It was flipping amazing though.
Today I'll be updating about the current travail darkly staining the canvas of my life with its coffee (ie: Nasty) smellingness. Car shopping...especially used car shopping. To quote another master, of the force, "You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Most of you already know I've been used car shopping, but few of you know all the details. So, with that in mind, here are some details.
The first day we (Lina and I) went shopping, we had a very unstructured, loose approach. Drive down High Way 80, check out the car lots, and stop if we see a car we like/prices we like. Our first stop was quite possibly the worst stop. It was at a small lot, where we noticed a Honda Accord, but a general lack of prices. That has since become our first warning sign; if there are no prices posted, odds are that they're too high for the likes of me. Anyhoosen, we looked about, and wondered at the prices, and then came the salesman.
I think salesman have a n00b instinct...either that or Lina and I generate an aura of "I don't know what I'm doing" ness. We listened to quite a long spiel about how no one in town was trustworthy but him, how we should be careful, not to rush into things, and other things ad nauseum. That was not fun. (Since this is many days later, I'm going to start compressing things)
Next up in our memorable experiences was another oily salesman, one we almost bought a car from just to shut him up. But then we did research and were perturbed...so no deal. It was a Pontiac Montana...avoid those, my friend. They like dying catastrophically. We had a pretty good run of non-traumatic experiences. Then came...excitement.
We had, by this point, realized I don't fit in many cars. Something about my 194 centimeter frame makes me a hard fit. Anyways, we figured out that...dun da DUN! I fit in Ford Crown Victorias. So, when we saw a crown vic (for short, as it were) on a lot...we decided to try it. It was a nice ride, lemme tell you. So, we were pretty pleased with initial inspection, and promised to come back.
So we did.
We began a closer inspection of it, and discovered a few disturbing facts. First off, it had > 190K miles on it. That's kind of a lot. Then, we discovered that the tires were...hilariously mismatched. One was thicker than the others, there were two different load ratings, and three different speed ratings. Not to mention they were all a different brand of tire. This was, of course a little alarming to us, so we attempted to talk the man down from his $3250 stance. No dice.
The man assured us the mileage was not a concern: "It's highway miles! See how clean the upholstery is, and how nice pedals are? Can't have been city miles, so must be amazing!" Backing off from that, we brought up the tires, to his not-caring. "Yeah, I did it on the cheap! Still perfectly good!" Actually, SIR, not. Perfect. ly. Good. Anyways, he then started launching off into...ironically...tactics mentioned by the pontiac dealer. Great. <_< he had been right. Anyways, we beat feet and hoped the got hit by something that would make him change his ways.
HOWEVER, all hope was not lost. You see, the reason we knew I fit in Crvics (for shorter) is that I had tried it in a former police car, at another dealer. At that dealer, we had also tried out a suburban...and were impressed. This dealer was a lot better than Mr. "I eat babies and also sell cars badly," and the Suburban was a better price, with less problems. So, hopefully, we'll buy it on monday. Even more hopefully it's the right one. So, here's to the future! May it contain the right car, and may it not contain a wolverine eating my pants. And my leg inside the pants. And maybe my foot too, depending on how enterprising the wolverine is.
--Flynn is not your mom.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Wild Card 1: Or, week 3's required update.
STOP! BEFORE YOU READ ANY FURTHER, WATCH THESE THREE VIDEOS, IN ORDER:
Link 1
Link 2
Link 3
Now that you have some idea of what I'll continue with, let the spoilers begin!
So, overwhelming majority voted for Re5 insights... Let's start with the beginning. Some of this will be review for some of you, some of this will be new.
The movie was filmed in one day, last may, at Lake O' the Pines. Peter and I went camping, with the express intent to film this movie. The script was never written; we (mostly me) formed the skeleton of the plot, applied it to both characters, got a few basic ideas beforehand, then let the cameras roll and ad-libbed. It was a very relaxed shoot, though sadly not one prone to bloopers creation. There was like only one blooper I remember in the dialog shots that called for a reshoot...largely because I started laughing. In Hero's lunch dialog, Peter started it off once with "I was craving some serious Varmints!" Instead of, you know, vittles.
