Author Archives: DragonSpark

About DragonSpark

Just another dragon flying in the skies.

(un)welcomed guests?

Angel’s dagger was lodged into a strange contraption of Elvin origin that had just tried to maul a pale and panicked Marisa. She pulled her blade out of its target and took a second to examine her surroundings. The small tunnel in the cave had emerged into a small home. The furniture, like the strange trap they had just disabled, was built with Elf technology; the intricate mechanical movement of some pieces of furniture gave that much away. Behind her, the others were emerging from the tunnel, first Nikke, then Arthur, and last of all Harry, dragging a bag full of armour and supplies he had yet to distribute. Marisa was crawling out from under the table where she had instinctively hid when the trap was triggered. Angel sighed, sliding her blade back into its scabbard. The rumbling sound of battle rattled the walls. A massive army complete with a supporting fleet of airship and artillery was attempting the incredible feat of invading the city by the mountains. Meanwhile the city was protecting its walls with an equally impressive military apparatus.


Angel quickly stepped to a window overlooking most of the battle. Flaming airships belonging to both sides were slowly sinking to the ground, fire spreading amidst their hull. Flashes of light indicated wizards and riflemen had begun exchanging fire with one another. Angel walked from one window to the next, making sure no imminent threat was about to discover the location of her party. The house was within range of a group of riflemen, but they seemed notably indifferent of the little home, although it would offer them better cover than the rock they were currently hiding behind.


They gathered in the house’s biggest room. Harry spilled his supplies in the middle of the room, hoping to finally equip his young comrades. Arthur picked up a light chain mail and broiled leather armour and a medium sized, thin blade, curved at the end.


“What’s up with this blade? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s called a Katana. It’s commonly found in the castles of the eastern princes.”


Arthur swung the elegant blade in through the air, testing it, then grabbing the circular grip with both hands and staring down an imaginary enemy. Meanwhile Marisa walked up to the pile of weapons and picked a set of knives which she stored in scabbards spread throughout her body. Essentially where she could squeeze a belt, she put a knife in it. It left her with little armour, but, when questioned, she simply answered “Why protect myself against blows that won’t reach me anyway?” She completed her equipment by grabbing a leather quiver, wooden bow, and several arrows. Marisa tried as best she could to reconstruct her regal equipment. The armour she found was too big, so Angel and Harry combined their knowledge and magical abilities to re-forge the metal then and there to fit the small princess. “It’s provisional” assured Angel as she fit the patchy breastplate on the little girl. Sighing, Marisa picked out a rapier from the pile, missing the beauty and elegance of her own weapon. Angel stepped away from her lookout role by the window and picked the largest piece of armour and again set to re-forging it. Having re-forged many men’s armour to fit her own size, she was used to the process, and did a much better job than she had done for Marisa. She donned the armour and grabbed a rather large straight bladed double edged sword from the pile, seemingly at random. Her stare never left the windows.  As Harry was donning his usual, enormous piece of armour, a loud thud rang on the roof of the house. Loud mechanical noises were heard, and Angela shielded her eyes as the group of riflemen was apparently vaporised by some kind of magic.


After a few seconds of tense silence, the door of the hut opened calmly, letting a slender elf, equipped in battle armour and all, stroll into the house, closing the door behind him. He turned to the makeshift party and outstretched his arms.


“Welcome, honourable guests!”


Hello internet. Forgive my rusty bones. Its been a while since I have written anything. Hope this addition to the co op story is a satisfactory one. Your turn Banzai.



Steel and Starlight

I walk up to the gate. The darkness peals away as I step into the projector’s glow. The guards notice me. This area is already meant to be accessible only to personnel. I breathe in slowly. They point their rifles at me. The mechanical elements slide and click as their weapons are armed. The First yells a warning, the Second takes aim. I keep walking.


The Second fires a bullet. It easily penetrates through my jacket and tee-shirt, but bounces off my metal skin, now visible through the bullet hole. I keep walking towards them, unharmed. The guns are lowered. The two men share a moment of surprise, confusion, quickly followed by panic. Another warning, though now, the guard’s voice is shaking, unsure. I take another step. Their eyes widen as they realize who I am, what I am. I stop, planting my feet firmly into the ground. They point their deadly tools towards me once again, barrel points trembling.


