So I had this awesome and epic story in mind for today to feature my secondary Mage named Paladin. Then I started singing this song randomly at work...so I blame Ian and David for its creation.
This is silly, and not to be taken seriously. Hells bells, if you don't know the two Sabbat PC's in question you won't enjoy this as much as I do! But, I created it so here's my filk.
Sing this song to the tune of Chip 'n' Dale's rescue Ranger theme ;)
Some times Cainites
Go slippin' through the cracks
But these two Nos dudes
Are pickin' up the slack
There's no Lick too big, no Hunt too small
When you need it killed just call
Gilbert and Filbert
Nosferatu!
Gilbert and Filbert
They'll eat it, yeah
Oh no, it never fails
They'll make a ruse
And eat those Camarilla fools!
Gilbert and Filbert!
Nosferatu
Gilbert and Filbert
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Scene: Abdul's first
So, SERE was epic. It really ignited my urge to write and create again, but sadly my body wouldn't allow me to physically write for hours. I did my best to write this scene up and get it posted before midnight, but I seem to have failed >.<. This was an amazing game for me, and I hope my writing can adequately express how awesome I felt!
Abdul's First
The air was cool and damp, he could practically taste the snark and falsely sweet words in his tongue. His eyes scanned the room nervously, there were far too many entrances into this ballroom and far to many side areas for Cainites to escape and carry on with foul deeds. The stench of the Warlocks made his nose twitch when he chose to breath, and his ridgedly clenched muscles made it clear to all that walked by; Abdul Aziz ibn Christian was an Assamite ready to pounce.
"Abdul, are you well?" The familiar veiled Arabic voice of Zaraya al-Kitab rang in his ears.
"I...no, honestly not sister. This social function is not for me, not what I am trained for or prepared for. I am a rafiq amongst the Children, yet I do not know how to fight this battle..." Abdul's gaze drifts to the small cluster of Toreador chattering away, the occasional laugh puncturing the conversation.
The smile clearly in her eyes, she reaches out and touches his shoulder. "This is the life of the Camarilla, you will adjust."
He sighs, but is visibly calmed by her comforting gesture. His eyes scan around the room and catches the sight of his fellow Children of Haqim circling the room. The mic on the front podium crackles to life and Abdul shifts his gaze. He steps forward to draw out the chair for his Elder Prince, sliding the obsidian Cainite to the table. At the mention of Archon Madwell's departure to handle a security issue, Abdul raises an eyebrow and turns of Zaraya. She matches his gaze and they share a singular thought.
It was going to be one of those nights.
As if acting on one thought, both of the Assamites move into action. Abdul takes a defensive posture, hands open a his sides next to the small hidden daggers at his hips. Zaraya quickly moves about the ballroom, gathering the scattered Children of Haqim to one circle around Abdul to quickly conference. Whispered words are shared as they each reveal a piece of information, and a plan of action is quickly planned. Abdul and Zaraya remain to guard the Elder, and the others quickly fan out around the room creating a web of protection in case of any danger.
His sharp eyes alerting him to the movement of a Clanmate, Abdul turns his head and whispers harshly in Arabic. "Report."
"The Malkavians have gathered in the side chamber, they are all babbling in foreign tongues but seem to be able to communicate. They have amassed a large number of papers, each has some strange scribbles or symbols. They seem to be assembling them like a puzzle, but only that Clan seems to be able to understand a thing." The fellow Assamite quickly speaks, his eyes on Abdul.
There are several moments of silence between the two, as they seem to gaze in each others face. Abdul frowns a touch before understanding the look on his Clanmates face. It was the same one he took when speaking with either Zaraya or Alim at home, the one he has given and continues to give his Sire whenever they speak. This Assamite before him was awaiting orders from a superior.
"Find me another Brother, after that do your best to spy on the Madmen. We must learn what they are doing, and if it relates to this woman in red leather. I will inform the Elder." Abdul swallows hard, his throat having gone dry. The other Assamite bows before heading off to do as directed, and it's all Abdul can do to keep an outward composure. I have never given an order to a Clanmate before. The thought swirls in his mind as he bends low to whisper in the Elder's ear before returning to his post.
Zaraya seems to have a slight smile on her face as she watches Abdul over the next several minutes. Several Assamites come back and forth between them both, relaying information to Abdul and Zaraya and receiving more orders from the duo. At times even the Sheriff steps forward to listen to his words, a whispered command sends her off on another errand. His mind still wrestles with this new sensation of authority when he turns to face the newest arrival.
Thankful that his darkened skin prevents anyone from seeing he color drain out of it, Abdul blinks rapidly as the eldest rafiq at the gathering steps forward. This black warrior has a slight frown on his face, arms crossed and a posture that radiates displeasure at some current event. Not thinking and just reacting, Abdul speaks. "Report."