Also, in case anyone asks about my role as "Self Injurer?" when we headed back to campsite for lunch, I tripped over a small fence and severely bruised inside of leg/scraped shin. I could barely walk for an hour, which is what in the end caused the Final Battle to be moved. Also, the meals we mentioned? All were true to life. For breakfast we had summer sausage (which I'd accidentally refrigerated), Omlettes in bags (which didn't cook properly, and therefor were in fact very slimy) and hot dogs for supper. (I didn't steal mine though)
Also, Peter refused to do anything once we had it filmed. So, I did all the editing. Another funny moment on set was not too long after we got the "blue screen" set up, some campground people came over and asked us what we were doing. I explained we were filming a movie, using the tarp as a blue screen, and he asked what kind of movie it was. I told him it was a comedy, and he looked a bit more enlightened, said "ooooh" and left. After he was gone Peter said, "Man, I was going to tell him it was a romantic comedy!"
There was a beat's pause, and I said, "Uhm, Peter? It's just you and me. Two guys." At that point Peter realized what he would have said, and we both burst out laughing. I can't speak for him, but for me it was half amusement half extreme gladness he hadn't, in fact, said that.
Um...insights...So, this will probably be the last movie I make. Not only am *I* more busy now, Peter more busy, but I doubt he'd want to dust off the Hero mantle again. And, to be honest, it's probably for the best. I simply don't have the talent/resources to make really good movies, so I may as well let it sink into the realm of "Discarded hobbies" where it belongs. So long, movie making. It's been fun.
---Flynn, the Hobo with a Home.
Link 1
Link 2
Link 3
Now that you have some idea of what I'll continue with, let the spoilers begin!
So, overwhelming majority voted for Re5 insights... Let's start with the beginning. Some of this will be review for some of you, some of this will be new.
The movie was filmed in one day, last may, at Lake O' the Pines. Peter and I went camping, with the express intent to film this movie. The script was never written; we (mostly me) formed the skeleton of the plot, applied it to both characters, got a few basic ideas beforehand, then let the cameras roll and ad-libbed. It was a very relaxed shoot, though sadly not one prone to bloopers creation. There was like only one blooper I remember in the dialog shots that called for a reshoot...largely because I started laughing. In Hero's lunch dialog, Peter started it off once with "I was craving some serious Varmints!" Instead of, you know, vittles.
Also, in case anyone asks about my role as "Self Injurer?" when we headed back to campsite for lunch, I tripped over a small fence and severely bruised inside of leg/scraped shin. I could barely walk for an hour, which is what in the end caused the Final Battle to be moved. Also, the meals we mentioned? All were true to life. For breakfast we had summer sausage (which I'd accidentally refrigerated), Omlettes in bags (which didn't cook properly, and therefor were in fact very slimy) and hot dogs for supper. (I didn't steal mine though)
Also, Peter refused to do anything once we had it filmed. So, I did all the editing. Another funny moment on set was not too long after we got the "blue screen" set up, some campground people came over and asked us what we were doing. I explained we were filming a movie, using the tarp as a blue screen, and he asked what kind of movie it was. I told him it was a comedy, and he looked a bit more enlightened, said "ooooh" and left. After he was gone Peter said, "Man, I was going to tell him it was a romantic comedy!"
There was a beat's pause, and I said, "Uhm, Peter? It's just you and me. Two guys." At that point Peter realized what he would have said, and we both burst out laughing. I can't speak for him, but for me it was half amusement half extreme gladness he hadn't, in fact, said that.
Um...insights...So, this will probably be the last movie I make. Not only am *I* more busy now, Peter more busy, but I doubt he'd want to dust off the Hero mantle again. And, to be honest, it's probably for the best. I simply don't have the talent/resources to make really good movies, so I may as well let it sink into the realm of "Discarded hobbies" where it belongs. So long, movie making. It's been fun.
---Flynn, the Hobo with a Home.
Not Your Contractual Update Yet
As the title indicates, this isn't what you voted for yet. That comes later.
Today is an In Memoriam post. Yesterday, after working for a good part of the day (and sleeping in for the first time in months) I got home and realized my finches were still all covered up. I uncovered them, fed and watered them (Jezebel in her cage, and all the other finches in their cage.) It was then I realized that something was wrong. The five birds in the big cage weren't eating or drinking, or even beeping. I looked down and saw two of them, dead. I banged on the cage, and there was no response. I looked in the house and saw the rest of them dead.
I don't think even I realized how much I cared for those little birdies...I buried them, tears making it hard to see the hole. I didn't dig it as deep as I might like, but the shovel was too short. *sighs* Poor little birdies. No one has any idea what killed them...Jezebel, that troubler of Israel, was left alive. Ah well. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You hurt people twice when you stab them with rust.
To Jenricka, Jareth, Jean Luc, Hawkeye, and Hughes...rest in peace, birdie buddies.
