Despair and Panic

2012-02-08T18:15:00.002-02:00

2011-04-14T14:57:00.001-03:00

2011-03-11T13:07:00.001-03:00

2010-12-06T23:34:00.001-02:00

Random thoughts about a Blood Mage

2010-06-03T06:31:00.003-03:00

Diary of a children without parents.

My name is Isaru, the Sorcerer. I'm no fancy hero or Grey Warden, my interests lies shorter than saving the world from the blight. Oh, how rude. Let me tell a little of myself and you will understand more of my cause.
I'm a bastard. I was born from Tereza and Algustin, a mage and a templar. Their relationship could be more accurately described as a prostitute and a sorry addict. My father was also a bastard, literally and in other more subtle aspects. My mother was a whore as well as a mage of the Circle of Ferelden. The Headmaster and the Knight-Commander Templar were both younger and thought her love real and my father's... enthusiasm towards her a true feeling of the heart.
As you can see I was allowed to be brought into this world, against thousands of odds. Lyriun poisoning should had made Algustin sterile and senile, but it miraculously didn't. He had a strange affinity to the thing, as did my dear mother. Besides the poisoning that ran deep in the blood of my family there was also the matter of my conception.
Of course, nothing is as easy as unconcerned sex and whatever was the reason that drove the universe into pairing the two imbeciles that were to be my parents, I guarantee that that is a joke the universe shares with no one else. You'd expect that any mongrel could easily fathom that banging your dealer in the stockroom isn't as safe as it sounds, and wearing your armor will not make things better. I am the result. I should know.
Everyone feels regret, few are born from it. The stupid couple didn't planned for a child to come from that little intimacy, but I never really cared that much for planning myself ahead of others so I came nine months latter anyway.
At my very first breath both my parents pleaded to kill me, but the Headmaster wouldn't allow murder to happen within the halls. He and the Commander Templar tried the baby for magical aptitude and in case it couldn't become a mage it would be turned into a tranquil. The experiment thrilled him, the old bastard. But I scored marvelously, even too much I dare to say. My blood was specialized at resisting the effects of Lyriun and even at a young age I had a knack for the gift.
Stupidities aside, I had an ultimate luck to be born inside the Circle of Magi. My hunger for everything arcane knew no bounds and I could bounce from one book to another faster than you'd take to read the tittle. I'm no genius however. I had to count with the will of a demigod to protect me from my second heritable defect; stupidity. It wasn't easy, but a dumb person can become smarter if he really wishes to. Wishing was also what I did best.
That way it was inevitable that I'd be done reading the apprentice's library in few years of life and sooner than later I took my Horrowing. Now that's a tale to tell. It was midnight of my birthday many years ago. I had achieved adulthood the same day...

The topside of the mage's tower was dark cold. Shadows dancing at the light of liquid Lyriun, the very essence of mana and a gateway to the Fade. As of custom the apprentice stood besides the Lyriun and a group of Templars, mage hunters, took place at arm's reach, at the smallest sight of danger they'd be given the order to strike down the young one. A grim perspective and yet widely accepted between senior Mages and Enchanters because the other alternative could be the release of an abomination.
-An abomination is a mage possessed by a demon of the fade. Extremely dangerous and mad, the creature can use arcane powers of his former life augmented by the demonic will controlling it's body to wrack magical havoc whenever it goes. -The first enchanter was briefing the meaning of the ritual to the young pupil, who in place was scared of failure, death or worse.
-That's why there are so many Templars today. To watch over you and guarantee you do not fail, young apprentice. -There was something truly vicious about the knight-commander's voice and the apprentice was not shocked at the sight of the Templar's hatred for mages. It was commonplace among the Circle of Magi. Nonetheless, his words were mostly lies.
Any five years old understood the relationship between the Templar and the Circle and wasn't any secret that that particular student had his back watched ten times fold. Many had argued with the first enchanter to make the boy tranquil, even some within the Circle, but Dariano had his purposes for the mage in training and today was the day he'd prove himself.
The boy, Isaoru, gave brief nod to the headmaster and marched towards the Lyriun. He never touched the thing before, “too dangerous” they'd say, even refined Lyriun was out of his reach. The feeling the young apprentice had at the exact moment his hand sank in the silver bowel is impossible to describe in words. Overall sensation of pleasure, a mixture of hunger and rage and a deepest sensation of the most unforgiving pride.

