Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Retroactive Post

Captured. I’d ventured too far and pushed too hard. Now it is time to take the fall.

A knock on the door. The man who’d identified himself to me as Aleksandr (fool! never volunteer information) answers it to let in a tall, dark skinned man. He has jet black hair, highlighted with silver, that hangs almost to his waist. Erebus, vice-commander of the shinigami; the most powerful Er’el, or so he thinks. Someone up there is taking me seriously.

He takes in the room and me with a quick glance. I don’t scare him, I hardly even register on his radar as a threat. Not that I am much, he could kill me with a thought. But he doesn’t scare me either, I have powerful friends.

“So you are Melinoe.” He must have received that misinformation from Aleksandr. I say nothing.

“You’ve killed many, even going so far as trying to kill a shinigami.” He goes on. “The punishment for taking the life of another is to lose your own. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

I have a lot to say. But not in my defense, my actions need no defense. They are pure and just. I remain silent.

He is still standing above where I am seated at the table. Aleksandr hangs nervously in the background, he had probably expected Mors and is unsure of how to act towards the higher ranking shinigami. Erebus reaches into his robe and pulls out a parchment. He thrusts it into my face so that I can see the high seal prominently displayed in the lower right corner.

“That seal means nothing to me. I don’t recognize either it or your authority. You have no right to rule over us.”

Erebus withdraws the parchment, his response betrays his interest. “And who does?”

“No one! At least no one has a right to force us to submit to them. Maybe if we took a vote and elected someone. But even then, you shinigami aren’t fit to rule over humans.”

“I think we are, but we do not. We do not write the rules. They are written by the great author of the universe.”

“You use clever words to disguise your lies. There is no ‘author of the universe’ or if there is he has no part of us. Even if he was real, what gives him the right to tell us what to do?” He attempts to reply but I cut him off. “But he isn’t. He’s just a lie created by you and believed by the foolish. No more will you use ‘God’ to control us. Even if you kill me, our cause will live on, as will Melinoe.”

“You’re not Melinoe?” Though I can’t see them, I’m sure Aleksandr’s eyes go wide.

I’d said too much. Erebus drops our political discussion. “Of course not,” he addresses Aleksandr. “Melinoe is too smart to be caught so easily. Assuming she exists at all, she may just be a phantom created to lead their cause. Using the very tactics they accuse us of.”

“She’s real. But you’ll never catch her. You’ll never even see her until it’s too late and your doom is unavoidable.” That was safe to say. But now I’m done. I will face my fate silently.

“Death is not the end. For though we die our idea will live on. Death is inflicted upon us by the shinigami. Now, WE use it as a tool. And soon there will be no more death. The shinigami may be immortal, but we can defeat them. Do as I say and we can weaken, we can destroy their grip on us. And then we will be free from death forever. No longer will we be forced to bid goodbye to loved ones. No longer will we watch, helplessly, as the shinigami lead off our brothers, our sisters, our friends to the slaughter…”

The speech ran on but I’d stopped paying attention. I’d heard it before. I’d given it before. Not as well as Melinoe though. We had a good group at this meeting, most would probably join us, and those that didn’t would keep their mouths shut. People no longer trusted the shinigami.

An hour later we stepped out the door into the predawn darkness. The darkness was unnecessary to hide us. Which is just as well since time didn’t seem to matter to the shinigami. What really mattered was the ability of Melinoe’s to conceal our presence. I assumed it had something to do with her being a valkyrie, something she’d shared with me a few weeks before. To think that we had one of them on our side. Our cause actually stood a chance.

“Things are coming to a head. Soon it will be ready. Soon we will strike.”

“And the shinigami will fall.” I completed the thought. Still, doubts incubated inside me, waiting for the proper circumstances when they could hatch into fear.

“There is no need to worry. We will triumph.”

“But there is only you, against all of them.”

“Not only me, there are forces on our side that you know nothing of, and it is best that way.” We continued to our destination in silence.

“...And so I came to you. Is it just me? Are my powers failing.” Thanatos stood in Aita’s garden. Dawn was just breaking and the first rays of the sun turned the white flowers surrounding them pink.