Today is an In Memoriam post. Yesterday, after working for a good part of the day (and sleeping in for the first time in months) I got home and realized my finches were still all covered up. I uncovered them, fed and watered them (Jezebel in her cage, and all the other finches in their cage.) It was then I realized that something was wrong. The five birds in the big cage weren't eating or drinking, or even beeping. I looked down and saw two of them, dead. I banged on the cage, and there was no response. I looked in the house and saw the rest of them dead.
I don't think even I realized how much I cared for those little birdies...I buried them, tears making it hard to see the hole. I didn't dig it as deep as I might like, but the shovel was too short. *sighs* Poor little birdies. No one has any idea what killed them...Jezebel, that troubler of Israel, was left alive. Ah well. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You hurt people twice when you stab them with rust.
To Jenricka, Jareth, Jean Luc, Hawkeye, and Hughes...rest in peace, birdie buddies.
Some Mood Music: My Favorite Hymn
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Who would be called Rameses II when they could be called Ozzymandias? Seriously.
*Enjoys making obscure literary jokes and such*
This is what I have been doing, click to expand:
Just as a note, I have since modified these slightly. They are a bit more cluttered/less orderly looking, but more functional now.
This is what I have been doing, click to expand:
Just as a note, I have since modified these slightly. They are a bit more cluttered/less orderly looking, but more functional now.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Award: One (or weekly entry, two)
So, I have thought for...a while...about this. A day or two ago, when the poll looked pretty decisive in favor of Award, I thought "What shall you award, Flynny boy?" and settled on...*bum ba da bum bum BUM BUM!!!* Best Villain that Actually Scared Me!
Now, normal Modus Operandi for these entries will consist of a runners up first, then followed by the actual winner. So, first we have our runners up. It's...oh my goodness, I can't believe it! It's
The Reaper, from "Elfstones of Shannara," by Terry Brooks
Now, for those of you unfamiliar with the work of Mr. Brooks, he writes exclusively about the Fantasy Realm of Shannara, a fictional world...OR IS IT? The books hinted heavily (And, in later installments, explicitly explained) that it is in fact our world, except fundamentally altered by nuclear war, which somehow made magic exist and mutated men into four races: Normal men (Ok, they didn't mutate into that, but whatever) Trolls, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Elves are the only truly non mannish race, and it turns out THEY'RE WATCHING US AS WE SPEAK. Er, but I digress. Mr. Brooks however has a few issues...for instance, his love affair with "wordlessly." He uses it at least four times every five chapters, with a sprinkling of "soundlessly" to add what HE calls variety. His earlier books also were very much derivative of Lord of the Rings, somewhat to their detriment. However, in his second book, "Elfstones," he manages to craft what is actually a compelling narrative. I won't go into detail about the plot, but the enemies are things they call "demons," which are creatures that are sorta like men and animals mixed together but darker, stronger, and twisted. Pretty much none of the demons are described in any great detail. One is described only as being able to change form, one is described in ways that majorly evoke "Witch King" images, and the third...is The Reaper.
The Reaper will always and forever be capitalized in my mind. He is described as being seven feet tall, constantly cloaked in ash gray, with the speed and fluidity of movement of the leetest Elf. It's not his appearance though that gives me chills. It's better summed up in the author's own words: "The Reaper feared nothing. It was a monster who cared nothing for life, even its own. It did not kill because it enjoyed killing, though in truth it did enjoy killing. It killed because killing was instinctive. It killed because it found it necessary." Once The Reaper is loose, he begins to kill. Senselessly, violently, the heroes never meet it until the end of the book. They just find bodies draped and mangled, inhuman strength painting macabre tableaus with its victims. There is something positively terrifying about not only the carnage it wreaks with its bare hands, but the absolute impersonal way in which it is wreaked. I can't begin to properly describe how very scary the Reaper is, but suffice it to say I will be scared spitless if they manage to do him well in the upcoming movie adaption.
Now, the only reason he got runners up was because he died in the end. So, what does that tell you about the winner? Precious little. >:-}> Without further ado, I present you the winner:
Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar, from "Neverwhere," by Neil Gaiman.