Ears exploded at the sound of the tearing Veil. A Templar started crying and another desperately wanted to claw his way off of his own armor. Madness sank deep into the other mages and they mutated, twisted as their flesh became abhorrent and their head shattered like fine crystal.
The headmaster was the first to rally a counterattack with two of the remaining mages. They fought bravely against the demonic influence of the Fade, trying to seal the Veil once more without any hope of success.
The knight-commander and most of the Templar didn't perish at the first weave and quickly formed positions to fight back the upcoming invasion of demons and abominations. Their tactical expertise was flawless and ruthless, with alacrity they formed a perimeter around the mages and began to push back. In mere moments there were no demons to see and the chamber was sealed away.
After a break to regain their breath, Templar and Circle Mages began to voice their ideas. Two in special, the Enchanter Edmond and the knight-commander Edmond, were making a ruckus of it.
-Dariann! You can't possibly think of using the Rite of Annulment on the entire Circle Tower!
-I have all the right to do so, Edmond! That wasn't an isolated incident, the Veil is broken wide open and demons could swarm the tower at any moment!
-You fool! The Veil will not seal without the use of powerful magic! We must gather-
-Enough! -Cried the headmaster with a thundering voice that boomed over all others. -We can't destroy the Circle Tower, it would just make things worse. Right now our first priority is to reform our most powerful wards and hope for the best. If we fail I will be counting on you to slay me, my friend.
Dariann gave a slight nod to the headmaster and began to rally every Mage and Templar remaining.

It wasn't night like before. There was clearly a sun over his head or was it a moon? Too bright for day or too dark for night. Should it be the other way around?
Isaoru head was spinning and his body was liquid pain. He remembered a tower, a demon and blood, oh so much blood...
His fingers touched, in fact, the bloodied face of a mutilated Templar at that moment and with a loud cry he pried his hands away. Fear began to strike his bones and head, full

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Presentation: On Blood Magic

“Power is somewhat inconspicuous, very hard to hold with material hands. Few can claim they hold true power and only by mind they are able to do so.”
The powerful mind is willful and its desire is able to change the shape of reality to a minimal extent. It's that same willpower that link mortals and demons together and beyond the Veil of the Fade. Unaware of this fact an unsupervised gifted children could create fiery chaos just wishing for a warmer night, thus the need for the circle and the fear of Apostates.

In the sight of adversity only a mage is able to devise the most terrible and brilliant alternatives the world can ever witness. I once heard of a man, a Grey Warden named Avernus, that devised a way to empower himself against demons using tainted blood and Blood Magic. I heard histories of forgotten warriors inside inescapable soul-prisons and humans turning human lives into raw magic to enter the fade. Can you imagine? Just like in the older Tevinter Empire when man touched god.

Do I use Blood Magic? I do. I love it, actually. Vicious entropic art that manipulates mind, body and soul to create, recreate and claim others creations. Beautiful.
Of course there is more to it than just my twisted taste for power, it is also the key for my survival. I was born with a strange and supernatural disease alongside my magical gift. My body produces non-lethal small amounts of raw Lyriun and if unused I will die of poisoning, but since its diluted on my body I have no choice but to drain drops of my own blood to sustain my magical powers. And it hurts likes bugs crawling inside my skin. My research into Blood Magic allows me to control a part of myself and use it more wisely to extend my already shortened life-spam.

