21. Yes, they have it warded.
22. Not allowed to convince team to field Twitch, Evelynn, Shaco, Akali, and Vayne together.
23. Not allowed to blow entire paycheck on LoL cards and energy drinks.
24. Not allowed to initiate surrender vote two seconds before we kill their Nexus.
25. No disconnecting, ever.
26. No, actually, the turret dive wasn't "Worth it" just because you said so in chat.
27. Not allowed to wander off on my own in the middle of a teamfight because I want redbuff.
28. Should not remind teammates that I have Sims 3 running in the background - it makes them jealous.
29. Reminding the enemy that you got away with 10 HP - unless specifically asked in /all - is a good way to get focus'd next time.
30. Never solo mid as Warwick. Even if I did end up winning the 1v1.
1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Oblivion Fic: On Miracles
((Cross-posted here.
I'm not very imaginative when it comes to names. This is Chapter 23, incidentally. The rest is also posted there.))
Lyssi felt her life slipping away.
It trickled out sometimes, gushed others. She was going to die, though, that was the important thing. She'd survived fire and daylight and a number of other things that were supposed to kill her, but didn't - and now she was going to die.
It wasn't even an enchanted blade, she thought with mild disgust. Or at least, if it had been enchanted, she couldn't detect the enchantment ... which wasn't saying much; she only dabbled with magic, and that, only when it was needful, which it rarely was. The blade had been demonic in origin, though, that much she knew for certain. More than that, it had pierced her very heart. Normal elves, she was sure, would have died instantly.
Not her. She got to live out long, torturous minutes. At least she didn't have to breathe. She expected that the constant up and down would have torn her chest open even further.
She remembered she was standing on a platform, atop the tallest structure she'd ever seen apart from White-Gold Tower in the Imperial City. She held her pack in one hand, dragging it along the ground behind her. Even enchanted to seem weightless, the thing was ungainly, and often threw her off-balance. She suspected given its natural weight, it wouldn't throw her off as much - but then she'd be hard-pressed to lift it, even with her unnatural strength.
If she'd been wearing it, she wouldn't be dying now, though.
In front of her, floating in a glowing orb of light, was a block, like a hovering, six-sided die.
She held the block up to the first lights of predawn, staring at it with vision that blurred around the edges. It was etched with runes in a language she couldn't begin to make out, but then, she sometimes had a little trouble with plain Tamrielic letters.
Before long, it was too much work to hold the block up, so she set it down on her chest. It was immediately washed in crimson. She was a sticky mess with blood, her clothing ruined, her skin stained.
The demon, clad in full plate, was determined to take his killer with him. She'd thought him dead, but no - here he stood, behind her. She was exhausted by the climb, exhausted by the fight every single demonic sentinel had put up, exhausted by the very land outside this tower turning against her (who ever heard of plants tangling around legs and arms like living things?), and exhausted from the siege before. She hadn't checked to see if he was just playing dead. She hadn't heard him get up, hadn't heard the scraping of a sword drug against stone for the ringing that fought to become a dull roar in her ears.
She'd barely felt it when the sword punctured her chest from behind. There was a flash of something, behind her eyes, and she looked down to see almost two feet of greatsword sticking out of her. The demon had pulled his blade free effortlessly, and she fell forward, catching the stone with her free hand as she fell.
The world disintegrated around her, vanishing before she hit the ground.
Lyssi turned her head slightly to the side. She was lying flat on her back, now, staring at the shattered base of one of the pillars that had formed the massive Oblivion Gate. Apparently, the block was the keystone on which the portal was built, and with it gone, the portal couldn't stand anymore. It made sense to her, in the way anything magical made sense to her: she didn't think about it terribly much.
Right now, she couldn't think of anything terribly much.
But she'd done something. Something important, something good. There were things left to do, but there would always be things to do.
It was all right. She could rest, now.
She never saw the man's form standing over her.
In the early light of predawn, there was a sound that was not unlike a massive gong being rung - or at least, that was how Brother Martin had perceived it. No two refugees heard it the same, though everyone could agree on what came next. A roar, like a massive, angry, dying beast sounded from the south.
From the Oblivion Gate.
A young boy had found the way up to the high tower the chapel sported. Half-ruined, and long unused, no one else dared go up. Now, he did, and he reported the Gate's fall on his return. The Daedra, the boy said, were drawn to it, though only a few remained in the city anyway.
Here then was their diversion. The refugees took only what they needed. Those who could walk assisted those who could not, leaving only those who would not recover even with magical healing, and the bodies of the dead. Maybe they could return one day. Brother Martin prayed it would be one day soon.
The Nine showed him a miracle this day, guarding the refugees as they escaped through a lesser gate. He'd been overly optimistic - in total, it was thirty-seven people who managed to survive and escape, even counting Martin and the two Blades themselves, but that was thirty-seven lives the Nine had spared. They kept quiet, and there was no quarreling. Speed was of the essence, and they made good time out of the city.
Everyone knew that a raised voice here courted vivisection by a daedra - if they were lucky. Almost no one spoke, and when they did, it came in hushed whispers.
The Nine granted him a second miracle on top of the first. Outside the walls of Kvatch, the refugees found a camp of other survivors set up near the main road. Wives clung to their husbands, children to their parents. People mourned - even those few whose families remained mostly intact mourned at least one friend or distant relative. There were more dead than alive - but almost half of Kvatch had survived, it seemed. The nobility had holed up in the castle, so hope sprung from that corner, as well.
Everywhere he turned, he heard whispers about a Hero - or Heroine - of Kvatch, some solitary figure they found in the rubble where the gate had once stood. No one, it seemed, knew where exactly she was, nor how she fared - and Martin was very confident it was a she.
Finally, a guard approached him after sundown. He wore the haggard look of someone who had seen too much fighting these last few days. "I'm to understand you led these people out of the city, Brother Martin?"
Martin nodded quietly, so the man continued. "They tell me you're a healer, and a good one at that, is that true?" Another nod. He was tired, but he had enough magic left to put at least one or two more people to rights before he collapsed outright, anyway. Martin glanced back at Ariel, who stood at his right - the Nord at his left was unreadable, but the woman eyed the guardsman warily. "Forgive my manners - I'm Savlian Matius, acting guard captain."
"Then you'd be the one who held the road against the Daedra for two days straight?" Martin asked, inspecting the man. Still armored, he showed signs of exhaustion, but he wasn't badly injured yet, anyway.
The man - Savlian - nodded. "My men helped, of course. They're good, strong people. I ... also discovered the girl." At this, Martin felt himself perk up considerably. Finally. Ariel's firm hand on his shoulder restrained his eagerness. "Ah ... I see you've heard of our Heroine, then. She's in rough shape. I don't know enough about medicine to know if she can be saved, in all honesty." Savlian reached up, rubbing the back of his head. "And she's ... unusual."
"May I see to her?" Martin asked, keeping himself in check. There might, after all, be nothing he could do.
The guardsman smiled. "Of course."
I'm not very imaginative when it comes to names. This is Chapter 23, incidentally. The rest is also posted there.))
Lyssi felt her life slipping away.
It trickled out sometimes, gushed others. She was going to die, though, that was the important thing. She'd survived fire and daylight and a number of other things that were supposed to kill her, but didn't - and now she was going to die.
It wasn't even an enchanted blade, she thought with mild disgust. Or at least, if it had been enchanted, she couldn't detect the enchantment ... which wasn't saying much; she only dabbled with magic, and that, only when it was needful, which it rarely was. The blade had been demonic in origin, though, that much she knew for certain. More than that, it had pierced her very heart. Normal elves, she was sure, would have died instantly.
Not her. She got to live out long, torturous minutes. At least she didn't have to breathe. She expected that the constant up and down would have torn her chest open even further.
She remembered she was standing on a platform, atop the tallest structure she'd ever seen apart from White-Gold Tower in the Imperial City. She held her pack in one hand, dragging it along the ground behind her. Even enchanted to seem weightless, the thing was ungainly, and often threw her off-balance. She suspected given its natural weight, it wouldn't throw her off as much - but then she'd be hard-pressed to lift it, even with her unnatural strength.
If she'd been wearing it, she wouldn't be dying now, though.
In front of her, floating in a glowing orb of light, was a block, like a hovering, six-sided die.
She held the block up to the first lights of predawn, staring at it with vision that blurred around the edges. It was etched with runes in a language she couldn't begin to make out, but then, she sometimes had a little trouble with plain Tamrielic letters.
Before long, it was too much work to hold the block up, so she set it down on her chest. It was immediately washed in crimson. She was a sticky mess with blood, her clothing ruined, her skin stained.
The demon, clad in full plate, was determined to take his killer with him. She'd thought him dead, but no - here he stood, behind her. She was exhausted by the climb, exhausted by the fight every single demonic sentinel had put up, exhausted by the very land outside this tower turning against her (who ever heard of plants tangling around legs and arms like living things?), and exhausted from the siege before. She hadn't checked to see if he was just playing dead. She hadn't heard him get up, hadn't heard the scraping of a sword drug against stone for the ringing that fought to become a dull roar in her ears.
