Steel Haven part 2 - Engineer Council

Steel Haven was a seat of power for King Alexander, and while the Chalybs Kingdom didn’t have military superiority it did have engineering superiority. King Alexander was a smart man who surrounded himself with the smartest men and women he could find. He had generals and war councils like other kings but he was one of the only kings in the land that had an engineering council. These medieval engineers were the humans that made Steel Haven possible. The engineers worked tirelessly on new projects every night to make sure their King had the strongest seat of power in the world. King Alexander didn’t ask to be the most powerful king in the world, he wanted to be the best protector in the world and in exchange his people saw this and did everything they could to make sure their noble protector had any advantage he could.

Joseph Hawk was the head of the Engineer Council, he had thick brown hair, hazel eyes and wore rough workers clothes. When he was outside the city walls he wore light armor made for him by command of the King. This armor was made so it wouldn’t restrict his movements but it would protect his chest, stomach, head and parts of his arms and legs. On the chest piece was the symbol of the Kingdom, which was a C and crossing it was a blacksmith hammer and a pickaxe. Joseph carried a short sword with him, which was so short it was almost a long dagger. He was so dedicated to his job that he personally requested a small sword so that he could carry more tools with him.

On a sunny afternoon Joseph was tasked to reinforce the defenses of the local iron mine. He traveled with a group of workers who would help construct barriers and gates for the mine. They rode their horses south and talked about the upcoming project during the whole trip. The cheerful mood turned sour when the group finally reached the mine. Normally a guard would greet any visitors who arrived but when Joseph and his group approached the mine they noticed it was completely unguarded.

The group was on high alert and worried something happened at the mine. Joseph drew his sword, which signaled everyone in the group to draw their weapons as well. The group of ten people dismounted and slowly approached the mine. Joseph’s mind raced with possibilities. If the guards were killed, there would have been bodies left. If a neighboring kingdom attacked there would have been horse tracks or foot prints leading up to the mine entrance.

Joseph and the group entered the large mouth of the iron mine. As they shuffled in the tunnels grew smaller and narrower. Joseph lit a torch and held it with one hand while holding his sword out with his other hand. As they went deeper into the tunnel they saw an armored body face down on the ground. Joseph handed off his torch and ran over to the fallen guard. Joseph shook the man and a the guard moved slightly in response.

The guard seemed barely alive but was still breathing. “We have to get him out of here” Joseph said. Everyone agreed. Four people grabbed hold of the guard and began to carry the injured man out of the narrow tunnel. Half of the group left for the exit while Joseph and the other half stayed behind to search for the other two guards.

The iron mine didn’t need many guards due to the peaceful state of the land, the openness of the field that surrounded the mine and the stable relationship King Alexander had with the neighboring kingdoms. Something had changed and someone attacked these guards.

Joseph and his group didn’t find any more guards and decided to turn back. Joseph worried that whatever attacked the guards might still be around to attack the now split group of workers. Joseph and his group made their way to the mine’s exit. While they walked Joseph’s mind kept bouncing between two thoughts “The guards escaped and are heading back the Steel Haven to report what they saw” and “The last two guards are alive deeper in the mine and giving up on them will cause their death”. Joseph knew he had to protect the men under his command but these two thoughts kept him distracted.

            The engineer group reached the light of day and they all sighed a breath of relief. Then one of the workers spotted the rest of the group up ahead fighting for their lives. Joseph and his men rushed to their aid.

            The one injured guard from the mine was placed on the grass as the five workers fought with axes and daggers to fend off strange monsters. The monsters were small and impish with wicked grins and beady black eyes. They had fur on their lower halves and tan leathery skin on their top halves. They wielded small spears and used daggers like swords. The creatures were the size of monkeys and looked like a cross between a money and a goblin. The creatures chattered and grunted out a strange battle cry “Trk trk trk” They grunted. These Tirks were slashing wildly and grabbing at any exposed skin they could find, they would stab their daggers into the unprotected spot.

            Joseph rushed headlong into battle and began hacking with his sword in one hand and used the torch in his other hand to burn the creatures. An axe flew passed Joseph and plunged into a Tirk’s torso, instantly killing the creature. A female worker with blonde hair tied into a ponytail had a deadly aim and a bag full of tools. She had thrown her only weapon but she had several hammers and chisels, which she used to throw and attack with. Many of the workers used their tools along side their basic weapons to fight the overwhelming group of imps.

