Curses: A SummaryThe first thing you have to know is that, unless you have an aptitude that relies on it, enacting magic on objects or people is very hard. The enchantment of a folded-space box takes no more energy than any other space-folding magic, because all of that magic works on external things. For a pyromancer to enchant a cup to be permanently heated would take a lot of energy, because regular pyromancy is untethered and requires extra energy to be tied to an object.More Like This
To be a bit clearer: enchantment takes more energy than other magic most of the time. Magicians with enchantment aptitudes use energy put to that purpose more efficiently, because it’s their only option, so less is required overall. I did say a bit clearer.
Curses, therefore, are pretty unusual; most of the aptitudes that lend themselves to enchantment are difficult to cause harm with, and other aptitudes can only be used for enchantment by unusually powerful magicians, or average magicians who are willing to die in t
On UnicornsThere is a lot of speculation about the nature of unicorns. It starts with whether they ever existed at all, and then quickly devolves into discussion of which classical form is most likely to have been the correct one, which can be pretty hostile; everyone has their pet theories.More Like This
The theory best known to the general public, and usually considered the most likely, is that stories of unicorns are simply misidentified monoceri. The monoceros is a fairly well-known beast, though not often seen due to its...we’ll say temperamental nature. For those unaware, it is an enormous and vaguely horse-shaped animal with elephantine feet and an enormous black horn used primarily for impaling things that annoy it, which is to say more or less everything. So far as anyone has been able to tell, it’s entirely carnivorous—we know it definitely eats meat due to the number of researchers that have been devoured, and only animal bait, usually live, has been able to entice any.
Brisancer “Step lively, Dr. Cutter. We’ve quite a drive ahead.”More Like This
Professor David Cutter heaved the last of his bags into the trunk, and then stepped into the back of the car which waited for him. A growl of its engine quickly sent it lurching forward, and the driver turned it towards the volcanic slopes of Mt. Brisancer.
Professor Cutter was an avid researcher of volcanoes, but only in his free time. His professional field was that of magical minerals, which was the entire reason he was here. He stuck his head out the window to get a better view as they approached. What lay before him was a beautiful specimen of a stratovolcano, and a healthily active one at that. Black smoke lazily drifted out of its crater, illuminated from beneath by a warm orange glow. Judging by the brightness of the glow, the lava chamber was extremely hot despite being exposed to the air. He had been told that it was perfectly safe, that it held no danger of erupting; and the numerous
Chapter One, Which is Far Too Full of Rats.Martha sat very still on the bench and waited for her mother to come back for her. They had been separated by the crowds getting off the train; a tall man in a brown suit had pushed between them, and Martha had lost sight of her. When the crowd cleared, she had been gone. The bench was not very comfortable; it was made of concrete that had been painted brown, and it was slightly sticky in the damp warmth of the subway tunnel. She stared at her feet, summer brown toes poking out of blue sandals, and at the constellations of petrified, blackened gum that dotted the cement floor of the platform.More Like This
Hugging her plush pony backpack, Martha wondered whether she might have really been forgotten this time. Sometimes she worried that she would be. There were times, which she always thought of as Going Away, when it seemed like almost nobody could see or hear her. Those were always the times she met the Folks.
Music started up away down the tunnel, Martha looked over to see a man playing the violin
Auld - VampiresVampirism - What Is It?More Like This
Vampirism is a magical affliction that dramatically alters the body of the victim, leaving them in a perpetually weakened state.
There is only some vague idea as to precisely where this curse originated. Unlike lycanthropy, the origins of vampirism can be traced back to early elvenkind, but even elves in their vast knowledge and rich history have been unable to pinpoint a source. With this in mind, however, it becomes that much clearer that the effects of the affliction were designed specifically for elves, even while it is actually humans who are more commonly affected.
Becoming A Vampire - Examining The Process
Contraction - The victim must be bitten on or near to the neck. This will leave a wound which scars slowly and rejects healing, leaving a dark area of skin with a network of tiny veins around the puncture.
Auld - The AfflictedSome notes: We will set aside elves for the most part in this explanation, as they rarely co-mingle with humans, cannot be affected by lycanthropy, and the term “Afflicted” does not apply to their own brand of vampirism.More Like This
Afflicted is a term used to describe a human that is living as either a vampire or lycan. Although these two illnesses differ considerably, those affected are generally put into the same category and regarded with equal amounts of disdain.
As of yet, there has been no cure found for either condition.
Treatment of the Afflicted varies by location; from country to country, and even city to city, but in the present age, all of the wealthiest countries have abandoned the persecutions of old and begrudgingly reach out to those that have been changed.
