The Aurora Effect

“The truth is, there are many with your abilities. You are not special. You are not unique. As a matter of fact I can call up a map to point out each of your faction and wipe them out just as easily as I drink a cup of your atrocious tea.” My smile felt venomous as I spoke. It would do. No one from the Dragon Blooded factions needed to know that soon I would be aiding in their rebuilding. Especially as it stood. I was chained, ankles and wrists to a giant X in the town square in Yane. My tattoos showed in the square betraying my allegiance.

“If it were indeed so easy Miss, I believe you would have already. As for my tea, I believe you would have done well to drink it and not throw it in my face. Your kind is rare… We could have used you.” His sword graced my neck with a presence that –almost- felt threatening. I’d seen this all unfold. This wasn't my biggest concern presently.

I turned my head and looked to the east, eyes flashing as I did. The Dragon Blooded general looked with me and saw exactly what I did. A dragon king. They were primordial in every sense of the word. Or so he believed. The reality was much worse for him.

“Who is this?” The Dragon King boomed taking over the air space with a heavily accented tone. It stole all the air from the area and left the general speechless and paler. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head as he grasped for the strength of character to answer one of the sacred ones.

“A Sidereal, master.”

“Release”

His command was coarse but to the point. I blinked and let my vision come back to the present as the dragon blooded scrambled to his feet and let the chains loose, leaving me to fall. And fall I did, about three feet to the sandstone square. The dragon king smirked and walked over, letting a soft whisper over his lips.

“If I’m discovered, you will be the first to die, young one.”

I smirked and forced myself up. My muscles had started to deteriorate over the days stuck there, wobbly was the best I could manage. My wit however, remained as sharp as ever.

“You should fear me Young General. Your elders come to my rescue. They are more powerful –“ I was slapped, sending me for a brief ride through the air.

“And you should have respect for those you will serve.” The Dragon King frowned and gestured towards the horizon. I stood, wavering in my steps, attempting to wipe the blood from my mouth. The General laughed heartily as he watched his master walk away.  A savage roar filled the horizon as the dragon and I disappeared into the sunset.

“Was that really necessary, you beast?” I growled, my own investigation now back at the fore front of my consciousness. The Dragon King’s façade melted into that of a wily man, heavily tattooed in the tradition of the Lunars. His smirk play across his features as he remained silent.

“Brin… you are a treacherous ally. Luckily I haven’t figured out how to kill you… Just yet.” 

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.
 

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. 

On the Road Again: A Zombie Tale

It was that moment in the afternoon where the sun wasn't quite beginning its descent but the sky had begun to change colors in preparation. For two patrons at the Silver Whistle it didn't matter. The pair sat at the mahogany bar watching the news with half-hearted interest. They both looked tired and the bartender didn't seem to care that the bar wasn't open for another two hours. He stepped forward and poured amber liquor into the glasses and refilled the remaining of the glass with a dark carbonated beverage. The woman pushed some money forward and the bartender just shook his head pushing it back.

"Thanks sweetie. I can use this."

"We all can." the bartender took the girls smile as payment and the gentleman sitting next to her smirked.

"You always do what you want, huh?" His deep brown eyes danced as he began to read his compatriots’. The woman smirked and shook her head.

"Nah... Not always." She ran a hand over her smoothed down ponytail and pulled the elastic out, letting loose her lengthy brown hair. She ruffled her hair quickly and seemed to try to ease the tension in her body. "Be a dear?" She held her hair to the side and turned so her back was towards her friend. He chuckled, took a swig of his poison and began to rub her shoulders. The bartender chuckled quietly to himself noting the sense of comfort the two had with each other. Her face relaxed momentarily. She let out a deep breath and began to understand why all these years that he had loved getting massages.

"How are things at home?" The gentleman asked quietly as he worked on her shoulders.

"What home?" She frowned and all the frustration returned to her face. She reached over to the bar and grabbed her drink, tilting her head back to down it.

"Shit..."

