thought i would show up, my other story is almost done. [b]Quality of Mercy[/b] [i] The drop ship shattered against the fierce winds of the Martian desert. The light above my fireteam flickered on, turning red. The drop would commence in ten seconds. Out of my little window i saw the faint outline of a city. One both buried and destroyed by this sand. The light transitioned to yellow, 5 seconds. I made my way to the end of the drop ship just as the ramp began to fall. I checked to make sure i was ready to drop, I never finished. Everything behind me was suddenly engulfed in flames and i was thrown out of the poor little ship. I caught once last glance at the thing before it suddenly erupted again and was no more. I used tried using bit of space magic to slow my perilous decent into the city below. But i hit the ground hard and everything around me seemed to fade. I woke up sometime later. My shoulder was throbbing and my vision was blurred. The space magic worked, sort of. I was still alive, and now i needed to find a way out of here. The objective no longer mattered, I was all alone. And the jungle does not treat the lone wolf well. As i got up i noticed the sand was whipping around the city, and more importantly around something standing in the street. I walked through a courtyard towards the figure. Whatever it was, it turned towards me, beckoning me forward. And i listened. Just before i reached the figure, my legs gave out, I collapsed into the sand. I heard a voice, it simply said "Rest guardian, you are in the care of friends." I was more than happy to oblige the voice. And she was more than happy to help me rest...[/i] Exactly 299 words. anyways i hope you guys enjoyed my short story.

[quote]Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for us writers to take center stage for a time. The Black Garden as well as our friends over in Arts and Stuff are going to host a contest that is solely devoted to writers. The rules are simple. For any who wish to enter, you are tasked with writing a short little anecdote that is to have a maximum of 300 words. The location for this piece of work is to be located in the picture provided above. The deadline for entering is this Sunday at midnight. For any who wish to enter, please submit your stories by placing them in the comments. Judging will be done in two phases. The first phase will consist of a Panel of both groups reading over each story and deciding which seven are the best of the best. Once the first stage is complete, we shall hand it over to you, the audience, to decide who is ranked number one as lore master. The Winner of this contest shall receive a print of the Buried City signed by the Destiny writing team. Good luck and Be Brave.[/quote] Sorry I only right chapters there's no way I could go under 300 words I mean I use 300 just for the first half of the backstory or the setting if you wish if you decide to make a contest where it's more let me know ill define rely participate

In the Buried City, silent and lifeless as it had been since history forgot its name, a lone figure haunted its sand choked streets for the first time in many years. The figure was a warlock. Cloaked in a dusty red trench coat and a rounded metal helmet that concealed his face, his expression of an unspeakable lack of fulfilment. The Cabal had made his journey to the lost Buried City a kind of trial that could have been the thirteenth labour of Hercules that even a demigod could not complete. His squad mates, his friends, were lost to those relentless, fury-driven meat grinders. He was left with three bullets for his revolver - not enough. And after all of this not even the bones of the forgotten were there to greet him. The warlock raised one hand to the sky, fingers spread. Immediately what looked like a red rust materialised on his hand, then down his arm, then on his shoulder, upper body and so on until his entire form was shaded in red. He chuckled to himself; he wasn't quite dead yet and still the red sands of the buried city was trying to bury him. His chuckle soon turned to coughing - even dying breath needs some water it seemed. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees. His legs had given way and now his raised hand was limp by his side. He allowed himself to fall forth but made a sharp turn of his body and fell on his back. The Buried city began to swallow him whole - slowly. He looked one last time at the sun, it once warmed him but now it only irradiated a chilling cold. Closing his eyes one last time he let out a great exhalation. And the Buried City welcomed its new inhabitant with a great embrace.

He returned back to his favorite place to sit and ponder over the days events to find it infested with cabal. He completely wiped the building of them with his pistol and magic. Once he knew he was alone he thought to himself the past few days events... His friends...most of them...killed, he was all alone like he used to be. Never had he felt so cold despite being in a warm climate. He knew soon that more cabal would be there soon. Most guardians were glorified heroes were they only knew how to shoot and fight, but he and his Comrades, allies, friends, family knew exactly how the enemy functioned, which way they went and how they hunted. (121) So he waited knowing that one dropship would come circle around while the ground team searches and then if needed reinforcements would come. So he sat up in a nearby building till the ship came, dropped most of the cabal inside it and started to circle. At one point it seemed like the ship would never go near him but just as he was about to give up it flew right next to him and he hopped on top and went in through a turret opening and killed everyone inside, called off reinforcements and left back for a hanger in a safe zone with his military personnel at it. (230) Good morning said his colonel to him and he saluted but hastily made way to his jet in which he was starting up when his colonel and a few other members came to him for comfort. They all bonded over the past few years and when Zack lost everything they helped him out, after all they could use his engineering and tactical skills. He looked back and said "Good luck"... Bam! 300 words exactly and I did it for you Aloki hope you like it there is some background left out for reasons but if I need it just let me know and thanks for reading :)

