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Pardon me, having a bean moment.
February 7th, 2010
January 25th, 2010
McCormick sobbed.
There was no other word in the English language, nor any language known to man, to describe as accurately the pain he felt. Lament was a close second, followed closely by keen, but no other words could accurately describe the absolute and utter emotional destruction that McCormick felt but sob. He was curled up in his corner, tearing at his hair in small bloody tufts which began to die his hair red and desperately wishing with his little fragment of a soul that Theodore was lieing but he knew the truth. It was right before his eyes.
He saw the bloodstained hands of Theodore, saw the haunted look in his eyes.
He saw the dried blood on Joanne's blade, knowing in his heart she was the one who committed the act.
And through the explosion of pain that was his emotional spectrum erupting at once, Riley McCormick knew a pain far greater than anyone should ever have to go through.
McCormick sobbed.
He thought back to the day they first laid eyes on each other, she the nurse administering his first official police physical after graduation. He remembered her innocent smile, her silky fingers, and her laughter. Oh, it was the laughter of angels, sent from God Himself to reward Riley for all his hard work. After the awkward exchange, they had their first date going to the last drive-in theater in New York. Their marriage ceremony was simple, only family and a few friends. But it was perfect, the photos were fabulous and the way she glided in that silk white dress made McCormick feel like the luckiest man alive.
McCormick sobbed.
He gazed into his wedding ring, remembering all the failed pregnancies. They decided on no children, but it always left him hollow. Riley slapped himself, attempting to wake himself from the horror that laid at his feet. He remembered their first apartment and those first burned homecooked meals they both attempted. He remembered their first joint car, and their honeymoon to London. He gave a strangled sob, remembering their fascination with Disney and their repeated trips to the parks. And here, now infront of him, was the headless body of his wife. She laid laid out, properly cleaned and adorned for burial.
McCormick sobbed.
Theodore, he tried to convince him of who's fault it was. It was the Gentry who made him...it was the Thief of Breathes for playing this game, or Joanne for wielding the knife. It was Rileys...the real ones...fault for simply living. It was anyone but Theodores fault...but McCormick knew better. Theodore was the one who busted open their door...Theodore was the one who inspired the Thief to make his little army and Theodore was the one who promised to make McCormick and Angela safe...Once this other Riley is dead, you can go back to your life son. I just need your talents. Lies...McCormick knew they were hollow words then but it was the only hope he had left...
McCormick sobbed.
He knew what was next...he knew what Theodore and the Thief had ordered him to do. He did not know what to do, or if he could. I'm a desk jockey, the last time I ever fired a gun was in the academy. I'm a loser and a coward...I couldn't even protect my wife...He clutched her cold corpse, keening loudly into her belly as he clutched her hand. "What am I to do Angela...I'm not as strong as you ever were...How can I go on without you in my life..." Curling up next to her body, he wailed till he had no air left in his lungs.
And in the darkness of his soul, in the deepest parts of his mind where not even he knew what dwelled there, McCormick nestled with his heartache and sorrow. He wrapped it around him, clutching it like a lifeline. He shielded his heart and soul in the permafrost of death and loss as he slipped into sleep.
McCormick said one word before he slept, but all the stone-cold hatred ever spewed by the collective mouth of mankind would barely compare to how he would say this last word
"Theodore..."
----------------
Theodore paced the floor, snarling and slamming his fist into any surface that reflected his hideous form. He could hear McCormick keening from here, 3 floors down form the apartment building they had rented out. He didn't want to order it, but the Thief made him. It wasn't his fault...why didn't they understand...
Theodore couldn't bare to look about him these days. McCormick was bad enough, but now that he had...no, the Thief had, ordered the killing he felt things were just going from bad to worse with their relationship. Theodore felt a pang of guilt in his heart for bringing the kid into this mess...but they needed him. He needed him, and he personally went and collected them both...they were his responsibility. Theodore even promised the kid he'd get his wife out alive. He believed it with all his heart when he said it to them both, but as the days became weeks he began to lose doubt. And Angela was kind to him, she helped him through his...fits...
He snarled, stalking around the corner and pushing one of his fetch copies out of the way. These things he hated the most. The Thief wanted an army of Devourers...and here they were. Each one made him sick inside, each a mockery of himself. He had personally killed every one of them...before the Thief harvested their souls. Theodore shuddered as he watched them, forced to watch them eat, to send them out to bring him fruit. They were a constant reminder of the monster he was....of how he could become...
Theodore flat-out avoided Joanne now. She had all to gleefully removed Angela's head, she was singing that creepy bible song while he did it. He didn't even want to risk eating her, he didn't know if whatever insanity she had deep in twisted soul would be transferred or not...but he wasn't taking any chances. She would serve one last use...but he needed to have that crazy bitch killed before she went for him.
Taking a step out into the open air, Theodore took a deep breath, and shivered. He sucked in air, doing his best to keep from crying as he heard McCormick's grief-stricken wails echoing even out here. His hand spazzimed, as he felt a part of his frame consumed just to continue walking. A horrific pain stabbed through his abdomen and Theodore doubled over, clutching his gut in futility. He knew what was to come next, the monster inside, but he fought it with every fiber of his being.
It was a sweet deal, he learned back in Vietnam. He should have died...hell, he did die. But he came back, fresh as new. Several failed death attempts later taught him that he was the man that could never die. At first, this inflated Theodore's ego...he could do whatever he wanted for he could never die. That fueled his own megalomaniacal little trip...and then when he discovered he could make new bodies! Oh, life was very good indeed. But that last death, that last failed death...something broke him. He didn't know, but he remembered what Sable said...Ugarti's fault....that bastard Nick Ugarti's fault.
The same Nick Ugarti who had asked for forgiveness. He could never forgive that man for what he did to him...he could never forgive himself...
Theodore gasped, struggling to suppress his desires...his needs. He remembered this eternal hunger, watching his body actually digest itself. He instinctively knew what to eat...and eat he did. He fattened himself on that first kill, and that's when Theodore discovered he would rtaher die than live this life. Living as a parasite on Changeling society, the eternal desire and hunger...never eating enough...
The Thief promised him final Death, when Rolling Storms was no more. What choice did he have but to listen? But for tonight....tonight his hunger would get the best of him. Tonight his need to feed would override his sense of sanity and morality (what little was left). Tonight he was Theodore Rodgers, monster. And damn if it didn't feel good, no matter how much he screamed NO on the inside.
------------------------
The Tin Man ran through the Hedge, clutching his most precious package close to his chest. Steam jetted out of every joint as he ran, almost a blur down the path as the Shadow Wolves chased him. He could feel their saliva on his metallic back, hear the footpads as they touched down onto the ground and propelled the beast forward, and feel their fangs as the nipped his thighs and feet. They were close, the pack would soon be ontop of him soon. But Tin Man was far to clever.
He sprung up, bringing his huge boot down onto the pack leaders skull. Spinning around, and using his arms to cover his package at his chest, Tin Man summons Metal from the Hedgefloor itself. he sharpens them all with a single thought and propels them forward. They sting into the pack, buying him enough time to spring forward again and dash off into the Hedge. Giving a grinding metallic laugh, he stops by a small stream to rest. He tips back his rhinestone covered cowboy hat and smiles down at his package, gently poking to ensure safety. The small baby laughs, waking from her nap, her tiny hand caught in a tangle of her soft and thin red hair.
-------------------
It wasn't exactly a chessboard. Sure, it had all the similarities to one as in it was vaguely square-like and had black and white tiles. But that's about where they ended, for this was no regular board. On each side were a wide variety of pieces, though none of them represented any chess piece known to any man or woman alive on earth save one.
Sable grinned, extending his arm to the far side of the board. This was a difficult Game, mortals and their free will and all, but he would have it no other way. he had arranged his pieces carefully, having his Lost poked and prodded and allowing the Thief's attacks to push them into the corner. He had lost the Angela piece...but his regain of the Tin Man and The Child was a landslide in his favor for this season. "Your move Counsel, I believe I just put you in Mortal Danger." He cocks a brow, the perfect arch.
An older man, a scholar who looked more like a Vicar from ancient Russia than a grand leader, stroked his scraggly black beard. He sat, piled on his throne of books, and his bony hands tapped the bored as he pondered his next move. The Counsel of Three confided and discussed with himself, speaking to the Thief of Breathes which stood hunched over at his left side. "Well, you are the expert here...and we are the Counsel. What do you recommend? Your last was a disaster..." The Warlord snarls from the right side, the Queen fanning herself and giving a bored sigh from behind the book throne.
The Thief ponders, and reaches forward, pushing the Theodore piece in direct conflict with McCormick. He then triple round-about checked Joanne infront of Durendal and set the chest two levels higher (after creating the upper levels to accommodate his now three dimensional game). He then pitted Monoxide towards Dasia and the image of the castle, sending him towards the chest behind her. The Thief hacked, leaned back on his scythe and giving Sable an odd glance.
Sable laughed, rubbing his hands together. he had set the bait, and the Thief had fallen right for the trap. Just as he knew he would. Taking a sip of his wine (1890's Kenyan, excellent stock though could use a little slowing down) he leans forward and blows life into the pieces, watching them animate and play out the scene in the real world. "You took your gamble Thief...now watch my puppets dance..."
