Wordcount: 197
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Wordwar, Playing fair is always optional.

NOTE: This is a very rough draft with no editing at all (per National Novel Wiriting Month rules) and is presented for amusement value only. Think of it as a periscope into my writing process rather than a coherent story!

There will most likely be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, contradictions/retcons, uneven characterization and pacing. These snippits are also posted out of order, so please refer to the Outline to figure out where it’s supposed to fit.

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The First Law

Star Trek had rules about interference, but the folks who live in the city have none. The only rule that exists is don’t get caught, because keycards are few and far between and the chance of a rescue is so terrifyingly slim that there’s no hope once it’s gone.

They live and die by the little blue chips and they are much more careful about adventuring into new worlds than they might have been when the city was sane. So they take high tech with them and don’t hesitate to use it, if needed. They rarely stop long enough to help the locals, they’re more interested in supplies and survivors than they are in lending a helping hand.

There are worlds, however, that they go to more than once and that have learned to expect them and their random appearances. The odd bit is that no matter when they arrive it always seems to be at a good time. They never show up in the middle of tornadoes or city sieges, they don’t walk into the black death or a flood. So the city watches out for them somehow, and only opens the doors when it’s safe.