Frowning at the uncharismatic smell of sewer and poverty he couldn't hope but to get away from that place as quick as possible. Going back into civilization had always been hard to Alecto. The road had always presented some difficulties but none he couldn't manage himself around with a trick or two. In Deneri he hadn't all that skill at hand, to work on that many at once was dangerous.
He paced quickly to get away from the street and came inside the first establishment on sight's range.

There's a place called Fade which house dreams and wishes and where everything is possible. Inside that chaotic realm lies the birthplace of magical insight, spirits and feelings and the city of our Maker and creator of everything. The same city that cursed creation with numberless Darkspawn.

The call inside his body was strong again, pulling away from his heart and painfully stretching every blood vessel from his head to his toes. Magic and Alecto where old friends from way back and they bravely fought alongside ever since he left Aeonar behind, but his gift was also a curse of never ending pain and side-effects.

A sudden pulse of pain made Alecto carelessly drop the charcoal on the wet soil.
Damnation, this cannot continue for long he thought in between flashes of anguish. Such profanity was the pain made of that no remedy on the face of Ferelden could cure the boy's nightmare, thus giving him insomnia, panic attacks and a reckless almost-insane behavior. It was of his understanding that that disease was slowly degenerating his body and doing a better job of his mental state. A weak mind was like Ambrosia's Peak, a stronghold with its gates unguarded, and danger linger behind every corner when your thoughts are the prized food of demons and spirits of the Fade. Not a fool, the mage, he understood methods to diminish the pain, but they were by magic and a risk it was to use spells so close to the Circle Tower.
Another flash of tremendous pain and he curled in a ball, his friend toad helplessly watching the demise of Alecto as he sank deep into agony. On that bright night of radiant peace and satisfaction he cried to sleep as the pain made his brain dive into a lucid nightmare.

At the far north of Ferelden, close to Lake Calenhad, there was an Orlesian stronghold hidden by the shroud of time and secrecy, used only and solemnly on the last war against the realm of Orlais it does now rest in ruins. It's name is Ambrosia and many wonders did it held before the Darkspawn of the forth Blight had run it through, killing all those who knew about it's secret location with the exception of a taint maddened wizard.
The mage did ran away from the massacre only to be made captive by a templar patrol and then tragically sent to Aeonar, where, before his painful death, he finally met the last keeper of Ambrosia's Peak. Seated inside the hollow tower the boy with apparent adulthood had at his right side a blind toad and under his eyes bags that portrayed proud insomnia. His very pupils where of a blood red pigmentation as if only to make contrasted with his pale skin, like twin rubies on a marble statue's head.
His name is Alecto Deviccio. He's a Maleficarum and is completely insane. He ranted about magic theory with his toad companion thus proving his mental illness to any would-be imaginary observer.
“You see, magic is not a science nor a battery of unlimited firepower. It is mind's willpower made manifest into the world of living through the head of gifted people, those known as mages. Those that can claim such title have no power of their own beyond a force of will that manipulates the essence of the Veil, that which divide our world from the Fade. That willful power has many names but I decided to call it the Sense of Arcane or just Arcane Sense.”
The faithful frog that seated besides Alecto was slightly bloating as he, only now, noticed the presence of a firefly nearby. Turning tail to his friend he prepared to the blind jump and a filling dinner.
“What are you doing? You know, sometimes I feel like you don't even care about me.” The toad was completely ignoring the mage as he ranted further so to focus entirely on the firefly, which made the Apostate decide nothing more would fructify from a conversation with him. Giving a brief sigh of hopelessness he than left the bloated toad to it's entertainments.
The hollow tower of Ambrosia's Peak was glowing from the silver light that was the moon's blessing and a sense of peace overcame the Deviccio mage. The bloated toad had finally, after numberless attempts, got the pesky firefly what made the mage truly happy. He saw the small amphibian eating, contempt creeping inside his soul like a fog over a marsh in mid-winder nights which made Alecto feel compelled to write.
With an anxious spark of immediate inspiration he quickly grabbed his cookbook and a piece of charcoal to write down a poem. “Happiness is a blind toad catching a firefly in full moon night.” He than paused to avail what he wrote down on the paper and turned to his trully friend. “What do you think? Too pompous, or too humble?” The toad said nothing but bloated his neck with a cricking sound that resembled a boast. Friendship came in all vials and flasks, he did knew, the mage, and the more special it became the more easy was to communicate, he also did knew. “And I will accept that as a yes” was the mage's answer.