There was no other word in the English language, nor any language known to man, to describe as accurately the pain he felt. Lament was a close second, followed closely by keen, but no other words could accurately describe the absolute and utter emotional destruction that McCormick felt but sob. He was curled up in his corner, tearing at his hair in small bloody tufts which began to die his hair red and desperately wishing with his little fragment of a soul that Theodore was lieing but he knew the truth. It was right before his eyes.
He saw the bloodstained hands of Theodore, saw the haunted look in his eyes.
He saw the dried blood on Joanne's blade, knowing in his heart she was the one who committed the act.
And through the explosion of pain that was his emotional spectrum erupting at once, Riley McCormick knew a pain far greater than anyone should ever have to go through.
McCormick sobbed.
He thought back to the day they first laid eyes on each other, she the nurse administering his first official police physical after graduation. He remembered her innocent smile, her silky fingers, and her laughter. Oh, it was the laughter of angels, sent from God Himself to reward Riley for all his hard work. After the awkward exchange, they had their first date going to the last drive-in theater in New York. Their marriage ceremony was simple, only family and a few friends. But it was perfect, the photos were fabulous and the way she glided in that silk white dress made McCormick feel like the luckiest man alive.
McCormick sobbed.
He gazed into his wedding ring, remembering all the failed pregnancies. They decided on no children, but it always left him hollow. Riley slapped himself, attempting to wake himself from the horror that laid at his feet. He remembered their first apartment and those first burned homecooked meals they both attempted. He remembered their first joint car, and their honeymoon to London. He gave a strangled sob, remembering their fascination with Disney and their repeated trips to the parks. And here, now infront of him, was the headless body of his wife. She laid laid out, properly cleaned and adorned for burial.
McCormick sobbed.
Theodore, he tried to convince him of who's fault it was. It was the Gentry who made him...it was the Thief of Breathes for playing this game, or Joanne for wielding the knife. It was Rileys...the real ones...fault for simply living. It was anyone but Theodores fault...but McCormick knew better. Theodore was the one who busted open their door...Theodore was the one who inspired the Thief to make his little army and Theodore was the one who promised to make McCormick and Angela safe...Once this other Riley is dead, you can go back to your life son. I just need your talents. Lies...McCormick knew they were hollow words then but it was the only hope he had left...
McCormick sobbed.
He knew what was next...he knew what Theodore and the Thief had ordered him to do. He did not know what to do, or if he could. I'm a desk jockey, the last time I ever fired a gun was in the academy. I'm a loser and a coward...I couldn't even protect my wife...He clutched her cold corpse, keening loudly into her belly as he clutched her hand. "What am I to do Angela...I'm not as strong as you ever were...How can I go on without you in my life..." Curling up next to her body, he wailed till he had no air left in his lungs.
And in the darkness of his soul, in the deepest parts of his mind where not even he knew what dwelled there, McCormick nestled with his heartache and sorrow. He wrapped it around him, clutching it like a lifeline. He shielded his heart and soul in the permafrost of death and loss as he slipped into sleep.
McCormick said one word before he slept, but all the stone-cold hatred ever spewed by the collective mouth of mankind would barely compare to how he would say this last word
"Theodore..."
----------------
Theodore paced the floor, snarling and slamming his fist into any surface that reflected his hideous form. He could hear McCormick keening from here, 3 floors down form the apartment building they had rented out. He didn't want to order it, but the Thief made him. It wasn't his fault...why didn't they understand...
Theodore couldn't bare to look about him these days. McCormick was bad enough, but now that he had...no, the Thief had, ordered the killing he felt things were just going from bad to worse with their relationship. Theodore felt a pang of guilt in his heart for bringing the kid into this mess...but they needed him. He needed him, and he personally went and collected them both...they were his responsibility. Theodore even promised the kid he'd get his wife out alive. He believed it with all his heart when he said it to them both, but as the days became weeks he began to lose doubt. And Angela was kind to him, she helped him through his...fits...
He snarled, stalking around the corner and pushing one of his fetch copies out of the way. These things he hated the most. The Thief wanted an army of Devourers...and here they were. Each one made him sick inside, each a mockery of himself. He had personally killed every one of them...before the Thief harvested their souls. Theodore shuddered as he watched them, forced to watch them eat, to send them out to bring him fruit. They were a constant reminder of the monster he was....of how he could become...
Theodore flat-out avoided Joanne now. She had all to gleefully removed Angela's head, she was singing that creepy bible song while he did it. He didn't even want to risk eating her, he didn't know if whatever insanity she had deep in twisted soul would be transferred or not...but he wasn't taking any chances. She would serve one last use...but he needed to have that crazy bitch killed before she went for him.
Taking a step out into the open air, Theodore took a deep breath, and shivered. He sucked in air, doing his best to keep from crying as he heard McCormick's grief-stricken wails echoing even out here. His hand spazzimed, as he felt a part of his frame consumed just to continue walking. A horrific pain stabbed through his abdomen and Theodore doubled over, clutching his gut in futility. He knew what was to come next, the monster inside, but he fought it with every fiber of his being.
It was a sweet deal, he learned back in Vietnam. He should have died...hell, he did die. But he came back, fresh as new. Several failed death attempts later taught him that he was the man that could never die. At first, this inflated Theodore's ego...he could do whatever he wanted for he could never die. That fueled his own megalomaniacal little trip...and then when he discovered he could make new bodies! Oh, life was very good indeed. But that last death, that last failed death...something broke him. He didn't know, but he remembered what Sable said...Ugarti's fault....that bastard Nick Ugarti's fault.
The same Nick Ugarti who had asked for forgiveness. He could never forgive that man for what he did to him...he could never forgive himself...
Theodore gasped, struggling to suppress his desires...his needs. He remembered this eternal hunger, watching his body actually digest itself. He instinctively knew what to eat...and eat he did. He fattened himself on that first kill, and that's when Theodore discovered he would rtaher die than live this life. Living as a parasite on Changeling society, the eternal desire and hunger...never eating enough...
The Thief promised him final Death, when Rolling Storms was no more. What choice did he have but to listen? But for tonight....tonight his hunger would get the best of him. Tonight his need to feed would override his sense of sanity and morality (what little was left). Tonight he was Theodore Rodgers, monster. And damn if it didn't feel good, no matter how much he screamed NO on the inside.
------------------------
The Tin Man ran through the Hedge, clutching his most precious package close to his chest. Steam jetted out of every joint as he ran, almost a blur down the path as the Shadow Wolves chased him. He could feel their saliva on his metallic back, hear the footpads as they touched down onto the ground and propelled the beast forward, and feel their fangs as the nipped his thighs and feet. They were close, the pack would soon be ontop of him soon. But Tin Man was far to clever.
He sprung up, bringing his huge boot down onto the pack leaders skull. Spinning around, and using his arms to cover his package at his chest, Tin Man summons Metal from the Hedgefloor itself. he sharpens them all with a single thought and propels them forward. They sting into the pack, buying him enough time to spring forward again and dash off into the Hedge. Giving a grinding metallic laugh, he stops by a small stream to rest. He tips back his rhinestone covered cowboy hat and smiles down at his package, gently poking to ensure safety. The small baby laughs, waking from her nap, her tiny hand caught in a tangle of her soft and thin red hair.
-------------------
It wasn't exactly a chessboard. Sure, it had all the similarities to one as in it was vaguely square-like and had black and white tiles. But that's about where they ended, for this was no regular board. On each side were a wide variety of pieces, though none of them represented any chess piece known to any man or woman alive on earth save one.
Sable grinned, extending his arm to the far side of the board. This was a difficult Game, mortals and their free will and all, but he would have it no other way. he had arranged his pieces carefully, having his Lost poked and prodded and allowing the Thief's attacks to push them into the corner. He had lost the Angela piece...but his regain of the Tin Man and The Child was a landslide in his favor for this season. "Your move Counsel, I believe I just put you in Mortal Danger." He cocks a brow, the perfect arch.
An older man, a scholar who looked more like a Vicar from ancient Russia than a grand leader, stroked his scraggly black beard. He sat, piled on his throne of books, and his bony hands tapped the bored as he pondered his next move. The Counsel of Three confided and discussed with himself, speaking to the Thief of Breathes which stood hunched over at his left side. "Well, you are the expert here...and we are the Counsel. What do you recommend? Your last was a disaster..." The Warlord snarls from the right side, the Queen fanning herself and giving a bored sigh from behind the book throne.
The Thief ponders, and reaches forward, pushing the Theodore piece in direct conflict with McCormick. He then triple round-about checked Joanne infront of Durendal and set the chest two levels higher (after creating the upper levels to accommodate his now three dimensional game). He then pitted Monoxide towards Dasia and the image of the castle, sending him towards the chest behind her. The Thief hacked, leaned back on his scythe and giving Sable an odd glance.
Sable laughed, rubbing his hands together. he had set the bait, and the Thief had fallen right for the trap. Just as he knew he would. Taking a sip of his wine (1890's Kenyan, excellent stock though could use a little slowing down) he leans forward and blows life into the pieces, watching them animate and play out the scene in the real world. "You took your gamble Thief...now watch my puppets dance..."
January 19th, 2010
Kudos to Sharon for the 5 minute personal chocolate cake!
4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
A small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug (MicroSafe)
Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.
Pour in the milk and oil and mix well..
Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again.
Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts.