Typically, if they properly register with the government, therefore allowing it to take all
Awkward GratitudeHunger had failed to kick in at any appropriate time, and now it just seemed like a laborious chore to find something to eat. At this hour, options were limited, and any thought of getting up and making something was blown out the window completely by exhaustion. Alex was hungry, but she was more tired than that. Now that she was sprawled out on her couch, she wasn't going to get off it except for the journey to her bedroom at some point.More Like This
It had been an exceedingly long day. Long and difficult and ultimately fruitless. And humiliating and degrading. Not to mention disappointing. Probably some other choice adjectives as well but she was too tired to keep thinking what they might be.
Fulton and Deke didn't look like they'd enjoyed it any bit more than she had, for sure. A cursory glance at them through the slightest lift of one eyelid showed Deke looking dejectedly out the window with all four tails falling slack behind him, and Fulton leaning in the door way against the frame, picking d
Afterrealm: Carried Away (part I)The StationMore Like This
23 August 2010
The voice was light and male, colored with a hint of uncertainty. She looked up from her reading, turning eyes like jade and a polite smile on the speaker. He was tall, lean rather than thin, and looked absolutely uncomfortable with one hand raking his bangs back from his long face and his shoulders turned slightly away from her.
"I am she," She replied, closing her notebook as she rose, offering her hand. He was not just tall, she realized. He towered over her by almost nine inches, placing him at a lanky six-foot-two. She was not unaccustomed to the difference, as her combat trainer topped her by one inch more than he, but it was a bit startling. Even in Haven, where genetics had little say in matters, such impressive statures were rare.
"I'm Crispin Alexander,
.tonightMore Like This
the moon is rotting,
my hands are not my own
my blood is howling
(treetops glow silver)
Tupple and Toft - IntroThe halls of Chudmore Manor are long and wide, well-lit and uncluttered. The rooms are spacious (except the water closet, which is a claustrophobic as the name suggests), and the ceilings are high.More Like This
Most importantly though, the cupboards are locked.
When I say ‘cupboard,’ I mean it in the broadest sense of the word. By the loosest of definitions, ‘cupboard’ here refers to all pantries, cabinates, hope-chests, baby-grands, secretary desks, potato barrels, and of course cupboards, in the house.
The reason for this is - basically - Vikings. Other things too of course, like dinosaurs, robots, wandering royalty, strangler vines, nasty odors, the color wellow, Babylonians, luchadors, and rats. Mostly though, it’s Vikings.
However, it should be stated that just locking the cupboards is often not enough to keep things in their places. Today for example, something had got through the piano in the study, and it was now causing the residents of Chudmore Manor a
Fatherloving, caring fatherMore Like This
protection from the world
constant pillar of strength
never crying, always trying
bias, proud, courageous
but the mask hides reality
the black pit of endful emotionless
painful spiritual hollowness
painful for the victim
not for the killer
does the child feel the water
gushing into life
as mother rids the world of it?
does the wife feel the fists
disecting fragile love
as husband rids body of drink?
does the daughter feel resentment
as father kills hope
having way, feinting ignorance?
if they felt, would they care?
would their love be less?
or only bruised and forgotten
cut off from society
accepting cruel fate
in all shapes, bodies, forms.
the love of life
could turn walking plague
but never death
callous.More Like This
you miscontrue me as weak and brittle
but i'm just as strongwilled as i am little.
my cynical slander is marked with abandon,
my harsh tone, only a puppet with my hand in.
i speak before i think, quick witted as a fox
i say what i shouldn't from far outside the box
you think when you look at me,
"perverse and rude, that's him to a tee"
i have a razor tongue, sharp and red hot
i'll cut you, burn you, oblivious that you're distraught
although i'm vicious, and unkind as death,
i'm nice to some, if they're worth my breath.
don't you realize i'm playing defense
with the emotions of others, marked as minor expense?
i don't want to offend you, but just the same
you 'most surely deserve it, and callous is my game.
Singled OutMore Like This
Some kids got singled out for a reason. Troublemakers. "Problem children." Problem parents. Black kids. Some kids just didn't feel right.
Most times the teachers had a reason. In the case of Marla Sanford, she didn't feel right.
The girl wore girls clothes, but they were always a more boyish cut. Had she elder brothers Mrs. Williamson bet the girl would have just worn their clothes. Getting her hair down out of its ponytail was a feat. Every year at pictures, fight, fight, fight. And boy, could that girl fight. She'd given the principal a black eye, and bled open both Mr. Peterson and Mr. Wier. They wouldn't let her play on the boys soccer team.