"There are currently only two women matching the description of the individual we are searching for. I am unsure of their names and vital information, but can locate all of that with relative ease." The elder rafiq speaks plainly, no hint of anger in his voice.
"Excellent. Locate their names, clans, Camarilla positions and any details that the Elder might consider important then report." Abdul wastes no words in emotion, simply dictating his intent.
The elder rafiq nods his head and spins on a heel to do as instructed, and Abdul releases a held breath in relief. Who am I to give such orders, who am I to command our brothers so? The thoughts trouble him as he steps up quickly to speak with his Elder. He relays all the current information gathered, using Arabic only to minimalize any preventive leaks to the Nosferatu. The Elder, his advanced age giving him the appearance of a shining obsidian statue, remains still for what seems like years while he processes.
"Good work. Keep me informed."
That simple line causes Abdul's heart to race, his eyes shining in pride. He steps back, straightening his spine and tensing his body in preparation. Not only had he done the job suddenly thrust upon him, but he had done it with enough satisfaction to receive such praise from his Elder. A small smile creeps onto his face, causing a nearby Tremere neonate to step back nervously.
I would walk through fire for my Elder.
Abdul's First
The air was cool and damp, he could practically taste the snark and falsely sweet words in his tongue. His eyes scanned the room nervously, there were far too many entrances into this ballroom and far to many side areas for Cainites to escape and carry on with foul deeds. The stench of the Warlocks made his nose twitch when he chose to breath, and his ridgedly clenched muscles made it clear to all that walked by; Abdul Aziz ibn Christian was an Assamite ready to pounce.
"Abdul, are you well?" The familiar veiled Arabic voice of Zaraya al-Kitab rang in his ears.
"I...no, honestly not sister. This social function is not for me, not what I am trained for or prepared for. I am a rafiq amongst the Children, yet I do not know how to fight this battle..." Abdul's gaze drifts to the small cluster of Toreador chattering away, the occasional laugh puncturing the conversation.
The smile clearly in her eyes, she reaches out and touches his shoulder. "This is the life of the Camarilla, you will adjust."
He sighs, but is visibly calmed by her comforting gesture. His eyes scan around the room and catches the sight of his fellow Children of Haqim circling the room. The mic on the front podium crackles to life and Abdul shifts his gaze. He steps forward to draw out the chair for his Elder Prince, sliding the obsidian Cainite to the table. At the mention of Archon Madwell's departure to handle a security issue, Abdul raises an eyebrow and turns of Zaraya. She matches his gaze and they share a singular thought.
It was going to be one of those nights.
As if acting on one thought, both of the Assamites move into action. Abdul takes a defensive posture, hands open a his sides next to the small hidden daggers at his hips. Zaraya quickly moves about the ballroom, gathering the scattered Children of Haqim to one circle around Abdul to quickly conference. Whispered words are shared as they each reveal a piece of information, and a plan of action is quickly planned. Abdul and Zaraya remain to guard the Elder, and the others quickly fan out around the room creating a web of protection in case of any danger.
His sharp eyes alerting him to the movement of a Clanmate, Abdul turns his head and whispers harshly in Arabic. "Report."
"The Malkavians have gathered in the side chamber, they are all babbling in foreign tongues but seem to be able to communicate. They have amassed a large number of papers, each has some strange scribbles or symbols. They seem to be assembling them like a puzzle, but only that Clan seems to be able to understand a thing." The fellow Assamite quickly speaks, his eyes on Abdul.
There are several moments of silence between the two, as they seem to gaze in each others face. Abdul frowns a touch before understanding the look on his Clanmates face. It was the same one he took when speaking with either Zaraya or Alim at home, the one he has given and continues to give his Sire whenever they speak. This Assamite before him was awaiting orders from a superior.
"Find me another Brother, after that do your best to spy on the Madmen. We must learn what they are doing, and if it relates to this woman in red leather. I will inform the Elder." Abdul swallows hard, his throat having gone dry. The other Assamite bows before heading off to do as directed, and it's all Abdul can do to keep an outward composure. I have never given an order to a Clanmate before. The thought swirls in his mind as he bends low to whisper in the Elder's ear before returning to his post.
Zaraya seems to have a slight smile on her face as she watches Abdul over the next several minutes. Several Assamites come back and forth between them both, relaying information to Abdul and Zaraya and receiving more orders from the duo. At times even the Sheriff steps forward to listen to his words, a whispered command sends her off on another errand. His mind still wrestles with this new sensation of authority when he turns to face the newest arrival.
Thankful that his darkened skin prevents anyone from seeing he color drain out of it, Abdul blinks rapidly as the eldest rafiq at the gathering steps forward. This black warrior has a slight frown on his face, arms crossed and a posture that radiates displeasure at some current event. Not thinking and just reacting, Abdul speaks. "Report."
