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Monthly Archives: March 2014

Drums of War #2 – Interactions

31 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Stories, The Drums of War

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Creative Writing, fantasy, part 2, Story, The Drums of War, tropes

Part 1

Keita curled her hand about her mug of ale and looked at the two men sitting across from her. The two men appeared to be polar opposites of each other, the one young and fair and the other old and rugged, but that didn’t stop the easy camaraderie between them. “So it’s a story you want then,” She began. “I suppose I can oblige.”

“You see, I am a member of the Ora tribe. My parents were amongst the Chosen whom wander about the Irati plains.” Lucien started slightly, though Turgis simply looked confused. Noticing the older man’s confusion, he explained.

“They’re barbarian tribes, Turgis. They roam about the plains in packs, killing off anyone they come across. The Crown’s Guard has been trying to stop them for years so we could settle the lands.” Keita glared daggers from steely grey eyes at the young prince. Turgis scoffed, interrupting Lucien’s rant before he gained steam.

“I think you’ve offended the lady. Please, continue with your story Keita.”

“As I was saying,” Keita began, still glaring at Lucien, “My parents were among the Chosen whom wander the plains, as our people have done for generations upon generations, defending our lands from those whom mean to take it.” Lucien muttered something under his breath about travellers and merchants, but Turgis fixed him with a glare of his own and he opted for a stubborn pout as Keita continued her story.

“Among the Chosen there is a tradition that when a child has come of age, they must set out on their own journey towards our sacred site. There, they will meet with the Elders of the Ora, and their destiny will be decided. Most do not return to their parent’s tribes after their journey.”

“Two months ago, I set out on my own journey to the sacred site. Our tribe was far from the site when I began, but the path is simple. The sacred site is at the head of the Medina river, which begins in the woods beyond the plains, but forks and flows throughout the plains. But when I arrived, there were no elders to greet me. Instead, there was a town wall and Avesta guards.” Keita focused her gaze on Lucien. “When I requested entry through the gates to visit the sacred site, the guards instead chose to open fire.” Lucien began to turn a brilliant shade of red.

“I brought down one man with my throwing knife, he was clearly not expecting me to fight back…” She smiled wickedly as her fingers traced a small blonde braid woven into her hair, “But then they opened the doors, and ten more men charged out at me. I…” She paused, biting her lip, “A stranger came running out of the gates behind them. He was armed with a bow and not dressed like a guard. With his help, I killed the rest, but he urged me to come with him to a small hut outside the gates.”

“As we walked, he explained that the town had been formed recently, under the order of the King. When the first of the Ora came asking permission to see the sacred site, they had let him in, but upon arriving at the river head, the man had flown into a fury, killing many villagers before he was killed himself. Since then, they had erected a fence, and turned away any Ora who came.”

“The stranger believed that the villagers had unknowingly destroyed what was once the sacred site but said that many others had died trying to turn away the journeying Oras. When he met the Elders while hunting, he had warned them not to go to the town. Instead, the Elders had scattered, each leaving in a different direction to seek an answer from the sacred sites of their ancestors. The oldest, Elder Rosenth, remained behind, hidden in the man’s hut. Alone, she was only able to give me part of my destiny. To reclaim our sacred grounds.”

Turgis turned to Lucien, cutting off the young man just as he opened his mouth. “Lucien, I believe I’ve won this bet, go buy the next round of drinks.” Lucien spluttered, his face having grown steadily redder and angrier for several minutes.

“What? No, Turgi-”

“Go.” Turgis forcefully pushed him out of the booth until both men were standing. “Before you do something stupid.” He said quietly. Lucien glared at the older man and whispered fiercely,

“You heard her, she killed several of my men. Those are good people in Avendale, and some traitor in the village helped!”

“She ran.” Turgis said firmly. “Now go get the drinks before you do something stupid like start a fight in neutral territory.” Lucien glowered at him before turning and pushing his way towards the bar. Keita smiled smugly at his back as Turgis sat back down.

“Now my dear, that is an interesting tale, but what brings you so far out this way? Cetrius is neutral grounds, the druids won’t take kindly to you building an army in this town.” Keita’s smile faded for slightly embarassed one.

“Ah well, it was only part of the destiny. Rosenth insisted I find the other six Elders to hear the rest of the destiny before taking action. One of them was headed this way.” Turgis smiled.

