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Sat #110StoryI grasp the hilt, and remember the woad stained madman who came to my farm three days ago.Anyone, he promised me, anyone can be king if they have the heart for it.I think of glory, and nothing happens. The blade stays within in its womb of stone. Jeers tell the pig herding, bucktoothed cunt to step aside.I think of my name echoed through the ages, and still the blade shows no sign of being unsheathed. Some rotten vegetable strikes my head and bursts against my teenage acne.I think of my family, our land caught between two warring chieftains. I think of children staring at burned down homes, of women used as pleasure for men. I think of my own stolen virginity.Tears run from my eyes. I hear the brutish laughter of men and the dam breaks in my memory...God I just wish for peace, and a land where people like me don't have to hate themselves anymore.Finally I hear the scrape of a whisper, and the sword's weight lightens as if it were a pail with water leaking out of the bottom..../StorySun #111StoryAlone at the core of the world, the dragon sleeps. Once it burned the countryside, and made sport of human lives.Now it is older, and wiser, and promises itself it will be slain by a hero worthy of the name, a leader of nations who numbers among the best of them.Still it sleeps, for the best of us have yet to take the reigns of power./StoryMon #112StoryThe giants are the mountains, the dryads reincarnated through generations of acorns and twirling maple seeds, the sea serpents the ocean currents that wind around the world. Dare I open the gate for the Elves? Dare I wake the Magic that slumbers in the folds of Earth's bones and veins?I look back at the factory belching smoke, I think of the silos full of missiles and all the victims of cruelty who are told there is no such thing as salvation.Raise the rune stone up to catch the first rays of red twilight bleeding on the fields. I feel the Veil begin to strain, but lower my hand before it tears.I just don't know. I just don't know if I can do this, or if I should.Why was it put on my shoulders, to play midwife to the Ending that is the Return?/StoryTues #113StoryAs my semen spurts into the toilet water, I feel a sigh of relief though I've been here too long. Just couldn't get hard for a bit there, but it was worth the wait. Coming to porn again, it's like a shackle clacking open. The knot of my desire is finally untied from her.Is this what they mean, those religious type people? Is this kinda like what accepting God would be like?/StoryWeds #114StoryThe honeybee slams into the web, and even as the spider approaches from the center of the weaving it only tangles itself further in confusion.All it thinks about is returning to the hive, even as venom liquifies its insides.I watch the murder with fascination, and take this violence as a Sign that I really need to find a new job./StoryThurs #115StoryHer hand job is insane in its near violence, makes me come way before her. It suddenly strikes me that though its late all the lights are on around us. Her roommates are asleep...I think?My hands are down her pants. I thought I'd be married before I touched a wet vagina. How did I get so buried in sin?I hug her, this temptress whose led me astray, because I just need someone to hold as I feel God pulling away from my heart./Story
Fri and Sat, 116 & 117:Shepherds of SmokeGiants with the bark skin and branch hair of cedars, these Shepherds are perpetually covered in ash as they use their bellowing breath to spread the ever blooming smoke from a grand, rune covered volcano in the Eald. Where the ash touches down, the Wyld transforms temporarily, taking on aspects of some long dead Court with a culture so old - or at least displaced in Time - that few fey recognize what they are incarnating.A love of kraken meat and a reverence for snow white owls, a worship of cavern rivers running over veins of ore. A driving need to offer up the blood of the Warp's Elders to an Eald Spirit called Twilight Sun over Frost.Thankfully, the ash disperses quickly enough, most of the time, keeping the fey of the Eald from embarking on what must be a suicidal mission against the Keepers of the Warp.The Midwives of ChampionsThese women are all dressed in white, with alabaster skin and have fiery red or jet black hair. All of their blue eyes shine out with a ceaseless hunger to make the mortals of the worlds stronger. Sometimes this means leaving them to wander in vision quests in the Eald, other times it means offering them gifts from the cyclopean forges of the Wan. Others are tested as tricksters in the Seelie Courts spread across the Weal, and some are given to the Gauntlet to see if that prison might transform the meek into the mighty.The Midwives care not whether the Champion is a servant of Good or Chaos or simply desires to drink deep from the arterial blood of endangered megafauna. What matters is that these empowered, ideally epic adventurers continue to ensure the worlds are producing legends to feed the flow of Narrative Time.
