tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85525653571156430572024-02-21T02:36:01.162-08:00My WorldI stick whatever writings I want others to see here.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-64416327729442888442020-12-06T16:50:00.001-08:002020-12-06T16:50:40.455-08:00The Debt of Trust<p>I'm desperate to be something else<br />Wanting success, but bringing disappointment<br />Willing to weep but unable to change<br />Desiring happiness but I'll stay the same.</p><p>Conscious of the price of my ego<br />Tics of failure bring sorrow anew<br />Despite repetition of mounting mistakes<br />I regress into this horrible state -</p><p>Sleepless nights of distraction<br />From a flickering screen,<br />thinking "I should have"<br />But guilt's a deep grave</p><p>Fragile will, irresolute and dismissible<br />Paper thin masks hide the shame<br />Disappointment of others, despite my plans<br />No, my true desires bore fruit and this began</p><p>A cycle of error I'm caught in<br />Where pain leads to sorrow, sorrow feeds lethargy<br />Lethargy ignites desire, yet desire brings pain<br />All the while, thinking what I gain</p><p>by being so distraught.<br />A part of who I am:<br />discreet failures, tacit fronts<br />Hide a true, unchanging runt</p><p>Prone to dreams of grandeur<br />Of puffed up pride and praise<br />Yet in actions sorely lacking<br />My sorrys, they are stacking</p><p>without recourse, due a whip -<br />I have remorse, its not enough<br />For every promise I have broken<br />For every new one I am given</p><p>The thought remains, unsaid but strong<br />This time, what will I do wrong?</p>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-24489606206471307992020-11-29T05:15:00.003-08:002020-11-29T05:15:52.546-08:00Talks from the Podium<p>I watched my friend from the wooden pews<br />Struggling to preach an answer<br />To the question of peace he had not found<br />That threatened to tear me asunder</p><p>His hesitant words, his conflicting conviction<br />On a statement he knows should be true<br />Yet the person that's failed to convince in that moment<br />Is myself, my faithless hues</p><p>We have within each of us, combatting desires<br />To be certain things that we want<br />Burns bright in us, the fear of hypocrisy<br />When we speak of truths that we aren't<br /></p><p>We wish them to be - at a snap of our fingers<br />To have that surety of mind<br />Yet inside we know that wishful desires<br />Aren't enough to bring peace of mind</p><p>If we could only have a seed of desire<br />To push ourselves ever forward<br />But we can't plant that seed, truth it may be<br />For we fear the loss of our present</p>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-55155475727506314872020-11-09T01:00:00.005-08:002020-11-09T01:00:38.060-08:00A Threatening World<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;">In a village bordering the Melhuarin north and the Argan mountains...</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-ff429800-7fff-b9a3-cdc7-a82706802cd0"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel watched as Velm returned, leading a small train of two adults and three children. He was dressed in a thick cotton shirt against the chill autumn air, with his braided hair hanging upon his chest.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Velm was the bravest man Yngel had ever known, but even he looked shaken by what he had seen out there.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Velm,” Yngel said, stepping down from the steps of his large home. “Velm, this can’t be true…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Velm shook his head grimly, ushering the five survivors forward. “There are no other survivors left from that hamlet, Yngel. All gone. Some eaten, some taken away. I saw a number of the corpses myself, feasted upon on the spot. Bloody things were still there. I lost half a dozen men just killing two.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You couldn’t kill the rest?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Velm’s eyes hardened. “It’s a bloody miracle there weren’t more, Yngel. More than half of my guards slaughtered in seconds… you think we have a chance?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel shuddered. He looked at the survivors, mouths open and eyes down, nameless faces from the village that had come under attack not an hour ago. “Come inside,” he said mechanically, “my wife will bring blankets and food for you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Velm looked ready to turn away, but Yngel reached out his hand to stop him. “Velm,” he said in an unsteady voice.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His friend stopped. “I need to attend to my men.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I know. Just… you said you killed two?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Two yorak. Stragglers, small ones. They must have been left behind by the pack.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Then, the rest are still out there.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Velm nodded. “I think so. We don’t know how many, but I am sure they will be back. What happens next is up to you Chieftain.” With that, Velm shouldered the sack, and began to walk away.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel felt his heart quiver. His friends only called him Chieftain when they themselves did not know what to do. Oftentimes, at those moments Yngel also had no idea what to do next.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel was leader of the Orthoran clan, twelfth in succession to a long line of noble Eliyan leaders. The small town and surrounding villages were his birthright, and he had ruled them to the best of his abilities in the last ten years.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Living on the Melhuarin border, near the Argan mountains, had always been risky because of bandits, wolves and other monstrosities. Leaders of the Orthoran clan had always needed to be brave and strong, and none had failed so far. But in the last few generations, greater dangers had arisen.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They were called scalebeasts by the Central Lands - a strangely accurate description. Yngel’s ancestors referred to them as </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">varadul</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the invaders. Yngel himself had never seen one, but he knew their descriptions - men with the face of lizards, hardened carapaces like armor and the strength of three men within their arms. Accompanying them would be an assortment of horrifying creatures, each deadly in their own way. They were ruthless and cruel - closer to wild animals, but still intelligent somehow.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Seldom, a small nest of some sort would crop up somewhere, and the defenders of Orthoran would rise to meet them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But this time, it appeared as though the clan guards were not up to the task. For weeks, there had been a recent spike of incidents - refugees, his people, fleeing countryside with their farms burned and their families consumed. Yngel had responded according to his best knowledge, posting guards and patrols as often as he could. A great many of those had disappeared as well. What could be done?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What do we do?” he whispered to himself. None of the outlying farms and hamlets were safe anymore. He would have to recall them to the safety of the walls. But then, could the varadul come in force and rip the town apart? Would he dare risk the livelihood of the entire centre, to save a few outliers?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel could feel the walls closing in. The Orthoran Clan was considered part of the Kingdom of Eliya, but a messenger to the heartland would take weeks. By then, they could all be dead and gone. Even so, the likelihood of Eliya sending a contingent to save a small town of little consequence was laughably small. If Yngel had to guess, the Kingdom was probably embroiled in some war against the Tenalin northerners again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One thing at a time. His mind preoccupied, he turned toward his door to see what could be done to settle in the new refugees.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You have a problem in the countryside, Chieftain?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel paused. He did not recognise the voice, and he knew almost everyone in town. He turned to look at who had addressed him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was a small group of four, clearly foreigners. Where most Eliyans shared black hair and dark eyes like the northern natives, these people had incongruent shades of blonde, fiery, and brown hair. Yngel had often heard descriptions of the strange Cilayans and their dynamic physical features, but it was always a surprise to see them in person. Each was dressed in large, dust cloaks that enveloped their bodies, the kind well-suited for travel. Their leader, a woman with red hair and pure blue eyes, stepped forward.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Scalebeasts. You have scalebeasts in your countryside?” she said, as though repeating herself.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel jerked, realising he had been staring very hard at their strange features instead of responding. He said, “There is danger and bloodshed out there, yes. You must have seen the survivors ushered into my home... Um... To whom do I speak to?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Call me Sari. We saw your survivors, yes. We’ve also seen for ourselves some of the ruined villages on the outskirts of your central town.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel nodded. “You know, yet you still ask. What is it you want, travelers? If you will excuse my impoliteness, I have little time to entertain travelers. I have much to do to see my town kept safe.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The woman named Sari looked at her companions. As Chieftain, Yngel was experienced in reading faces, seeing emotions. That look that she gave her companions, was one of need - seeking assurance from them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel realised how very young Sari was. Perhaps she was not the leader after all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She spoke, “We’re… experts in the realm of killing scalebeasts. We’ve already investigated the ruins of your villages, and the numbers look bad. Based on the evidence, we’re looking at two separate clusters raiding in and out of your homes. We want to offer our help - for payment of course - in ridding you of these scalebeasts.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Experts you say?” Yngel expressed his doubt. “You have made it your lives’ work to hunt varadul? Strange, the only ones I’ve heard of that hunt varadul are…” His voice trailed off. He felt his pulse quicken, and his eyes widen. They could not possibly be...</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Another woman, this one older, with lines in her face and faded blonde hair - stepped forward. “I told you it was useless to pretend to be anything otherwise, Sari.” The older woman raised her fist. It was covered in the safety of a glove. “Do not flinch, scream or cower, old man,” the woman said in a low voice.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She removed the glove. A brilliant red imprint of a strange, reptilian creature was inked into the back of her hand. As it glinted in the noonday Sun, its brilliant yellow eye seemed to sparkle with life, staring deep into Yngel’s soul.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel had heard of this mark, ingrained into the skin of terrible beings. Harbingers of death, peace-breakers of the past and a curse onto any who sheltered them. He had never seen it, and he had hoped he would never have to.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Vrak</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Scars. Cursed. Killers. These people possessed ancient powers ingrained in their blood, a power that had once ruled the world, and shattered it in the process. Those marked with this strange mark, known as the Hunter’s Mark, were known to the world to be especially dangerous, capable of wreaking havoc</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He took three steps back. As the woman said, he did not scream. He did not dare to. His hand reached backward, trying to find the doorknob to the safety of his home. Goosebumps of fear rippled across his skin and he felt like he might vomit.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do you hear me? We offered our </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">help</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. For your coin and some supplies, we’ll rid your town of this threat.” It was the younger woman speaking. Her name had been Sari. She stepped forward, ahead of her companion, who was slipping the glove back onto her hand.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I… you…</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Vrak...</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” He struggled to speak, still backing away.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Stop advancing, Sari,” a man’s voice said. He was brown of hair and looked somewhat amused. “You will bowl him over his own steps.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari glared at him. Yngel felt her eyes turn back to his, and he struggled to breathe.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ll repeat my offer, and we will wait for your acceptance. Yes, we are Scars - Vrak, as you called us. We bear the mark, and as bound by the laws of the Watchers, we will not harm you. If we do, the Watchers will know. We possess the powers given to us by our Curse, and we can use it to kill these scalebeasts. Your Town Guard - Velm was it? - as we heard, he already lost six men to two fledglings. You can’t hope to kill these things without our help.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel composed himself, breathing deeply. They were bound by the Watchers - Divines keep them - and could not harm him. He breathed again. “I… compensation. You want compensation?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari nodded. “You have two separate clusters operating independent of one another. We don’t know everything yet, but that can be anything between sixteen to thirty scalebeasts - er - varadul. It’s very bad.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What is your price?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We’ll bring you the heads of every varadul we kill. A dozen golden marks per head.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Despite his subsisting fear, Yngel felt a tinge of horror. “A dozen… you said there might be thirty of them. That ismore than three hundred marks! The town coffers will suffer-”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The older woman looked at him. There was no mirth in her eyes, none of the innocent youth that Sari possessed. Yngel felt another sharp wave of fear as he looked into those eyes, and saw something dark. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The older woman said, “Choose what you value more, Chieftain: The lives of your people, or the money in your vaults? Sari mentioned these varadul working as two separate clusters; that is your luck coming into play. They are unaware of each other as of yet. A cluster will not attack a town as large as this one. But if they meet, fight and eventually become one? The best result is that your outskirts become a battleground. The worst - and the most eventual - is that a larger, more organised </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Claw</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> will form, and they will rip your town to shreds.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari placed a hand across her companion’s chests, gently pushing her back. “That’s enough of scaring him, Kariah.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari looked at him with earnest eyes. “We are Scars. We have our… tricks, but it might not be enough. By all evidence, the clusters are at maximum size, and pose a threat even to us. We’re doing this at great risk to ourselves.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The older woman spoke again, “if you do not have the money, gather some from your townsmen, Chieftain. Unless you would rather gather them to fight instead?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel gulped. Despite himself, their words were convincing. He could not possibly rally the townspeople to go out and fight the varadul by themselves, but perhaps he could rally the coin to pay these </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">vrak</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to do it. A thought occurred to him. “But… what if you fail?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The older woman smiled, a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. “Well, then your town is doomed. But then, you need not pay the dead.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari scowled at her companion. “We won’t die, and we won’t ask for the coin first. We’ll bring you results, and then you can pay.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The older woman’s smile deepend. “If you don’t... “ She looked around the town casually, but Yngel could feel the threat hanging over him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It won’t come to that,” Sari said firmly. “Please, Chieftain. Accept our offer of help - for your people.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel stared at them for a while, his back against the door to his home. Perhaps he could quickly turn, open the door, seek shelter, and close it behind him - forgetting that these monsters had visited him with an offer. Perhaps their disappearance would also signal the destruction of twelve generations of Orthorans, as the varadul brought their raids into his home. He did not know if this Sari spoke the truth, but Velm - </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> his circumstances - would not lie. He could tell from Velm’s voice that there was little hope for the guard to remove this threat. This seemed the greatest option to him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After all, coffers could be replenished. His people’s lives could not.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I… I accept your offer. These varadul… please kill them. I will pay you the full amount, as long as the threat is removed. This I swear.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari smiled. “Thank you. We will be housed in a tent outside your town’s walls, Chieftain,” he felt intense relief that they were not within the town itself. “You’ll find us there, if you have any questions. If we need to talk to you, we’ll approach you ourselves.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Vrak turned, beginning to discuss among each other in a low voice.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel felt his palpitating heart begin to slow with their departure. A twist of emotions rang through the hollow in his middle. Fear, apprehension, hope, relief and regret all rolled into one. Had he made a mistake? Could this be the solution to his problems? Or had he made a deal with Lovakai himself?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He would need to muster the gold required for their payment. If the varadul did not ruin his village, the vrak - with their dangerous, world-breaking powers - very well could. Another twinge of fear and regret rode through him.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few days later, Yngel had managed to gather the required coin. He had heard nothing from the vrak since then, not even seen them wandering the streets. As expected, the townspeople had been angry at the need to give away their hard-earned coin, for reasons he could not fully explain to them. What could he do, tell them he had placed the fate of their town in the hands of potential murderers and peace-breakers? Everyone knew the dark stories of vrak - their endless war, their desire for bloodshed and vengeance, and their ability to exercise dominion over humanity. Only the Watchers, their headquarters centred in Cilaya, kept them under control.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And yet… If the vrak were willing to kill the varadul for coin, he would pay through the nose to keep his people safe. He would deal with Lovakai himself to not be the leader of the Orthoran that let his people down.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And so faithfully, he accrued three hundred and sixty marks - the most the vrak had asked for - saying it was to hire a group of mercenaries to venture into the countryside and root the varadul out. Velm had questioned him a little, asking about his new solution to kill the varadul, but Yngel spoke as little about it as possible. Friend or not, he did not trust Velm to react well to the idea of dealing with Vrak, even if hunting varadul </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">their purpose.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One day, as Yngel was seated in his study sorting a number of notched sticks from the farmers, his wife peeked inside, looking apprehensive.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Husband,” she said, “there is a strange young foreigner at our door. She says she has news for you. Should I let her in…?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel hurriedly stood from his chair. “No. I will go to meet her. Thank you, my love.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her apprehension did not pass from her face. “Is this news about the… the attacks.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel struggled to come up with a response. “I… It is. She is a mercenary.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A woman mercenary?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes. Now please, I must speak to her.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He quickly excused himself and rushed down the stairs to the doorstep, leaving his wife still looking confused.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sure enough, Sari stood at the bottom of the steps to his home, her arms folded. She no longer wore her cloak, instead dressed in a simple cotton garb, and tall, thigh high boots. Her hands were still wrapped in those gloves, hiding the mark beneath. A rush of revulsion surged through Yngel as he remembered what she was.