"There are currently only two women matching the description of the individual we are searching for. I am unsure of their names and vital information, but can locate all of that with relative ease." The elder rafiq speaks plainly, no hint of anger in his voice.
"Excellent. Locate their names, clans, Camarilla positions and any details that the Elder might consider important then report." Abdul wastes no words in emotion, simply dictating his intent.
The elder rafiq nods his head and spins on a heel to do as instructed, and Abdul releases a held breath in relief. Who am I to give such orders, who am I to command our brothers so? The thoughts trouble him as he steps up quickly to speak with his Elder. He relays all the current information gathered, using Arabic only to minimalize any preventive leaks to the Nosferatu. The Elder, his advanced age giving him the appearance of a shining obsidian statue, remains still for what seems like years while he processes.
"Good work. Keep me informed."
That simple line causes Abdul's heart to race, his eyes shining in pride. He steps back, straightening his spine and tensing his body in preparation. Not only had he done the job suddenly thrust upon him, but he had done it with enough satisfaction to receive such praise from his Elder. A small smile creeps onto his face, causing a nearby Tremere neonate to step back nervously.
I would walk through fire for my Elder.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
SERE post!
Well, it's Thursday so I need to post something to this blog. Today is also the first day of SERE, and I'm already busy as a beaver and quite tipsy from the bar. Thus, I shall post the most fantastic drink recipie my lovely bartender Eric has made for me :)
Banana Split
1 oz. Vodka
1 oz. Creme de banane
1 oz. Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur
1/2 oz. Strawberry syrup
Strawberry for garnish
Served with 1 crushed ice cube for texture
Banana Split
1 oz. Vodka
1 oz. Creme de banane
1 oz. Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur
1/2 oz. Strawberry syrup
Strawberry for garnish
Served with 1 crushed ice cube for texture
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Lost Tales: The Day We Never Told Gypsy About
Today's writing prompt is a story I have been promising a friend of mine named Dani for a while now, one I've never been able to finish. The title of this one is called "The Day We Never Told Gypsy About, and it's a bit over the top. Comments and such are always welcome :)
Lost Tales: The Day We Never Told Gypsy About -
8:35am:
"So, you need my help to raise 65,000 in 24 hours?" Michael arches a brow, his left hand pushing the small buggie containing the young baby Faith back and forth while his right smooths out the smallest cease in his golf silk shirt. "I am 99% sue there is no legal way to do this, and I'm babysitting while Sol and Gyps go off an do...things.." He makes a face, clearly not thrilled with thinking about the couple having any form of relations.
"Look, it's important. Not only in training for you, but for me. I need the cash to help an old friend out, and I've run outta options." Back Alley Sally shrugs as she speaks, lazily rolling a small knife in her hands like you might roll a pen. "Besides, we can take the baby with us. I mean, it's not like we're gonna rob a bank or anything. Just shake down a few guys who owe us both and we should be golden." She smiles wide, flashing her pearly white teeth and doing her best to look innocent.
Michael frowns at the smile, a shiver going up his spine. "Anytime you make that smile, someone kicks a puppy."
Sally just smiles wider, sliding the knife into a sheath on her belt. "Come on babe...just this once? This tiny little favor? All you're gonna do is watch Oprah and measure the baby for designer dresses, lets have just a tiny bit of fun." Her voice is almost sugary sweet and she blinks slowly at him.
Letting out a small sigh, Michael shakes his head and looks down at the infant. "OK...but I'm drawing the line at illegal activities. No robberies, hitting up gangs, theft or shaking down drug dealers." He counts all of the activities in front of her on his hand. "And I'm gonna use some Fate to get us on the right path for the day."
He takes a whiff of the air and grimaces. he reaches down to take old of the infant and hold her out to Sally. "And now, you get to change her."
9:22am -
Sally pushes the buggy down the block, looking generally unhappy at being so active in the daylight. "What the fuck are we doing out here, how is walking around this neighborhood earning us cash?"
"Watch your tone in front of the baby!" Michael snaps, scowling and shaking a finger at the woman. "She's very sensitive you know, she wakes up for just about anything." He takes a step up to check on her, tugging the sun shade down and adjusting her small blanket. "Besides, fate says to go this way. So I'm just kinda following the tugs."
As they round the corner, they come to an abrupt stop as a huge dog suddenly comes charging at the duo. Taken by surprise, Michael finds himself trapped beneath the massive Mastiff and is unable to defend himself as the muddy creature begins its assault with licks and drool. "Sally! Help!" Michael pleads beneath the dog, unable to stop it from staining his 200 dollar hand-spun silk shirt and tearing up his pants in its effort to paw at him and show affection.