“You really have no idea how you’re going to take on a whole town, do you?” He asked. Keita blushed, making the scars along her cheek stand out sharply, and opened her mouth to say something angrily, when three mugs of beers plunked down on the table. Turgis grabbed one. “Welcome back, Lucien! I retract my question, Keita. Perhaps now would be a good time to move to lighter topics.” He smiled warmly at the two younger people’s perplexed looks.

To Be Continued

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Something Sad

30 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Odds and Ends, Stories

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sad, Story

Head in his hands, John stared at his desk below him. He remembered buying it with her, at an garage sale years ago. He could practically hear Julie beside him, trying to convince him that hiding under the ugly stain and worn wood was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. He couldn’t really believe her then, but he could never resist her optimism, and plunked down the cash for the desk. He could still see her face, covered in sawdust and sunbeams, sanding away at the old stain for the next three weeks. His Julie. Now she was sitting in the most beautiful wooden box he could afford, thanks to him. It was all his fault.

He willed his eyes to look through the wood, into the drawer below him. There was a gun down there, a Glock .45. Julie hated it, but John had grown up around guns, and just felt better knowing it was there. Well, she had hated it… Maybe she still would hate it if she knew what John was thinking about doing with it. It would certainly be a nicer death than she’d had. His body shook as he thought about her last moments, stuck in a hospital bed with tubes and cords running everywhere. The glock would be a better death than he deserved.

Teardrops splattered on the cherry stained wood. John tried to will them away, but with little more success than he’d had trying to see through the wood. Julie would have known what to say, she always knew how to fix any situation. Except herself. Laying in the hospital after the crash, he’d tried to convince her that it was all going to turn out alright, that the doctors knew what they were doing. But she knew. His hand shook as he lowered it from his head, towards his lap. His hands curled around in familiarity, and palmed through the familiar motions as he drew the object up to the desktop.

“Hello, suicide helpline” rang out in a familiar voice from his cellphone.

“Hi.” John’s voice wavered. “I killed my wife.”

First Day of School

28 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Established Universe, Odds and Ends, Stories

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fanfic, Harry Potter, Story

“Man, I can’t believe they managed to set up a Wizarding school in this dump.” Jerrica complained as she and Stephanie watched the water crash around the bow of the ferry.

“What’s wrong with Atheleona’s WS? I think it’s really nice being this close to Toronto.” Stephanie asked as the school came into view. Located on Mugg’s Island, just beside Toronto Island, the city skyline was still clearly in view from the north coast of the small island.

“It’s just so… unimpressive! I hear in the UK, they have real castles as Wizarding schools, and not some poor excuse at a Victorian Mansion.” Jerrica huffed as the ferry pulled into a small wooden dock out of the woods on the sheltered side of the island, marked only by an unassuming statue of a lion.

Mrs Leibritz disembarked first, herding the first years behind her, and touched her wand to the statue. The statues eyes began to glow blue, and triggered a wake of other glowing eyes, outlining a path through the woods with a variety of different birds and animals. Stephanie gasped from the ferry deck along with the first years in their oversized robes, and the younger ones jostled each other to get a better look. Jerrica snorted and elbowed the girl.

“Come on Steph, you’ve seen this like, 4 times now. It’s just some fancy lights. Let’s go get our robes on.” Jerrica turned to head down to the lower deck, flouncing her bubblegum pink hair off her shoulders in a way that made half the boys on deck turn and watch.

Stephanie lingered behind, taking in another look at the slowly fading lights as the ferry moved on to the proper docks. It always sent a chill down her to remember that walk the first night through the woods, as all the statues followed her with their eyes. She was so mesmerized by them that she didn’t notice how far the group had wandered ahead, until she walked straight into an owl statue and realized all the other first years were far ahead and she was alone in the dark. She’d nearly panicked when she felt a cold shape touch her hand, but when she looked, it was one of the wolf statues. The statue looked at her, then cocked it’s head as if to say “They went that way.” She’d scurried away with barely a nod to say thank you.

Below deck, Jerrica was digging out her robes when Stephanie arrived.

“I hate these robes.” She complained, “You’d think they’d update them to something a little more fashionable this close to the city.”

“They did once.” Stephanie reminded her, “Haven’t you seen the old class pictures in the common room where they have all those feathers?”

“Yeah well… Maybe they should update them more than once every 5 centuries. They’re totally lame now.” Jerrica picked at the black robe distastefully. “At least we get to wear real clothes when we go to Wizardtown on the weekends.” Stephanie laughed.