            Among the chaos Joseph spotted a Tirk with an orange and gold colored gem tied to its back. The Tirk was more frantic than the others and its movements were like that of someone being burned or stabbed with needles. It jerked left and right as it made its way through the group. The gem began to glow and the other Tirks in the battle would abandon their fights to form a wide radius around this gem.

            Joseph saw this and assumed it was some magical gem that the creatures barely understood but knew enough to realize it was dangerous. Fearing that it would harm his workers he charged, dropped his torch and pulled a hammer from his backpack. When Joseph was close enough he struck the Tirk with the gem as hard as he could. The small Imp went flying several feet and was expelled from the clustered battle of workers and imps. One second later the gem unleashed a burst of flames in a two-foot radius. The Tirk carrying the gem was turned to ash from the powerful blast of fire. This explosive release of energy scared the remaining Tirks causing them to flee the fight.

            The battle had been won but Joseph had the unpleasant job of telling the King about these new creatures and about the mine now being unguarded.

Steel Haven part 1 - Origin of a Great City

The walls of Steel Haven rose high above the land. The humans had achieved great feats with their discovery of steel. The stone castles of kings and lords were impressive but most people could only rely on the protection of wooden homes. The lower class needed to be protected from the harsh world of deadly animals and roaming bandits, and so King Alexander Chalybs decided it was his burden to protect as many people as he could.

King Alexander had a grand vision for a new city surrounded by steel walls as tall as any castle and thicker than a stonewall. The city would be a welcoming place to those friendly to the King and his people but would be a threatening fortress to those who sought to do harm.

The city fortress of Steel Haven did not spring up overnight, it took years of dedication and vision. King Chalybs, who became known as the King of Steel, led his own Kingdom to this goal. Many villagers and lower class left their own kingdoms and traveled for months just for the chance to be allowed access into the city. People were arriving to Steel Haven even before the city was complete.

King Chalybs was inspired by the work and the devotion of the people. He saw the new arrivals as a testament that his vision was pure and good. Any family that wished to live in the city had to contribute in some way. Men and women could choose which profession was best suited for their talents and so, Steel Haven had an enormous labor force of workers, builders, black smiths, metal workers, cooks, hunters, cleaners and any other job that needed to be done.

A giant forge was built first before anything else. The forge was a large source of heat surrounded by every kind of metal working tool available in those times. Everything was housed in an open-air structure and the best metal workers worked tirelessly around this scorching hot forge. The great forge was put to use just as it was finished and from that moment it was considered the heart of Steel Haven. 

Not everything in Steel Haven was made of steel or metal, most of the homes and buildings were built with stone and wood with steel used to reinforce the structures. The great walls of Steel haven were made from steel, as was most of the Steel Haven Keep that the king lived in. The Great forge was almost completely sheltered in steel. 

As time passed and the city grew, the citizens were restricted from going to the forge unless authorized to do so. Six foot high walls were build around the forge and guards were placed at the small gate door in the front. This didn’t seem unreasonable to the citizens of Steel Haven, as they all knew how important the Forge was.

After only a year the city was completed. The wall had not been finished yet but every important building was built as was enough homes for every family who helped in some way. The King left his own castle and moved into Steel Haven Keep. The Kings old castle was converted into a military structure, which housed his best and most loyal soldiers and his top general.

Steel Haven finally had fully built walls by the second year, completely made from steel with battlements atop the walls, walkways, guard towers and every other security measure a castle wall could have. The large gates were well protected by a draw bridge that went over a deep moat, a solid steel gate and a second gate used to trap intruders. Steel forge keep also had a smaller but still formidable wall that separated it from the rest of the city.

This newly finished city of Steel Haven would force to reckon with and the news of its creation spread throughout the land. The more the news spread, the more people wanted to move there. The more people that moved into the city the larger the city grew. After several years the city was twice the size of the original Steel Haven with Steel Haven Keep and the first part of the city known as the “Steel Core” and every new structure and home was built outside of the Core’s walls. Only the citizens and their families that helped with the original construction were allowed to live in the Core of the city behind its sturdy walls. 

Eventually the outer city grew so much that new walls were made to protect that section as well. Any attacker who wished to assault the Steel Keep would have to make their way through the Steel Haven outer wall, through New Steel city, then passed the Core’s giant walls, through Steel Core city, then breach the Steel Keep’s walls and then breach the keep itself. No one ever invaded Steel Haven.

The forested area around Steel Haven was maintained by the city but was greatly thinned. The forest was once dense and filled with wild animals. Wood was needed for the city and much of the woods were clear cut, when the King saw his people clearing the local forest his ordered them to only thin it out but to leave the forest standing as a whole. 