She'd barely felt it when the sword punctured her chest from behind. There was a flash of something, behind her eyes, and she looked down to see almost two feet of greatsword sticking out of her. The demon had pulled his blade free effortlessly, and she fell forward, catching the stone with her free hand as she fell.
The world disintegrated around her, vanishing before she hit the ground.
Lyssi turned her head slightly to the side. She was lying flat on her back, now, staring at the shattered base of one of the pillars that had formed the massive Oblivion Gate. Apparently, the block was the keystone on which the portal was built, and with it gone, the portal couldn't stand anymore. It made sense to her, in the way anything magical made sense to her: she didn't think about it terribly much.
Right now, she couldn't think of anything terribly much.
But she'd done something. Something important, something good. There were things left to do, but there would always be things to do.
It was all right. She could rest, now.
She never saw the man's form standing over her.
In the early light of predawn, there was a sound that was not unlike a massive gong being rung - or at least, that was how Brother Martin had perceived it. No two refugees heard it the same, though everyone could agree on what came next. A roar, like a massive, angry, dying beast sounded from the south.
From the Oblivion Gate.
A young boy had found the way up to the high tower the chapel sported. Half-ruined, and long unused, no one else dared go up. Now, he did, and he reported the Gate's fall on his return. The Daedra, the boy said, were drawn to it, though only a few remained in the city anyway.
Here then was their diversion. The refugees took only what they needed. Those who could walk assisted those who could not, leaving only those who would not recover even with magical healing, and the bodies of the dead. Maybe they could return one day. Brother Martin prayed it would be one day soon.
The Nine showed him a miracle this day, guarding the refugees as they escaped through a lesser gate. He'd been overly optimistic - in total, it was thirty-seven people who managed to survive and escape, even counting Martin and the two Blades themselves, but that was thirty-seven lives the Nine had spared. They kept quiet, and there was no quarreling. Speed was of the essence, and they made good time out of the city.
Everyone knew that a raised voice here courted vivisection by a daedra - if they were lucky. Almost no one spoke, and when they did, it came in hushed whispers.
The Nine granted him a second miracle on top of the first. Outside the walls of Kvatch, the refugees found a camp of other survivors set up near the main road. Wives clung to their husbands, children to their parents. People mourned - even those few whose families remained mostly intact mourned at least one friend or distant relative. There were more dead than alive - but almost half of Kvatch had survived, it seemed. The nobility had holed up in the castle, so hope sprung from that corner, as well.
Everywhere he turned, he heard whispers about a Hero - or Heroine - of Kvatch, some solitary figure they found in the rubble where the gate had once stood. No one, it seemed, knew where exactly she was, nor how she fared - and Martin was very confident it was a she.
Finally, a guard approached him after sundown. He wore the haggard look of someone who had seen too much fighting these last few days. "I'm to understand you led these people out of the city, Brother Martin?"
Martin nodded quietly, so the man continued. "They tell me you're a healer, and a good one at that, is that true?" Another nod. He was tired, but he had enough magic left to put at least one or two more people to rights before he collapsed outright, anyway. Martin glanced back at Ariel, who stood at his right - the Nord at his left was unreadable, but the woman eyed the guardsman warily. "Forgive my manners - I'm Savlian Matius, acting guard captain."
"Then you'd be the one who held the road against the Daedra for two days straight?" Martin asked, inspecting the man. Still armored, he showed signs of exhaustion, but he wasn't badly injured yet, anyway.
The man - Savlian - nodded. "My men helped, of course. They're good, strong people. I ... also discovered the girl." At this, Martin felt himself perk up considerably. Finally. Ariel's firm hand on his shoulder restrained his eagerness. "Ah ... I see you've heard of our Heroine, then. She's in rough shape. I don't know enough about medicine to know if she can be saved, in all honesty." Savlian reached up, rubbing the back of his head. "And she's ... unusual."
"May I see to her?" Martin asked, keeping himself in check. There might, after all, be nothing he could do.
The guardsman smiled. "Of course."
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I got distracted
H'okiday, so I'm seeing all the things going on in the blogs I'm following and I'm once again quite happy I decided to keep my nose more-or-less out of it, all the same.
I don't much care for parties when they're not the sort of thing you get murdered at.
So, what'd I get distracted by, if not all that?
Well, a five-year-old game, of course!
I had a revelation about the entire video game industry yesterday. You can release a buggy game that's sloppy around the edges, and people may buy it. But the way to keep people buying it is to give them the tools to fix what's broken. There is a vertiable army of modders out there, so if the product is good at its core, they will twist and tweak at it to their hearts' content and fix every little thing you never did - provided, of course, you give them the tools to do so. That's how a game that's five years old is still relevant to anything, and how there's still interest in the franchise five years later for the release of the fifth entry in the series.
Apparently Blizzard isn't the only group who firmly believes in the "when it's done" policy of game releases.
Let me explain: the game in question is The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Now, there are still people who play The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, though I never took to it myself. I have a copy somewhere, I just never really got into it.
The game is solid at its core, it really is. It's got a standard 'save the world' style plot, but it's got so many sidequests and so much to do that even at basegame, it's a very worthwhile offering. The thing that makes it a gem, though, is the Construction Set. People have built entire games out of the Construction Set for Oblivion. Seriously. I have, myself, downloaded a little over a hundred plugins all told, including the ten official mods.
Let me pick at what's wrong with it, because 'it's a solid game' seems a little bit underwhelming in the face of the fact that I've done so much to my version of it that it hardly resembles the game that came in the box (or the copy I have for XBOX, for that matter).
The leveling system irks me. There are no two ways around it, the leveling system irks me. Until I did away with it entirely - and put something new in its place - I never thought too much about the sheer amount of grinding I did to no purpose in a single player game. The reason? Everything levels with you. While that sounds fine in theory - in theory only, mind - two important problems arise from doing it that way. One: although the enemies do keep up with you, make it a challenge, like, they're also never any stronger than you. There's never really any sense of progress, when everything is on par with you always. Two (and even worse than the first): If you don't fixate on your combat skills, you'll slide behind all the enemies who are keeping up with your stated levels. Even if you do, if you do it wrong, you'll still slide behind, and then all the curbstomp battles are on your skull, and you'll be lucky if they let you run away alive. So, in short, no real progress (unless you plan to lose your soul to, again, the grind in a single player game and become like unto a robot), only regress. Not good.
That's actually just about everyone's major gripe with the game, and it's almost impossible to swing a cat without hitting someone who's got a mod for it, although the biggest mods seem to have gotten it right overall. Check Oscuro's Oblivion Overhaul for the biggest enemy deleveler, and I'm currently poking around with Oblivion XP to undermine the stupid grind. I spend enough time on the game, thank you.
So, onto some of the other gripes with the game. Loading screens. It's a very resource intensive game, so sure, I'll accept that on a lot of rigs they're necessary, but on mine they really aren't, not always. (I play League of Legends just fine with Oblivion paused in the background, even with the resource-hogging mods I've plugged in.) Better Cities addresses this one nicely, by making the cities bigger, better, and more open. Actually, just better in general. I'm pretty sure it's added a ton of new places and people, but they blend nicely, so I'm only pretty sure.
What else ... oh, I know. Vampirism. Who ever heard of starving yourself for power? Anorexic models. I don't want to play an anorexic model anymore than I want to sparkle in the sunlight. So there's a mod to flip that about (actually most of the vampire overhaul mods do a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I'm just a simple thing, see), and another to get the disease by sleeping in disreputable places and getting bit, and another to add a major quest of sorts to the game just for the vampires.
Honestly, most of my mods I picked up for realism, not necessity. The only one I pick up for necessity is the alternate leveling system, because otherwise I'll be up to my eyeballs in Daedra too tough to take out (difficulty slider aside, anyway).
Sorry for the ... odd ... slant to my writing, by the by. I sunk my teeth into a lovely book, and the main character talks thusly. I'll be over it in time for Wednesday, probably. I'd like to do a proper review on some of the mods I added.
Over all, though, I have to say, Oblivion is not a bad game, even at base game. It's got an interesting enough plot, and most of the shiny that can still tax a newer system is inherent. The combat system is pretty fun and streamlined, the magic's all right. The main complaint I can think of is the bird-brained level system and the fact that AI is a crapshoot, so the ambient conversations are generally rather inane - which, most conversations among real people tend to be a bit inane. So meh. It's got grand, epic quests if you're into that, and enough other things to do that you'll be quite content if you want no part of those.
If you like RPGs and haven't yet tried it, pick it up. If you don't, well, don't.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to playing. (And I promise, I'm actually working on this here again, too.) They release Skyrim in November.
I don't much care for parties when they're not the sort of thing you get murdered at.
So, what'd I get distracted by, if not all that?
Well, a five-year-old game, of course!
