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Shadow Siege Forums Community Blog List http://www.ss-forums.com/new-forums/index.php?automodule=blog Community Blog List Syndication Mon, 24 Jun 2019 14:44:42 -0700 cernunnos@shadowsiege.com (Shadow Siege Forums) Invision Community Blog 60 Blogs of Rylian - New Update - Junaal Junaal
Legacy of Greatness Lost]]>
Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:08:34 -0700
<![CDATA[Orion's Blog - Aubren's Final Thoughts]]>
Judgement.

For a long while I clung to the idea that I might be allowed to return again to the land of living and continue my quest. I was willing to do anything, sacrifice anything to the Dark Queen in order to be returned, but I have been graced by Her enough times already to know that cannot happen. Besides, there's a limit to how much evil I can commit in trying to bring about a better future.

I had so much I wanted to do, but I did only what I could. With no help to speak of, I did what I could to fight the corruption in Telantha. It was my war, against that, and the Vek'pem Ahyre. A single man's war is still a war and I pray the Dark Queen will take that into account when She judges me.

It gives me some comfort to know that when I no longer exist, at least, one day, there will be someone else to rise up in my place. The Well is eternal and my spiritual energy will eventually be recycled and given new form. I pray that whatever being inhabits this spark - the desire to make the world a better place - handles the trials better than I did. Then again, I could be a rock, but eventually if I am made sentient again, that is what I'd wish for. Maybe that spark exists in all of us. I feel that it must do, otherwise our choices would mean nothing, and there would be no need for judgement.

I am not angry anymore. I feel a sense of peace and the desire to go. These are my final thoughts as 'Aubren.' Goodbye my daughter, goodbye mother, goodbye father... I wish you well.]]>
Thu, 21 Aug 2008 12:19:54 -0700
The Characters of Another - Cursed, Blessed; The Masked Jackal Samael
Go ahead and clean up my nests, Telantha. There's an overabundance of bedding available; I can always paint a new one, a different wall. The Masked Jackal will see all, be all, in the end anyway.

I was content only a few years ago to lurk in the shadows and take only little, to stay in the back of society and ultimately do nothing. I actually stopped counting the years it had been since I'd taken mortal life. Mortals really seemed to hate it when I do that. But that's changed. If they're going to cage me simply for what I am, then I must defend myself. It is not their fault, I know, but ignorance is still ignorance even if it is taught. And most are beyond redemption. Better to put them down than to let them suffer. It is mercy.

For now, though, I will contemplate Emeraude's comb.]]>
Mon, 26 May 2008 18:25:08 -0700
Resurrect Reflection - Return My Character
Found.

Disappear.

Return.

I'm back again, within the city walls. Though I've no more clues about what happened then when I left to search them out. Seems my memory about that time while I was away won't likely return as easily as my memory of past friends after meeting them again. And even then, I know I haven't re-met everyone I had known. There are still blurred images of people in my mind. I don't know if they'll clear up, if I'll ever see any of them again.

But that is in my past, and per suggestion of a new friend, I'm trying to move on. Though I haven't seen her since my return. I'm not sure she's still around either. Then again, I can't say I'm sure any of my friends, new or remembered, are still around. I've only seen a few people since I've returned, and none of them were people I knew previously.

Moving on is nice, but I'd like some ties to my past, however few there may be. It lets me know that I have a past of some sort. Keeps me somewhat grounded, gives me a point of reference. I know where it would be that I'd be able to find some of them, assuming that hasn't changed, and they are still around. I suppose I'll just have to make my way out there and check on it. I should actively try myself grounded, at least a little bit.]]>
Sat, 17 May 2008 13:11:00 -0700
The Characters of Another - Cursed, Blessed: The Cage And The Masked Jackal Samael
...

...for a very long time...

...For a very, very long time...

He sees. He hears. I know He does. I have never doubted Him, and I never will. The Rest be forsaken, for They have forsaken me. I know only Him now, and it's all I ever wanted.

Still, this cage is downright suffocating. I pray, in my weaker moments, for freedom. I don't think there's any shame in that. I yearn to wrap my lips around succulent flesh, to eat and drink. I yearn to run loose again, to be the terror I once was.

But I've lost my touch. To be soundly smitten by a filthy half-breed... I'd slept too long. I had rusted at the joints. I was hungry, not in my right mind. I should have stayed my hand, bided my time. But I didn't, and now I'm here. Just me and The Masked Jackal. Everyone else has forgotten me. Or learned to stay away.

...

