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
I would have you do thisHere.this is your prayeryour mantra, your news.I leave it as I found it, papering in the streets.as godless a truth as you will knowit’s still a ghost of a dreamsmaller than theories of infinite resolution. you will believe it because it has no industryno acolytes or storefronts.it’s not an embezzlement of fascinationor confabulation of missing histories.you will not doubt its truth because your design is hollow the space inside your car the adventitious spine that vials through the weeds the ice of march on adam’s needle the ants, crickets, beetles under sandstone waiting in a music box for the catalysts to wake and split them out into the breen.you will speak of your awarenesswithout knowing what inhabits it like a colour that doesn't hum or passing through a future forest of apparitions in bald park meadows a
The DuraninThe Battle Poem of the DuraninWhen shadow comes to claim our souls,Some must rise - the light of old.Names in stone, spirits of legend.Deeds unknown, yet never forgotten.These are the Duranin!Of honor within and of fear without.Remember them, when in hope you doubt.
The Instinct of CellsThe Instinct of Cellsbeauty softens each of uslike an egg soaking in vinegar,but I have always been soft,soft as baby fuzz,a flabby soulstuffed into my skinlike sausage meat inside a hog casing.I have no idea what its liketo have to kill,to jump out of an airplane,to learn I have cancer.I spray lavender-vanilla mist on my pillowto help myselfsleep.the hardest thing in my lifewas when my dad died. they tattooedlittle dots on his headto help them aim their rays. his hairstarted to fall out. luckily,he didnt have much to lose.I correspond over the Internetwith a young womanin England. she takes shapeas if from memoryout of digitized snapshotsand sound bitesand emoticonsand words. her long hair once shimmeredunder a fadingsun. she writes softpoetry and reads it into her computer.her breath whispersin the microphonelike the sound of television snow.I remember the look on my dads faceas he hung up the phoneand told
Will You SayGod, give me graceTo run life's cruel race.Lord, give me wisdom,So when I enter your kingdom,You will say "Well done."Jesus, give me a servant's heart,So I may do my partIn your will. And when I'm done,When my race is run,Will you say "Well done?"
Poeme La vallee aux oiseauxPoème : La vallée aux oiseauxLa journée commence avec toi ami,Quand la rosée s'évanouie à peine.Je pars te rejoindre dans ce chemin infiniQui mène mon âme, à toi la veine.Compagnon d'un passé oublié,Tu voles entre deux mondes
Tu sais que je me suis écraséeEchue dans cette matière ronde.Parfois je rêve de la forêt aux oiseauxD'où nous sommes tous issus,Et d'où tu m'observe à loisir d'en haut,Comme ça te chante, de visu.Tes couleurs irisées éclatantesDoivent être très belles, chatoyantes !Ta volée majestueuse épatante !Si mes yeux pouvaient t'observer, l'attente !De revenir te voir un jour,Quand à ton tour tu partiras,De la forêt aux oiseaux d'amour,Que je puisse aussi veiller sur toi,Quand ce sera ton tour,Mon plus beau chant sera pour toi !Pour t'encourager ami,Que la vie ce n'est pas que ça,Mais une autre fa
I am an owlI am an owlin a silent, lonely worldand my face is affablewith flattened beakand giant eyesand tufts of feathers and fur...they say that i am wisebehind my comic countenanceand indeed there is a settingin my shoulders and my wingsthat speaks of elegance and poiseand a strange dark mystery...none can know my thoughtsfor i fly only aloneand when i speak i talk to myselfand my voice is sad and lowspeaking of all the tragedythere is in the world...Though at night i am strongand i catch prey with easeand terrify the shades themselvesand enjoy the brilliant moonwhen i wake the crows plague methey circle me and cryaccusing me of all the deathsall the meals i'd takenand i just cower there and cryall my courage gone in the lightof the sun where all can see me...but always i endureand wait patiently for nightwhen i can spread my wings againand feel elation at the wind and think"so this is what the poets speak ofso this is what the humans cravethis is the thing
Daydreaming...Here I am wonderingDid I born in right time?Should I have born another timeWould it have make things different.I do not knowIf I even belong to this universeIs this my space & time?Sometimes I feel I am alien in this universeTrying find my way to homeWhich waits me million miles away.All that greed in this timeIt is so not meMy biggest wish in this worldIs that people would understand value of compassionI know I am daydreamingI know it will never happenLeast not in this timeBut I am allowed to dream of better tomorrowWhere all we live as one.So I keep hopelessly waitingIf someone would take me to homeEven though I know no one isn't comingI stare at every shooting starHoping it is the one what will bring me home.And while I waitI will keep on fightingIn order to make this worldLittle bit better place to liveAll that suffering is overwhelmingAnd we are closing our eyesGreed and machinery has barricaded world with hate.So I shall continue my struggleTo tell
Le Temps du Non TempsLe temps du non temps.Nous nous perdons au labyrinthe de nos têtesOu nous sommes dans l'espace et le temps sans fin.Nous, les humains, sommes faits de déchets stellairesDes soleils anciens morts pour nous donner la vie.Au cur du grand bois en un immense trou noir,L'il d'un néant qui nous effraie et nous attireNous a piégés en sa toile gluante et terneD'un milliard et plus de constellations brillantes.Et lui-même englué dans la matière noire,Le néant s'éparpille com' dans un abîme.Quel est le fil à travers toutes ces étoilesQui spiralent l'être et le non-être du temps?Les frontières de l'univers, en ces débuts,Qui pointent leur énergie, en un doigt de Dieu,En cet immense quasar pulsant fabuleuxEn ce point final de la phase d'exister.Pourquoi créer tant de matière pour si peu?Qu'avons-nous besoin de ces amas écumantTant d'énergie pour dé
Finalmente entendi- Tenho dificuldades em viver no mundo real;- Vago por ai observando;- Apenas algumas pessoas especiais conseguem manter contato comigo e, quando conseguem, somente por um breve período de tempo;- São poucas as minhas intervenções efetivas neste planeta;Percebendo isso, fiquei assombrado!Sou na realidade um fantasma.
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