The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!
Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
EAT ! (this can serve 2 if you want to feel slightly more virtuous)..
And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world?
Because now we are all only 5 minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!
4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
A small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug (MicroSafe)
Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.
Pour in the milk and oil and mix well..
Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again.
Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts.
The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!
Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
EAT ! (this can serve 2 if you want to feel slightly more virtuous)..
And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world?
Because now we are all only 5 minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!
January 8th, 2010
Wine + Massive crap dump form brain = Good Mood Chris
I was feeling like utter shit yesterday, having spent way to much personal time alone in my head and not having my usual venting boards to calm myself down with. I got that crap out of my head, had a glass o wine to relax and now I feel a million times better :)
HUzzah!
I was feeling like utter shit yesterday, having spent way to much personal time alone in my head and not having my usual venting boards to calm myself down with. I got that crap out of my head, had a glass o wine to relax and now I feel a million times better :)
HUzzah!
January 7th, 2010
Here's a warning:
This is my journal. I will post personal comments on here. I do not care if you read them, but understand these are my personal feelings. This is how I cope and deal with situations where I have waaay too much crap in my head, and I just need to vent it in public so it gets heard by someone.
( NSFW )
This is my journal. I will post personal comments on here. I do not care if you read them, but understand these are my personal feelings. This is how I cope and deal with situations where I have waaay too much crap in my head, and I just need to vent it in public so it gets heard by someone.
( NSFW )
pissed offJanuary 5th, 2010
In this prompt, you’ll be given the first line of a story. Complete the story.
( Where do I go from here...? )
( Where do I go from here...? )
December 25th, 2009
Toil crept along the hallway, tiptoeing down the dark corners and watching for dogs sleeping in corners. That was something he'd have to remember for next year...dogs. The bite mark on his butt was proof enough the plan needed to be refined. Ah well you live and learn, he thinks.
Pulling the handmade dolls and wooden cars and toy costumes from his small sack, he wraps them in the blink of an eye and sets them under the tree with the names of the children he had found in thier rooms. The small shack house was decorated as much as it could, the single mother was still at work this night and had no money for any gifts. Scowling and putting his hands on his hips Toil whistles out the front door, having Anthony whisk him down decorating supplies. Smiling in thanks, Toil moves through the house like a blur. His long fingers touch every corner, stringing lights and replacing the tree with a huge and plump Douglas fir from North Carolina.
Standing back and admiring his work, he gives a soft laugh. A small shuffle and a cough behind him makes him freeze, and he slowly turns to see the young scrawny girl in her 2nd hand pajamas holding her torn doll. "Santa..?" she whispers, rubbing her eyes.
Before she can see, just a moment before her vision clear he hides himself with Mirror to appear as the quintessential image of Santa. Giving a soft ho ho ho, he pulls out a brand new doll for her from the red sack. "Have a very Merry Christmas Susie..." Watching her clutch the doll and cry in joy was enough for him to smile and ho ho ho again, ruffling her hair and quick as a flash disappearing out the door.
----------
The young homeless boy ran down the ally, panicking and slipping in the puddles. His father was drunk, again, and looking for a fight. Sliding on a thin sheen of trash and muck, the young boy falls into a pile of trash and twists his ankle as he hears his father drunkenly pounding after him. "There ya are ya lil bashtard, I'll teasch ya ta run frum me!"
The fat drunken slob stopped up over the young boy. He sneered and finished off the vodka in his bottle, before throwing it down and smashing it on the sidewalk. He reaches down and grabs the boy, picking him up and rearing back his fist. Suddenly a fury of motion appears behind the older man and a snap of bone echos followed by a scream. The boy falls back on his ass, wincing, and cannot believe his eyes.
His fathers left arm, one used to hold the boy for beating, was snapped in half. His eyes were bulging and he appeared to be choking on his tongue, gasping for air and wracked with pain. Behind him, a deathly pale man had his hand wrapped around his throat, the veins on the mans neck seem to be pulsing ad flowing towards the death pale hand. Stringy black hair hangs from his face and looking up from his hoodie he grins wide revealing a mouth missing its two canines. "Go home boy. No problem no more. Merry Christmas. Be good or i kill you too." The man spoke with a thick accent, and there was something so...inhumane about it.
The boy stood and ran, regardless of the pain, as fast as he could till he got home.
--------------------
"Well, things are going pretty well all things considered! I've got two houses now...a big improvement from that little three bedroom place we grew up in eh?" Alfred smiles, sipping from his cup of hot wassail. "Work is going well, the new fiscal year starts up on Monday so you know the accounting business is going to be booming with returns and companies wanting to exploit tax laws. Then there's Guardian business...you know that goes though. Its a rough job, handling things."
Taking a deep sip, Alfred shakes his head and raises his hand quickly. "No, don't say what you're going to say. I know it already, you've said it plenty of times. I have a fellow agent working with me...well..kind of. He's going through the first shocks...you remember how I was when I first heard about the Tenants. I hope he'll come back..."
Closing his eyes and listening, Alfred smiles. "Yeah, I know. I'm a worry wort. And thanks for your confidence, you know how lonely it gets out here. Still no boyfriend in the picture, but you also know how picky I am." Sniffing a bit and rubbing his eyes, he laughs a bit. "Oh, you'll be proud of me! I have my first real friend. She even got me a Christmas resent. I'm...not sure what to get her that means the same, I don't want to give her anything foolish. Ah well..it's only the first day of Christmas."
Alfred finishes his drink and sighs, standing up and dusting off his rear and brushing the snow off his pants. "This was a good visit Mom...thanks again for being so understanding and just listening. Hope they're treating you right here, taking good care of you. I love you, have a very Merry Christmas."
Setting down the bouquet of red roses on the gravestone, Alfred bundles back up in his jacket and shivers against the cold. Smiling and bowing in respect to the gravestone, he turns and head back to his car, getting ready for the long drive back to Florida.
-----------------------
Pulling the handmade dolls and wooden cars and toy costumes from his small sack, he wraps them in the blink of an eye and sets them under the tree with the names of the children he had found in thier rooms. The small shack house was decorated as much as it could, the single mother was still at work this night and had no money for any gifts. Scowling and putting his hands on his hips Toil whistles out the front door, having Anthony whisk him down decorating supplies. Smiling in thanks, Toil moves through the house like a blur. His long fingers touch every corner, stringing lights and replacing the tree with a huge and plump Douglas fir from North Carolina.
Standing back and admiring his work, he gives a soft laugh. A small shuffle and a cough behind him makes him freeze, and he slowly turns to see the young scrawny girl in her 2nd hand pajamas holding her torn doll. "Santa..?" she whispers, rubbing her eyes.
Before she can see, just a moment before her vision clear he hides himself with Mirror to appear as the quintessential image of Santa. Giving a soft ho ho ho, he pulls out a brand new doll for her from the red sack. "Have a very Merry Christmas Susie..." Watching her clutch the doll and cry in joy was enough for him to smile and ho ho ho again, ruffling her hair and quick as a flash disappearing out the door.
----------
The young homeless boy ran down the ally, panicking and slipping in the puddles. His father was drunk, again, and looking for a fight. Sliding on a thin sheen of trash and muck, the young boy falls into a pile of trash and twists his ankle as he hears his father drunkenly pounding after him. "There ya are ya lil bashtard, I'll teasch ya ta run frum me!"
The fat drunken slob stopped up over the young boy. He sneered and finished off the vodka in his bottle, before throwing it down and smashing it on the sidewalk. He reaches down and grabs the boy, picking him up and rearing back his fist. Suddenly a fury of motion appears behind the older man and a snap of bone echos followed by a scream. The boy falls back on his ass, wincing, and cannot believe his eyes.
His fathers left arm, one used to hold the boy for beating, was snapped in half. His eyes were bulging and he appeared to be choking on his tongue, gasping for air and wracked with pain. Behind him, a deathly pale man had his hand wrapped around his throat, the veins on the mans neck seem to be pulsing ad flowing towards the death pale hand. Stringy black hair hangs from his face and looking up from his hoodie he grins wide revealing a mouth missing its two canines. "Go home boy. No problem no more. Merry Christmas. Be good or i kill you too." The man spoke with a thick accent, and there was something so...inhumane about it.
The boy stood and ran, regardless of the pain, as fast as he could till he got home.
--------------------
"Well, things are going pretty well all things considered! I've got two houses now...a big improvement from that little three bedroom place we grew up in eh?" Alfred smiles, sipping from his cup of hot wassail. "Work is going well, the new fiscal year starts up on Monday so you know the accounting business is going to be booming with returns and companies wanting to exploit tax laws. Then there's Guardian business...you know that goes though. Its a rough job, handling things."
Taking a deep sip, Alfred shakes his head and raises his hand quickly. "No, don't say what you're going to say. I know it already, you've said it plenty of times. I have a fellow agent working with me...well..kind of. He's going through the first shocks...you remember how I was when I first heard about the Tenants. I hope he'll come back..."
Closing his eyes and listening, Alfred smiles. "Yeah, I know. I'm a worry wort. And thanks for your confidence, you know how lonely it gets out here. Still no boyfriend in the picture, but you also know how picky I am." Sniffing a bit and rubbing his eyes, he laughs a bit. "Oh, you'll be proud of me! I have my first real friend. She even got me a Christmas resent. I'm...not sure what to get her that means the same, I don't want to give her anything foolish. Ah well..it's only the first day of Christmas."