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You… what do you want?” he said hurriedly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The vrak looked up at him. “We’ve found the nest of the first cluster. I thought you ought to know. Seeing as how you’ve been quietly collecting the money-” how did she know about that? “-I thought it best to keep you updated on our activities. Just to put your mind at ease.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Have you killed any?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari nodded. “Three. The ones left to guard their nest. It’s only a half day’s ride away from your gates, which is good and bad. The good part is we can keep watch over your smaller farms at night.” She broke into a sudden yawn. “The bad thing is that if they ever decide they have enough numbers, you’re within striking distance. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Three. They had killed three, where it had taken Velm six men just to kill two. “Did you lose anyone?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari laughed. “No, we won’t die easily, especially not to bloody fledglings. Anyway, at dawn tomorrow, the Heart- I mean, the other Vrak and I will strike the cluster. With luck, we should put an end to this one once and for all.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And the second… cluster?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her lips thinned at his words. “More troublesome. They appear to have less fledglings and more striders. Makes them more unpredictable. We can’t find where they’ve hidden their nest, and something’s making them difficult to track too. Kariah suspects there’s a tribehead among them - it leads them, makes them smarter - so that one is clearly more dangerous. The uh... Divines are happy with your town. If there really is a tribehead, it's a wonder they haven’t decided you aren’t easy pickings yet.” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari smiled. Perhaps she was trying to be comforting, but Yngel could only think about how she might well be able to turn him inside out as smile at him. He had heard stories that Vrak could do that, if they so wished.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We’ll get them. We don’t give up so easily. Just… Darius says you should post more night guards to your outer farms just in case we miss something. At least five men together, no less. That way, you don’t lose any more innocents than you already have. We leave that up to you though.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari nodded to herself. “I’ll come again when we’ve broken up the first nest. Prepare the first round of payment for then - you’ll probably want to come to our campsite and look at the remains yourself. Then at least you’ll know what the heads look like. Stay safe, Chieftain.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Without another word, the young woman turned about and walked away, back into the street that led to the town gate.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Strangely, Yngel felt hope. Though none of what she’d said about fledglings, striders and tribeheads made any sense to him, she did seem to know what she was talking about. If they really had found the first cluster…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The stories said Vrak were dangerous, powerful and violent, but they never mentioned anything about them being conniving. Perhaps he could extend a measure of trust towards them.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next day, sometime before sundown, his wife peeked her head into his study again. “You have the same visitor again. She is younger than our daughter - is she really a mercenary?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel stood. “Yes, she is.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The doubt did not leave his wife’s eyes. “I think our Clan Guards could break her in two. I imagined mercenaries from the heartland to be more… intimidating.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel laughed weakly. “I… I would not wish anyone to try and fight her. She is… fearsome.” He did not want to imagine what a Vrak might do to any normal person that dared attack them. But he was not prepared to tell his wife who they were really dealing with. Yet.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Please, no more questions. Prepare some of the coin I’ve gathered in the treasury room. I believe that she will require the first round of payment for dealing with the varadul in the countryside.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His wife harrumphed. “There had better be some evidence. I don’t trust these foreigners to keep their word.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If there is any evidence, wife, I will bring some home for you to see. In fact, she will likely bring me to see it now.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do not bring home anything that might drip blood onto the floor. And do not be late coming home or your stew will be cold.” She smiled, and rubbed his shoulder as he passed.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Your wife has your doubts about me,” Sari said as she walked in step beside him. She had informed him that they had broken up the first nest and that there were twelve heads for him to see. Consequently, he carried a small sack filled with a hundred and forty-four gold marks.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As usual, there was still an undercurrent of fear as Yngel spoke to her. “She does not believe you are not mercenary. That is the story I have told her to avoid telling her that you are…” he paused awkwardly. The fear swelled.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari, however, laughed. “That I’m Cursed?” Yngel looked around hurriedly, hoping no one had heard. “Well, fair enough. I was more concerned she might think that you were sleeping with me.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel felt both shock and horror at the idea. He spluttered, “I… I would </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">never</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">… my wife and I have been…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari laughed again, silencing him. It was a pure laugh, without any malice that Yngel could feel. “I know, I could tell by the way she looks at me that she doesn’t think me a threat at all. But does she really believe it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I would never do such a thing. Never. My wife knows it. We have been united more than thirty years, and we trust each other beyond all doubt.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The young woman smiled. “Well, I’m glad you have a happy marriage. I suppose I </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">am</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a little disappointed that my dashing good looks can’t put a dent in anyone’s relationship. But then again,” her tone lost some of its merry edge, “no one would ever sleep with a</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> filthy Cursed</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, would they?” He looked at her face, and saw that she had grown bitter, angry even.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel knew that he should feel terror at that. What would a peace-breaker, a person with Cursed powers do in anger? There was a little fear within that he had offended her somehow. But against all reason, his wife’s words occurred to him - that this young woman, this Sari, was younger than his daughter. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oddly, he began to feel sorry for her. “Your… That has nothing to do with it. I simply would not betray my wife’s trust in that manner. You are a good looking young woman-” what was he saying? She might turn him into a bloody heap, “-and I’m certain you will find a… a man suited for you one… one day.” His words faltered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Truly, what in Divines’ name was he saying? The idea of a vrak breeding and potentially bringing more peace-breakers and power-fueled monsters into the world was absolutely terrifying. His logical brain told him that.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But at the same time, he pitied the idea that a young woman like this would never find love.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari looked at him, her blue eyes narrowing. She pursed her lips and shook her head. She said slowly, “I know you don’t really mean that… but thank you for saying it anyway. Now, let’s hurry. The others are already waiting.”</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari’s campsite was not far from the gate of the village, hidden within a small thicket of trees. As Yngel approached, the recognisable tang of blood wafted across his nose. They walked through a short man-made path before the campground opened up to him, revealing four small tents at the edges and a lit campfire at the centre. The older woman - Kariah, Yngel remembered - worked at the fire, stirring a small, black pot with a wooden spoon. By the right side, on a felled log, sat the brown haired man who had mocked him. He was shirtless, but a large bandage wound across his chest. A younger man, the one who had not spoken a word before, knelt in front of him. As Yngel watched, the younger man dashed red locks out of his eyes and pressed his palms against the older man’s chest.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hold still, or it will hurt even more,” the young man said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Just hurry it up. I’m getting hungry.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the left, Yngel saw what looked like an unrecognisable, bloodied mass; evidently the source of the iron tang that assaulted his nose. Upon steadier inspection, it appeared to be a row of severed lizard heads, arrayed in fashion barely called neat. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I brought him back,” Sari called.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kariah looked up from her pot and smiled. Again, it never touched her eyes. “Good. The stew is almost ready. Now we can kill him and cook him.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel froze.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari scowled. “Stop that. He brought payment, and he trusted me enough to come here without a guard.” Why had he done that again? Of course, because he was too afraid to let anyone know he had been dealing with Lovakai himself in working alongside these Vrak.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do not worry,” the dark haired man said, wincing as the young red hair did </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">something</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to him. “I only eat people at the height of a full moon. That way, their flesh tastes sweetest.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Darius…” Sari warned.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The older man grinned sardonically. “I am joking, of course. Welcome to our camp, Chieftain.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari gestured to the bloodied rows of lizard heads. “Scalebeast - er, varadul heads. Twelve, just as I said. This includes the three I told you about yesterday. A moderately sized cluster. You can investigate them for yourself, if you want.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel did not want to approach, but Sari was gesturing so invitingly and Kariah’s eyes were trained on him, as though daring him to back away. Swallowing a gulp, Yngel moved deeper into the belly of the beasts.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As he neared the rows of varadul heads, he realised there were two different kinds. Five were smaller and sleeker, with sharper snouts. The other seven looked tougher, more brutish, with ridged edges and more compact noses. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why are there two different...” Yngel’s question trailed off. He did not know if he sounded a fool or not. However, his curiosity was beginning to outweigh his fear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Two different heads? Very observant, Chieftain,” Kariah said as she stirred. Her eyes were no longer trained on him. “I believe Sari explained to you the difference between fledglings and striders?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel glanced at Sari, who shook her head. “I didn’t get into the specifics. He doesn’t have to know.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wrong. He should. As a Chieftain, especially in a place where varieties of scalebeasts cross the Argan mountains everyday, he should possess all the knowledge possible to help fight them. Then maybe next time he will not have to rely on… </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">vrak</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to save his people.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Velm knows enough,” Yngel said slowly. “He called those smaller ones yorak.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Judging from his lack of success, Velm knows of them, not about them. Yorak… We call them fledglings. Smaller, faster and more agile. If scalebeasts were people, these would be their dogs. People see them and think to avoid their mouths - but they miss the most dangerous part, which is their legs. If we had brought a whole one, I would show you - they run on twos, and pounce upon their prey faster than an arrow flies from a bow. And the other… striders. When you fight a strider, never think you are fighting a simple beast. Assume it is a man - a faster, stronger, more vicious man. It will do anything to kill you, and it is never alone. They ambush, they stalk, they set traps… They fight to win.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You make them sound invincible.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I am making them sound dangerous - and they are. You would do well to understand that.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Kariah…” Sari said slowly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do you see Darius over there, with the bandage across his chest? We managed to surprise the nest when it returned from their nighttime patrol. They’d killed a pack of wolves and were dragging the carcasses back. We surprised them, with our flashing lights and streaks of fire, but they still managed to retaliate. Darius earned that scar because he assumed a dying strider, cloaked in flames, wouldn’t try to kill him too.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Kariah,” Sari said firmly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But I suppose that wouldn’t matter to a </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Clean</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. What are we, but the bloodhounds to sacrifice to the wolves? If one of us died, it would be in the service of keeping you safe. No mourning - no, you would be </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">grateful</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that we had killed each other. The best result some would say, a Cursed person taking down a bunch of scalebeasts with him making the world a better place all around…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Kariah!” Sari shouted.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kariah had not looked up from her pot. The pace of her stirring had remained the same throughout her rant. Yngel let it wash over him - he did not know what part of it he was absorbing, but he could feel the bitterness and anger boiling over in that very moment.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sorry for my friend’s anger, Chieftain,” Sari began.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But Yngel did not listen. Something strange was happening to him. “Your kind are peace-breakers,” he addressed Kariah. “The history of Vrak is destruction and horror. You were responsible for the War of Calamity, the Bloodshed Years, the </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tragedy of Kunnerk</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, where the world’s chance for peace was desecrated… That was all because of Vrak, of people like yourself. Do you deny those events? Do they not speak to the bloodiness of history, everytime Vrak have gained prominence within it? This is your heritage, your legacy. With all this, can you expect pity everytime one of you dies?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel realised he was angry. But somehow, he was not just angry. He was…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kariah stared at him, with that same smile that did not touch her eyes. She did not seem the least affected.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He looked at Sari. Her head was tilted toward the earthen floor beneath, her eyes downcast.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He saw something. A shining silver tear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thank you,” Kariah said wryly, “For speaking the truth.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari shook her head. She looked up, her weakness gone and her face resolute. She wiped the tear with a single dust of her hand. “Shut up, Kariah. Chieftain, you can leave the money and go. Thank you for honouring your part of the deal. I’ll let you know when we find the second nest.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel hesitated. The words of his wife echoed again: </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">younger than our daughter</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and they did not seem to leave him. “I…” he said, stepping toward her, not sure what he wanted to say.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari took a step backward, shaking her head. “That’s all there is for now, Chieftain. Please, leave the money and go.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel placed the small sack of gold on the forest floor. He turned away and walked to the entrance of the clearing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Before you leave us, Chieftain,” Kariah’s voice called, making him pause. “I believe the Eliyan people incited the massacre at Syakal, not two decades ago. I think that from now on, I shall blame that on you as well.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel did not respond. He simply continued walking, leaving the Vrak behind.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was too preoccupied with the realisation that all his fear had gone, leaving only confusion and sadness.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That night, he lay in bed, staring into the darkness.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His wife shifted in her sleep, flipping around beneath the sheets to face him. He looked at her, and realised her eyes were open, staring at him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why do you not sleep?” he said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I always could sense your inner turmoil,” she said shrewdly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Inner turmoil? Nothing of the sort.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You cannot lie to me. I see your every emotion.” There was amusement in her voice.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He sighed. He turned his head back toward the ceiling, feeling the soft down of his pillow.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If…” he said suddenly. “If you discovered one day… that I had been a Vrak my whole life, what would you do?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He heard rustling in the darkness, but he could not see what his wife was doing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do not say such dangerous things, love. I would think you were hinting at something. Besides, we are far past the age where the Watchers believe a Vrak can manifest.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Humor me, I beg of you. If I revealed to you that somehow, I had kept my… my vrak-kal hidden from you all these years, how would you react?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For a time, silence reigned. It was a stupid question, and he immediately regretted asking it. If anything, he was not sure why he had asked it, but Kariah’s words, and his wife’s words about Sari, kept cycling through his head like the wheels of a merchant’s cart. And at the centre of it all now, was Sari’s single, shining tear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I think I would still love you,” his wife said slowly. “I would find it difficult, but my heart tells me I would still choose to be with you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But would you not be afraid of me? Would you not fear the things that I could do, now you know I have such dangerous powers?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“My husband, you have not done anything to me in the last thirty years. Why would that change if you suddenly told me now?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel frowned to himself. “I could be the second coming of another Tragedy.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You live in a backward town near the edge of the known world. Why would the Tragedy have anything to do with you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nodded. Why would the Tragedy have anything to do with him? He was not Vrak.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He thought of Sari. What did the Tragedy have to do with her? Well, she was Vrak. But she was also younger than his own daughter. He turned in his bed, closing his eyes and trying to sleep. In his dreams, he dreamt of running - running from a dark, unknowable force that followed behind no matter how far he ran.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two days after the first payment, Sari visited again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He opened the door to find her standing there, arms folded, dressed in the same garb he had seen her last.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Welcome, Sari.” he said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We’ve found the second cluster,” she said curtly. “Just to let you know, it’s a big one. Larger than even we anticipated. We strike at dawn tomorrow, though it’ll probably take more than a single strike. Get more payment ready - I suspect there might be twenty of them.” She turned to leave.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel felt a sudden sense of urgency. “Wait,” he called.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She turned. Her face was expressionless. “What?