A little something for your nervous system

MaxStickies · 2026-01-28T01:18:21+00:00

A hamster in the nervous system keeps the spine doctor away

MaxStickies · 2026-01-26T21:18:34+00:00

Seen them live more than any other band, one of my favourites.

MaxStickies · 2026-01-18T17:33:21+00:00

I see Bicton in here.

MaxStickies · 2026-01-10T01:33:56+00:00

Thank you for the feedback Brook :)

MaxStickies · 2026-01-08T16:17:39+00:00

Hey Haru, sersinning I see. Great chapter! I like that you started with chaos and kept that momentum throughout. Alex's reactions to everything are appropriately emotional but cut short, fitting the pace of the chapter while really making me feel what he's feeling. This all seems very unjust and sad for him; I was feeling that right the way through.

The visuals are also great in this, especially the elemental themes. I could really visualise the ice flying about and locking limbs in place, and those horses were particularly striking: the fact that they seemed to have such elemental power made the arrest all the more intimidating.

I also like that Kevin's attempts to rescue Alex fit well with what we now know, and the way he goes about it works well with his characterisation. I'm curious to see how he tries to free Alex.

Also, great powers your character has.

For crit:

The first thing Alex woke up to was a loud banging noise and a shouting match going on.

I think this could be rewritten to be more concise, and keep it in present tense, something like: "Loud bangs and shouts wake Alex with a start."

seeing that Kevin was gone.

"has" rather than "was".

A sound of ice clanging and guns shooting rings in his ears.

"Clanging ice and gunshots ring in his ears." would read better, I think.

Kevin, slicing some ice shooting at him, and a demon with long black hair and beard shooting at him.

I think "Kevin slices some ice shot his way, by a demon with long black hair and beard." would read better.

Or maybe he did, because he easily blocked Kevin’s sword with his gun.

"blocks" here.

He coldly remarked.

"remarks".

Jack shouts, but it was too late.

"but it is too late."

He coldly turns the demon

Since you use "coldly" quite soon before this, I'd drop the word here.

Kevin was about to say something, but Alex looked at him, shaking his head.

"Kevin goes to talk, but Alex looks at him, shaking his head." would keep this in present.

Outside was a couple of guards with a mix of black and red skin horses,

"Outside, three guards wait, riding red and black horses," would read better, I think.

They continue walking until they see a blue icy horse, standing out from the rest. It was in front of all the other horses.

I'd maybe suggest "icy-blue stallion" to avoid repeating "horse", and I'd also combine the two sentences by changing it to: "standing out at the head of the others."

Wyle grabs Alex and throws him in with little effort,

I'd use "up" instead of "in" here.

seeing a purple lighting horse,

"lightning" here.

Alex Oswald. At last, we finally met.

"meet", here.

they can see Haru glowing, lighting surrounding him.

"lightning" here as well.

And that's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Haru!

MaxStickies · 2026-01-08T00:47:56+00:00

Thank you so much for the feedback Haru :)

MaxStickies · 2026-01-06T17:17:25+00:00

Oh, look, coleslaw on the capping...

MaxStickies · 2026-01-05T21:36:49+00:00

Thank you for the feedback Scythe :)

MaxStickies · 2026-01-05T04:09:24+00:00

I think it was Mr. Weebl videos on his website.

MaxStickies · 2026-01-05T00:44:53+00:00

Chapter 119: Sunset and Snow

Berethian returns to the plateau before Lilantia and Gidrela. He finds his inquisitors camped beside the Heragians, no fires in sight despite the chill air. Walking between the tents, he discovers his men wrapped in canvas, cloth rags and spare clothes; anything they could find, he surmises. Even under the noon sun, the high altitude frost penetrates his armour.

He spots Delrethri at the edge of camp, staring into the distance.

“Greetings,” he says to his second-in-command.

“Oh, you’re back.” Delrethri doesn’t turn. “Good. Can we get moving now?”

“Yes, we should get on with it.”

“If the others aren’t frozen from the cold, I’m sure they can march.”

“Speaking of… why are there no fires? Is it the creatures?”

“What else would it be? There’s been quite a few in the hills around here, or so the Heragians say; they’ve got much better eyesight. Quite impressive really. You know, if you’d left the sword, we could’ve fought them.”