"Dead. Came home to find Mom, Dad, and Evey turned." Her voice was stilted. She twisted the ring on her left ring finger and looked back to her glass. Too bad it was empty. "Haven’t told Sven yet that I had to ..." Her voice broke and the gentleman’s arms went from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her close. She let out a deep sigh and sniffled, her arms resting over his.

"I'm sorry Julia..." He hugged her tight, as if she was the last real thing left in this existence. "He'll understand."

"I hope so." Julia stiffened as the TV seemed to get louder.

"The mob we've been tracking is moving towards the Taunton area, most notably near the Green. Please remain indoors. I repeat remain indoors, and allow the army to deal with the infestation." Julia started laughing a slow, unsettling guttural laugh. The gentleman with her shook his head and tapped her shoulder as he stood.

"C'mon. I've got weapons stored in your van."

"Who knew all those hours of left for dead would come in handy, Derrick " The girl smirked and stood. She pointed to the bartender. "You need a shotgun?"

"Nah I've got my own gun." He smirked and pulled out a sniper rifle, making preparations to mount it on the window. Julia nodded, clearly impressed with his choice of weapon. She pulled out her cell phone and shot off a message to her uncle, while they made their way to the car. A group of people with boards and nails began to filter into the bar.

"We're going back in there?" Derrick asked and looked over to Julia as he tossed her a loaded double barreled shot gun. Julia raised an eyebrow and looked over her sunglasses. "Right."

"On the road again..." Julia sung quietly to herself as the air grew eerily quiet. Just off in the distance you could hear the shuffling of a mob. "Just can't wait to get on the road again..." She looked down the sight to check and see where they were. Nowhere close, yet.

"Time for another drink?" Derrick smirked and she nodded. A least in all of this... she hadn't lost her sense of humor.

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.

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."

NaNoWriMo Day 16: Into the belly of the beast...

Hey guys! Tis Jessi again... a touch more beleaguered from the NaNo experience. See the video below to find out more about where I'm at in my journey...

NaNoWriMo Day 5

Hey guys! A quick update and a look into my life and NaNoWriMo!!


Sorry I've been absent but hopefully this will be the start of more regular postings again. <3


Love and Letters,
Jessi

NaNo Dare 1 : Character in a Tavern

I dare you to start your creative juices flowing now. Take one character from your upcoming NaNo and put them in a bar full of Centaurs and other mythical creatures. 500 words minimum...

Somewhere in the fragile lines between sanity and insanity dwell, lies the bounds of reality. Erik knew this area well, as most mad scientists do. He sat quietly watching a train pass by on a long dead track. It ground to a stop, brakes clearly un-oiled as the squeals filled the evening air. Erik winced and stuck his pinky in his ear, wiggling it in an attempt to clear the noise from his mind. The doors opened and he stepped on board, trench coat encompassing the doorway. He tipped his fedora to the conductor, a smaller than average man, with long pointed ears. The tiny man smiled and gestured to the row of open seats. The train took off and a few minutes later, it was full of creatures of every description… all inbound to one destination.

The tavern was quaint. It was a medium sized brick building. It was an unassuming looking building during the day but at night, well… to be fair the sight of a minotaur crashing through the front windows sort of denoted the place as a bit… odd. Erik walked forward, smirking as an elf and a clearly inebriated dwarf left the bar pointing and laughing at the minotaur who was being helped to his feet. The creature seemed stuck between a howl and a chuckle and couldn’t decide. Erik passed through the front door to the bar, where a pretty, pale girl with black hair stood. Her face was perfect, symmetrically. He’d noted this several times, mostly while drunk. Her name was … Sylvia? He couldn’t remember. He did remember however, exactly where he sat every night he came. He moseyed over to the bar stool and took off his coat extending it to nothing, letting it be whisked away to the coat room. Ned was the ghost in charge of coats. He was the only one who could handle corporeal matters.

“What will you have tonight, Erik?”

‘Slyvia… Sally… she must have a name…’ Erik smiled through the confusion and shrugged. “Something to warm me. The chill in the air is quite heavy tonight.” The woman smiled and nodded.