Sally can't help but laugh, tears glistening in her eyes as she sees the pretty-boy all dirtied and muddied beneath the Mastiff. The cry of a little girl can be heard in the house they stopped in front, and the mother rushes out. "Oh, you found our dog! He's been missing for days, we had a hundred dollar reward out for him. Thank you so much." The young mother leads the dog inside, and Michael stares up at the clear blue sky as if to curse the day.
"Look on the bright side Michael, it can't get any worse?" Sally chuckles, looking down at him.
11:37am -
Michael shoots a glare at Sally, a look that promised a swift death if only his eyes could shoot daggers. He's keeling on the floor, hands behind his head like every other person at the bank, and Faith is strapped to his chest with a sling. Sally gives a small shrug, glancing at the gunmen as they make their demands to the police via cellphone. Her eyes start to glaze over, the tell-tale mark of her identifying every gunman and every bullet within the building.
Sally blinks rapidly, then tilts her head ever so slightly to look at Michael. Just the tiniest of nods escapes her, and a small smirk touches Michael's face. He starts to whisper softly in the tongue of magic, his mind forming the imagio of the curse he wishes to inflict on the 4 gunmen. A breath of air escapes him as Fate begins to turn on their side, and Sally is up standing.
The woman moves like a dervish, pulling out two knifes as she runs up onto a nearby table. She kicks aside the deposit slips as she tackles one of the gunmen, her knives cutting the gun vest off his body and making two sharp stabs into his palms to prevent the villain from holding a gun. Michael extends his hands, the two gunmen who pulled their weapons on up fire suddenly find themselves entangled in shoelace as straps catch their guns and force them to slam back into their ribs. Sally wastes no time, flipping backwards and catching one of the tabled gunmen in the head with the heel of her steel-toed boot while her knife slices clean through the Achilles tendon of the other causing both to drop in pain and anguish.
"Sally, behind!" Michael yells, but not before the final gunman manages to squeeze off a shot. She grunts as she takes the bullet in her thigh, then throws the knife perfectly aimed into his groin. The entire male population of the room winces as they see the injury, and the gunmen falls to the floor screaming in silent agony. Sally leans on her wound, muttering a few choice words (and some she's making up on the spot) to describe the incident while Michael slowly stands to walk over and grab the sack of cash. "Well, these were the guys the reward was for. That's 10 grand in the pocket." He peers into the bag and winces at the sound of a click and a poof.
Sally does her best not to chuckle as she see's the ink cartridge exploded in his face, staining the skin and hair. "Well..umm...purple looks good on you?" She starts to cackle and laugh as the police bust in.
1:49pm -
Michael pants, tired from all the running around the junkyard. He checks on the tiny bundle, still asleep amid all the explosions of metal and glass. "Trade some scrap copper for cash she said. What could be waiting for us, she asks. How about a who frickin' ZOMBIE GANG!?" he yells over at Sally as she starts to pat out the flames on her jacket and pants.
"Look, how was I supposed to know they were hiding zombies in the old vans?" She glares at him, wincing from the burn. "I mean, this isn't the kinda shit you see every day..." She darts her eyes around the corner and spies the piles of abandoned appliances. "Hey Sparks...you thinking what I'm thinking..?" A slow smile slides on her lips, like a fox who's just cornered it's favorite prey.
"Yeah...I'll go act as a distraction and you make the popcorn." Michael shakes his head, popping the bubble gum stick from his front pocket into his mouth. He chews for a few seconds, ignoring the sounds of moaning from the shuffling dead, and blows a bubble. The familiar tingle of magic fills the air as the bubble expands and grows larger by the second. It floats from his mouth and lands amid the appliances, taking the form of a wireless generator and bringing all the coffee pots and microwaves to life for one last hurrah.
Satisfied with his gum-generator, Michael holds Faith close to his chest as he dashes out in front of the shambling horde. "Alright Sally, do you thing!" He twists his head for a moment to yell back at her before leading the zombies into the death trap.
Sally goes to work, touching all the coffee pots and microwaves. She turns them all on, presses with the buttons and generally makes a valid attempt to work them. Her streak of bad luck, or in this case good luck, continues and as if by magic Sally manages to break every single last one of the scrap appliances. She dive tackles Michael from behind, opening a space portal with a whispered word and drops them both off in the former office. The resulting explosion rocks the small building, and one of the cabinets shakes open dropping the safe box filled with several thousands of dollars in 100 dollar bill stacks.
Michael looks over to Sally and just shakes his head and chuckles. "Well, we got the money it looks like. At least nothing else can go wrong now?" Before she can open her mouth, a sound of chanting emits from the "house" (if the shack used by drug dealers across the street could really be called anything remotely like a house) across the street.