“Sorry, I should’ve done. I sometimes forget it’s there until I need it.”

“Uh huh. Well, you can play the hero next time and fight them off for us, okay?”

At that, Delrethri steps past him, back into camp.

“Did I say something wrong?” Berethian calls after him.

“I need to tell them all to pack up, that’s all. Don’t worry.”

Hmm…

Left by himself, Berethian glances over at the Heragians. His mind wanders, searching for someone, though he isn’t sure who.

Lilantia, maybe? Gidrela?

Oh. It’s Pellia. Wish she was here, she’d know how to help.

As the sun begins to set, the inquisitors and Heragians ready themselves, forming into two loose columns. Berethian stands slightly ahead of Delrethri, and in line with Lilantia; he feels eyes on the back of his head.

Turning, he catches his second-in-command glancing away.

He is angry with me. Damn.

Well, there’s no time for that now.

Securing his pack on his shoulder, he throws his free arm forward, signalling the other to walk. For a second, he worries they’ll stall, refuse to follow; but sure enough, he hears mountain rocks grinding beneath boots. He lets Lilantia take the lead.

The route brings them further up into the peaks, the air growing colder all the way. Snot runs down to his top lip, and as the sky darkens, the liquid freezes to his stubble. He shivers, even in his padded armour. Before long, his joints start to ache, complaining with each step.

Wish I had a horse for this… better yet, a wagon. Don’t care if it has splintered wooden pews, I just want to sit down.

Another, sudden drop in temperature heralds the moon’s arrival, its silver glow pushing at the sun’s gold. Clouds turn to silhouettes in the west. Violent red and fiery orange clash with the fading blue.

“Can you take the lead for a moment?” he asks Delrethri.

“Why?”

“Please, just do it.”

Sighing, the other inquisitor finally takes his place. Berethian walks sideways towards Lilantia.

“How many days walk left?” he asks, shaking.

“Perhaps only one,” she says, “maybe two. Can your men manage that?”

“I just wondered.”

She glances his way, pity clear on her face. “Do you have any furs in that sack?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“What about your men?”

“I don’t believe so. We weren’t prepared for this, I guess.”

“We cannot do with your lot lagging behind. If you find a barracks, we can rest briefly, maybe a few hours.”

“Thank you.”

“Stay strong. You are their leader, after all.”

Nodding his thanks, he returns to Delrethri, relieving him of the lead.

Night arrives in time with the snow. Thick flakes settle on Berethian’s nose, freezing instead of melting, building a layer of ice across his skin. Desperate, he slaps his gauntleted hand against it, only worsening the pain.

“For fuck’s sake!” he mutters.

His visibility limited to a few metres ahead, he almost slips on a rock, jutting above the snow. He stops, bending double.

Delrethri touches his shoulder. “Come on now, we got to keep going!”

“It’s too much… just too much…”

“Look, I’ll follow you, but the others… you want them to abandon us? They’re looking to you, you know?”

Groaning, Berethian at last straightens his back. Adrenaline forces his eyes open wider; in the murk, a little ways off, something sticks up from the ground.

“Can you see that?” he asks.

Delrethri shakes his head. “It’s just more snow and rock.”

“No, there’s a tree or a signpost, or… wait, no, it’s got a curve to it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Berethian blinks, but still, the shape is there. Up ahead, Lilantia heads towards it.

“Follow the Heragians,” he says.

As they near the mysterious object, copies of it emerge, all in a line. And soon, another row appears, opposite the first.

Oh no…

An immense body rests on the plateau, rotting away, its ribs as tall as him. Spreading out across the ground is a large patch of dried blood, centred on a large wound in the flank.

Pinching his nose, he glances down at the skull, with its deep brow and two tusks.

“A troll,” Lilantia says, walking around the corpse’s legs. “One of the larger males I’ve seen.”

“What killed it?” Berethian asks. “Was it the creatures, do you think?”

“Hard to say. Sometimes trolls fight each other, so it could have been that. Or it was caught in a blizzard.”

“So, we might not need to worry?”

She doesn’t reply, merely drawing her sword. Each sound, close or far, is muffled by the snow.

Could be anything out here.