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He struggled with his words. “I… I apologise for what I said that day. It was unfair of me. I have had some time to think and-”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Words are empty, Chieftain.” Sari looked at him, face still expressionless. “What you said… It’s just what everyone feels. You were just brave enough to say it at that moment. Don’t bother feeling guilt - I’ve travelled far and wide, and it’s the same everywhere. In fact, it's worse.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel shook his head. “No. It was wrong.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It was </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">honest</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. And it holds truth - a truth I’m coming to accept. Good day, Chieftain. Please be ready with the payment.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She turned to go.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Have all of you… faced twenty of them before?” he called, one last time. Immediately, he hated himself for it. But there was a struggle within him now that he couldn’t run from. They were Vrak, why should he care how dangerous it was? But he did, and he couldn’t stop himself.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She turned her head. “No. But if we don’t survive, you won’t have to pay us, will you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He felt startled. That was not the reason he had asked at all. But before he could come up with a proper response, she had stalked off into the streets, back towards the gates. Only when he closed the door behind him, thinking of how they could possibly win against twenty of those scaled horrors, did he realise that throughout their conversation, he had not felt one whit of fear at her turning him inside out.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel waited impatiently over the next few days. Through his window, he looked constantly at the Sun, rising and setting, rising and setting. He paced his room during his free moments, unable to settle himself. Every moment he wasn’t occupied with settling the affairs of the town, his thoughts turned to the group, supposedly still hunting the varadul in the forests and hills. He discarded the idea of going to their campsite, not wanting to attract attention to their living space. The people had begun murmuring that he had taken their money and wasted it, since they saw not a hint of the mercenaries he spoke of - but he found that he cared little for their opinions. All he wondered was why Sari and the rest were taking so long to inform him of their victory.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the second day, when they still had not returned, a horrible thought occurred to him. What if they had failed? Was it possible that they had actually wiped each other out? The idea saddened him greatly, and he found himself praying to the Divines that it had not ended that way. Velm had told him of the state of the bodies the varadul had consumed - no one deserved to die above ground, their corpses serving as food for the horrible beasts.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was only on the morning of the fourth day, when he was waiting at his chair by the door, that a knock came at last.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He stood and opened it himself.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was one of the Clan Guards. He looked curious.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A woman is at the gate, Chieftain. She says that the varadul have been dealt with, and that she expects payment. Are these the mercenaries you spoke of at the Clan Meeting last week?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel sighed in relief. What had taken them so long? “Did she say how many varadul were slain, Clan Guard?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Twenty-two, Chieftain. It’s a lot of coin… Do you require an escort?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twenty-two! It must have been quite a battle. He frowned; he had not expected to have to pay so much - he would have to dip into his own coffers for this - but at least the vrak had returned, and his people would be safe.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why did Sari not come herself?</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> He wondered. No matter. “There is no need for you to wait. I will be there shortly.”</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He approached the entrance to the gate, the heavy coin pouch in his hands - two hundred and sixty-four golden marks. A hefty price to pay, but a necessary one. Yngel wondered what he should say to them, besides giving thanks. At this moment the depth of his gratitude seemed to make all his words underwhelming.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He would offer his sincere thanks, at the very least.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Here you are, Chieftain,” the Clan Guard called. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari stood by the gates, watched by the wary Clan Guard. She was dressed in the very same clothes she wore for her visits every time, but there was no stain of blood or battle on her. She must have a different set of clothes for fighting varadul.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hail, Sari.” He called.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She turned. Her face was resolute, carried like an iron mask, the rest of her framed as a petrified statue. But instantly, Yngel could tell she had been crying. Others would not see it, for Sari hid it better than many, but the Chieftain had a lifetime of reading faces, discerning emotion, and comforting children.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was a broken child.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I brought the payment,” he said slowly, wondering if he should ask what had happened.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s good,” Sari responded mechanically. “You will want to see the heads of course. They’re a little old and dried, but they’re all there. Thirty-four. You’ve already paid for the first twelve of course… We counted the last bag and it was exact. This one should be two hundred and sixty four marks… I’ll take the time to count them later. The heads - right. Yes, this way. It’s in the same clearing.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was shocked by how distracted she was. “Slow down, Sari.” He said gently. “If the varadul are all dead, then there is no rush. You have lifted a great burden off my shoulders.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari did not respond. She simply turned and left for the thicket. The Clan Guard looked confused.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Stay on watch. I’ll return shortly.” He said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He followed after her. Outside the entrance of the clearing were four horses, all tied to a single tree. The horses eyed him balefully, and he avoided their gaze. The smell of blood was now replaced by the smell of decay, and it was a wonder the horses did not balk and frenzy at the stench. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He walked the pathway between the trees and came to a mostly empty clearing. The campfire no longer burned, most of it ash and the rest covered with dirt and charcoal. The tents had been packed away, assumedly into the horses’ saddle bags, and the twelve severed heads of the varadul had been cleared. Instead, the felled log had been cleared and replaced by a set of twenty-two heads. Yngel did a quick recount, but he did not believe that the Vrak would try and deceive him. There were many larger heads - striders, they had called them - than smaller ones, but one stood out above all, covered in a mass of scale-horns and somehow more brutish than the rest. Its yellow eye had no gleam, but it still held his gaze somehow.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What is that? It is unlike the others.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s a tribehead. I mentioned before; they make clusters smarter, because they’re more intelligent themselves. I suppose we never expected one to actually be out here, though we really should have.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Where are…” he said carefully. His heart sank as he looked past her, to the earth where the tents had been.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were three freshly dug mounds.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“They’re…” the young woman choked, shaking her head and quickly steadying herself. “They did what they had to. The payment, please.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel didn’t hear her. His eyes remained on the mounds. He had spent a lifetime discerning other people’s feelings, but at that moment he couldn’t seem to understand his own. They were vrak. They died doing what they were supposed to do. They had taken the varadul down with them. The world was safer without them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If the town knew, that was what everyone would think. That was what the world had taught him to think.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His gaze returned to Sari’s face. She was shaking slightly now, expression empty. Her outstretched hand was there, waiting for the payment. She looked to be holding back a great deal, but tears still streamed down her face.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t… don’t make this harder than it has to be. Just... give me the coin so I can leave.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lovakai burn this unjust world</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, he thought.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How did it happen?” he asked sadly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“They ambushed</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">us. They lived in a burrow, built by themselves. We thought we knew their route back, so we trapped the entrance. Lay in wait at separate places. Darius died before he even knew what happened. Hagus got off the warning just in time. Kariah fought like mad to save me but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her voice froze. She pulled back her hand, clenching it at her side as fists. She shouted, “Why do you care?! Just give me the coin. The beasts are all dead. You counted them, haven’t you?! They won’t trouble you anymore. We fulfilled our end of the bargain. Now fulfill yours so I can leave.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel extended the pouch and she snatched it from him. “Why did you bury them yourself? Is this why you took so long to return?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m a Scar,” she said. “My troubles don’t matter to anyone else. Only news of my success counts. It’s what Kariah said.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A horrible thing to say.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But the truth. With her, it was always about truth. She kept me alive, so I’ll honour her words.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This has nothing to do with honour. You could have come to me. I would have helped you, somehow.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She stood there, hands clutching the pouch, tears still streaming down an expressionless face. “Liar. No one wants to help a filthy Cursed. We were alone in the world, but at least we had each other. Now… now I’m…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel could not help himself. He stepped forward, and pulled her into a hug. At first, she resisted, trying to push him away. But as he smoothed her hair, she began to cry. Not just tears anymore, but steady, uncontrolled weeping.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel remembered when his daughter had wept at the loss of her husband, not more than two Suns into their marriage. It had been similar to this. He had held her then, too, smoothing tears out of her and wondering how to make the world better.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He just had never thought he would do it for a vrak, young woman or not.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They sat on the earth, opposite each other. The smell of decaying varadul corpses lingered in the background.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Make sure you bury those heads as soon as possible,” Sari mumbled, wiping at her face. “The smell could attract more, if there are any lurking in the countryside.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I will have the clansmen do that. You need not worry yourself over it.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thank you. I’m sorry I dragged you into… into my sorrow.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do not be. I am sorry I asked this of you. If I had known it would end with your friends perishing... I would not have done it.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari shook her head. “I almost believe you.” She raised her gaze to meet his. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Where will you go now?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari hesitated. “There are other Scars. I’ll have to find others willing to take me on, or others willing to join me. I can’t hunt scalebeasts on my own. I’ll return to the heartlands, and look for a way to start anew. There’s always a way.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You could stay here. I could house you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari looked at him disbelievingly. “You can’t be serious.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel held her gaze steadily.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She looked amazed. “You </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">are</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> serious. You’re mad.” She shook her head. “As attractive as it sounds, I can’t do that to you or your wife. How long before people find out what I am? How long before the mobs come crashing at your door, looking to root out the Cursed being you’ve decided to save? I’ve seen it happen, and I won’t let that happen to you. Not everyone is as understanding as you.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel felt troubled, and it clearly showed on his face.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari shook her head. “Stop feeling sorry for me. Killing those scalebeasts and keeping your town safe… that’s something only </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can do. You call us Vrak - I assume it’s some sort of dirty word in your language - but we are proud to call ourselves Scars. And even if you hate me-”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I do not hate you,” he said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Even if others hate me, I’ll live this out. This task gives my Curse a purpose. And like my friends, I’ll carry it to my early grave.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She turned to look at the three mounds. “They all knew they would die on a hunt, but they knew it was better than dying to a mob.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yngel could feel her determination. “If there is no changing your mind, at least give me until noon before you leave. I’ll prepare what I can to make the journey easier for you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari nodded. “Thank you. That will help a lot.”</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At noon, Sari was seated upon her horse. Her panniers had been filled, and her water sack was full. She looked down at Yngel from the saddle, the stain of tears in her eyes. But there was a stronger resolve there now, like iron that had been cast into steel. Yngel reached into his pack and pulled out another pouch of coin, reaching out to hand it to her.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’s this?” she asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“More coin. For the road. It will make your journey easier too.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She snorted gently. Her hand pushed the coin pouch back toward him. “I’ve already been paid, Chieftain. I don’t need any more pity.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He smiled. “Yngel. Call me Yngel.” Somehow, he had known she would do this, so he had hidden another pouch in the panniers. Hopefully she would find it when she began running out of food. “It is a long road to Cilaya, to Corlan Cal. What I have given will not get you that far. Are you prepared?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The young woman nodded. “You’ve given me so much already. Thank you. No stranger has ever been this kind to me.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Not a stranger. A friend. Do not forget the Orthoran Clan. You will always be welcome here.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She spurred her horse a short distance, and stopped.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You know. Kariah was right - you did show me a truth. But somehow, I don’t think it was the truth she meant. Goodbye Yngel, and may the Divines bless your town.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“May the winds favour your road, Sari.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With that, the young woman rode away into the distance. Yngel watched her go, descending down the hill into the thick forest that wound its way south, towards the capital city of Eliya and back into Eastern Cilaya. He wondered if he would ever see her again.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sari did not look back once. </span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-61141293344719892172017-08-24T13:49:00.004-07:002017-08-25T00:38:54.182-07:00A Heartache's SerenadeIf the world is joined by one giant sky,<br />
Then what is this distance between you and I?<br />
<br />
If lives are connected by feeling and memory,<br />
Then why do the lines between feel so empty?<br />
<br />
Though I would challenge that endless sky<br />
To bridge the gaps and sew the lines<br />
I would only be cherishing that simple lie<br />
That everything would be proper, in time<br />
<br />
If I pray for a star that would fall,<br />
Would my wishes come true after all?<br />
<br />
If I stretched out my hand to grasp,<br />
Would the touch between us be able to last?<br />
<br />
Reaching beyond my measured means<br />
For any sort of contact with you, beyond<br />
A fruitless and soulless task it may seem<br />
But I've no greater longing than to carry on<br />
<br />
If together, we stepped forward through that endless space,<br />
What catastrophe would occur, if our hands interlaced?<br />
<br />
If together, we met through all interference,<br />
What would happen to the laws and the consequence?<br />
<br />
You've been erased from me, every last sign<br />
But nothing withholds me from thinking<br />
I'll not wait for something great or benign<br />
To assist me in my desperate quest of seeking<br />
<br />
If I could only begin to understand,<br />
Would our lives be entwined in the next, wide land?<br />
<br />
If I could be greater, and mightier, and grand,<br />
Would I live for tomorrow, and be able to stand?<br />
<br />
The time when our hearts would meet<br />
Beneath blazing gold and burning azure<br />
That is the time that forever I seek<br />
For none other has any greater allure<br />
<br />
If the world is joined by one giant sky,<br />
Could I cover the distance between you and I?<br />
<br />
If lives are connected by feeling and memory,<br />
Could I fill in these lines, and complete our assembly?<br />
<br />
There are no worlds that can fill this space<br />
There are no words that can slow my pace<br />
There is no line that I cannot cross<br />
There is no time that I have lost<br />
There is no sky I cannot fly<br />
There is no lie I will not try<br />
<br />
Our lives are connected by feeling and memory,<br />
Of hope, of love, of hate, of fear,<br />
Emotions that fill these lines, not empty<br />
<br />
The world is joined by one big sky<br />
And I know now, that the stars that blaze above<br />
They're meant for you and I.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-58649777704777478902017-06-23T14:21:00.001-07:002017-06-23T14:21:27.435-07:00Hymn of the Dragon's Calling<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Terror stains the darkening sky</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Horrors of worlds that cannot die</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Winged monsters of coldest nightmare</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
From savage lands, where no men dare</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sweeping death, a rampant plague</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For mortal men, there is no aid</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Who steps forth, when the bravest hide?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Who can withstand the coming tide?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But where one stands, others rise</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
No matter the cost, no matter the price</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To combat the wrath of ancient gods</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And their servants of old, the raging hordes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
From the ancient powers, knowledge anew</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Of love, of tears, of a human view</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Humanity suffers for its salvation</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Till pain unites every nation</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And where one monster becomes a friend</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A great host will follow to no end</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Where gods become alike to men</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Where god-heroes rise from their den</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And truly then, the war begins</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A worthy battle, of which bards will sing</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Bravery true, and friendship strong</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To cleanse the world, and right the wrongs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For the First rides forth, on Dragon Wings</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A message of hope and glory, he brings</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In a darkening sky of horrors unfurled,</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Some horrors will save this world.</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-73426285799160348632017-05-09T23:05:00.004-07:002017-05-09T23:05:58.849-07:00The Large Black Truth<div style="text-align: left;">
