Here’s something new I thought I’d try. It’s another blog where I’m going to try telling a story completely with poems, so feel free to come check it out. Here.
“Lex!” Seven screamed. He was drowned out by the patrons’ screams as they tried to scatter. More heavily armed soldiers flooded in from every possible entrance. From what he could see, a red hatchet marked their left breasts. His eyes widened. He knew that symbol. He knew it too well. His breath came in shallow bursts as he looked frantically around for an escape route. The dark recesses of backstage beckoned him. He launched himself in that direction, only to find himself once more on the floor.
People screamed all around as he struggled up, finally noticing that his neck chain had been attached to a solid ring on the floor at some unknown time. He yanked at it, but it did nothing. He jerked as the first shots of gunfire rang out. He looked up and noticed the soldiers shooting wildly and several patrons falling into puddles of blood.
A bullet whizzed by Seven’s head, and he heard a grunt behind him. The oily, not-so-meek man who had brought him on stage crumpled with a gurgle, blood pouring from a bullet hole piercing right through his neck.
The well-dressed man on the stage barely took any notice of this. He was instead yelling incoherently at the top of his lungs as he waved with wide, angry motions at the men pouring out from the bowls of the auction house. Those men, while not as heavily armored, looked much more murderous than the invading soldiers. The chaos only deepened when they jumped into the fray while the well-dressed man disappeared off stage.
Bullets fired, people scrambled out of the way, and the chandelier broke. It fell like a boulder, slamming heavily into the gilded seating, skewering both armed and unarmed alike under its hulking weight. It brought about a brief lull in the fight, only seconds worth, but it was enough for Lex to make it to the stage with Rowan right behind him, providing cover. (more…)
Luyo lxats’ben won diri so Ikwir. While not as dangerous as the Rhew in terms of the environment’s ability to kill, I assure you, the Ikwir is no less deadly. The cold doesn’t dampen hunger there, and no one seems to know why the things in the north grow so big. I did try traveling through the place to see if I could discover the original city of Automaton. You know, Dig and I found on our Yat’al’ that we can hold our own in a fight against almost everything we come across, at least long enough to run away, which is more than most can say. But the wolves there… I’m not to keen on ever meeting them again. That was too close a call, huh, Dig? I wouldn’t want to run into a Fenrir there.
— A Yat at his ariyaqori festival
|[Ambient Aura VIII] –> [Ambient Aura IX]: You’re ability to use auras has almost reached its highest level. You are beginning to realize the truth of auras. Partings do not last forever. Every soul is connected. (Due to the strength of your longing, due to your pain and your loss, you have found a way to connect to the River of Souls using your combined auras to form |Aura of Rebirth|)|
This… What is this? No, I’m serious. What is this? I can feel it. My hands are starting to tremble. Is this…? Can I really? Is this what I think it is? Will I be able to…?
I take a deep breath and hold it, letting my mind go blank. I sit like that for several seconds, then I let it all out in a massive puff of air. Alright. Let’s try. It can’t hurt, can it? I trigger |aura of rebirth|.
I jolt as the world suddenly goes black.
No, not black. It’s more like I’ve been cut off from the outside world and completely confined within my core. I can’t see anything, but instinctively I know not to panic. It feels different from the time I spent all my mana. That was an overwhelming, suffocating darkness where I couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything. While I can’t see or hear anything, this time I feel… a flow. A current. It moves and swirls around me in a similar way that mana does, only more subtle. If mana was a river, this would be a breath of wind, constantly moving in swirling eddies around me almost like it wasn’t there in the first place.
I reach out and touch an eddy next to me with a tendril of thought. It dodges my tendril and swirls a bit away and then closer again, brushing up slightly against my core before racing out again. I laugh a little. It feels strange, alive, maybe even a bit mischievous. I chase after it with my tendril. It swirls in loops, always dodging my tendril by just a hair. I laugh again.