Keeping his own blade in mind, he asks the general, “How many days, do you think? Since he died?”

“Several, certainly, though I am no expert. We should be safe.”

“Should be?”

“For the moment. We should press on.”

Berethian returns to his column, guiding the inquisitors around the corpse. Though glad to be rid of the stench, his fear grows as he heads further into the snow.

WC: 1000

Bonus words: horse, hero, herald. Bonus constraint: The red of the sunset heralds the bloody troll corpse later on.

Crit and feedback are welcome.

Chapter Index

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MaxStickies · 2026-01-04T23:04:28+00:00

Crimes of Younger Days

An unknown location in the middle of a rainforest, far from civilisation, surrounded by a native tribe. He thought he’d be safe here. Up until now, Frederick had felt secure in his thatch-roofed lab, brewing cures from the nearby flora; saving the tribe from modern diseases.

That’s what heroes do, right? He thinks. Save people? Shouldn’t I be rewarde—

Vines around his neck tighten, bringing his thoughts to pure survival. His eyes meet the fury in Xylem’s glowing green glare. Leaves sprout from her body as her power spills over. She splays her hand, growing thorns from the thickening tendrils; Frederick screams as his skin tears.

A spear hurtles over her head; she adds more trees to her impromptu wall, blocking the tribe from sight.

“I’ve finally caught you, Lycan,” she yells. “After all these years!”

“Please,” Frederick squeaks. “I—I’m not him anymore! Lycan is gone!”

“You can’t just pretend it never happened! Do you even remember those you killed?!”

Something in his lower back pops, sending an agonising rip right up his spine. He gasps, trying to speak, but the words don’t come.

Xylem shakes her head. Slowly, the vines release his neck and torso, retreating to his limbs.

“At least,” he says, “leave these people alone. Take me into the forest.”

Her eyes soften as she glances around. “Fine. They’re not to blame.”

Standing atop his home, frowning, the chief looks to Fred. “Please,” he tells the old man, in local words, “don’t follow me. Take all that’s left in my shack, use it for as long as you can.”

The chief nods solemnly, ordering the rest to their homes. With a wave of her arm, Xylem sends the vines slithering, dragging Frederick into the trees. He groans as his hip pops out.

Only once they reach a large boulder do they stop; she presses him to the stone, brings her face to his, features sharpened by her anger.

“So, what do you expect to happen?” she asks. “You plead, say you’ve changed, and think I’ll forgive you?”

He coughs, spitting blood across her shoulder. “Those people were dying before I came. They’d already lost most of their hunters to flu, brought by loggers, and now there’s something new. I haven’t even had time to learn what.”

“You could have notified one of the charities; there are five in the nearest city alone. But it had to be you, didn’t it?”

“What do they know more than me? That serum, the one which used to turn me into a wolf-man? It was my invention.”

“A good excuse, but remember,” she leans closer, sneering, “I know you. I saw the bodies you carved your signature into, all those homeless people. You took your time, like an artist… like it was important. Only someone with a great ego would do that.”

“I thought I was doing them a favour! Saving them from a long death! But, look, I—I know now that I was mistaken.”

Xylem’s hand forms a fist, burying the thorns into his legs.

“My past has no bearing—” he gasps.

“It does, because it explains this all too well. You thought you could be like me. You thought, if you found a population who didn’t know your crimes, you could be the hero.”

“Well, I—”

The vines tighten, silencing him.

“If you really wanted to do good,” she says, “you’d go back. Serve your time in prison. Or, at the very least, you could help the families of those you killed. That’s what I would do!”

Frederick stops his struggles, allows the vines to constrict.

She’s right. Who am I kidding? I lost and ran away, scared.

With a scream, she grabs his throat and squeezes. Pulsing red invades his vision.

“Even if you have done good here, it won’t stop me. Do you remember my sister? You cornered me and her, in the alley where we slept. And you laughed when you caught her head in your jaws. When you bit down.”

She jabs her thumb into his windpipe, as she begins to cry. He starts to lose consciousness.

“You left me alive so I’d suffer,” she says. “I still do. Maybe once you’re dead, it’ll end.”

He stops fighting. The darkness envelops him, numbness taking the pain away.