Twenty miles north of Steel haven was the coast, where the King’s men would barter with sea fairing merchants for goods. To the south of Steel Haven was an enormous iron mine, this mine was one of many sources of steel for the Kingdom and each mine was well guarded.

The Kingdom of Chalybs and the fortress city of Steel Haven were the envy of the surrounding Kingdoms and while many of the neighboring lands wanted peace and friendship with King Chalybs, there were those who only wanted Steel Haven for themselves.

Winter for Conspirators Part 2

            Delana ruled over Jillian’s heart in the way that Jillian ruled over the battlefield. She fought with her soft green eyes and red hair, her summer dresses and talent for making Jill blush.  Delana was always the first one to turn any situation into a joke and loved to laugh. The only time Jillian ever saw Delana cry was on their last day together when Delana, frightened by the power of the Vanguard, made Jill choose between her or the Vanguard armor.

            The Vanguard now fought for her life in the fortress of the deceased General Durm. Every soldier in the meeting room rushed the Ebon knight while a servant boy ran to alert the rest of the soldiers in the keep. News of General Durm’s death spread like fire and soon the entire fortress had transformed into a hive of angry bees.

            Blood painted the walls with each swing of the Vanguard’s axe. Jillian wielded her two-handed battle-axe with both hands. She would normally flail her large weapon around with one hand but her rash decision making led to a very dire situation and she would need her full effort to escape alive.

            Axes, spears and swords charged into the small room, stabbing, thrusting and slashing at the demon knight. Jillian had incredible reflexes, speed and strength but was so surrounded that even she couldn’t avoid taking damage. Blood began to trickle from the gaps in her armor, spotting the floor and mixing with the pool of soldier blood forming at her feet.

            She rushed forward with her axe, he eyes burning red and her black armor lit up with fiery runes. Her helmet was still on the table from the meeting minutes before. Jillian reached for the helmet as she pushed her way through the room and the helmet jumped into her outstretched hand. She slammed her helmet over her head causing more runes to scrawl across the armor. The Vanguard began emitting a blazing heat as well and the soldiers felt like they were fighting next to a roaring bonfire.

            Through the enchantments of the armor, the wearer is always stronger when wearing the complete set. Now that Jillian had her helmet she was even more of an unnatural force. The Vanguard swung her axe back and forth as she pushed forward. Each axe swing was like a farmer cutting down wheat for the harvest, each harvest a bloody soldier.

            Jillian’s blood stopped dripping from the armor and instead was being absorbed by the black enchanted metal. Her blood was feeding the power of the Vanguard armor and the more wounded she became, the stronger she grew. The armor fed on the blood of its host and of the victims as their bodies fell. The armor wasn’t keeping Jillian alive in any way and she could die from blood loss if she wasn’t careful. When she reached her peak frenzy, she would stop feeling pain and only rage would exist in her mind.

            Corpses tumbled down the stairs into the main room of the keep as the Vanguard tore through the ranks of Durm Fortress. The Vanguard was like a nightmare made real, a demon pulled from the earth to smite the human race and still the soldiers fought on. The soldiers didn’t know of General Durm’s treachery, they didn’t know that the Vanguard was indeed hired by the King and so they thought they were fighting a great evil. They fought and died for their King and land and Jillian didn’t have the time or mental capacity to explain otherwise.

            “You are a monster!” Shouted a terrified soldier as he slashed wildly with his sword. Most of the slices clanked uselessly against the Vanguard’s powerful armor but the sword strikes that hit between the gaps made Jillian bleed her life force down into the greedy maw of the dark armor.

“You’re a monster” Cried another voice. This wasn’t a soldier, it was a voice inside Jillian’s head. Delana sat crumpled over on the grass as she sobbed. “You’re a monster” she cried. That was the first time Jillian went into a frenzy.

Jillian blacked out and when she came to her senses she had massacred a group of militiamen.

Several of the militia had been too forceful while trying to flirt with Delana. Jillian arrived on the scene to see her love struggling to leave as the men pulled on Delana’s arm and laughed. Jillian blacked out and in her frenzy carved them all up and her armor drank their blood. When Jillian heard Delana call her a monster she was struck with a pain that she had not felt before or since.

Jillian had been hurt in a thousand different ways since that day and hearing Delana’s words was still the worst thing she experienced.