His friends wanted to go out the next day, and they were enthusiastically discussing where to meetup. Liam looked on in horror as his phone screen scrolled with line upon line of code, all making the messages that tore at him like paper mache knives. Each one was filled with social compulsion, each drawing him like a strings hooked to his skin. They were happy, they were angry, they were sad, they were glad. But in all that, they wanted to go out and have some 'fun'</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He'd already planned out his next day, even if it wasn't anything truly important. There were things in his life he needed to sort out, pieces of him he had to sift through in order to figure out what his next step was. Didn't these people realise that there were places he needed to be? Things he needed to do that were more important than some social times replete with saccharine compliments and 'heart-wrenching' goodbyes? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He typed a message to the group.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Sounds like a great idea. I'm down."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
They were discussing where to eat lunch that day. Liam didn't really care, or at least, he didn't really want to. He stood on the bus as it rattled and swayed, jerking him back and forth as he hung on to the railings with an iron grip. His friends were all gathered against the window, chattering and laughing with as much forced glee as they could muster; they couldn't seem to see it, but he could - he could see everything that wasn't, even if people told him that such things weren't there. Sarah didn't like Janice, but she hid it for the sake of the others, and that put a strain on both their relationships with Jason, who was playing both of them at the same time.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Waffletown, someone said, but was immediately met with another's disagreement, claiming that waffles weren't filling and that they were breakfast food. Pastamania, someone else would throw in, and the entire group would round on that person, jabbing and bullying top relinquish that person from that terrible idea they'd had in the first place. Liam watched them, feeling his wallet in his pants weigh down heavily against his thigh, still light and unfilled from the previous time they'd gone for lunch. Though he did somewhat enjoy their presence, it was difficult to remain friends with them when all of them weren't as thrifty as he was. Or at least, weren't in a position to have to be as thrifty as he was.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Suddenly, they all turned to him and suggested as one,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The Steakhouse</div>
<div>
- the most expensive place possible.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He looked at all of them. His eyes widened in surprise at their unison, his heart pounded as they pierced it with their steady gazes, lips peeled and teeth bared as though snarling at him though he knew they must be smiling. He knew that he had just enough money for the day, and spending beyond that budget was going to set him back for dinner and the next day. He knew that he'd go hungry, if he refused them.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Sure, it's alright."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They'd eaten their fill, gone through the necessary motions of eating, laughing, talking and paying, and now they sought to enjoy their time together further, though Liam could feel the tension increasing with every moment they spent together. It overlaid all their interactions, like a sickly-sweet honey over the ropes that were meant to bind them together; but Liam was the only one that was truly aware of it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Liam was tired, and he didn't really want to be outside anymore. It was only late in the afternoon, but heavy spending on steaks and chops had burned through his willpower just like his wallet, and he was thinking about how much energy he'd have to conserve in order to get through the next day of school. But his fellow out-mates weren't thinking about any of that, only deciding where was a good place to further bond over. At least, they were thinking about where would be a place they could show of the closeness of their relationship to others.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He wasn't happy about anything, for right then, nothing sounded more comforting than the four walls of his home. Nothing could be more attractive then saying, right there, we could truly enjoy the time we have together if it was more limited. Let us depart for our various destinations, happy in the fact that at some point, we spent time together.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Wanna head to the arcade? someone said, and was met with a chorus of agreement. They all turned to him, eyes shining in a manner that sickened him to his bone; it was too bright to be genuine, to full of life to be real.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Yeah, sounds like fun."</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They stood in the arcade, surrounded by music and noise that pounded their eardrums relentlessly, going beyond the natural tolerance of any human, but meeting the natural tolerance of those that sought the void of thoughtlessness, or those that wanted to pretend to it. Here and there, Liam spied out degenerates and loners, sitting in their corners with their backs hunched and their eyes lidded, spending away all their money without any concern for the well-being of themselves, or perhaps of others under their care. The slots hungrily consumed the coins like dirty children, slurping up their food with an insatiable desire that resulted in those flashing lights across the screen - temporary and futile.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They walked over to a gun game, fake laughter still in their mouths as they attempted to maintain some semblance of relationship in the cover of that overpowering white noise. They riffled through their pockets, bringing out all the coins that the possibly could to demonstrate their willingness to spend time and money at this arcade station, but they didn't fool Liam. He could see the reluctance in their fingers, the turning of their knuckles, the tightness in their jaws. He knew that none of them were willing to spend, only willing to be there for the sake of the others.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He wanted to interrupt, he wanted to stuff the money back in their mouths and drag them out, listening to them screaming in protest, or perhaps in relief that they wouldn't have to continue this charade any longer. Perhaps then, he would finally be able to get this black feeling out of his chest. Perhaps then, they would finally stop pestering him with their bright eyes, laughing mouths and gaping wounds.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Coins were slotted in, but immediately they turned to him: Want to play first?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Of course; I'm going to outscore all of you."</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He walked into the living room, tired to the bone. His eyes swept the entire length of the area, spying out the dirty dishes, the filthy laundry, the scattered remnants of failed job applications and wanting resumes. It wasn't just his eyes that was assaulted; his nose could detect the scent of unwashed bodies, long overdue for a cleaning that would certainly revitalize her life. Stale food leftover in the dishes also wafted under his nose, and he knew that if he looked in those bowls and plates he left out, he would find that it had been barely touched - perhaps with one or two bites taken out of them.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The flashing lights of the television splayed over the couch in psychedelic patterns, illuminating the thin form of a woman slumped in its embrace, head thrown a little to the side and dirty hair scattered like wriggling worms against the earth of the backrest. Brown, glass bottles were heavily concentrated around her, empty now but once filled with a liquid that not only made Liam's head spin, but made him nauseous as well. He could see that one was still wrapped in the crook of her arm by her side, like a treasured token, or a box of money. She treated them one and the same.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He leant over the armrest, but the woman was silent. He gave her a peck on her cheek, trying not to notice the needle in her arm.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"I love you mom."</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-50271196959885074272017-02-05T19:27:00.000-08:002017-02-06T08:08:43.466-08:00Dissociation She opened the door into the classroom, her eyes open but her mind shut. The students stared at her as she walked in, the music pounding her eardrums relentlessly. She looked at all of them, their eyes half-closed as the droning of the lecturer continued over her dramatic entrance. She sighed, and sat herself down.<br />
Reaching down, she pulled an assortment of books, pens and papers from her bag, placing them upon the table carelessly. The unfocused eyes of her peers studied her every move, seeming to revel in her tardiness and enjoying a spectacle of mess and incompetence. She ignored them all. The music was ramping up, and she nodded her head to the beat, as though it was cheering her on as she set about the impossible task of confronting life.<br />
Finally, her studying peripherals were in place. She sat herself up, looking forward to face the lecturer whose attention was more on the blackboard than the students he was supposedly educating. Words that made up information were plastered across the board, but it made as much sense to her as the world to a child. The lecturer turned, his mouth moving and his hands gesturing, but she could hear nothing.<br />
The other students had shifted their attention once more, except for the one sitting next to her. The boy smiled at her and opened his mouth, his teeth seeming to clack and his tongue moving in the manner of speech. But the music had reached a crescendo, and it dubbed over his mannerisms with discordant melodies and riotous singing. She stared, observing his movements but comprehending little. Perhaps he was praising how she looked, or maybe he was scolding her for being late. Perhaps the music was too distracting for discernment, or maybe she just didn't care.<br />
She turned away from the boy, looking forward with a strange emotion boiling within. It was something between anger, sadness, loneliness and laziness. It was a dangerous concoction that swirled and bubbled, steaming over her heart with unforgiving ire.<br />
She looked out at the crowds around her, and let the music wash over her ears, slowly decreasing in intensity, but a comfort nevertheless. She stared at the lecturer, who was now looking at her with a mixture between curiosity and annoyance. She glanced at her notes, which seemed to stare back at her with judgement for their obvious disuse. She reached for her earpieces, and stopped.<br />
Maybe sometime she would face the conglomeration in her chest with absolute certainty. Perhaps one day she would face each member of the student body with sharp eyes and a sharper mind, removing them from their adverse states and bringing them into perfect enlightenment. In some distant time, she might confront the lecturer for his wrongful dissertations and hypocritical thinking, unveiling the truth of his terrible worldview. One day, she might confront the world for all the problems that it gave each being, for all the sorrows she experienced and all the fury that it incited; for the pains it gave her and everyone else.<br />
Maybe one day, but not today. Her hand fell from her ears as she placed them on the table, letting the earpiece remain. She let the next track play, slowly resting her head in her arms. The students stared at her, the lecturer glared at her, the world frowned at her, but she closed her eyes. Someday, but not today.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-22358198527566009582017-02-05T18:28:00.003-08:002017-02-05T18:28:59.822-08:00Wishes to PassStanding at this precipice<br />
At the edge of darkest darkness<br />
Before the peak where the world ends<br />
Between the shadow of death<br />
And the light of life<br />
Can you still hear my tired song?<br />
<br />
Content to play second fiddle<br />
Always in view, but never seen<br />
Slow to move, slow to speak<br />
A terrifyingly weak existence<br />
Below this meek persistence<br />
I grew ever smaller through time<br />
<br />
Even so, swallowing this bitter pill<br />
This proving of the death march<br />
This void encapsulated soul<br />
Caught between desires and desire<br />
Trapped in the box of personal design<br />
I'd scream to leave but I'll stay inside<br />
<br />
But then a lens provided eyes<br />
A widened view for a lower price<br />
Sweet relief from lonely life<br />
The bigger world in a whole new light<br />
But the shadow's there, just weaker<br />
I knew I never should have wandered<br />
<br />
A majesty too bright<br />
Not illuminating, but blinding sight<br />
A pain too real, a life too light<br />
Stardrop honey, moonbeam jam<br />
The throes too sweet for dying men<br />
I'd let myself taste once again<br />
<br />
But darkness shall always<br />
outlast the light<br />
No matter the strength<br />
No matter the time<br />
Beyond it, the cycle always lies<br />
I'll sink again, but that's alright<br />
<br />
So please forget this wretched child<br />
Weak and whimpering,<br />
pale and sickening<br />
A failure, a fraud, a hopeless fool<br />
It is undeserving of anything real<br />
I'm nothing but a simple tool<br />
<br />
For though you spoke of future<br />
A brighter time and better place<br />
Of hope for it to grow and nurture<br />
Couldn't you see the loathsome truth?<br />
All the hope that was left<br />
What I'd stored for myself<br />
<br />
I'd long given to you.<br />
<br />
<b>Farewell</b>.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-16741553447051967812017-01-05T18:37:00.004-08:002017-01-05T18:37:52.010-08:00Important Conversations<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d spoken a hundred thousand times to the statue but since
the moment I’d first met it, its responses were always stone cold. Not that
they were lacking in content, but there’d always been an undercurrent of apathy
and disinterest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What would you like for lunch today?” I once asked, and the
reply was stronger than silence could ever have been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Cereal is not a lunch food, statue, but even if it was we
can’t make any, seeing as how you forgot to buy the milk the other day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead of apologising, the statue immediately discussed the
current state of political affairs. However, it was filled with so many disingenuous
assertions that I knew it didn’t believe in half the things it was saying. In
fact, I knew nothing of politics and I could understand a little of what <i>he </i>was saying, which was already a big
red flag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I interrupted it, “yes that’s all very interesting, but what
about lunch?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a while later that I found myself eating cereal by
the bedside, having taken the time to purchase milk for myself. Perhaps I
should have done so from the beginning; the process would have been so much
faster. I laid the bowl in front of the statue but it refused to touch it. “Don’t
you know that cereal has lots of protein? How will you grow big and strong?” I
questioned, but there was no answer. How could there be? I was completely
reasonable; any response from it would have been the opposite, on account of my
being right.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead, the statue responded with a long monologue about
the intricacies of the public transportation system. I countered with an
equally unrelated quote from the journal of meteorology and climatology,
stating that global warming would significantly change the landscape of
housing. There was no rebuttal, for I had won simply on account of being more
researched.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It feels as though I have won this argument,” I said
smugly. The statue did not reply, and I knew it was sulking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
In this manner we passed the day, bantering uselessly with
baseless information neither of us knew or had ever sought out. It was a relationship
founded on shaky ground, both poor in substance and in authenticity, but it was
one I maintained for the sake of future times, when the statue might be more
passionate and receptive about things that really mattered.<o:p></o:p></div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-65987480610275496662016-12-18T20:33:00.004-08:002016-12-18T20:38:00.689-08:00An Item of Significance As Clark stared outside the window, the woman behind the desk continued to punch numbers into the keyboard with relentless efficiency. He could hear the unforgiving clicks of the peripheral, its cold, plastic frame resisting her fingers as she continued to key in his information.<br />
<div>
He sighed. He really would have preferred to be at home right now, but his mother had given him two choices: obtain his bank card, or lose his computer privileges- so really, she had given him no choice at all. With her nagging following him, he'd left the house before she could say the words that would actually bind him and his blasted conscience, grumbling his way to the nearest bank outlet. </div>
<div>
What felt like years later he was still standing there, thinking about all the (relatively) important things he could have been doing instead. The videos he could be watching, the games he could be playing, the things he could be drawing… certainly activities infinitely more significant and meaningful than this dull process of endless waiting for something he didn't even care about!</div>
<div>
The woman didn't seem to notice the boredom that painted his face. Perhaps she was purposefully ignoring it, or she would have increased the pace she was working at. "Alright that's the account transfer complete," she said in a robotic, melodic voice. "Just type in a 6 digit number of your choice in the keypad over there, and I'll have your card ready in another few minutes." </div>
<div>
He grunted in what he hoped was an appreciative manner, which was difficult considering all the seething that boiled under his skin. He didn't even think about the six numbers, slamming in a random code he'd probably remember later, maybe. He just wanted to be home right then, and anything that sped the process was more than welcome.</div>
<div>
The woman didn't even flinch at his aggressive speed that denoted his lack of consideration. She simply smiled, nodded, and continued her work. He went back to staring outside the window once more, truly beginning to comprehend the phrase, 'bored out of one's skull.' An eternity later, she materialised behind the desk (had she left? He hadn't even noticed) and handed him a shiny yellow card plastered with numbers and logos. </div>
<div>
"Here's your debit card, sir, thank you for your patience. We hope you enjoy this free service by Your Friendly Local Bank! A friendly reminder; please do not misplace or damage the card, as a police report will have to be made. Furthermore, the creation of the next card will be charged on your account. Thank you, and have a nice day!" Stifling a sigh of relief, he swiped the card from her fingers and stalked out the glass doors with no delay. The feeling of freedom and productivity was almost palpable: he was finally free of this irritating, unwelcome responsibility! </div>
<div>
He stuffed the card into his pocket thoughtlessly, whistling as he walked down the pavement back home. The cars on the road seemed a little brighter, the day felt slightly cheerier, and the people looked marginally friendlier. He wondered which game he should play when he reached home. There was an RPG he'd bought ages ago gathering dust on his shelf, but he'd recently been addicted to a platformer that continually challenged him… </div>
<div>
Out of nowhere, a man in a sequined vest jumped at him, brandishing a straight, black and white stick in artistic swirls and twirls. "Ho there!" the man shouted. He accompanied his greeting with a deep bow, removing the ridiculous top hat from his head and placing it across his chest as he did so. Clark's first reaction was to recoil in shock, but the emotion soon faded into excitement when he realised who it was: a Magic Man!<br />
"Greetings, mortal," the man said as he straightened himself. His hat was replaced on his head with a garish amount of flourish. "I am Calumnia Machiniato, virtuoso of the four winds and prodigy of the transformative arts! Today is your lucky day; for today, I have chosen to favour you with my mastery of the metaphysical!"<br />
Clark laughed and clapped his hands together. Magic Men always gave such superfluous introductions, but there were far fewer as the years went on, and he'd always been fascinated by them and their magical abilities.<br />
The excitement seemed to please Calumnia, as he smiled and spread his arms. "You seem ecstatic mortal, and you should be! I have powers other practitioners only dream of, and I feel generous enough to show a few today! What would you like to see first? My repertoire is expansive..."<br />
Clark pointed at the ridiculous hat on the Calumnia's head. "Make a rabbit!" he said with an almost childlike disposition. Without hesitation, the Magic Man pulled his hat off his head and reached within. After a short struggle, he hauled a snow white rabbit out by the ears.<br />
Clark shouted in glee. The Magic Man smiled and replaced the rabbit on his head, covering it with the hat. "Child's play, mortal. What would you like to see next?"<br />
"Make some cloth!"<br />
Calumnia obliged. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out unnatural amounts of colourful cloth, tossing it carelessly to the side whilst smiling all the while. Clark was thrilled; he picked the cloth off the pavement and rubbed it into his palms, checking if it was real. "You don't see to be able to give me a challenge mortal. It appears that I must show you something beyond your imagination. Tell me, do you have a fifty dollar bill?"<br />