____________________________________________________

Name: Alecto Deviccio.
Age: Mid twenties
Physical characteristics: Hunger – insomnia, pain. Desire – red blood pupils, red thumbnails, slightly bloated blood vessels. Sloth – growing stub, smells. Pride – overzealous care for his own hands, practice of meditation, physically strong.
A tall slim figure with almost 6'1'' and well built body. Food and sleep deprivation are visible yet not alarmingly apparent. A pale sick-like skin enter in contrast with his red eyes and thumbnails, some blood vessels can even been seen under his neck's and arms' skin, which is mostly marked with strange scars. His idle stub grows slowly over a tired face and a smell of mud and sweat follows whenever he goes.
Psychological characteristics: Hunger – power driven, lesser insanity. Sloth – apathy. Pride – arrogance, sarcasm, dryness of feelings.
As a sociopath and mage he behaves with arrogant superiority. There's nothing more important than himself and his righteous search for self understanding, everything else is just the means to reach such goal. Power had played such a key part on this odyssey that Alecto became addict of the control for his surroundings and gets very ill when out of his comfort zone. Putrid and hollow death follows him as does its spirits, which brings an air of dread around only dismissed by daylight. Rage, Dreamer, Glutton, Pride and Wish-for-Name are some of the demons he brought along since his last visit to the Fade and they make all in their capabilities to make it a nuisance to him, mentally and physically.
Abilities: On magic – Summoning. Death. Earth. Fire. Ice. Mana Alteration. Blood Magic. Battle Magic.

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Near to lake Calenhad there had always been hunters and prey. Since the Circle broke last year, it had been a truer fact than always had. That night was the first night of full moon in the first month of winter. The rays of light were as brightly cold as the caress of a lazy breeze that decided to blow uncaring for others' warmth.
Alecto normally traveled away from towers of mages and templars and hate and imprisonment and death, but that night was a different night and he dared get closer to the lake which partakes name with the First King. The reason was unclear to both mage and his companion, a slightly blind toad with a critical temper.

2010-01-01T21:20:00.000-02:00

2010-01-01T20:16:00.000-02:00

2009-12-29T05:17:00.000-02:00

2009-12-05T20:01:00.001-02:00

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2009-11-28T20:52:00.001-02:00

2009-11-12T08:17:00.001-02:00

2009-11-03T18:04:00.000-02:00

2009-11-03T02:34:00.001-02:00

New Bodaries

2009-06-30T21:10:00.001-03:00

When men and women question the meaning of their lives, who answers it? Gods? Elders? There is no answer for these questions when people needs it. Death, war, plague, hunger and infestations. These are the lands of new Valdec, located north of the former Elsarin kingdom.

These is the upcoming ground of most bloodied conflicts, taking place after the Catastrophe. Some settlements of Valdec mighty army where placed far away from the capital and these places suffered more from the plague and hunger than any other.

Valdec was falling apart, their soldiers perishing to an unknown illness, their people crying for food and desperate for hope. Goes the saying, hope changes everything... And it did.

The ones strong enough to resist the pain and agony caused by the plague started to change, to mutate into something stronger, harder and regenerative. Scales started to grow, fangs started to grow, tails, claws and horns started to grow. These 'abominations' were disposed of society, exiled.

Soon, they started to group together, to realize that their changing was in truth a gift from the dragon gods. They hardly felt pain at all, their bodies regenerated with a swift speed and more importantly, they were immune to this corrosive and cruel plague.