            The sadness of that moment tore through her mind like daggers and the rage in Jillian swelled. The loneliness, the heartache and the loss would all be rolled into a ball of anger and forced onto the soldiers of Durm’s fortress who thought they were fighting for their King.

            The Vanguard made it out of the keep and into the courtyard when her blood loss began to slow her movements. Archers rained arrows down from the guard towers set up along the walls. “Close the gates!” Shouted the captain of the guards. The soldiers surrounded Jillian as the arrows continued to fall. The Vanguard lashed out with slow powerful axe swings, each swing sent out a burst of flames that would burn up arrows and scorch exposed skin. Magical flames would burst out from the runes on the armor with each step the Vanguard took. The armor wasn’t sentient but the magic in the armor was enhanced by blood and at that moment the armor was drenched in it.

            Jillian’s vision started to blur as she rushed forward. Jillian stopped moving but the armor continued expelling bursts of flames from everywhere and her axe burned with molten heat. The Vanguard was drenched in blood, covered in wounds, with arrows sticking out of her. The soldiers began to feel that they won and began to cheer.

Then the Vanguard shook and launched forward in a dead sprint. The dark knight moved like a bolt of lighting, ran straight into the gate and collided into the massive door with enough force to cause a shockwave. A loud boom and a shockwave was sent up into the archer towers toppling the soldiers from their perch. The Gate cracked open just enough and the Vanguard continued its mad dash to escape. A giant hole was torn through the metal gate, the edges of the hole were burnt from heat, bent back and curled up as if the metal was as flexible as clay.

Durm fortress was left in ruin, trails of bodies and smearing of blood ran through the halls. The Vanguard was nowhere to be seen. That was the historic day in the Kingdom when the record number of soldiers, knights, guards and servants all quit their post at the same time.

            The treachery against the King never came to pass and without General Durm the conspirators disbanded. The King publicly denounced the actions of the Vanguard but was secretly grateful for disposing of General Durm and those loyal to him.

            As for the Vanguard, she never reported in to the King, she never spoke to his advisor and no one in that Kingdom reported seeing a fierce black knight.

While the legend of the Vanguard would grow in that land for years to come, the fate of the actual Jillian Cole would remain a mystery.

Absent Fantasy

Words fill my head like a stream, a river of consciousness, the thoughts flow. My waterfall of thought crashes against the rocks of depression only to end there. The thoughts are destroyed and motivation banished. Words mean so little to me these days. I say them and feel nothing. No rainbows and giant trees, orcs and trolls are absent from the strange lands that my mind used to inhabit. The world of fantasy is empty and I am left alone in an empty field with gray skies. When the world of fantasy starts to look bleak then I begin to live more in the real world. My mind and my time are spent longer and longer in the real world. Bills, responsibilities, pain, depression attack from all sides, but the real world has beauty in it too, love, friendship, excitement and deeper sights and smells than my fantasy world ever had. I the rich smell of wood smoke and the feel of an autumn breeze exist in the real world but they are passing experiences. So I hold them tight and steal them away in through the door of fantasy. I grab as much of these experiences as I can but when they get into my world of fantasy they don’t have the same splendor. The imagined autumn tree has become flat and the rich fragrance of wood smoke is nothing but a wisp of a memory.

            My fantasy world used to take a tree and create a forest. One unique tree could even inspire an entire story. The tree could be ugly, strange or beautiful, it didn’t matter. Whenever I saw something so unique that I felt it didn’t belong in the real world I would steal it, I would take it to join the fantasy in my mind. In my fantasy world trees could talk if they were ancient enough, regular people could be heroes or villains, cats were magical, well more magical than in real life, and I could be free.

            I feel like my world has started to mirror the never-ending story. The nothing consumed the Never Ending storybook and destroyed the wondrous creatures that lived there. I feel that the Nothing has come for my fantasy world and it makes me nervous. Though I hope that this absence of fantasy is temporary. Maybe the Nothing didn’t consume my fantasy world, but instead I have become too tainted by stress and the real world to see the fantasy before my eyes. The fantasy creatures that once lived in my world still exist, but I just cannot see them. I miss them. I write about characters like Pumpkin Jack, the Gravedigger, Hobbs, the Vanguard, those hundreds of characters named Joseph and Jack, the lands like Hallows end, Bokro, Dark town and autumn carnival, I write about these people and places but I can’t see them as much anymore. I used to be able to picture them so clearly as if they stood in front of me but now I write about them from memory of what I think they would do and say. I miss them and I don’t know how to return to the worlds I once created. This is not the first time I have felt distant from my stories, but it might be one of the longest times I have gone without writing, or without visiting the fantasyland in my imagination.