Alfred finishes his drink and sighs, standing up and dusting off his rear and brushing the snow off his pants. "This was a good visit Mom...thanks again for being so understanding and just listening. Hope they're treating you right here, taking good care of you. I love you, have a very Merry Christmas."
Setting down the bouquet of red roses on the gravestone, Alfred bundles back up in his jacket and shivers against the cold. Smiling and bowing in respect to the gravestone, he turns and head back to his car, getting ready for the long drive back to Florida.
-----------------------
December 12th, 2009
Alfred makes his way home wearily, rubbing his chest where the bullet wounds had been bandaged. He unlocks the triple lock, waves his hand and mutters the runes to turn of the magical lock, and stumbles inside. Dropping his bag full of supplies and various costumes, Alfred looks around his quiet home. The furniture has never been used, nor the kitchen stove turned on. I was ok living like this...once. No, I still am.
Sighing, Alfred slides off his steel toed boots and rubs his feet. He removes the blood slick overshirt, examining how the newest bullet scars would look on his heavily tattooed torso. Turning left and right, he ensures that the scriptures and other important runes are still visible and clear to read, before reaching for his blackberry and call dialing. He tries calling, over and over again, leaving several messages from concerned to carefree. Come on Mortimer....just pick up, please...
"They can never handle the truth..." Alfred mutters under his breath. He shuffles upstairs, peeling off clothing as he makes his way to his inner Sanctum. He grabs a beer from the mini fridge and sits down in a beanbag chair, his eyes unfocused as if his mind wanders. Alfred waves a hand and a small photo album slowly floats down from a bookshelf and lands delicately in his lap. This is who I can never be...Why do I keep reminding myself?
Alfred flips through the photo album, examining the pictures within. Each has been taken by over a hundred private detectives, each paid extra to keep it hush hush. Each photo has a member of the Consillium on it, smiling and laughing and being carefree. Alfred smiles, his eyes rimming red as he see's them all joking and laughing, imagining it is him just outside of the lens making them laugh, or enjoying a milkshake on a rainy day or simply gathering for a peaceful meal together and friends. Alfred flips to the last page and gives a soft sob, gently tracing the outline of him and Gypsy dancing at Fee's wedding. I will never have this...I never can...I cannot be Jinx, I must be Sparkles.
The photo album is flung as hard as it can be, possibly for the 100th time. It hits the large standing mirror and, as if an actor in a well rehearsed play, it shatters on command. The falling shards of glass catch the reflection of the man in the beanbag, his head in his hands as he weeps in rage and sorrow for the life he can never lead.
Sighing, Alfred slides off his steel toed boots and rubs his feet. He removes the blood slick overshirt, examining how the newest bullet scars would look on his heavily tattooed torso. Turning left and right, he ensures that the scriptures and other important runes are still visible and clear to read, before reaching for his blackberry and call dialing. He tries calling, over and over again, leaving several messages from concerned to carefree. Come on Mortimer....just pick up, please...
"They can never handle the truth..." Alfred mutters under his breath. He shuffles upstairs, peeling off clothing as he makes his way to his inner Sanctum. He grabs a beer from the mini fridge and sits down in a beanbag chair, his eyes unfocused as if his mind wanders. Alfred waves a hand and a small photo album slowly floats down from a bookshelf and lands delicately in his lap. This is who I can never be...Why do I keep reminding myself?
Alfred flips through the photo album, examining the pictures within. Each has been taken by over a hundred private detectives, each paid extra to keep it hush hush. Each photo has a member of the Consillium on it, smiling and laughing and being carefree. Alfred smiles, his eyes rimming red as he see's them all joking and laughing, imagining it is him just outside of the lens making them laugh, or enjoying a milkshake on a rainy day or simply gathering for a peaceful meal together and friends. Alfred flips to the last page and gives a soft sob, gently tracing the outline of him and Gypsy dancing at Fee's wedding. I will never have this...I never can...I cannot be Jinx, I must be Sparkles.
The photo album is flung as hard as it can be, possibly for the 100th time. It hits the large standing mirror and, as if an actor in a well rehearsed play, it shatters on command. The falling shards of glass catch the reflection of the man in the beanbag, his head in his hands as he weeps in rage and sorrow for the life he can never lead.
December 6th, 2009
Here it is, my annual Christmas wishlist of DOOOOM! (now with more OOO!) Here is where I provide for friends/Family/Random people who come across this postingz the opportunity to peruse my listing of wants for the upcoming big purchasing day. As you will notice, I attempt to provide a wide spectrum of gifts for people to provide me with, so no one feels bad that they can't get me super awesome expensive thing and can just get me something small and nice :). This year, I am going to actively attempt to organize this list, by arranging things in groupings of what they are!! Enjoy :D
Electronic:
. Xbox 360
. Rockband 2 (Wii) (full set with guitars, drums,etc etc)
. RAM for Computer
. Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (Wii)
. Punch Out!! (Wii)
. Super Mario Galaxy (Wii)
. Wii Fit (Wii)
. Blackberry 8520 Curve for T-Mobile car charger
. Blackberry 8520 Curve for T-Mobile house charger
. Blackberry 8520 Curve for T-Mobile bluetooth headset
. Stereo for 95 Mazda truck
. iPod
. New Laptop
. World of Warcraft Game Cards
. Dragon Age (PC)
. PS2 Remote
. Singstar: With Mic's (PS2)
. Singstar: Queen
. Black Ink for Printer
. Color Ink for Printer
. Printer Paper
. Flash Drive
. Computer speakers
. Mic for computer
. Digital Camera
Books:
. Autumn Nightmares (Changeling)
. Winter Masques (Changeling)
. Lords of Summer (Changeling)
. Rites of Spring (Changeling)
. Grim Fears (Changeling)
. Swords at Dawn (Changeling)
. Adamantine Arrow (Mage)
. Summoners (Mage)
. Magical Traditions (Mage)
. Mage:The Awakening Tarot Deck (Mage)
. Mehket Clanbook (Vampire)
. Circle of the Crone (Vampire)
. Shining Host (Changeling MET)
Furniture:
. Computer desk
. Computer chair
. Bookshelf
. Ceiling fan
. Entertainment System
. Super fluffy pillows
. Couch cover (red or tan)
. Shelves
Clothing:
. Khaki shorts (36 waist)
. Khaki pants (36 waist, 30/32 length)
. White socks
. Black dress socks
. Black dress shoes (8 1/2 to 9, wide if possible)
. Carpenter jeans (36 waist, 30/32 length)
. Blue Lantern shirt (large)
. Blue Lantern hoodie (large)
Random:
. several decks of playing cards
. pens (black)
. Spiral notebooks
. New backpack
. Glitter hairspray
. Christmas tree smell
. Air freshener for car
. Gillete razor blade cartridges
. Plane Ticket to Minnesota
. New Tires for Truck
. New glasses
. New Contacts
. Cash
. Old Spice Deodorant and cologne
. Fishing pole
. Plastic tubs for prop storage
. Wal-Mart gift card
. Lowes Gift Card
. Dennys Gift Card
. Applebee's gift card
. Wallet
. New belt
. Blackberry curve holster
. Rose seeds
. Fertilizer
. Garden gloves
. Windshield wipers
. Glee Season 1 on DvD
. Scrubs seasons 1-7 on DVD
. Orbitz watermelon spring gum
. Stamps
. Envelopes
. AA batteries
. AAA batteries
. C batteries
. RainX for truck windshield
Electronic:
. Xbox 360
. Rockband 2 (Wii) (full set with guitars, drums,etc etc)
. RAM for Computer
. Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (Wii)
. Punch Out!! (Wii)
. Super Mario Galaxy (Wii)
. Wii Fit (Wii)
. Blackberry 8520 Curve for T-Mobile car charger
. Blackberry 8520 Curve for T-Mobile house charger
. Blackberry 8520 Curve for T-Mobile bluetooth headset
. Stereo for 95 Mazda truck
. iPod
. New Laptop
. World of Warcraft Game Cards
. Dragon Age (PC)
. PS2 Remote
. Singstar: With Mic's (PS2)
. Singstar: Queen
. Black Ink for Printer
. Color Ink for Printer
. Printer Paper
. Flash Drive
. Computer speakers
. Mic for computer
. Digital Camera
Books:
. Autumn Nightmares (Changeling)
. Winter Masques (Changeling)
. Lords of Summer (Changeling)
. Rites of Spring (Changeling)
. Grim Fears (Changeling)
. Swords at Dawn (Changeling)
. Adamantine Arrow (Mage)
. Summoners (Mage)
. Magical Traditions (Mage)
. Mage:The Awakening Tarot Deck (Mage)
. Mehket Clanbook (Vampire)
. Circle of the Crone (Vampire)
. Shining Host (Changeling MET)
Furniture:
. Computer desk
. Computer chair
. Bookshelf
. Ceiling fan
. Entertainment System
. Super fluffy pillows
. Couch cover (red or tan)
. Shelves
Clothing:
. Khaki shorts (36 waist)
. Khaki pants (36 waist, 30/32 length)
. White socks
. Black dress socks
. Black dress shoes (8 1/2 to 9, wide if possible)
. Carpenter jeans (36 waist, 30/32 length)
. Blue Lantern shirt (large)
. Blue Lantern hoodie (large)
Random:
. several decks of playing cards
. pens (black)
. Spiral notebooks
. New backpack
. Glitter hairspray
. Christmas tree smell
. Air freshener for car
. Gillete razor blade cartridges
. Plane Ticket to Minnesota
. New Tires for Truck
. New glasses
. New Contacts
. Cash
. Old Spice Deodorant and cologne
. Fishing pole
. Plastic tubs for prop storage
. Wal-Mart gift card
. Lowes Gift Card
. Dennys Gift Card
. Applebee's gift card
. Wallet
. New belt
. Blackberry curve holster
. Rose seeds
. Fertilizer
. Garden gloves
. Windshield wipers
. Glee Season 1 on DvD
. Scrubs seasons 1-7 on DVD
. Orbitz watermelon spring gum
. Stamps
. Envelopes
. AA batteries
. AAA batteries
. C batteries
. RainX for truck windshield
November 30th, 2009
I need:
. Fun
. Good times
. Laughter
. Interesting story
. Drama
. Personal connections
. Tears
. No bloody book of rules
. No whiny bitches
. To Roleplay, not Roll-play or Type-play
. Fun
. Good times
. Laughter
. Interesting story
. Drama
. Personal connections
. Tears
. No bloody book of rules
. No whiny bitches
. To Roleplay, not Roll-play or Type-play
Here are various rants on my current Game life. Feel free to ignore if you have no clue about LARP, NWoD or gaming in general :-p.