Nodding excitedly, Clark, whipped out a week's worth of his lunch money without hesitation. He pressed the scrunched up bill into the man's hand and stepped back, awaiting the grand spectacle. Calumnia smiled mysteriously, and raised the bill high into the air between his two fingers. "You have given me something incredible mortal, for within all things there is life, to varying degrees. With the gift I have been given, I can see this bill has an especial quality of significance, and so I will restore the life that it has. Behold!"<br />
Calumnia raised his other hand and slapped the bill into his palm, squashing it and making a loud clap that jerked Clark into jumping. Calumnia closed his eyes in intense concentration and waved his arms about his head in a ridiculous manner, mumbling strange words under his breath all the while. As he did so, Clark swore that the Magic Man's hands began to glow. The world around seemed to bristle with energy, and goosebumps ran up and down Clark's skin as Calumnia continued his chanting and waving.<br />
With a final shout and a swift movement, the Magic Man threw his hands behind his head, and threw them forward again, splitting them apart and releasing...<br />
A butterfly!<br />
The butterfly was not normal however, the pattern on its wings were exactly those of a fifty dollar bill! It flew around Calumnia's head for a while, before resting on Clark's shoulder. Awed and slightly scared, he stiffened, trying to get a closer look at the now-living money without moving his head.<br />
"That, is my ultimate power, mortal. Giving life, to the lifeless," Calumnia whispered dramatically. The butterfly left Clark's shoulders to rest on Calumnia's own. "I know you have been impressed by my unparalleled power, so I leave you with this."<br />
Calumnia tossed a shiny coin toward Clark, who snatched it out of the air and looked at it. Calumnia's own face was printed on it. "A keepsake, to remind you of the power that exists within me, and within this world. Tell your associates, and I can be there."<br />
Clark nodded and Calumnia marched past him, his sequined vest glimmering in the sunlight that left colourful imprints on Clark's eyes. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Clark once more set off for home without looking back once. If he had, he might have caught Calumnia stuffing a fifty dollar bill down his pocket.<br />
<br />
Back at home, Clark changed and dumped all his dirty laundry into the collective basket, rushing up the stairs to his room. He pulled out an unused photo frame from his drawers and pulled out the back. Carefully, he removed the insignia coin from his pocket and taped it on, replacing it within the photo frame and setting it on his table. He smiled happily; that had been the best Magic Man he had ever seen, and it was definitely the highlight of his day.<br />
He turned on his computer, logging into his social media accounts and bragging about the great experience that he'd had to all his friends, all the while shooting glances at the coin that reminded him of the significance of that day.<br />
It was of great surprise and displeasure to him when his mom stormed into his room an hour a later, a wet and now-useless debit card clutched in her fingers.</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-31145176516658053762016-10-01T21:36:00.002-07:002016-10-01T21:40:35.221-07:00A Memory of Bliss "Hold close to my side. I don't want you wandering off again, alright?"<br />
<div>
Jason looked up at his mother, slightly confused.</div>
<div>
"I mean it. I don't want to spend an hour leading a manhunt again. Just stay close to me, okay?"</div>
<div>
Jason did as he was told. As he clutched at the arm of his mother, the world passed him by, blurry and nondescript. Strangers were faceless and unknowable, full of motivations and knowledge he couldn't possibly yet comprehend, but that was not important. At least he was by his mother's side.<br />
The shopping mall was full of bright lights and colours, but most of them held little meaning to Jason. The bits and baubles inside display cases, the mannequins and powerful lighting; all of it was irrelevant to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be fascinated by them. A cartoon played on a TV screen, and he slowly drifted away from his mother's arm.<br />
"Ohh no you don't. I got you." He heard her voice as his own arm was grabbed in a grip that was immeasurably firm but impossibly gentle. He looked up and the face was as clear as day, as sharp as knives, as real as reality could get. She gave him a rough smile, torn between amusement and annoyance, and pulled him closer to her side.<br />
"We are getting these groceries and we are <i>leaving</i>. No distractions."<br />
He nodded. No matter the pretty colours and wonderful lights, no one was more luminous or wonderful than mother. A constant, solid as stone and immovable as mountains.<br />
The groceries were purchased, lugged into a shopping cart, and pushed out into the car park. This time, Jason didn't wander off. Instead, he kind of helped, placing his tiny hands against the cold steel of the cart and heaving as hard as he could. Sometimes he could move the cart with ease, and other times he felt as if it was taking his entire body strength; a variable he could never understand on trips like these. He heard his mother laughing.<br />
Eventually they reached the car. He tried to assist again reaching his tiny hands up and trying to reach over the cart, but his mother shooed him away. She loaded everything into the trunk herself, slamming the door with distinct satisfaction. As she dusted her hands, he ran into her and hugged her. He was a little surprised himself. His mother placed her hands around his head. "What's wrong?" she asked in a quiet, warm voice. He clutched her legs tighter.<br />
"I love you mommy," he replied. He wasn't making sense right now, but he just felt as though it was the right thing to do at that moment.<br />
"I love you too, sweetie." He thought he could detect a hint of choking in her voice.<br />
They piled into the car. She put the key in the ignition as he settled in the back, throwing his hands up and about. The car began to move, inciting him to kneel on the car seat and gaze out, laughing as the shades of grey, white and black of road and tarmac, the green and brown of trees and shrubbery, became indistinct hues blending one into another as they gathered speed toward home.<br />
"Put on your seat belt sweetie," his mother said, and he obeyed. He sat himself back down and pulled the latchplate down, letting the strap fasten him to the seat and buckling it with a satisfying click. He always loved that sound. Secretly, he pushed the button that unbuckled the seat belt and reinserted it, hearing the click come once again.<br />
"I heard that," she said. "Keep it buckled, please."<br />
He giggled, and repeated the action, trying to make the click as quiet as possible.<br />
"Alright kiddo, if you want me to pull over and lock down that buckle with super glue, feel free to keep trying."<br />
He laughed and left the buckle alone. He didn't want to be super-glued to his seat."<br />
For an immeasurable length of time he sat in that car seat, straining himself to stare out the window into a blank and unrecognisable landscape. He wondered at the way things seemed to bleed into each other, at how their lines blurred as his mother drew faster and faster. Then, he thought that perhaps they were not driving faster and faster, but that the world was simply bending around them. Then, he realised that it didn't matter, because he was in the car with his mother, and everything was outside it. He was safe within, not without.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, something occurred to him that he hadn't noticed before. He was alone with his mother. That shouldn't be right.<br />
"Mommy?"<br />
"Yes, sweetheart?"<br />
"Where's daddy?"<br />
Silence filled the air. There was no noise for a time, not even the hum of the engine. "He's... not here sweetheart." came the reply, "he had... other things to do. But he'll be back."<br />
"When?" he asked.<br />
"When he's ready," she said.<br />
<br />
Jason frowned. That didn't sound like an answer at all. He looked outside the window with ease, but the world beyond had disappeared. "Mom, where's Dad? How come we're out grocery shopping alone when he should be here, helping you. Pushing the cart, loading the trunk... he should be doing all that. Where is he?"<br />
"I don't know sweetie... I don't know when he's coming back." He heard a strain in her voice.<br />
The belt buckle felt abnormally tight around his midriff, and he straightened up slightly, letting the strap readjust itself over his body.<br />
"But Dad should be here right now; helping us, helping you."<br />
"It's fine, we don't need him for now."<br />
"But-he-should-be-here," he insisted.<br />
<br />
He looked directly at where her head should be behind the headrest. His eyes were completely level with it. "How come you've never told me why Dad wasn't around?"<br />
His mother was definitely crying now. "Because you were just a kid. How could you understand our world of adults? How could I ruin someone who was perfect to you? How could I ruin you like he ruined me?"<br />
"I'm not a kid anymore, mom. I deserve to know the truth."<br />
"We all deserve to know the truth, but we're not always prepared for it. Please, go back to being a little kid."<br />
<br />
There was no car. They were standing in empty space, staring at each other surrounded by darkness.<br />
"I can't. Please. I want to know."<br />
She wept tears from tired eyes, cheeks lined with care and hair grey with stress. She was no longer luminous and wonderful, but sad and forlorn, her glow of love and courage replaced by depression and exhaustion.<br />
"Everyone makes mistakes. History repeats itself. Love is temporary, and frugal in more ways than one."<br />
"I've heard that all my life, from sources other than you. Those are abstract reasons; concepts of human nature. I want to hear what <i>you</i> have to say."<br />
His mother looked at him. There was a smile on her face. It was the type of smile that she'd given him when he'd finished secondary school, when he'd graduated primary school, when he'd painted his first picture, when he'd drawn his first character, when he'd said his first word, when he'd smiled at her face, when he'd lain in her arms, dirty and unsightly, but alive. <br />
"I'm sorry. I can't. I wish I could, but I can't. I have to go."<br />
Suddenly he was a kid again. He was in the shopping mall, surrounded by strangers. The colours were blinding and lovely, bombarding him with feelings and sensations he didn't care one whit about. His mother was right there, staring at him with regretful eyes as the world swept around them. "Don't leave me," he cried.<br />
"I'm sorry I can't stay."<br />
"But you're here right now!"<br />
"I have to go."<br />
"Don't leave me..."<br />
"I love you."<br />
<br />
Jason woke with tears in his eyes. He sat up, wiping them away to stare outside the window. A bird tweeted at him from the treetop, as real and alive as the world was. He stared at the photo of his mother on his bedside table, and lay back down. She had never answered his questions. She never would. She'd been his mother, but she'd never been his friend.<br />
He turned and buried his face in the pillow, dampening it. Perhaps he could fall back asleep. Without his questions and anger, it had been such a good dream.</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-37521458417952823542016-09-26T03:50:00.002-07:002016-09-27T10:34:55.785-07:00Boxed In<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Sharon tried to scream as the warp in dimensional space
sent her flying through infinity. Her entire body felt both stunted and
elongated at the same time. Despite the speed she knew she must be travelling
at, she felt completely stationary; if anything, she felt<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>immovable</i>, as though her being
was fixated in an abstract point. The world bent around her, distorting and
blending before she finally seized. There was no warning; one moment she was
progressing, the second she was not. Or was it one moment she was fixed, the
next she was not? Perhaps there was no difference between either scenarios.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> As her
environment finally settled, she analyzed her surroundings in fear
and desperation, wondering what horrors awaited her in this new dimension. She
was seated on a soft, immensely comfortable couch, in front of what she
perceived was a television screen. It appeared to be playing some sort of comedy show,
with a strange focus to slapstick. It was all so weirdly normal,
considering she had just been transported through space-time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> In fact,
there was nothing overtly unusual about her surroundings at all. She was simply at
someone's apartment, seated on the couch, watching television. There appeared
to be no one else but her around, which made the silence slightly eerie, but
nothing particularly unsettling other than that. She might have felt right at
home if she hadn't just experienced some form of dimensional travel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Eventually,
she found the courage to move from her seat. She checked around the house,
looking for any other signs of life, but there were none. Under the bed, in the
other rooms; she truly was alone in here. She opened the fridge and discovered
that it was chock full with food. The sink in the kitchen was perfectly
functional, and the water that spilled forward<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>felt</i> real enough. She even
drank a little, and there were no immediate averse effects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> She looked
out the window and the world was out there, albeit strangely quiet and empty.
Though there were cars in the parking lot, there was no one around; no random
stranger going about their business, no child playing around in their spare
time. Perhaps she had arrived in a world that had died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> No matter.
She would just have to leave this house and find out more about it. Perhaps it
would give some clue as to how she could return to her own time and place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> She left
the kitchen and strode past the couch where she'd first found herself. The
front door was nearby, and she reached for its handle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> YOU WILL
DIE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> The voice
rang like a gong in her head, reverberating through her skull and making her
clutch at her temples in pain. She was sent to her knees with tears forming in
her tightly closed eyes. When vision returned and the pain was reduced to a
dull aching, she opened her eyes and searched for the source of her terror. But
there was nothing around her. A particularly comic scene played on the screen,
where a man did a back flip after being slapped in the face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> "Who's
there?" she said, cowering against the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> I AM THE
MASTER OF THIS SPACE, the voice rang inside her skull again. This time, it did
not cause any pain, though it did make her knees tremble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> "What
do you want?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> TO LIVE. IF
YOU TOUCH THAT DOOR HANDLE, YOU WILL DIE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> She shook
her head, pulling herself to her feet, "Why? Why will I die?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> THERE IS NO REASON. TO LIVE, YOU MUST NOT TOUCH THAT DOOR.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> She
recoiled from the object of death immediately. She looked around the room, trying to find
other ways to leave. If she could not leave by the door, perhaps there were other means.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>The
window</i>, she thought, and moved toward it. She reached for the latch that
unlocked the glass panes, smiling slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> TOUCH THAT
LATCH AND YOU WILL DIE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Again, the
voice forced her to her knees. The tiles felt cool to her fingers, but
it did nothing to soothe the pain that rocked her mind. She retched as she
knelt there, trying to think through the pain. Why would she die? Why couldn't she touch these objects? Who was the master of this
world? As the pain receded, she found enough courage to stand. She was a
trained professional: she could sit on this couch, analyse the problem, and
solve it. She didn't believe in any gods. Omniscience was impossible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> The TV
played before her, but it might as well have been a blank wall. She'd entered a
mode her colleagues had mockingly called 'the praying mantis'. She was wholly
committed to picking apart the problem and finding solutions to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> The answer
came within seconds. She'd examined the words, found a flaw, and constructed a
plan. All it needed was a little bit of string, and a weight: perhaps a spoon.
She found both sitting together in a kitchen drawer and smiled. Perhaps luck
was on her side. She tied the string around the neck of the spoon and made a
large loop at the string’s other end. She then approached the doorway and with
extreme care, looped the string around the handle. Her fingers had not touched
the handle. She grinned, and used the spoon to pull it downward. The door
opened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> YOU ARE A REBELLIOUS ONE.
LEAVE THROUGH THAT DOORWAY AND YOU WILL DIE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> There was no excruciating
pain this time, but she backed away from the door regardless. She almost cried.
Freedom was right through that entrance, tantalising beyond belief. But she
could not leave, and she did not want to die.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> However, methods to escape were not exhaustive. There was still the kitchen window, and the other rooms had windows and escape routes too. She would persevere through this until she could find another way back to her own world. Omniscience was impossible. Any problem had a solution.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> She would find an alternate route.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> YOU CANNOT TOUCH THAT PIPE. YOU WILL DIE.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> YOU CANNOT MOVE THAT STOOL. YOU WILL DIE.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> YOU CANNOT ENTER THAT ROOM. YOU WILL DIE.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> YOU CANNOT CROSS THAT THRESHOLD. YOU WILL DIE.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> She worked as long and as hard as she could. She picked at multiple different solutions, explored every angle, tried every possible combination: different tools, different items. She did not tire, she did not break, but every moment seemed to be sending her backtracking instead of forward. There was no way out of the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> Soon, she sat on the couch, angry and exhausted. The audience on the TV screen laughed uproariously at an obviously unfunny joke. She was tempted to throw something at the screen, to smash it to a million different shards and crush those shards between those fingers... but she did not. She had been forbidden to touch the TV, or she would die. She did not want to die.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> She sat on the couch for a long time, not watching the program or even contemplating the situation. Her body slowly sank deeper and deeper into the cushions. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> HM. THIS IS THE WAY THIS REALITY SHOULD BE. </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">NO HUNGER, NO THIRST. </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">SIT THERE. WATCH TV. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> I F Y O U L E A V E T H A T C O U C H , Y O U W I L L D I E .</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> Sharon didn't know how long she'd been there. She'd curled up in a fetal position, staring blankly at the screen as it played the comedy show. There was always new content, but all of it was exaggerated and ridiculous. True to the Being's word, she did not hunger or thirst. She could sit on that couch and live forever, or she could move from it and die. She did not want to die.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> So she continued, an eternity spent in nothingness, with no progress or productivity. No next step, no moving forward- nothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> But at least she was alive.</span>Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-47977662201946659722016-08-14T19:23:00.002-07:002016-12-18T20:35:31.753-08:00Beneath the Tree<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a wonderfully tall tree on the hilltop that Jason
always liked glancing at. It was at least five times taller than him, had long
branches bursting with green leaves that shaded a large area beneath it, and gave
off this fresh, wonderful smell that he could breathe in even from the
pavement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, he’d always been a little too busy, too in a hurry,
to take any time to visit the tree. He’d lived in the area for at least two
years, seen the tree almost every day on his way to somewhere or other, but had
never actually been beneath its shadow before. Sometimes, he would pause on the
sidewalk for half a moment, staring wistfully at the tree, before shaking his
head and pressing onward, his mind pulled back to more important and urgent
matters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, the tree remained a constant, always in the back of
his mind. Free days were few and far between, but on the morning of one, Jason
decided that he needed to meet the tree. At the very least, he would spend a
few minutes just standing near it; perhaps he could touch the bark, grab a leaf
and find out what the fragrance was like up close.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His resolution was set. On the morning of his intended trip,
the calls started coming in: projects, work, papers, contacts; he silenced his
cell phone and turned off his computer. He put on his cap and laced up his
sneakers, humming all the while. His phone vibrated on the table, but for once,
he didn’t even notice it. He could finally meet the tree. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stepped out of the house, feeling light and light-headed.