            I am sure there are plenty of people who would be confused or not understand the severity of what I am talking about, some might think I am insane and lost my grip with reality, sadly I have not, I know all too well what reality is. To dream makes us human and the capacity for fantasy is one of greatest gift you could have. Children have the capacity for fantasy and the live half in fantasy and half in reality, but parents either choose not to nurture this gift or they straight out destroy it. Some people die but continue to walk through life thinking they are alive. This society is not made for dreamers and artists, this world is cold and hard and you have to look for the good and the warm. Every human has to search for the good in life and some never find it.

            In my opinion, the nicest thing you could do for someone is make them a meal and tell them a story. 

Where do your Dreams go?

            Where do your dreams go when you die?

I have never been one to fear death. I’ve led a life of hardships and pain, both physical and emotional. My life has not been all bad but my worst experiences could be written and sold as horror stories. When nightmares consume your childhood what is so fearsome about death? Nothing. Death scares the young and the healthy. People have their reasons why they want to live but the real reason is primitive survival. The human brain in all of its complexity still operates from basic desires. A human wants to live so that it can reproduce and make more humans. All species need this urge to survive. Growing up sick and in pain alters your brain. Its natures way of saying “You wont reproduce so death is ok. You are allowed to die” This might sound cruel but anyone who has seen a nature documentary will know its true. Nature effects humans just the same as it effects animals.

            I am now afraid to die and strive to live. One day I found a light in the darkness. It was a boundless imagination that led me to my love of fantasy. I played in the fictional worlds of others. Humans created video games and books, they used their brains for something more than basic desires. They created these worlds and I was lost and entranced. In these worlds the hero won, the darkness could be fought and if you believe hard enough nothing can stop you. Memories of life funneled through creative process and turned into dreams. The Dreams written down and turned into fiction and the fiction sold and consumed. Once consumed the fiction is released back into dreams and stimulates the mind. The mind then begins to create its own dreams and its own fiction. What if that tree was sixty feet tall and contained an entire village of elves? Its not sixty feet tall and only birds live in it, but what if? What if the world was a better and more magical place? What if people got along? What if trying your best actually made a difference? The thoughts in your brain turn and focus. Your experiences color both your fantasy and reality. How you perceive people depends on how you were raised just like if I told you to imagine a drugtor you might think of something totally different than someone else. Others may just realize Drugtor is a word I just made up and not bother imagining anything.

            So where DO dreams go when you die? And why does my ability to imagine a dragtor make me want to live?

            Well I honestly do not know where dreams go and that is why I fear death. In my head I have my memories, story ideas, characters, dreams, goals and a whole library of random animal trivia. Its precious to me, I can recall times that I spent with my friends or family, moments long since passed that my brain keeps preserved for as long as I live. Happy moments and memories that make me smile to this day. I can create fictional worlds and characters in a day, I can imagine those places and if I close my eyes I can see every single place I have ever written about. I fear death because when a person dies, what happens to those precious memories and all of the stories they haven’t written yet? My fear is that they simply go away forever.

            Great authors through the ages wrote stories that are still read and enjoyed hundreds of years later, but what happened to the stories they didn’t write? All of the possible life they could have breathed into the world is now gone. All that remains is their stories, echoes of a mind that could create anything out of nothing.

            I do not fear not existing, not breeding, not being able to eat hamburgers, I fear not being able to tell stories.

            So what if I had to answer to my own question? What if I just wrote a happy ending? What if?

            When you die your dreams live on with you. The stories you wrote continue to entertain the living but all of the worlds you create in your head, the characters that are all secretly part of your own personality, your dreams, your wishes and all of the memories you hold so dear from your life, they go with you. They all travel with you to the next world.  a world of peace and happiness and a world where the heroes won, the darkness could be fought and if you believe hard enough nothing can stop you.

Clash of Reality part 1

            Jacob sat on the soft green grass with his back against a large oak tree. The gentle spring breeze felt nice on his face and the smell of flowers was everywhere. Despite being in such a serene setting, Jacob’s mind kept drifting back.

            The clash of steel and the roar of battle still echoed in his ears. Jacob was looking into the peaceful blue sky, but he was seeing battle. His memories would fade in and out, replacing the present with the past. Jacob didn’t live in some war-torn medieval age, he lived in a peaceful modern world. a world of computers and advanced medicine. There was no reason to be truly unhappy, those who complained must be doing so for attention, or because they didn’t realize how wonderful life was.