A fleeting thought. I remember once, a long time ago, I was told by some crackpot shaman that I was born under a bad star. I had stumbled into a tent in my inebriated state (ahh, how vividly I remember wine) and there he was. A withered old Blue-Skin. I was under the impression that there was no such thing as an old Blue-Skin, that they always managed to kill themselves young. But there he was.

He told me all about how all my misfortune, tradgedy and pain weren't my fault, that the Heavens and the Powers That Be simply had overlooked me. It was nobody's fault, he said. Even the immortal Gods could not see everything all the time. I was born during the moment They just happened to glance away, and thus had eluded Their sight, Their grace. I called him a heathen and spat in his face.

I admitted to him, months and months later, that he was right. Mostly. They had never once even glanced in my direction, and much of my sorrow was born from having prayers never answered, no wish ever granted. But I had found, after all my years of searching, One who heard me. He turned an ear, He heard my plight, and He sympathized. I told the crackpot shaman what I had earned and how I had been blessed. I poured my heart and soul onto him, let him in on every dark secret, opened up my closet and let him see all my skeletons, and when he finally screamed in terror I rammed my sword through his chest.]]>
Fri, 02 May 2008 05:11:52 -0700
My Symphonie Fantastique - Quick Update ]]> Thu, 24 Apr 2008 14:57:09 -0700 Blogs of Rylian - Update - Junaal
Legacy of Greatness Lost]]>
Tue, 08 Apr 2008 19:52:03 -0700
The Characters of Another - Of Small Sin: Wine Jake
Wendiharan... I feel like I should be doing something to honor her memory, but all I really do these days is drink. There are people out there courteous enough to pay me for my services, small as they are. I otherwise manage to eek by on savings from a time that seems long past. I know damn well that if I were to spend even a penny in the wrong place, I could ill afford to pay rent next month. I know, I know, I know but... I keep finding a bottle in my arms at night. What did I do with the day? I don't recall...

I vividly remember watching some astounding performance in a bar somewhere. One of the fancy bars with a stage for performances. Some sort of elaborate play? They were bending, contorting their bodies. I wish I could remember the details. I probably didn't appreciate it very much. There were words spoken about a festival to a man I don't really know. Can't remember his name anymore. His face either. I said I'd bring the family. I think I slept through it.

What the hell time is it? I squint and stare through my window. Dusk, by my best guess. I think. The window is so grimey these days I really can't see through it. I turned my bleary vision to the rest of the room.

With a jolt like lightning I sat bolt upright. Eyes were watching me from the floor, eyes that glinted strangely in the moot light. Demons? No, no it can't be. Demons don't go through doors, demons would have killed me in my sleep, and demons have not even been reported inside the city walls in... a year?

It was a mistake to sit up, in any case. Hangovers hurt. My head hurt something aweful. I clasped it in my hands, moaning loudly. I shifted, swayed in a wide arc, tried to stand up and get out of bed but ended up slamming my head against the corner of the headrest before I toppled off onto the floor, landing on my elbows and getting tangled in my blanket.

Shrill laughter. Cackling, almost. Can little girls cackle? If they can, it sounds like this. Spica found all this to be fucking hilarious. Auva was laughing, too, but not so much at me, I think. I hope. I saved face with myself by telling myself that Auva was actually laughing only because Spica was laughing, and not because of my misfortune. Auva always seems to follow in Spica's wavelengths anyway, so in my nauseated and confused state, this all made sense. Syrma observed with polite disinterest.

With a hefty sigh I got up, disassembling myself from my blanket, getting into touch with reality again. Straightening up, if you will. I checked myself. Still clothed. Must have passed out the moment I laid down in bed, the moment I got through the door. What time was it really? I opened the door. Dusk. Someone must have set my internal clock without telling me.

In any event, these three should have been in bed already. Where were their mothers? I jostled around the room, found a scrap of paper tossed carelessly into a corner. Unusual. I picked it up. "Shop," I read aloud. That was the only word on it. The rest was a crude drawing of what I can only surmise to be three women holding hands. The one on the right had a basket in her free hand. Or a writhing squid. I couldn't really tell.

It conveyed the message it needed to, though. Annie, Candice and Patricia had gone out for the day under the pretense of shopping. Why they left the message in a corner of the room instead of on the counter I could not figure out. I also could not figure out why they left their daughters alone in the house with their drunken, passed-out father, presumably for at least a couple hours. Then I remembered that, between the three of them, they shared only a scrap of motherly instincts. The scenario made a little more sense now. They're good women, mind you. Just... really no clue sometimes.