I take my hands out of my pockets and quickly cross them in front of me in an X shape. Moments before the rifles spit their deadly fire, I turn all of my skin to metal. The two guards are now but scared children. They empty their clips on me, tearing through my sleeves, blowing my hood off of my head, and dotting my jean’s fabric with holes. Muzzle flare illuminates the night, synchronized with the crack of the guns. Compressed bullets sing and chime in symphony as they fall around me.


Her face surfaces into my consciousness. Her laugh echoes in my ear. A spark of anger resonates through my body. I push it aside. Emotions aren’t useful right now. I grow small, elongated fragments out of my arms. Projectiles. Sharp. Deadly. In front of me the guards are fumbling with their guns, trying to reload them. They are clearly inexperienced. New. Young. Guilt whispers to me. I push it aside, just as I did the anger.


Time slows to a stop. I swing my arms outwards. At the peak of the swing, I detach the shards from my metal skin. They hurl through the air like deadly feathers, reflecting the projector’s lights like a Disco ball at an old fashion club. Instantly they connect with the bodies of the two men. They fall backwards as the momentum of the shards converges into their bodies. Their weapons clatter across the concrete. I walk up to and then past them. They are littered with shards. A dark pool of blood is quickly spreading around the bodies. Their expression is that of a frozen scream, terrified and lonely.

I push pity aside with the rest. Emotions aren’t useful right now.


It’s been a whole year since I last submitted to the Speakeasy! I’ve seen new faces and familiar ones while glancing around the site a few days ago, and it’s all very exciting. I’m also trying a lot of new things with this particular piece. I’m curious to see how it came through. Comments, criticism and feedback is much appreciated. I’ve experienced with these characters before. If you so wish, feel free to read more here and here.


Posted by on 1 September 2015 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy


Tags: , ,

… And into the fire!

Arthur awoke as the sun streamed into the cave. He squinted his eyes at the bright light, trying to shield himself from it while his hands freed themselves from the tangle of his sleeping bag. His muscles awoke one by one, most of them reporting dull sensations of pain and stiffness from sleeping on the rough, uneven stone of the cavern floor. It had been a long time since Arthur had been forced to sleep on anything harder than hay, though he felt the experience was a formative one. Complaining was useless at this point. He eventually got up, grabbed his shirt from a nearby stalagmite, and walked out of the cave.

It was a beautiful day. Mountain birds chirped and flew from bush to bush, hunting the few insects that were at this altitude, always seeking a berry or two to round out their food supply. The morning air was dry, but not cold. Around Arthur, the bare rock followed the noticeable slope of the mountain. He stepped across the relatively flat, narrow path they had used the preceding night, looking down the ditch. Bellow, in the distance, the city could still be seen, it’s greatest buildings now the size of specs in Arthurs vision. On the horizon, the plains stretched as far as the eye could see. “These plains will soon be ripe with fire and death”, he thought. After a few minutes of uninterrupted silence during which he let his mind flow freely, Arthur was brutally brought back to reality by the panicked screeching of a little girl.


Marissa had awoken painfully from a frightful night of troubled sleep. Every time the pain reached the threshold she was willing to tolerate, she shifted her weight and her body, then only staying idle for a few minutes, until yet another source of discomfort forced her to repeat the process. Eventually she ran out of new positions, and her body ran out of energy. She fell in a sleep filled with troubled dreams of burning buildings and oncoming daemons. The sight of light streaming in from the cave entrance was a welcome one, signalling the end of this ordeal. She pulled herself from her sleeping bag and headed out the cavern. Immediately she felt something was off… Something important was missing. Then it hit her: The wagon! It was gone! Someone had been here and taken it! She screamed out these realisations as they streamed in to her mind, slowly wrapping her head around the possible implications-

“In the name of what god are you screaming like this?” It was a feminine voice, intense and angry. Marissa turned around to find Angel, still in her night gown, glaring at her with a fire in her eyes. “Can’t you see some of us where sleeping?” As she spoke, a still shirtless Harry and a half awake Nikke stumbled out of the cave.

“Somebody stole our wagon! They must have come when we were sleeping! We have t-”

“Nobody stole the wagon” Marisa turned around to the sound of Arthur’s voice. He was standing on the edge of the path, looking back at the cave, calmly cracking his neck. “In the Hollow, favours are the main currency. The merchant we got this from owed me a favour, a service, not a permanent mode of transportation. That would be insane. One of his lackeys was probably sent overnight to recover what was rightfully his.”