            Jacob sighed. He enjoyed the nice weather, the sound of chirping birds and having access to food whenever he needed it. He appreciated the advanced medicine and the high tech computers that everyone loved so dearly. Despite all of this he felt disconnected. He felt lonely, weak and worst of all, bored.

            Depression isn’t sadness, its depression is numbness, it is advanced boredom. When there is no way to prove yourself, when the type of skills you have aren’t valued in society, then there is nothing to do. If you can’t challenge your brain than what is the point of having one?

            Jacob was outside because he was trying to reconnect with the world. He was trying to embrace this ‘reality’ everyone talked so highly about. Besides the weather and an occasional friendly face, reality wasn’t much to brag about.

            It would be so easy to back to the battle. It would be so simple to just turn it back on, to be needed and loved, to have purpose. Jacob only had to sit at his computer and turn on his game. He could disappear from a harsh unforgiving reality and spend his time in the game. It would be so easy….

            Jacob knew his habits and he knew that if he started playing competitively again he would get drawn in. The virtual world would consume him and he would let it.

            He didn’t know why he even cared. Jacob stared out as people walked by. He watched these people conducting their lives and they seemed so normal. They knew something that Jacob didn’t. he was missing something about reality that made it so great.

            These passing people never talked to Jacob, people rarely spoke to him. Maybe they were all just NPCs and life is just like the game he played. Jacob shook his head and slapped his face. “No! I am not going down that road….I don’t need to be called crazy. Along with all of the other things people call me” Jacob said out loud. Luckily no one heard him.

            Jacob tried to reach out in the past. He went out of his way more than any of his brothers or co-workers did. Jacob tried so hard to be ‘normal’ to connect with other humans the way he was supposed to.

“WHY is this so hard?!” Jacob shouted in his room. On his way home from the park he tried again to connect. He tried talking to a person at the coffee shop, he tried talking to a guy on the bench. He even saw some people from his college and tried to talk to them. It always ended the same. Not only did he not make a connection  but most people seemed completely disinterested with his existence.

            Jacob was a young man who went to college and had a part time job. To an outsider he seemed normal like everyone else, but no one could see his struggle to connect.

            After another round of disappointment Jacob decided to play his game for a little. Just a little. He turned on his computer and booted up the game. The old familiar song and graphics came onto the screen. He felt a sigh of relief. The comfort of the game kept him going and helped heal his tired soul after a long day of ‘reality’.

            In the game, Jacob was known as Soul Shadow a high leveled Dark Elf Ranger. He played online with millions of people around the world and had more people on his friends list than he had actual friends. In the game he never had a problem connecting to people, they all had at least one thing in common, liking the game.

            In the game he had a chance to be heroic and kind, he could help people and fight evil. He wasn’t the most powerful player and he was restrained by in game rules like everyone else, but he still felt more free and powerful than he had ever felt in his real life.

As soon as Jacob signed online his closest friend Ayla messaged him. She was a girl around his age that liked many of the same things that he liked. The only problem was that she lived in another country.

Ayla: Soul! I haven’t seen you in forever. The new expansion boss didn’t scare you off, did he? ;)

Soul: No way! I just had boring life stuff to do. Don’t you worry. I just need to upgrade my armor and I will ready to party up

Ayla: Glad to hear it, the guild was asking about you. Also I missed our nightly talks.

Ayla:…I mean raids! Talking and raiding, ya know. The normal stuff…

The two of them would carry on like that for hours as they played the game. Sometimes they would do in game quests alone and sometimes they would join a party together and run through dungeons.

            As time passed Jacob started playing the game more and more. He and Ayla had grown close over the years too. When they weren’t playing the game they were talking on their video chat messaging system. Jacob didn’t know Ayla’s real name but he knew she was a real girl and a very pretty one at that. She was the first person he could connect with outside of the game, though it was because of the game that he met her in the first place.

            Life just seemed better when Jacob played the game and when he wasn’t playing he just wanted to spend his time with Ayla. Everything else was just a distraction.

            Jacob still went to work, he took classes and did homework. He maintained his life but every free moment was devoted to two loves, the game and his online crush Ayla.

Maze Mind

            My mind winds like a maze, twisting and going off in every direction. Solutions can be found but only through the most complicated thought process. Some never make it past the front door, others die halfway through. I sometimes get stuck in my own maze, losing track of time and forgetting why I even came there in the first place.

