The merchant traveled along the winding road. It was upon a horse and cart with which he rode. To town he was headed, to sell his odds and ends. A new concoction of teas he now possessed; a new variety of fusions, mixes, and blends. It was in the Town of Cottonwood, that the merchant sought to see. Confident he was, in his new collections of tea. “They shall come from near and far,” The merchant chuckled, his lips rolling over his cigar. “These blends are unlike all they would have come across!” He thanked his mentor quietly, for supplying him such a seasoned trail-boss. From their adventures came, the merchants newest creations. For they would create whole new sensations.
“You’ve got the wrong guy!” He shouted, dazed and confused. “It wasn’t me!” The roar of the crowd drowned out his pleas. He watched, wide-eyed from the window of him humble homestead. The townsfolk had to of been deceived by her. This had her written all over it. But he never imagined she’d take it this far. He’d underestimated her powers. The chants of the rage-filled crowd began to align. “Burn him out!” They chanted. “Burn it down!” The rise of torches from the sea of people caused fear to grip his body as the beacons of light were carried closer and closer to his home.
“Traat’aliit gar besbe’trayc”
The squad is your weapon. Everything together. Nothing alone. The squad is your weapon.
———————————————————————— ((The language is Mando’a, compromised of material owned by Lucasfilm Ltd. and created with the help of Karen Traviss and her Republic Command series))
Really short; I’m not a poem writer in the slightest lol, but I tried.
I was just a boy when it started. The rumors. Talk of large, winged beasts, appearing across the Midwest. It was the least of my worries at that age. Finding my next meal took precedence. That is, until [main character’s role model] took me in. He gave me a purpose; taught me right from wrong. Now I know how that sounds coming from an outlaw, but we have a code. It wasn’t until I was reaching adulthood, and leaving my adolescence, that the first true sightings began being publicized. They were showing up in newspapers everywhere. I was 20 years of age when I saw my first one. By that point, word had spread of the destruction they were bringing across the country, and that destruction had spread beyond the northern and southern borders. Killing them was a challenge that plagued the nation. Short of firing canons off into the sky, little could take down one of the winged beasts. There was no shortage of hate and rage towards the creatures. So you can imagine by surprise when in two years time, I found myself riding on the back of one of these creatures- dragons. ———————————————————————— Set in the mid 1800s, the story follows a gang of outlaws in the American Wild West where dragons have been reawakened to the world. Mining activity has created countless chasms in mountains and caves alike from which dragons have breached and returned to the surface. Destruction spreads through the Americas, and to other continents. Now, rumor has spread across the American frontier of a tamed dragon.
((How to Train Your Dragon meets Reign of Fire in the Wild West Era))
When it came your time to speak. You felt the words you’d studiously prepared in your mind fade away. As if your life wasn’t on the in that very moment, you felt… ease. Or some form of it. Perhaps it was just a lack of caring anymore. Everyone seemed to have made up their minds. Once people chose I side, they rarely ever changed it. You knew that. But… That small, stubborn part of you still wanted to give it a fighting chance. “I wish I could tell you what really happened. I still do not know,” Your voice is void of all emotion or hope. You didn’t have the energy to appear frightened. You’d spent so many sleepless nights worrying about this trial. It was out of your hands now. 99% of you believed that. The other 1% was ringing the words out of you, chomping at the bit for the final chance you had to plead your innocence.
“How do you know that?” Shit. You reluctantly turn to see her eyeing you. Confusion was written along her face, and you knew flickers of betrayal and most likely anger would soon follow. “Let me explain,” They were the first words that you were able to utter. As cliche as you knew they probably sounded to her. It didn’t take more than a few more seconds for her eyes to widen as she took a couple of steps back. “You’re-“ She seemed lost on words, and you clenched your jaw and looked away as you knew what was coming. “It’s you.” She states. “You’re the vigilante.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to outwardly deny the statement. It was true after all. You were the vigilante. The one that had appeared without fail in the papers almost daily for months now. “Do you deny it?” Looking at her proved harder than you would’ve ever thought. You couldn’t bring yourself to. “Look at me.” You clenched you jaw, fighting the urge - but more so - trying to swallow the shame building in the back of your mind. Shame that you actually believed you could keep it from her indefinitely. “Look at me damn it!” Her yell was enough to get you to finally turn in her direction and you reluctantly met her eyes. Betrayal. There it was, written on her face. You’d dreaded ever telling her, knowing she’d disapprove. But this was worse. Her finding out of her own accord. “Do. You. Deny. It.” She seethed, taking several steps closer, as if to try and conjure some kind of intimidation from you. It did little if not make you shake your head. “No… I don’t.”
