FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hey everybody. So I'm currently in the middle of the next chapter of College Life. I've been reading some stuff by good authors recently and I want to up the quality of my writing. I realise that College Life is very dialogue heavy, and while at times I think that's necessary, there are other times when I think it's a sign that I need to improve the quality of my writing. Anyway, I was reading up on tips on how to improve your writing and one suggestion was just to write something for the hell of it. So here's a very short story that I thought about on the bus home from work today. If there are ways you think I could improve the writing in it or College Life please drop me a comment, I'd really appreciate it.

Second Sighting

This was the place. Grak, a lithe black panther looked up at the derelict building that once would have garnered the title of mansion. Now, like so many other buildings from that bygone era the only term to fairly apply to it would be ruin. But, this was the place where Grak felt he might find what he'd been looking for.

Grak was a Seeker. His days were spent endlessly scavenging for any kind of technology or goods from the more prosperous years that he'd read about in textbooks; textbooks, which like most of his other worldly possessions, had been obtained on one of his many scavenger hunts. He'd sell these on or trade them for other tech in one of the many small settlements his travels took him too. More recently though he'd kept his ear to the ground trying to gather up any information on a piece of ancient technology. He'd heard it's name mentioned before but he'd forgotten and in the intervening period he had come to refer to it as the light-warper. Noone could recall ever seeing but rumours abounded as to its powers. Some said it could make the user invisible, others said it let the user see his or her true self, while others suggested it could blind the user's enemies.

He heard a noise in a distant street and realised he wouldn't have much time. When someone snoops around incessantly after ancient tech it quickly attracts the attention of other Seekers, many of whom had more powerful "friends" than Grak. Soon enough other people had started asking around after Grak's mark and speculation soon arose about the panther's intentions and knowledge. He knew he was being followed, but he had hoped he could shake off any pursuers in the previous settlement. While he would like to have believed that it was some stray creature that had accidentally scuffled with some trash, his Seeker instincts, which he'd honed over the years, told him otherwise.

Grak took one more look at the exterior of the ruin. Any paint that may have existed years before was gone now. Most of the windows were broken, and the few that weren't, were caked in layers upon layers of filth and grime that few would dare to clean for fear of their own personal hygiene and safety.

Kicking down the rotting wooden door, the panther was assaulted by a burst of rot dust. His hand shot over his muzzle and his eyes snapped shut. Seconds later the side effects of his effort had subsided and his eyes took to the world once more. As he walked into the atrium, he made mental notes of the various rooms. To his right was a tall room. One side was lined with shelves and, what were once probably highly valued and sought after, books. To his left was the end of a long dining table; its other end concealed behind the collapsed roof of a floor in the room above. Directly in front were two staircases both proceeding to the same upper landing. He wondered what it all might have looked like when it was new. After a life spent travelling the wastes he doubted he could ever sit still in what would have been a fancy place like this.

There was another noise from outside followed by a scream. This one was nearer. He could only presume two parties with the same interest had clashed. He knew it would afford him a few extra moments but he was acutely aware that if he didn't get out soon, his probability of getting out at all would only continue to diminish. He rushed up the stairs, praying that they wouldn't give way beneath him. Grak was an atheist, and it seemed that whatever God presided in heaven had decided today was the day that Grak should see the error of his ways.

There was a resounding crack and then the world around him started to rise quickly- too quickly. He cursed as his chin collided with the stair in front of him, and he scrabbled desperately with clawed hands and feet to pull himself up. There was no time for recovery and he pressed on resolutely, unaware of the 2 pairs of eyes that were already following him.

Facing forward, he found himself faced with a corridor. Not any corridor, this corridor seemed to stretch on into oblivion with thousands of doors on either side, though when he blinked again he realised that there could only have been about fourteen at most.

He dashed from room to abandoned room. Worn out, rotting furniture was testament to the cruel torture the house had endured over the many years since its prime until the fall of civilisation. Grak was finishing his examination of the seventh room when his blood went cold.

"Grak! We know you're in here. We've already lost two good men trying to find this shit hole and we sure as hell ain't impressed. So if you value that piece of crap that you call your life, you better come out where we can see you and then hightail the fuck out of here!"

The panther could hear four-no-at least 6 pairs of footsteps entering the atrium. If they were the group he thought they were, showing himself in the open was out of the question. The only time they would extend their hand to you would be to pull you onto their knife points. He had no choice, he had to speed up his investigations, dashing down the remainder of the corridor his head shot from room to room making split second analyses of the contents. He could already hear the newcomers making their way up the intact staircase, and he knew it would take all of his luck to survive, and a miracle to do so with the light-warper.

Suddenly the other faction stopped and all went silent. Grak too remained motionless, knowing any step or noise could give him away. He could just about make out the sound of someone sniffing the air. He knew what the next words were going to be; the same Seeker instincts that had told him the initial noise was not merely a stray animal, were telling him his position was about to be given away. The silence persisted for a moment longer before Grak heard a loud cry.

"Harsha!!! Everyone, battle formation now. Hack, Shan get your glowies. Jan, Shorrak, Marz watch for eyes. Hendra, Kino you kno-arrgh!" The voice was cut short...literally. The team looked at where their leader had previously stood. Well, technically his lower half was still standing momentarily, his top half lay on the ground beside it, both halves working in unity to spray crimson life blood all over the remaining squad members.