I had a revelation about the entire video game industry yesterday. You can release a buggy game that's sloppy around the edges, and people may buy it. But the way to keep people buying it is to give them the tools to fix what's broken. There is a vertiable army of modders out there, so if the product is good at its core, they will twist and tweak at it to their hearts' content and fix every little thing you never did - provided, of course, you give them the tools to do so. That's how a game that's five years old is still relevant to anything, and how there's still interest in the franchise five years later for the release of the fifth entry in the series.
Apparently Blizzard isn't the only group who firmly believes in the "when it's done" policy of game releases.
Let me explain: the game in question is The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Now, there are still people who play The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, though I never took to it myself. I have a copy somewhere, I just never really got into it.
The game is solid at its core, it really is. It's got a standard 'save the world' style plot, but it's got so many sidequests and so much to do that even at basegame, it's a very worthwhile offering. The thing that makes it a gem, though, is the Construction Set. People have built entire games out of the Construction Set for Oblivion. Seriously. I have, myself, downloaded a little over a hundred plugins all told, including the ten official mods.
Let me pick at what's wrong with it, because 'it's a solid game' seems a little bit underwhelming in the face of the fact that I've done so much to my version of it that it hardly resembles the game that came in the box (or the copy I have for XBOX, for that matter).
The leveling system irks me. There are no two ways around it, the leveling system irks me. Until I did away with it entirely - and put something new in its place - I never thought too much about the sheer amount of grinding I did to no purpose in a single player game. The reason? Everything levels with you. While that sounds fine in theory - in theory only, mind - two important problems arise from doing it that way. One: although the enemies do keep up with you, make it a challenge, like, they're also never any stronger than you. There's never really any sense of progress, when everything is on par with you always. Two (and even worse than the first): If you don't fixate on your combat skills, you'll slide behind all the enemies who are keeping up with your stated levels. Even if you do, if you do it wrong, you'll still slide behind, and then all the curbstomp battles are on your skull, and you'll be lucky if they let you run away alive. So, in short, no real progress (unless you plan to lose your soul to, again, the grind in a single player game and become like unto a robot), only regress. Not good.
That's actually just about everyone's major gripe with the game, and it's almost impossible to swing a cat without hitting someone who's got a mod for it, although the biggest mods seem to have gotten it right overall. Check Oscuro's Oblivion Overhaul for the biggest enemy deleveler, and I'm currently poking around with Oblivion XP to undermine the stupid grind. I spend enough time on the game, thank you.
So, onto some of the other gripes with the game. Loading screens. It's a very resource intensive game, so sure, I'll accept that on a lot of rigs they're necessary, but on mine they really aren't, not always. (I play League of Legends just fine with Oblivion paused in the background, even with the resource-hogging mods I've plugged in.) Better Cities addresses this one nicely, by making the cities bigger, better, and more open. Actually, just better in general. I'm pretty sure it's added a ton of new places and people, but they blend nicely, so I'm only pretty sure.
What else ... oh, I know. Vampirism. Who ever heard of starving yourself for power? Anorexic models. I don't want to play an anorexic model anymore than I want to sparkle in the sunlight. So there's a mod to flip that about (actually most of the vampire overhaul mods do a whole hell of a lot more than that, but I'm just a simple thing, see), and another to get the disease by sleeping in disreputable places and getting bit, and another to add a major quest of sorts to the game just for the vampires.
Honestly, most of my mods I picked up for realism, not necessity. The only one I pick up for necessity is the alternate leveling system, because otherwise I'll be up to my eyeballs in Daedra too tough to take out (difficulty slider aside, anyway).
Sorry for the ... odd ... slant to my writing, by the by. I sunk my teeth into a lovely book, and the main character talks thusly. I'll be over it in time for Wednesday, probably. I'd like to do a proper review on some of the mods I added.
Over all, though, I have to say, Oblivion is not a bad game, even at base game. It's got an interesting enough plot, and most of the shiny that can still tax a newer system is inherent. The combat system is pretty fun and streamlined, the magic's all right. The main complaint I can think of is the bird-brained level system and the fact that AI is a crapshoot, so the ambient conversations are generally rather inane - which, most conversations among real people tend to be a bit inane. So meh. It's got grand, epic quests if you're into that, and enough other things to do that you'll be quite content if you want no part of those.
If you like RPGs and haven't yet tried it, pick it up. If you don't, well, don't.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to playing. (And I promise, I'm actually working on this here again, too.) They release Skyrim in November.
Friday, July 22, 2011
10 More Things Not to Do in a LoL Match
11. Don't taunt the enemy in /all chat. They will focus you, and you will die.
12. Not allowed to backdoor an inhibitor while the entire team is turtling. You're doing it wrong.
13. No longer allowed to start PvP matches at 4:30 AM. Nobody appreciates a match that starts 'join this quick!' and ends an hour and a half later with, 'please, God, let this game end.'
14. No, actually, you don't have to use an ultimate to kill someone who's five feet away and has 50 HP left.
15. Not allowed to call for help and then kill all potential threats before help gets there.
16. Stealing baron is great. Stealing baron while you're the only one alive on your team is not great. Stealing baron only to give the enemy the ace is very, very bad.
17. Never, ever tower dive Jax as melee. Especially if you don't have a Sword of the Divine.
18. Shut up and buy wards.
19. Don't chase. Especially, don't chase through the jungle. See #7.
20. Not allowed to predict outcome of match at loading screen.
1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40
12. Not allowed to backdoor an inhibitor while the entire team is turtling. You're doing it wrong.
13. No longer allowed to start PvP matches at 4:30 AM. Nobody appreciates a match that starts 'join this quick!' and ends an hour and a half later with, 'please, God, let this game end.'
14. No, actually, you don't have to use an ultimate to kill someone who's five feet away and has 50 HP left.
15. Not allowed to call for help and then kill all potential threats before help gets there.
16. Stealing baron is great. Stealing baron while you're the only one alive on your team is not great. Stealing baron only to give the enemy the ace is very, very bad.
17. Never, ever tower dive Jax as melee. Especially if you don't have a Sword of the Divine.
18. Shut up and buy wards.
19. Don't chase. Especially, don't chase through the jungle. See #7.
20. Not allowed to predict outcome of match at loading screen.
1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Circle of Magic
Eh, why not. Not a whole lot else to write on today, and I didn't get down to the river like I'd planned.
The Circle of Magic by Tamora Pierce is one of the book series' I've been reading at work to keep me from going absolutely nuts. So far, it covers two quartets and two individual books that are a bit more loosely linked together. Technically, it's classified as juvenile fantasy, though in all honesty, it's one of those series that ... well, let me put it this way: children die in this series with some frequency. There was at least one story that included the death of a baby, and war and death are described in some detail.
So yeah, a children's series. Totally.
The first quartet opens on a series of highly unlikely coincidences: four remarkable children are each rescued from miserable - even life-threatening - circumstances by a mysterious benefactor named Niklaren Goldeye (who happens to be a seer), and brought to the quiet temple community of Winding Circle. Two things rapidly become apparent: the children are not fitting in well with their peers, and they have some skill at magecraft. They are brought to live together at Discipline Cottage, where together, they face off against bullies, earthquakes, pirates, forest fires, and plague, even traveling to death's door and back. Along the way, they find powerful teachers, learn life lessons, and squeeze in all the education they can handle, not to mention working incredible feats of magic, the most important of which being a simple thread circle that wove their four lives - and magics - together as one.
I've always rather enjoyed this series, partially because of the fantastic-yet-down-to-earth setting, partially because of the relatable characters, and partially because I'm a bit of a sucker for strong female leads - of which there are three in the first quartet, with strong supporting women as well. I also like how magic is handled in it - with magic, nothing useful can be gained without good, hard work, and mages are honestly mostly just another stripe of craftsperson, even when they aren't actually craftspeople as well. The schism between 'academic' mages (the traditional book-learning, rune-shaping, spellcasters) and 'ambient' mages (people who work magic through arts, crafts, and nature) is also rather believable and interesting.
Over all, a good fantasy series if you're into that kind of thing, and a series of solid coming-of-age stories told from four unique perspectives if you're into that kind of thing.
Just remember: despite all the murder and disaster and such, it's a kids' series.
Really.
The Circle of Magic by Tamora Pierce is one of the book series' I've been reading at work to keep me from going absolutely nuts. So far, it covers two quartets and two individual books that are a bit more loosely linked together. Technically, it's classified as juvenile fantasy, though in all honesty, it's one of those series that ... well, let me put it this way: children die in this series with some frequency. There was at least one story that included the death of a baby, and war and death are described in some detail.
So yeah, a children's series. Totally.
The first quartet opens on a series of highly unlikely coincidences: four remarkable children are each rescued from miserable - even life-threatening - circumstances by a mysterious benefactor named Niklaren Goldeye (who happens to be a seer), and brought to the quiet temple community of Winding Circle. Two things rapidly become apparent: the children are not fitting in well with their peers, and they have some skill at magecraft. They are brought to live together at Discipline Cottage, where together, they face off against bullies, earthquakes, pirates, forest fires, and plague, even traveling to death's door and back. Along the way, they find powerful teachers, learn life lessons, and squeeze in all the education they can handle, not to mention working incredible feats of magic, the most important of which being a simple thread circle that wove their four lives - and magics - together as one.