She bundled the ends of her coat over her chest more tightly, turning to look around as the subtle wind blew at the loose strands of her hair. This was where they were supposed to meet. Near the arched structure in the park. It was early in the morning; the large walkway was illuminated by lanterns scattered around the landscaped clearing, the light reflecting off the night’s fresh layer of snow. The architecture was always fascinating to her. She was glad he picked this location. She’d taken a few walks in the park since being stationed in the city. It was a historically and culturally rich location; something she was excited for when first hearing of her transfer. Adjusting the knitted hat over her head, she continued to look around, looking for a spark of familiarity in the few people who were out at the hour.
“… You’re leaving.” She paused as she went to place another article of clothing into the worn out messenger bag. Her eyes search the distressed fabric before she looks over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway. “We talked about this,” She thought over the statement briefly before voicing it. “I’ll bring unwanted attention, you know that.” “You talked during that conversation. I listened. I never agreed to any of it.” She heard the click and spin of the spurs on his boots as he took a few steps into the room. “Doesn’t change anything,” She shakes her head as she continues to pack clothes into the bag. “We both know my name will always be on a poster. The price is too high to be forgotten. Your family doesn’t need that cloud overhead.” “What my family needs is you here.” His tone hardened. She didn’t need to look at him to know his fists were probably clenched in an anxious manner, and the set of his shoulders most likely mirrored that fact. “Your family needs a fresh start.” She bites back, coming to her feet before turning to face him. “The price on my head is probably as big as the one on yours. You don’t see me running.” “The agency thinks your dead.” She scoffs, brow knitting as she searched for reason in his expression. His emotional tie to her was controlling his thoughts on the matter. A response on his end didn’t come. Not immediately at least. They didn’t fight often, and when they did, they always came to a resolution quickly. On this particular topic however, she felt strongly in her heart neither of them would be happy in a compromise. “We’ve been facing this since we were kids.” His words came out in a weakened, hushed tone,” Together. That’s why we’ve made it as long as we have.” “We’ve made it as long as we have on sheer luck, and you know it.” She responds. “You have a chance.” She looks around the freshly built house. “You all do. Don’t let the past - our past - get in the way of your family’s future.” She knelt back down to where her bag was and hastily continued to pack clothes into it’s compartments. The reality they were now facing hurt. It tore a rift through her heart, fractured her soul in two. He was as much a part of who she was as she was of him, and the knowing that they had to continue on apart felt like she was leaving a piece of herself behind. She was reluctant to close the pack, as she knew the what the next step would be. Sliding the strap over her shoulder, she got to her feet and turned to face her other half; her partner in crime; her best friend. The crack in his angered expression was becoming apparent as she stopped in front of him, and the strain in his brow began to wash away the deception of his bearing. “You’re my family too.” He murmured, eyes meeting hers for as long as they could before he looked down towards the floor. She tried to swallow the feeling of tightness enveloping her throat as she pulled him to her and hugged him tightly. She breathed in deeply before sighing quickly as she nuzzled her head against his, relishing in the feeling of having him in her arms as much as the feeling of being in his. “I know.”
Chaotic. It was the first word that came to my mind. The smoke that scorched the air burned my throat and eyes, obscuring much of what I knew and heard roaring around me; the rage of a gunfight; enhanced by the detonation of flammable material. Stray bullets the scarred the buildings and obstructions littered about the cleaning of the emptying street.
Flecks of ash fell like a fresh snowfall, sticking to my face and skin as I struggled to my knees and then to my feet.
The small snaps and pops of bullets flying was starting to become more audible as the ringing in my ears began to fall; the race of adrenaline pushed past my body’s every desire to lie back down.
There was still a fight to be won.
From the outside, the estate was viewed by all as glamorous, elegant, and luxurious. The vast halls of the manor held countless parties and social functions. Word spread throughout high society of the lavish Manor, and the graciousness of its master. From the outside, the estate was viewed favorably by all. But what happened within its ornate halls - behind closed doors - was a reality known to very few. She knew that reality; knew of its ugliness; the darkness that lied underneath the gold garnishing of the furnishings that littering every room and hall of the manor.