When the Titan arrived at the LZ, an old decrepit ghost town awaited him, half buried by rust-colored sand. Strong winds screamed and swirled around the bulky Guardian. Visibility was low due to the billowing clouds of sand caught up in the violent howling winds. The Titan ventured deep into the dilapidated ancient remains of humanity's former glory. Suddenly a blast ripped through the thick, red veil of dust, narrowly missing the Titan. He instinctively shouldered his LMG. The shrieks of dregs and vandals drew closer. When the pack emerged, they rushed after the Titan chaotically. The Guardian opened fire with merciless intent, shredding the Fallen group's integrity. Subsequently, a fearsome roar thundered; its echoes ricocheting off of the age-worn walls of the Buried City. An unusually large captain boldly and proudly strode out into the street ahead. With a grunt of disgust, the captain barked orders to his retreating subordinates. The Titan paced himself, pressing forward, dispatching the helpless Fallen soldiers. The captain charged after the Titan with furious determination. Without breaking stride, the Guardian fearlessly continued toward the imminent clash with the Fallen behemoth. The Titan hosed the incoming foe's center mass until his ammunition ran dry. Yet the captain defiantly refused to accept defeat and ferociously swung his swords at the Guardian. Effectively parrying and evading the blades, the Titan swung his rifle like a club, striking the alien commander with the stock. Immediately, he tackled the massive and dazed captain. Now with the advantage, the Guardian loosed a brutal, ruthless tempest of heavy punches and when the barrage subsided, he unleashed his devastating fists of havoc on the wounded opponent's face, utterly destroying the captain's head. The Titan slowly rose, reflecting on his commission. This was war. This was survival. The conflict humanity faced had no place for glory or honor. The selfless warrior vowed that he would shield the remnants of humanity, just like the Last City's Wall has for ages. As the Titan wrenched the twisted metal from his gauntlets, he understood his duty and his destiny...

Ok, hopefully this is open to Australian residents. [quote]The clinging red dust pounded beneath his feet as he sprinted through the streets of the Buried City. The young Warlock chanced a brief glance to his rear down the ancient avenues of the decaying metropolis. No sign of his monstrous pursuers. He took a left turn down what had once been a main road, now littered with debris from the mysterious Fall that had ravaged mankind centuries before. The causeway opened out a hundred metres ahead of him. Dim light, filtering through the dark clouds overhead, highlighted the swirling red dust that had risen up in the artificial wind created by the Golden Age terraforming process. The Warlock stopped for a moment, unsure of his location. He pressed on. He reached the large open space, and despair welled up inside him as a great gust cleared the Martian air. The skeletal remains of a wall of skyscrapers fenced the area, a sea of red-orange sand swamping any path forward. In the centre of the space, a low yellow structure squatted. The old metro station. It was as far from the Warlock’s spacecraft as was possible before one met the deep, red desert. Loud, mechanical thuds echoed within the urban jungle behind him. For the first time, he felt real, paralysing fear grip his chest. The Cabal were coming. He saw now his arrogance, his ignorance. He had completed his training and become a Guardian just one month before. How naïve he had been! His early forays into the wild outside the Wall, riding on the success of far greater Guardians, had been child’s play. Now he was alone on an enemy-occupied world, at the mercy of the Cabal. Then he knew. The grip of his weapon once more felt natural in his hands. He could fell the Traveller’s power coursing through his fingertips. This was what made a Guardian. This was his chance to become Legend. Destiny awaits. [/quote]

[b]Traveler's Nightsong[/b] The wind - cold, grating, hollow - bleeds through the bones of the buildings. The rasping breaths of an animal beaten, broken, abandoned. High above me it dances amongst sandy phantasms, beckoning me. With every gulp of sterile, metallic air through my damaged filter, with every desperate grasp at my next footstep, I feel a little closer to them. Just a little calmer. Every few steps I feel myself lifted by them - I feel my feet leave the ground, feel all the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders - before I fall once again into the broken remains of the ground. I stare back at the macabre breadcrumb trail I have left. Crimson, sullied by the sand, lit by a cold, distant knife of sunlight. Only upon seeing it, the Sun, so far away, abandoning me, do I know the grounds of home from whence I came, are lost to me. And thus I would drag myself from the tarnished ground and up upon my worn feet, and walk. I know no longer where it is I am headed. Memory is silent now. All there is, all that there ever would be, are the Tombs of a city - their shadows speaking of rest, the cracked, aching ground and the walking. There is no epilogue, no music, no cavalry on the hill. All the lights and angels of Heaven are silent. My footfalls like thunderclaps, my breaths quickening, the air like sandpaper in my throat. Maybe it is time now. I look up at the buildings, still, calm, empty, whilst the Sun shines of earlier times, I exhale once more as the clouds part. The wind exhales with me, it too now sleeps. And, soon, done with walking, I shall rest too.