I've always rather enjoyed this series, partially because of the fantastic-yet-down-to-earth setting, partially because of the relatable characters, and partially because I'm a bit of a sucker for strong female leads - of which there are three in the first quartet, with strong supporting women as well. I also like how magic is handled in it - with magic, nothing useful can be gained without good, hard work, and mages are honestly mostly just another stripe of craftsperson, even when they aren't actually craftspeople as well. The schism between 'academic' mages (the traditional book-learning, rune-shaping, spellcasters) and 'ambient' mages (people who work magic through arts, crafts, and nature) is also rather believable and interesting.
Over all, a good fantasy series if you're into that kind of thing, and a series of solid coming-of-age stories told from four unique perspectives if you're into that kind of thing.
Just remember: despite all the murder and disaster and such, it's a kids' series.
Really.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Fucking Hell
I'm running on three hours' sleep and a shitload of caffeine, I'm tired, my giant gaping wound on my cheek hurts (and it'll feel so much better when I go apply peroxide to it, I'm sure), people suck, circumstances suck, fuck everything.
Drew the Death card as my card of the day. lololololol.
What are we transitioning to, eh? What major change is coming? I'd like to know. Would you like to know? I'd like to know.
Honestly nothing's been especially stable since I started this glorified, publicized journal, just in various states of disarray.
My car broke down. Key won't turn in the ignition switch. Like, at all, either copy. It's just stuck. Which means we can't turn the car on. Already spent money on getting it towed to the repair shop. Going to spend more money one way or the other to get it repaired, assuming they get their heads out of their asses and actually diagnose the goddamn problem.
We had to leave the car in a Wal-Mart parking lot for a day and a half (and oh, walking home in all that heat with a fever of my own was so much fun don'tcha know) because it got to the store just fine but it failed at existence when we tried to go home. Which meant in practice that at 7 AM Monday morning, Mom was dragging my ass (that went to bed at 3) out of bed and into the other car, in order to get it towed and I've already covered this part so let me just say that 8 AM is not a civil hour to be awake at, and most of the local businesses that aren't the repair places agree with me; they weren't open until 10.
I bought myself a LoL card with my paycheck money, and a pair of shoes because my old ones basically fell apart the other day, too.
I'm goin' to bed six hours before I normally would because I'm dead fuckin' exhausted (like, think queasy, about-to-throw-up, dead-eyed, caffeine-crash exhausted) and I get to do something I've missed so much since getting my own car - wait no, there's a reason I wanted one. Fucking public transit. I don't like busses. They reek, they're noisy, and one of them was involved in my hasty departure from public education. Oh, and you have to get up even earlier than you normally would in order to get there on time - it'll be prolly an hour bus ride to get where I'm going.
And I don't even know if the old 10-ride pass still works.
Oh, and all of these pens are dead. What, am I exuding an entropy field today? Fuck my life.
(And I feel bad for bitching, because no matter how much it sucks, someone else has it worse.)
Drew the Death card as my card of the day. lololololol.
What are we transitioning to, eh? What major change is coming? I'd like to know. Would you like to know? I'd like to know.
Honestly nothing's been especially stable since I started this glorified, publicized journal, just in various states of disarray.
My car broke down. Key won't turn in the ignition switch. Like, at all, either copy. It's just stuck. Which means we can't turn the car on. Already spent money on getting it towed to the repair shop. Going to spend more money one way or the other to get it repaired, assuming they get their heads out of their asses and actually diagnose the goddamn problem.
We had to leave the car in a Wal-Mart parking lot for a day and a half (and oh, walking home in all that heat with a fever of my own was so much fun don'tcha know) because it got to the store just fine but it failed at existence when we tried to go home. Which meant in practice that at 7 AM Monday morning, Mom was dragging my ass (that went to bed at 3) out of bed and into the other car, in order to get it towed and I've already covered this part so let me just say that 8 AM is not a civil hour to be awake at, and most of the local businesses that aren't the repair places agree with me; they weren't open until 10.
I bought myself a LoL card with my paycheck money, and a pair of shoes because my old ones basically fell apart the other day, too.
I'm goin' to bed six hours before I normally would because I'm dead fuckin' exhausted (like, think queasy, about-to-throw-up, dead-eyed, caffeine-crash exhausted) and I get to do something I've missed so much since getting my own car - wait no, there's a reason I wanted one. Fucking public transit. I don't like busses. They reek, they're noisy, and one of them was involved in my hasty departure from public education. Oh, and you have to get up even earlier than you normally would in order to get there on time - it'll be prolly an hour bus ride to get where I'm going.
And I don't even know if the old 10-ride pass still works.
Oh, and all of these pens are dead. What, am I exuding an entropy field today? Fuck my life.
(And I feel bad for bitching, because no matter how much it sucks, someone else has it worse.)
Friday, July 15, 2011
10 Things Nekhs is Not Allowed to Do in a Game of LoL
1. The Turret is not my friend.
2. No longer allowed to have Shen Bot on my team in Custom Games Vs. Friends.
3. No longer allowed to backdoor all three of the enemy's inhibitors in a 1v1 custom match and then go solo Baron just because I can't actually beat the enemy in 1v1. While effective, forcing your friend to do his best Scarface impression is only funny to you.
4. Not allowed to kill Revive Rally Jungle Soraka in the 2v1 Custom Game Vs. Friends, even though Destiny shows me exactly how close she is to getting blue buff.
5. Likewise, not allowed to kill all three inhibitors in a normal PvP match and then go do Baron while the Super Minions kill the enemy Nexus.
6. Not allowed to Gate up to the enemy's fountain to get that kill, even if itwould be was hilarious that one time.
7. There are always three enemies and a mushroom in any bush. No exceptions.
8. Actually, yes, Jungle Veigar will kick your ass, stop laughing.
9. Not allowed to play free or new champions for the first time ever in PvP matches.
10. Also not allowed to play Nocturne in Custom Games Vs. Friends. It isn't fair.
1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40
2. No longer allowed to have Shen Bot on my team in Custom Games Vs. Friends.
3. No longer allowed to backdoor all three of the enemy's inhibitors in a 1v1 custom match and then go solo Baron just because I can't actually beat the enemy in 1v1. While effective, forcing your friend to do his best Scarface impression is only funny to you.
4. Not allowed to kill Revive Rally Jungle Soraka in the 2v1 Custom Game Vs. Friends, even though Destiny shows me exactly how close she is to getting blue buff.
5. Likewise, not allowed to kill all three inhibitors in a normal PvP match and then go do Baron while the Super Minions kill the enemy Nexus.
6. Not allowed to Gate up to the enemy's fountain to get that kill, even if it
7. There are always three enemies and a mushroom in any bush. No exceptions.
8. Actually, yes, Jungle Veigar will kick your ass, stop laughing.
9. Not allowed to play free or new champions for the first time ever in PvP matches.
10. Also not allowed to play Nocturne in Custom Games Vs. Friends. It isn't fair.
1-10 11-20 21-30 31-40
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Two Strange Things
One: I poked in to check my emails (like I do about once every couple of days) on Yahoo (today, Tuesday, July 12, 2011), to have this charming instant message from a name I've never seen before.
From: charmaineimperioyhzx
Message: fade ffffffm8xc gHaut eW 6kN9o 9WWW.X1U.EUm
What. The. Fuck? I had an email a while back that I probably should've deleted straight up, as well, just spam but written in the ... most interesting of fashions. I can't find it anymore, anyway.
Probably reading too much into this but seriously, what the hell? Straight advertisement would read ... well, at all. I can't make heads nor tails of that. There didn't appear to be any attachments either ... feck, I dunno.
Oh, and the second one, which amused me greatly - the fanfiction piece I hammered out in about 45 minutes after finishing Fable II still gets more love than the epic I've been toying with off and on about Oblivion for literally years. Someone replied to each and every chapter with a response - we're talking one paragraph, maybe two or even a whole page per chapter, and the responses often as long as the chapters themselves.
I guess I'm just happy people like some of the things I write.
From: charmaineimperioyhzx
Message: fade ffffffm8xc gHaut eW 6kN9o 9WWW.X1U.EUm
What. The. Fuck? I had an email a while back that I probably should've deleted straight up, as well, just spam but written in the ... most interesting of fashions. I can't find it anymore, anyway.
Probably reading too much into this but seriously, what the hell? Straight advertisement would read ... well, at all. I can't make heads nor tails of that. There didn't appear to be any attachments either ... feck, I dunno.
Oh, and the second one, which amused me greatly - the fanfiction piece I hammered out in about 45 minutes after finishing Fable II still gets more love than the epic I've been toying with off and on about Oblivion for literally years. Someone replied to each and every chapter with a response - we're talking one paragraph, maybe two or even a whole page per chapter, and the responses often as long as the chapters themselves.
I guess I'm just happy people like some of the things I write.
Monday, July 11, 2011
The Abyss Gazes Also (Fanfic)
The Abyss Gazes Also
Or: A Summoner Has Disconnected
One of the purple team's Summoners had a nosebleed or something during the initial summoning, that was the only possible explanation for the hold up.