Vampire - I've never cared about Vampire, to be honest. It's a venue I only played in to hang out with my friends, then I ended up running it because my friends needed an ST! I have a interesting character concept I guess, but I really don't care to much for it either way. What I'm frustrated at is the lack of inhumanity I see globally in the Game. Far too many superheros with fangs, or centuries old vampires acting like spoiled 16 year olds from the 90's. Where are the fine women and counts, the sophisticated lords of the night, and the inhuman monsters that lurk in the shadows? I just don't get that from most Games. And the plot is either stupidly stupid (quick, random mortal has found out about mortals! Rawr!) or impossible to do anything about (Spirit/VII/Strix oh my!). I'm tempted to just go on a bing killing spree, murdering characters till I become the antagonist I want in the Venue: Intelligent, cunning, powerful but defeatable and outsmartable.
Lost - I've just run into a stumbling block I guess. I see the plot, and I see where its going. But, I felt like something was lacking! It took me a while, but I noticed I was missing the most important elements of the game I loved: Personal drama. So, in order to rectify this I've been working on e-mails and private scenes for people to have personal drama involving their back stories and downtimes. Now I've gotten flack for not giving people enough relax time, or people reacting like its the end of the fucking world and not doing anything with the private e-mails. I'm just...frustrated. I wanna bring more personal story in for people, but I just don't know how.
Mage - Jesus, where do I begin!? I adore Michael Sparkles, but I have NOTHING to do locally! It's because there is nothing to do, because my VST can't seem to get his act together. He doesn't answer DT's, nor e-mails. I can't get any of my Guardian shit done, and there's nothing plotwise to do. We haven't had ANYTHING happen in the local game except for random one night stands of plot when the VST didn't show up for a month and a half and his aVSTs had to step up. I have noting to do with Michael, he's not the run in and save the day type so I end up spending 3 1/2 hours sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. I get no response in DT's, my 30+ XP in merits is useless, I have no personal plot, and no one trusts my PC (due to being a guardian) so I end up either a) having to act like an uncle tom and jerk around and be fake to get to be in social circles or b) get left alone where I sit on the edge of conversation at best. So, I rpoxy around to everywhere I can, but I HATE e-mail roleplay. I want to meet face to face, roleplaying, laughing and crying together...and when I finally DO get fucking local plot that's worth a damn, my proxy lead wants to be a douche and stick it to me.
Feh.
Vampire - I've never cared about Vampire, to be honest. It's a venue I only played in to hang out with my friends, then I ended up running it because my friends needed an ST! I have a interesting character concept I guess, but I really don't care to much for it either way. What I'm frustrated at is the lack of inhumanity I see globally in the Game. Far too many superheros with fangs, or centuries old vampires acting like spoiled 16 year olds from the 90's. Where are the fine women and counts, the sophisticated lords of the night, and the inhuman monsters that lurk in the shadows? I just don't get that from most Games. And the plot is either stupidly stupid (quick, random mortal has found out about mortals! Rawr!) or impossible to do anything about (Spirit/VII/Strix oh my!). I'm tempted to just go on a bing killing spree, murdering characters till I become the antagonist I want in the Venue: Intelligent, cunning, powerful but defeatable and outsmartable.
Lost - I've just run into a stumbling block I guess. I see the plot, and I see where its going. But, I felt like something was lacking! It took me a while, but I noticed I was missing the most important elements of the game I loved: Personal drama. So, in order to rectify this I've been working on e-mails and private scenes for people to have personal drama involving their back stories and downtimes. Now I've gotten flack for not giving people enough relax time, or people reacting like its the end of the fucking world and not doing anything with the private e-mails. I'm just...frustrated. I wanna bring more personal story in for people, but I just don't know how.
Mage - Jesus, where do I begin!? I adore Michael Sparkles, but I have NOTHING to do locally! It's because there is nothing to do, because my VST can't seem to get his act together. He doesn't answer DT's, nor e-mails. I can't get any of my Guardian shit done, and there's nothing plotwise to do. We haven't had ANYTHING happen in the local game except for random one night stands of plot when the VST didn't show up for a month and a half and his aVSTs had to step up. I have noting to do with Michael, he's not the run in and save the day type so I end up spending 3 1/2 hours sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. I get no response in DT's, my 30+ XP in merits is useless, I have no personal plot, and no one trusts my PC (due to being a guardian) so I end up either a) having to act like an uncle tom and jerk around and be fake to get to be in social circles or b) get left alone where I sit on the edge of conversation at best. So, I rpoxy around to everywhere I can, but I HATE e-mail roleplay. I want to meet face to face, roleplaying, laughing and crying together...and when I finally DO get fucking local plot that's worth a damn, my proxy lead wants to be a douche and stick it to me.
Feh.
November 26th, 2009
'Twas the night after Thanksgiving, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The plates were all dirty, the cupboards all bare,
The fridge was all stuffed with leftovers in there;
My son was all nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of tinker toys danced in his head;
And I in my worksuit, scarf and fine hat,
Had just settled down for a vodka nightcap,
When out from the workshop there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away through the Hedgegate I flew like a flash,
Opened the door wide and kicked aside all the trash.
My Hedgebeast was running and jumping to and fro
To signal the completion of my weapons down below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Hedgespun sleigh, and eight steam-powered reindeer,
The weapons were primed and the missiles were quick,
"Well, that will finally do in that bastard St. Nick!
I have cold iron stocked and nitro boosts steady
With my night vision goggles I'll not be caught unready!
Now, Basher! now, Lancer! now, Taser and Mixen!
Now, Kermit! Now Ares! Now, Flamer and Twitchin'!"
I hopped in the sleigh and turned the key hard,
And rose high from my workshop, leaving the ground charred.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the Hedge-top the robo-reindeer flew,
With a sleigh full of high-grade explosives, and rocket or two.
And then, with a roar, I heard in the night
A pack of Briarwolves, their eyes burning bright.
I drew up my reins, and turned myself 'round,
And pointed my weapons at the bastards on the ground.
There were rockets and rifles for hitting long distance,
And napalm and flamethrowers to ignite me some bitches;
I let loose my payload, tinsel sparkling in the sky,
And blew those poor briarwolves high up into the sky.
My eyes -- how they twinkled! My dimples how merry!
My cheeks were a sparklin', and I ate a hedge-berry!
"These weapons may seem abit much, but they just don't know,
How much I would give to see Santa's guts all over the snow;
His horrific reign of terror finally brought to an end,
And children everywhere can celebrate without fear once again!
And when he is gone," as I rub my hands in the napalm light,
"Then I can do his job, much to the childrens delight,
I can make all the best toys like a right jolly young elf."
And I laughed when I thought of it, in spite of myself;
"A dolly for Susan, and a Nerf gun for Fred,
Soon all will know they have nothing to dread!
A Teleporter for Holly, and a new yacht for Bandy,
While Edria gets a new dress that's just dandy!"
And laying my hands on the reigns nice and tight,
And giving a nod, I flew deep into the night;
The Hobs they all stared in wonder and gave whistles,
As I flew high above them, above Briar and Thistles.
And they all heard me exclaim, as I drove out of sight,
"You're time's up fat bastard, and soon it'll be Toil's night!"
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The plates were all dirty, the cupboards all bare,
The fridge was all stuffed with leftovers in there;
My son was all nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of tinker toys danced in his head;
And I in my worksuit, scarf and fine hat,
Had just settled down for a vodka nightcap,
When out from the workshop there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away through the Hedgegate I flew like a flash,
Opened the door wide and kicked aside all the trash.
My Hedgebeast was running and jumping to and fro
To signal the completion of my weapons down below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Hedgespun sleigh, and eight steam-powered reindeer,
The weapons were primed and the missiles were quick,
"Well, that will finally do in that bastard St. Nick!