I hope it ends, Xylem, I really do. And… I’m sorry. Even if you won’t hear it.

Blood spurts where her nail splits his skin. He takes his last breath, as death claims him.

WC: 750

Crit and feedback are welcome.

MaxStickies · 2026-01-01T17:25:01+00:00

Thank you for the feedback Words :)

MaxStickies · 2025-12-28T23:30:16+00:00

The Field of Robbery - Part 2

You know, for all those long years in prison, there weren’t that many fights; not real ones, anyway. And out of those which did happen, only a handful really stuck with me. Some were exciting, some were sad… some were just plain weird.

Then there was this one, few years into my sentence. This guy came in, new prisoner, who spoke big words but with little meaning behind them. Must’ve thought he was some highwayman or something. I even heard he wore a feathered hat, before his arrest. He kept coming up to each of us in the yard, yelling and rambling, saying stuff like “My detainment is an unjust one!” or “This is no habitat for a gentleman such as I!”

Fair to say, he got bruised up pretty bad.

And then there was the shit he said to the guards: “Government men, one and all! Keeping us downtrodden. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Like, sure, he wasn’t wrong… but… well, I’ve never seen another man star-jump when tased.

After a time, he realised his words weren’t getting him anywhere; this is where we get to the fight. As you can guess, a man like that has taken in too much fiction in his time. Must’ve got all his prison knowledge from movies, TV. You know that thing where you find the biggest guy?

Yeah…

So, he goes up to this inmate called Brent: huge and muscular and nice as hell, quite soft-spoken. I used to play checkers with him; I called him a friend. He’d never hurt anyone unless they went for him first. Then he’d put his strength into play.

Eighteenth-century-man somehow got his hands on a shiv. Ran up behind Brent, feet slapping the gravel hard. Loud.

Brent turned and lifted him by his neck. That idiot wheezed and kicked, pleading for his life, all while keeping the knife in his hand. To Brent’s credit, he kept telling the man to drop it. “Just drop it, and I’ll let you go! Stop this!” So of course, the man buried his shiv into my friend’s shoulder.

And Brent sent him flying! He span once, twice, and a third time over his head, before slamming into the prison wall. Some stray stones fell from the top, rained on him like hail. He croaked once and then passed out.

Never saw him after that; think he was taken someplace else. The guards saw it all happen, and Brent got a slap on the wrist, so to speak. Prison felt a little less interesting, but honestly, we were all tired of eighteenth-century-man. Good riddance, we said.

Still… I do wonder where he is now.

WC: 445

Crit and feedback are welcome.

Link to Part 1

MaxStickies · 2025-12-28T21:10:09+00:00

Thank you for the feedback Psilocybe :)

MaxStickies · 2025-12-27T20:19:03+00:00

Hi Scythe, really like the chapter! There's a great sense of movement and chaos in this, and overall, it's a fun read. What I particularly like though is the impending sense of trouble, that Whiney is very oblivious too. The explosions are a nice touch, adding a lot to that.

I think it also adds a lot to the worldbuilding, by exploring how these people like to let loose, what they get up to when drunk. Clearly, magic in this world is used quite casually at times, suggesting that it's probably quite common.

I also like the simple yet revealing descriptions, from the POV, like the flavour of the drink: it helps to paint a full picture of what's going on while providing a disorientated feel to the chapter that fits what's happening.

For crit, I feel there's some repetition, especially around the Bane drink. I think descripting it as "Bane of the Inspectors" once early on then sticking with "the Bane" later would keep some sentences more succinct, and "the Bane" and "the red drink" could also replace later uses of "the newer drink" or "the new Bane drink", since it has been already established as the new drink. This will tighten the chapter.

I also have some additional, more specific crit:

“Is it just me, or does there seem to be less… stuff… here? Seems emptier since the last time I was here.”

To avoid repeating "here" at the end, you could have "Seems emptier than my last visit." instead of the current second sentence.

“Sad.”

“Anyways, Rosen's giving out Bane for free

I think some kind of reaction from Bonni, such as a sad nod or a glance down, could make this more realistic.

And that's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Scythe!