The three Champions were confined to the rune-inscribed 'fountain' platform, held in place by glowing white light while they waited for the match to begin. No amount of urging from their Summoners could force them out of place, even an inch. Even if they succeeded, that was against the rules; they'd lose by default.
All six of them were, understandably, rather bored.
She wondered idly what was running through Twitch and Alistar's minds - She generally didn't look that deep into Nocturne's, because She rather valued Her sanity. They worked well together, but He hated Her as He did all Summoners, and His mind was a treacherous, warped thing that had only become more horrible over His many eons of existence.
"I remember you," His words came anyway, blood on black velvet, piercing the still quiet of the minutes before the match.
She felt Her own physical eyes close, then open again. The statement had come as a bit of a surprise. "I would hope you did ...?" Honestly, she'd wondered - outside of a match, how well did the Champions remember the events that transpired within? She had trouble distinguishing which actions She performed and which the Champion did - She of course usually provided the will, intent, and a good deal of the magic, while the Champion generally provided the force and skill, but ....
"From before all this," He sent the sensation of disembodied hands dragging his bladed arms down, forcing Him to kneel despite His obvious lack of legs, before the image shifted. "You had such vivid nightmares as a child," He murmured.
She stilled, feeling the blood drain from Her skin. The world was dark for a moment. Intellectually, She knew this was still one of His abilities. Nocturne disrupted the enemy Summoners' link, cutting them off from each other, from their wards, from their minions, leaving them alone with their Champions - She'd commanded Him to use the ability enough times to know its effects. That didn't make the whispered, "All alone ..." any less chilling, however, especially as there was nowhere to run, no way.
This shouldn't be possible. There were restrictions, there were rules, the match hadn't even begun. But it was a direct link between Summoner and Summoned. They meshed together completely, two halves of a whole, their minds completely open to one another. It was the only way the spell could work.
Green tile, she remembered dully, staring up at the metal grating in the ceiling. The walls had been green tile. Six people, six ordinary people, seated on hard benches, chatting with each other while they waited for the experiment to begin, and none of them could sense what was wrong but her, with her tiny pinch of magic. None of them could see the white smoke billowing out of the grate, none of them could hear the hiss of air passing through a too-small opening.
Neiomi Kohen half-hugged herself, shaking, a low moan dragged unwillingly from her own throat. There was a whispered laugh in the back of her mind, but she couldn't discern where it came from, nor why it was important.
The blonde woman was the first to start screaming. She was older than Neiomi by a few years, and Neiomi knew from their earlier conversation that she'd had three children. The test subjects were to be paid a modest sum of money for participating in this experimental "treatment," and the blonde had needed every clipped copper penny she could get to make ends meet. The whites of her eyes turned red as blood vessels popped, her skin bubbling up from underneath, melting. She clawed at her own face with fingers that had lost their flesh, becoming mere bone. They popped apart, sticking into the gooey mess where her cheeks had been.
Neiomi had done her very best to not inhale the smoke, flattening herself against the wall and covering her mouth and nose with her hands. She had a minute or two to watch the changes as they were wrought on the other test subjects before the fire began consuming her own flesh.
It was magic, seeping in through her pores, filling every inch of her small frame. She knew how to heal, and so, as the magic began to kill her body piece by piece, she took it in, warping it from its initial purpose, growing new muscle in place of the old, new skin to cover that. It was an agony her young mind had never known, could never have imagined, but she remained focused - the alternative was death.
When they finally came to review the results of their tampering, only a handful of minutes later, she was the only person left who was even remotely human - the rest were sticky, reddish puddles smeared across the walls and floor. Even their bones had liquefied.
She saw a man with a gas mask standing over her, and heard a faint, "This one's alive!"
And then ... and then ....
A gray-robed Summoner stood over her fallen form, waving something that smelled absolutely foul under her nose. "Your match is about to begin," he said quietly. "You lost the link with your Champion - are you well enough to cast?"
"... what?" Summoner, Champion? She hadn't - it all came rushing back, with the force of an angry battering ram, pulsing at the back of her skull.
The Summoner shook his head, gently pulling her off the ground since she didn't have the presence of mind to do that for herself. He checked the back of her head with his hand, and the pain flared white-hot.
"I'm all right, I'm all right - " She felt a new tingle of magic - the man was doing some sort of spell.
His kindly, gray-green eyes pierced her, and she fell silent. "I'm getting a healer to look over you. No casting until we know how bad it is - your friends will have to make do." He glanced at the other two Summoners, who were too deep in their respective links to know exactly what had happened.
"But ...."
The older, more powerful Summoner raised an eyebrow, showing her the blood on his hand. "No 'buts.' You hit your head ... apparently."
Any possible protest died in her throat.
She imagined she could hear Nocturne's soft laughter tingling at the back of her mind.
That, too, was impossible.
Or: A Summoner Has Disconnected
One of the purple team's Summoners had a nosebleed or something during the initial summoning, that was the only possible explanation for the hold up.
The three Champions were confined to the rune-inscribed 'fountain' platform, held in place by glowing white light while they waited for the match to begin. No amount of urging from their Summoners could force them out of place, even an inch. Even if they succeeded, that was against the rules; they'd lose by default.
All six of them were, understandably, rather bored.
She wondered idly what was running through Twitch and Alistar's minds - She generally didn't look that deep into Nocturne's, because She rather valued Her sanity. They worked well together, but He hated Her as He did all Summoners, and His mind was a treacherous, warped thing that had only become more horrible over His many eons of existence.
"I remember you," His words came anyway, blood on black velvet, piercing the still quiet of the minutes before the match.
She felt Her own physical eyes close, then open again. The statement had come as a bit of a surprise. "I would hope you did ...?" Honestly, she'd wondered - outside of a match, how well did the Champions remember the events that transpired within? She had trouble distinguishing which actions She performed and which the Champion did - She of course usually provided the will, intent, and a good deal of the magic, while the Champion generally provided the force and skill, but ....
"From before all this," He sent the sensation of disembodied hands dragging his bladed arms down, forcing Him to kneel despite His obvious lack of legs, before the image shifted. "You had such vivid nightmares as a child," He murmured.
She stilled, feeling the blood drain from Her skin. The world was dark for a moment. Intellectually, She knew this was still one of His abilities. Nocturne disrupted the enemy Summoners' link, cutting them off from each other, from their wards, from their minions, leaving them alone with their Champions - She'd commanded Him to use the ability enough times to know its effects. That didn't make the whispered, "All alone ..." any less chilling, however, especially as there was nowhere to run, no way.
This shouldn't be possible. There were restrictions, there were rules, the match hadn't even begun. But it was a direct link between Summoner and Summoned. They meshed together completely, two halves of a whole, their minds completely open to one another. It was the only way the spell could work.
Green tile, she remembered dully, staring up at the metal grating in the ceiling. The walls had been green tile. Six people, six ordinary people, seated on hard benches, chatting with each other while they waited for the experiment to begin, and none of them could sense what was wrong but her, with her tiny pinch of magic. None of them could see the white smoke billowing out of the grate, none of them could hear the hiss of air passing through a too-small opening.
Neiomi Kohen half-hugged herself, shaking, a low moan dragged unwillingly from her own throat. There was a whispered laugh in the back of her mind, but she couldn't discern where it came from, nor why it was important.
The blonde woman was the first to start screaming. She was older than Neiomi by a few years, and Neiomi knew from their earlier conversation that she'd had three children. The test subjects were to be paid a modest sum of money for participating in this experimental "treatment," and the blonde had needed every clipped copper penny she could get to make ends meet. The whites of her eyes turned red as blood vessels popped, her skin bubbling up from underneath, melting. She clawed at her own face with fingers that had lost their flesh, becoming mere bone. They popped apart, sticking into the gooey mess where her cheeks had been.
Neiomi had done her very best to not inhale the smoke, flattening herself against the wall and covering her mouth and nose with her hands. She had a minute or two to watch the changes as they were wrought on the other test subjects before the fire began consuming her own flesh.
It was magic, seeping in through her pores, filling every inch of her small frame. She knew how to heal, and so, as the magic began to kill her body piece by piece, she took it in, warping it from its initial purpose, growing new muscle in place of the old, new skin to cover that. It was an agony her young mind had never known, could never have imagined, but she remained focused - the alternative was death.
When they finally came to review the results of their tampering, only a handful of minutes later, she was the only person left who was even remotely human - the rest were sticky, reddish puddles smeared across the walls and floor. Even their bones had liquefied.
She saw a man with a gas mask standing over her, and heard a faint, "This one's alive!"
And then ... and then ....
A gray-robed Summoner stood over her fallen form, waving something that smelled absolutely foul under her nose. "Your match is about to begin," he said quietly. "You lost the link with your Champion - are you well enough to cast?"
"... what?" Summoner, Champion? She hadn't - it all came rushing back, with the force of an angry battering ram, pulsing at the back of her skull.
