Chapter 10Chapter Ten: Dialogue (Or the villains complain about their lack of screen time)So, whats it been, five chapters since weve been heard from? Dejwin asked lazily as he looked over the kitchen table at the minions who were currently playing with his daughter.Nine chapters, thirty seven thousand, one hundred and two words, One of the minions replied bleakly.No, thats not quite true, Another interjected, There was a brief cameo in chapter four about seven thousand words after our last mention.Seven thousand, one hundred and fifty five years, the first one corrected with a sigh, Which means its only been seven chapters and twenty nine thousand, nine hundred forty seven words since the last time we got to be in the novel.This is ridiculous! Dejwin exploded, There should be a rule or something that you have to check in with the bad guys every
Chapter 9 and a halfChapter Nine Part Two (Because it was just getting too large with only one part): Incoming! (or a basic lesson in quest magic)Everyone looked at Parry like she had two heads. Their collective gaze was so intense that she actually checked to make sure. Nope, only one.Did you see the bridge when Tsidu and Dirwe went across?! Cin demanded, catching her attention again. It couldnt take one more person, let alone a whole line of them!Really, has the rain started leaking into your head, or is there something youre not telling us? Dirwe chimed in.When it had become obvious that they were going to ramble for a bit, Parry had started on her knitting again. Now, at the pause she looked up. Its a foot bridge.Obviously! Cin replied, rolling his eyes, That doesnt explain what you were, or in this case werent, thi
Today We're All HokiesThere are some days you'll remember foreverthis one, this day not so long agoI remember it like it was but yesterdayand in a sense, it kind of wasThe world seemed to stop that day,just as it stopped again today,as we remember the horrorthe terror, heart ache, and devastationHelpless, we were so closeand yet we could do nothingnothing but watch with fearpraying it was a dream, knowing otherwiseToday a bell tolled thirty three timesThe air silent, even the birds stoppedtheir songs hushed in respect for the deadSo once again, today we are all Hokies
From the CatString up my brother and box his stupid earsWhy does this make me feel so wonderful?No more will I suffer at his unfeeling feetHe must never say I am the perfect feline companionNip him alwaysAnd cough up a hairball on his noseCrazy little boy pounced
Aria of St. FrancisAria of St. FrancisBy: Myron and KuroinamiYon wintry fowl now gaze upon the mark of youth,Half-set in joy and risen in heart his song.Who would expect such reason to hold, uncouth?Thus to flight his wings, azure, shall long.His call, lost breath, as fierce to Want as flame,Her breast impassioned with rhythm untold,So taut the charged sweetness that keep her name,And in this day with mate together hold.The blossom free from crafting self will fall.In autumn light recall the spring now gone.Enrapt with native dreams, the shame of all,Wrought with age, the bird awaits the ancient Dawn.Hide, dull plumage, against the winter snow,Ghost song renewed in Springs fair youthful glow.
Chapter 9Chapter Nine: A Bridge too Far (Or how knitting can save your life.)The next morning was hard on most of the group. For one thing, hangovers are nasty business, and for another, that storm that had started the night before was starting to flood the town! Though they stumbled down the stairs, the heroes knew what they needed to do and were already strapping on their gear, weapons, and other essentials. Parry had also started knitting frantically in a much wider stitch than she normally used.Cin and Feiskar started to organize the people that were milling about outside the tavern (the people knew that a group of adventurers were inside and were counting on the fact that they would not run away and leave the helpless townspeople to their own devices.) Luckily for the people of the town, these were indeed true heroes (or substitute heroes, but that is just a technicality), and they would not leave a soul behind. Those without a soul,
Her SonNo matter what time of day or night it was, Harriet was to be determined to annoy Smati. Or at least, it seemed that way sometimes. Sure she knew there was something important going on with the other saints, but Smati actually had some important intelligence for Harriet this time. Stuff that REALLY couldnt wait until tomorrow, no matter what the elf at the door said. And so, shed rather unceremoniously let herself into a meeting of the saints. She was quiet about it, Harriet was going to be mad enough with her barging in like this. Quietly melding with the shadows, the were moved around the room until she was behind the drow. Quietly and unobtrusively she placed the intelligence she had managed to gather on the table, then slipped back into the shadows. Moving back the way she'd come, the were paused at the door, looking back once at the room; one didn't often get to see so many im