Ok, how many out there are Firefly Fans? A several, I see. Let me sum them up like this. I had a dream. In this dream, I was being chased by a semi truck full of Reavers (Not Reapers). The truck was being driven by Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar. I was not sure whether I was more afraid of what was in the front or back. Yes, you read that right. I wasn't sure whether dozens of reapers or these two...men...were scarier. They are hardly physically imposing. Mr. Croup is short and somewhat fat, while Mr. Vandemar is awkwardly proportioned, tall, lanky, and somehow scandinavian. Like the reaper, they live to kill. As Mr. Croup says, they don't make threats. They make promises. They are inhumanly strong, polite, and indestructible. In one scene, Mr. Croup is quite proud of himself, as he has held his hand on the wall and thrown four knives at it, getting each one in between his fingers without hitting them. Mr. Vandemar is less impressed, telling him he did it wrong, he didn't anything. He then puts his own hand on the wall, throws a knife, sticking it straight through the palm of his hand. Mr. Croup ignores him for a while, talking with their employer, than rolls his eyes when he has to help Mr. Vandemar unstick his hand from the wall.
Once again, if you are not the sensitive type, I would recommend you read this book to get a good idea of what a terrifying villain can look like. I find it hard to put into words what terrifies me so much about them. Perhaps it's the fact that they live under london, are pretty much men, and just somehow seem like regular joes, who go around killing lots of people. They already have been screen adapted, but I haven't seen enough of it ot make an informed decision on how well they translated.
New poll will be up shortly, and the first half of this week is Insanity Deluxe. So, Peace out, war in, all that jazz. Oh, and a note about the fourth option in the poll: it will be a wild card, changing from week to week. Flynn out.
Now, normal Modus Operandi for these entries will consist of a runners up first, then followed by the actual winner. So, first we have our runners up. It's...oh my goodness, I can't believe it! It's
The Reaper, from "Elfstones of Shannara," by Terry Brooks
Now, for those of you unfamiliar with the work of Mr. Brooks, he writes exclusively about the Fantasy Realm of Shannara, a fictional world...OR IS IT? The books hinted heavily (And, in later installments, explicitly explained) that it is in fact our world, except fundamentally altered by nuclear war, which somehow made magic exist and mutated men into four races: Normal men (Ok, they didn't mutate into that, but whatever) Trolls, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Elves are the only truly non mannish race, and it turns out THEY'RE WATCHING US AS WE SPEAK. Er, but I digress. Mr. Brooks however has a few issues...for instance, his love affair with "wordlessly." He uses it at least four times every five chapters, with a sprinkling of "soundlessly" to add what HE calls variety. His earlier books also were very much derivative of Lord of the Rings, somewhat to their detriment. However, in his second book, "Elfstones," he manages to craft what is actually a compelling narrative. I won't go into detail about the plot, but the enemies are things they call "demons," which are creatures that are sorta like men and animals mixed together but darker, stronger, and twisted. Pretty much none of the demons are described in any great detail. One is described only as being able to change form, one is described in ways that majorly evoke "Witch King" images, and the third...is The Reaper.
The Reaper will always and forever be capitalized in my mind. He is described as being seven feet tall, constantly cloaked in ash gray, with the speed and fluidity of movement of the leetest Elf. It's not his appearance though that gives me chills. It's better summed up in the author's own words: "The Reaper feared nothing. It was a monster who cared nothing for life, even its own. It did not kill because it enjoyed killing, though in truth it did enjoy killing. It killed because killing was instinctive. It killed because it found it necessary." Once The Reaper is loose, he begins to kill. Senselessly, violently, the heroes never meet it until the end of the book. They just find bodies draped and mangled, inhuman strength painting macabre tableaus with its victims. There is something positively terrifying about not only the carnage it wreaks with its bare hands, but the absolute impersonal way in which it is wreaked. I can't begin to properly describe how very scary the Reaper is, but suffice it to say I will be scared spitless if they manage to do him well in the upcoming movie adaption.
Now, the only reason he got runners up was because he died in the end. So, what does that tell you about the winner? Precious little. >:-}> Without further ado, I present you the winner:
Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar, from "Neverwhere," by Neil Gaiman.
Ok, how many out there are Firefly Fans? A several, I see. Let me sum them up like this. I had a dream. In this dream, I was being chased by a semi truck full of Reavers (Not Reapers). The truck was being driven by Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar. I was not sure whether I was more afraid of what was in the front or back. Yes, you read that right. I wasn't sure whether dozens of reapers or these two...men...were scarier. They are hardly physically imposing. Mr. Croup is short and somewhat fat, while Mr. Vandemar is awkwardly proportioned, tall, lanky, and somehow scandinavian. Like the reaper, they live to kill. As Mr. Croup says, they don't make threats. They make promises. They are inhumanly strong, polite, and indestructible. In one scene, Mr. Croup is quite proud of himself, as he has held his hand on the wall and thrown four knives at it, getting each one in between his fingers without hitting them. Mr. Vandemar is less impressed, telling him he did it wrong, he didn't anything. He then puts his own hand on the wall, throws a knife, sticking it straight through the palm of his hand. Mr. Croup ignores him for a while, talking with their employer, than rolls his eyes when he has to help Mr. Vandemar unstick his hand from the wall.