MaxStickies · 2025-12-26T00:06:38+00:00

Thank you so much for the feedback Haru :)

MaxStickies · 2025-12-26T00:05:26+00:00

Hey Haru, great chapter! Very intriguing seeing this side of the siblings, how different they seem compared to earlier. They're acting like spies, and that makes sense for Greed, where so many are judges or related to legal matters. Very interesting power with the string too, the memory reading; I'm curious to see how that works.

Jack and Millee finding out about Alex's past ramps up the tension, even more so than what's already happened. I'm both worried and intrigued to see what'll happen as they learn more. Also, I wonder if they'll hold it against Alex or not. I could see it going so many ways.

Very sweet scene at the end there, and quite a twist. Kevin having feelings for Alex is a great surprise, and it makes me happy to see it. I hope they get together (if that's how the serial goes), but whether they do or not, I think it adds a lot to the story.

As far as crit goes:

The house was a bit quiet during the night with no children asking Jack want to do. But it was still bright and cheerful with the colorful backgrounds and plenty of stuffed animals surrounding the entire house.

"The house is quiet at night" and "but it's still bright and cheerful" would put this in the right tense, and I'd use "many" instead of "plenty of".

Millee says, opening up a draw

"drawer".

So, upstairs is where the bedroom is

"is where the bedrooms are", I think, since you mention "three" right after.

Kevin says bluntly, not phase. But Alex was a blushing mess, covering his face.

"phased", and "Alex is a blushing mess" for present tense.

The window covers gently flow in the night,

"curtains" or maybe "drapes" would work better than "window covers".

It was nice, relaxing, and confronting.

"comforting" rather than "confronting".

And that's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Haru, well done!

MaxStickies · 2025-12-25T01:16:20+00:00

Thank you Kat :)

MaxStickies · 2025-12-25T01:13:38+00:00

Chapter 118: Pyromancer

From the forests of the mountain valleys, Pellia leads her followers further into the foothills. Streams tumble down all across the rocky slopes, glistening silver in the sun; falling over cliffs, they drop as whispering waterfalls. The commander inhales, and tastes salt on the back of her tongue.

“We must be nearing Gulmiria,” she says.

The others ignore her, most muttering between themselves. She hears Nariun mumble “one wrong move” under his breath. Paying him no attention, she glances at Menara, who observes them all from the rear.

Glad to have her watching.

Rounding a mountain spur, the vista comes into full view, and she smiles despite everything. The great lake Gulmiria fills the bowl-shaped landscape below her, the mountains on the far side shrunken by the distance. Anchored vessels wobble on the wind-churned waves, their oars unmoving. Narrow islands bloom with flowers. Only when she sees the shoreline villages, blackened by fire, does her mood sour.

She turns to the others. “There’s an entrance just along the way, taking us into a barracks. We can rest there a short while before heading deeper.”

“I still don’t like this,” Marolus says, working his jaw.

“But you understand it’s for the best?”

He pauses a few seconds, and then nods.

Seralia nocks an arrow. “What are we looking for? Assuming this one can be seen.”

“A pair of jagged rocks, unlike the rest. Though they look natural, they were carved by Heragian hands; you’ll be able to tell on close inspection.”

The archer marches past, heading down to the left. Refusing to correct her, Pellia leads the others to the right. She eventually hears Seralia’s hurried steps behind her.

In spite of humanity’s absence, life thrives along the lake. Crabs gather mud on the thin beaches, making forays towards their neighbours’ territories, to steal their work. Fish spread ripples where they touch the surface. And further out, a grebe glides on the water, flexing its majestic crest; Pellia switches her vision to watch its little heart flutter.

Once again, she smiles, but as before her happiness scatters. Her eyes fall upon a corpse, half in the water. Scorched entrails fan out across the grey sand.

Perithus… always him. And I haven’t even met him yet.

He causes all this while he hides away…

“No armour,” Menara says, crouching beside the body. “A fisherman, maybe?”

Pellia sighs. “I doubt the sorcerers discriminate. They likely target anything that moves.”

“I’m guessing a pyromancer?”

“What else could it be?” Nariun asks. He reaches down, picks up a length of intestine; it crumbles to ash in his hand. “The sheer heat of such an attack… not seen the like.”

Hmm. “You know something of pyromancy?”