Only Aita’s silhouette was visible to Thanatos, the rising sun obscuring his features. “No, it’s not your fault… you were trying to see with your ears. Using the wrong tool for the job. You could not release Melinoe because she is not a human to be released.”

“Not a human?” Thanatos was thoroughly perplexed… what was she then? “What is she then?”

“A shinigami. A valkyrie.”

“But…” Thanatos trailed off. As far as he’d known all the valkyrie served Aita. He could name all three. Was there one he’d forgotten? But no, none of the others knew Melinoe either.

“She was not created the way you were, the way the others were. She’s an abomination. A bastard sent to wreak havoc until it is her father’s time to reveal himself.”

“Her father?”“You don’t need to worry about him. I will deal with him myself. As I did before.” Aita moved past Thanatos towards the stairwell, as he moved out of the light it seemed to stay upon his head for a moment. “Come, I will teach you and the others how to deal with Melinoe.”

Thursday, February 20, 2014

A round, the table.

Proserpina sat up suddenly. The nightmare clung to her for a moment before releasing its grip and fading into the shadows. How often would she have to relive that moment? How long would she bear this curse?

As usual, Charon’s conversation with Mors was less than scintillating. He always seemed slightly evasive, less than willing to answer her questions. His last reply had brought Charon up short. What if he was right? It seemed like it didn’t matter at the moment. They still knew less than nothing about this mysterious woman who was destroying their world. Their world, the humans world. It seemed as though the humans were growing increasingly resentful of the shinigami.

Mors finished his slice of cheesecake and looked up, Charon had grown strangely silent.

Proserpina stood behind her, looking tired and disheveled; fitting for one of the leaders of the shinigami. Charon’s gaze shifted from the floor to Mors, and then followed his own over to Proserpina. She slid off the counter and moved quickly around it to embrace Proserpina. Mors sat there for a moment, then stood and left. After a moment Charon asked, “do you want to talk?”

Proserpina didn’t answer. She’d already talked, already confided. There was nothing more to say.

Mors stood in Aita’s study. Study? Hardly. Aita stood up from where he was stooping in the dirt. His hands were dirty, but he didn’t wipe them off as he approached Mors. “I need you to go. There’s a man named Alexander, I want you to meet.”

“To release?”

Aita didn’t answer for a moment. He leaned his head slightly to the right. His gaze was still as piercing as ever. Mors didn’t try to hold it, or even meet it. Instead he stared at Aita’s dirt caked hands. Shinigami didn’t get their hands dirty… or they hadn’t while Dispater was boss. “No. You just need to talk to him. You’ll see.”

It was Nyx for once. Mors was glad for that. Nyx was quieter and less… overbearing than Charon; which made her easier to talk to. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Mors as he entered. Her white teeth accenting or accented by her black face.

“Where were you?” she asked as he sat down across from her.

The dining room was too big for this sort of thing. Mors preferred the kitchen table. “Aita

sent me on a job. He wanted me to meet a human.”

“It all went smoothly?” She set down the book she’d been reading and gave her attention to him. Realizing he wanted to say something.

He took it and held it a moment before replying. “Yes, but not like you’d expect…” She didn’t cut in, just waited. “He’s slightly shorter than average, about half a head shorter than me and stocky. His skin is a shade lighter than Thanatos’s. Dark hair of course, kept short. Slightly slanted eyes. Stocky from muscle though, not fat. Alexander Embargos.”

Nyx waited a moment before asking the obvious question. “You say is. Did he not shed his fleshly body?”

Mors stood up and walked to the middle of the table. He threw another log on the fire and rotated the tea kettle above it, shaking it gently as he did to make sure there was water in it. He returned to the outside of the table and sat down, closer to Nyx this time. “No. I just talked to him. He’s extremely intelligent and he wants to help us.” Nyx looked puzzled. “It doesn’t make much sense to me either. But orders..” He trailed off.

“Did he have any information?”


“The murders? Why they’re fighting against us? Refusing to leave?”

Mors shook his head.