Ssusara had stopped half way from the hospital panting, trying to hide her horn. She did catch her breath in time and started running again just a little before the soldiers finding her whereabouts. A cry was heard as one soldier tossed aside a little girl who was taking the last flower back home as a gift for her sick father. Four armored men just walked away, trying not to lose the doctor out of sight again, what was hardly done, since a great fair was taking place right in front of the hospital, the most visited place in these terrible times.

'A woman with shaddy cloths and infected by the plague was here?' Asked the first soldier to a rumble dwarf that was trying to sell some hats and scarfs.

- 'am sorry, 'a saw nothin' of sort. But wouldn' ya like some cold clouthin'? Da winter is almos' upon us, you 'now. - As the soldier quickly dismissed the dwarfs services, he went to mutter with the others about Ssusaras scape, shortly leaving after that.

The old dwarf muttered something and went inside his tent, taking two scarfs with him. -They ar' gone. - And from beneath a blanked the shady women appeared, revealing her half scales and horns. -For me fathers beard... - The lady stood right in front of him, unashamed of her changed appearance, her new shade of green and growing fangs.

-I work at the hospital... - She regretted it rightly after spoken. It was because this work she got ill and turned out to be a monster hated by the people she helped. The old dwarf noticed the regret and said nothing. Paying no atention to her he got straight into the tent while looking for something, giving some privacy to the lady.

-Ya worked ther'. - The dwarf said after some time of awkward silence.
-What?
-Ya said ya work at da 'ospital. Ya worked. They exiled ya, right? - There was no shade of hate in his voice, but a kindness very much alike to parents warmth. Ssusara opened her mouth, almost insulted by the dwarfs attempt of comforting her, but said nothing.

-'a 'ad a boy there, ma only son. - The big dwarven nose dilated and he sneezed quietly. Ssusara didn't noticed. -He died last mont'.

-I am sorry. - She wasn't. Hundreds of inocent people died because of the plague and she was so used to it that death became her second lover, just after Koa Drake. The dwarf paid no attention to her indifference, as a rumble hat seller he knew pretty well how to ignore bad manners or rudeness. -Ya need t' get t' da exiled settlement, right? 'a can get ya there, if ya buy a scarf.

-I have no money left... - The doctor said nothing more and the dwarf just placed the two scarfs in her hands. He looked right inside her eyes and recognized her feelings of confusion. -It's "buy one, take two" promotion day. 'nd ya can pay ma money when ya got somethin'.

Said so he left the tent with a blanket and some more scarfs, and didn't come back in for the rest of the day, staying outside selling his merchandise until late night. A mirror was just beneath of some hats, barely hidden. Ssusara finally had the chance to take a good look on her, since she started changing on the morning and ran away on the spot.

She was always so proud of her deep black hair and now it was almost red, looking like a whore from the poor slums. Her teeth were too big for her mouth, making her look like the vampires from children histories. The once blue eyes were now brown and reptilian. The most disturbing trace, however, was the skin and the horns; scales growing fast, covering her bright white skin, turning her green, as the horns started appearing on the side of her face and started growing out of her head.

She paled at the sight of herself, changing slowly. The pain that woke up her in the morning was gone, and a strange feeling that made her a little dizzy replaced it. She was pregnant of two months now, from the men of her life and she even couldn't kill the now cursed child, as the baby would just regenerate like her forearms did when she tried to bleed to death.

Thinking of her dark future with these accursed body Ssusara went asleep. As the night went too cold, the dwarf was back from an inn, using his blanket and a scarf to warm his half-drunk self. He got some food for the girl and some money from a friend as well as a caravan out of town. Back into the tent he saw the young woman, no older than his own dead son, sleeping innocently in the tents ground. He put his blanket on her, allowing her some peace and rest.