Once again, if you are not the sensitive type, I would recommend you read this book to get a good idea of what a terrifying villain can look like. I find it hard to put into words what terrifies me so much about them. Perhaps it's the fact that they live under london, are pretty much men, and just somehow seem like regular joes, who go around killing lots of people. They already have been screen adapted, but I haven't seen enough of it ot make an informed decision on how well they translated.
New poll will be up shortly, and the first half of this week is Insanity Deluxe. So, Peace out, war in, all that jazz. Oh, and a note about the fourth option in the poll: it will be a wild card, changing from week to week. Flynn out.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Some Late Night News
The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed. I instead have knocked out 40.
Check out my facebook if you want to see which ones.
To indulge in some amusingly amazing arbitrary alliteration, since I have procrastinated proficiently, paying the piper in PCAD is pretty much...er...unavoidable, for lack of a P starting word. I'll let you sit on that sentence for a while, and distract you with this: 10^2+11^2 + 12^2 = 13^2 +14^2. If that's not the only reason I would ever like math, I don't know what is.
So, what does my flowing sentence of grandeur mean? It means I delayed starting a project in PCAD, which is a program you use for, get this: Designing a microcomputer, or PCB. I have to first, draw all the components (from a list Proff gave us), then I have to put them all together correctly to form a PCB. (From a slightly different list proff gave us) However, a while back as I worked on the project, I discovered to my HORROR that I had lost all my work on the project thus far, along with my flash drive, CPO key, and house key. So, after a period of anxiously checking lost and found, waiting for someone to be good enough to return it, and hoping it would randomly appear, I finally asked proff to let me have the files, from another student, to bring me back up to speed. He said yes, but now I only have...a little over a week to get this done. I got a good chunk done today, but have the hardest part left to go. The actual, honest to goodness, this is a plan to build the actual device drawing. Prayers for focus and fixation on failing to lose would be appreciated.
So, I'll probably be REALLY busy and on less, as well as updating less. Were I saner I would be in bed by now, but really, who needs sanity when you have a monster.
So, this is me, signing out. Vote in the poll peoples! Decide what you get to read!
---Flynn
Check out my facebook if you want to see which ones.
To indulge in some amusingly amazing arbitrary alliteration, since I have procrastinated proficiently, paying the piper in PCAD is pretty much...er...unavoidable, for lack of a P starting word. I'll let you sit on that sentence for a while, and distract you with this: 10^2+11^2 + 12^2 = 13^2 +14^2. If that's not the only reason I would ever like math, I don't know what is.
So, what does my flowing sentence of grandeur mean? It means I delayed starting a project in PCAD, which is a program you use for, get this: Designing a microcomputer, or PCB. I have to first, draw all the components (from a list Proff gave us), then I have to put them all together correctly to form a PCB. (From a slightly different list proff gave us) However, a while back as I worked on the project, I discovered to my HORROR that I had lost all my work on the project thus far, along with my flash drive, CPO key, and house key. So, after a period of anxiously checking lost and found, waiting for someone to be good enough to return it, and hoping it would randomly appear, I finally asked proff to let me have the files, from another student, to bring me back up to speed. He said yes, but now I only have...a little over a week to get this done. I got a good chunk done today, but have the hardest part left to go. The actual, honest to goodness, this is a plan to build the actual device drawing. Prayers for focus and fixation on failing to lose would be appreciated.
So, I'll probably be REALLY busy and on less, as well as updating less. Were I saner I would be in bed by now, but really, who needs sanity when you have a monster.
So, this is me, signing out. Vote in the poll peoples! Decide what you get to read!
---Flynn
Sunday, October 5, 2008
From Me 2 U, Number one
Because every now and then I have to get some n00b out of my system. So, apparently most people wanted something I'd written/filmed/composed/created to be posted. So...I'll post multiple things here, because I have nothing...well. Maybe ONE thing.
No, not yet. I have nothing that no one here has seen yet, so I'll post multiple things, and HOPE that at least one thing is new to everyone.
So, let's get this High Octane Hedgehog rolling! While we were camping, I did a video tour. Here are the last two parts of it, nicely embedded for your convenience.
