FRAGMENTO “LANGSDORFF AND THE PIRATES”
“Hmmm…” mused Captain Langsdorff, leaning against the periscope “… I wish so much…”
Lt. Commander Lee Mink, his First Officer and one of his best friends, flipped a switch on his board to check position relative to the other units combing the stretch of sea where the assassin pirate submarine was hiding: “What’s up, Captain?”
“Just thinking a bit too loud, Lee;” Langsdorff felt old, tired. What has transpired in the last hours had drained him to the core “here we are, pledged to save and, instead, wishing to dest
Raffle Entry - Speed versus speed by springheel, literature
Literature
Raffle Entry - Speed versus speed
RAFFLE ENTRY
SPEED VERSUS SPEED
Night was dying when Captain Za’aharr, the Cassowary rider, decided that he and his Stryx deserved a day of sleep; raising a little silver whistle to his beak, he thrilled softly a three-note signal.
Instantly, a huge silhouette detached itself from the star-studded cloak of darkness, landing before him with a noisy flap of enormous wings. Her hazel eyes gazed her rider with undying affection. Za’aharr scratched her chin, patting her forehead “I guess it’s enough fun for a night, my dear Nankai: now let’s stretch our legs and walk back home”
It was always a welcome sight
PATRICK'S CAMPING NIGHTMARE
It had been a demanding week the last one, o yes. Even for somebody as athletic and dynamic as Patrick the gryphon, rarely the arrival of a weekend had been so welcomed: between concerts, classes, official parties and study, the poor guy was on his last legs.
Patrick was a sort of rarity among gryphons. Not warrior, magician or scholar, he had found his place and destiny being an accomplished musician and dancer: he belonged to that particular, almost unknown kind of gryphons that cut the mold their own way, as his friend Mismatch – a lousy warrior but a peerless painter – had amply proved (the most s
Wild West, Capital City... Bonarum by springheel, literature
Literature
Wild West, Capital City... Bonarum
WILD WEST, CAPITOL CITY… BONARUM
“Amanda; Hey, Amanda!” the voice sounded pleasantly away, competing in vain with the log-like slumber of the tired hamster-warrior, at home at last after a long and difficult adventure: this time Amanda had been on the verge of drowning on a subterranean river, thrown from a cliff and nearly tore in half by a crazy would-be assassin.
“Thank you, Daddy Coon” smiled she, strolling by the fields with the raccoon captain that always referred her as his ‘daughter’ and once had vowed he’d quit a life of distinguished service in the army of Procionya if that meant to