“I think that’s just Ned screwing with you, but…” She poured an amber liquid into a glass and set it in front of him. “Here you go.”

“Scotch…” Erik’s smile grew and he picked up the glass, saluting her quietly. The woman smirked and leaned forward, whispering something into his ear. “Well of course I knew your name was Samantha… What do you take me for, my darling? How could I forget such an impossibly lovely woman’s name?”

“I take you for human, Erik. To ere is human after all.” She smirked, her eyes flashing red for a moment. She held his gaze for a moment before walking away to another patron, nodding and getting him a drink. Erik frowned and looked into his glass.

“ ‘I take you for human…’ “ He mocked softly and took a swig. The cool liquor brought the expected warmth to his esophagus, and began to migrate outward. He turned his attention away from the bar and … Samantha, looking around the room to what most would consider a freak show. To him… This was home.

Clustering : A Brain Dump in Color

So tonight at Inkwell, we decided to go over some organizational techniques for writers, given NaNoWriMo is just around the corner... already! *deep breath*So in an effort to show the effects of clustering (yes kids, in color), I demonstrated on my NaNo storyline, thus giving you a peek into my NaNo and my clustering methods. 

In addition to this ...mess... There is a point to clustering. It's not simply to draw on white boards with pretty marker, though that does help keep you focused, but to engage your brain in active imagination cohesion. Your brain works in odd ways and not many of us can work in pretty bullet pointed lists. They are shiny, but not for everyone, just like clustering. The biggest advantage of clustering is, it forces you to see the connections inherent with your characters, theme, setting, and misc.  Suddenly all those little details you didn't want to think about need a home, and the bigger notes? They get a list on the side, or, even better, a whole separate more overarching cluster!

So give it a shot. Take a look at my mess and see what you can do with your own stories. =]

<3 

Jessi

Whole beginning cluster. Neatly color coded and a list of notes on the side

 

I'm starting to think here that Annie (the 11 yr old) may be much more
interesting than her adoptive father....

Eric wants a Dragon. * points above*

Dislikes private investors. Stupid minion demand... 

An Inkwell Webinar: Villainy!

Hey guys!

This week has been a little hectic for me, work wise, so the posts are a bit out of the normal order. In addition to the work schedule, I had a bit of a personal issue to deal with, however, that has been conquered for the moment.

Now that that's out of the way, two weeks ago at Inkwell Imaginings; we ran a series on villains. Below is the webinar and some photos of our white boarding including some info on a character that some of you have read about, named Erik. Sound familiar? Good!

White boarding adventure! (Yes, yes I know, my handwriting is not 100% legible in some spots. Apologies!)

From the Audience: A Look at Marie

“I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time. A place where the lines seem to blur together, no one really noticing boundaries. I invite you to take a seat and to watch the show.  The hangman and the puncture artist will welcome you with open arms and instruments, looking for a willing stretch of skin and perhaps an unloved neck.  Oh no, dear Clementine; this side show is anything but what you were expecting. No child.”  His voice was soft as he nudged her to the door of the arboretum. The woman was terrified. That was clear but then again, so was her enthusiasm. Her wide eyes, fighting for emotional control of them. The ringmaster saw it and simply, ushered her in. The ring sat waiting for the show, a crowd sitting quietly whispering to themselves. He sat dear Clementine down in the only open seat, taking her coat and placing it over the back of the chair. The ticket collector came to her, but the Ringmaster waived him off. 