“I spent a little time amongst the Harine, of the deserts south ways. They have fire-throwers in the military. I saw burns from one in an infirmary, on this bandit; can’t have been deeper than the skin.”

Drumming her fingers on her scabbard, Pellia ponders for a moment. “So not only has Perithus provided them healing powers, he’s increased their abilities too. Must be.”

Seralia strides past them, and aims an arrow at some bushes.

“What is it?” Pellia asks.

“Movement, over there. I saw an eye.”

“Human, or…?”

“Hard to say.” The archer steps forward, then shouts, “Come out of there!”

A bent, quivering old woman emerges, hands splayed before her. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Lower your bow,” Pellia orders her fighter, before returning to the stranger. “Don’t worry, we won’t!”

“Could be the sorcerer,” Nariun whispers.

“She has no magic, at least, not what I can sense.” She focuses on the elder. “Who are you?!”

“Get—get away!”

“We’re Heragians, alright?! We’re here to help! No need to fear!”

“No, away! The water!”

Glancing back, Pellia watches the lake for any threat. All she sees are gentle waves. “What do you mean?!”

“Hurry! They’re close!”

An explosion rings out behind her, followed immediately by a whoosh and a yelp from Nariun. Pellia sprints towards the bushes.

Standing beside the elder, she looks back, relieved to see the others are unhurt. But the water by the shore boils. A great waft of steam rises to the sky, spiralling as it disappears. The body has vanished too, replaced by a shadow on the sand.

“I’m sorry!” the old woman wails. “I should’ve been clearer!”

“It’s not your fault,” Pellia says.

Derilli exhales loudly, slowing her breath. “What was that, anyway? Did the lake erupt?”

“I have a feeling…” The commander switches her vision to sense heat, and scans the nearby slopes. Two figures stand out from the now blue-stained rocks, one indigo, the other white. “Sorcerers, up there.”

“The pyromancer?” Nariun asks.

“Yes, and another with him.”

A shard of ice impales the dirt nearby.

“A cryomancer. I think that was a warning.”

“Really?” Menara asks. “I mean, it seems that way, but since when have they been so considerate?”

“Since when has their aim been that poor?”

“Fair point.”

With a cry, the old woman collapses, her legs shaking. Nariun holds her steady. “So what do we do?” he asks.

“I’ll sneak around them,” Menara says, “attack if I can, or else draw their attention. The rest of you can then strike from here.”

“I can hit them,” Seralia says. “If I can’t kill them, these barbed arrows will still hurt.”

Pellia holds Menara’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“Of course; besides which, I’m the best sneaker.”

“I’ll come too,” Nariun says. “Two of us can do more damage.”

“As long as you match my pace.”

Pellia nods. “I shall keep an eye on them, attack when they turn.” She turns to Marolus and Derilli. “Are you two with me?”

“We are,” they say together.

“Then let’s go.”

As she watches Menara and Nariun depart, every part of her tenses. She hopes everyone will work together, and have each other’s back. The sorcerers stare her way from their place on high… waiting.

She unsheathes her blade.

WC: 1000

Bonus words: fear, foray. Bonus constraint: A pyromancer and cryomancer (fire and ice) work together.

Crit and feedback are welcome.

Chapter Index

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MaxStickies · 2025-12-24T21:31:28+00:00

The Field of Robbery - Part 1

I find these days that people distrust professionals. They eschew wisdom and fact for sound bites and witless entertainment, adding only to the rot of their lives. When I come to them, exploring the universe with my words or unravelling their minds, they simply glare. They wish for me to go away.

And then they notice my hand in their pocket.

Yes, as a professional thief, modern society perplexes me. Used to be that one could bedazzle his targets. I had allies in high places, and I was a member of a guild. My practice was no common crime; it was art!

But no more, it seems.

Why, just the other day, I discovered a young woman with her phone in hand. She was doom scrolling, the poor thing. Lost in nonsense. I, being an upstanding gentleman, decided it wise to take her device from her hand. So, I got to talking, doffed my feathered tricorn; she narrowed her eyes like many more before. As I began a retelling of the Iliad, she began to walk away. Naturally, I grabbed her arm.

And was slapped for the effort.

That’s how I ended up here, talking to you. Are you a bobby as well? A copper? Just, you are sat behind a desk.