Marla wasn't funny, like queer, she was just different. No one could quite say why. She excelled at math and science, but would recede into a book or disappear into a painting just as easily. The girl had a penchant for t
visible ghostsjust because i move in this worldMore Like This
doesn't mean that i breathe life vigorously
i just can't give a good god damn these days
while i scrounge for sustainance
it's everybody for themselves
and blood is no thicker than water
even love seems lightyears off center
we're visible ghosts
weaving patterns of apathy
in the desert sands infecting the sea
infatuationi've been waiting for youMore Like This
you move through this place like a ghost
radiant floating shrouded in shadows
you appear like mist disrupting nothing
in your pace and then whisk away
through walls and closed doors
i can read you though
i can read you like a billboard
faded and scratched raw by unforgiving winds
but i can decipher your cipher
fine scents remain hung in the air
like dead silence and caught in spider webs
diminished by brutal trainwreck men
and rendered sullied by nothingness
yet i stand at your epicenter
swallowed by whisper thin trails
of jet engines of your thought
your walls are fabricated arc and column
sustaining my thirst for brighter
calmer cooler waters
your colors comforting in this swampland dream
oh but i would tender if i could
a graceful touch from your claws
a burning word from your primrose lips
to quell all manner of inner demons
if only i could catch the sublime specter
in this assembly of phoenix fire and empire dirt
you move too fast you work too much
SuddenlySuddenly.More Like This
A constant that has been part of your life ever since you can remember is gone.
Every now and then.
Your hand just drifts up and covers your mouth.
Your subconscious is trying to stop you screaming.
Although youre not making a sound.
You have the urge to visit places you no longer have any emotional
Because the last time you were there the one who is missing wasn't gone.
Because your mind has rebelled at the enormity of what has happened.
It tells you not to be stupid.
Of course they are not gone.
You have just imagined it.
Reality seeps back in.
And you have not.
Everything is normal and nothing is wrong.
But you pick up some spurious item.
A connection is made.
The weight of their absence comes flooding back.
ScarsI'm typing this hoping and not hoping that people will read. After all, this site draws in people who are unconsciously drawn to images and colors rather than dull, uninteresting words that are just black against the sand-colored backdrop of this website.More Like This
But anyway, here goes.
I have scars. Yes, I would agree to the possible first thought that popped into your head, who doesn't? Well allow me to rephrase that, then.
I have man-made scars.
They mark several parts of my body, thick and thin line, gouges and raised tissue parallel to each other, and some spelling out words, and some crossed each other to form raised thick notches. My skin is a warzone. Forts and trenches each told a story of a battle that required a strong will and mind as well as the ability to even see, as clear as day, who you're fighting against. In this case, my mind in all its twisted parts hiding in the darkest of rooms, awaiting for me to fall into their trap and relapse.
I had depression since 10, which w
MusicI walked through the busy streets, fighting my way through the crowds to get home. The buzzing and bustling was loud, like hornets zoning in onto me and making angry sounds. I didn't bring my headphones that day; an extremely regrettable action of forgetfulness. i just couldn't wait to get home.More Like This
The elevator made its quiet hum. Strangely enough I could not place a note on it. White noise washed over me and I stared blankly at the automated numbers change as I pass each storey. Light from each floor shone pass the glass panes and into my eyes; yet I did not blink. My mind was already on the peace and tranquility I could embrace in the haven of my room. I rushed like a child to her parents upon reaching home into my room.
It was quiet; it was serene. Stuffy, yes. But my haven. Where I spent time crying, praying, reading, sleeping, playing and listening to music. I had a taste of its golden silk-like sweetness when I was young, got to touch the onyx black and ivory white of a piano as I w
My humanHi! I'm Dots, or that's what my little human calls me. The bigger taller ones call my Dasch. I'm a daschund and I wanna just tell a story (since I'm bored lying down at night and cannot sleep) of the little human called Tenna.More Like This
Tenna's a tiny thing compared to her parents when I was just a pup. She knew how to waddle but fell everytime, so she liked to crawl on all fours, like me! Except that I can't walk on my hind legs, and aren't trained for it. She and I fell in love with each other when we knew how to connect in a level of traveling around the big house on all fours. Of course, as time went by she learned how to walk on her hind legs and all I did was to get longer. She loves me, I tell you. Calls me her 'sausage'. Though I love to eat them I know I'm not one be cause I'm black and furry all over, not pink and smooth and yummy. And I've a tail and a head and... you get my drift.
So Tenna has always been a happy kid until she started going out of the house to a place to learn stuff.