“Well, maybe your birthday present will help.” She said, handing Jerrica a small package wrapped in gold. “Sorry I couldn’t get it to you sooner, but it’s practically impossible to get out of Smallville, Ontario.” Jerrica unwrapped the box to reveal a pair of glowing amethyst earrings. She let out a girly squeal.

“OMG Steph, they’re gorgeous!” She enthused, wrapping the smaller girl in a hug. Steph returned the hug excitedly.

“I’m so glad you like them! I got my sister Heather to help me enchant them.” Stephanie touched her own golden, star shaped studs. “If you hold them like this, I should be able to hear things you say, and vice versa. So like, Mr Gottfried can’t split us up in class any more for talking.” Jerrica giggled as she put on the purple earrings.

“This is gonna be the best year ever!”

Ear worms

28 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Odds and Ends, Stories

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ear worms, music, Story

I woke up humming that tune again today. It’s the 4th day in a row and I still can’t remember the name of that song. Some days I think I remember the words, but not enough to Google. I don’t even know the name, but every night it’s playing in my dreams, like some theme song on a TV show.  It’s driving me crazy, I can’t get it out of my head.

But it’s not that bad.  On my way home from work, there was this cute girl on the bus. I think I fell in love with her a bit, she was reading my favourite book and I just wanted to talk to her, but I couldn’t think up what to say. We were almost at my stop when I realized she was humming the same song that’s been stuck in my head! I asked her what it was called, but she couldn’t remember either. But she gave me her number and said if I remember to call her, maybe.

Oh darn…

A Pokemon Story

26 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Established Universe, Pokemon, Stories

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

part 1, pokemon. fanfic, Story

The mewling from beside the bed dragged me slowly towards consciousness.

“Jewel, be quiet.” I muttered, turning over and burying my head in the pillow. She just meowed louder, scratching at the bed. I shoved my hand out from under the covers to push her away. “Nooo, don’t scratch the bed…” Her soft head butted up against my hand for a few moments before she chomped down, grabbing my hand in her claws. I bolted awake, cursing about never learning when I looked down at her.

“Uh, Frank…” I nudged my husband awake, staring at the black fox-like creature with golden rings in it’s fur, happily chewing on my hand. “Why is Jewel an Umbreon?” My husband stirred awake.

“Because you couldn’t decide what to evolve her into before she evolved herself.” He stretched and started getting dressed. “A Leafeon may have been less evil, you know.”

“No, but…” My protests were cut off when I noticed her lavender sister, perched on the bookshelf and twitching her two tails. “And Katie’s an Espeon?”

“At least she’s not evil.” He replied, getting dressed for work. Jewel had given up eating my hand and was now licking it lovingly.

“Jewel’s not evil, she’s just- OUCH! JEWEL!!” I swatted her away as she resumed biting. “Okay, she’s evil. But… Wait… She’s supposed to be a cat!” Frank just stared at me.

“Shouldn’t you have bought a Meowth if you really wanted a cat pokemon?”

“I… No, that’s not what I meant…” I stared at the Umbreon now attacking my toes as the gears turned in my head. “Hey Sweetie, where do we keep their pokeballs?”

“They’re beside the door, on the bookshelf.” He gave me a goodbye kiss. “Try not to get them too hurt playing in the tall grass.”

Part 2

Poem from the Sicky

26 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Odds and Ends, Poetry, Stories

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dead day, poetry

Today’s been quite shoddy,

You’ve fucked up, dear body,

with nose red and raw,

and eyes dry as straw.

I’d like to think straight,

but instead I just hate,

So get your act together,

before I trade in for another.

Do you think the black market will excuse

That this body is a little used?

‘Murica

24 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Odds and Ends, Stories

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Story

“Good moning, Mr Clinton! There’s some nice men here with latest poll results!” The secretary buzzed over the intercom. Clinton buzzed back.
“Good news or bad news?”
“Zzt- They said a bit of both, sir.” Clinton sighed and poured a bit more vodka into his morning coffee from a well hidden flask.
“Send them in, Monica.” He buzzed back. Monica came in a few seconds later, her brown hair tied back in a loose bun, wearing a tight sweater. His eyes lingered a moment before turning to look at the two men following her, both carrying a tightly rolled poster.

