Gaming Collections and Friends

3 am is often when bad decisions are made.

This morning it led to a completion of a series that I have been trying for, for... ten years now?

I will agree that it may seem irrational and impulsive and like many would frown upon it, but you don't understand!

Well then.

Emotional outburst aside, there are a few things that will forever tie us to pleasant memories and the bonding of our core groups. For me, this series, was that.

Years upon years ago, White Wolf publications set forth into the world their creation known as Exalted. There has since been a second revised (and third I believe) edition and so many supplements that I couldn't keep up. That being said however, the first edition is the game that bound myself to a few friends.

Some may say that rolling dice and making up stories is no way to behave. I scoff at you folks. Unapologetically. There is a creative bond between those that embark on such adventures of heroism and bravery that none can compare to. There are deep emotions, late nights awake scrutinizing character sheets, caffeine fueled bouts of clarity to which the problem is suddenly dissolved and the dragon is no longer so fearsome: these are the chronicles I would like to remember.

In college, I was shy. Painfully so. Reserved didn't begin to cover it. I was often depressed and attempted to hide myself away. I wore outlandish clothing in an effort to become part of a culture that I didn't belong to. I felt so often that I wouldn't fit in that it wasn't worth the effort.

It all changed one day. I walked into my Japanese Civilization class, begrudgingly. The weight of the day had already caught up with me and it was only 8 am. It was towards the end of the semester, and one I was sure would not end well. I opened a notebook and began doodling, manga style drawings filling the pages more than notes ever would. Now, I don't remember all the details, but at the end of class a young man introduced himself to me. He was quiet himself, sort of bookish, but had an incredibly kind voice. I remember he made me smile for the first time in weeks. At some point it was suggested that we hang out, and possibly study for finals together. I agreed. I couldn't remember what my logic was, because it was so outside my normative character. We didn't get much studying done, but I remember playing video games and striking up conversations with the others in his suite, eventually. The question of whether I had played an tabletop RPG (role playing game for those outside the gaming community) came up, and I admittedly, had not. Partially because I believed that no one else had such a profound interest in the world of imagination as I had at this wretched campus, but also partially because I came from a small town, where no one really played anything like that. I had dabbled in online RPGs so... how hard could this be?

Nothing intimidating here folks... Just the rightful rulers of  Creation.

It was incredibly different and it was hard. It was hard on multiple levels. I was 1.) being forced to interact with people after a semester long sabbatical, 2.) was attempting to vocalize my opinions which were often ill formed and tended towards overly excited and overly violent expressions in game, 3.) was making my creative self known to a community other than Livejournal.  It doesn't seem like much in hindsight, but in the moment that culmination of the three, left me unable to properly vocalize anything at many of the sessions besides what was going on in game. It was incredibly frustrating for a young woman who wanted to come off like she'd had it all figured out.

The reality was that I had none of it figured out and was still trying in vain to figure out even the basics. The gentleman who had introduced himself to me in class was patient however. He was kind and I grew to depend on him for social interaction and meaningful conversations. He was the only one that I had been able to trust in a long time.

He became one of my closest friends and thankfully, he still is. As a matter of fact he and the group we played with have for the most part remained my closest friends. This game had somehow bonded me to them. We moved on and experimented with other games. Many of us experimented with many aspects of our lives, but we always had that game and more importantly each other.

So yes, it is just a game and maybe dropping kind of money I did to complete the collection seems irrational.

I just don't care. Within that game is the reason I was able to open up and actually begin the process of finding myself. Within that game is magic, wonder, and the belief that sometimes listening to a friendly voice doesn't lead to terrible things. That game, to me at least represents much more than dice, character sheets, and the pages of too many books to count.

It represents the beginning of me.
 

The Path of Continues On

There are certain experiences that provide you with perspective. Then there are still more that provide you with a wall to crash headlong into and then figure out if you've learned anything yet. No perspective that's immediately discernible. Well, that is unless you count the throbbing headache you've got when it's all said and done. 

There also seems to be a decent amount of irony that comes with life. I know, you're probably thinking 'well no sh*t Sherlock, where are you going with this?' Follow me for a moment. 

Within the last two weeks, I've had some personal revelations and some global tragedies effect my life and the lives of my family members. There is nothing that provides you with more needed perspective than having your security questioned and your life thrown so far off track, you can't see the damned thing anymore.

There was no warning. There were no flashing lights or signals. 

The last two weeks have changed me. I've cried openly, I have believed that there is good in strangers, I couldn't take it anymore, and I carried on. I've lost an amazing friend to unnecessary events. My sense security has been compromised. But I carry on. 

The situations have also taught me a lot about myself as well. My capacity to care, my limitations, and my ability to recover. 

I can breathe again. Maybe not easily just yet, but I did pause in the fresh air and simply appreciate that act. 

I will carry on. 