            The maze is filled with things. Fantasy creatures, trees, rain, autumn days and snowy nights by the fireplace. Cats wander through freely, never getting lost and always comfortable wherever they end up. Dead ends are a regular occurrence, often with walls made from distractions, bright lights, colors, catchy music, doubt and painkillers.

            The twisting halls could be considered beautiful and complex but I find them tiring and most find them annoying. Point A does not always lead to point B even though I wish it could.

            Stephen sits and talks to a friend. “So I brought my cat to the vet, she has bad teeth, anyway, so I got her all checked out and her teeth cleared, the vet was like 800 dollars for the whole operation. (That’s too much detail). So yeah I was pretty nervous about paying that much (Stop talking so much, get to the point. They stopped listening) oh! So anyway I spent all my money on the Vet, my cat is doing fine by the way, so do you think I could borrow a few dollars for gas?”….

Conversations spiral out of control and the more I talk the more nervous I get. I get lost in my own mind, the maze gets bigger and the walls grow higher. (Didn’t I come through this way already? Did I just repeat myself for the third time?). Point of the story, the point of the conversation. What is the point of my thought? Was there a point? Is my brain just giving me words to fill the empty space in between events?

            When a slow song about missing someone comes on the radio and I immediately blurt out “Oh this reminds me of a video game” people look at me funny. If I led them through the path that started from sad song to video game it would make sense but most don’t have the energy for it and those that try tend to get lost. Others use their own guidelines, their brain uses its own logic to navigate my Maze. But I doubt their mind is built like mine, so often they give up. When I do finally find a way through it seems the journey wasn’t even worth the trouble. One person knows how this one song, reminds me of this one video game. But they don’t care and I wasted energy.

            A dead end of doubt is added to my maze.

The Beast and the rain

The rage of the Beast was fierce as it always had been. Abandoned by the world and left alone in the wilderness the Beast spent its days in a dark cave hidden away from sight. Roars echoed through the stone tunnels as the Beast thrashed around his dwelling. The Beast slammed its powerful fists into a stone pillar smashing it to pieces and lashed out at the stone wall with its razor sharp claws, adding another set of marks to an already torn up wall.

The source of the rage was long forgotten and buried down into the creature’s soul. The words were lost but the gnawing pain remained. It ate at the Beast so feverously that anything could set the creature off into a frenzy.

Despite the loud roars and sound of crumbling stone, the faintest noise reached the Beast’s ear, the sound of rain. The Beast stopped terrorizing the cave walls and its eyes relaxed. Sadness washed over its face as it slowly walked toward the mouth of the cave. Its two hind legs made loud soft ‘pat pat’ noises against the stone floor.

Outside was a beautiful forest, rich green trees rising up ten feet or more from the soft soil. A winding river went through the forest like a snake adding the reflective touch of water to an already scenic landscape. This scenery was lost on the Beast most of the time. The Beast never came out of its cave during the day and it only surfaced at night to hunt. Large monsters rarely have patience to admire a tree. Day or night, when it rained, the Beast surfaced from the depths and stood in the mouth of it’s cave and it would stare at the rain.

The pouring rain added a different kind of beauty to the forest. Replacing the sparkling river waters and the illuminated green leaves with a calm cloudy sky and the gentle hush of raindrops. It was a mystery why The Beast changed its behavior when it rained, The Beast didn’t even know. It would stare puzzled up at the sky and watch rain fall from nowhere and little the landscape. The constant steady drum of raindrops hitting leaves was hypnotizing and The Beast fell into a trance.

In a daze The Beast sat down on the cold ground and put its hands over its face, its long clawed fingers stretching up over its head and its rounded snout sticking out from between its palms. As the fury and pain seemed to subside The Beast began to shrink. The horn ridges on its back slowly faded away and the thick dark gray fur began to recede back into The Beasts body. After several minutes The Beast had transformed into a man.

The Man had dark gray hair and a thin face with narrowed eyes and nose, like a wolf. He opened his eyes like he had just woken from a dream. As he looked himself over all the memories and deep buried feelings came rushing back. The questions that eluded the Beast were now all answered in the mind of the man. He knew everything that happened, why, when and how it all happened. He couldn’t stand it and began to sob. The rain poured down and drowned out the sounds of the man crying.

There was something about the rain that tied him to his humanity, a single piece that wasn’t corrupted by rage. The rain brought this out of The Beast and it would transform.. The Beast was its true form and the man was an echo of its past. A man so consumed with rage that he willingly became a beast to hide the pain away.