The door seemed to lock itself before he set off down the path, curiously
excited. The pavement was surprisingly empty as he strolled jauntily, trying to
contain a sudden urge to whistle. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon, he came to the spot where he would always pause for
those half-moments. The tree swayed gently in the distance, seeming to dance to
the breeze that now gently caressed his face. He breathed deeply, immersing
himself in the scent that had become so familiar. Climbing over the fence- had
there always been a fence there? He’d never noticed- he felt his sneakers sink
into the grass that was taller than expected. Though they tickled at his legs,
they were mere nuisances in his journey to that wonderful tree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In a much shorter time than he expected, he was right at the
edge of the shadow of the tree. He smiled up at its leaves, and breathed
deeply. It was a momentous occasion, and he wanted to feel every angle, every
particle of that point in time.<br />
He stepped forward.<br />
The world became slightly darker, though the aroma grew
stronger simultaneously. He took another step, and every step after that was
easier. Soon, he was standing next to the trunk of the tree. He rested his hand
against it, enjoying the rough texture of the bark. It was everything he had
imagined.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sat down beneath the tree, resting his back against it.
He could see his house from here. Time seemed to slow; the breeze was even
gentler, the grass was comfortable instead of intrusive, and the tree bark felt
softer than down.<br />
Abruptly, he heard rustling before a head appeared over the
hilltop. It was a freckled face with green eyes and red hair; she was his age.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello,” she said. She didn’t look the least bit surprised
to find someone else beneath the tree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hi,” he replied. Somehow, it felt natural that both of them
should be there at the same time. They stared at each other for a second, an
eternity, before she walked beneath the leaves, up to the tree, and sat down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a long while, they sat there, staring out at the
buildings beneath them. Perhaps time froze; he couldn’t tell. He said nothing,
she said nothing, and they existed beneath that tree for an untold length of
time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon, she rose from her seated position, and left. There was
no warning, no indication; she was simply gone, her only trace being the
flattened grass where she once was. Somehow, he felt a sudden lack, as though
she had been vital to the experience, even if she hadn’t done anything. In mere
moments, he felt dissatisfaction with the tree.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All he could think about now was how much happier he’d been
when there was someone else to share the tree with him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> Maybe she’ll come back</i>,
he thought. So he sat there and waited. She did not return.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun began to set. Every prick of the grass seemed to
sting, the bark poked against his back, rugged and deformed. He looked at the
tree and sighed, mild anger simmering in his heart. He got up, and left without
any intention of coming back. He no longer smelt the fragrance in the wind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When she returned, the man was no longer sitting there.
Slightly disappointed, she sat beneath the tree. Staring out at the houses
beneath her, she felt a sudden lack. However, she rested herself against the
tree and breathed deeply; recapturing that feeling she’d had when the shade had
first enveloped her. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon, and the stars began
to appear. She looked at them and smiled. She’d been here a thousand times, but
each moment seemed more alive than the last.<o:p></o:p></div>
She would return tomorrow.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-25036304329443140952016-04-12T00:01:00.000-07:002016-08-14T19:25:00.083-07:00Michael and Solitair "Hey Michael!"<br />
<div>
There it was again; the sound that signalled the beginning of lunch. He pulled out his earphones and placed them on top of his keyboard, pulling his lips into the customary smile he had practiced so much. On his laptop screen, the images kept flashing as his character lost all its health and perished to its enemies. He put his hood down.<br />
"Hey Cheryl," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. He realized that he could not remember if he had saved or not.<br />
"I'm not bothering you am I?" she asked, head tilted to the side. He shook his own wordlessly; he didn't think he had saved. He mentally punched himself; that was an hour of grinding poured down the drain.<br />
"Anyway, we're going for lunch at McDonald's today. Wanna come with us?"<br />
He nodded. "Sure," was all he said. Was there a faster way to gain all of his items back, or was he going to have to go through the same subplot all over again? The sword had been a really good reward.<br />
He pushed himself up from his chair, adjusting his jacket and gesturing for Cheryl to lead the way. She beamed and obliged, leading him to her group of friends that she normally ate lunch with. They included one Jack, one Ariel and one Danson. Vaguely, he wondered if Danson had ever finished the game that Michael himself had recommended to him. It was a good one, with excellent mechanics and an immersive story, although its downfall was ultimately the poor conclusion and sometimes buggy game play.<br />
Again, he mentally punched himself for not saving.<br />
Cheryl laughed at a joke Jack made, while Jack smiled from ear to ear, looking pleased with himself. Michael looked curiously at him before turning his head away.<br />
As they walked down the stairway, Michael gazed out the windows, catching the sunlight on his cheek and observing the numerous students playing on the grassy lawns. There was so much space for them that he saw two simultaneous Frisbee games happening at once.<br />
"There you go, staring out the window and spacing out again." Cheryl said, her frown bringing him back to reality. "Honestly, <i>talk to us</i>, we're right here! Those people are so far away, yet you look as though you'd rather be conversing with them," she huffed. Michael could tell from her face that she was halfway between amusement and frustration. It was a funny face.<br />
"I was just thinking," he lied. Or was it really lying? He was absorbing the world he was living in. Did that involve thinking?<br />
She sighed. "You know, I ask you along not so you can play games in your head. You should stop thinking about them sometimes."<br />
He nodded, taking her advice without a word.<br />
As they left the staircase, he listened to their conversations. Ariel and Danson were discussing the latest project that the teachers had assigned to the teams. It involved a lot of outfield work and effort, and they were already beginning to plan when they could do their part for it. Jack was telling more jokes that he had gleaned from friends and the internet, continuing to make Cheryl laugh and grinning whenever he succeeded. Some of his jokes were funny.<br />
He listened as Ariel and Danson's discussion turned to the latest episode of some popular Korean Drama. There was talk about how the antagonist had hinted at his true intentions, and Ariel thought it had a much deeper meaning to it. Danson didn't agree; he thought that the villain was just that: a villain. Michael thought about how rare villains were evil for the sake of being evil, but he said nothing.<br />
They ordered their food, Michael asking for a Double-cheese burger meal, with no ice in the coke. When the coke arrived, there was ice in it, but he didn't want to make a fuss. Instead, he thought about how if he had ice his character would have survived the fire traps. He chuckled to himself.<br />
"What are you laughing at?" Cheryl asked curiously.<br />
"Nothing," he replied, and stopped chuckling. She wouldn't get it anyway.<br />
Over lunch, the talk suddenly transitioned to gaming, and he lit up. Danson was discussing the plot from the game that Michael had recommended him. So he <i>had</i> played it.<br />
"I just don't think that the choices the main character makes are realistic to his personality," he heard Danson say.<br />
"I guess so," Cheryl said as she chewed on her burger.<br />
"Makes sense," Ariel nodded.<br />
"I agree," Jack said, obviously disinterested.<br />
Michael couldn't hold himself back. "Actually, they're completely in sync. In the first two chapters or so, they revealed how much he actually cares about others, its just that he chooses to hide it for fear that his enemies will discover his weaknesses. That's why his facial expression never changes in conversations, if you'll keep an eye on him, even though everyone else's does."<br />
Michael looked around at the eyes on him, and shrunk.<br />
"Wow, Michael, I think that's the first time I've heard you string more than ten words together!" Ariel laughed.<br />
"Yeah, don't run out of breath there," Jack joked.<br />
"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure that those scenes didn't have anything to do with the character development. Fairly certain they were just fillers. Plus, the facial expression thing could be a bug, since they're still updating it..."<br />
Cheryl only smiled, saying nothing.<br />
Michael shrugged, and said nothing, taking a gulp from his drink. He put his hood up.<br />
<br />
Michael set up his laptop back home, and got on Skype. Hanging up his jacket, he pulled on his headset and made himself comfortable. Most of his guild mates were online, and he entered the call to hang out with them.<br />
"'Sup guys."<br />
"You're home early, aren't you?" denzer inquired in that nasally voice of his. Michael checked denzer's game status and saw that he was hanging out in a lobby, waiting for teammates before heading into another dungeon.<br />
Michael smiled. "Your sense of time is non-existent, that's all, denzer."<br />
"<i>You're</i> non-existent, Soli," denzer retorted, referring to Michael by his in game name. "Hurry up and get in here. I plan on defeating ol' Dermish today, and I need another damage dealer."<br />
"Is that a wild Solitair?" Soli recognised the voice of his guild leader, RYOUta. It was rare to see him personally in the Skype nowadays. He was apparently very busy with his job, and he was always tired whenever Soli talked to him. "Hey RYO. Showing your face after so long... how's life been for you?"<br />
"Horrible as always, how do you think? It's like you like stating the obvious sometimes, Soli."<br />
Soli laughed without taking offense. His guild leader was always this barbed, but he never meant anything.<br />
"Can you hurry up, Soli? Dermish only lives for two centuries, and you're taking nearly that long," denzer whined.<br />
"Shut up, I'm coming. You're like a little girl," Soli bantered. He loaded up the game, signing in quickly and joining up with denzer's party. He and denzer always quested together, but there was always a cycle of different guild members that played with them. IyIsha was the regular healer, but Soli recalled that she was at camp for the rest of the week. Pity; she was one of the best healers he had ever worked with. She was fun to hang out with too.<br />
It was a party of five, with him and denzer on Ebony Knight and Blood Assassin respectively, boba (Soli didn't talk much with him, but he seemed like an okay guy) as the Elemental Caster, Jeeman (he was funny sometimes and annoying at others) as the Oakskin Berserker, and a Cleric of Kwan that Soli didn't recognise. It was a classic set-up, with two melee damage dealers, one distance damage dealer, one tank and one healer.<br />
Soli was actually quite proud of his Ebony Knight build. While the Ebony Knight was normally a decent Tank with relatively low damage output, Soli had leveled him such that he could dole out massive amounts of damage while still taking advantage of the stun based skills that normally revolved around an Ebony Knight. He had farmed for hours to find the items that would complement and improve it to new heights.<br />
"Who's the new kid?" Soli asked denzer. It was rare to see a Cleric of Kwan; the build was just so papery, most avoided it.<br />
"New guild mate. We recruited him when you went to bed last night."<br />
"At 4 am? Who's crazier than me?"<br />
"Him apparently. Also, he's in the call, and he can hear you gossiping about him."<br />
"Huh. Hey... uh... darth_revan? Welcome to the guild." That was such a horrible name.<br />
The guy had to be younger than 12. His voice was higher than Ariel's. Thinking about her made him slightly annoyed, which made him feel guilty as well. He forcefully turned his thoughts back to his new guild mate. He was halfway through speaking.<br />
"...excited to join you guys! I've never partied to fight Dermish before, so I hope don't burden you guys."<br />
Soli smiled, remembering the nervousness that he had the first time he had partied with denzer. Denzer had been in the guild for at least 6 months before him, so he was a veteran member while Soli had been nothing but a lowly recruit.<br />
"Listen to me and you'll be fine, kid. Let's go," Soli said, taking the lead as usual.<br />
The dungeon was easy in the beginning, but the difficulty scaled exponentially once the Hoard Folk started appearing. From there, it was important that the Oakskin Berserker properly use his Totems to draw their attention and make them clump, so the Elemental Caster and Shadow Assassin could use their Area of Effect attacks to easily wipe them out.<br />
The problems started appearing when revan (Soli was <i>not</i> calling him darth_revan) kept using Holy Pillar on the clusters of Hoard Folk. Holy Pillar did massive amounts of damage to enemies and healed allies in the area of effect, but did less to those that weren't undead, like the Hoard Folk. He was helping to kill them, but he should have been saving his mana to keep his teammates alive. The least he could have done was cast the Holy Pillar better so it healed both the tank and killed the enemies.<br />
Soli could feel his frustration building, but he said nothing.<br />
They finally made it to the deepest level and confronted the demon, Dermish. As they walked through the boss doors, Soli's mind envisioned himself as his character, standing with his four other party members side by side and staring into its fiery red eyes, its blazing axe hefted in its solid black arms. His blood pumped and his eyes widened. A smile of anticipation spread across his face.<br />
"Let's do it. Set the totems! Revan, heal Jeeman and make sure he doesn't die. Denzer, circle around and put that backstab trinket of yours to use. Keep up the pressure, boba!" He moved himself into position, next to the tank, slamming the earth with his blade repeatedly, stunning the demon over and ensuring there was enough time for his teammates to get in position. They had obeyed him promptly, letting him strike the flesh of the demon with his sword as it was distracted by the totems.<br />
Everything seemed to be going well, with Soli dodging in and out of the flames that periodically exuded from the ground and striking heavily where he could. He could almost <i>feel</i> the lifeforce of his enemy draining away.<br />
Suddenly, a beam of light pierced the ground. Soli felt himself being healed, but there was nothing to replenish. He was perfectly healthy, having dodged the torrents of fire so well.<br />
"Revan, what the hell are you doing?" he shouted.<br />
"Huh?" he heard his healer reply. Another pillar of light pierced the ground on top of the demon, making it scream in pain.<br />
"Why are you using Holy Pillar when you should be using the mana on Jeeman like I told you to?!" Even without looking, he could tell that their tank was slowly dying, increasing amounts of lacerations piling up on his bark-like skin as he absorbed hit after hit from Dermish. Another pillar of light slammed into the demon.<br />
"Can you STOP using Holy Pillar! Jeeman's <i>this close</i> to getting killed!"<br />
Soli's blood ran cold when he heard the response. "It's alright, I can cast it on Jeeman <i>and</i> Dermish!"<br />
He watched as revan casted the spell. He watched as the pillar of light landed on both Jeeman and Dermish, damaging Dermish and healing Jeeman slightly- oh, so slightly.<br />
Dermish swung his axe once more, and Jeeman's body of Oak became nothing but a husk, leaves bursting into the air, before being charred to cinders in flashes of flame.<br />
Immediately, Soli attempted to slam the ground once more, trying to gain enough time to put some distance between him and the demon. But he'd used all his energy for that in the beginning of the fight. He felt his Ebony Armor shatter, not designed to hold up against the augmented blades of demon beasts.<br />
His health bar dropped to zero.<br />
He watched blankly as the boss turned on denzer, then boba, and finally revan.<br />
QUEST FAILED played across the screen, in bright red colours, dripping blood. They weren't necessary: Soli was already seeing red.<br />
"ARE YOU RETARDED?!" he screamed into the microphone, slamming the table simultaneously. His mouse fell to the floor, unnoticed.<br />
"I <i>literally</i> told you to <i>listen to me</i> right from the BEGINNING! Do you have ears?!"<br />
"Calm down, dude," denzer said, "he's new, he'll learn. We can always go again."<br />
Soli breathed in and out, reigning himself in. "Fine. But revan, the next time I tell you to do something, you bloody <i>listen to me</i>. Or else, you're not gonna be in this guild for much longer." He reached down and picked his mouse off the floor. He didn't recall dropping it at all.<br />
"We're going to have to start from the beginning. Remember the totems when the Hoard Folk come, and to create water elementals the moment the ember lizards spawn. Keep watching Jeeman's back, denzer. Let's have a <i>perfect run</i> people."<br />
They beat Dermish under his direction.<br />
<br />
"Hey Michael!"<br />
Michael looked up from his laptop, remembering to pause this time. He had redone the quest, and his progress was saved. He executed the routine smile, removing his hood as he did so.<br />
"Hey, Cheryl" he said with mustered effort.<br />
"They're having an offer down at Subway, so we're planning on going down there today. Wanna come with?"<br />
He considered, seriously this time, whether he wanted to go with them or not. He remembered how Ariel had laughed at him, how Jack had made fun of him, and how Danson had dismissed his opinion. Then he remembered how Cheryl had said nothing.<br />
"Sure," he said, gesturing for her to lead the way.</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-37905615496874616282016-03-31T00:51:00.002-07:002016-03-31T01:10:43.567-07:00In-depth review of MC7 Upper Bracket Semi-finals<div class="MsoNormal">
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<i>I wrote this while bored of actually playing video games. If you don't follow competitive Team Fortress 2, I recommend you skip this one. It gets very technical and has absurd amounts of TF2 jargon.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Predicted to be one of the best matches of the season, the
rankings on Saloon were heavily favouring Cute Beast, but the call was that
both teams were equally experienced and evenly matched.</div>
</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The write-up for the match can be viewed <a href="http://asiafortress.com/forums/index.php?/topic/4576-mercenaries-cup-7-upper-bracket-semi-finals/#entry37407" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">here</span></a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It is important note however, that both teams had not
scrimmed for more than a week due to real life commitments on either side. Thus,
the epic standoff between the two teams devolved somewhat.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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<b><u>Play By Play<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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The first round was hard fought, repeatedly bouncing from
last to last, going for a good 12 minutes before Cute Beast finally managed to
take the first point. However, Pingu found a sudden burst of momentum and immediately
took the next two rounds in 3 minutes, rolling Cute Beast from middle to last
twice in a row.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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While the next two rounds were more hard fought, it appeared
to be futile. The coordination demonstrated by Pingu was almost mechanical,
disassembling any attempts by Cute Beast to push out and ruthlessly seizing the
slightest openings to make progress. The only thing keeping Cute Beast in the
game at that point was Flower, whose sniping halted Pingu in their tracks
multiple times (Flower hitting the most ridiculous headshot on And between
Shocky’s legs was the highlight of the match).<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Pingu picked up the next two rounds, making the score 4 – 1.
