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April 20th, 2003, 10:25 PM
This is what I was working on to break my writers block. I never got far with it but I didn't intend to finish it any ways. I got a new idea that I want to explore and I just thought I'd post what I wrote here.

Newman was dueling. Samson watched his best friend draw his sword with fear, for the man he was facing had killed seven men before him. Newman had asked Courtan to be his wife and she had said yes without hesitation. They had been courting for nearly three years now and Samson had been wondering if they would ever wed one another. He supposed it made sense that they had taken so long however, both Newman and Courtan were the type to play around and take a long time with serious affairs and their life together was apparently handled as all other important issues. Now however Newman had finally done it and Hector had challenged him for Courtan’s hand in marriage. Hector had done this seven times before, a man would ask a woman to be his wife and out of the blue without any prior warning Hector would challenge the claim and demand a duel to dispute who would be the husband. Seven times he had done this and seven times he had won, not once however had he married the woman he fought over, he simply liked to kill.
Samson was tempted now as Hector, as big a man as any and as skilled a man as any drew his sword, to draw his own blade and simply stab Hector in the back. Yes, the very thought of his dear friend Newman dying because of this scum of a man was sickening and he found his hand falling to grip his weapon. Newman sensed this and shot a look at Samson that would halt the waking dead and send them back to sleep. The intent was obvious, Newman loved Courtan, and if he had to fight and kill or even die to have a chance at being with her then he would. Samson nodded grimly and crossed his arms, he prayed to Chanlan, begging the God that Newman would live and Courtan, beautiful and kind would not have to shed a tear over Samson’s friend.
A crowd had formed a ring around the two fighters as they began to circle each other their crudely made swords glinting in the bright light of the main gathering room of the ship. Samson looked at Courtan, her pretty face was now glowing with sheer terror, she knew Newman’s chances at victory were slim at best.
“I will see that your girl is made a woman properly.” Hector said, tauntingly. Samson looked at Hector with disgust, how could Chanlan allow such a person to live?
“Soon enough you shall be a woman yourself.” Newman replied almost like a reflex, he lowered his blade and motioned it across his groin to speak the obvious message. Laughter arose from the crowd gathered around them despite the seriousness of the occasion. Samson chuckled as well, forgetting for a moment the inevitability of Newman’s fate.
Hector did not handle Newman’s words as well as Newman had handled Hector’s and with an angry growl he charged forward giving a mighty swing that Newman parried almost effortlessly. Well, it seemed effortlessly at first but as Newman backed off Samson could see his body shaking from the strength of the blow. Newman was not strong enough to win and Hector knew this, he could see it as well as Samson as well as anybody here.
“So strong, so mighty, Newman I believe you may overpower me!” Hector laughed. There was no laughter at this cruel sentence. Again Samson felt the urge to break forward and save his friend, but he knew that Newman would never forgive him and Jasper may decide it to be a crime.
“You will not win this fight bastard!” Newman replied, “As long as a breath runs through the lungs I will not allow you to win!” And with that Newman burst forward ducking under Hector’s blade and slashing his opponent across the chest. A cheer went up as Hector’s blood splashed across the floor, the massive man cried it in pain and anger and quickly brought his own blade down cutting deeply into Newman’s shoulder. Newman screamed in agony and fell to the floor; Courtan screamed his name and began to run forward. Samson acted quickly and stopped her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. She screamed at him, hit him, begged him to let her go, to let her go stop this but Samson held fast, Hector was mad with rage he may very well kill her in his fury and even if he didn’t she may be punished for her lack of discretion.
Hector took a step forward and raised his sword above his head, Newman is watched from the floor his body pulsating with each heavy breath he took, his blood was seeping out of him now and soon enough it would all spill. Hector began to bring his sword down when the most unexpected thing happened. The power in the room died and the lights went out leaving them in blackness. Hector must have halted his assault because Newman didn’t scream out. A moment passed, everyone was silent, the sound of Newman’s step filled the air then in a single instant a low painful scream echoed and it was over. Hector was dead.

The lights scared Samson. They had gone out because the generators were overstrained and they were overstrained because of the room they had opened and repaired by order of Jasper a month ago. Samson would never forget that room, the air smelling of things his nostrils had never tasted before. The room was beyond the size of any other room he had seen in his life and the walls were covered in the symbols that only Jasper being the Voice of Chanlan could understand. But it was not those things, though memorable that had imprinted the room into the corridors of his mind, but rather the statues.
They were like giant men dressed in armor of such metal, as he had never seen before, there were a hundred all identical, each facing the wall with a stairway and ledge at the chest level of each statue. They were awe-inspiring and even the always composed and calm Jasper; Voice of Chanlan was filled with amazement when he laid his eyes upon them. Jasper had ordered the holy room repaired to its fullest and powered completely every hour of every day. The repairs had been short, everything was in incredibly good repair for a room that had been sealed by Chanlan’s supreme will for centuries, it was the powering that cost them. The power generators could only produce so much and they never used them to there fullest so there would always be a surplus if something went wrong or too much was used by accident. The room being so massive required more power than the generators could ever produce alone and since it was a holy place they had no choice but to power it or risk Chanlan turning them over to the great destroyers of the blackness outside the ship. But surely Chanlan didn’t want them to die from the terrible consequences of no power. Surely he didn’t want them to freeze and suffocate and starve to death?
Someone knocked on his door, the hollow sound of the rapping against the metal echoing through his small room. Samson stood up from his seat on the floor,
“Come in.” He said. The door slid open and Newman entered. His arm was in a sling on the side where Hector had cut his shoulder; it would keep him from doing any really useful work until it healed. That aside Samson was pleased to see his friend alive and he grinned happily. Newman however did not grin, he walked into Samson’s room and looked at the light on the ceiling, Samson had left it off like most of the people did; there was no reason to have it on unless the light was needed to do something important. The thought of power brought back the fears Samson had been exploring a moment earlier, it was obvious Newman shared them.
“How long do you think we’ll have until they go out for good?” Newman asked. Samson shrugged.
“It took less than a week for them to go out temporarily, the reserve power is being eaten up too quickly, and we don’t have very much time as far as I can predict.” Samson replied.