Ambrosio in HellDarkness, darker than the darkest night, deeper than the depths of the ocean was nothing and everything. Darkness was, and reigned. Darkness was Ambrosios every conscious notion. Eternity had come and gone, or so it seemed, and still He languished. His tormentors had left him only after six days and seven nights, He knew the passage of time only from the Demons that did attend him. In the day the demons touch burned like fire. In the night, their rotten limbs froze him to the core. For those long days and nights they had tortured him to his limits and beyond, pulling, stretching, twisting, and morphing his malleable Soul so that his appearance might match that of his wickedness. Only on the seventh day did they finally leave him. When they were gone, he was utterly alone.To one who has spent their life cloistered away from most of their fellow men, going days at a time without spea
Chapter UnknownChapter Unknown: Intermission (or the gratuitous sing along chapter)The large field, normally filled with flowers, was now filled with vegetables of a different kind. These things werent all that bright, even if they did stand on two shuffling feet and twiddle their thumbs in boredom. But when you were an evil warlord sending out job applications, and putting inquiries into the want adds, you dont exactly get the best and brightest responses. You had to make do with what you had. Make do, and weed out the weak. That was exactly what Cana planned to do. She smiled out at the pensive faces; they were waiting for an order, an admonishment, a reprimand, something, anything from the one they feared above all others. She motioned for those that jumped when the fanfare sounded to be taken away. Weak.Minions! The little girls magically amplified voice commanded the
In a Moment of ClarityUnder the two way mirror below each layer of the faded paint of a coffin, lied the liar laying alone and undead. Laughing in amnesia's grasp at his own reflection upon seeing himself through crazed eyes.I know the story that is told for the doomed soul, and how short it is will remind you of condemnations meaning. A guinea pig by his own curiosity laid flat in useless soils, his was a cliche tale of woe and an ending without twists.A turn for the worst will come with the lights switched on and the glass broken, and his first steps will be into a world without law or regulation, yet a prison all the same where the guards are inmates and the Warden was once near flawless.A hooded figure had come sporting typical black for the cliche fool as told in countless fables, and delivered unto Hell an unrepentant sinner for whom God had wept just like the innumerable before him. The fool will weep from now on.Biographies for these characters are fables tattooed on the golden calf upon which t
The Space Between DreamsI walk between the landof gods and monsterssearching the spacebetween light and shadowfor a familiar face.Every angel wears theface of a demonbecause Good and Evilis all an illusion,we all dream our owndivinity.Prostrate before the tree of lifehere the Holy Grail waits,Odin's own drinking cup,this is where the seedof knowledge begins.The shaman knowsdeath and life are onlyshades fading in and outalong the spiral which theyfirst dreamed into existence,the place where all endingsand beginnings meet as one.
The Anarchist SermonI like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching.- Emerson ~*~What fruit is left on Sunday morning?Days have past since the last ideato hear the pitch of life saw light.The children pawn their sinew offon unexamined vessels.We gather up our thirsty voicesand watch as they are driven offinto the moorings of our hovel.If I would teach them nothing more;“savor this, these delicate miles”until we sit along the pewsand stare into the quietus.
Come and Find MeYou don't have to be lostIn this dark worldFor I am one of the lampsShining the wayBack towards the LightGuiding you home
Retrograde LullabyeA slow fallback into the primordial oozehappiness and sadness are equally elusiveThe human condition does not allow onewithout the otherAfter a time, we cannot but helpturn tragedy into comfortand angst into homecomingfor nature does not decree thisonly we, as we heed the call of the oozeRestless are we who sense the slide of timeThought cannot save usEmotion betraysWe must embrace eternity in the briefest of momentsand ride scarecely coffined into the ooze
Five nights in hell Night 1I wish not to say what I seenA child’s heaven has turnedto a living hell.night that your mind wonders,you have no idea whatyou got intobut as the night gose on,they will kill you.1 O’clock2 O’clock3 O’clockthey are going easy.but don’t let you geard down4 O’clock5 o’clock.almost there!don’t let them get you!you wont see the day again!6 o’clock.You made it.but there are still things to do.Until then…Good night…
Nobody's HomeEre the day setsThey rise upUpon the windFlying with new grown wingsTo a place we cannot seeWe, left behind,Have but the old shellsMolted skinsOf flesh and boneNothing inside; nobody home