Marissa turned around once again to evaluate the reactions of the rest of the party. Angel was nodding in approval, clearly well aware of the practices of the shadier side of town. Nikke was supressing a laugh at the thought that her regal friend was unaware of what surely seemed to her like an evidence to her. As for Harry, he seemed slightly worried.

“I had cargo in the back. Did they take it back with them?” As an answer, Arthur raised his chin in the direction of a bush near the entrance of the cave. Sure enough, all of Harry’s cargo was hidden within the vegetation. The band soon settled for a rudimentary breakfast, mostly composed of leftover supplies and a bird Angel shot down easily with her arrow. Harry took advantage of the situation to empty the components of one of his bags in between the bunch. Armour and weapons spilled out as the smithy spoke up.

“If you lot or going to actually pull your own weight during this little escapade, you need to be equipped. Thankfully, I brought some spare gear with me. Here you have padding, mail, rudimentary-”

Angel had risen her hands, signalling everybody to stop talking. Silence instantly fell on the small party. Her face seemed intensely concentrated and worried. Instants later, Nikke breathed in sharply, her face growing pale. Almost at the same time, Arthur and Harry’s facial muscles clenched, their fists tightened. “I heard it too” Arthur whispered.

And then Marissa heard it: A war horn. The band hurried back to the edge of the path to survey the city and the surrounding peaks. The entire mountain across from theirs was covered in red figures, all in formation, banners flying above them, dust rising in the air from the marching. Amidst the army were catapults and ladders. It was the invading army, approaching from the mountains.

“What kind of sorcery-” Angel was interrupted by another war horn, this time much closer. The members of the group sent panicked looks to one another, and, without a word, hurryingly gathered the equipment and rushed inside the darkness of the cave. Soon after, the light from the outside was dimmed by rows of passing soldiers. The air was filled with the constant drumming of thousands of armoured feet stumping the ground in rhythm. The occasional roar of the war horn resonated into the cavern. Marissa was struck. How could they already be here? How come even they didn’t see them approach? More importantly still, how was she to escape this new threat to her freedom, to her life?



And once again, Hannibal crosses the Alps 😉 And yes, my job in this collaboration is to make everything more complicated for our heroes… Though I must say the preceding title kinda forced my hand. This one is just over 1000 words, and definitely one of the longest pieces I’ve written for this site. Hope you don’t find it too boring.


Posted by on 28 August 2015 in Dragonspark, Epic Co-written Story



DS Hooded conspirators

The streets of the Hollow had changed drastically since Marissa’s last escapade. At first she wandered a bit randomly, somewhat lost. Guards were everywhere, preparing the city for the invasion. Marissa hid under her wide hood to avoid being recognized. Eventually she spotted the familiar landmarks of the neighbourhood, unchanged despite the years. She came upon the narrow back alley with the vines she and her friend Nikke used to climb, the gateway to their childhood hideout.

Muscle memory kicked in. In a few surprisingly swift movements, and despite her bags, she grabbed onto the edge of the roof. She pulled herself onto it and made her way through the rampant vegetation. Marissa was caught off guard by a voice.

“If that is what you want, then I suppose I am the best person to ask.”

The princess froze. The voice was that of a woman, and yet it had an edge, an intense confidence to it that made it intimidating. Marissa breathed deeply and took careful, quiet steps towards the voice. She came upon a beautiful woman in a dark green dress shelving a dagger in a hidden scabbard strapped to her thigh. Kneeling in front of the woman was a small figure. Marissa immediately recognized her childhood friend. A smiled forced itself onto her lips, not that she had any will to fight it. She thoughtlessly ran from her hiding spot, dropping her bags and cape on the way, screaming Nikke’s name gleefully.

The adrenaline of having a veteran quester accept to become her mentor was still flooding her system when Nikke heard a familiar, overexcited voice scream her name. The next thing she knew, the junior princess of the kingdom had tackled her to the ground. Nikke couldn’t help but laugh at that thought. She had finally been reunited with her regal friend.