“Hello, Mr President.” The first one began, “We’ve accumulated the latest poll results regarding how satisfied the voters are with their president, and, well, the results are not that good. Would you like to see the graph?” Clinton nodded, sipping his coffee as he watched Monica help them set up the graph. The chart indeed did not look promising.

“Only 22%? That’s terrible!” He enthused, “I’ll have to get my marketing committee on this at once!” He turned to Monica, about to make a request when the second man spoke up.
“Sir, I’m Zach, the newest member of the marketing committee, and we’ve already been working on this problem.” Clinton turned to him.
“Good, what have you got?”
“Well sir, while you’re popular amongst the older crowd, it seems the predominant opinion among the young voters crowd is that, pardon my bluntness, too old and boring. We’ve been looking into what appeals to the young voters demographic, and we think we’ve created the perfect advert to boost your popularity.” The young man smiled at Monica as she helped him unroll his poster.

Clinton frowned slightly, then looked at the poster. It took his breath away.  It was him, only far more handsome, backdropped against the American flag, an automatic gun in each hand with the Statue of Liberty in the war-torn background.  It looked like a movie poster for an up-and-coming action blockbuster.
“I… It’s… Zach, what am I looking at?”

“Exciting, isn’t it?” The young man enthused. “We wanted to establish you as a proper American action hero, fighting for liberty and the American ideal! We also worked in some other things popular with the young crowd, as seen here and here.” He gestured towards the iconic golden arches, broken in the background, and the crocodile crawling at his feet. Clinton nodded, his eyes drawn to the shapely dark haired woman in a short grey dress, clinging to his leg in the poster.

“And who’s that? Why didn’t you include Hillary?” Zach looked a little sheepish.
“Well sir, you see, sex appeal helps generate interest, and Hillary just wasn’t appealing to the young crowd. The marketing committee decided to use someone younger for the advert.”
“I see.” Clinton said, sipping his coffee. “I’ll have to think about this, son. You can go now, I’ll let you know in a bit.” The two men thanked him, and hurried to clear the two posters and leave his office.

As the three left the office, Clinton spoke up again. “Monica, could you hold back a bit? I’d like your help to ah, clean up a bit.”

A Silly Wish

24 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Odds and Ends, Stories

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Creative Writing, genie, Story, wish

“And the winner of this next award goes to… Jeanie!”

Jeanie danced down the aisle to accept the trophy, her golden wings blending with her golden dress

“Thank you! Thank you everyone!” She gushed. The gauzy wings fluttered behind her. They always did when she was excited. “I’d like to thank my mother for this award, for always supporting me, and my father, for giving me my first taste of fame!”

It was the truth, she reflected on the next day, as she placed the award on the mantle on the mantle beside the others. Her father had been the one to call the papers that morning, when his daughter- She was still called Anna back then- had come down the stairs sporting glowing fairy wings. She’d tried to explain about the genie she’d found, and how he’d granted her one wish after she hugged the teddy bear her mom had found at a garage sale last week, but the papers didn’t want to hear the story. She’d found the headlines years later, all suggesting that she might be some super human, or the next evolutionary branch. She kept them all for a time, but eventually they all went into the recycling bin. Except for one. That reporter had taken the time to listen to a little girl’s story about a genie in a bear wishing for fairy wings, and her big dreams to be a dancer/actress/model. That article she had framed, right beside her first award, a small medal from her school play. She’d played Tinkerbell, and she still remembered the gasps in awe from the audience as she fluttered across the stage.

Her mother had been the one to shoo the reporters out of the house, and the scientists that followed them, tutting the whole while about how she would find clothes that fit now. In the end, she ended up being the one to alter most of her clothes, adding snaps and holes down the back to accommodate the wings. She was also her biggest fan, bringing her to all her auditions, and cheering her up when they just weren’t looking for a girl with fairy wings for the part.

But the parts she had gotten had all struck big. It was a curiosity thing at first, she figured. Come see the girl with wings! But her movie had hit it big, an instant cult classic, and the fans followed their new idol to movie after movie. Lucky break, considering how terribly her silly wish could have turned out.

She stepped out on her balcony and looked out at the house her fame had bought. With a smile on her, she spread her wings and took to the sky. Even 20 years later, her morning fly was still her favourite part of the day.