The confusion would be his only opportunity. Grak raced past the remaining rooms, but there was nothing of note. Had he missed something? Had all of his leads put him on a wild goose chase? He spun on his heels and noticed that in the room on his right hand side something was now out of place. A broken rocking chair sat in one corner of the room and in the other corner Grak could see the arm rest and half a leg of what could only be that same armchair. More screams emanated from the staircase as Grak moved into the room and saw himself starting to appear in that same corner of the room. He grinned to himself. He'd found the light-warper, and as he felt Lady Luck smile upon him its true name surfaced at the back of his mind. It was called a "mirror".

Grak's stalkers were dwindling in numbers but finally the glowsticks were having their desired effect. Harshas' capabilities for camouflage were unparalleled. It was said a Harsha could walk in front of you and you wouldn't be able to tell it was their unless it opened its four golden eyes. However, this Harsha's camouflage was now it's downfall. Basking in the ambient green light of the glowsticks, the adaptation process had already started and it's position was given away.

The six legged beast possessed an obsidian razor-blade tail and deadly-looking claws. The claws were actually a red herring, being used almost exclusively for climbing, while its tail was its true weapon. One of Grak's trackers, Kino, had once managed to obtain the tail of a Harsha in a market and had fashioned it into a deadly razor sharp weapon. Unfortunately, her body had already also joined the leader's body in the latest fashion of splitting itself into two halves and frollicking bloodily all over the floor. Another member of the group, Shorrak, had taken up the blade in her stead and now had his eyes trailed on the patchwork coloured beast in front of him. The Harsha pounced.

To anyone unfamiliar with Harsha killing patterns, the fact that the Harsha sailed clear to the left of Shorrack, would have been cause for a minor celebration. To those who were familiar, it was a cause to duck; Shorrack belonged to the latter. As he ducked the razor blade tail whipped around and whistled through the point in the air previously occupied by his waist. He heard the Harsha hiss in frustration and knew there was no time to consider his next move. In one fluid motion he turned and rammed the sword in the direction of the source of the irate noise.

Grak heard another scream from the staircase. This one didn't belong to a person, and he realised his temporary guardian angel couldn't buy him any more time. He was silent for a moment trying to ascertain the number of followers that were left. He could only make out two pairs of footsteps and breathed a small sigh of relief. Six or more was impossible, but two, especially with his new found tech, that was achievable. A new voice made its contribution to the eerie post-battle silence.

"Grak." It was softer than the original, almost encouraging, like someone speaking to a frightened puppy. "Grak, it's just me now. I-I don't want to harm you. I know you're after the light-warper and right now, I just want to help you find it. Any more death is meaningless."

The panther maintained his silence. If the other man wanted to help he wouldn't be sniffing the air and moving toward Grak's position. Grak had to act fast. From under his coat he drew a small knife. It was nothing compared to the Harsha tail that Shorrack wielded, but then again, it was made for butchery, not combat. He glanced at the mirror wondering how he was supposed to use it. There weren't any buttons on it nor did it seem to match up to the rumors he had heard. Blinding enemies? Turning invisible? It was all a pile of steaming horse balls. But as he saw his own reflection for the first time something clicked in the back of his mind and he felt the corners of his mouth quirk up. This thing was powerful indeed.

Shorrack had held Grak's scent for the last day and a half. He was a bloodhound and if the panther thought he could get away at this point, the foul-smelling feline had another thing coming. All feli-forms smelt bad to Shorrack, but something about Grak reeked, and he wasn't about to lose that kind of scent.

As Shorrack turned the corner into the room he saw Grack standing in the corner. The panther was wielding only a small knife and was trembling in fear. Finally the cunt realises what he's got coming. A sadistic grin spread across the dog's face as he moved towards the panther with blade in hand; a grin that disappeared split-seconds after Grak did as well. The feline that Shorrack had locked his eyes onto had stepped to his right and somehow faded into the ether. Shorrack didn't even have a chance to understand what was happening, let alone hear the panther's footsteps, before he felt the cold rusted steel of the butcher's knife run across his neck, and then everything faded to black.

Blood spurted from Shorrack's neck, painting the feline in a brilliant red hue. Grak picked up the Harsha tail blade and turned, finding himself face to face with the final treasure thief, a young doe who held a small metal bar in her hand. She trembled at the sight of her superior's blood sprayed all over her target's face and clothes. Two words were enough to break any remaining resolve she had left after seeing every member of her squad die before her eyes. The panther's eyes were filled with blood lust and a maniacal grin crossed his face.

"You're next"

As Grak heard her retreating, whimpering form leave the building he sighed and slumped into a heap. While his weapon trumped hers, he had a sneaking suspicion that had they fought neither would have made it home. His final gamble had succeeded and he crawled over to the tech that he had risked everything to find. As he saw his blood-stained reflection for the second time he could understand why the Doe had fallen for his ruse. He rocked back and forth, giddy with his find, for with the light warper he was no longer simply Grak the Seeker, he was Grak the first Illusionist.