Angel let the two girls laugh and talk and giggle for a while. At least now she knew for sure the girl she had talked to before the princess arrived was genuine. The princess and an orphan, childhood friends. Who could have imagined that one? After pondering that thought for a little while she decided it was time to once again focus. Angel cleared her throat. The girls immediately fell silent.

“Ok, back to business ladies. First things first, princess, where do you need to go?”

Marissa was caught off guard by the question. She hadn’t exactly planned it this far. “Well, anywhere safe really. I just need to get out of the city before the walls are closed and the army takes over in preparation for the invasion.”

“Wait, what kind of escort mission is this? Hasn’t the crown assigned you a drop-off point? Somewhere where the army can take you under protection and take you overseas?”

“To be perfectly honest, this isn’t official business. The crown doesn’t know I intend to leave the city. Nobody know I’ve even left the castle.”

Angel frowned and crossed her arms. She had walked into an illegal quest, commissioned by the princess no less. This job didn’t start once outside the walls, it had already started. In fact, those walls were the first obstacle. She couldn’t back down either. Admitting to taking an illegal quest had dark implications, for her own career and for the already very fragile place of women within the questing world. Not that she ever backs down from a challenge.

For a second, Nikke was scared that Angel would back away. However, after a few seconds, a new fire sparkled in her eyes, a fire of determination. “OK. I’ll take the job regardless. But we need to find a safe way out of the city. The main doors are all monitored by the army, even more than usual. We’d need someone with connections, someone who we could talk to without attracting attention. Someone-”

Nikke smiled and chimed in. “Someone like a tavern boy at one of the Lion Road’s most famous tavern?”

“Well, yes… That would be ideal. But do you actually know such a person?”

Arthur was laying on his bed, flipping a coin, dark thoughts in his head. All of the city’s underworld said it didn’t stand a chance against the oncoming imperial army, and Arthur had no way out. If the city was his grave, it was also safer than out in the fields of the nation. By now, the boats would already be crowded with refugees, so even that escape route was cut off. He was stuck, back against the wall, and that wasn’t a good thing. Arthur wasn’t used to being stuck.

He wasn’t used to people knocking at his door either. Few were those who knew where he lived, though most of the inhabitants of the Hollow knew him by name, and one of the sharpest lads in the city. Yet that Nikke girl had stumbled in that very morning. Arthur heard the knock of fist on wood from his bedroom. He glanced outside. The sun had just set. He took a dagger and hid it behind his wrist. At this time, anything could come knocking. However, the last thing he expected was three hooded women, one of them being the junior princess, another the orphan who he had welcomed that morning, and the third a woman too beautiful even for the most expensive brothels of the noble district. Arthur frowned, not exactly eager to trust these three women. “What is this about?”

“Hey Arthy! Remember me right? We met earlier today. I need to be snuck out of town along with these two fine ladies. We thought if anyone knew a way out of town, it was probably you”.

Arthur sighed, sheathed his dagger in a scabbard on the back of his belt, and rested against the doorframe, crossing his arms. He smiled. Arthur had never been called “Arthy” before. This seemed almost surreal to him. “The city is going to be burned to a crisp before the end of next month. I could sneak you out of town, but what do I get in return?”

Angel stepped forward. “Well, as you said, the entire town will probably be burnt, so money isn’t exactly a useful commodity in the long run, and neither is staying behind. However, we could take you with us. I’m a high level quester. With me, you’d be safe on the outside.”

Arthur smiled again. This may just be the escape he was looking for.


Huzzah! All the pieces are together, the action can begin…. Finally…. Ish. Dunno, depends if BW wants to set things up more or escape the city next time around, or something else entirely. Find out soon! And yea, these pieces do seem to be the longest ones we write. This one is just over a thousand words. It seems that is the minimum word count to make a coherent addition to an already rather complex plot (4 main characters, which is huge, a brand new world and society, an oncoming threat, etc…)

Previous chapter here.

First chapter here.


Posted by on 24 August 2015 in Dragonspark, Epic Co-written Story



DS A Sinking Feeling

Morning streamed through the silk curtains of the royal castle. Marissa awoke from her dreams, where she had escaped from her regal life, and become a famed adventurer. In her dreams, she had a sword worthy of the kingdom’s greatest Dammes, worthy even of the army’s Valkyrie units. Worthy of her sister. However, the blade that lay against the wall opposite to her bed was a fine rapier the Smithy had made just for her. It was an elegant weapon, yes, but one not fit for a brave warrior. On a stand next to her blade was her armour. Behind the stand was her bow. It was also specially made for her, with a strong yet sturdy ebon wood and lined with Ivory. It was akin to a piece of art, but in her hands, it could rain death on any foe, that she was sure of.