“She is my guest.” His cool hand lay on her barely covered shoulder and his stare was just as cold. The ticket collector gave the girl and odd smile and then continued. Clementine looked back at the Ringmaster as he walked to the back of the theater.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Her gaze turned from fear to rapt excitement as the lights dimmed. Her focus was brought to the center ring. A small woman with a thin bone structure sat limply, piercings fresh through the skin near her joints. She looked… dead. Clementine gasped, seeing a bald gentleman walk up from behind her to the roar of the crowd.  He flourished and bowed, drinking in the moment. His hand extended to the girls, picking her hand up. Her eyes blinked. ‘She’s alive!’ Clementine inhaled sharply and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.  The woman was stunning. Simply beautiful… but she couldn’t be alive… No one in their right mind would put themselves…

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the show! I see you have already been greeted by our lovely Marie. Please, do give her a round of applause!” The audience erupted and the Ringmaster gestured towards the girl now suspended midair, giggling and hanging limply. A bald man stood behind her almost in the shadows, saluting the crowd, a grin across his own makeup covered face.  He tugged a rope and Marie’s head popped up looking over the crowd, eyes connecting with Clementines…

“Yes we have a new guest for the evening, thank you for noticing my dear.” The Ringmaster didn’t even look up but gestured to the girl in the audience. Marie let a smile slide across her lips as her master, tugged another rope and a series of smaller strings. Her hand raised and she waved gently, her fingers dancing up and down with the string, accordingly. Clementines stomach turned and she help a kerchief over her mouth. She felt faint but could not look away…The Ringmasters eyes glinted as he watched her reaction, starring at the girl. ‘What have I gotten myself into’ she thought quietly as the show began to seem to revolve around her…

Between Genius and... Genius! A response to Goggles and Lace's Writing Prompt

“You're kidding right?” I growled into the communicator and shook my head, wavinga hand at one of the gremlins about my lab. He was holding some sort of paperwork, but quite frankly, I didn't care. This investor bullshit is not for me. “Fine. We'll have a prototype up and running within the next couple of weeks. I'll need more... Yes. Send a shipment ASAP. And not ASAP as in 'as soon as you please'. The traditional version of the acronym will do just fine.” I hung up before more demands could be made of me. I appreciate rich idiots like one enjoys ditzy blond play things. As long as they're sitting looking pretty and not speaking, it's 'all good in the hood'. I sighed and ran a hand through my ever increasingly longer hair. I should get a hair cut...

“Master!” I sighed. These little genetic manipulated mutations might have been a mistake...

“What?!” I snapped, squeezing the bridge of my nose. I was told once it fights oncoming headaches. Whoever said that was a fucking liar. The gremlin coughed and stood as straight as it could in front of me, thrusting paperwork at my free hand. I took it, bringing the yellowing papers up to my face for a closer look. It was plans... Plans I hadn't drawn up. I adjusted my goggles and peered closer at the papers.

“I made a few adjustments... With Mistress Annie's help...” His voice was raspy and sounded like that of an overworked child. High pitched and seeking approval while having this annoying undertone of whine that shot through me like nails on a... well you get my point.

“Ahh.. Annie was here today was she?” That girl was becoming too smart for her own good. I always advocated killing the girl. But no! Now she was attached to me.

I grumbled as I walked over to the wall of switches and levers. I left the decoy wall there for funsies. Felt like every mad scientist lab should have one, and what the hell, the gremlins love it. A mirror hung at eye level off of a piece of rawhide. I checked it thoughtfully, needing a moment to inspect myself before heading upstairs. Adopted child or not, she tended to be upset when I came upstairs looking like I haven't slept in 3 days... or had it been 4? Who knew at this point. The sun doesn't reach down here anyway. My eyes looked sunken in and closer to black then my dark brown eyes ever should. Pale. Sickly, she'd say. Healthy, I'd argue as always. No chance of skin cancer in the dark. Should tie my hair back. I stretched out my hand and a gremlin deposited a brush with a piece of string on the end. Perfect.

“Thank you Cedric.”

“Eyown, master.” I looked down and it was in fact. Cedric was taller. Less heavy around the middle. Also less likely to snap at a moments notice. I nodded.

“Apologies Eyown. Cedric was just right here.”

“ 'E got hungry. Went out to yard to catch dinner.” I chuckled as I tied my hair back.