I have cold iron stocked and nitro boosts steady
With my night vision goggles I'll not be caught unready!
Now, Basher! now, Lancer! now, Taser and Mixen!
Now, Kermit! Now Ares! Now, Flamer and Twitchin'!"
I hopped in the sleigh and turned the key hard,
And rose high from my workshop, leaving the ground charred.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the Hedge-top the robo-reindeer flew,
With a sleigh full of high-grade explosives, and rocket or two.
And then, with a roar, I heard in the night
A pack of Briarwolves, their eyes burning bright.
I drew up my reins, and turned myself 'round,
And pointed my weapons at the bastards on the ground.
There were rockets and rifles for hitting long distance,
And napalm and flamethrowers to ignite me some bitches;
I let loose my payload, tinsel sparkling in the sky,
And blew those poor briarwolves high up into the sky.
My eyes -- how they twinkled! My dimples how merry!
My cheeks were a sparklin', and I ate a hedge-berry!
"These weapons may seem abit much, but they just don't know,
How much I would give to see Santa's guts all over the snow;
His horrific reign of terror finally brought to an end,
And children everywhere can celebrate without fear once again!
And when he is gone," as I rub my hands in the napalm light,
"Then I can do his job, much to the childrens delight,
I can make all the best toys like a right jolly young elf."
And I laughed when I thought of it, in spite of myself;
"A dolly for Susan, and a Nerf gun for Fred,
Soon all will know they have nothing to dread!
A Teleporter for Holly, and a new yacht for Bandy,
While Edria gets a new dress that's just dandy!"
And laying my hands on the reigns nice and tight,
And giving a nod, I flew deep into the night;
The Hobs they all stared in wonder and gave whistles,
As I flew high above them, above Briar and Thistles.
And they all heard me exclaim, as I drove out of sight,
"You're time's up fat bastard, and soon it'll be Toil's night!"
November 22nd, 2009
Last game was interesting for me, I didn't have as much to do yet I had far too much to do.
Pros -
. Torture scene was good RP. Everyone seemed to get something out of it, I was able to hit the hot buttons of several of my players and make them stop and pause everything to consider what I had to say.
. Klutz and JJ were able to handle things well enough for me with clear instructions. No issues, no requiring my attentions.
. Everyone outside of the torture room seemed to enjoy themselves and had good RP. It was apparently rather intense when they were stuck trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with the 3 sleepers to the point that 2 other people started yelling and crying in frustration.
. Blenders with plastic spoons are your friends massive bone breaking. Also, plastic spoon in general are good for bones snapping.
. Props in general were pretty fantastic this time, I hope to do more in the future. I think they help the players bring a touch of realism to the scenes.
. Only had 1 mild panic attack, and that was at the beginning when the chains were a little too tight on the arms of one player!
Cons -
. I should have double-gloved my left hand, the creepy hand sadly broke far earlier than I had hoped it would.
. JJ STILL needs to learn how to mediate combat scenes better, that will save a LOT of time.
. JJ and Klutz need to focus more on some responsibilities. I was waiting a good while for them to tell me the combat was wrapped up so I could keep going, and it had been over for a while before I was told it was done. That wasted time and made me sadly have to speed things up.
. I need to speak up more for audio files! I speak low on recordings and need to speak up to be better heard.
. I needed my voice changer from G for the Gentry voice...but he was at school. Damn you higher education!
. I had to pause too many times in there to try and check up on JJ, or respond to Lana on things and that broke up my flow. I need to figure out a better system for that if I ever wish to try it again.
Things to do for next time -
. I need to cut down on the downtime in Game with mechanics. I rather enjoyed the players just NOT making pulls with me in the back room, and me telling them what they felt. I'm considering down something of what Sanford does next game (though it'll totally be eating up one of my off-days and the girl may get mad...) with taking major events and scenes that I know I have planned, rolling out the challenges ahead of time and handing them to the player son slips of paper or in an envelope.
. Props! They were fantastic in the back room, I need to work on them for more games. Definitely the ritual Games for sure, past that I wanna try and include more and more. They helped me be in character as the villains, and I think it helped the players to be in character as well.
. I'd like to experiment with other locations for Game. Maybe do a Changeling iLarp on Hontoon to represent the Hedge, or go visit a farmers market or other popular street vendor place for an exotic goblin market in town. I think the changes of pace would be a delight to the players.
. Hailey's Fake blood is needed more....because I love how it tastes. And, it does feel like damned close t the real thing. My own experiment with making fake blood this week was either too watery or too thick.
. More people need to pet the ST.
Pros -
. Torture scene was good RP. Everyone seemed to get something out of it, I was able to hit the hot buttons of several of my players and make them stop and pause everything to consider what I had to say.
. Klutz and JJ were able to handle things well enough for me with clear instructions. No issues, no requiring my attentions.
. Everyone outside of the torture room seemed to enjoy themselves and had good RP. It was apparently rather intense when they were stuck trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with the 3 sleepers to the point that 2 other people started yelling and crying in frustration.
. Blenders with plastic spoons are your friends massive bone breaking. Also, plastic spoon in general are good for bones snapping.
. Props in general were pretty fantastic this time, I hope to do more in the future. I think they help the players bring a touch of realism to the scenes.
. Only had 1 mild panic attack, and that was at the beginning when the chains were a little too tight on the arms of one player!
Cons -
. I should have double-gloved my left hand, the creepy hand sadly broke far earlier than I had hoped it would.
. JJ STILL needs to learn how to mediate combat scenes better, that will save a LOT of time.
. JJ and Klutz need to focus more on some responsibilities. I was waiting a good while for them to tell me the combat was wrapped up so I could keep going, and it had been over for a while before I was told it was done. That wasted time and made me sadly have to speed things up.
. I need to speak up more for audio files! I speak low on recordings and need to speak up to be better heard.
. I needed my voice changer from G for the Gentry voice...but he was at school. Damn you higher education!
. I had to pause too many times in there to try and check up on JJ, or respond to Lana on things and that broke up my flow. I need to figure out a better system for that if I ever wish to try it again.
Things to do for next time -
. I need to cut down on the downtime in Game with mechanics. I rather enjoyed the players just NOT making pulls with me in the back room, and me telling them what they felt. I'm considering down something of what Sanford does next game (though it'll totally be eating up one of my off-days and the girl may get mad...) with taking major events and scenes that I know I have planned, rolling out the challenges ahead of time and handing them to the player son slips of paper or in an envelope.
. Props! They were fantastic in the back room, I need to work on them for more games. Definitely the ritual Games for sure, past that I wanna try and include more and more. They helped me be in character as the villains, and I think it helped the players to be in character as well.
. I'd like to experiment with other locations for Game. Maybe do a Changeling iLarp on Hontoon to represent the Hedge, or go visit a farmers market or other popular street vendor place for an exotic goblin market in town. I think the changes of pace would be a delight to the players.
. Hailey's Fake blood is needed more....because I love how it tastes. And, it does feel like damned close t the real thing. My own experiment with making fake blood this week was either too watery or too thick.
. More people need to pet the ST.
November 20th, 2009
Anson the Elder,
Good evening sir! I hope you're doing well!!
I hope you don't mind me interrupting, but I just saw one of the most interesting comments I've EVER had the pleasure of viewing on this most splendid and sacred of internet forums. The moment I read this, I knew without a doubt that my valuable and highly important opinion was needed right away! I'm so thankful the my Google filter for the words "Guardian", "Gay", and "Secrets" seems to be working so well and bring this to my attention. It's not as if I wasn't enjoying the company of two fine Nubian gentleman I purchased for the evening. Oh no.
"Also, I think the Guardians are gay."
Those are your words, arn't they Anson the Elder? I mean, I'd hate to think that e-mails are rewriting themselves as they're sent. I would then assume you've had the personal pleasure of being on the receiving end of all the Guardians personal "Mind Probes" in the world eh? I know for sure that your delicate and lily white rear has yet to graze my masculine and throbbing "Mind Scanner" as of yet so I would doubt you have personal experience with the fact that EVERY Guardian is Gay. I mean, I have been known to sleep with four or five men at one time sure, but not all of them are Guardians (quite a number of Silver Ladder and Free Council though. I'm happy to provide a common staff they can grasp in unison!) and certainly I would HOPE that everyone does not view me as THE Representative for my Order. I do have fantastic head shots though...they'd go great on the extended size bumper stickers.
I guess we could do magnets for my face as well, not everyone recognizes me by my specialty scanner :).
At any rate Breeder, I think some of my Order may take offense in being bunched up with other Vaginally-challenged individuals as such as myself. I Mean, I'd HATE to be confused for a chainsaw wielded retarded drunk Monkey (Free Council) or one of those geeky kids we stuffed in lockers in high school or made to eat their own fecal matter in the bathroom (Mysterium) or how about those lame football jocks who spent time with all the other lame jocks bashing beer cans into their foreheads and preforming stupid "guy" tricks involving cars and baseball bats in the crotch (Adamantine Arrow...though I do enjoy shower time! Call me up next training day Payday, pretty please! I'll being the lotion!) or those silly scene kids who consider themselves straight edge and try to force you into their crazy Jesus H. Christ Baptists cults involving singing and denial of the wonders of sex (Hello Silver Ladder!) or my worst of all: A filthy reproducing leech on society Breeder.
