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DystopiaNZ Vol1: Flint and Tinder, ch 1
Volume 1: Flint and Tinder
The chill of winter's eve stripped away what little residual warmth autumn had left. It was a week before the DystopiaNZ would be formed, and David was carefully fastening an old bike lock to an even older bicycle. He made certain that his bike was securely fastened to the stand and that even the wheels were locked in place. It was a routine he had established after returning to his main mode of transport one evening and finding the wheels had been stolen.
David shuddered in the cool southerly breeze as he checked the time on his cyPhone. As he slid the screen open, the high-tech device lit up with a soothing "bliiim" sound, and informed him he still had a few minutes until the lecture. Satisfied, he pocketed the nearly obsolete gadget and proceeded to rummage through his worn backpack, eventually locating his box of cigarettes and the lighte
Jack of all Shades fanficJack strolled along the metallic corridor, beside the captain of the Star Ship Pallette. The hooves of this centaur-like sentient clip-clopped, echoing ominously along the walkway. Lights brightened as the men approached, then slowly dimmed once again as the pair passed by. Sure, they could have easily taken the intra-ship teleporter to their destination, but Jack preferred to approach things in the spatial context they were located within - the atmosphere of a gallery could, after all, have a noticeable effect on one's appreciation of the art contained inside.
"I trust you know what an ark ship is, my guest?" the centaurid asked Jack. Jack nodded, his mask hiding his perplexed expression. An ark ship was a repository of a world's biodiversity, gathered before the world's ecosystem underwent a catastrophe. Ark ships aim to save unique worldly biology from a natural event such as a star going nova or a planet-scarring meteorite, or an artificial event like a nuclear holocaust or ruinous
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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