The day turned to night and the raining stopped. The man lay curled into a ball. He had a choice, every time it rained he had a chance to remember and to choose to stay with those memories as a human and every time he willed himself back into a Beast.

In the deep dark woods on a cloudy night a large Beast stalked the forest.

The Harrowing Storm Part 1

Here is this weeks story, sorry its late. also there wasn't a story last week. I was sick...again. but a little thing like the hospital isn't going to stop me from writing the stories i love.

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In Castle Harrow, owned by Lord Harrow, was a young man named Arthur Harrow. The castle was built on land given to the Harrow family for their years of service to the king of the land. Young Arthur was a knight and at an early age completed his knight training two years faster than other noble children from the surrounding areas. Arthur was as charismatic as he was strong. This combination served well both as a fighter and as a noble. He often impressed his father’s friends with clever remarks or insight into the world. Though seeming wise and worldly, Arthur had never been in a real battle nor had he left the castle more than a few times. Usually he only left the castle to go to other castles with his father. All his learning was from books, royal messengers and castle gossip.

The kingdom thrived, as did the Harrow land. Besides the castle, the land had a very small village. The village was useful for farming, trading and being a buffer between travelers and the castle. Lord Harrow didn’t need to feel bad for turning away lost travelers from his castle when there was a perfectly good village just down the hill. Arthur had been taught to look after the village and in turn the village would provide a service to the castle. Since Arthur would one day take over the piece of land, he needed to know important things like managing a castle and dealing with advisors or the village elder. Though Lord Harrow looked after his people, it wasn’t because he was nicer than most nobles, it was simply because he had to protect his investments. His castle looked after the village in the way a gardener looks after a fruit orchard. So Arthur learned not to get too attached to any of the villagers, as it would be strange if a farmer was attached to an apple tree. Everything had its place.

One day, while talking with his father, a messenger brought word that a villager had died, they found the body in the forest torn apart by an animal. This was probably the work of wolves and this wasn’t the first time either. It was said that the poor fool went missing last night, but because of a storm that same night no one could go look for him until morning. Lord Harrow ordered any wolves or wild animals near the village be killed. In a situation like this villagers experienced with hunting would be paid by the Lord to kill the dangerous animals. Arthur thought the situation was a little strange, as he never heard of a wolf attacking someone during a storm, on top of that, no adult would go out into a dangerous forest at night, when a storm approached. The villagers knew better. Though this was all strange, it could just as easily been wolves, so he dismissed the thought from his mind.

As time passed the reports of dead villagers continued, there was even talk of the deaths being caused by a monster. Lord Harrow dismissed these claims, saying that just because the hunters couldn’t find and kill this wild beast they make up stories about a monster so as not to bruise their pride and peasants will believe anything. The deaths weren’t taken too seriously either, because on average a villager would go missing every couple weeks. Three or four missing peasants wasn’t call for alarm, especially in such a dangerous time. Arthur remembered his father say one time over lunch. “When I was a young lord, I remember when we would lose three or four peasants a week”

The trend continued though, it was always when it rained and always at night and the tale of the monster became more descriptive and talked about. Much more concerned than his father, Arthur went out to the village to talk to some locals. After a few minutes of villagers bowing and groveling when they saw Arthur, he was eventually able to get some answers out of them. As a side note, Arthur didn’t really enjoy the groveling peasants as much as his father did. After talking with everyone he could find, he learned that the stories matched up and some had even seen the beast, or rather beasts. Whenever it rained, shadow creatures that moved like apes came into the village. They were a little shorter than humans, but had glowing purple eyes. Purple eyes that would shine out of the mist and rain, then before you knew it, someone was being dragged into the forest to be devoured. It sounded like a nightmare, and unfortunately for the villagers, it was all too real.

Arthur returned to the castle and tried to persuade his father to send extra protection to the village when it rained. Even if it wasn’t the work of monsters, something was killing people. After being refused repeatedly by his father, Arthur took upon himself to investigate. There was going to be a big storm coming in three days, biggest it had been in a while. So Arthur gathered, weapons and some armor and tried to make a plan. He would wait that night in the village and see for himself what really was attacking the village, then he would put a stop to it. Arthur, fitted his armor with straps so he could carry a crossbow, two swords, a throwing axe and a shield, as well as dagger he kept in his boot. He would be ready to fight a bear, a pack of wolves or if need be, shadow monsters. The time had come to see what Arthur was made of and see if he could truly protect his land.