The Summoner shook his head, gently pulling her off the ground since she didn't have the presence of mind to do that for herself. He checked the back of her head with his hand, and the pain flared white-hot.
"I'm all right, I'm all right - " She felt a new tingle of magic - the man was doing some sort of spell.
His kindly, gray-green eyes pierced her, and she fell silent. "I'm getting a healer to look over you. No casting until we know how bad it is - your friends will have to make do." He glanced at the other two Summoners, who were too deep in their respective links to know exactly what had happened.
"But ...."
The older, more powerful Summoner raised an eyebrow, showing her the blood on his hand. "No 'buts.' You hit your head ... apparently."
Any possible protest died in her throat.
She imagined she could hear Nocturne's soft laughter tingling at the back of her mind.
That, too, was impossible.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Headache
Brain is dull and headachey and dammit I think I've caught a thing. Sick.
No post today I think. So many damn typos, thank you backspace key.
Bleargh.
No post today I think. So many damn typos, thank you backspace key.
Bleargh.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
"Real" Encounters With Mysticism
The melody of mermaids
keeps me awake at night
The eyes of starlit heavens
following me secretly
So I'm going to preface this post with the admission that I - like so many others in this world - was very, very stupid as a child. So that's out of the way. Now, I've hinted obliquely and outright stated most of the content in this post in other places on this blog, as well (yes that's me, yes I know what I'm saying, writing backwards isn't that hard until e starts looking like it's supposed to be ɘ).
TL;DR: Jibber-jabber about crazy metaphysical stuff. Wall of text inbound, though there are pictures at the end.
Let's get started. Alpha, hon, you'll probably want to stop reading about here. (I know, you don't use that name anymore.)
Tarot
So some of my first experiences with any kind of mystical, magical stuff, other than the rites and rituals associated with organized religion, came from tarot cards. Innocent, easy tarot cards. Even hardcore anti-pagan Christians will sometimes get a tarot reading, or their horoscope did. It varies from case to case.
I tend to have about a 75% accuracy, I'd ... wager, anyway, though I'm horrible at answering questions with it. But then, that's partly the kind of spread I prefer - the standard Celtic Cross 10-card spread seems to generally assess the entire situation and give a full breakdown of the entire life, up to the moment in question. Mom is better, and that's part of the reason I never have her do a reading on me.
There are such stories there.
Nowadays I do a simple one-card draw almost every day, for general guidance. Since getting obsessed with the Slender Man mythos I tend to draw the Nine of Swords with alarming regularity - which is kind of fitting: this is the card of fear and nightmares.
When I was younger, I had a tarot reading at a local Renaissance fair, done at cost from a professional. My question was fairly simple: what is my power/strength/ability?
I have a tendency to attract cards from the Major Arcana. Of the entire spread, I only remember one of the cards now, and that one The Magician. The answer, as the tarot reader interpereted it, was that my power was the ability to change others' perception - to effectively appear how I want to other people.
The "Spirit" and the Rain
So this next bit is going to be from the gullible mind of an impressionable, sensitive child. Take it for what it is.
I've known Alpha most of my life, though we've only really met face to face the one time. At one point (I was in college, I remember), he got caught up in this ... pseudo-cult thing. It was headed by a girl who I spoke to once over the Internet and then never again, really. He's since stopped talking to her, and he requested not to talk about it with him ever again. She was rather persuasive, and they had this belief that he was some sort of angel-knight to protect her. (Emphasis on the first part.) She was some kind of figurehead magic-woman. I'm fuzzy on the details, partly because he didn't really talk about it much to me at the time, other than to suggest I was supposed to be some kind of seer, and powerful besides.
He wanted a taste of power, of better control, himself, and told me he had contacted a dark creature in order to get the training he wanted. (He gave it a specific name, but I don't remember.)
This is all relevant to a couple of specific incidents. One: he challenged me to try and develop the power he believed I had and use it.
He did this ... well, let me transcribe the conversation as well as I remember it.
Him: "I want you to picture someone. Anyone, really."
Me: "All right I've got something ... " It was a man-boy, a teenager or young adult, maybe, with dark hair and a denim jacket, seen from behind. Like a photograph.
Him: "All right. Now what I want you to do is I want you to make it rain. The [spirit] will know if you're successful. If you don't manage it within three days, that person, whoever it is, will die."
Me: "What."
In all honesty, in perfect honesty, I didn't care about the boy/man. I should have, but I didn't. It was an affront to my pride that he thought I couldn't accomplish this impossibility he presented me with, that there was some kind of condition for failure in this agreement. So I set out to do it, without the first inkling of how I should begin.
I'm fairly confident I did it wrong.
I'll admit, I was angry, a little, and prideful, and stubborn.
I took what I knew of how storms were born, how water is drug up from the river (and other bodies of water, but seriously, I live right on a river) to the clouds, gathering there until it becomes too heavy and falls. I took that knowledge, and I tried to force it along, to grow a storm as organically as possible. I had a pad of paper, and I like to draw, I focused my will through that, scratching dark circles with an ink pen onto the paper, representative of the storm's mass. From above, all storms make spirals, so I made spirals, concentric rings made up entirely of smaller rings, ink like water.
And then I focused all my will, and ... nothing happened.
A great big nothing, no storm clouds blocked the sky, though it was humid and there were some clouds. They just weren't right.
I kept at it, persistent.
It rained, a light sprinkle from an almost clear sky. Not enough to be serious, but enough to let me know I did something.
Maybe.
For the next week or so after whatever-I-did, I was laid low with some kind of illness, Mother Nature's fond "Fuck you," for tampering with her. I'm given to understand that whatever it was I did, I probably shouldn't have tried it.
Or, y'know, I could be crazy and caught a weird summer flu.
About Cat
This was actually when I met Alpha's friend Cat.
Cat and I talked over the internet, after the incident. She suggested that I'm a new soul, with only a couple of reincarnations to my name. She didn't like what I told her about the [spirit], or about Alpha's bargain.
She also said I had a dark green aura which ... might be a difference in perception, or she might be a manipulative bitch, I'll get to that in a minute. At the time, I had this belief that I had a black soul, black energy and that there was something horribly, terribly wrong with me. She also suggested that the [spirit] took advantage of me while I was working my 'spell,' that it ripped a chunk out of me, but she was going to heal it. I felt a weird, stabbing pain/tingle on my arm for the duration of her 'healing.' It was weird.
Energy Flow
The second major experience that I had with this kind of mysticism, before Alpha got out of it and I stopped really thinking about it much, came one night after a series of bad decisions. It was before talking with Cat, but after the rain incident.
Alpha was operating under the belief he was some kind of angel or higher-plane spirit, coloring his soul a brilliant white in contrast to my 'black.'
He said that he was able to change how his 'soul' felt and appeared, and that I should try it, since I was supposed to be this 'seer.' But that I wasn't supposed to try to imitate his energy, since he was an angel and that wouldn't work at all, with consequences.
You can probably imagine how that suggestion went.
I tried to mimic what I felt when I reached for my dear friend's energy, but I never quite succeeded. I determined that the issue was one of proximity - he was too distant, and the power I was reaching for was too vague and indistinct.
So I formed a lance of mental energy, with barbs in it, and I pierced the core of that fiery ball, telling myself I'd take only a small bit, for comparison.
Well, to my perception anyway, I succeeded well enough at bringing it closer, to examine it.
Now, this wouldn't be something I'd list here if there weren't at least a little evidence something happened, so this is that: while I was 'examining' my trophy, Alpha asked me what the hell I just did, saying that it hurt and he had no idea I was capable of anything like that and to never, ever do it again because it hurt.
But since I had a chunk anyway, I figured I'd try the other forbidden thing, to warp my energy to cause it to read like his.
My own power rolled under my examination, thrashing and twisting, never settled or still as I focused, fighting it to make it clean, a ball of milky white, rather than the black waters I normally envisioned. I burned off a lot of my black 'ball' of energy trying to perform this transmutation, but I succeeded ... for a moment or two, anyway.
Predictably, I got sick and nothing else came of it.
Aura Picture
I mentioned also that I was going to cover the 'aura color' a bit more thoroughly, and so I shall.
After college, I went to this psychic convention Mom had been invited to. It was in a small room, and I had a buzzing in my head, like all eyes were on me, picking at me and trying to make me give up my secrets. Among other things I looked into there, there was a little photo booth thing.
It took pictures of auras. Now, I've always believed in auras. People give off energy, especially electrical energy (which is how your iPhone works, by the way - capacitative touchscreens work off of the electrical energy and heat your fingers give off, not pressure. That's why it's nearly impossible to purse-dial with a touchscreen). A cloud of imperceptible energy surrounding everyine is plausible to me, because of that.
There've been studies on this matter - the aura is part of why amputees have phantom limb pains, in theory. An aura-reading machine took a picture of the aura of a leaf that had been cut in half before - and after - it was cut in half. The leaf retained its full-sized aura after the cutting.
Another important thing to note is that the pictures were all different. There were about six taken of different people, lying on the table by the machine's booth. Some were less intense in color, some more intense in color, with all kinds of different swirling hues overlaying the image of the person captured underneath. It was about $10 to get a picture taken with an interperetation attached, and mine didn't match anyone else's either. I think the woman doing the pictures was a little surprised at how intense it was.