Now, some of you have already seen that. (I'm calling you out, Anonymous Faerie) One more video that Ms. Faerie has already seen, then I'll post...something else...
This is a snippet from my ongoing Writing WIP, though not much work has been done on in the last four weeks. It's called "The Untold Adventure"
No, not yet. I have nothing that no one here has seen yet, so I'll post multiple things, and HOPE that at least one thing is new to everyone.
So, let's get this High Octane Hedgehog rolling! While we were camping, I did a video tour. Here are the last two parts of it, nicely embedded for your convenience.
Now, some of you have already seen that. (I'm calling you out, Anonymous Faerie) One more video that Ms. Faerie has already seen, then I'll post...something else...
This is a snippet from my ongoing Writing WIP, though not much work has been done on in the last four weeks. It's called "The Untold Adventure"
A wolf howled outside the walls, and Dubi sighed. "Fier misses me," he said as he paced back and forth in front of the wagon the male companions were to sleep in. "And, he really wants to be in here. He calls it a buffet. Hopefully it won't get to the point where we'll need anything like that. Also, hopefully I managed to convince him not to try and get in before I call."
Mela, who was waiting nearby, nodded. "At least our mounts won't eat anyone. I wonder why it is horses don't like you, Dubi? Were you mean to them as children? My mother always said that horses could sense that sort of thing."
Shaking his head, Dubi said, "No, actually, I think it has more to do with my affinity with wolves. Probably spooks them or something. I prefer Fier though, he has a certain quality other horses seem to lack. The quality of inspiring fear in my enemies."
A little girl ran up to their small group, tears running down her face as she asked, "Are any of you a hero? I need a few heroes, can any of you help? Please! He has my sister, are there any heroes here?"
Cleesh stepped forward, followed quickly by Burl, Mela, and Dubi. Cleesh knelt down, making hushing noises and saying, "We are heroes, the best in the land, now tell us. Who has your sister, and where?"
Rubbing at her tear stained eyes, the little girl took huge shaky breaths and explained, "My little sister and I were playing over by this boarded off door on the other side of the tower, when suddenly a man jumped out and grabbed my sister. He gave me a horrible smile and said, 'Aha, now I have some tender stew meat!' and went back through the door. I tried, but couldn't get it open. Can you please help me, I think he wants to eat my sister!"
With a slight twitch, Dubi said, "Oh, we can't have that. It simply won't do, having your young, innocent, sweet, tender sister eaten like that..."
"Uh, no. It won't do at all." Cleesh looked at Dubi askance and continued, "Have no fear, young one, we will save your sister. Come on men and Mela, get your weapons and let's go." Quickly Dubi belted on his Shakspire blade, Burl grabbed his axe, and Cleesh donned his sword. "Lead away, fair lass." Cleesh said, and the small girl ran off to the other side of the tower, the heroes following her.
In a few minutes, they had navigated the crowds, a few patrols, and an impromptu goose juggling competition to arrive at a door that seemed to lead underground, that had been boarded up until recently. The door was large, black, and looked rather as if someone had said huffily to the builder, "How do you make it look impressive? I don't know, just keep doing things until it looks like the door is worse than what is contained beyond!"
The ancient runes carved around it certainly lent to the overall atmosphere, as did the way the gargoyle perched atop it seemed to follow you around with its eyes. Stone thorn vines wound around the door frame, and it even looked as if someone had cleverly carved deep claw marks in the stone, as if a giant demon hand had tried to get out. The boards that had held it shut were artfully rearranged, so that you could get the door open, while still looking like it was stuck shut. Cleesh tried to get it open, and it proved resistant. With an elegant bow, Cleesh stepped back and gestured at the door. "Burl, perhaps you would like a try?"
"With pleasure." Burl took a padded set of brass knuckles and punched the door solidly where the door knob should have been. The door shuddered, and swung open with a drawn out squeal of acquiescence. Burl gestured for Cleesh to lead. "After you, oh fearless leader."
Cleesh looked into the doorway, and got the distinct feeling that the doorway was staring back at him. The void beyond the door brought to mind a saying his mother had always said. "Darkness is not the opposite of light, Cleesh." She'd said, bouncing him on her knee. "It is merely the absence of light. When you see Trueblack, the real opposite of light, you'll know it." Looking at the doorway, Cleesh knew it, and didn't like it. This was the sort of black a Ninja looked gray in. He turned to Mela and asked, "Perhaps you can light our way?"
