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
three days off - to read Steinbeckthree days off - to read SteinbeckDay 1.and the rain thrashed at the black crows in the morning.I could see themfluttering and mocking - amongst the grey mistout my back windowand after that - after the rain stoppedI saw the crows had driedand all at once the world stopped turning.And then things changed and slowedfurther stilland then started again like a lurching green cog,deep inside the natural worldagainstno-ones will -and after all that,after all the slownesssome brand new silence entered the worldDay 2.dust had gathered on sills and tablesand the flecks and paths ofsome unseen, unknown living thinghad left tracks and pathsand maps on the grains of wood.I felt at once a presence unknown to me - in the house -like a ghost of one missed generation - watchingacross gaps in flaky door framesthrough internal windowsand down dark stairwellsI spent cups of time ponderingthe new soul and things that reminded meof the scents and textures
Fairytale of the ChoirThere is a special place,Outside of the broadest wasteland,Sought through the cylinderof an old revolver.Have you heard the choirs of the dunes,And how their praise echoes off of shifting slopes,molded by merciless winds?Have you felt the thunder of those hauntings?How chilling the thought that Ihave only heard these things,in where I am disoriented by my thirstsand my revolver is closed-minded.This place is strange.I've known it only in the back of my mind,Through a peculiar hell of idea,Whispered like a bedtime story.
LoveThe world need to learn how to loveThe world needs to learn to loveBecause love is so scarceYou see homeless in the streetsYou see children being beatYou see people aloneAnd even more bullyingThe world needs to learn to loveBecause it's scaring love awayLove is such a powerful entityYet it falls so quicklyYou build up it's strengthAnd like jenga bring it downThe world needs to learn how to loveBecause no one deserves to be lovelessNot even the meanest of the meanestBecause deep down they don't feel loved by somethingSo,To love, you need to open your arms wideSmile a smile like no otherSing with such joy the birds stop to listenWelcome everyone with warmth to challenge the sunAnd say 'hi.'Because 'hi.' Is a starting wordStarting love wordsHi, leads onto 'hello'Hello leads onto 'how are you?'And so on and so onUntil, they crack.And like an icy river they burst their banksAnd you warm up the waterWith love.
Dangerously BeautifulThey take off,like butterflies,in the sky.Little creatures,with innocent notions,like the shades of the ocean,or the smell of love potions.Breathtakingly beautiful.
lin(e)ar commsthe line stretched taunt between the cansheld in our respective handshello can you hear me well canyou I asked you between landswith eyes for ears you know eye canat least well enough for weaving strandsand so we continue to fanthe flames of cosmos fire bandsmind's third eye epiphany brandswith thoughts ego can't withstand
Static on the TelevisionThere is a calmnessin ceiling fans, every whisperedsound emitted, two in the morning,never needs to be acknowledged,never seeks attention the waya television might, or an hourglass.Only a child knowsthe importance of listening ––the way his mother never will.To lay awake and not watchBut feel the changeas a dandelion does in wind.
Lucid 'Exquisite polychromatic colors flash before my wide optics...''Spellbinding figures...it almost seems as if they are scintillating...a disoriented enigma...''Those holograms of coruscating dust laze about in a sea of an atramentous atmosphere.''Gazing at a plethora of surreal cosmic iridescence seem to play a reflection in my passionate orbs...''Like Northern Lights, they illuminate the deep night into eternal serenity...''How can something so vivid, be so immeasurably distant?''For the remainder of my time, I lay here, in the glimmering dew-coated grass, staring up at the perpetual obscurity in pure wonder...''Eyes locked now, I gradually dream of touching those distant specs that just seem to say "Hey!, I'm here! Look at me! aren't I bright?"''With my corrupt soul in tact, I'm soaring. Feeling fa
One Way TrackDeath is but a train rideWe are all born with a ticketEach of us, either hustle and bustleOr casually walk to our platformAnd wait for the trainSometimes it seems to arrive quite lateLeaving us the last passenger to boardSometimes it seems to arrive earlyLeaving many people we’ve known behindSome throw themselves on the tracksToo impatient, too much in pain for the wait to leaveOther’s have to be dragged on boardKicking and screaming that it’s far too soonNo matter your composure, we all are thereWhether conscious of it or notThe schedule on our tickets isn’t always trueBecause the conductor has the power of the trainNo matter how short or how long your lifeNo matter how much joy or griefThe conductor is always right on time
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