Marrisa looked longingly at her equipment, already beginning to imagine alternate lives in which these tools led her to fame and glory, despite their frail nature. She was brought back to reality by the hollow thus of the drawbridge falling on the opposite side of the moat, directly below her room.

The castle was exceptionally busy this morning. Steps echoed up and down the hall beyond her wooden door and the distant clatter of horse and armour could be heard out of the window. Puzzled by this activity, Marrisa was heading to the window when her attendant, a kind old lady that had cared for her and her sister since her mother had died, many years before, burst through the door.

“Your highness! Get dressed quickly. An urgent matter has come up.”

Marrisa felt shivers crawl down her spine. Her sister had several counsellors for each task, from military to agriculture. What could be so urgent that even she was to bear witness to? Nervously, she put a gown on, and followed the halls and corridors she knew by heart until she came to the great wooden doors that led to the throne room. Two guards pushed them apart. Her father, the king, looked up at her with a sad look, even sadder than usual. Whispers echoed as she walked down the aisle at the centre of the room, leading to a large table placed at the bottom of the steps that led to the throne.

Placed on the table was a large map of the kingdom. Scattered all throughout the map where small wooden foot soldiers painted in blue, which she supposed represented the Kingdom’s humble yet efficient military forces, scattered throughout the few large cities within their borders. At the far side of the map, behind a line which represented the border with the neighbouring kingdom of Torei was a huge number of similar pieces, painted red, all looking ominously towards the other side of the line.

Marisa’s sister stood over the table, her usual dress replaced by her armour. Her jaws were clenched, as were her fist. An aura of rage was emanating from her. In between her fists was a parchment that bore the seal of Torei, which she was clearly in the process of reading. After a short while, she looked up at a man which Merissa recognised to be the Grand Master of Arms, a kind veteran knight, now in charge of all the armies of the kingdom.

“How many?”

“Too many” the knight answered, clearly worried.

The crown princess immediately followed up: “How much time do we have?”

“If they head straight for the capital, they’ll be at the walls within a week. If they assault every town they encounter, or even only the larger cities, that gives us anywhere from two weeks to a month, but not a day more.”

Even Marissa knew it. That simply wasn’t enough time to prepare for a large assault, or even to evacuate the populace. Her sister swiped her arm in range, toppling the red solders, and crumbled up the parchment, which Merissa guessed was a declaration of war. The crown princess started to walk out the room angrily. Several people fell in behind her, including the Grand Master of Arms. Before leaving the room she turned around.

“Summon the master of the guard and all members of the military council not yet present. From this moment on, we are at war!”

Marissa’s heart sunk. Given her sister’s attitude, this war wasn’t one the Kingdom was likely to win. Now she knew more than ever: She HAD to find Nikke Raven.


It’s been a long, LONG time since I sat down to add to this story. This morning I sat down, armed with coffee and music, and promised myself not to sit up until I had finished this piece… I broke that promise several times, but I got it done before sunset nonetheless. As I was rereading what came before and jotting down Ideas, I couldn’t help but feel the story was progressing slowly, the consequence of having two authors, I suppose. So I set out to write something that will push this world out of the relative status quo, and into the adventures ahead. I leave it now to Bookworm to craft the first steps of this adventure, whatever that might mean.

Previous chapter here. First chapter here.


Posted by on 8 August 2015 in Dragonspark, Epic Co-written Story



DS Encounter

Allow me to summarize our story so far: A young man, Arthur, once ambitious and yearning for adventure, has now become tame and satisfied with his humble life as employee in the local inn. However, a spark of his past self still glimmers in the depths of his soul, waiting to be unleashed.  Meanwhile, across town, a young woman, Nikke, is breaking the taboo of gender roles by taking up bounties to track down criminals, slay mighty monsters, and explore uncharted land, adventures usually reserved to men. As a matter of fact, she accomplishes this task in a disguise, so as not to reveal her true nature. Rumours of another woman-knight are being whispered in the deepest areas of the guild hall. This feminine blade wielder is told to possess formidable strength, dexterity beyond imagination, and superhuman speed.