A green ball of light formed itself in Mela's hand, and the Trueblack receded with what was almost an audible hiss. Cleesh went down the steps, Mela following behind him. Burl came next, and Dubi took up the rear. The stairs descended longer than any stairs in their position had a right to, and when they finally leveled out it was into a very nondescript looking cave. A faint sound was heard from an offshoot, and they all headed in that direction, choosing appropriate seeming off-branchings when it was necessary. The green light sparkled off of crystals embedded in the walls, forming strange shifting beads of brightness that rushed and flitted about like intoxicated lightning bugs.
Light began to come from ahead, and they all grew more cautious, trying to make less sound. The light coming from ahead had the lambent quality usually associated with burning torch wood, and when they rounded the corner they saw it was coming from a more intentional looking room, with a squared out door and walls inside. They entered the room, still not seeing anyone, and were heading for the door on the other side when the door slammed shut behind them. They all whirled around, and Burl tried to open it to no avail. A noise came from the next room, and they turned around again to see what had made it.
A black shadow stood in the doorway, hat brim tilted down just enough to cover the eyes. The stranger spoke, saying with a touch of sincerity, "Welcome to the last day of your life, I'm so glad you could make it. I am Requiem, and I'll be ushering you to the afterlife."
Mela, who was waiting nearby, nodded. "At least our mounts won't eat anyone. I wonder why it is horses don't like you, Dubi? Were you mean to them as children? My mother always said that horses could sense that sort of thing."
Shaking his head, Dubi said, "No, actually, I think it has more to do with my affinity with wolves. Probably spooks them or something. I prefer Fier though, he has a certain quality other horses seem to lack. The quality of inspiring fear in my enemies."
A little girl ran up to their small group, tears running down her face as she asked, "Are any of you a hero? I need a few heroes, can any of you help? Please! He has my sister, are there any heroes here?"
Cleesh stepped forward, followed quickly by Burl, Mela, and Dubi. Cleesh knelt down, making hushing noises and saying, "We are heroes, the best in the land, now tell us. Who has your sister, and where?"
Rubbing at her tear stained eyes, the little girl took huge shaky breaths and explained, "My little sister and I were playing over by this boarded off door on the other side of the tower, when suddenly a man jumped out and grabbed my sister. He gave me a horrible smile and said, 'Aha, now I have some tender stew meat!' and went back through the door. I tried, but couldn't get it open. Can you please help me, I think he wants to eat my sister!"
With a slight twitch, Dubi said, "Oh, we can't have that. It simply won't do, having your young, innocent, sweet, tender sister eaten like that..."
"Uh, no. It won't do at all." Cleesh looked at Dubi askance and continued, "Have no fear, young one, we will save your sister. Come on men and Mela, get your weapons and let's go." Quickly Dubi belted on his Shakspire blade, Burl grabbed his axe, and Cleesh donned his sword. "Lead away, fair lass." Cleesh said, and the small girl ran off to the other side of the tower, the heroes following her.
In a few minutes, they had navigated the crowds, a few patrols, and an impromptu goose juggling competition to arrive at a door that seemed to lead underground, that had been boarded up until recently. The door was large, black, and looked rather as if someone had said huffily to the builder, "How do you make it look impressive? I don't know, just keep doing things until it looks like the door is worse than what is contained beyond!"
The ancient runes carved around it certainly lent to the overall atmosphere, as did the way the gargoyle perched atop it seemed to follow you around with its eyes. Stone thorn vines wound around the door frame, and it even looked as if someone had cleverly carved deep claw marks in the stone, as if a giant demon hand had tried to get out. The boards that had held it shut were artfully rearranged, so that you could get the door open, while still looking like it was stuck shut. Cleesh tried to get it open, and it proved resistant. With an elegant bow, Cleesh stepped back and gestured at the door. "Burl, perhaps you would like a try?"
"With pleasure." Burl took a padded set of brass knuckles and punched the door solidly where the door knob should have been. The door shuddered, and swung open with a drawn out squeal of acquiescence. Burl gestured for Cleesh to lead. "After you, oh fearless leader."
Cleesh looked into the doorway, and got the distinct feeling that the doorway was staring back at him. The void beyond the door brought to mind a saying his mother had always said. "Darkness is not the opposite of light, Cleesh." She'd said, bouncing him on her knee. "It is merely the absence of light. When you see Trueblack, the real opposite of light, you'll know it." Looking at the doorway, Cleesh knew it, and didn't like it. This was the sort of black a Ninja looked gray in. He turned to Mela and asked, "Perhaps you can light our way?"