Then, the eddy stops. I slow my tendril in confusion. I feel it turn and swirl in spot once before slipping next to my tendril. It reaches out and takes a hold of my tendril like it was grabbing my hand, then launches off towards the sky. It moves so fast that my tendril stretches and thins to the point of snapping. I know it. I know it to the bottom of my core that that’s bad. It’s a very, very bad idea to let it break. I can’t let that happen. (more…)
Farewell, I bid you
Again, like once in a
Ever so long ago.
This nostalgic scene
Happened by coincidence,
Either that or by fate’s
Ernest, heartfelt wishes.
Wring not you hands, and
End all your worries.
Let us meet anew in
Lands we’ve yet explored.
— Severa of the Adlet; A Song of Parting
Screaming out my lungs really clears the cobwebs in my head. I take a deep breath and slap my cheeks, then step back to take a look at Dial, my new sentinel. Honestly, it’s not my best job, all hard lines and no grace, but at this point, I don’t care. If a strange, massive, armored thing works, it works. Still, he almost reminds me of that type of monkey…an…an ape, except with a tail. A very angry ape thing… But his fierce face fills me with confidence, like I finally have something I can rely on, which is surprisingly hard to come by in this world.
Well, enough of that. I’d better look through my screens since I’ve put them off long enough. With all the commotion and crazy stuff happening, I just haven’t had the time or the mood to actually look through them. In retrospect, that might not have been the best idea…
I shake my head as they all flicker into view at once, and I’m reminded why I didn’t want to do this. It’s a wall of text several screens thick. Ug… not to mention, they’re all jumbled together. I’m not even sure what order they’ve popped up now. It’s been a whole month, after all. Let’s see… I wonder if the contents will clump together if I…There! (more…)
Hm? What is this? A lizard? There’s something weird about it. It looks funny. Why are its eyes yellow? Is it… It’s crying! But a lizard crying? What in the world is going on? There must be something wrong with it. Wait a second. Let me get a bit closer. Is that… is that blood? Ug. What’s that smell? It’s horrid. Urg. I feel sick. No, stay back there. Don’t come down here, Dmetr. Something’s weird. I don’t like it. We need to get out of here.
— Ban, at Fare Caolan
War. It’s been coming steadily. I can feel it as I gaze at the at the setting sun. Something far to the south is building strength. But then, so will I. I’m no longer hesitating. I decided that needed to get as big as I could as soon as possible. And by big, I meant my forces. I needed more people at my back. The only way to do that is to expand, open more rifts to strange places no matter the danger involved.
War is coming. Of that, I have no doubt. There have been little signs. The gwisin was the first real sign, like the first snow of winter coming much too early. He wasn’t the last. This month has been war, only it was just the beginning of something that is frightening.
It’s not just the things I consider little now, like the increasingly frequent eira attacks. Two days ago alone, there were four separate waves that invaded my territory. They had been attacking consistently as far back as when Namena appeared, only they would get lost and subsequently most often fall in the lava pits. I hardly noticed them until one of them managed to break through almost all the way to Harbor. They’ve been learning. If only it had just that.
I look down. My hand trembles. Too often. Too often I’ve taken lives now. A disaster. I clench my fist. It wasn’t just the eira that I pierce through with projectiles. It was the lives of those things, and of my own.
The first came through shortly after I planted my next dimensional ice tree, not long after Namena left–the first step of gathering more under my cause. It was little. A small, almost fox-like thing with sandy fur and large, bat like ears. I only had a glimpse at it as it entered before it launched itself at my face. A projectile later, it was writhing on the ground with a hole through its lungs. It was then I got a good glimpse at it. It was frothing at the mouth, bleeding from its eyes and ears and nose. A strange smell wafted up from its flesh. It was sweet, like roasted almonds, but sickening so with hints of rotting plum. I gagged. Even my sliver fish wouldn’t get near it, and they’re carrion eaters. I cremated it in lava and cut off the connection to that ice tree. It swiftly withered.