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Most of the other pictures I saw were less intense, and I remember them with a lot more greens and blues and such.
The color interperetations attached to the image follow:
Center: orange, creative, artistic
My left: yellow; sunny, exhilaration
My right: red, force of will.
(My) Left side: Future Influences; yellow
Your future is bound to be thought provoking. Like the rising sun, yellow brings warmth. Yellows are representative of the intellect. Each shade or tint of yellow expresses a type of function, ability, or expression of the intellect, from the craftiness of a mustard yellow to the high thought of a golden yellow. You approach the future with a sense of excitement and joy.
Center: orange represents energy with mental direction. You are ALIVE, artistic, perceptive, creative. Constructive self-expression is important to you.
(My) Right side: Expressed Energy; red
You work hard at what you do. Intensity of experience and fulness of living. Conquest, energy-expanding, you put the energy out. The world sees you as alive, outgoing, sexual, and powerful.
Other colors:
Violet: intuition, art, creativity, supernatural abilities, faith, imagination, incorporeality, reticence, mysteriousness.
Lavender: mysticism, magic, profundity, obsession, intolerance
(I can't tell the difference between violet and lavender. I'm sure there is one, but I can't, so I threw them both in.)
White: developed intellectuality, spirituality, vision of God, higher consciousness, dreaming, energy build-up, pain.
So that's interesting, and seems fairly accurate, too.
Assuming Cat wasn't entirely full of crap - which is a huge factor to consider - my only theory as to why she thought 'dark green' goes thus: A) these things change. The first half of the machine reading was 'incoming' or 'future' energy, after all.
As for B) ...
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keeps me awake at night
The eyes of starlit heavens
following me secretly
So I'm going to preface this post with the admission that I - like so many others in this world - was very, very stupid as a child. So that's out of the way. Now, I've hinted obliquely and outright stated most of the content in this post in other places on this blog, as well (yes that's me, yes I know what I'm saying, writing backwards isn't that hard until e starts looking like it's supposed to be ɘ).
TL;DR: Jibber-jabber about crazy metaphysical stuff. Wall of text inbound, though there are pictures at the end.
Let's get started. Alpha, hon, you'll probably want to stop reading about here. (I know, you don't use that name anymore.)
Tarot
So some of my first experiences with any kind of mystical, magical stuff, other than the rites and rituals associated with organized religion, came from tarot cards. Innocent, easy tarot cards. Even hardcore anti-pagan Christians will sometimes get a tarot reading, or their horoscope did. It varies from case to case.
I tend to have about a 75% accuracy, I'd ... wager, anyway, though I'm horrible at answering questions with it. But then, that's partly the kind of spread I prefer - the standard Celtic Cross 10-card spread seems to generally assess the entire situation and give a full breakdown of the entire life, up to the moment in question. Mom is better, and that's part of the reason I never have her do a reading on me.
There are such stories there.
Nowadays I do a simple one-card draw almost every day, for general guidance. Since getting obsessed with the Slender Man mythos I tend to draw the Nine of Swords with alarming regularity - which is kind of fitting: this is the card of fear and nightmares.
When I was younger, I had a tarot reading at a local Renaissance fair, done at cost from a professional. My question was fairly simple: what is my power/strength/ability?
I have a tendency to attract cards from the Major Arcana. Of the entire spread, I only remember one of the cards now, and that one The Magician. The answer, as the tarot reader interpereted it, was that my power was the ability to change others' perception - to effectively appear how I want to other people.
The "Spirit" and the Rain
So this next bit is going to be from the gullible mind of an impressionable, sensitive child. Take it for what it is.
I've known Alpha most of my life, though we've only really met face to face the one time. At one point (I was in college, I remember), he got caught up in this ... pseudo-cult thing. It was headed by a girl who I spoke to once over the Internet and then never again, really. He's since stopped talking to her, and he requested not to talk about it with him ever again. She was rather persuasive, and they had this belief that he was some sort of angel-knight to protect her. (Emphasis on the first part.) She was some kind of figurehead magic-woman. I'm fuzzy on the details, partly because he didn't really talk about it much to me at the time, other than to suggest I was supposed to be some kind of seer, and powerful besides.
He wanted a taste of power, of better control, himself, and told me he had contacted a dark creature in order to get the training he wanted. (He gave it a specific name, but I don't remember.)
This is all relevant to a couple of specific incidents. One: he challenged me to try and develop the power he believed I had and use it.
He did this ... well, let me transcribe the conversation as well as I remember it.
Him: "I want you to picture someone. Anyone, really."
Me: "All right I've got something ... " It was a man-boy, a teenager or young adult, maybe, with dark hair and a denim jacket, seen from behind. Like a photograph.
Him: "All right. Now what I want you to do is I want you to make it rain. The [spirit] will know if you're successful. If you don't manage it within three days, that person, whoever it is, will die."
Me: "What."
In all honesty, in perfect honesty, I didn't care about the boy/man. I should have, but I didn't. It was an affront to my pride that he thought I couldn't accomplish this impossibility he presented me with, that there was some kind of condition for failure in this agreement. So I set out to do it, without the first inkling of how I should begin.
I'm fairly confident I did it wrong.
I'll admit, I was angry, a little, and prideful, and stubborn.
I took what I knew of how storms were born, how water is drug up from the river (and other bodies of water, but seriously, I live right on a river) to the clouds, gathering there until it becomes too heavy and falls. I took that knowledge, and I tried to force it along, to grow a storm as organically as possible. I had a pad of paper, and I like to draw, I focused my will through that, scratching dark circles with an ink pen onto the paper, representative of the storm's mass. From above, all storms make spirals, so I made spirals, concentric rings made up entirely of smaller rings, ink like water.
And then I focused all my will, and ... nothing happened.
A great big nothing, no storm clouds blocked the sky, though it was humid and there were some clouds. They just weren't right.
I kept at it, persistent.
It rained, a light sprinkle from an almost clear sky. Not enough to be serious, but enough to let me know I did something.
Maybe.
For the next week or so after whatever-I-did, I was laid low with some kind of illness, Mother Nature's fond "Fuck you," for tampering with her. I'm given to understand that whatever it was I did, I probably shouldn't have tried it.
Or, y'know, I could be crazy and caught a weird summer flu.
About Cat
This was actually when I met Alpha's friend Cat.
Cat and I talked over the internet, after the incident. She suggested that I'm a new soul, with only a couple of reincarnations to my name. She didn't like what I told her about the [spirit], or about Alpha's bargain.
She also said I had a dark green aura which ... might be a difference in perception, or she might be a manipulative bitch, I'll get to that in a minute. At the time, I had this belief that I had a black soul, black energy and that there was something horribly, terribly wrong with me. She also suggested that the [spirit] took advantage of me while I was working my 'spell,' that it ripped a chunk out of me, but she was going to heal it. I felt a weird, stabbing pain/tingle on my arm for the duration of her 'healing.' It was weird.
Energy Flow
The second major experience that I had with this kind of mysticism, before Alpha got out of it and I stopped really thinking about it much, came one night after a series of bad decisions. It was before talking with Cat, but after the rain incident.
Alpha was operating under the belief he was some kind of angel or higher-plane spirit, coloring his soul a brilliant white in contrast to my 'black.'
He said that he was able to change how his 'soul' felt and appeared, and that I should try it, since I was supposed to be this 'seer.' But that I wasn't supposed to try to imitate his energy, since he was an angel and that wouldn't work at all, with consequences.
You can probably imagine how that suggestion went.
I tried to mimic what I felt when I reached for my dear friend's energy, but I never quite succeeded. I determined that the issue was one of proximity - he was too distant, and the power I was reaching for was too vague and indistinct.
So I formed a lance of mental energy, with barbs in it, and I pierced the core of that fiery ball, telling myself I'd take only a small bit, for comparison.
Well, to my perception anyway, I succeeded well enough at bringing it closer, to examine it.
Now, this wouldn't be something I'd list here if there weren't at least a little evidence something happened, so this is that: while I was 'examining' my trophy, Alpha asked me what the hell I just did, saying that it hurt and he had no idea I was capable of anything like that and to never, ever do it again because it hurt.
But since I had a chunk anyway, I figured I'd try the other forbidden thing, to warp my energy to cause it to read like his.
My own power rolled under my examination, thrashing and twisting, never settled or still as I focused, fighting it to make it clean, a ball of milky white, rather than the black waters I normally envisioned. I burned off a lot of my black 'ball' of energy trying to perform this transmutation, but I succeeded ... for a moment or two, anyway.
Predictably, I got sick and nothing else came of it.
Aura Picture
I mentioned also that I was going to cover the 'aura color' a bit more thoroughly, and so I shall.
After college, I went to this psychic convention Mom had been invited to. It was in a small room, and I had a buzzing in my head, like all eyes were on me, picking at me and trying to make me give up my secrets. Among other things I looked into there, there was a little photo booth thing.