YouI want to write a poem about youMore Like This
Yet nothing comes to mind
My eyes rove over your messages
On a bright screen in the dark
My heart is confused
So is my mind
Of the addicting push and pull
Of the entirety of you
In the drawer I keep
Letters and written messages
Secret photos and the
CDs you burned for me
All around the room
Dead and gone they are
Flowers you gave that died and dried
After the many days of surprise
On my left, as I lay in bed
The Christmas card you gave
One dear to me; dearer than the gift
A gift itself to my heart and soul
On my right caress the other half
of the plushies we bought together
I'm wondering if you were dreaming
A miracle dream of us
I'm shaking when I realize
How obsessed I am with you
The you I now know not of
The one I am confused
I realize too that I'm surrounded
By everything of you
Down the rabbit hole I go
Like a leaf without its anchor, without you down I go.
HuntYellow eyes shifted in the dark, illuminating black with dim light. His breath came out in a snort; he was still tired but something woke him up. He got up on all fours; stretching fatigued muscles and sinew. Shortly came groaning; he still felt sore from the previous night of hunting. Warmth emanated from him as smoke came through his nostrils. He saw nothing that might have woken him up. Swiveling his head from side to side and then to his back, he chanced across a wound. From hunting? He must be getting old. Or just tired; his mind told him.More Like This
His brain took a while to register the new little change before it came squeaking and hurtling towards him. Oh yes. Little long thing of a son. With brilliant maroon scales glowing from the the fire within, like his daddy. And eyes; not to mention the glowing yellow amber eyes. Junior nipped at one of his larger scales; begging to play. He frowned; he should still be trying to fly right yet he was in the air. And he was proven correct as Junior
A day.Wind ripped muscles across her face as she ran, waves of skin and fur accompanying the initial ripple from her face. Paws hit the ground silently; she must not be heard. Play fighting memories flashed past her mind; refreshing her of training games before a change in prey direction immediately sent her reeling towards the east. She slowed to a prowl; eyes focused on the little antlers as they peered from the long dry grass; moving with her as she slowly sneaked to where the wind blew to her favor.More Like This
It was grazing Good; full prey meant slow prey. She inched closer to it; pausing only temporarily when its ears pricked at the slightest sound or when its tail swished the flies away. Her muscles tensed with anticipation of a good meal; her hunger slightly abated while adrenaline of catching the prize coursed through her veins. She was close enough; any time now.
As the deer bent its neck down for another bite of bland grass she leapt. Into the air and down again; it did not have even a
FreedomPetals blew in the wind, freely frolicking and dancing. She grumbled to herself about the lack of freedom and tossed in the long blades of grass. No one could find her here. It was probably the freest she could be, though temporary. She turned again, and stilled for a moment as she willed herself to be less anxious of the world moving past.More Like This
The wind was in her ears; but she could still hear the rippling and gurgling of the stream below. She closed her eyes and listened closer. They were singing a song to her; the nymphs in it were happy. That made her happy too. Her heart soared at the orchestration of nature. Chirping from birds caused her to open her eyes again, temporarily blinded by the rays of the sun. Orioles flew around; so golden they seemed like they had came directly from the sun itself.
Her restlessness forced herself up; and she took a tentative step towards the slope. Slowly, step by step, she approached the river. Reeds waved welcome to her; and a headache pressed in her
RebirthManiacal laughter filled the room as he watched her stare at her hands in horror. She was kneeling in a pool of blood - not her own. He made her do it, he had to have done it, forced her somehow to totally dissect that innocent young intern. But she didn't know how he did it. Triumph was evident on his face as he slowly stepped towards her, grinning widely with obvious glee.More Like This
"How does it feel, sweet?" He asked, voice barely controlled from bursting into another bout of laughter. "You monster," she spat, "I don't know how you did this, how you made me kill him, but you're a monster, you're sick, twisted, vile, damned-"
"Perhaps, just insane? I am, after all, in an asylum," He grinned wider. He glanced down at an invisible watch on his wrist and whistled. "I think it's about time where my fellow inmates have possibly... incapacitated or even eaten other guards and interns who would be a problem to us.. Now, would you come with me? You seem pretty happy and in your own doozy world while h
Nature's callThe rain seemed unstoppable. Hard pattering on the glass panes would make it difficult for anyone to sleep. Without checking, it was almost guaranteed to flood up to the ankles at the first floor. The cold from the storm crept into the rooms, through the pores of the walls and through the glass of the panes. Each of the household huddled in their woolen blankets and quilts and Gahme, their husky, curled up in her nest of blankets and cushions, sleepily watchful at the glass as lighting sporadically flashed past accompanying its thunderous sister Loud Sound.More Like This
Sonya couldn't sleep. The storm excited her too much. Yet being the frail little skinny thing that she was, she was frozen to the bone. Purple highlighted itself on the base of her fingernails, and her brain hammered her for need of really hot soup. She was glad everyone else was asleep amidst the thunderstorm. She was alive in the night, especially a night like this one, and zero human activity was as orgasmic as feeling the vibrat
Notes on Cornelius as a ShapeshifterA reminder. Cornelius was originally human. He ran afoul of a form-destroying virus which malfunctioned, mutating his body into a genetic hodgepodge of all former hosts of the virus, including himself. Although he's now apparently a monster thing, the virus left his original code intact. Each of his cells contain double DNA strands, one human and one glatni. He's able to express either set at will. But there are lots of catches.More Like This
Just keep in mind that 'unshifted', 'normal', 'actual' Cornelius is glatni, 'shapeshifted' Cornelius is human.