The hour was past half-day when both dwarfs started to eat the roasted boar. Beer was a must to accompany any dwarf meal, as did vodka, wine and ale in less common occasions. Boragor started to eat before his comrade, as he always did, and Aviel Redhammer drunk some beer first as he always did. -Damn cold day. Wher' da chief wants wit' thes' blasted lands?

-Like hell 'a 'now. It's always da same, tha' gives 'ur orders and me and ya do it. - Aviel eat some boar and farted generously while chewed the meat. Boragor drunk some beer to help him swallow a great bite of meat. -'am just sayin', but did ya saw da one that 's travelin' wit' old Doromir?

-Yeah, 'a did. That one 's a strange one. - Aviel's hands and mouth were full of boar so he paused to bite some more meat before talking. -'a saw her eatin' 'esterday wit' Doromir, she swelled more than him wit' eac' bite. What a woman, huh?

-Bah, too skinny for ma taste, ya 'now. - Boragor ate even more meat making some beer to drool out of his mouth. -She gotta get more mass 'nd muscules... ha! That would be suc' woman. - Both dwarfs laughed noisely, what made Ssusara overhear them from inside the caravan.

-How much long must I stay cloaked in the dark, Doromir?
-Patience, girl. We'll got ther' in two days, now. - Doromir voice sounded as calm as ever, making the big beard and his trademark scowl face look even more displaced. -Nothin' to complain' about, thes' 're the best dwarfs of Valdec.
-Well, I think being in the shadows is just cowardice. The faster we get there, the better.

Doromir and Ssusara went silent only to hear the worst sound they could expect, the scream of a living men being pierced by arrows. Jumping to his hammer, Doromir dashed to the outdoors but was quickly hold tight by Ssusara's black half developed and sharp claws. -Please, don't leave me alone... - For the first time the woman had expressed fear but he couldn't let his brethren die unwatched and unavenged. -Come wit' me than, jus' stay away from da fight. - The dwarf atempt to scare her to stay was matched with fieary eyes and read determination. -I will go. Give me a wapon.

-What?! Ya canno't figth, girl! Ya 're ill!
-No! I know I can, I feel it. - The determination in her voice made the dwarf give up and he handed her a small sword, made out for cutting meat. -That 's what 'a 'll give ya. Don't die on me! - That said he left dashing out with such a rage that only an old dwarf could achieve.

The changing woman walked out unafraid of warcries and the sound of metal on metal, but terrified of herself. She had wanted to spill blood on these past days, her fury and blood thirst made her blind for the time being and she couldn't hold it in much longer. She striped herself out of cloths, tail, horns and scales showing. A pair wings were starting to grow on her back, what gave her a demoniacal appearance.

Her frenzy made her drop her sword, and instinctively striking fresh flesh with her claws. The opponent were already dead when she stopped mangling his body, the doctor looked at the face of her victim and felt so warm and right bathed in blood that couldn't hold a smile. Than she realized what she was racking to death, he was a plagued too, a changing monster.

After that she was hit by two spears simultaneously, also held by reptilian monsters with horns and fangs. Stunned she felt on the ground, her pregnant womb miraculously healing itself slowly and almost without pain. She watched as the two monsters discussed something about a gift and the dragon gods.

"I never liked the dragon gods... Why do I feel so betrayed and so in peace at their mention?" She thought about it while her mind slowly faded away, and that was the last thing Ssusara ever remembered.

Loyalties, Sir

2009-06-30T21:09:00.000-03:00

"Under the sun, we live..."
-Sir, we need to retreat quickly, this outpost is lost... Please, we have no choice! - Blood spilled from the guards torso as an arrow pierced his heart, killing the men instantly.

"Under the sun, we hunt..."
The captain watched his soldier die, tempted to feel pain or sorrow. But he didn't...

"Under the sun, we fight..."
-We shall stand and fight! - The last command was spoken, every soldier knew that nothing could change the tide of this battle. They would struggle to the end and die trying anyway.