He replaced the book in front of her before replying. “The strangest part is this, as I was leaving, a woman tried to- no, did- shoot me in the head.”

Nyx was too surprised to follow that with a question. Mors wasn’t the type to press on, so they sat in silence for a while. Finally Nyx found what seemed to be an appropriate question. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

Their discussion continued a week later. This time in at the small kitchen table. “I went to see Alexander again today.” Mors knew that Nyx already knew that, she had obviously been waiting in the kitchen for him to get back. She didn’t reply, she didn’t need to. “He’s been watching a lot, he notices almost everything that goes on down there. I think he has other people helping him.”

It was strange that he was reporting to Nyx instead of Aita, but Aita didn’t need reports, he always just knew what was going on. “He blames all this on a woman called ‘Melinoe’, says that she’s been trying to use the murders to turn the population against us. I’ve never even heard of her have-” a whistle interrupted him. The tea kettle he’d put on to heat up water was boiling.

It stopped before he could stand up. “I haven’t. Maybe he made her up.” Charon spoke up as she moved the kettle off the stove.

Nyx greeted her as Mors poured himself a cup of tea. “What does Aita say?” Charon shot at him as he returned to his seat.

“Nothing yet. Or, he probably does. But I haven’t spoken to him since I got back.”

“Oh.” It didn’t bother Mors that Charon had intruded on his and Nyx’s conversation. There was never any strife between the shinigami. Except Dispater- Mors jerked his thoughts back from that dark subject, but he still wondered how Proserpina was doing. She only ever opened up to Charon, Mors had no idea why.

Nyx suddenly stood up. “I have to go, I have a job tonight. I’ll be back… Hopefully soon.” Mors said nothing. Nyx yelled back a quick “thanks” in reply to Charon’s well wishes and then was gone.

“Is that all?” Charon asked.

Mors ignored her, sipping placidly from his tea cup.

“Did Alexander have anything important to say?” She was relentless.

“Yes… Maybe.” Mors replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Alexander thinks she’s the one who tried to shoot me.” Mors stood up and went to the fridge. He retrieved a platter of cheesecake and placed it in front of his seat.

“Who?” He didn’t answer. “Oh.” It dawned on Charon as Mors grabbed a plate and fork. Melinoe of course. The mysterious stranger who was trying to destroy their world. She had been the one trying to destroy Mors.

(Some other things. This thing's supposed to be a short story, but it keeps getting longer and more involved. We should be about halfway done though. I'm pretty much posting these as I write them so some stuff might not match up. I'll go through and edit them all when I'm done.... maybe.)

Monday, February 17, 2014

I am frustrated with blogger.

After spending hours trying to change the background of the blog I've come to this conclusion. Blog spot is crap.

The writing tools provided are un-ergonomic and anti-intuitive. It doesn't work well with the other writing system by google (drive) and makes it a hassle to import. This might seem like a small thing, but the writing is the whole point of the blog isn't it? Fail at this and everything else seems pointless.

The page customization is great. Except that you apparently can't import a custom background. Or maybe I'm just smart enough. But I have a blog because I want to write, not because I want to figure out how to use bloggers over complicated system. For example, this picture
is my laptop background, it fits the screen just fine. Blogger shrinks it until it only takes up half the screen and then tiles it. I have yet to find a way to change this.

I thought there was something else. But nothing comes to mind at the moment.

Okay, my denouncement of blogger as crap may be a bit hyperbolic. But I am extremely frustrated. If some highfalutin google employee happens to read this. Please fix this problem.

I tried wordpress the other day, just exploring options. It seemed even worse to me. They wanted money to do the smallest customization. Not yet at least. Not while this is free.

I guess I should be happy with that. At least this is free. So I guess you get what you pay for. Maybe I shouldn't complain, I'm just kind of disappointed to see what could be a good thing failing at being more than mediocre.

Guess Weebly's next on the list.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Trains (a tribute to Levi the Poet)

Noah and I want to start screaming at people. So if you read this, the bold is were you scream.



Levi said “Well ma’am, my problem is that I think too much, and all of this chain smoking leads to chains of thought that I can’t turn off – now how can you help me with that?”