Sally looks over at Michael and sets her jaw tight. She grabs a shotgun off the wall as she steps next to him, watching as the apparent gangster-themed Necromancer and his gang of Revenants steps out of the building to see what happened to their zombies. "They just don't make villains like they used to," she comments while sliding two shells into the barrel, "I mean it used to be that Necromancers had class. This guy looks like something of a 50 cent album."
"Less Spiderman, more Ironman if you please." Michael chuckles, pulling out a golden pistol covered in glitter as he looks down to ensure that Faith is safely tucked into her sling. He gently places the sling in the corner of the room and quickly fast casts the imagio of a spell in his mind. He waves a hand and removes the corner from time briefly to prevent an harm coming to the child.
"Alright, let's get Jiggy with it." Michael states, stepping up and pulling out his other gun. Sally groans and plants her face into her palm.
2:14pm -
Michael crouches behind the brunt out husk of the minivan, panting hard. He clutches the small bundle of infant, wrapped in the swaddling blanket and hanging from the sling around his neck, gently. Peering down, he ensures that every hair is perfect and every toe is fine, a small gurgle of a squeal and a spit bubble reassures Michael that the small child is fine. Sally, his current partner in crime, dives over the burned out mini-van while clinging tightly to the backpack stuffed with hundred dollar bills. She curses softly as she feels the bullet wound in her thigh and both of them give a start as the building across the street explodes.
Both young Magi peer up over the windows in the minivan, watching as the fire consumes the Necromancer and his gang of Revenants. Both look down at the sleeping baby, who blinks awake and starts to cry for her bottle. Michael unpacks the bottle from the backpack (now stuffed with hundred dollar bills as well as diapers and bottles) and inserts the nipple into the babies mouth, while gently squeezing to help with milk flow. Both Sally and Michael catch each others gaze, and there's a grim expression on their face.
"We are never, ever, telling Gypsy." They both speak in concert.
Lost Tales: The Day We Never Told Gypsy About -
8:35am:
"So, you need my help to raise 65,000 in 24 hours?" Michael arches a brow, his left hand pushing the small buggie containing the young baby Faith back and forth while his right smooths out the smallest cease in his golf silk shirt. "I am 99% sue there is no legal way to do this, and I'm babysitting while Sol and Gyps go off an do...things.." He makes a face, clearly not thrilled with thinking about the couple having any form of relations.
"Look, it's important. Not only in training for you, but for me. I need the cash to help an old friend out, and I've run outta options." Back Alley Sally shrugs as she speaks, lazily rolling a small knife in her hands like you might roll a pen. "Besides, we can take the baby with us. I mean, it's not like we're gonna rob a bank or anything. Just shake down a few guys who owe us both and we should be golden." She smiles wide, flashing her pearly white teeth and doing her best to look innocent.
Michael frowns at the smile, a shiver going up his spine. "Anytime you make that smile, someone kicks a puppy."
Sally just smiles wider, sliding the knife into a sheath on her belt. "Come on babe...just this once? This tiny little favor? All you're gonna do is watch Oprah and measure the baby for designer dresses, lets have just a tiny bit of fun." Her voice is almost sugary sweet and she blinks slowly at him.
Letting out a small sigh, Michael shakes his head and looks down at the infant. "OK...but I'm drawing the line at illegal activities. No robberies, hitting up gangs, theft or shaking down drug dealers." He counts all of the activities in front of her on his hand. "And I'm gonna use some Fate to get us on the right path for the day."
He takes a whiff of the air and grimaces. he reaches down to take old of the infant and hold her out to Sally. "And now, you get to change her."
9:22am -
Sally pushes the buggy down the block, looking generally unhappy at being so active in the daylight. "What the fuck are we doing out here, how is walking around this neighborhood earning us cash?"
"Watch your tone in front of the baby!" Michael snaps, scowling and shaking a finger at the woman. "She's very sensitive you know, she wakes up for just about anything." He takes a step up to check on her, tugging the sun shade down and adjusting her small blanket. "Besides, fate says to go this way. So I'm just kinda following the tugs."
As they round the corner, they come to an abrupt stop as a huge dog suddenly comes charging at the duo. Taken by surprise, Michael finds himself trapped beneath the massive Mastiff and is unable to defend himself as the muddy creature begins its assault with licks and drool. "Sally! Help!" Michael pleads beneath the dog, unable to stop it from staining his 200 dollar hand-spun silk shirt and tearing up his pants in its effort to paw at him and show affection.
Sally can't help but laugh, tears glistening in her eyes as she sees the pretty-boy all dirtied and muddied beneath the Mastiff. The cry of a little girl can be heard in the house they stopped in front, and the mother rushes out. "Oh, you found our dog! He's been missing for days, we had a hundred dollar reward out for him. Thank you so much." The young mother leads the dog inside, and Michael stares up at the clear blue sky as if to curse the day.