The clock was winding down for Cute Beast, and in a last ditch effort, the
Chinese played a super aggressive mid, jumping both soldiers in deep. It
worked, wiping Pingu and capping last in a good 1 minute 30 seconds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The score was 4 – 2 and Cute Beast had only 5 minutes left.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Cute Beast won the next mid and took second almost
instantaneously, having full knowledge that every second was exponentially increasing
in importance. They readied their last push, and ubered in through shutter.
However, a single moment of disorganisation meant that not everyone was in at
last, and Pingu had kited the uber too well. The post-uber fight decimated any
hope that Cute Beast had of tying up the game,
and the map declined into stats padding, the score remaining 4 – 2 to
Pingu.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The second map was Sunshine, rarely seen in Asian pugs and
scrims. Cute Beast had to win in order to push for a third tie breaker map.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But Pingu’s momentum had carried over from Process. They beat
Cute Beast at the first mid, a scene that would become extremely familiar in
the following 16 minutes. In fact, from start to finish it seemed as though
there was little to no hope for Cute Beast. The first round was the longest,
lasting a good 6 minutes before Pingu were able to pick an overextending player
and complete the last push.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The remaining time was just a sad mess. Cute Beast were unable
to win a single mid and their players were constantly caught out of position.
One moment would stand out to many, whereby Hysteria and Shad0w were the only
ones alive after Cute Beast had successfully completed a four man sacrifice for
And. Shortly after, Hysteria jumped in afterward for seemingly no reason,
leaving his medic to fend for himself (Shad0w eventually dying in the following
chase), denoting a probable lack in communication and overall collapse in
cohesion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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It was an excruciating 16 minutes for the 73% that
had bet on MC7’s favourites. Pingu emerged victorious, taking the map 5 – 0 and
moving on to the Grand Finals. Now, Cute Beast has to defeat Kusoyotech in
order to obtain another shot at taking down their greatest rivals…<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
</div>
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<b><u>Log Reviews</u></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The logs for the matches can be viewed below.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://logs.tf/1336262?highlight=76561198040346178" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Process</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://logs.tf/1336293?highlight=76561198040346178" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Sunshine</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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Process was dominantly a scout’s game, with the highest DPM
coming out from both Flower and Teejay: only 9 damage apart from each other.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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What’s significant here is how little 10 did for Cute Beast.
Arguably, he did more damage than tommy, but when you have a reputation to keep
and teammates to carry (i.e. Hysteria), the damage numbers weigh more. What’s
more, tommy had a KA/D of <i>3.3</i>, the
highest in the server. While he wasn’t outputting damage per se, he was doing fantastic
in the role assigned him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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In addition to this, Fury was unable to put out the damage
that he normally could. A floundering 229 DPM compares poorly to his usual performance,
especially considering that he took 26% of the heals from his medic. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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With Flower top damaging and top fragging on the server
whilst sitting with the least healing on his team, could he have potentially
done more?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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All in all, the conclusion is that because two of Cute Beast’s
star players were not performing to standard, the entire team collapsed around
them. While Flower and RLE (who was switched to roamer from medic before the
match started) were able to pull their weight impressively, it wasn’t enough to
make up for the fact that the remaining fragging classes scored under 250DPM.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As opposed to this, Pingu had an almost textbook game with
better slightly better and spread out damage, and with <i>22% healing</i> <i>across each of
the three core classes</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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All in all though, the logs don’t really demonstrate how
well Pingu was playing together. Much of their victory on process should be
attributed to both their teamwork and the fact that many of Cute Beast’s
players kept getting caught making plays for the medic.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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There isn’t much to be said about Sunshine, considering it
was a 5 – 0 victory for Pingu. Three things of note were: Fury did considerably
better, getting 315 DPM; Flower spent more time as sniper than as scout; Teejay
was out-damaged by Tommy <i>even though
tommy got less healing</i>, which is not something just anyone can say.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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All in all, Cute Beast was shredded on Sunshine, a defeat
that they’ll have to keep in mind while facing off against Kusoyotech. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
</div>
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<b><u>Conclusion<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Cute Beast play a DM-centric style, and it collapsed mainly
because Pingu played the team game much better- and that a DM-centric
playstyles only function when <i>each player
is in shape and performing as expected on the day itself</i>. Ultimately, with
rusty rockets and dusty scatterguns, Cute Beast were unable to beat their more
cohesive opponents.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-62339095801945791462016-02-17T09:23:00.003-08:002016-02-17T09:24:52.425-08:00EnoughIn life we often never grasp<br />
The weight of continual living<br />
Until that moment, that final gasp<br />
Can our mouths exude,<br />
"It is enough"?<br />
<br />
At dawn we wake<br />
At noon we work<br />
At dusk we feast<br />
At night we sleep<br />
<br />
At dawn we rise<br />
At noon we slog<br />
At dusk we eat<br />
At night we weep<br />
<br />
Frustration!<br />
Condemnation!<br />
Dissatisfaction!<br />
Enough is Enough!<br />
<br />
A heart's dark doubting with unanswered words<br />
Prayers to gods on lips unheard?<br />
A service or two to those in strife<br />
Perhaps we once had saved a life?<br />
<br />
As darkness falls across our eyes<br />
The thoughts around the edge of mind<br />
Beyond the veil, the new world lies<br />
In our last breath,<br />
Was it enough?<br />
<br />
A false existence, in desperation<br />
That everyday, begins to fade<br />
Futility fuels our every action<br />
No soul will ever come to aid<br />
<br />
In a sorry bed, you go to die<br />
The worst of pain to pass away<br />
In death's warm arms, you softly lie<br />
And wish the phrase,<br />
"It is enough".<br />
<br />
Be steadfast<br />
The world contrasts<br />
If you follow them,<br />
You cannot last<br />
It is never enough<br />
<br />
Work for those you hold most dear<br />
Love all life, whether far or near<br />
And though the man will always leer<br />
In your heart,<br />
It is enough<br />
<br />
Then as you walk that lonely road<br />
The flowered path begins to grow<br />
The scent is strong, you'll always know<br />
At road's end,<br />
It was enough.<br />
<br />
It is enough.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-22019158195332723432015-07-19T21:14:00.001-07:002016-03-04T07:25:49.210-08:00The Balloon Man<div style="text-align: justify;">
The father and son strolled down the sidewalk, next to the street teeming with cars and motorcycles. The father had his son's hands gripped tightly in his own. They approached a corner and made the turn, the son so close to the wall that his shoulder almost collided with the sharp edge.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Around the turn a Balloon Man stood waiting, dressed in a motley mix of red, yellow and blue, with high tucked bell bottoms and loose suspenders. His hair was curled and puffy, a distinct black in contrast to the almost bright colours he was dressed in. In his tightened fist, he clutched the strings of a hundred multi-coloured balloons a hundred times brighter than himself, all threatening to blow away in a sudden gust of wind.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The son pointed excitedly at the Balloon Man and shouted, coherency lost in the elation of his voice. The Balloon Man turned his head from the sky to look at the boy, alerted by the sound. The father slowly relented, releasing the crushing grip on his son's hand to reveal the redness of his finger marks. The son ran up to the balloon man, almost slamming into him before he could slow himself. He reached up to one of the balloons eagerly, his hand outstretched in a small claw, to which the balloon man obliged. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He carefully picked a string and removed a bright yellow balloon from the floating mass above his head, pulling it slowly from his fingers and lowering it into the hands of the boy. The Balloon Man smiled gently as the child laughed, gazing up at the rubber instrument with pure joy written upon his face. The father walked up after his son and dropped a few small coins into the Balloon Man's tiller. He gave a small nod with a frown, grabbing his son's other hand forcefully before striding off without a single word.<br />
The Balloon Man checked his earnings by opening the tiller lid, and after looked after them, completely silent.<br />
<br />
The cars whiz by, making streaking, coloured blurs that excite the child to no end. However, he cannot see them properly because his father is blocking his view. <i>I wish that I was taller, so I could see over daddy's shoulder</i> he thinks. Daddy always put him to the wall, so he could never see the colours properly. And his grip was always <i>so tight</i>.<br />
Suddenly, they were rounding a corner. Shocked, the boy almost knocks into the corner of the wall. He blinks the sudden rush of nerves away, and lets his father pull him along, still thinking about the cars he wished he could see.<br />
All of a sudden, he glimpses an even more fascinating array of colours out of the corner of his eye.<br />
Balloons, in all their glory!<br />
He squirms excitedly, raising his hand to point at the source of his happiness.<br />
"Daddy, can I have them all?" he tries to say, but his father doesn't seem to understand the words. Tugging incessantly against the hand tight around his, he continues to point.<br />
Finally, his father releases him, allowing him to run up to the man holding the balloons, slowing down just in time. He reaches up, smiling. All he wants right then, is a balloon within his fingers, to feel it tugging against his own hand, to see it floating above his head.<br />
The man holding them grabs one, and as though in slow motion, lowers it into the child's fingers. Squealing, the child looks up at the balloon, rubbing the string enthusiastically.<br />
<i>One day I'll fly like that</i>, the child thinks to himself, before his world resumes moving.<br />
<br />
The cars sped dangerously by, seemingly ignorant of the signs that were supposed to limit how fast they could go. The father was half terrified, inside wondering how the ruling government could expect to organize the country when it couldn't even control the drivers. He held his son by the hand, putting him to the wall so that there would be no risk of him getting hit by a car.<br />
<i>One day, the speed limit will be enforced</i>, he thought to himself, unconsciously tightening his grip on his son's hand.<br />
He remembered the days when people would never drive so fast. His father had always been able to take him places without a constant fear that they would be hit by some clumsy motorist. Now, such safety was as unknowable as a faraway planet in the distant space.<br />
They rounded the corner, the father still brooding on the old days, when he felt his arm being tugged gently. He looked up, and saw a mass of balloons floating in the air. Beneath it, a man stood casually, dressed in a ridiculous getup consisting of a random palette of colours and suspenders. In other words, a balloon man.<br />
Suddenly realizing that the tugging of his hand was his own child, he relaxed his grip, allowing the boy to slip from him and run, almost crashing into the balloon man. He shook his head slightly, and made a mental note to teach his son not to run on the sidewalk.<br />
Balloon men were everywhere these days. Most of them were people who had either been sacked from their original jobs due to the recession, or people too lazy to pickup an actual job. Either way, they were cluttering the streets and becoming a nuisance to people who were trying to lead honest and independent lives, not off the over-charity of the government. He remembered a time when the streets weren't rampant with beggars and hobos.<br />
His son reached up and took a balloon from the hands of the balloon man, before gazing at it with the simplistic happiness only a child could have.<br />
<i>Now I </i>have <i>to buy it</i>, the father thought gloomily. He reached into his pocket and found some spare change.<br />
He strode up to the beggar and dropped the coins into his makeshift tin can. There was a loud clank as it hit the bottom. A moment came where the father was staring into the eyes of the balloon man. The makeup made it hard to tell, but he thought that the man was smiling maliciously.<br />
The father chose that moment to nod, with a slight frown, acknowledging that he knew the beggar had just stolen some of his money.<br />
Grabbing his son's hand, he walked away, already reminiscing of a time when he hadn't had to deal with such scum.<br />
<br />
I look up at the sky, past the balloons and into the clouds, drifting slowly past my income as though taunting it with its freedom. The sound of cars along the street barely register in my ears as a minute hum. I am engrossed in a daydream where I was able to leave the streets and continue with my education, after finding a better job and earning enough to purchase my own house.<br />
Suddenly, I hear high-pitched shouts down the pavement I had chosen to sell my ware. I turn my head to see a child, in the strong arm of his father. The father is dark haired, with worry lines and a frown painted all over his face, while the child is blonde and guileless.<br />
The child is released, and all of a sudden he is almost colliding with me, staring up at the balloons I hold with a hopeful expression and a tiny outstretched hand that I cannot not deny. I pulled a yellow coloured balloon from the cluster to match the boys hair, and press the string into his palm. The boy stares up at his new toy and laughs with elation, and I cannot help but smile at the simple exudation of happiness. It is in moments like these, with the laughter of a child gracing my ears, that I can find happiness in the only job they could give me; even the most efficient office worker could not boast that he made children smile everyday.<br />
The father stalks over, stopping to drop coins into the small tin can I had setup to collect money for the balloons. It clanks loudly for my first customer of the day. He stares me in the eye, nods gruffly in thanks, and grabs his son's hand before walking off.<br />
I walk over to the can and open it, seeing the random amount of coins the man had dropped in. 30 cents, when a balloon was supposed to cost 50 cents, clearly labelled on the tin.<br />
I look up and stare after them. I feel a mixture of disappointment and anger in my heart, before my eyes find the child, still staring up at the balloon without a care in the world. In my heart, I know that that would be enough.</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-79938723143493895372015-05-28T20:07:00.000-07:002015-05-28T20:07:00.019-07:00Disillusionment It was a strange sensation.<br />
It started with the curdling of the heart, and a deep drop somewhere in the diaphragm, followed by a slow tightening of the throat, fingers writhing and an electric spark in the eye. It felt as though I had caught the flu, but had nothing of the fever, with my heart beating rapidly but no heat of the mind to speak of. Oh my heart!<br />
It was just me, sitting there, staring, and as the sensation came I thought of all the mountains in the world, the skyscrapers that man had built to challenge them; it was as though an earthquake had swept though the lines of tall, proud constructions -the product of nature and men- and leveled them to their knees, leaving nothing but grey dust and bland rubble. Oh my heart!<br />
It was more than that to me. I could not imagine anything else quite so fascinating, so unusual, yet so very <i>wrong</i>, so devastating that it shook me down to my very core, like a knife <i>through</i> a stick of butter, twisting and wrenching as it goes, bleeding oozes of yellow that resembled pus more than oil. Oh my heart!<br />
It occurred to me that this wasn't real, but the sensation was already in motion, and if nothing, I could not deny my feelings, for they are the only things that I can <i>feel</i>. I looked on as the scene unfolded horrifically, tearing apart the waxed-paper wall that I had been hiding behind for years, recoiling as the monster reached out for me, took me by the heart, and throttled it. Oh my heart!<br />