Vermis Harenae, the common sandworm, most often found in the deserts of Suon Kiin. Legends often characterize sandworms as massive worms bent solely on eating man (or caravan). There has only been one known case where a sandworm has ever attacked a caravan. This was due to several reasons including a severe drought, being driven out of its own territory, and idiotic provocation on part of the caravan. Rather than caravans, the main diet of sandworms are rocs from the Milana Mountains, which come down to eat cicada foxes of the desert. Sandworms and cicada foxes have a unique, symbiotic relationship. Cicada foxes have a distinctive call they sound when attacked by rocs. It vibrates at a distinct frequency allowing it to penetrate deep into the sand. Sandworms will pick up that sound and come to eat the rocs, often rescuing the cicada foxes in the process. Sandworms themselves are solitary creatures. It is rare to see more than one at once except for annual mating migration, a three-month long process which redefines their territories. As such, sandworms do not raise their own young, leaving them out in the desert soon after birth. Cicada foxes will often take it upon themselves to raise the sandworm larvae (often called cicadas) to adulthood.
– Compendium of Monsters, 778
South Pass? That mean big wall? We take long to walk across much grass to it. It big, strange. Long wall packed hard sand. Tall as Home tree. Wide as many, many Home tree. Air dry. Not like. Make scales rough and thirsty. Group walk up to wall. Something make ring sound from inside wall.
“Who goes?” Man at top of wall shout.
“Members of the King’s Guard of Seven Cities,” Shiny say. Small door opens in big, big gate in side of wall. One. Two shiny men rush out and push group inside.
“Better hurry,” one man say. “Storm’s coming. Nothing good happens if you’re outside when it hits. We’ll check your documents inside.”
Group walk inside wall. More shiny men inside. Too many shiny men now. Can’t tell apart! How will I know my shiny men from new shiny men? Fish Tail! Help! Too much shiny. Make I dizzy! I slip from Fish Tail head, but he catch so I alright.
“Hey, what’s wrong, little guy? Excuse me, could I ask for a cup of water?” Fish Tail ask.
“What is that?” Big shiny man say. More shiny men follow him. He wave man to poor water into weird bowl and hand to Fish Tail.
“I believe it is an evolved sliver fish.” Fish Tail slide I into bowl. Water feel nice. Skin much to dry, but it soak water now. I feel better. Thanks, Fish Tail.
“A sliver fish? This far south?” Big Man say. He lead group down hall and to door.
“Yes. Strange things do happen from time to time.” Big Man laugh.
“Here, you can have your men rest here. If the leader of this group would follow me. Yen, you too.” Much of group go into room. We not follow them? No, look like Fish Tail and old friend Shiny follow Big Shiny Man into different room.
Yeo’ena Bay. Locals call it Lost Bay. Area wise, the bay is small, yet somehow, every year people manage to get lost wading through swamp and the cypress trees. As of yet, the death rate is rather low, unlike many other ominous places people have managed to find themselves lost in. The bay only claims those of low health, most others find themselves wandering around for a few days, perhaps weeks, before finally finding their way out again. Not many monsters live in the bay. The ones that do are hardly a threat to an armed traveler. Because of this reason, many choose it as a tourist destination. Great interest is placed on unraveling the bay’s mysteries. That said, be wary out those running from the law. Many seek refuge in this mysterious swamp.
— Ashton Delan’s Travelor’s Guide
“Ouch! Really, stop biting me! You can stop now. I’m trying, so be patient. Timp! Come scare these stupid things off of me!” I call as snowdrop dragons swarm over me. I’m trying to concentrate on making a snowdrop plant, but they keep messing me up.
I figure the plant is in their name, so maybe they’d like them better than the roses. Though, they do seem to like the roses, or more specifically, the rose hips that have started growing. That, I don’t like so much. They eat the rose hips, but spit the seeds at everything, including me.