“Very well. You should eat too. Go run along. I'll be back after I take care of Annie.” He nodded and galloped off towards the gate. That's two.. where was... Ah. I looked in the mirror more carefully at the pipes that led to the generator. Hanging upside down was the tallest of the bizarre little creatures, sound asleep. I nodded and stepped to the side, pulling the one functional lever on the wall, revealing my lift. It was a solid piece of steel with only two levers. One to go up, and one to go down. And it only went between my lab and the false fireplace in my bedroom. I took the lift, looking around the lab once more for good measure. Two of them outside and one snoring. And nothing out of place. Good enough to stop for dinner.

I opened the door to my chamber to see Annie, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Father.” Her voice was as flat as her stare. Over the glasses, and stern. I sighed and brought a smile to my lips.

“Yes, dear. How was school today?” I walked over and hugged her gently, though there was no physical response from her.

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I already know everything they can teach me. I showed Mrs. Boudain how to correct her nuclear fission equations. She's kinda dumb.” I had to chuckle. Mrs. Boudain had invented half those equations, and the other half she stole from her late husband. She never could get those ironed out quite right. It was at that point she had turned to villanry, deciding that if her late husband, Mr. Theodias Boudain was dumb enough to get himself killed saving the world, she'd better be on the side that lived longer. Villanry it was. “Why do I have to go?” Her voice cut through my thoughts and I stopped looking down at the 12 year old.

“Because I said so.” The fall back answer for every lame parent there ever was. I was quickly becoming one of those.

“Seriously? How about a real reason?” She blew her bangs out of her freckled face as the took to the marble banister, sliding down expertly. I walked quietly down he stairs starring at her while I thought.

“Because. You could be the smartest little child there ever was, the strongest little girl, or the most evil, however, you can still learn a thing or two about humanity within those walls.” I raised a brow, pulling a small pair of spectacles out of my pocket, and replacing my goggles with them. She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders fall in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Humans suck” She said slouching further as she crossed her arms.

“That may be true Miss Annie, but that's not up for debate. You're going to school tomorrow, even if I have to have Cedric bring you.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out. “Then it's settled.” The door gong sounded, a series of smaller bells going off through the hallway. “Go set the table, I need to answer this.” I had been expecting someone. Annie frowned and nodded, slumping off towards the dining room. I turned, footsteps echoing down the ornate hallway. I should invest in carpeting... though I feel I come to that conclusion every time I walk the halls. I pulled a lever by the door and stood, watching it swing open slowly. A woman stood before me, leaning against the doorway, holding her side. A slight smirk graced her features as she stepped through the door way, dropping her pack. She was a tall girl, blond hair and striking blue eyes, but that wasn't why she was interesting to me. She opened her pack, wordlessly handing me a couple of brass keys on a chain. From that very same pack came a brass box.

“Good.” I smiled and took the box under my arm, turning to head back to the dining room. “Clean up upstairs. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” I heard a soft whimper. I turned, eyes set ina glare over my glasses. She stood up as straight as she could and nodded. I turned and continued my trek.

“Was that Anya?? What'd she bring you?? Is it that? What's in the box?” The child's eyes and ears missed nothing, a wonderful and also wholly loath-able attribute. She pried at my arm in an attempt to release the box from it. I shook my head and slapped her hands lightly.

“I thought you outgrew this stage years ago.” I muttered and placed the box down on the table, sitting in front of it. It wasn't ticking, so the mechanism was deactivated. A plus. The keys in my hand fit into two locks on the box perfectly. The lid popped open with a soft hiss. Annie jumped behind me and looked over my shoulder as I pulled the piston from within it. Small, much smaller than the box itself, but none the less the part I needed. There was some miscellaneous crud in there as well, including a few specialty bolts for the dragon automaton I was tinkering with in my spare time.

Anya reappeared, now dressed more formally, bandages wrapped tightly around her waist and ribs. She smiled softly at Annie, who ran to her and hugged her, a bit too tightly. Anya gasped and Annie froze. “I'm sooooo sorry Anya!” She signed quickly as well as said it, backing off, a bit surprised. Anya nodded and patted her on the head signing “It'll be alright little one.” She bowed her head to me and sat down.