"Under the sun, we kill..."
From the apathetic sky arrows dropped as rain and covered the land with death. For an instant, everything went silent... The survivors tried to regroup under a burning banner and a false thought of duty.

Two survivors argued about their loyalties and lives, each one trying not to breath the scorching smoke that covered the incinered outpost. -Saymore, the captain is dead! There is nothing more to be done here!

-I can't believe you are saying that, we need to kill as much as we can of them... - Saymore cought, breathing some of the black smoke. Ando argued impatiently, trying to persuade his friend to leave the outpost for good. -We don't even know how many of them are out there! Could be hundreds!

-We have direct orders, Ando. Disobedience would lead to...
-Death? And what is going to happen if we stay here?! - Both soldiers went silent for a momment, trying to overhear anything of help. Their eyes were sore from the smoke and their lungs blackier than charcoal. Life was thinner by each breath.

-Alright... Let's get the hell out'a here. - Saymore agreed. A fine smile grew in Ando's lips and both made their way over other soldiers bodies to reach the outpost borders.

At the other side of the outpost another recruit was trying his luck against death, alone. His thoughts betraying his eyes and ears, the shades that the flames cast on the ground and rocks made his fears overwhelming. His breath was failing as he tried to run leaving behind sword, shield and plates of armor.

Only his panting could be heard for a momment. He stopped over a rock, trying his best to hide from the carnage that the outpost survivors were suffering now. At some point he overheard a scream or two, making the lies cast by the shadows more believable. There, beneath a rock, he stayed and cried as every companion he had died at his back.

The outpost were finally taken. The new owners reestablished the barricades, reinforced the defenses, restored the forge and the food storage. The fire consumed just the things that they never cared so much about, like wood. The stone buildings and the main shrine were still standing, and they quickly built it to resemble their kin.

Humanoid creatures with scales and fangs, horns and tails, claws and wings. These draconic beings were named Draksar, and they were mobilizing a huge army. The preparations for war against old Valdac and the remaining smooth skin survivors were almost done. They needed more recruits, however, but Akakios, the great lord of this ferocious soldiers, had a plan to compensate the losses.

At the old Valdac shrine, artisans and slaves were shaping the old dragon god statues to represent the new Draksar faith. At a sub-chamber, Akakios were waiting his soldiers to gather the survivors, his sight cast upon his new acquired base. -Great leader, the prisoners are here.
-Send them in. And call my special guest.
-Yes, sir.

Another soldier came in, scouting four humans, all striped of their war gear. Anyone said no word as Akakios looked at the human soldiers with great displeasure. -Send them to Avix, the witch wanted some slaves. They are going to work under her supervision. Send her all the humans that the slavers raid bring back as well. If they die, don't bother, the Dragon Handlers have always need for food.
-Yes, sir.

Both soldiers scouted the slaves to the lower camp where some Skeezicks workers were rebuilding the ceiling of a scorched house. Avix weren't there, but her sisters, a group of broodqueens that worked under her watch, were supervising the Skeezicks. -Urg, these ugly Skeezicks smell worse than people tell.
-Avix prefer to use Skeezicks because they are stronger than the smooth-skins.
-They still stink.
-We have a job to do, shut up and let me talk. - Taduz, the scout, went in directly to a sister that were ordering two skeezicks to rally their kin.

-Broodqueen, were is your mistress? - She gazed the young scout expecting some more respect. -You won't find her, she left with the slave-raiders to help minimize the losses.
-Akakios himself send theses humans to her. I am supposed to deliver than at her hands. - After a brief understanding, both agreed that was best to leave them with her.

After they were dismissed, Taduz and Telir went to the training grounds, rest and discuss before they were sent into another patrol. -Avix were one of the first broodquens to Change, her wisdom were matched by sorcerers and wizards only.
-How can Lord Akakios trust a sorcerer? I was told they lie to achieve what they want.
-I know! And what is worse, rumors tell that she learned to channel nora with elves.
-That's wrong! I heard she choosed to Change and inflicted herself magically with the Taint.