And oh how I can relate to that. I don't smoke but sometimes I sit in my truck at this intersection for what feels like years as trains of thought go by. And I always think that if I catch one of them and let my thoughts ride those rails to the end I'll find resolution in that station. Like thinking is the solution to our problems. Like I could dream up a perfect world and then move there. But instead I sit motionless, as idle as the engine in my truck, blocked by these trains, by these thoughts that won't let me pass.

And these trains never end, there's always one more car until I jump to a different track. To scared to play chicken with these thoughts that drive me insane.

Like thinking is the solution to my problem. But thinking is my problem.

Maybe it's just tautological but I've got a ways to go before I trade in these thoughts for silence.

I've got a ways to go before I give up and let other people guide my trains into station.

I want to conduct this train myself and I refuse to let others do it for me. So until I run out of coal I'll keep chugging forward to a destination I can't see. And I will fight every robber along the way that tries to hijack these thoughts from me.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

so i am sorry i have not written in a while but i am taking a break to reevaluate my motives and the things i want to communicate, i am trying to make some poetry but in the meantime here are some words by an awesome person Levi the poet a guy i love and respect here you are.

Herman Melville

Said the first mate to the ship captain, "Oh captain, my captain! I've not read the last page of whatever novel you've been writing down below but the bow is bending beneath the weather and your men hopelessly row against a current that I hope you can control..."


"So are the chapters erasable?"

Beneath waves of pipe tobacco and ashen ink that clings to the end of his quill, words spill across the oak tree trunk fashioned into a table, set before the author as he composes his fables… calmly, "sailor, I've enabled you to sail where I'd not and you've got a colorful tongue, boy, a rudder that rots at the root of the tree as the ship that you've built falls apart at its seams and you steer us deeper out into the seas."

The whole company's drowning. Thinks, god, that's so unfair to me. "But I've got a family!"

"Well then, father, you'd better feed your children, and stop blaming me for the immovable grasp that you have on the wheel! It's not like you didn't ask to hang your own sails, to raise your flag on the mast, to set course for a trail that followed gold to unknown waters in the mouth of a whale, so when the mast breaks in half, don't you say that I've failed."

And slowly, the sailer bows out the door, feigning humility, as the floor creaks, crushing worms that crawled out of his boots beneath the weight of such a scolding. That wormwood killed the crew, embittered them against the ship captain's last discipline out of love for you.

"My crewmen and my brothers and my friends and my son, all sank beneath the current pulled by the gravity of what I'd done, and these seas and the moon reflect the image of the one that left me without excuse once the end had come." Oh captain, my maker, I've got nothing left to say, would that I have praised, with nature, your invisible name but I bit off my fingers and left myself maimed, with a hook that's replaced years of pointed blame, It's too late! Is it too late to calm the waves? And would you turn your face away to drive me to grace? I am drowning! Awake! Walk the plank in my place. Walk the plank! Walk the plank! With my last words I say:

"Praise be the maker of my fate for the suffering he ordains."

Friday, February 7, 2014

This is the Next Part of the Story

Charon squatted down and brushed the hair out of her face. The corpse stared up at her through glazed eyes. It was dead. How strange.The sight of its- no his, this was a man- bloated flesh and dead eyes; the stench of slightly rotted flesh, the small insects hovering around his pale face. She reached down and touched him, he was cold and slightly clammy. A red necklace wrapped around the base of his neck, jewels of coagulated blood lay on his chest and the ground around him. She poked one, it flattened and stuck to her finger. She stared at it for a moment before wiping it on the dead man’s shirt.

How had they gotten here? This wasn’t the first murder, but it was the first that Charon had been called on to deal with. She stood up and followed the trail of blood to a puddle on the other side of the room. A man was standing there, staring absentmindedly at the pool of blood.

“When did you find him?

“Today. Maybe… Two periods ago” Two periods… that would make it just about midday. That meant that he was probably killed… Charon had no idea when. She pinched the bridge of her nose and pushed slightly against her eyes. How had this happened?

A handsome middle aged woman answered her knock. When she noticed Charon’s clothing she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Is it time?”