"Look on the bright side Michael, it can't get any worse?" Sally chuckles, looking down at him.
11:37am -
Michael shoots a glare at Sally, a look that promised a swift death if only his eyes could shoot daggers. He's keeling on the floor, hands behind his head like every other person at the bank, and Faith is strapped to his chest with a sling. Sally gives a small shrug, glancing at the gunmen as they make their demands to the police via cellphone. Her eyes start to glaze over, the tell-tale mark of her identifying every gunman and every bullet within the building.
Sally blinks rapidly, then tilts her head ever so slightly to look at Michael. Just the tiniest of nods escapes her, and a small smirk touches Michael's face. He starts to whisper softly in the tongue of magic, his mind forming the imagio of the curse he wishes to inflict on the 4 gunmen. A breath of air escapes him as Fate begins to turn on their side, and Sally is up standing.
The woman moves like a dervish, pulling out two knifes as she runs up onto a nearby table. She kicks aside the deposit slips as she tackles one of the gunmen, her knives cutting the gun vest off his body and making two sharp stabs into his palms to prevent the villain from holding a gun. Michael extends his hands, the two gunmen who pulled their weapons on up fire suddenly find themselves entangled in shoelace as straps catch their guns and force them to slam back into their ribs. Sally wastes no time, flipping backwards and catching one of the tabled gunmen in the head with the heel of her steel-toed boot while her knife slices clean through the Achilles tendon of the other causing both to drop in pain and anguish.
"Sally, behind!" Michael yells, but not before the final gunman manages to squeeze off a shot. She grunts as she takes the bullet in her thigh, then throws the knife perfectly aimed into his groin. The entire male population of the room winces as they see the injury, and the gunmen falls to the floor screaming in silent agony. Sally leans on her wound, muttering a few choice words (and some she's making up on the spot) to describe the incident while Michael slowly stands to walk over and grab the sack of cash. "Well, these were the guys the reward was for. That's 10 grand in the pocket." He peers into the bag and winces at the sound of a click and a poof.
Sally does her best not to chuckle as she see's the ink cartridge exploded in his face, staining the skin and hair. "Well..umm...purple looks good on you?" She starts to cackle and laugh as the police bust in.
1:49pm -
Michael pants, tired from all the running around the junkyard. He checks on the tiny bundle, still asleep amid all the explosions of metal and glass. "Trade some scrap copper for cash she said. What could be waiting for us, she asks. How about a who frickin' ZOMBIE GANG!?" he yells over at Sally as she starts to pat out the flames on her jacket and pants.
"Look, how was I supposed to know they were hiding zombies in the old vans?" She glares at him, wincing from the burn. "I mean, this isn't the kinda shit you see every day..." She darts her eyes around the corner and spies the piles of abandoned appliances. "Hey Sparks...you thinking what I'm thinking..?" A slow smile slides on her lips, like a fox who's just cornered it's favorite prey.
"Yeah...I'll go act as a distraction and you make the popcorn." Michael shakes his head, popping the bubble gum stick from his front pocket into his mouth. He chews for a few seconds, ignoring the sounds of moaning from the shuffling dead, and blows a bubble. The familiar tingle of magic fills the air as the bubble expands and grows larger by the second. It floats from his mouth and lands amid the appliances, taking the form of a wireless generator and bringing all the coffee pots and microwaves to life for one last hurrah.
Satisfied with his gum-generator, Michael holds Faith close to his chest as he dashes out in front of the shambling horde. "Alright Sally, do you thing!" He twists his head for a moment to yell back at her before leading the zombies into the death trap.
Sally goes to work, touching all the coffee pots and microwaves. She turns them all on, presses with the buttons and generally makes a valid attempt to work them. Her streak of bad luck, or in this case good luck, continues and as if by magic Sally manages to break every single last one of the scrap appliances. She dive tackles Michael from behind, opening a space portal with a whispered word and drops them both off in the former office. The resulting explosion rocks the small building, and one of the cabinets shakes open dropping the safe box filled with several thousands of dollars in 100 dollar bill stacks.
Michael looks over to Sally and just shakes his head and chuckles. "Well, we got the money it looks like. At least nothing else can go wrong now?" Before she can open her mouth, a sound of chanting emits from the "house" (if the shack used by drug dealers across the street could really be called anything remotely like a house) across the street.
Sally looks over at Michael and sets her jaw tight. She grabs a shotgun off the wall as she steps next to him, watching as the apparent gangster-themed Necromancer and his gang of Revenants steps out of the building to see what happened to their zombies. "They just don't make villains like they used to," she comments while sliding two shells into the barrel, "I mean it used to be that Necromancers had class. This guy looks like something of a 50 cent album."