For those of you that do read me regularly, I will be picking my schedule back up this week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday will be new blogs. I will spend the interim building up my reserves of fiction and getting back to the 'me' that I used to know. 

With hope, 

Jessi

New Beginnings and Old Behaviors

There are moments in my life that I wish I hadn't gone through in order to get to where I am. There are things that I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Then again… Some of those things are things that most people wouldn't think twice about.

I’m not sorry for the people I’ve killed.

I know that’s a bit of a powerful statement, but when you’re an emissary of the gods, its part of the job.

Izri took a moment and smiled, looking down at her journal. It wasn't much but it was a start. She had begun writing at the direction of a few of the priestess’ at the temple. She’d woken here and been brought to the oracle at the temple. The woman that had been appointed to the temple was the only one to know how her exaltation, as it were, had occurred.

~*~

“You require a new name, child.”  The older woman spoke in a tone that didn't leave much room for negotiation. Tired, perhaps a bit wise, but still as compassionate as an individual could muster. Izri nodded and looked around her. Everything was white and gold with silver accents.

“Where am I, if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all, child. You are in the Temple of Iomedae. She has saved you, it appears.” The oracle stood, walking to Izri. She took her hands and traced the symbols on her hands. Izri pulled her hands back and shook her head.

“I don’t remember much about it honestly. I was facing death. Again. And then I was speaking in some… strange language… and now… I’m here.”

“Celestial by the accounts from the Andorian priests.”

“Oh gods… They’re going to be after me…”

“No. The kings guards will be.” A slight smirk emerged on the oracle’s face as she watched Izri.

“I’m glad you've maintained my sense of normal by allowing for accurate sarcasm in the conversation.” Izri rolled her eyes at the statement. She paused looking back at the oracle. “I didn't kill her.”

“I know.”

Izri paused in the walk about the room in front of a statue of Iomedae. The goddess looked cruel. It wasn't her features, perhaps just the stone she had been carved from. Izri smirked at that thought and began to think of the miracle it was that she had been saved, even if it had doomed her in the Kingdom of her birth. Andor would never welcome her home. She starred quietly at the statue, wondering about the ‘why’ of it all.

“Your thoughts cloud your vision, child. You've yet to come to a name.” As the oracle spoke, Izri thought she saw the lips of the statue move into a slight knowing smile. Izri smirked and shook her head.

“No… I have one. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter either…” She turned towards the other oracle and held her hands open, palms facing out. “My name is Mirari.”

“Miracle? Very appropriate child…” The oracle smiled and looked past Mirari to the statue.

~*~

 I have yet to set out on any journeys in the name of my Goddess, however… soon. The priestesses and priests are almost convinced that my ‘ maniacal’ past is behind me. Weird how when you represent a goddess of justice and all things white and right in the world, they frown on stumbling back into the temple right before devotionals drunk and in the arms of … someone not temple approved.

Mirari smirked and put the quill down. She bound the book quietly and tucked the quill into her up-do  She was growing tired of the temple life. Her bones itched to get out and back into the world. Or maybe that was just the clothes.

She stepped outside, the white and gold skirt flowing in the breeze. In the long side slit of the skirt, a knife sat on the oracles thigh, steel glinting in the sun. One of her religious instructors stood, waiting.

“You’re late.”

“No. I’m simply working on a different schedule than you are.”

“Given that it’s my schedule that I follow and set yours by, I’d continue with the prior statement.”

“Rigidity and I don’t get along, unless…” Mirari smirked and glanced downward to the priests groin.

“Don’t be lewd.” The priest flushed and shook his head, opening the scroll.

“Aww but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”  Mirari stuck her tongue out and looked around at the gardens. It was beautiful here. Mundane and beautiful. She imagined a lot of people having religious experiences here.

“Why do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?” The sword knight was frustrated with her antics.

“Because how will you know your limits if no one pushes them? You've chosen religion as your life. It’s a safe, comfortable existence. Nothing has ever been learned from safety. In order to grow, you must be uncomfortable and even hurt once in a while. Religion is supposed to be a journey. And so is life. Take it too seriously and it’ll kill you before you have any fun.” Mirari lounged on the bench, watching the priests face grow sterner. “Besides, I can’t tell if you’re more pissed off with yourself or me at this point. It’s pretty funny.” 

“You’re contemptible. An awful example of all that Iomedae holds dear. Why she chose you is beyond me. I’ve killed people for lesser offenses.”

“And I thought you didn't like me!” Mirari smirked and the sword knight rolled his eyes, beginning to read from the devotional. Her head bowed. The readings did give her a sense of peace and they reminded her that her efforts against the governments she wandered through were not in vain. There was a higher purpose to be served. Besides… a corrupt government, or god should be fearful of it’s followers and people. 

