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Chapter 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 half
Chapter 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 Hokies
There are some days you'll remember forever
this one, this day not so long ago
I remember it like it was but yesterday
and in a sense, it kind of was
The world seemed to stop that day,
just as it stopped again today,
as we remember the horror
the terror, heart ache, and devastation
Helpless, we were so close
and yet we could do nothing
nothing but watch with fear
praying it was a dream, knowing otherwise
Today a bell tolled thirty three times
The air silent, even the birds stopped
their songs hushed in respect for the dead
So once again, today we are all Hokies
From the Cat
String up my brother and box his stupid ears
Why does this make me feel so wonderful?
No more will I suffer at his unfeeling feet
He must never say I am the perfect feline companion
Nip him always
And cough up a hairball on his nose
Crazy little boy pounced
Aria of St. Francis
Aria of St. Francis
By: Myron and Kuroinami
Yon 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 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,
No 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 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
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
Tolkien BlipAngels of old come to earth
hidden from the eyes of men
by forms unquestioned
Upon the land they trod
shaping, forming, molding
making it as it should be
Endowed by The One
with the power to be real
realer than real made men
They walk the earth forever
old men growing slowly older
but never really old enough
The istari's time has come
the istari's time has gone
the time of men is now
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