"Less Spiderman, more Ironman if you please." Michael chuckles, pulling out a golden pistol covered in glitter as he looks down to ensure that Faith is safely tucked into her sling. He gently places the sling in the corner of the room and quickly fast casts the imagio of a spell in his mind. He waves a hand and removes the corner from time briefly to prevent an harm coming to the child.
"Alright, let's get Jiggy with it." Michael states, stepping up and pulling out his other gun. Sally groans and plants her face into her palm.
2:14pm -
Michael crouches behind the brunt out husk of the minivan, panting hard. He clutches the small bundle of infant, wrapped in the swaddling blanket and hanging from the sling around his neck, gently. Peering down, he ensures that every hair is perfect and every toe is fine, a small gurgle of a squeal and a spit bubble reassures Michael that the small child is fine. Sally, his current partner in crime, dives over the burned out mini-van while clinging tightly to the backpack stuffed with hundred dollar bills. She curses softly as she feels the bullet wound in her thigh and both of them give a start as the building across the street explodes.
Both young Magi peer up over the windows in the minivan, watching as the fire consumes the Necromancer and his gang of Revenants. Both look down at the sleeping baby, who blinks awake and starts to cry for her bottle. Michael unpacks the bottle from the backpack (now stuffed with hundred dollar bills as well as diapers and bottles) and inserts the nipple into the babies mouth, while gently squeezing to help with milk flow. Both Sally and Michael catch each others gaze, and there's a grim expression on their face.
"We are never, ever, telling Gypsy." They both speak in concert.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Old things
I know I promised to update on Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday...but I felt like tossing this up here today. I was going through my Livejournal and looking upon the horror that was my teenage angst. Most of my writing in those days was done in notebooks, the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil always seems to have done wonders for my creativity, and thus I have lost a lot of my early works. I have a few pieces here I decided to take the time and clean up a little, kinda a where I've come from I guess. I still intend on doing a Tuesday update, but here's two blasts from the past:
A poem from November of 2004 -
Never awaken O dreamer.
Do not fret your wasteful tears
nor futile struggles on desires unneeded.
For here in this land of madness,
this is where the truth shall forever rest.
Allow yourself to slip away,
do not raise your silken hair or
have worry touch your breast.
Forever dream of rose buds unfolding;
to bloom before the moon is the goal.
For while you walk the endless dream, you are a raw gem;
your soul unshattered, your body once again perfection.
Quartz holds its own natural beauty
when uncut from the rock, still allowing the sun
to catch its spires.
If you awaken O dreamer, you must face the world.
Your tender rose must weather the chills
And last throughout the long fall.
Your stone will be cut and scattered,
You will experience pains.
Tears will flood down your cheeks,
Mighty rapids birthed from your soul.
And you will feel each ebb and flow.
Stay within O dreamer, away from the sun.
Let not your flower wilt in heat,
dance and spin under the light of the moon.
Let your gem remain perfect.
Never awaken.
Song lyrics from February of 2005 -
The song these lyrics are written to is called My Only Wish by Les Aldrich. you cna find a recording here (http://www.jwpepper.com/2472536.item).
I have one thing deep inside
A true feeling I cannot hide
Just one dream I wish to share
My only wish
My only wish consumes my soul
My only wish is for us both
I know my heart speaks the truth
Cause I love you
(guy) there is a wish down deep inside (girl) One I just cannot hide
(guy) Two love birds perched side by side (girl) I've dreampt of it nightly
(guy) A desire this night (girl) that you'll be here again
(both) To hold my hands
And, when the love in our lives
(girl) fully blooms (guy) a rose will be put to shame
My only wish I have for you
Is you by my side
(guy) There is something I wish to say (girl) My soul it longs for you
(guy) My heart races along with yours (girl) My pulse its moving so quick
(guy) My breath is rushing out so fast (girl) I need to catch my breath
(both) Your beauty makes my heart skip a beat!
My one wish is for your love
To hold you close and feel secure
My only wish I truly know
Because of your love
My only wish for you
My only wish for me
My only wish is this
That you'll be here tonight
* * * *
I like looking back on what I've done, and where I've been. It's a bit refreshing, really, to see improvement in my writing and such. Hopefully tomorrow's update will be in before 6pm!
A poem from November of 2004 -
Never awaken O dreamer.
Do not fret your wasteful tears
nor futile struggles on desires unneeded.
For here in this land of madness,
this is where the truth shall forever rest.
Allow yourself to slip away,
do not raise your silken hair or
have worry touch your breast.
Forever dream of rose buds unfolding;
to bloom before the moon is the goal.
For while you walk the endless dream, you are a raw gem;
your soul unshattered, your body once again perfection.