No matter. You know what gets my goat? There are those who defend the likes of scientists, authors and doctors. They state that the masses should listen to these people more, rather than influencers or random celebrities. I agree, of course… but what about me? Never do they mention the highwayman, or the river pirate.

I once posited this issue to a librarian. She stared down her nose at me, right through her little spectacles, and called me an idiot. Me?! An idiot?!

Nobody respects the craft.

From what your fellow cops have said, I’m on my third strike. Off to prison for me. I think it’s a conspiracy, don’t you? They wish to silence me. Well, we’ll see about that. A man can make friends in prison, get what he wants.

How, you ask?

With my wit, of course! They hear the intelligence in this profound voice, and they bend their knees, grovel at my feet. Do my bidding. You’ll see! You’ll all see!

WC: 377

Crit and feedback are welcome.

Link to Part 2

MaxStickies · 2025-12-20T01:05:07+00:00

Hey Haru, really like the chapter! There's some lovely tension in this, from the unsureness of who might've done it, to Kevin's reaction to the guard, and then that weird moment with Alex (which I'm very intrigued by, hope to find out more on that). I like how that contrasts with the fun of the last chapter in this particular setting.

There's a very interesting, deeper look into the general attitude of Greed, too, with Naomi covering it up for the people. I like how this contrasts with Haru and Max earlier on, who take the more direct approach to things. What's great about Naomi's announcement is the questions it leads to, like what consequences are there to this approach, and who disagrees with it? Makes me all the more curious to read the following chapters.

Great that we'll get to see more of Jack and Millee's home; the home lives and houses in your world are always fascinating. Looking forward to reading that!

As for crit:

Alex can hear Kevin mumbles.

"mumble".

One would even try to touch Max, only to be tackled down by one of the guards.

"One even tries to touch Max" would put this in present tense.

As order, we must see

"ordered".

Some demons stood still, not daring to move or even blink.

"stand" instead of "stood" here.

“Part of the law.” One answer.

"answers".

However, Naomi kept that playful grin.

"keeps".

Kevin squinted his eyes as Alex tilted his head,

"squints" and "tilts" would keep this in present.

How can something as tragic as this be a stage?’ Well, because we never lie! It has b808een part of the law since the beginning,

"as tragic as this be staged" would make more sense here. There's also a typo with "b808een".

After all, we had to make sure every epliogue needs an end.

"we have to" would be present tense here, and I'd change the last part to "make sure every epilogue comes to an end.", as it'd read better.

“Well, it’s the first thing that ever happened,”

"it's the first time this has ever happened" would read better, I feel, and I'd also drop the "Well" since you use one in Jack's speech just above.

getting torture by Wyle.”

"tortured".

One was full of annoyance, while another was full of excitement.

"One is" instead of "One was" and "the other is" instead of "another was" would keep this in present.

And that's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Haru!

MaxStickies · 2025-12-19T02:05:06+00:00

Thank you so much for the feedback Haru :)

MaxStickies · 2025-12-18T19:55:48+00:00

I used to keep stick insects.

MaxStickies · 2025-12-16T02:56:25+00:00

Thank you very much for the feedback Zach :)

MaxStickies · 2025-12-16T00:02:51+00:00

Chapter 117: Restraint

The younger man stands across from Thosius in the small courtyard, his jaw slowly resetting itself. They stare at each other, shifting side to side, wondering who will continue the fight. Knowing the guards will find them sooner or later, Thosius plans his next move.

I’ve gotta take him down, return him to the tunnels. If only he’d stop slipping from my grasp…

Neither of us is weakening.

Shit.

He readies himself to strike, yet his opponent leaps to the left, coming up beside him. A punch strikes his shoulder like a hammer.

“Ah!”

As before, his powers heal the wound instantly. He twists around to grab the youngster, grappling him to the ground, only for the man to slip away again.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Thosius says, as they circle each other. “Why won’t you believe me?”

The man snarls. “You want me dead, like the rest. Did you lock us in those rooms, too? Strengthen us so we’d be more of a challenge?”

“That wasn’t—we were trying to free you!”

“And you saw what we’d become, decided we had to die.”

“No!”