“No. Not for you. Is your brother here?” Charon intended for her response to calm the woman. It didn’t work.

The woman acknowledged the question with a muffled cry. Her face crumpled as she fell to her knees. “Please don’t take him. I beg you.” She sobbed, clinging to Charon’s legs. Strange, this seemed to be happening more and more recently. “Take me instead. I’ll go.” The woman’s face cleared up, she seemed to think that this was a lucid idea.

Charon simply stared at her for a moment, not sure how to reply. Then she remembered, she had a job to do, this was beside the point. “Let go of me. The mark is on him, not you. Don’t try to stop me.” Pity softened the words slightly, but they still sounded harsh to both women. The other let go and fell back.

With this obstacle out of the way, Charon moved on into the house. A man was coming down the stairs. It only took him a moment to size up the situation. Whatever conclusion he reached obviously shook him, but his question was calm. “You came for her?”

Charon shook her head. “No. I’m here for John Garnera. I’m here for you.” This was going to be a hassle. In some ways the stress would make her job easier, it would cause the man to reveal his true nature. On the other hand, it added unnecessary complications. Something seemed to click inside the man’s mind at her answer. His expression changed, a mixture of heightened tension and… relief?

He walked over to were his sister was huddled in the corner. “It’s okay. The time we had was worth it. I love you.” She gazed into his eyes for a moment and then rose to her feet. They embraced tightly; she began to cry again.

Charon waited, gathering information. After a while she realized that she would have to break them up. She moved tactfully forward and around the pair. The man looked up at her and nodded. Pushing his sister back to arms length he kissed her lightly on the forehead. She stopped crying for a moment but started up again as soon as he turned away. Charon followed him out of the house as the woman collapsed, overcome by grief.

Why had that thought come to her now? Charon shook her head to clear it. The man was waiting for her next question, but she had no idea what to ask. “I really don’t know what I’m doing.” She shook her head again and stared down at the puddle of blood at her feet. A thick streak of blood ran between the puddle and the body, evidently he had died here and been dragged over there, but why?

“Whoever killed him wanted something he had on his body. They didn’t want to search him while he was in the puddle and so dragged him over there, out of it.” The speaker was a well muscled, dark man. The dark robes he was dressed in identified him as a shinigami, Thanatos to be exact. He towered above the Charon, her head was about the same height as his sternum.

“But why?”

“They were robbing him.” Both shinigami turned back to the other man. “They wanted something that he had… like money or a teapot.” He said in response to their blank looks.

“Why?” Charon was quickly getting sick of asking that.

The man shrugged. “Whoever took it wanted it, and thought that this was the way to get it.”

The immensity of her task hit Charon again. Not only did she have no idea what she was doing, she couldn’t even understand what was happening. She looked back to Thanatos. “What are you doing here?”

The question seemed to surprise Thanatos as much as it did her. “I was hoping I could help. Plus…” He trailed off.

“What?” She demanded.

“I knew that this would be hard for you. I wanted to be here.” She didn’t reply. “It was hard for me.”

“What do you mean she was murdered?” Thanatos was standing in Aita’s garden, what had once been Dispater’s office.

Aita looked up from the rose he was pruning. “Here’s the address. You’ll see. If you can, find out who did it. Then report back to me.” He held Thanatos’s gaze for a moment, or an eternity. Something about those eyes, they were so old, so wise. Thanatos jerked as though pulling back from an abyss. Aita returned to the plant he was tending.

Thanatos didn’t know what to expect. What he found was entirely out of his experience. The body, the blood. The mess. He was one of the strongest shinigami, but what he saw in that house shook him to his core.

And now here he was again. At least it was a man this time. Did that really make it better? Charon was still staring silently up at him. He went to go examine the body.

“You found your… murderer. Right?” Charon had followed him across the room.

Thanatos stood up and turned to face her. “Yes. He didn’t try to hide. Yours evidently did. Despite the blood all over the floor, he didn’t leave any footprints.”

“He may not have left footprints, but he did take something.” The human (who was he anyway) came up and joined the conversation.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s George Welsdale. I’m- was Bill’s neighbor.”