I shook with fear inside, for on the inside, no one can hurt me but myself.<br />
Was what I thought.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-68277187181360882292015-05-14T12:30:00.003-07:002015-05-14T12:30:55.687-07:00IndifferenceAcross the deep blue sea<br />
Somebody waits for me<br />
A beacon of hope<br />
That I might not bemoan<br />
The deaths of the ones I see<br />
<br />
In tragedy we love to find<br />
The silver lining of time<br />
But often as not<br />
Our efforts will rot<br />
And our bodies will wont to die<br />
<br />
A life lived for none<br />
Wills a grave dug by one<br />
We cannot foresee<br />
The end we will meet<br />
Never relent and be done<br />
<br />
A horrible weeping sound<br />
Falling in pain, to the ground<br />
It is hard to care<br />
When you cannot share<br />
The pains which have you bound<br />
<br />
But apathy gathers no gains<br />
Do not look on in disdain<br />
For though we are slaves<br />
There is no worse grave<br />
Than saying "all is in vain"<br />
<br />
Try.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-10628998735548378692015-05-02T23:28:00.001-07:002015-05-03T02:11:08.009-07:00Starlight We run in the Sun all day to the tunes, our hands grasped tightly like the fierce embrace between mother and child, exploring the rolling plains and smelling the multitude of flowers that decorate the fresh green grass, flourishing in the eternal light of fire and moon.<br />
The tune changes to a show melodious one, and we stop running and turn to the sky, wondering what happened to the cheer of life and the rays that empowered our endless flight into the unknown. As we stand there and wander, we realise that the mournful song is also one of dance, and with our hands still embraced, we begin to waltz slowly, allowing the overpowering music to envelop us in her arms.<br />
We drift slowly from the darkened grass into the soulless unknown, our feet stepping on air as the tune continues. It hurts, but our eyes are closed and our hands are in one another's and the starlight, growing brighter, illuminates the narrow stairway where we tread. Inevitably, we become the stars in the heavens, growing brightly and giving life to the grass and flowers that once loved us, worshiped by none but revered by all.<br />
With our eyes we see them; holding hands and running in our light through the rolling plains and flowers, before we are snuffed out by time.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-77407046515173100022015-03-11T20:15:00.000-07:002015-03-11T20:17:36.953-07:00The Family Photo<div style="text-align: justify;">
She sighed, removing sweat from her forehead in a careless swipe.</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Perhaps fear of destroying her makeup should have gripped her more, but with six children, one crying, one angry, one confused, one amused, and two becoming increasingly exasperated; at the moment she really could not care less.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Shaun, I don't care if he poked you; straighten up your shirt and <i>settle down</i>, before I take away your toys again." That silenced him also immediately, except for the occasional sniffle. One could not expect miracles.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She spun around to the next child. "James, if I catch you annoying Shaun again, I'll be forced to punish both of you."</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"But it's taking so long!" James whined in outrage, "sitting here is boring!"</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"It'd be ten times shorter if you would stop making your younger brother cry! Now sit there and keep your hands to yourself <i>or else.</i>" She raised a threatening finger, resulting in a cowering James, who sat still with a grumpy expression on his face.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Her next son, Kyle, was trying to stand in front, constantly looking at his feet shuffling. "No Kyle, you're supposed to be standing over <i>here</i>, beside me."</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"But then, Jessica and Janet will be blocking me from view," Kyle said, voice hesitant, feet still moving.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
She almost laughed aloud. "How many times do we have to tell you before you believe us: you are <i>taller than both your sisters</i>. Just stand there and trust me, alright?" Kyle nodded uncertainly, but moved faithfully according to her advice.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Her last and oldest son, Ben was just standing there, grinning at everyone, his shoulders shaking slightly. She looked him up and down, and just stifled a giggle herself. She was beginning to realize how funny her family must look.</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Don't laugh during the photo, Ben. Just smile with the rest of us, okay?"</div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"A‐Alright Mom. I'll try."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
They all gathered together as the Father fixed the camera onto the tripod, adjusted the settings, and pressed the button. The light on the camera slowly blinked red, allowing him time to join the family photo. "Smile, everyone!" she said with a sharp edge in her voice, before the device clicked and the image was captured.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It had taken almost an hour to get everyone together and posing properly before they could finally set up the camera. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>A job well done,</i> she told herself, nodding with satisfaction.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
* * *</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Hey, I remember this!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ben laughed as he picked out the photograph from its sleeve, smiling down at it with a strong feeling of nostalgia.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The siblings had been going through their mother's belongings, and had come across a small wooden box; it had quickly become a treasure chest as its contents were revealed. Jessica replaced another photo album back into the box and shifted over, looking at the photo. "Oh," she grinned, "that was before I left, wasn't it?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Shaun and James stopped bantering to turn around. "What? What'd you find?" Shaun said excitedly, before standing up from the bed and leaning over the small group gathered by the chest. With a slight frown, Janet pushed Shaun to the side slightly. "You're blocking the light," she explained; she then adjusted the picture in Ben's hands slightly, preventing the oily layer of the picture from catching the glare completely.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Wow, this is old," James said, in a similar position as Shaun. He smiled slightly as he remembered throwing a small tantrum before the photo was taken.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kyle stopped his ministrations on the piano and turned his head to the side, listening in to the conversation.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"You can see that I was crying," Shaun said excitedly, pointing at his own, much younger face. "My eyes are still red; what was I so mad about?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
James sniggered, "Don't sweat it, you used to cry <i>all</i> the time. Probably some other dumb reason."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Shaun feigned ignorance, but a slight curving of the lips betrayed him as he extended a finger to match James' face. "Hey, since when did James become shorter than me?" he smirked, at which James immediately extended himself to full height, and tiptoed. Shaun did likewise, puffing out his chest. They both grinned.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Settle down, you two," Kyle said quietly, replacing the protective clothe across the piano keys before closing the lid gently. He glanced over from the chair, trying to see above the heads of his older siblings. "Don't worry, just come closer, Kyle," said Jessica, amused. She shook her head in consternation "You're exactly like you were when we took this photo."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kyle frowned, "I can't look exactly the same- it's been years."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Jessica continued her head shaking.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Wow, I had such a big smile," Ben half shouted, trying to break into Kyle's thoughts before they grew out of hand.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"I've actually noticed a similar expression in <i>all </i>the family photos we've taken," Janet said. "if anything, you actually look like you're close to laughing."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Really? I can't remember what for, though."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Mom used to tell you not to laugh during a photo-taking session all the time; you really don't remember?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"No... It's been years since we've taken a family photo."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At those words, almost everyone went quiet at once.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Later, they could never remember who had started the first raindrops, but it had quickly evolved into a storm. They all turned to tears, crying as they sat around the wooden treasure chest that held all their precious memories, hugging each other for comfort- weeping as they mourned forever incomplete family photos.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Their father pressed the button, and hurried to join them, standing at the side.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
They all stood there, arms around each other, standing tall and smiling for all their worth.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When they looked at the photo from the screen of the digital camera, everyone knew Her face was missing, and that in every family photo thereafter, Her face would always be missing. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But no one noticed.</div>
</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-80382674292139621702015-03-07T06:25:00.001-08:002015-03-11T20:18:30.355-07:00The Fall of Shigasina DistrictHis head could be seen over the wall. It stayed there, completely stationary, almost as if it were floating, immovable amongst steam and smoke; a flesh covered face with barely any skin, and a strange network of visible bones across terrifying, empty features.<br />
<br />
No one moved, as though time itself had stopped to regard the strange beast staring over the top of the wall. No one said anything; what was there to be said? What amount of alliteration, of allegory, of simile or metaphor could describe the sheer brink of the moment, the sense of terror mixed in with awe that froze the very blood of every sentient being across the district?<br />
<br />
It was staring over the top of the wall.<br />
<br />
"AAAHHH!" a woman screamed in the distance, and the cry was taken up by hundreds, thousands, as both men and women screamed in absolute terror. They fled in absolute panic, directionless and confused: towards home, towards the military base, towards the north wall in hopes of safety and shelter, towards family members and friends. Children were trampled mercilessly, objects of seeming value were discarded with utmost ease, and all the while, humanity screamed a desperate cry.<br />
<br />
SMASH.<br />
<br />
The gate that had held the titans at bay for more than a century was obliterated into wreckage and debris that scattered into the town, creating more chaos and destruction. People were smashed into unrecognizable chunks of meat by falling boulders, buildings were demolished by even larger pieces of the gate, and all the while that face looked over the top of the wall, still absolutely terrifying in appearance, only now it seemed to the panicked below as though it were smiling at the utopia that it had destroyed almost laughably easily: with a simple kick.<br />
<br />
Bells were rung in the distance, with echoing shouts of "The titans! The titans!" ringing throughout the district. "Head north, behind the wall! Flee!" the shouts came, and amidst the chaos some small shred of reason was found, and the citizens began to run north in a messy, general swarm. Soldiers, bearing the intertwined Roses of the Wall Garrison, were dispatched into the field, attempting to usher the people to safety in a more orderly and efficient manner, whilst simultaneously shaking in their boots.<br />
<br />
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.<br />
<br />
The sound that the soldiers had imagined, and dreaded.<br />
<br />
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.<br />
<br />
The citizens could not comprehend it after years of peace; they had never seen or contemplated what could make such a loud yet bone chilling sound.<br />
<br />
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.<br />
<br />
The titans were here.<br />
<br />
Ranging from three meters to fifteen meters, they possessed the facial physiques of the ugliest humans alive; skin taut and pale, with faces diverse yet all equally strange and blood-curdling. They marched deeper and deeper into the city, leaving nothing but pieces of corpses in their wake, the blood of previous victims stained across their teeth and faces, seeking to satisfy an insatiable hunger, the hunger for human flesh.<br />
<br />
A young girl's horrified scream came, high-pitched and loud before it was silenced forever, replaced by the soft sound of blood splattering. A man ran through the street, tears pouring down his face with his mouth wide open, unable to produce even the smallest squeak from fear, before a large hand grabbed him from above the buildings. Soldiers, once comfortable and drunk, once easy-going and confident, either fled, praying that their time had not come, or attempted to fight the titans in a vain stab at bravery. Both the former and the latter met with the same fate.<br />
<br />
On that fateful day, humanity was reminded of the feeling of being caged, of living like birds: unable to escape from their chains. To live in constant terror of something that sought to devour, an unstoppable force that could never be sated; on that day, humanity remembered.<br />
<br />
Peace was only respite.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>My first tribute to the Japanese Manga, </i>Attack on Titan.Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-7705471946188759962015-03-05T01:31:00.003-08:002015-03-11T20:18:41.725-07:00BoredomIt began with a cup<br />
Of sweet longan juice<br />
Ended in mishap<br />
Then boredom ensued<br />
<br />
Of course, there was panic<br />
It was my baby, my all!<br />
I went almost manic<br />
What could be done now??<br />
<br />
I took her to pieces<br />
Cleaned all the keys<br />
But oh so useless<br />
She screamed, "futility!"<br />
<br />
She said what I didn't<br />
Did nothing I wanted<br />
Everything unbidden<br />
I knew... She was broken<br />
<br />
My laptop was broken!<br />
<br />
So I sent her to shop<br />
"Five working days"<br />
And my heart just stopped<br />
"I won't last five hours"<br />
<br />
I returned home in tears<br />
Not literally, but close<br />
For all my worse fears<br />
Had just overdosed<br />
<br />
My holiday had begun<br />
But I had nothing to do!<br />
Run out in the sun?<br />
"Are you crazy?!"<br />
<br />
But some part of me<br />
Knew this was sad<br />
Was the laptop screen<br />
All that I had?<br />
<br />
A slightly larger section<br />
Spoke quite forcefully<br />
With undue aggression<br />
"Do something worth doing!"<br />
<br />
And I remembered<br />
Long ages ago<br />
Before videos rendered<br />
But were taped on the go<br />
<br />
I would have been jovial<br />
Well on my own<br />
Reading a novel<br />
Or writing a poem<br />
<br />
So I did what I loved<br />
Besides video games<br />
<br />
I read books<br />
I wrote stories<br />
I looked at scenery<br />
I walked alone<br />
I drew nonsense<br />
I talked with friends<br />
I laughed with family<br />
<br />
I lived<br />
<br />
Was I bored at times?<br />
Of course I was<br />
But whoever said<br />
I wasn't bored of my laptop?Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-67399179568792024862015-02-27T13:26:00.000-08:002015-02-27T13:47:41.545-08:00The UnknowableIt is the sensation of being removed<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I stand on a snowy mountaintop</div>
<div>
Overlooking glades of evergreen forests</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As one watches a slow sunrise with a loved one</div>
<div>
The waves of a thousand seas breaking on the shore</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She enjoys the comfort of a gentle breeze on a desolate day</div>
<div>
The tip tap of light rain in the deep silence of night</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A fireplace in a winter storm</div>
<div>
A tinkling waterfall in a deep jungle</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is like memory</div>
<div>
It is like love</div>
<div>
It is like peace</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tranquility</div>
<div>
Detachedness</div>
<div>
Nostalgia</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is the feeling that only you can feel</div>
<div>
Like no one else can see</div>
Rayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8552565357115643057.post-576396986424320282014-10-02T11:09:00.004-07:002014-10-02T11:09:47.978-07:00MourningAwake<br />
Feel the light<br />
Eyes open<br />
Glorious sight<br />
<br />
The Sun<br />
She is out<br />
My son<br />
Be about<br />
<br />
The bed<br />
It is nice<br />
And the floor<br />
Is as ice<br />
<br />
But arise<br />
Come and see<br />
The world<br />
As it should beRayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08313203272476380453noreply@blogger.com0