Dwarven Greetings

Sylvie growled, half thinking half wishing that screaming, punching a cardboard box full of packing peanuts and walking away would make her feel better. The truth being that it might but there were way too many cameras watching her. She leaned against the cold gray steel of the backroom shelves and stared out the open bay door. The snow fell softly as the calm, frozen whispers of winter graced the threshold. A shiver ran up her thin frame, prompting her to pull her sweatshirt tighter around herself.  She frowned and thought about all the different ways she could get someone fired as she approached the open door.

“Fucking people don’t even know how to close doors.” She shivered again and reached for the rope to pull down the gate. “This isn't a barn!” She tugged but the rope wouldn't give. “What the…”

“Listen, I told you we took a wrong turn at the last portal.” A light skinned woman walked forward from the open door and pointed on a map to her companion. The man frowned, though it was hard to tell through the mound of facial hair present. He took the map from her, gruffly and looked back out the bay door. Sylvie stood there, jaw hanging open, not entirely sure what to make of what was going on in front of her.

“Are you a dwarf?” She heard the words leave her mouth and then quickly regretted them. The man whirled his frame around. All… five feet of him. His long black hair fell down over his shoulders to his waist, with a beard to match. His bright green eyes glared at her and a slight snarl emerged from his lips as her breathed a reply.

“What else would I be, you daft lass?” His voice was deep and guttural, and more menacing than Slyvie had heard from anyone. The woman stepped between them and looked Sylvie over before smiling softly.

“You’ll have to excuse our companion...”

“She doesn't have to do anything but stand there like a hooked fish with her mouth hanging open, apparently!” The dwarf snapped and looked at the map. “No we’re here. This lass is the one. Let’s just get her and be off. Sylvia Cressfall, you’re now with us.” The dwarf’s snarl didn’t let up, and Sylvie’s eyes widened as he put away the map. He gestured to the woman standing between them and she winced.

“Miss Cressfall. Your hand.” The elven looking woman extended her hand. Sylvie, awestruck; put out hers and was met with the slenderest fingers she’d ever seen. As her eyes closed and consciousness flitted from her body, she focused on the dwarf, hoping for an answer. “Now lift her gently, Baldrik…”

“Gently? If she doesn't get a concussion, will that…”

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on…” Slyvie’s voice faded as her world went black.

New Promises

It's funny that it was almost exactly a year ago that I put this blog aside.

Many things have changed in that year and still, so many are the same.

One thing I can tell you, is that as part of my resolutions, I'm picking this blog back up. I'm also going to be partnering with Kit from Goggles and Lace and a couple other bloggers to bring you an exciting new project. Details TBA.

Starting tonight I'm scheduling in time to write every day in order to meet my personal goal. I want my novel published by the time I turn 30. It's only three years off at this point so II need to get cracking. On top of that  I'm attempting to pump out more short fiction that will be available here. I've let my writing fall to the wayside over the last year, which while awful, has also let me develop a few things on the personal side, fulfilling my life that much more.  Big plans over the next year, not only for this blog but outside it as well. You'll see...

That being said: tonight I'm enacting my resolutions and beginning my journey back towards that words and stories that I have loved so much. Be on the look out for a story before midnight.

Love and letters,
Jessi

Purgatorio-io-io

The door clicked open to a grey room, awash in the less than pleasant feelings of uncertainty and doubt. The winds were fierce but still unable to move anything around them. Stagnation took hold of everything that entered here and held firmly to them without a care as to why they were there. Seraphina took a deep breath and walked forward into the fog. People wandered to and fro not really making any sort of effort to get anywhere. Others remained in one spot watching an invisible television with all the memories of their life playing before them, twisted by time and the unreliable memory of those long gone from the material. Sera looked down at the file in her hand.

“Illiah Skylark” she said softly pulling the first paper aside to reveal a photo of the girl 20 minutes prior to her untimely death. She was pretty in a kind, gentle, unassuming manner. Hopefully this one would be easy to find. Looking up from her paperwork, the cherub frowned.  Most of the souls before her were fading into the background of the realm. Not everyone that was here was necessarily bad or good. Sera pushed a curl aside and looked about once more before taking a step forward. She walked quickly and quietly through the crowds of people, hunters instincts taking over. It was coming back to her more quickly than she had expected. To tell the truth, it had been 50 years since she had done this. She expected that all that time to make a difference in her abilities but, this… this was good. Maybe she wouldn’t return to the material yet. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She stopped and looked towards the horizon. A woman, shorter than most, was walking towards her. She glanced down at the picture in the dossier and nodded.

“Illiah?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Seraphina.”

“Are you hear to bring me to heaven?”

Seraphina shifted uncomfortably. “No… I’m from the soul reassignment bureau. We’re bringing you back to life.” She smiled, hoping that’s all she would want to know right now.

“How long has it been since I died?”