Drums of War #1 – Introductions

21 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Stories, The Drums of War

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Creative Writing, fantasy, part 1, Story, The Drums of War, tropes

The atmosphere was lively at the World’s End Tavern that night, with minstrels playing about the fire and a roaring game of poker around one of the bigger tables. As such, it nearly went unnoticed when a lone stranger came in with their hood held close, letting in the wind and rain that the heavy doors held at bay. With few words, the stranger ordered a mug of ale at the bar, and slunk to an unoccupied booth in the back corner of the tavern.

Near unnoticed, but not completely so. At the bar, Turgis Balborkanon, captain of the Iron Hawks for the kingdom of Kalmar, nudged his bar mate in the ribs. With a jerk of his head, he gestured towards the stranger in the back. The man beside him glanced over, taking in the stranger. As one, they both got up from their stools and headed over toward the back table.

Walking alongside each other, the two men appeared very dissimilar. Turgis’s companion wore plain clothes, no different than many of the men in the tavern, however his golden hair, fair skin and piercing blue eyes marked him as different. He looked to be about 19 years old, with boyish good looks and charm that made many caused many of the barmaids to have small “accidents” when he walked by. On the other hand, the captain had quite the opposite effect on the young barmaids, many of them suddenly became quite interested in where they were walking. He was older, with dark hair, and he had a dark shadow of stubble, which sharply highlighted a small white scar near his the corner of his mouth. It gave him the illusion of a permanent scowl, which didn’t extend up to his bright green eyes. Both men carried themselves with a similar gait, however. The walk of a soldier, used to carrying the weight of armour and weapons, though neither wore those trappings now. The two men sat down across the table from the stranger.

“Hello, good sir, do you mind if we sit with you?” The young man asked, belatedly. The stranger sighed, and pushed back her hood.

“I don’t suppose there’s any stopping you, is there?” She asked, wryly. The woman’s appearance startled the two men. She had deep, grey eyes, and her hair fell over her shoulder in a single, long braid. Her hair appeared to be black, but woven into the braid was a dozen different colours of hair, sometimes braided into smaller braids, other times bound or twisted with coloured threads. Blondes, browns and reds streaked through the braid, with small darts of blue and green threads between them. But more shockingly was the scar burst pattern on her cheek, standing out as bold scars against her pale skin. The marks appeared deliberate, beginning around her left eye where they showed clearly in red and fading to paler scars that continued down the side of her face, shining in the firelight. Beneath her deep green cloak, she wore simple leather armour, with a small hunting knife bound to her belt with a leather strap. The older man chuckled.

“No, probably not. I’d like to introduce myself. I am Turgis Balborkanon, captain of the Iron Hawks for the kingdom of Kalmar, and my companion here is Prince Lucien, sometimes called the Protector of the Light in his father’s kingdom of Avesta. The two of us were hoping you could settle a debate between us.” The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you two not sworn enemies? What has brought you to be drinking buddies at World’s End?” Lucien gave a half shrug.

“It is a neutral zone, after all. The druids strip anyone entering the city of weapons and armour.”

“More of a truce zone, in actual fact. But Lucien and I used to be buddies, before his father decided to raid Anniseburg and kicked off this war.” Turgis sipped his ale while Lucien scowled.

“Perhaps if the people of Anniseburg hadn’t decided to infiltrate the city of Nora and defile their dead with necromancy and witchcraft, my father would not have seen reason to invade Kalmar!” Lucien ranted, “Not to mention the countless “incidents” with “bandits” our merchants and travellers had encountered crossing the Spinetail mountain pass, which was supposed to be protected by the Iron Hawks themselves!” Turgis waved off the boy impatiently.

“At any rate, this is an old debate, and not the one that brings us here. We couldn’t help but notice you seemed to enter under a dark storm cloud than the one brewing outside. We hoped that you might share your tale with us, Miss…?” Turgis trailed off, hoping to coax a name from the strange woman.

“Not a Miss.” The woman replied. “Keita. Keita Tennerose. And I’ll share my tale with you, though it is a long one…”

To Be Continued

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The Blank Page

20 Thursday Mar 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Poetry

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Tags

first post, poem

A first post can be so many thing,

A picture, a poem or song.

A warning sign, or warm hello,

An invite to places we’ll go.

Perhaps a mission statement laid out plain,

Or just a simple test.

Some may dive straight in,

While others test the waters.

Me, I’ll take the cautious route,

And simply say to you,

Hello, and welcome to my writing journal.

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