Now, I'm POSITIVE that you didn't mean that in a negative stereo type manner. I mean I'd hate to be spreading any horrid rumors and nasty racial and sexual slurs around, wouldn't you? You wouldn't want to be considered intolerant in this day and age? I mean, using racial slurs was SOO 1960's baby, and sexual slurs went out in 2004! Everyone in the fashion world knows this, so I'm SURE as a Fabulous and Fantastic individual as yourself knows that simply calling someone gay in this day and age betrays a hint of childish behavior not seen since...well, High school!
Now, if you're going to be insulting you should do it equally. You shouldn't pick on someone simply because you have a profiled hatred of them. If that were the case, I'd be branding all women who have a period with a big scarlet B on their vest so I can identify who NOT to associate with 5 days out of the month!!
Now that I've officially insulted everyone I can possibly think of, can we all simply go about our business and forget this awe-fullness? I mean, no one on here is really CHILDISH and IMMATURE enough to keep a silly discussion like this going when it simply degrading to name calling, sexual and racial smears, and insulting of personal orders. Gonna call my friend (and cabalmate) The One-Man Brigade a porch monkey? For shame...
If I failed at insulting anyone here (because I want to make sure I was equally insulting and rude to everyone! I'd hate to be considered a bigot after all) please let me know and you to can have your own personalized insult handcrafted by yours truly.
Good Evening y'all.
- Michael Sparkles
Guardian of the Veil
Acanthus
Totally not a Breeder.
Good evening sir! I hope you're doing well!!
I hope you don't mind me interrupting, but I just saw one of the most interesting comments I've EVER had the pleasure of viewing on this most splendid and sacred of internet forums. The moment I read this, I knew without a doubt that my valuable and highly important opinion was needed right away! I'm so thankful the my Google filter for the words "Guardian", "Gay", and "Secrets" seems to be working so well and bring this to my attention. It's not as if I wasn't enjoying the company of two fine Nubian gentleman I purchased for the evening. Oh no.
"Also, I think the Guardians are gay."
Those are your words, arn't they Anson the Elder? I mean, I'd hate to think that e-mails are rewriting themselves as they're sent. I would then assume you've had the personal pleasure of being on the receiving end of all the Guardians personal "Mind Probes" in the world eh? I know for sure that your delicate and lily white rear has yet to graze my masculine and throbbing "Mind Scanner" as of yet so I would doubt you have personal experience with the fact that EVERY Guardian is Gay. I mean, I have been known to sleep with four or five men at one time sure, but not all of them are Guardians (quite a number of Silver Ladder and Free Council though. I'm happy to provide a common staff they can grasp in unison!) and certainly I would HOPE that everyone does not view me as THE Representative for my Order. I do have fantastic head shots though...they'd go great on the extended size bumper stickers.
I guess we could do magnets for my face as well, not everyone recognizes me by my specialty scanner :).
At any rate Breeder, I think some of my Order may take offense in being bunched up with other Vaginally-challenged individuals as such as myself. I Mean, I'd HATE to be confused for a chainsaw wielded retarded drunk Monkey (Free Council) or one of those geeky kids we stuffed in lockers in high school or made to eat their own fecal matter in the bathroom (Mysterium) or how about those lame football jocks who spent time with all the other lame jocks bashing beer cans into their foreheads and preforming stupid "guy" tricks involving cars and baseball bats in the crotch (Adamantine Arrow...though I do enjoy shower time! Call me up next training day Payday, pretty please! I'll being the lotion!) or those silly scene kids who consider themselves straight edge and try to force you into their crazy Jesus H. Christ Baptists cults involving singing and denial of the wonders of sex (Hello Silver Ladder!) or my worst of all: A filthy reproducing leech on society Breeder.
Now, I'm POSITIVE that you didn't mean that in a negative stereo type manner. I mean I'd hate to be spreading any horrid rumors and nasty racial and sexual slurs around, wouldn't you? You wouldn't want to be considered intolerant in this day and age? I mean, using racial slurs was SOO 1960's baby, and sexual slurs went out in 2004! Everyone in the fashion world knows this, so I'm SURE as a Fabulous and Fantastic individual as yourself knows that simply calling someone gay in this day and age betrays a hint of childish behavior not seen since...well, High school!
Now, if you're going to be insulting you should do it equally. You shouldn't pick on someone simply because you have a profiled hatred of them. If that were the case, I'd be branding all women who have a period with a big scarlet B on their vest so I can identify who NOT to associate with 5 days out of the month!!
Now that I've officially insulted everyone I can possibly think of, can we all simply go about our business and forget this awe-fullness? I mean, no one on here is really CHILDISH and IMMATURE enough to keep a silly discussion like this going when it simply degrading to name calling, sexual and racial smears, and insulting of personal orders. Gonna call my friend (and cabalmate) The One-Man Brigade a porch monkey? For shame...
If I failed at insulting anyone here (because I want to make sure I was equally insulting and rude to everyone! I'd hate to be considered a bigot after all) please let me know and you to can have your own personalized insult handcrafted by yours truly.
Good Evening y'all.
- Michael Sparkles
Guardian of the Veil
Acanthus
Totally not a Breeder.
November 19th, 2009
If anyone from O-Town is free and able tonight to help me with making transcripts from some audio recordings, I'd greatly appreciate it.
- Chris
- Chris
November 15th, 2009
OOC: The following is a IC post I feel rather inspired to write. This is from the perspective of my Mage: the Awakening PC named Paladin. None of this is real, fair warning to the mundanes you read this!
Paladin sits up, screaming. It's the first time in many years, the drug abuse years and the following de-tox time was the last he could remember. He threw up his sheet, panting and sweating, and running his hands threw his hair. He looks at his clock on the left, looks to his cross above his door near the foot of his twin bed and finally at the full and unopened jar of Jack Daniels on his nightstand on his left. Growling, Paladin punches the bottle with all the pent up aggression he can muster and shatters it. He winces as he feels the shards of glass break his skin and he watches as the blood starts to flow.
Quiet at first, the sound of Paladins fathers footsteps can be heard running down the hall, then a soft chuckle as he realizes he's still alive. By the time his father manages to run into the room, he's roaring in laughter at the sight of his bleeding hand and whole knees and simply reveling at the signs of life. Paladin lets his father clean his wounds, listens to the chiding while his mind wanders to the dream again...
- - -
Paladin should be dead. He was fading, but Noels voice kept pulling him out. "Your not going to die today Paladin, not today!" Noel kept chanting that, as if it was a lifeline and perhaps it was. The sound of the hordes of undead could be heard echoing down the valley and up the path, all his guns were out of ammo, he lost oen sword and broke another.
OK Paladin, mental checklist. You haven't had your medication in two days. You were injured on Friday night but hid it. That injury led to an infection due to you decreased immune system, and now you have the flu with a minimal white blood cell count and no meds. Numerous cuts and bruises, torn abdominal muscles would explain why it hurts to breathe. That blood in your mouth is from two missing teeth and a broken jaw, your vision on your right side is blurry from your eye being clawed out almost and that numb feeling bellow your knees means that your knees are shattered. Blood loss is over half of totals...why the fuck am I not dead yet!?
Paladin was barely conscious as he was bodily carried back to camp. fading in and out, constantly hearing Noel ("Your not dead yet!") or Mort ("Oh my God, it ripped out my rib from the inside!!") speak gave him something to focus on, to listen to. To hope for. He had to be active for something, there had to be some reason he was still alive. Every heart beat was because he NEEDED to beat, every rattled breath was required because he HAD to.
God needs me. God won't let me fail.
Paladin didn't remember being in triage. He's told he spoke, he's told he screamed and cried out in pain. All he can remember is hearing about Moria. "She's going to miscarry...there's nothing we can do for her." That's what Cloud said. Cloud was so sure nothing could be medically done for her, getting hit in the stomach with a tree going 50 mph will do that of course. But, the key word was medically. Paladin sits up, he can feel he has nothing left yet there is something he must do.
God needs me. God won't let me fail.
Paladin drug his dieing shell into the side room Moria had been given for privacy. She was crying, and in pain. The masters of Life are angry, they could fix this if they only had their Arcana. The masters of Fate are somber, they can do nothing to prevent this turn of events from occurring. The faithful are praying, but even Gypsy seems to be having a crisis in the face of such a horrific event. Paladin shivers, he could feel his body heat fading, could feel his heart struggling but yet he knew he was needed. He asks Moria if she wants him to stop fighting, she says no.
Moria needs me. She will not let me fail.
Paladin writes to Cloud, using a scrap of the bible. He lists he needs his rosary, his vial of holy water and fresh fertile soil. He pulls out the candle from his vest, clumsily making a small tripod from the rosary and sticks, lighting the flame itself with a chapter from Genesis. And God said, let there be Light. And it was good. He pours the dirt out on the floor, drawing the sacred symbols. He blesses them with holy water, blesses Moria, blesses the baby and blesses himself. And he prays. God, do not let me fail Moria or her child. Do not let me fail You, do not let me disturb the divine will. Send me your servant, Gabriel, the divine protector and messenger. Please...