Inspired by #110~~~The chains they attached to the stone rattle as the sword moves - but it lightens like reigns being pulled from ones hands. It plunges! Deeper - the stone splitting to either side, sending me sprawling into the muck as the sword found a deeper bite in a boulder below. The crowd roars in anger after a long fearful moment. Enraged they step forward, but theirs something dull in the mans movements, something feline and silver within the round of his pupil. He shoves chains into my hands. Twines their ends around my arms."Take your shame there, girlie, and leave here! GIT!"More rotten vegetables - but their aim and strength of throw seems waned by fearfulness, as she gets to her feet and drags her burden.It is many miles, on a hungry stomach, home. She knows not how far any might follow her, but beneath the shadow of a massive old oak tree, she eventually tires of her burden. For some reason she still finds herself pulling it free of yet one more gutter. She pulls and she pulls and she tires and yanks. The stone sails past her, impacts against the heart of the oak...and explodes through, spewing ancient wood out along with the stone. She looks in horror as the chain, the one wrapped around her arm, extends, see's in her mind her arm being torn away to bone. The chain yanks to it's length. Her feet do not move. I stand there, unmoving.Then I run, the oak about to crash onto me, and the chains yank me over onto my buttocks, heavy as the iron and weight they carry. I cringe in a ball on the ground and...find myself in a clearing amongst the crashing limbs of the tree. Cradled within the place where thick old branches fork.
Sun and Mon, 118 & 119:StoryA dragon's shadow passes above us. I pray.A siren sings in a public pool, threatening to lure our youngsters away. I pray.Teenagers in basements have become alchemists, supplying gangs with wasted healing and weapons of war. I pray.Magic has returned to the world...but God?God is still silent./StoryStoryGod's blood on the soil packed on a serpent's coil, this is how a world is born.Ice melted by dragon fire, watering crops called up by a song wed to the lyre, this is how a world is made.Hearts offered up to the Sun, harvested from survivors when the war is won...this is how the world is sustained./Story
Tues 120 (The Grey is the mist enshrouded area between the Seelie and Unseelie courts) The Carnival of Mists and the Grey MasqueradesNot so much an event as an endless celebration intertwined with Grey culture, the Carnival and Masquerades are a collection of disguises and improvised performances continually going on in the Courts within the mist. The Carnival is less localized, currents of style and theme passing between lands and Courts via travelers and scrying pools that offer glimpses of other Courts and even distant civilizations in the Grey. Sometimes the themes run into the macabre, other times it seems as if a strong sexual undertow dominates the events. The Grey Masquerades are more specific to Courts, with glamors and costumes utilized together. Depending on the Court, one may find people impersonating each other or pretending to be dignitaries from other parts of the Wyld. PCs may even find a dinner filled with replicas of themselves! In other places a masquerade is more about totemic emblems, and less about disguise. Masks may only be used as badges of station, caste, or some other designation in that particular Court.
Weds #121 (From the Fairie Project)The Orchard of ChaoskampfThe darkness of the Wan extends not only through the Underdark of the Wyld, but also the oceanic nadir of the Wyld's saline waters. In these inky depths, one finds great tracts of submerged earth illuminated only by the bio-luminescence of varied fauna. Among their number there are gargantuan, mansion sized sea anemones that hold within their poisonous fronds the merfolk harlequin gardeners whose scales' coloration serve as costume for these macabre jesters. These beings are responsible for raising the monsters that are raised within the protection tentacles - the great beasts of Chaos that challenge those heroes seeking to preserve civilization.Given the purpose of the harlequins - to utilize the Chaoskampf as an engine of narrative time - there are portals scattered amidst the Orchard leading to worlds strewn across the void of the Prime Material Plane.
Thurs #122StoryEver since the return of Magic to the world, I find the landscape reshaped when I awaken.Stone turns to mist, revealing palaces lit by will o' wisp swarms.Oceans recede, and great mansions of coral rise from reefs long bereft of arcana.Shadows flicker and grow watchful, loyalty to their makers no longer guaranteed.It is as if all of human history since the leaving of the Elves was Winter, and now we are greeted by the vibrancy of a new and terrifying Spring./Story
Fri #123The Time LostHermits and pilgrims of sundered timelines, expatriates literally bereft of their pasts, the Time Lost come to the Warp in hopes of finding glimmers of their erased civilizations and histories. Some desperately seeking a way to retrieve at least a few loved ones, if not their entire societies, from the alterations in the flow of Time. Others simply come to bask in memories and ghostly recreations of what they've come to accept that can or at least should not seek to recover.Among the Time Lost, the Le Shay are readily welcomed into the societies of the Wyld given their relation to both elves and fey. However, the relationship between these beings and the geratric-seeming lords and ladies of the Warp varies as many of the wizened fey are wary of those Le Shay seeking to undo the event that replaced their past with the current timeline of the Multiverse.Similarly, other Time Lost have varied relationships with the accepted but largely undeclared rulers of the Warp, though non-Le Shay oftentimes end up being utilized as pawns or indentured servants strung along with promises of resurrecting loved ones lost to shifts in the temporal currents. The more powerful of these are left largely to their own devices, and end up as hermits - or if their numbers are sufficient, settlers - near the Cosmic Ocean or become wandering mercenaries, dervishes, or lunatics in the Desert of the Shattered Hourglass.