For Arthur, this was just the start of another day in Lionsden, a humble quarter of the capital. He worked as tavern boy in the King’s rest, a cosy tavern huddled between two small shopes, on the side of one of the quarter’s bigger streets. He did all kinds of things in the tavern. He served meals, made the beds, cleaned the rooms, ran errands, tended to horses, and even cooked a little. It wasn’t an easy life, but a satisfactory one, with enough purpose to rise in the morning, and enough coin to afford a bed at night. Over the years he had built a solid endurance and was quite fit, though not enough to join the royal guards he once admired. His clothes were rough, his shaving blade blunt, his hygiene barely satisfactory, but he was happy… Or at least, most times he was.

Indeed, his dreams of adventure and fame hadn’t quite all gone away, and a spark still shone in his eyes every time the young boy saw military cavalry in the streets, or when his errands took him into the forger’s district, where steel blades of all kinds were on display.

Meanwhile, down in Raven’s Hollow the vaguely feminine figure that was showing interest in the quest board was starting to attract unwanted attention. Nikke was usually careful when scouting the quest board for jobs, and looking out for the near-mythical woman-knight. She was always swift, discreet, and cloaked. However, this time, she had stayed for too long. One of the guards of the quest hall approached her from behind.

“Hey lad!” he shouted, “You know it’s impolite to wear a hood inside public buildings right?” Taken by surprise, Nikke realised her mistake. She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice as deep as possible. “I’ve seen more bizarre in these halls. Why call out such a minute piece of cloth when other hunters wear full suits of armors. However, if so is your wish, I will be on my way. My business here is done.” She turned swiftly, making the end of her cloak revolve gracefully.

“Just hold on a minute!” the guard said, grinning, almost perversely. His hand grabbed the back of the hood. He yanked it back and Nikke’s face was exposed to full daylight. Her eyes widened in surprise and shock. She thrust her elbow in the guard’s face. The guard barely had time to realize what happened when Nikke followed up by jabbing her heel into the man’s abdomen, using him as leverage to dart forwards, as the gasps of indignation started to echo on the high walls.

She swiftly jumped off a bench and over the heads of the two guards guarding the entrance, and ran into the streets, hoping to lose any pursuers in the crowd. However, her hopes were quickly dissipated when she heard the steady beat of a horse’s gallop closing in behind her.

“Get her!” The guard on the back of the horse had his sword drawn, murder in his eyes. “All that just because I happen to have breasts!?” Nikke spat. Luckily the crowded and narrow streets of the neighbourhood made it difficult for the guards to move forwards. The mass of people were spreading to let the horses pass barely faster than Nikke was pushing and shoving her way through the crowd.

Her luck ran out as she turned the corner. Another patrol of guards on horseback were making their way towards her. She was effectively surrounded. As she was evaluating her options, a young man with a heavy looking bag opened the door of the small building immediately to her right. Nikke didn’t think. She jumped through the door and into the building, hoping the patrol in front of her hadn’t noticed her, and knowing the patrol behind her had yet to turn that corner.

Arthur didn’t really have the time to realize what had happened. His eyes hadn’t yet recovered from the sudden stream of sunlight flowing through the door that a mass had pushed him onto the floor. Arthur, thinking the intruder was a mugger, reached for his knife. He shifted his weight forward, from his back to his feet, planting his free palm on the ground, and used the three limbs to stand up quickly, his knife hand ready to defend any oncoming assault.

However, instead of attacking him, the person that had shoved him back into the inn turned around, bolted the door shut, and collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Arthur looked down on the strange, heaving figure at his doorstep, confused. He folded his knife, sheaved it and kneeled to the stranger, putting a hand on her right shoulder.

Nikke looked up at the young man kneeling in front of her, relief flooding her mind. Little did she know that this encounter was going to change her life forever.


Hello all! This is a continuation of our coop story, where BW and I take turns writing “episodes” or chapters. The ball has been in my park for a long time now, but my chapter is finally here. Where will BW take this? *dramatic voice* Find out next time!