“Will you stop it! I don’t need more seeds in my hair! Ow stop! Will you listen to me?! Timp! Help!” I swat at the pesky dragons buzzing around my head, little seeds hit me like bullets. I had asked Oroesi for help earlier. He’s hiding from them now because of it. He tried. He really tried. Only it wasn’t long before they were chasing him around hitting him with seeds. He was bawling his eyes out when I finally managed to get them away from him. Timp on the other hand, enjoys chasing the white dragons. She’s not so easily intimidated by them. Only, she has such a short attention span that she forgets she’s supposed to keep them off me, so I have to keep calling her.
The banana palms seem to sway in amusement at my predicament. Ever since [green thumb] leveled, all my plants feel more alive. I swear they’re laughing at me right now. I glare up at the trees as Timp launches herself at the dragons. The little things shriek as they scatter. Sighing, I turn back to the pebble in my hands. After a minute or so, I finally have it. The pebble gives a little pop as my aura grasps onto my image, and I have a snowdrop bulb.
I make more and scatter them throughout the valleys along with a blanket of concentrated |aura of warmth| to get them started. Almost immediately they start popping out of the ground like daisies–er… snowdrops. They’re cute. I finger the pale glass-like flower. Reminds me of little white tears. The dragons launch themselves at the flowers. Timp trails after them, occasionally nuzzling the new snowdrops.
Watching them, I chuckle a little. The dragons use the snowdrops to make strange little nests, weaving the flower’s leaves into domes. You almost can’t see the nests unless you look for them.
I smile. Well, they’re out of my hair now, so now I can concentrate on more important things. Namely, my paths, but more importantly, the disconcerting state of my health, which hasn’t regenerated at all since the stupid gwisin came. And there’s a little thought which has been bugging me that I want to try out, even though it may be dangerous… (more…)
Is it feasible that this journey through life isn’t the struggle we thought it to be? Could it be that we aren’t doomed to a death with nothing lingering beyond? Is there something in this world to strive for? What is it that lies beyond the veils of death? Is there hope and is there any worth in hoping? I do not wish to die. More than that, I do not wish to die alone. If I must die, let it be surrounded by those I love. Let it be sweet. Let it be peaceful. Finally, let there be meaning to my life, so that I may find sanctuary and solace in death.
— The Poet of Vera
I sent them back, the two idiots. I don’t even know why they’ve been helping me. Sooner or later, they’re going to end up dead if they stick around me. So, I’ve kicked them out of my dungeon until further notice. At least until I know I’m better prepared. It’ll most likely be another month-long project, maybe two, but it will be worth it.
More importantly, with them around I just can’t think! It’s so annoying! Once he finally woke up, Nattiq started follow me around everywhere saying that he won’t let me out of his sight or something. He’ll be the one to protect me. Right, Nattiq, like that’ll work with one arm. To think I was worried about his mental state when he woke up. He’s more like a love-sick puppy. Ug! Why are you in such high spirits? What is but a flesh wound? Ha. You’re crazy.
Ah’m is no better. He’s being sour. Won’t talk, just gives stupid grunts. What are you? A hormonal teenager? You stupid whale dog. Just get over it. You’re being worse than I am. Get out of the house, go do something. Quit being so depressed. That’s supposed to be my job and you’re stealing it. And weren’t you making fun of Nattiq earlier for being so depressed? You’re just a hypocrite now. What are you even so depressed about anyway?
In a way, the way they’re acting helps. I’m so exasperated with them I’m in no mood to beat myself up over what’s already happened. I can only work on improving myself. So, to give me peace of mind while I work on renovating my dungeon–again–I kick them out. Leave. Go to your seal village or whatever. Don’t stick around here. You were fine without me your whole lives,
So, out. Out out out. I’m done with you now. Come back when your mood’s improved or something. Or conquered the world. Or your level reaches 900.
Scratch that. Apparently that’s not feasible. Highest known level recorded according to the System is 234, and that was a long, long time ago. Most don’t even get past 30 their whole lives. Some kind of level cap. Reaching 40 makes you an elite, and 50, well, let’s just say you’re basically a one in a million. How disappointing.