In any case, the children would be hungry before they went to bed. I threw together something simple to eat, I don't even remember what. Mashed it up good for Syrma. We all ate in relative quiet; I had nothing to say. Spica and Auva exchanged broken conversation, the way very young children do. Wide, frantic gestures and sentences formed half from random words and half from grunts. Syrma just watched a bug crawl along the floor as she ate.

Then it was time for bed. I took each of them to their respective rooms, one at a time, Syrma first, then Auva, then Spica, youngest to oldest. I tucked them in. Kissed them goodnight. They seemed content enough. I still had a headache.

I sat back down on my bed, tried to think of something to do. Maybe I could check in with a long-term patient. Maybe I could go to the gardens and relax, get some fresh air. Maybe I could go fuck somebody. Then I remembered that I had no long-term patients, I didn't much care for the gardens without somebody to fuck in the flowerbeds, and, above all else, I had nobody to fuck. I was an Elbahnite with no game these days, and it was showing.

I reached into my backpack, pulled out a bottle. It was almost empty, just barely enough for one small glass. I considered getting more, decided I'd decide on that later. The southern door creaked open.

Spica stuck her head through the crack, yawning. "What is it, honey? You should be asleep."

"You not kiss."

"Didn't I?" I'm pretty sure I didn't forget to kiss her goodnight. Well... I think I didn't. I got up, absent-mindedly bringing the glass with me as I returned with Spica to her room.

"What dat?" she asked, pointing sleepily at my wine.

"It's wine, sugar. Daddy likes drinking it."

"I d'ink. I d'ink."

I considered. Spica has a penchant for getting riled up about the things she wants, begging and pleading even if she knows she'll never get whatever it happens to be. I didn't need that this late at night, so I just gave in. A sip shouldn't hurt anything.

I lowered the glass for her, knelt down. She leaned forward, put her lips to the rim, then sneezed. Spica drew back, rubbing her nose, wrinkling her face. "Smell yucky."

"Well, sweetheart, you don't have to try it if you don't want to." She'd already lost interest and was climbing into bed. I tucked her in. This time I definately kissed her goodnight.

I went back to my room, the front room, to my bed. I sat down. I swirled the wine, gave it a sniff. It smelled like wine. I took a sip. I spat it out.


There was a Spica booger in my last glass of wine.]]>
Wed, 06 Feb 2008 03:56:43 -0800
Lab Notes of the Fire Mage - Discovery Recollections
I digress. The point was that on this fateful spring day, I was discovered by my old master. I suppose I should give you a bit more background. My parents went along with whatever it was they did. I was young then, and didn't really care. To tell you the truth, I never really did. Wealthy enough to get me an education, yet not enough to make us live a life of luxury. They managed to negotiate with a scholar, and got me into school. I was to learn to read and write, and probably get stuck in some dreadful Omuit monastery for the rest of my existence.

Instead, upon arriving at school, I quickly began to show the signs of my most obvious genius, and, when I came to be the age of ten, my master pulled myself and another child, whose name is quite unimportant, aside, having recognized our potential for having a talent in kha weaving. He took me on himself, and assigned the other child to another master to learn how to make ice or something. Again, not important. I began to learn all I could about the manipulation of kha, even meeting Scarlet there, an old flame (ah, how I amuse myself with my puns.. flame, me being a fire mage, and all...) who has since gone away with some gigantic muscle that happened to be a guard captain for a while.

He carefully instructed me in the basics of kha weaving: pronunciation, basic runes, how to ground a spell, and what the consequences of failing a spell could be. I also learned some basic alchemy in those first days. but I'm supposed to be speaking of the first day.

The first day, he tossed a book on my desk and instructed me to memorize it. Oh, it was a great book, one that I wish I still had, but, alas, was destroyed with the rest of Yarsin. It described the anatomy of a spell, the nature of kha weaving, and how it flows through a person (which I thought seemed rather obvious-- this atually ended up being a boon, seeing as I am quite adept at it.) It also described the first spell every magic student learns: detection of magic. Now, being in a magic school, it should be rather easy to do this, and it was. But, while some of the other pupils struggled with the spell, I quickly learned how to cast it that very day, though not particularly well.

Anyhow, I'm bored, now, and don't particularly like you. Story's over. Go away before I melt your face.]]>
Tue, 08 Jan 2008 22:45:07 -0800
My Symphonie Fantastique - Happy Holidays :) I'm leaving this morning (in about 15 minutes, actually, just have to run the last load out to the car), and I'll be gone for 3-4 weeks, I don't know yet exactly when I'm coming back, because it depends on the job that I'll be working next semester. I hope that everyone has a wonderful holidays, and don't have too much fun roleplaying without me ;-)]]> Fri, 14 Dec 2007 05:55:54 -0800