A green ball of light formed itself in Mela's hand, and the Trueblack receded with what was almost an audible hiss. Cleesh went down the steps, Mela following behind him. Burl came next, and Dubi took up the rear. The stairs descended longer than any stairs in their position had a right to, and when they finally leveled out it was into a very nondescript looking cave. A faint sound was heard from an offshoot, and they all headed in that direction, choosing appropriate seeming off-branchings when it was necessary. The green light sparkled off of crystals embedded in the walls, forming strange shifting beads of brightness that rushed and flitted about like intoxicated lightning bugs.
Light began to come from ahead, and they all grew more cautious, trying to make less sound. The light coming from ahead had the lambent quality usually associated with burning torch wood, and when they rounded the corner they saw it was coming from a more intentional looking room, with a squared out door and walls inside. They entered the room, still not seeing anyone, and were heading for the door on the other side when the door slammed shut behind them. They all whirled around, and Burl tried to open it to no avail. A noise came from the next room, and they turned around again to see what had made it.
A black shadow stood in the doorway, hat brim tilted down just enough to cover the eyes. The stranger spoke, saying with a touch of sincerity, "Welcome to the last day of your life, I'm so glad you could make it. I am Requiem, and I'll be ushering you to the afterlife."
A brief Explanation
This entry won't count for today, as I am explaining the poll.
I will write an update based on what people vote for: Ever week, on sunday or saturday, I'll do so. Usually the poll will be up longer, but this week no such luck. So, here are what the options mean.
Review: Rather obviously, I'll review SOMETHING, randomly selected, that I deem interesting or entertaining.
Award: This is where I'll give the best/worst of something. For example, Best Creepy Villain, Best Plot Twist, Worst Quest, Weirdest Criminal, etc.
From Me 2 You: This is where I post something I've written/composed/drawn/otherwise created.
News: Rather boring, this option will generally not be in the poll. It's about me.
I will write an update based on what people vote for: Ever week, on sunday or saturday, I'll do so. Usually the poll will be up longer, but this week no such luck. So, here are what the options mean.
Review: Rather obviously, I'll review SOMETHING, randomly selected, that I deem interesting or entertaining.
Award: This is where I'll give the best/worst of something. For example, Best Creepy Villain, Best Plot Twist, Worst Quest, Weirdest Criminal, etc.
From Me 2 You: This is where I post something I've written/composed/drawn/otherwise created.
News: Rather boring, this option will generally not be in the poll. It's about me.
Friday, October 3, 2008
FIRST!!!1 lol
So...a fresh start. A new blog...a new day...but no new donut. Never a new donut. <_< Some questions I pondered as I started this up were, "Do I want to go all artsy fartsy or stick to what I know? Do I really think I'll use this? Do I want Minima Black or another template? How leet do I want it to be? Pants?"
I decided in the end I would NOT go all artsy fartsy pro-blogger, and would instead deliver what the masses want: More of ME! *poses, with a "I don't mean that the way most people would" wink*
I also decided that as long as I had one comment a week, I would go to the effort of updating it. That, my dear readers, is called a hint.
Any Blogger veteran can tell what I did with the template. It's minima, and it's black. Discuss.
Anyone who has typed in this URL/paid attention to the title bar will also know how leet I made the title. I could have gone full bore, but decided to tone it down, for the sake of my...how you say...friends.
As to pants? Well, I'm certainly wearing some. They're part of what I like to call my "Birthday suit" because I was given them on my birthday. Interestingly enough I also am wearing a shirt received on my birthday...the whole suit is here! But my shoes are non-birthday. No one gives guys birthday shoes. Good deal, I didn't want any. I think I'll sign off for now...perhaps in the future my posts will be more newsy and less losey.
I decided in the end I would NOT go all artsy fartsy pro-blogger, and would instead deliver what the masses want: More of ME! *poses, with a "I don't mean that the way most people would" wink*
I also decided that as long as I had one comment a week, I would go to the effort of updating it. That, my dear readers, is called a hint.
Any Blogger veteran can tell what I did with the template. It's minima, and it's black. Discuss.
Anyone who has typed in this URL/paid attention to the title bar will also know how leet I made the title. I could have gone full bore, but decided to tone it down, for the sake of my...how you say...friends.
As to pants? Well, I'm certainly wearing some. They're part of what I like to call my "Birthday suit" because I was given them on my birthday. Interestingly enough I also am wearing a shirt received on my birthday...the whole suit is here! But my shoes are non-birthday. No one gives guys birthday shoes. Good deal, I didn't want any. I think I'll sign off for now...perhaps in the future my posts will be more newsy and less losey.
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