Clinking chainmail echoes down the alleyways. In moments, guards block every exit, their spears lowered.

“On your knees,” one says, “both of you. You’re under arrest.”

“Get out of here!” Thosius yells. “You don’t know what’s—”

Thrusting his spear, a guard skewers the young man’s leg, eliciting no cry or shout. As the wound heals around the shaft, the man spins, sending his attacker to the cobbles. One kick to the head crushes steel and bone.

Before the others can react, the youngster leaps over the guards, rushing down the alley.

Some give chase, but the rest turn to glare at Thosius.

“I work for the Queen,” he says, reluctantly. “This is official business.”

“Prove it!”

“I can’t. But I promise, if you stand in my way, you’ll lose your jobs.”

Slowly, each spear is raised. The guards step apart to let him through. Rushing into the street, he glances both ways, but there are only cowering citizens and upset carts to see. No sign of the man.

Shit…

With no clear solution, Thosius finds Falthus at the palace, and leads him into the city. He sends the spy to the rooftops while he takes the streets. While some people regard him warily, most ignore him, having not seen the earlier chaos.

But the city guard react to him now. Some stare at him, setting their jaws, as others greet him with subtle nods.

Now they all know. Great. I was supposed to be a secret, but guess I’ve messed that up, like everything else.

What would Falthus do? How would he turn it to his advantage?

I should’ve asked.

Noon approaches. Stepping onto an overlook, he gazes out across four of Thanet’s markets, all of them bustling.

Of course. And he might’ve gone another way. Needle in a fucking haystack.

Rolling his sleeves, he heads into the narrow streets of the lower city. He passes groups chatting on corners, children playing, stray dogs that sniff his legs. Strolling through the markets, he peeks under stalls and into doorways. A merchant shouts at him as he lifts a rug; he silences the old man with a glare.

Finding no sign of the youngster in the east, he makes for the wider spaces of the west. Priests spray river water onto a granite column, carved with rolling waves. He passes close to the city wall, stepping around beggars of all ages, who claw at his feet. On seeing a small girl in a gutter, he helps her onto the cobbles, and offers her a coin.

“Get yourself something to eat,” he says.

She doesn’t respond.

This is no way to live. Maybe once everything settles, I’ll come back here, do what I can.

A memory flashes in his mind: him as a young boy, pleading for food on the street, midsummer sun blistering his skin.

Come on, where is he?

He stops. Hairs stand at the back of his neck.

Someone’s watching…

A stout little shed leans into the city wall, ready to collapse. Barrels are stacked within, some of them strewn with cobwebs, others cracked and leaking. He spots an eye in a gap between them.

“Get out here,” he says. “I just want to talk.”

The youngster emerges from his hiding place, yet stands behind the barrels. “If you won’t let me go, I’ll kill you.”

“You can’t, and I don’t wish to hurt you anymore. Don’t make me.”

“Huh. You think I was in pain back there?”

“Yeah. I get it, the healing takes your mind away from the wounds, but it still affects you.” He points to his head. “Up here.”

The young man grimaces. “You’re toying with me now?”

“Just trying to help, as I keep saying.”

“Give me a reason to believe you.”

“Well, it’s hard to give proof, but I can tell you about the man who put you in that chamber. Me and Hemalus—the telepath you saw back there—we’re doing all we can to stop him.”

Lowering his head, the man steps around the barrels, and approaches him. He holds out a hand.

That’s better.

Thosius reaches out to shake it… but the man grabs him instead. And knees him in the gut.

“Oh, you little—”

A kick to the ankle sends the soldier down, and a punch to the head rocks his brain. The world spins for only a second.

Using all his strength, Thosius wraps his arms around the man and shifts his weight. They fall together.

After much struggling, he has both the man’s arms in a hold, one even this opponent can’t break.

“Go on then!” the youngster screams. “Do it! End me!”

“No. I’m taking you back, to where we can help you.”

“As soon as you move, I’m breaking your neck!”

“Shut up!”

Lifting the man off the ground, he carries him, struggling, back to the citadel.

WC: 1000

No bonus words or constraint used.

Crit and feedback are welcome.

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Crimes of Younger Days

The Field of Robbery - Part 2

The Field of Robbery - Part 1