For those whose memory needs refreshing, here is the preceding part, and if you are a new reader and missed all of it here’s the first part. On a closing note, this is my first story in months, so excuse the slightly rusty writing…. I have a few other rough drafts in the pipeline that I’ll try to polish before summer break. In the meantime, take care!

P.S: As an added bonus, I’ll include some of the sketches I did before writing this. I’ve been trying to get used to digital art. These are my first steps, but I’ll share them regardless:Coop episode 3- roughs


Tags: ,

Sticks and Stones: Words DO hurt!

The fight I fight is a hard one to fight
In this unending battle of words and phrases
Rhetoric and politics
Sociological facts and behavioural economics,
One is often bombarded, assaulted,
By claims impossible to deny
Tension is constant, pride omnipresent
Once one is besieged, one loses all moral
The opponent gets cocky, and fires a barrage
Arguments big and small, almost makes you cry

But then, there it is, the loose thread!
A quick pull, and the façade falls to pieces
The assault has ceased, the arguments gone
The mighty foe now just looks dumb

Now I am the master of his demise!

… I won Best Speaker at a debate exhibition today.


I have cleared most urgent things on my to-do list to bring you this. It’s been a while and I just had a great day because of this victory in debate, so I felt like writing about it. This is my first attempt at pseudo-poetry, so don’t be too harsh. 🙂 See you all whenever. Take care.



Posted by on 30 March 2015 in Dragonspark



DS- Sand, Dust, and Blood

The night was plagued by the orange glow of the sodium vapour lamps. The spots of light illuminated a street contained between two compounds. The rammed earth walls seemed brittle. Garbage was piled up in a corner. The cloudy sky concealed the stars. A thin layer of sand and dust coated the dirt street, making his footsteps silent. The young man wandering through the dark alleyway seemed out of place. He was a young European man wearing an expensive Italian suit, walking quietly in one of Morocco’s poorest neighbourhoods.

If it was brighter, or if he stepped directly under a lamppost, which he purposefully avoided, one could have seen the anger concealed beneath his tense features, and the hard, piercing look of his eye. This was the face of a man whom had been betrayed for one too many time. He was sick and tired of the false promises, the worthless vows of protection, and the hypocritical speeches that, in the end, turned out to be driven by self-interest. Since childhood, he’d been chased by the shadows. Everywhere he had sought protection, those he met either used him as a tool for their own agenda, or tried to turn him in to those who wanted him in their hands.

He was sick of being seen for what he was and not who he was.

He was interrupted in his inner ranting by whispers from behind. He turned around quickly, only to find five dark figures lined up in the dark street. Some were carrying led pipes and one had a baseball bat. “Petty thugs”, he spat. The five men were nervously chatting amongst themselves. He recognised the word “money” and “stranger” amongst the muffled voices. They were going to mug him.

The young man sighed.  The thugs were surrounding him, and proceeded to take off his jacket. He wasn’t planning on handing it over, though.

He threw the suit jacket towards the wall on one side of the street. He immediately stretched his palm out towards the jacket. A metallic sound was heard, and the jacket was instantly pegged to the wall by a dark, crystal-like shape.

Unaware of what had just happened, one of the man holding a led pipe charged him, yelling. The young man spun around and thrust his hand into his assailant’s stomach. Instead of a muffled thud, the distinct sound of metal cutting through flesh arose from the man’s stomach. The man’s arms went limp, and the led pipe fell with a thud. The young man pulled his arm out. Where his hand was, there was now an oblong, xiphoid shape, a prolongation of his arm, orange light running down it with a deadly metallic wetness.

The man fell to the floor, dead, a dark pool of liquid spreading around the corpse. The four remaining thugs were momentarily perplexed, and the man used that to his advantage. The pent-up rage within him needed a blood-bath. The expensive leather in his shoes cracked as huge metallic talons pierced them, immediately digging into the ground, giving the man leverage. He burst onto one of the remaining assailants, burrowing his sword arm into his chest, pegging him against the wall opposite to his jacket. The hunter had become the prey.

He jumped from the wall and flew across the street, turning his other arm into a deadly tool identical to the first, and spread his lethal limbs like wings as his trajectory brought him between two of the remaining thugs.