Sat #124StorySometimes (Sometimes?) we deceive ourselves into believing that to step out on the ledge guarantees reward.When the indifference of Fate to our whim confronts us, we are - if but for a moment - frozen in disbelief.And this is how I found myself rushing from the out-of-the-way bathroom to the meeting four floors above, having thought that the video I torrented to my phone via the use of nigh infinite patience would make me come good & hard...I honestly believed that she'd drop her drawers in this one (10 minutes and no crotch shot?!), having faith that she must have a pussy as beautiful as her face...That last bit of belief I hold in my continued frustration, even as I try to will my hard on flacid while riding the elevator toward my employer.../Story
Hey, Saajan, since you do alot of stories revolving around porn, I'm curious about one involving amatuers (genuine) and where that goes. And lets assume not a stolen tape or anything. Where does that go?
Hmmm, it is a good thing to cover but not sure if I can think of anything off the top of my head.=-=-=Sun #125 (From stuff going on at Planewalker.com)The way they walk through Sigil, demon and angel alike, I can't help look askance at them and the viscous current of crowded bodies that parts then seals itself around their winged forms.All around them are beings from varied worlds and planes, in all sorts of garb conversing in all sorts of languages. Are Heaven and the Abyss filled with such Gnosis that both seem so inured to the wondrous diversity?I admit I am but a humble chronicler, yet I am older and more...ubiquitous than either member of this pair that has drawn my inquiry and critique. Still I find myself surprised by the sensory feast offered on every block of the Cage's streets. How, then, can I accept that these two are so nonchalant at the wonder around them?Yet let it not be said that I am any less disappointed in those who bustle around them. Yes you are late for work and yes you are on your way to meet your lady love, but do you not see that Evil and Good are treading upon the very ground you walk on? That you breathe air that has cycled through the lungs of morals made flesh?And is it not worth an intermission in your dullard existence to acknowledge the subtle glance that flashes between them as they pass by one another, each clearly made uncomfortable by this unintended revival of memory? Don't you wonder if perhaps here is an angel almost fallen, along with a succubus who was, at some point past, a thin cliff's edge from being saved?Me? I'm just glad that of all the places in the Multiverse it is this one that I haunt, I thank all the gods that I was mugged and murdered in the Hive instead of some Prime back alley...=-=-=Mon 126The MistAs you leave the dark, cavernous confines of the Wan and the bright fields of the Weal you find your path marked by thin streamers of fog. Sometimes it is born of warm steam rising from the earth - as if someone had buried a thousand thousand tea kettles just beneath the soil and sometimes it comes as clouds wandering on slow currents of air, their rain pregnant forms floating impossibly close to the ground. As one moves into the lands of the Grey the Mists vary in thickness though there is almost always some haze obscuring one's view. Some beings exist as part of the mist either naturally or as prisoners discorporated during conflicts so old they precede the rise of the Seelie and Unseelie courts. These creature cajole and whisper, the former playing various games and the latter with few exceptions invariably seeking freedom. There many of what the fey call "mist pawns" between the Grey Courts, mortals who divide themselves into those convinced by curse, deception, or promise to serve the denizens of the fog and those who fight against these beings for vengeance's sake or to prevent the return of some ancient Wyld inhabitant that made sport on their respective worlds.Despite the dangers in conceals, the Mists are not evil. They likely preserve a good deal of mortal sanity by veiling the shifting of time, distance and landscape in the softer areas of the Grey lands. Of course even here some would argue that by hiding these distortions mortals are more likely to miss the passing of centuries in their homelands or be shepherded to wherever the varied forces of the Grey wish them to be. Still, mortals are not wholly left to the mercy of the Wyld - a mortal with the right mindset can in fact utilize the mists to cut down on travel times and use it as planar pathway to the various worlds that touch Fairie. There are even those who whisper that some of the Mists' prisoners were put there by mortals rather than fey...