Quartz holds its own natural beauty
when uncut from the rock, still allowing the sun
to catch its spires.
If you awaken O dreamer, you must face the world.
Your tender rose must weather the chills
And last throughout the long fall.
Your stone will be cut and scattered,
You will experience pains.
Tears will flood down your cheeks,
Mighty rapids birthed from your soul.
And you will feel each ebb and flow.
Stay within O dreamer, away from the sun.
Let not your flower wilt in heat,
dance and spin under the light of the moon.
Let your gem remain perfect.
Never awaken.
Song lyrics from February of 2005 -
The song these lyrics are written to is called My Only Wish by Les Aldrich. you cna find a recording here (http://www.jwpepper.com/2472536.item).
I have one thing deep inside
A true feeling I cannot hide
Just one dream I wish to share
My only wish
My only wish consumes my soul
My only wish is for us both
I know my heart speaks the truth
Cause I love you
(guy) there is a wish down deep inside (girl) One I just cannot hide
(guy) Two love birds perched side by side (girl) I've dreampt of it nightly
(guy) A desire this night (girl) that you'll be here again
(both) To hold my hands
And, when the love in our lives
(girl) fully blooms (guy) a rose will be put to shame
My only wish I have for you
Is you by my side
(guy) There is something I wish to say (girl) My soul it longs for you
(guy) My heart races along with yours (girl) My pulse its moving so quick
(guy) My breath is rushing out so fast (girl) I need to catch my breath
(both) Your beauty makes my heart skip a beat!
My one wish is for your love
To hold you close and feel secure
My only wish I truly know
Because of your love
My only wish for you
My only wish for me
My only wish is this
That you'll be here tonight
* * * *
I like looking back on what I've done, and where I've been. It's a bit refreshing, really, to see improvement in my writing and such. Hopefully tomorrow's update will be in before 6pm!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
All trips start with a first step
Greetings!
Thank for coming to view my blog, this is my starting entry to what I think will be an exciting time :). My name is Chris, I'm your host for this journey into creation. Welcome to the blog, and I hope you have a good time enjoying what I create for you!
I figure my first entry should be a bit of about me I suppose. I'm nearly 25 and male, living here in sunny Florida and working for Big Papa as a shift manager. I have darling girlfriend who I may or may not use for a muse in writings on occasion, and I like to attempt photography (but I've never been able to take pictures well). I've always been one to create, the type of creation being the main difference. Music, poetry, food recipes, prose...all good and fun stuff. I'm a horrid physical craftier though, so please don't ask me to paint or sculpt :p.
So...I've hit a slump. A shell, like somethings blocking me from thinking. It's been so hard for me to create anything creatively for months, I've got notebooks and word documents strewn about that are all half written in or noodled with. A friend suggested I started a writing blog, something that I force myself to update with SOMETHING creative several times a week. Hopefully it'll get the juices flowing again (for the spice must flow, yo). I'm gonna go with an update schedule of Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday, at what time I'm unsure because my work schedule is finicky at best. Either mornings or late in the evenings is the best I got folks.
So yeah...I'm not feeling too hot this afternoon, I think I'm coming down with a cold or some such. Gonna go rest, I got a busy day today and I need to be at full strength! If any of my followers have any suggestions as to writing prompts or recipes to post or anything creative in general...I'm more than happy to use them as springboards :).
Till next time!
Thank for coming to view my blog, this is my starting entry to what I think will be an exciting time :). My name is Chris, I'm your host for this journey into creation. Welcome to the blog, and I hope you have a good time enjoying what I create for you!
I figure my first entry should be a bit of about me I suppose. I'm nearly 25 and male, living here in sunny Florida and working for Big Papa as a shift manager. I have darling girlfriend who I may or may not use for a muse in writings on occasion, and I like to attempt photography (but I've never been able to take pictures well). I've always been one to create, the type of creation being the main difference. Music, poetry, food recipes, prose...all good and fun stuff. I'm a horrid physical craftier though, so please don't ask me to paint or sculpt :p.
So...I've hit a slump. A shell, like somethings blocking me from thinking. It's been so hard for me to create anything creatively for months, I've got notebooks and word documents strewn about that are all half written in or noodled with. A friend suggested I started a writing blog, something that I force myself to update with SOMETHING creative several times a week. Hopefully it'll get the juices flowing again (for the spice must flow, yo). I'm gonna go with an update schedule of Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday, at what time I'm unsure because my work schedule is finicky at best. Either mornings or late in the evenings is the best I got folks.
So yeah...I'm not feeling too hot this afternoon, I think I'm coming down with a cold or some such. Gonna go rest, I got a busy day today and I need to be at full strength! If any of my followers have any suggestions as to writing prompts or recipes to post or anything creative in general...I'm more than happy to use them as springboards :).
Till next time!
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