By definition, anything 'magical' that happens in the Network works in conjunction with the nearby dimension, which has different physics. In Cornelius' case, this foots the bill for his change in mass. When he transforms, his shifting field (an area around him pushed drastically nearer the other dimension, temporarily allowing crazy things like all your cells changing at once without killing you) yanks/pushes a whole load of extra matter into/out o
The SpecialistThe SpecialistMore Like This
"Ah, and so we meet again. Sooner than I expected, at that."
The voice floated out of the darkness, and hung in the air for a chilling moment. Then the screaming face of a monster burst out of the shadows and rushed at Avatar Aang's face. The young man kept complete mastery of himself, and didn't so much as react to the cheap tactic. "Greetings, Koh."
The Spirit's face shifted to what Aang considered its default, a human visage painted like an actor of the classic theatre. "I sense challenge in you, Avatar. You have not come for my help this time, but neither have you come in the form with the most reason to seek my unbinding."
"I cannot seek justice as Aang?"
"Justice?" The face shifted to that of a dour old man and laughed. "You humans think you know justice, and pretend it a concept you invented for yourselves. Yet when it comes to paying the price of your crimes," the face changed again as the Spirit spoke, the hair darkening and growing, the wrinkles smoothin
Seventeen (In Phases)1.More Like This
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday when her father left taught her just how a single person had the ability of taking your soul, splitting it in two and wearing it on their breast pocket like a white carnation waiting to die.
That was why when she lifted a book, she looked at the last page first.
That was why her namelessness had become a comfort to her.
That was why sh
An Intro to The LibraryMore Like This
Six years ago the Greater Altalamatox Public Library put its small and remote home city on the map when it spilt out of the ether and onto the shores of its lake.
It's a building with a lot of history. Once part of a prestigious campus, it was last owned by a club of gents with a shared passion for illegal spellcraft and dimensional exploration, who used it to hide their howling voids into the cosmos and also their pointy hats and anything else they didn't want their wives to find. They never did accomplish discovery of a new world- or never had the satisfaction of knowing they did- but did manage one highly impressive feat which was to tuck the Library sideways between dimensions when the police came 'round to investigate. This was about a hundred and ten years ago.
The gentlemen, after their prison terms ended, never succeeded in summoning back the building. To that end they'd have to have known where it lay nearest to this world, and to their distress they were witne
A Brilliant PlanTigress came into the kitchen, knowing she would more than likely find Po. Master Shifu was awaiting them all for their usual afternoon training and Po was the only one that hadn't shown up yet. As she expected, he was there. He was standing in front of a boiling pot of water with a bag of rice in one of his hands.More Like This
"Po, what are you doing?" He jumped a little, startled by her sudden presence, but quickly realized who it was.
"Whoa, you really enjoy doing that prowling thing don't you?" he said turning around to look at her. She smirked slightly, betraying that she did take some pride in being able to prowl silently. "I just thought I'd cook a little snack before training and…"
"Training is now," she cut him off.
"What? Training is…now?" Po brought his hand to his face, feeling like an idiot as he did. "Really? I could have sworn there was at least like thirty minutes left before Shifu wanted us. Man, he's going to kill me for being late again."
"Maybe not kill you," Tigre
Moments During DroughtsIpod shuffle Challenge:More Like This
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them.
1. Dearest- Buddy Holly
He couldn't help but grumble as he puttered down the street. The nerve of that girl, calling him of all people. She could have walked, had one of her Chlapec hračky give her a ride, called a cab, Something. But no, she had to call him to come pick her up. He pulled up to the front of the University and wondered why he even put up with it.
Then he saw her standing there. Arms clasping her books and a fashion magazine to her petite body that trotted happily over to the truck. She flashed him a smile as she opened the passenger door and began babbling about something or other. Then he