Having just witnessed his four friends get cut down, the last of the muggers turned tail, dropped his led pipe, and ran away from the European man, his legs powered by terror and adrenaline. After a few moments, his curiosity got the better of him. He looked over his shoulder. The last thing he saw was the blurry outline of a metallic shard whistling straight towards him at subsonic speed, before it brutally vaporised his skull.


Hey guys! I don’t post often any more, and this one is too long for the Speakeasy (Is it even called that now?) so I hope the few of you that catch it enjoy it. This is another vignette into a plot line I’m working on for my own enjoyment, but its place is up here with the great majority of my other pieces. There is already a vignette from this storyline on this blog right up here, which is chronologically later than this one in the overall storyline. Comments appreciated!


Posted by on 3 November 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: ,

DS- Chaos

The cockpit is rattled by a nearby explosion. A fraction of the chaos outside appears on the monitor. Muffled sounds of whistling shells and the crack of massive guns resonate throughout. Sweat droplets sparkle on the visor of my helmet, my breathing is heavy, and I fight to control the trembling of my hands on the joysticks.

They came out of nowhere. Mere hours after we lost contact with the moon, the massive fleet was breaking through the atmosphere. Of course, we were armed. The fleet situated the moon was a mere fraction of what was stationed on Earth. Our assailants’ arsenal rivalled if not surpassed the size of ours, but it’s our home we were defending, and we quickly grew desperate. The nukes soon started to rain upon the enemy. During the scramble, the order was “no mercy, whatever happens”.

All of the American fleet was upon them, and Europe’s vanguard was hours from the front line. The orbital fleet will start firing any second now. Meanwhile, we’re out here on the ground, to make sure these things don’t go anywhere. It’s not an easy fight, but one I’m determined to see through.

I launch my mech into the air, through the smoke and the chaos, take aim at the blurry shapes in the distance, and squeeze the trigger. My target explodes in a mix of metal, circuits and flesh. Whatever it is we’re fighting, they’re also using mechanized armours. Some of them seem to have four arms….

I land hard on the destroyed torso of another friendly mech, noticing the black edged hole through the cockpit. “Rest in peace, mate” My teeth are tense as I spit the words out.

A quick, repetitive beep resonates out of the console. The kinetic sensors. Something hits the left side of my mech, tipping me to the side. I turn my armour back to face my aggressor. A three eyed armour is walking towards me, a strange contraption in hand. He points it towards me, and the barrel starts to glow. A gun.

I press a button. The handle of my attack dagger slides from its sheath. I yank it out with my mech’s right arm, activate the rear thrusters, ejecting my valiant suit towards the enemy, and thrust my blade into the thing’s head. A flash of light erupts from the strange weapon’s barrel.

The next sight I see is the thing’s lights flicker and fail through the gaping hole in my cockpit plating, half of my vision obstructed, probably by my own blood. The right joystick my hand was holding is gone, replaced by a scorching combination of metal, fibre and flesh. The pain hasn’t hit me yet. I doubt it ever will. My body feels more and more numb as a dark liquid gathers on my pedals. What’s left of my vison blurs and goes dark.


Sticking to my action/sci-fi/dystopian roots for this first foray into Speakeasy 2.0. Hope you guys liked it. Comments much appreciated!


Posted by on 12 October 2014 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy


Tags: , , ,

DS- Announcement, thank you, and sorry

This post, dear reader, is going to be an announcement, a thank you, and an apology at the same time.
The announcement is that, as of yesterday, I’ve basically become the blog manager for my school’s student newspaper. In that club, the whopping 8 of us were content creators at heart, so we weren’t satisfied with the mere 4 full-fledged issues/year. The little background I’ve built here for the past five months allowed me to put a solution on the table: Make a blog, and we did.
This brings me to my second point. I have thanked you all many times in the past, and will likely continue to do so in the future, but this time is a little bit special. Today, I thank you not only for making me a better writer, but also for giving me the know-how to function WordPress, and on the Blogosphere as a whole. These skills may be more useful to me than I know.
Now, you might be wondering what I want the apology to be about. Well, the thing is, with Homework becoming increasingly hard, another blog to manage, and finals creeping in the horizon, I find myself with less time to write. Now, rest assured, I will do my best to share all my short pieces with you all as often as possible, and to read yours as well, but it won’t match the intensity of my involvement during summer break for example.
So, thank you, sorry, and see you ‘round! 😉


Posted by on 3 October 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: , ,