Newly edited excerpt from my novella, Perennials: --------------------- Outside, the concrete walkway was cool and oddly pleasant upon the soles of his naked feet. The ice machine was a few rooms down and around the corner, set in a gap between the two main sections of the motel. Angel-Eyes stuck the bucket under the ice-chute and pressed a button, watching as the cubes clattered down into it, jarringly loud in the silence of the night. He filled it half-way before releasing the button, and was just about to head back to the room when he caught a new scent on the air. Tobacco smoke and sickly sweet perfume. Expensive shampoo and young flesh. And something metallic. Blood. Or close to it... He looked across the street and saw two girls leaning against a pillar and passing a cigarette back and forth. They were thin and blond and wore tank-tops with pajamas that clung loosely to their hips and rears. Teenagers. One of them glanced over to Angel-Eyes and saw him staring, and she gestured to her friend. They both smiled, and the one with the cigarette blew a line of smoke from pursed lips, shining wet under the dirty yellow light. Angel-Eyes decided that the blood-like smell was from one of them menstruating. He grinned, throwing a friendly nod their way before casually approaching them, and the night was black in a way that transcended simple darkness.
Good stuff Francis - only major issue I have is the "transcended simple darkness" part. It just seems unclear what you mean by this. Is the vampire making the darkness more than "simple darkness" or is there a supernatural current in the air?=-=-=Alright, gotta catch up:Tues 127 StoryMy 22 y.o. unbelievably hot sister in law is taking a shower. I know she's attracted to me, I can tell in the way she laughs at my jokes. I might have a bit of a gut, one that jiggles as I descend into the basement to get some cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving dinner, but I still got muscle under this fat.Still got my glory days, still got my record though you know they're doping in high school now? No joke.If we'd met when I was younger, we'd have definitely fucked. My latest fantasy scenario to stay hard while inside of my wife.Water's running through the pipes, water that's slid off her breasts, off her pussy. Is she touching herself right now, biting her lip not to moan, thinking about me?I reach out to touch the pipe, then stop myself. A little fantasy is fine, but I can't help but feel that'd veer into adultery./StoryWeds 128StoryIce coats the trees in crystalline garb, the wind making every creaking branch into a tinkling chime.It was like this every Winter, even before Magic returned. Even before I ended the world.But now, with the accompaniment of the elves and their avian wails of mourning, it feels more fitting.A proper dirge for passing modernity./StoryThurs 129Story"So there are spirits...where? On the other side of the sky? We already got pipes out - take out some of your peyote or whatever and let's all have a puff. I wanna see all these genies and fey."The words are already dusted with slurs, and the sun has yet to surrender the sky."I can't take you", I say as I gesture toward his glass of whiskey. "You're already possessed by a demon."Instead of getting angry he takes the admonishment with a semblance of graceful resignation, and that more than anything extends the jagged crack in the acre of heart I reserve for this man./StoryFri 130StorySlices of ham and a block of cheddar, a scattering of Godiva filled with raspberry syrup. A thermos of box wine.Dick lathered in olive oil, a shot glass full that'll I be using as backup.Four windows taking up equal space on my laptop - Playboy, Penthouse, girl jerking off, two girls fucking on a pool table.Worked late today, working all weekend, but the wife's gone and I got the place to myself.I press four play buttons and begin to eat and jerk off.God, I so fucking needed this./StorySaturday Story(to the tune of Fresh Prince of Bel Air)In the heart of Ishual I was born and raisedUnder the shadow of the Consult I spent most of my daysYoking my Legion an' trying to stay coolLearning 'bout Logos in my Dunyain SchoolWhen my Cishaurim daddy, who was up to no goodStarting sending dreams back to my neighborhoodFucked with our Mission, so the Pragmas got scaredAnd I was sent to kick my dad Moe in the rear/Story
Just my reading by to me transcending darkness is as if to layer a palpable semantic layer over reality, like almost physically present (much like the scene where Kellhus first placidly observes Serwe's rape by Cnauir, yet something seems to be there to him)
It definitely wasn't meant to be taken literally, the vampires are more "scientific" than magical (or at least as scientific as vampires can get). That scene is actually the end of Angel-Eyes' whole segment, so I was going for a sort of ambiguity as to whether or not he was going to feed on/kill the girls, since the character is sort of conflicted on trying to feed on live humans (even though now he's on the run and basically has to). It's probably a little too weird and vague though. I suppose I could cut it off at the "casually approached them" part, which would still have the same effect? Maybe too abrupt? I don't know, for some reason it's a weird part to figure out for me, that's why I posted it here It might be better even to just cut it with the girls noticing him, and never even have the "approach" part. Either way I definitely want to leave it the reader's imaginations as to what goes down. By the way, either of you guys trying to do NaNoWriMo?