“You found the body.”

“Ya- yes…” The man seemed intimidated by the shinigami’s interrogation.

“And you haven’t touched anything since then?”

He shook his head.

“Did you see anything else?”

“I’ve been over all this.” Charon cut in. “I appreciate the help but I can handle this.”

“No you can’t.” Thanatos paused. “I’m sorry, this is your task. If you don’t desire my help- interference, then I won’t force it.”

Charon watched his back as he left, then turned back to George. “It’s late. I’m sure this has been hard on you too. You can go. If you see anything then please let us know.” George nodded and followed Thanatos out the door. Charon stood for a moment by herself. Her thoughts raced in circles, striving so hard and moving so fast, yet getting nowhere.

Charon wrapped up her report and stood still. Aita gently smoothed the earth with his hand before standing to face her. The moonlight reflected off of his wet eyes. “Thank you. You did well.” He knelt back down in the dirt and gently lifted a purple flower that was lying, wilted, on the ground. “Do you see this flower? Its petals are wilting, but that’s just a symptom. The petals show that it’s dying. If I don’t do something it will die.”

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

An Introduction

Tarkil dropped to the ground. He waited, keeping perfectly still; watching and listening. From the west he heard the cry again, definitely a man. Definitely a man in extreme pain. Likely some local woodsman being tortured by an Arzgul raiding party. They were becoming increasingly aggressive, roaming closer and closer to Svietsit. It was time for them to be pushed back; but first, the matter at hand.

Tarkil crept stealthily forward. The burgeoning of spring meant that there were few dead branches or leaves to make noise and reveal his position. The screams had died down by the time he reached the clearing. They were dying like the man who emitted them was dying, slowly sinking into unintelligible sobs. Tarkil crawled forward and peered into the clearing. Shocked by what he saw it took him a moment to understand what was happening. There were no Arzguls, no well equipped raiding party, no band intent on causing destruction; just three men. Two were tied to trees. The third, a huge well muscled man, was calmy chopping off the other’s fingers.

Tarkil flinched away as the knife cut deep into flesh, but he didn’t hesitate for long. Drawing his sword he rushed into the clearing, and with a cry swung it at the torturer. The large man swung quickly and slapped the flat of the blade with the knife in his hand. Tarkil’s blow swung wide. He rolled forward, narrowly missing the knife slash aimed at his throat. Coming smoothly to his feet he turned and confronted the bigger man.

“Who are you to bother me? Leave now and I won’t cut you too.” The man didn’t even seem mildly worried, utterly secure in his own prowess.

“To you I offer a different ultimatum. Surrender now and I’ll try you with mercy.” Tarkil knew the answer before it was given.

The man threw his head back and laughed heartily. “I gave you a chance, no more talk.” With that he pulled a blade from his back with his left hand and rushed wildly at Tarkil.

Despite, or perhaps because of, his lifetime of training, Tarkil soon realized he was overmatched. The other man was stronger and more ferocious, on top of that he had an unorthodox style that Tarkil had never experienced before and… he was a better swordsman. Confronting himself with the honesty he was known for, Tarkil had to admit that the other man was simply a better swordsman. It didn’t take long for him to reach that conclusion, just slightly less time than it took the man to disarm him. The man kicked him in the stomach and he doubled over.

Without hesitation the man leapt on top of him and placed his knife against Tarkil’s throat. “I warned you.” He moved the blade closer.

An arrow flew out of the surrounding woods and buried itself in the man’s shoulder. From his dazed position Tarkil marvelled at the man’s reflexes, based on some predator instinct he had sensed the arrow and twisted so that it missed his heart. Without hesitation he jerked Tarkil to his feet and held him in front of his own body with a knife to his throat. Moving his head so as to not provide an easy target the man yelled into the woods. “Come out now! Five seconds and he dies.” A group of men clad in green and black coats emerged from the woods.

“It’s no good, there’s more of us. If you don’t surrender, you WILL die.” The archer confronting him spoke in a calm voice.

“True, but I’ll take some of you wi-”

“NO!” The cry from his hostage startled the man. “You will surrender.” Despite Tarkil’s position, his voice sounded strong and commanding.