It took pictures of auras. Now, I've always believed in auras. People give off energy, especially electrical energy (which is how your iPhone works, by the way - capacitative touchscreens work off of the electrical energy and heat your fingers give off, not pressure. That's why it's nearly impossible to purse-dial with a touchscreen). A cloud of imperceptible energy surrounding everyine is plausible to me, because of that.
There've been studies on this matter - the aura is part of why amputees have phantom limb pains, in theory. An aura-reading machine took a picture of the aura of a leaf that had been cut in half before - and after - it was cut in half. The leaf retained its full-sized aura after the cutting.
Another important thing to note is that the pictures were all different. There were about six taken of different people, lying on the table by the machine's booth. Some were less intense in color, some more intense in color, with all kinds of different swirling hues overlaying the image of the person captured underneath. It was about $10 to get a picture taken with an interperetation attached, and mine didn't match anyone else's either. I think the woman doing the pictures was a little surprised at how intense it was.
The Aura Picture - exactly as it is in real life, more or less.
My computer doesn't know my scanner anymore, so I took a picture of it -
it's so glossy I can see a reflection of my phone and my thumb.
The color interperetations attached to the image follow:
Center: orange, creative, artistic
My left: yellow; sunny, exhilaration
My right: red, force of will.
(My) Left side: Future Influences; yellow
Your future is bound to be thought provoking. Like the rising sun, yellow brings warmth. Yellows are representative of the intellect. Each shade or tint of yellow expresses a type of function, ability, or expression of the intellect, from the craftiness of a mustard yellow to the high thought of a golden yellow. You approach the future with a sense of excitement and joy.
Center: orange represents energy with mental direction. You are ALIVE, artistic, perceptive, creative. Constructive self-expression is important to you.
(My) Right side: Expressed Energy; red
You work hard at what you do. Intensity of experience and fulness of living. Conquest, energy-expanding, you put the energy out. The world sees you as alive, outgoing, sexual, and powerful.
Other colors:
Violet: intuition, art, creativity, supernatural abilities, faith, imagination, incorporeality, reticence, mysteriousness.
Lavender: mysticism, magic, profundity, obsession, intolerance
(I can't tell the difference between violet and lavender. I'm sure there is one, but I can't, so I threw them both in.)
White: developed intellectuality, spirituality, vision of God, higher consciousness, dreaming, energy build-up, pain.
So that's interesting, and seems fairly accurate, too.
Assuming Cat wasn't entirely full of crap - which is a huge factor to consider - my only theory as to why she thought 'dark green' goes thus: A) these things change. The first half of the machine reading was 'incoming' or 'future' energy, after all.
As for B) ...
The original aura picture, with inverted colors.
Sure it's mostly blue, but there's some dark green there.
Remember to ignore that top spot - it's a
reflection from the overhead light.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Independence Day (pseudo-freewrite)
Or: Happy LET'S BLOW SHIT UP Day
(My god! It's full of BOOM, HEADSHOT!)
Writing this on Saturday because I'll probably be out on Monday. Bit bouncy. There's a ringing in my ears that won't go away and I don't know why but LA DI DA I'M IGNORING IT NOW. (I've been shaking a bit hands are shaking cold every so often the last couple of days too because I don't know with a fluttering rapid heartbeat.) Writing this entire post as it comes to me out of order and then putting the bits into order because that's what you do.
We develop a holiday to celebrate our freedoms and then we restrict it and limit it. Hilarious. It isn't legal to set off fireworks in Iowa, funfact.
Most people don't care about that and do it anyway at all hours of the night for about a week in either direction of the holiday. Also a funfact.
You can purchase them right across state lines legally, however. Third funfact.
I'll be doing so and then setting them off immediately (rather than bringing them home.) Because that is actually legal. Don't drink, but seriously, it's a holiday for legalized set things on fire and then they explode. Who doesn't enjoy that? Fact: setting things on fire is FUN.
Guns don't kill people, it's that ... funny noise they make. BANG BANG BOOM RATATATA -
A wild Ratata has appeared!
GO: HARBINGER OF DOOM!
Harbinger of Doom used Splash!
The attack was not very effective.
Goddamn you, Magikarp power.
I had a thought and then I lost it and it was wonderful.
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky
It occurs to me I haven't transcribed any of my freewrites in a while and it is problematic to do so now since the markerboard I used the last couple was used for other things (read: I wiped off all the writing and put new writing down.) Only problematic in that it's pretty hard to make out everything I wrote. But I have it on my phone so there's that too.
I need caffeine so badly oh my god.
Caffeine is a form of self-medication - and also the fountain of youth - and it helps to focus when you are unfocused and you should drink it therefore when you are unfocused or tired or - you know I bet nobody else can see how jittery you are or how much energy you have except for the fact that your leg keeps doing that bouncing thing and it's probably really annoying and your typing is really, really LOUD and it keeps Mom up at night and you're a horrible daughter.
I saw a bunny again today and it stood very very still and I froze and I crept up on it but it knew I was there and I knew it was there and we staaaaaaaaared at each other and then I took a couple of pictures I have so many bunny pictures because the BUNNIES ARE INVADING.
Must acquire holy hand grenade.
They're actually really friendly but I will never again own one as a pet because they kick and they bite and my five-year-old-self remembers them as being savage escape artists. Bunnies aren't really domesticated prey animals. Also fun.
Oh so I read all of Records of an Impossibility today and yesterday and followed it. Guy seems crazy, but what do I know? At least he admits to it. Plus it's good interesting reading for stimulating the brain places which require further stimulation. Braaaaaaaaaaains.
THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING.
On that note Wednesday's post is going to cover real (or maybe not) experiences with actual mysticism. That'll be fun.
My senses capture me~
(My god! It's full of BOOM, HEADSHOT!)
Writing this on Saturday because I'll probably be out on Monday. Bit bouncy. There's a ringing in my ears that won't go away and I don't know why but LA DI DA I'M IGNORING IT NOW. (I've been shaking a bit hands are shaking cold every so often the last couple of days too because I don't know with a fluttering rapid heartbeat.) Writing this entire post as it comes to me out of order and then putting the bits into order because that's what you do.
We develop a holiday to celebrate our freedoms and then we restrict it and limit it. Hilarious. It isn't legal to set off fireworks in Iowa, funfact.
Most people don't care about that and do it anyway at all hours of the night for about a week in either direction of the holiday. Also a funfact.
You can purchase them right across state lines legally, however. Third funfact.
I'll be doing so and then setting them off immediately (rather than bringing them home.) Because that is actually legal. Don't drink, but seriously, it's a holiday for legalized set things on fire and then they explode. Who doesn't enjoy that? Fact: setting things on fire is FUN.
Guns don't kill people, it's that ... funny noise they make. BANG BANG BOOM RATATATA -
A wild Ratata has appeared!
GO: HARBINGER OF DOOM!
Harbinger of Doom used Splash!
The attack was not very effective.
Goddamn you, Magikarp power.
I had a thought and then I lost it and it was wonderful.
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky
It occurs to me I haven't transcribed any of my freewrites in a while and it is problematic to do so now since the markerboard I used the last couple was used for other things (read: I wiped off all the writing and put new writing down.) Only problematic in that it's pretty hard to make out everything I wrote. But I have it on my phone so there's that too.
I need caffeine so badly oh my god.
Caffeine is a form of self-medication - and also the fountain of youth - and it helps to focus when you are unfocused and you should drink it therefore when you are unfocused or tired or - you know I bet nobody else can see how jittery you are or how much energy you have except for the fact that your leg keeps doing that bouncing thing and it's probably really annoying and your typing is really, really LOUD and it keeps Mom up at night and you're a horrible daughter.
I saw a bunny again today and it stood very very still and I froze and I crept up on it but it knew I was there and I knew it was there and we staaaaaaaaared at each other and then I took a couple of pictures I have so many bunny pictures because the BUNNIES ARE INVADING.
Must acquire holy hand grenade.
They're actually really friendly but I will never again own one as a pet because they kick and they bite and my five-year-old-self remembers them as being savage escape artists. Bunnies aren't really domesticated prey animals. Also fun.
Oh so I read all of Records of an Impossibility today and yesterday and followed it. Guy seems crazy, but what do I know? At least he admits to it. Plus it's good interesting reading for stimulating the brain places which require further stimulation. Braaaaaaaaaaains.
THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING.
On that note Wednesday's post is going to cover real (or maybe not) experiences with actual mysticism. That'll be fun.
My senses capture me~
Friday, July 1, 2011
Star (Wind's Nocturne)
Hoping it will come today
Into the starlit night
Foolish dreamers turn their gaze
Waiting on a shooting star
But -
What if that star is not to come?
Will their dreams fade to nothing?
When the horizon darkens most
We all need to believe there is hope.
Is an angel watching closely over me?
Can there be a guiding light I've yet to see?
I wish, then, for a chance to see
Now all I need
Is my star to come ....
Heard this song first waaaaaaaaay back when, uploaded somewhere else, in this here video (which isn't mine):
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