Nattiq’s doing pretty well for himself. He’s level 15 at only 15 years old. Almost a genius. It’s funny. I thought he was much older, but the more I get to know him, the more childish he becomes. More his age, I guess. But still, he’s got one of those older looking faces…
Sandstorm approaching. High winds to the south-west headed northward. According to weather ward, not an occurance based on natural weather patterns. Will hit South Pass at the seventh bell. All personnel advised to take cover and await orders. Watch tower is to keep eyes on storm. Watch for unusual changes. Code yellow with chance of changing to code red. High chance of source of storm being a sandworm migration. Activate battlements as preparation. Attack will commence on Wall Commander’s order. Again. Sandstorm approaching. All personnel are advised to take cover and await orders.
— Warning bell at South Pass
Where? I wake. It hard wake up. Head hurt much.
Thought. It warm. Much warm. Not good. Warm mean not cold. Not cold mean not by Home? Where Home? Where I? Scared. No. Need calm. Think.
I help fight. I fight with brothers. Keep Home safe from Bad.
Sharp. Slice through brothers. Falling. Brothers falling. Cold hand. Much same as grasping currents. I caught much like in net. Black? No more think. End of think. Where now?
I in black. Black hurt. Rub wrong. Tight. I wiggle. I wiggle out. Much light. Cold hand grasp I. I startle. Different from before cold hand. Cold hand solid now. Cold hand scary. Where Home?
“This?” voice say.
“Different. It looks different from the others.” Cold hand flip me on back.
“It has wings.”
“Yes. Where did it come from?”
“Ghosts. It’s shiny. More like a rainbow than others. Ghosts like trinkets like that. Probably picked it up and wanted to show you.” I shake. Scary.
“Oh? This belongs to the core?”
“You going to eat it?”
“Hm…” Cold hand flip me again. I see. It Bad Man that hurt Home. Bad Bad. No hurt Home. (more…)
After the War of 812…the slavers came. The aftermath that occurred was worse, so much worse than the war itself. After our warriors left to fight on the plains to the east, we were trapped in our own city, no where to run, with the oceans to our back and the enemy surrounding us… The plains were a trap. We could see the fires burning from our walls, hear the screams of our men drifting on the breeze. We knew the war was lost. So, we surrendered, let down the gates. Some chose death instead, leaping to their death in the frigid waters of the ocean below. The rest, we had to watch our home burn as we traveled in chains to the iron mine.
I scream, brimming with a seething fiery rage as I slam my fist into my punching bag.
“Idiot! You’re such a stupid idiot!” I bellow at myself, trying to avoid looking at any of it–the aftermath. If I do, I’ll wallow in self-pity, and I am not doing that again. So I bottle up my anger and let its scalding heat flow through me, drowning out the need to fall into utter despair. I slam my fist again.
It had been utter disaster. Everything had been ruined. All but two of my ice golems were gone. The maze was wrecked. The wards had been completely ignored, like he didn’t even notice them. The tree had massive gashes tearing open the sides of its trunk, looking like the tree had leprosy or something. Most of its branches snapped and tumbled down into the lake. Not a room inside remained stable. It threatened to make the whole tree split and keel over. I had shored it up the best I could, but I was in no mood to do anything more. Basically, everything I had made was trashed by one single man. It didn’t console me at all that the underwater roots had been mostly untouched.
While all this had been devastating, it wasn’t the worst. No, the part that had me almost in a blubbering pile was all the pain. The pain of losing more than half of my fish. Losing the golems had hurt, but not nearly as much. The first fish down in the maze…I don’t know how it had gotten down there. It wasn’t supposed to be there. The monster had eaten him. And killed the others.
My lip quivers. To distract myself, I slam my fist again.
Ah’m was hurt. Again. He hadn’t even fully recovered from the hole in his stomach. Now he has long, red raw patches where the skin and muscle were peeled from his side. He was still awake at least. Grumbling, but awake. Nattiq had slipped into a coma or something. He had lost a whole arm. It had been my fault. All my fault.
I punch hard, gritting my teeth.