THANK YOU NIKKO YOU FANTASTIC BASTARDNIKKOYOU FUCKING ROCK
Halls, Walls, and the Fall.When we're youngWe all craft bricksTo build a great city,And raise our walls.We spend time carefullyChoosing a brickWhat color willBe decorating the halls?I was no differentChoosing my bricksUntil I was specialI had more colors than mostYet I took too longSelecting too bright,too flamboyant, and nowI've nowhere to host.And so I looked aroundSeeing others with theirBland, but complete citiesHow I envy their coin.What have I to return toJust a ground of broken hopesMany unique, strewn colors, but whatUse are they, if they are not joined?
The Siege of Dunmark Castle (PROLOGUE) Reid grimaced. Under his loose helm, sweat poured on to his brow and trickled down his fuzzy, barely-bearded jaw. Making one last cursory check of his weapons, he breathed out slowly. In order to reach Dunmark Keep, the vanguard of King Tomard's army would need to clear a way through Dunmark Village, a quaint, easily defended village, conveniently the only passage to the Keep. Reid was one of the freshest recruits in said vanguard, with only hand-me-down armor and rudimentary battle skills. His only advantage was his excellent knowledge of tactics on large-scale battles, though in physical combat he was lacking. "Men, Lord Commander Daniel wants this village cleared of the populace and soldiers, but we are not to burn or loot anything. Let them taste your swords, but leave the buildings intact," the captain of the van bellowed. A warhorn from the village sounded, and suddenly it was beginning. All around Reid, soldiers rushed to t
Over the edgeNobody knows what's over the edgeBut everyone knows how those poor souls go.Some fall.Some jump.Some are too curious.Some are cautiously curious, yet some evil soul pushes them over.Some never go near it.The lucky ones.Some are tripped.Some go over slowly, willing or not.Some crawl down the side, trying to see what's thereBut don't prevail.Some people just take a quick look, and then run back quickly.And then there are thosewho get dragged with otherswho never were meant to gobut in their last momentssome frantic, tottering soulgrabbed their sleeve, before they could moveAnd they went over too.Not even those who come back can tell you.They simply cannot go back to that time.They stop.They freeze.Until a quiet, calming word brings them back.So tell me.What happens when you sail straight over?