Everyone felt the rush of air from the room. Everyone saw the door quickly slam shut, the lights die except for the single flame burning. Paladin senses the presence of the Divine Will, as the blinding flash sears the vision of everyone in the room. There is no question that something is here with them, and yet no one dares move or breath. For just a brief moment, Paladin feels the touch on his cheek as the Light pressing against his injured skin. With that single touch, he understood the question before him. Gabriel would save me, if I asked. Cured...saved. My body whole, uninjured and at peek. All I have to do is ask. His eyes are wet as he shuts them, he understands his choice. It's one he's made so many times over, but it's never been so apparent as it was right now. He exhales, a tear running down his cheek as he feels himself falling back.
I need me. Do not let me fail.
The Light rushes, and darkness swallows the room once more before the lights flicker on. Moria is fine, but Paladin slips back into the darkness. He awakens sporadically. He can barely focus, his vision is blurred. He remembers Cloud and Ace carrying him back to his cabin, and laying him in bed. Paladin could feel his heart slowing, he felt so very cold. It hurt to breathe, each breath was gurgling with blood. But he didn't fail. He wouldn't let himself fail.
He takes one last breathe, and feels his heart give out.
- - -
Paladin was crying softly, his father holding him and attempting to comfort him. He could never explain to his father why he was upset, or what was bothering him. But, that gentle touch was comforting. It helped him focus, to remember.
I will not fail, not then, not now, not ever. I will not let myself fail.
Paladin sits up, screaming. It's the first time in many years, the drug abuse years and the following de-tox time was the last he could remember. He threw up his sheet, panting and sweating, and running his hands threw his hair. He looks at his clock on the left, looks to his cross above his door near the foot of his twin bed and finally at the full and unopened jar of Jack Daniels on his nightstand on his left. Growling, Paladin punches the bottle with all the pent up aggression he can muster and shatters it. He winces as he feels the shards of glass break his skin and he watches as the blood starts to flow.
Quiet at first, the sound of Paladins fathers footsteps can be heard running down the hall, then a soft chuckle as he realizes he's still alive. By the time his father manages to run into the room, he's roaring in laughter at the sight of his bleeding hand and whole knees and simply reveling at the signs of life. Paladin lets his father clean his wounds, listens to the chiding while his mind wanders to the dream again...
- - -
Paladin should be dead. He was fading, but Noels voice kept pulling him out. "Your not going to die today Paladin, not today!" Noel kept chanting that, as if it was a lifeline and perhaps it was. The sound of the hordes of undead could be heard echoing down the valley and up the path, all his guns were out of ammo, he lost oen sword and broke another.
OK Paladin, mental checklist. You haven't had your medication in two days. You were injured on Friday night but hid it. That injury led to an infection due to you decreased immune system, and now you have the flu with a minimal white blood cell count and no meds. Numerous cuts and bruises, torn abdominal muscles would explain why it hurts to breathe. That blood in your mouth is from two missing teeth and a broken jaw, your vision on your right side is blurry from your eye being clawed out almost and that numb feeling bellow your knees means that your knees are shattered. Blood loss is over half of totals...why the fuck am I not dead yet!?
Paladin was barely conscious as he was bodily carried back to camp. fading in and out, constantly hearing Noel ("Your not dead yet!") or Mort ("Oh my God, it ripped out my rib from the inside!!") speak gave him something to focus on, to listen to. To hope for. He had to be active for something, there had to be some reason he was still alive. Every heart beat was because he NEEDED to beat, every rattled breath was required because he HAD to.
God needs me. God won't let me fail.
Paladin didn't remember being in triage. He's told he spoke, he's told he screamed and cried out in pain. All he can remember is hearing about Moria. "She's going to miscarry...there's nothing we can do for her." That's what Cloud said. Cloud was so sure nothing could be medically done for her, getting hit in the stomach with a tree going 50 mph will do that of course. But, the key word was medically. Paladin sits up, he can feel he has nothing left yet there is something he must do.
God needs me. God won't let me fail.
Paladin drug his dieing shell into the side room Moria had been given for privacy. She was crying, and in pain. The masters of Life are angry, they could fix this if they only had their Arcana. The masters of Fate are somber, they can do nothing to prevent this turn of events from occurring. The faithful are praying, but even Gypsy seems to be having a crisis in the face of such a horrific event. Paladin shivers, he could feel his body heat fading, could feel his heart struggling but yet he knew he was needed. He asks Moria if she wants him to stop fighting, she says no.
Moria needs me. She will not let me fail.
Paladin writes to Cloud, using a scrap of the bible. He lists he needs his rosary, his vial of holy water and fresh fertile soil. He pulls out the candle from his vest, clumsily making a small tripod from the rosary and sticks, lighting the flame itself with a chapter from Genesis. And God said, let there be Light. And it was good. He pours the dirt out on the floor, drawing the sacred symbols. He blesses them with holy water, blesses Moria, blesses the baby and blesses himself. And he prays. God, do not let me fail Moria or her child. Do not let me fail You, do not let me disturb the divine will. Send me your servant, Gabriel, the divine protector and messenger. Please...
Everyone felt the rush of air from the room. Everyone saw the door quickly slam shut, the lights die except for the single flame burning. Paladin senses the presence of the Divine Will, as the blinding flash sears the vision of everyone in the room. There is no question that something is here with them, and yet no one dares move or breath. For just a brief moment, Paladin feels the touch on his cheek as the Light pressing against his injured skin. With that single touch, he understood the question before him. Gabriel would save me, if I asked. Cured...saved. My body whole, uninjured and at peek. All I have to do is ask. His eyes are wet as he shuts them, he understands his choice. It's one he's made so many times over, but it's never been so apparent as it was right now. He exhales, a tear running down his cheek as he feels himself falling back.
I need me. Do not let me fail.
The Light rushes, and darkness swallows the room once more before the lights flicker on. Moria is fine, but Paladin slips back into the darkness. He awakens sporadically. He can barely focus, his vision is blurred. He remembers Cloud and Ace carrying him back to his cabin, and laying him in bed. Paladin could feel his heart slowing, he felt so very cold. It hurt to breathe, each breath was gurgling with blood. But he didn't fail. He wouldn't let himself fail.
He takes one last breathe, and feels his heart give out.
- - -
Paladin was crying softly, his father holding him and attempting to comfort him. He could never explain to his father why he was upset, or what was bothering him. But, that gentle touch was comforting. It helped him focus, to remember.
I will not fail, not then, not now, not ever. I will not let myself fail.
October 26th, 2009
http://wiki.white-wolf.com/camwiki/inde
Here's my favorite quote!
That fireball came out of who???"
~ exclamation of a Changeling in Denver after Nomad used Celestial Fire to attack a Strix.
Here's my favorite quote!
That fireball came out of who???"
~ exclamation of a Changeling in Denver after Nomad used Celestial Fire to attack a Strix.
October 12th, 2009
This is simply because I still feel like a big horrible jerk-face:
Haley, I am sorry for my comment on your LJ. I was in a horrid mood and hungover and dealing with retarded e-mails all morning about crap. I took it completely out of context, and was a complete stupid snarky jerkface to you about something. And even if it was about me, that was an absolutely horrid way to respond to you; immature and rude. It was uncalled for and you didn't deserve it.
Haley, I am sorry for my comment on your LJ. I was in a horrid mood and hungover and dealing with retarded e-mails all morning about crap. I took it completely out of context, and was a complete stupid snarky jerkface to you about something. And even if it was about me, that was an absolutely horrid way to respond to you; immature and rude. It was uncalled for and you didn't deserve it.
September 30th, 2009
So, I'm tossing around the idea of a new Mage PC.
I love Michael Sparkles, don't get me wrong. But...there's just nothing to keep me tied to the PC right now. There's no Global Order Roleplay (it's either stifled on the lists or brushed aside through e-mails), there's no City Order Roleplay (as I am the only one), and I have no DT support from my VST. I can't be a spymaster...with nothing to be told to spy about. I kinda feel like I've wasted 30 + points in Retainers/Contacts/Allies, and I should have just bought magic.
So, I'm tossing around the idea of an Obrimos Good Guy. When I say good guy, I mean total good guy. No shady dealings. NO ulterior motives, no real mean side. Like...like a Paladin. Ya know, I think I;d call him that; Paladin is a good name:). Now, not to say he won't have his faults and issues, those are what make stories. But...he's a good guy who's willing to sacrifice him for others, defend the defenseless, yada yada.
I'm considering the The Choir of Hashmallim Legacy, it seems to work really well with the whole Warrior of God archetype.
So yeah...thoughts?
I love Michael Sparkles, don't get me wrong. But...there's just nothing to keep me tied to the PC right now. There's no Global Order Roleplay (it's either stifled on the lists or brushed aside through e-mails), there's no City Order Roleplay (as I am the only one), and I have no DT support from my VST. I can't be a spymaster...with nothing to be told to spy about. I kinda feel like I've wasted 30 + points in Retainers/Contacts/Allies, and I should have just bought magic.
So, I'm tossing around the idea of an Obrimos Good Guy. When I say good guy, I mean total good guy. No shady dealings. NO ulterior motives, no real mean side. Like...like a Paladin. Ya know, I think I;d call him that; Paladin is a good name:). Now, not to say he won't have his faults and issues, those are what make stories. But...he's a good guy who's willing to sacrifice him for others, defend the defenseless, yada yada.
I'm considering the The Choir of Hashmallim Legacy, it seems to work really well with the whole Warrior of God archetype.
So yeah...thoughts?