“According to your file, 40 years. “ Sera said sifting through the papers in the file. “Why don’t we head back to the bureau and we’ll begin the process of acclimation to the material and you’ll get to know the persons life you’re stepping into.”

“I’m not being born?” Illiah frowned and sat down on the materializing chair. She looked up towards the newcomer with doubt and fear. She had wanted to go back. The material was a world she could remember fondly. The fear was deep seated from her death. The man that had killed her remained in the forefront of her mind. The material is where he was. 40 years though. Maybe he was dead? She had watched the trial as a ghost, wandering around the court room but he went free. There wasn’t enough evidence to hold him…

It was a cold stereotypical day in the northwest: rainy, cloudy, dark and dismal. The court would assemble in a little over an hour. Illiah paced up and down the streets of in front of Hope Point Court House waiting. ‘I’m dead, I’m dead, they can’t see me. I should get closer. Maybe they’ll have pulled up…’

Illiah ran towards the courthouse just as the frenzy of media coverage got there and began flashing their cameras  at the lawyers and the defendant. She pushed through the crowd easily enough(simply phased through) and saw her husband for the first time in nearly a week. He looked different. She remembered him as caring and, right up to the point where he strangled her. Her hand went to her throat, trying to protect herself from the feeling of suffocation again. The man who had loved her, now looked towards the doors of the court house, failing to hide his satisfaction with the situation. It had been nearly 2 months of trials and deliberations, upon whether or not he was guilty of the strangling death of his beloved wife. He had cried on several occasions in front of the jurors claiming to miss her terribly. Each time he tried, Illiah screamed to no avail. For a brief moment her ghostly wails were strong enough that it sent a chill through the courtroom, causing all assembled to question; for a moment, his sincerity that day. Illiah was sure she was wasting away watching these proceedings. Every day she left the courthouse sure that the next day they would bring in more people to testify against him, yet everyday she was let down by the prosecution’s lack of evidence. It wore away last nerves and today… today she was sure he would be sent to jail or set free.

“All rise” The judge, jury and parties were seated and the jury was sent into deliberations. A little over an hour later, the jurors re-emerged looking solemn. Illiah waited with baited breath for their decision. 

“We the jury find Richard Skylark, innocent on the charges of murder in the first degree.”

            Richard looked at his lawyers and smile, patting one on the back on the way out. He walked past his wife’s ghost, and out the doors into his new found freedom. Illiah would never forget the look on his face. Never.

            Sera looked at Illiah who seemed to be in a trance like state, similar to all the other souls surrounding them at the moment. ‘What is it like group remembrance time or something?’ she thought gathering the strength to try to pull Illiah out of it. Her face had contorted into an angry snarl, and her entire body had tensed up in the chair. Sera was actually scared of pulling her from whatever memory it was that was causing her to be this upset.

            “Umm….. Illiah?” No response. “Illiah…Illiah!” She raised her voice to a sterner tone, taking the girls hand in hers and squeezing.

            “What?” Illiah blinked a few times and shuddered remembering where she was again. It was always hard coming back from the dream like state of remembrance.  She looked about frantically, half expecting to see her husband standing in front of her.


             "I'll kill him."

To a New Year

The New Year is time for many to start again. For once, this actually includes myself.

In years past, my New Years celebrations have been with some great people, mostly close friends and my younger sister. This year was quite a different experience for me. Not in that there weren’t great people there, because there were! Instead of a bunch of adults kvetching and sending out a giggle into the night to break up the conversation, I spent the night with a little girl (I really should say young lady, I’m sure she’d prefer it) who was keen on making herself known as a young intellectual force in a game of Cranium. She’s bright and has a wonderful future ahead of her. I also spent the night with a new love. He and I rang in the New Year with the celebratory midnight kiss. It was a quiet moment that many people talk about. The world seemed to be shut out for a moment. I felt his lips, his arms around me, and the warmth of the moment. It was, one of the most perfect kisses I have had the pleasure of experiencing.  

Mmmmm..... sugar-y

In the season of new beginnings, the romance is not the only thing that will be changing my life. I’m revamping my writing. This year is the year of finishing for my writing. I’ve started three different novels over the course of the last three years, and I am keen on pushing at least one to completion. I need to get it out there, even if it’s just to get rejection letters. I want to be published before I’m 30 and while I know I am still a few years behind that… time isn’t going to slow down and make it easier on me. Time to get to work.

I’m also working on a fun little side project that I’m fairly intent on showing the world as I go. Once I get the first 15 entries done, I’ll be posting a link. For now, the only clue I’ll give you is Letter #1. See the entry and see if you know. If you’re in Inkwell, you know, so no cheating!

Well.

Now that that’s out there… What are your goals for the year? How did you spend your New Years? Did you find a moment of perfection? Please feel free to write a bit and leave it in the comments section.

Cheers,

Jessi