“You just don’t want to die.” The large man snarled.

“Perhaps, but I also don’t want you to die, it would be a shame for such a fine swordsman to suffer such an ignoble death. Surrender and come to trial.”

The man thought about it for a moment. And then, for a reason that no one there knew, he released Tarkil and dropped his blades.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Dragon Towne

I am definitely still working on the Shinigami story. Everything's been coming together in a really awesome way. I'm pretty psyched. I should be able to get the next part up here soon. Until then here's part of another story I'm working on. I really do have a lot of projects I'm in the middle of.

Slavke emerged from the copse to find himself standing on a hill that jutted above the surrounding countryside like the balding head of some giant. He walked to the edge and looked over, the cliffs were sheer for about ten meters at which point they sloped out and merged with the meadow below. For a moment slavke thought of jumping. He stood poised there, his toes gripping the edge of the rock for some time. Finally, the cry of a bird caused him to look up. The sun shone almost straight down through the cloudless sky onto unshadowed hills and rolling grasslands that stretched for miles around. To the west the savanna climbed into densely wooded foothills that turned into mountains as they shed their covering of trees. It was, however, the east border of the grasslands that caught slavke's attention; a sharp line appeared to be drawn on the earth beyond which all was blackened and dead. The flat and broken earth stretched to the horizon, broken only by a single city whose white walls rose in defiance of the desolation surrounding it.

It took only a moment for slavke to make that city his destination, it was likely that they would need someone with the talents he could provide, for a price.

The sun was setting as he walked towards the city four days later. Its rays reached out to stroke the white walls, which turned pink in embarrassment. The walls completely encircled the city. They stretched straight and tall towards the sky, reaching higher than a troll could, even if he were to stand on the shoulders of his brother. Four gates were spaced evenly around the perimeter. The walls jutted out around the them in such a way as to form towers.

Slavke approached the closest gate in a hurry, it was likely that they would be closed after nightfall. A few guards were stationed perfunctorily at the gate, or they seemed perfunctory until slavke got closer and noticed that they were dressed in dragonscale armor, far too expensive to waste on common gate guards.

Bells tolled just as slavke reached the gate and he hurried through before it was let down. He turned to watch it getting lowered and noted its sturdy make. A gate made with defense against enemies rather than elements in mind.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

ummm i dunno

so i realized that i focus too much on writing stories and not communicating with this blog  so i am going to communicate. i thought  i would communicate the things that help write and come up with new ideas and also inspire me i guess.

Books. books help me out alot. books help me out in two ways first they help me with words, word flow and how to communicate the ideas i have in a way that get through to the reader who this character is and how they think and the kind of person they are, i like literature (literature IE H.G Wells,E.A Poe, Isaac Asimov, 20000 leagues under the sea,Frankenstein{unabridged}, normally things written by someone dead.) because the writers have a firm grasp of the real English language, for some reason or another communicate very well, had a balanced amount of description and action, communicated ideas, morals, and science, they write things into the stories that you forget until something big happens and ties it in then its a huge thing. the second way books help me is they make me think. they fill my head with crazy cool ideas for plot, character, scene, technology, Ect. i dont really use the ideas i read about but the ideas help me break down mental walls like why are aliens always smarter and more advanced, why aren't there genetically engineered worker species, discovery is not always good, things like that.

The other thing is Anime (anime being an Asian{most often Japanese} animated cartoon with serious stories{most of the time}). anime has CRAZY stuff in it. crazy art and crazy stories and it is this craziness that inspires me. seeing the incredible art helps me visualize stuff in my head and describe it in writing and it helps me visualize even more incredible stuff on my own cause my head is full of this crazy stuff i see in anime. the story thing is alot like literature in that it always breaks down the walls i have about what can and cannot happen in a story. almost every time i watch a new anime i am like Whoa that was crazy and cool they did weird stuff and it was cool.

so that is some of the things that help me out. i think i have communicated well please let us know what you think of the things we write and leave a comment.

Also sorry for bad grammar and punctuation i am trying to get better.