One of the help appeared around the corner and brought a tray with three meals piping hot on them. He was the only one that could cook around here. Might as well make use of it.

“Let's eat.” I smiled to the girls. For that one moment, life seemed normal. Projects underway, deadlines to fulfill, a girl set straight again, and one recovering from a successful mission. Sometimes it's good to be evil.  

Speak Out with your Geek Out: Costumes

Ok, ok. I'm sure you guys were expecting my first Speak Out post on gaming, writing, or something of that ilk, because I talk about it CONSTANTLY. However. There are a few things with which I frequently geek out over. One of them is costuming.

If you're one of my close friends, this is no surprise to you. I've done a few costumes in the past for friends, not in the least bit excluding my work on a Final Fantasy costume extravaganza. My interests in costuming have deep roots in my love of theater and the ability of clothing to transform a person. Sometimes all it takes is a new hat to make an outfit a thousand times better. Ok, maybe not a thousand times, but pretty darn close. Beyond a simple outfit change is the mental change that's taken on by the person to sort of become that figure that they're representing.

My personal experience in the world of costuming has been short but entirely fulfilling. A few years back I created the aforementioned final fantasy costumes for myself and two of my friends for Halloween. My costume alone took about 72 hours of almost non-stop work, and countless hours on the other two. By the end, Cloud, Tifa, and Lulu emerged to a Halloween party, with rounds of compliments and a ton of congratulating. I even got mentioned in Cloud's Best Costume acceptance speech. It was all a lot of fun and to be honest something I wouldn't mind repeating. I work on costumes for Ren Faires on the side, mostly for myself. Occasionally I'll work on something for someone else, with no pay, but entirely for the love of working with the fabric and seeing the 'customer's' thrilled face at the end of it. Watching them go through fittings and adjustments, so it fits them perfectly is great.

I've always be fascinated by this sort of change. Just watching shy individuals go from their day to day to these amazing characters all because of some make-up, hair, and wardrobe. This sort of change is expected of actors and stage-folk, however the change is most remarkable from those that you have friends of, most likely. Or at the very least, you've heard them whispered about in the shadowy corners of the gaming and convention worlds. Cosplayers and LARPers. No? Oh ok, just no idea of what they are. Time for a brief explanation.

Cosplayers are “short for 'costume play',is a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” This sort of performance (and yes, it is a performance) can range from Halloween to any particular convention you attend. Often times at these conventions there are prizes for best cosplay for the weekend, with many contests and events for the costumed to parade around and show off their handy work.

LARPers are “Live action role players”. These individuals dress up in costume, must like the cosplayers , but take it a step further acting out their characters and recording their hits, misses, successes and failures within the game environment. More often than not these people can be found in groups over the weekends in the woods with their friends, practicing their craft. I should say right off the bat, that while most people have some degree of disdain in the gaming world for these people, I don't share in that opinion. Hell, I think it's great! Have I done it? No. Will I ever? Probably not. Why, you ask? Why don't you?

Regardless on your feelings on either of these categories, the idea of dressing up and acting is not a new one nor a terribly novel concept. It's trans-formative powers are amazing and quite well known throughout the world. Another wonderful example of the costuming art? Drag Queens. Love them! No really. I think it's amazing. I really do. I've watched a few on tv and then so many tutorials online about how to cover and fix and conceal things that, if I were a man, I'd have tried it by now. Helps that I have a ton of makeup. Another one of those; if you know me, you wouldn't be shocked moments.

Costuming and makeup offer the world a chance to see yourself in a different light, potentially a more positive one that will drive you to bring these sort of behavior that you may want to make slight changes in in your day to day. So think about it the next time you start your day on a sour note. Maybe throw on your favorite shirt, or spend a minute or two extra fluffing your hair. Something little that can help transform your attitude and the attitude of those around you.

Namaste,

Jessi

I am only responsible for three of these costumes, but
the party was amazing. Great memories.