Taduz looked surprised to Telir for a momment, trying to digest what his comrade said.
-There is no such thing as controlling the Blessing!
-I am just saying what I was told.
Both argued over than an hour before their help were requested again. They were to gather the other scouts and patrol for any threat. One footman never came back in the last patrol and Akakios wanted to know why.

Wish

2009-02-07T01:28:00.001-02:00

A wise man wakes up screaming and crying. His apprentice, worried, asks him: “What is the matter, master? Did you have a nightmare?” The man whipped his tears. “No, in fact it was a sweet dream.” “Why are you crying, then?” The apprentice asked, so the man answered. “Because I know that my dream will never come true.”

I was working when it came to me, trough the window. First I was charmed, then intrigued. “How could a bird fly through a window that was not real?” He stepped besides to my writing hand, I did not stop, for I needed to end my homework. He was just staring at me. I tried to ignore him, but his stare was strong willed, like no other I ever saw. Then my hand stopped, and I finally realized he was singing.

What a charming song, he was gorgeous. His beak was pure black, like his eyes. Time ran. Day turned night; I turned on the lights and stayed watching and hearing. I became charmed, as deep as a true love charm. Rhythm itself changed me, made me happy, sad and angry. I became so light that my feet started to wander through the room, and then I realized I was flying.

I became free, the surreal window appeared once again and I followed the little bird. He flied to a strange world and I did too. The clouds where yellow, as if the sun was hitting them from bellow. The water, deep crystalline green. I saw a fish; it was huge, monstrous colossal in truth. It blinked and a wave crashed on the shore. The bird kept on flying and singing. And so did I.

The song got faster and faster, and when I realized I flied trough oceans. I saw a crowded market, a miraculous hidden city and a magical forest. The bird started descending to the forest, and I followed him. In land, I meet my eyes on the most beautiful woman I ever saw. She smiled and came at me, reached my hand and put it in her naked breast, then smiled again and kissed me. At that moment I knew I would never come back home. I started thinking about if it was right or wrong or if I was happy about it or not. But I kept my thoughts to myself. And I do so even today.

Pocket Plane

2009-02-04T00:43:00.007-02:00

"With the birth of the unholy child, born was the end of an era. The fate of the one who sold his soul to the devil twice is to destroy the world once. And claim no reward..." _Falen Solar

Hoje eu sonhei com um mundo, fazia meses que eu não sonhava com ele. Um país dentro de uma linda esmeralda. Algumas vezes ele era feito só de pedra e rios, outras vezes ele era feito de ferro, fogo e vapor. Em alguns sonhos ele tinha vida, seres mágicos viviam e cresciam entre árvores gigantescas, em outras ele era um deserto despovoado, com exceção de suas cidades e sítios.

Eu sempre acordo exausto e excitado após sonhar com estas versões deste mundo. Algo nele faz meu sangue borbulhar, meus músculos se retesarem e meus sentidos se expandirem ao máximo por frações de segundo consecutivas. O espasmo é tão forte que algumas vezes eu esqueço as conjurações que eu memorizei no dia anterior só para acordar exaltado com as maravilhosas memórias que o sonho deixou.

Eu sempre termino o sonho segurando a enorme esmeralda aonde o mundo se encontra. Tão frágil e ao mesmo tempo tão poderosa, com um aperto de meus punhos ela facilmente se despedaçaria. E mesmo assim eu sinto como se por nada no multiverso eu deixaria mal recair sobre aquela jóia fantástica.

Engraçado não? Enquanto eu detesto e repudio aqueles que não conseguem viver apenas com as próprias forças eu também amo e nutro meu poder naquela jóia. Não é como a Rebaek e a Sisëra, eu as amo também, mas elas são bem capazes de me matar enquanto eu durmo e ainda viverem muito bem sem mim. Não que as esteja criticando, eu faria o mesmo, como fiz no passado. E mesmo as amando incondicionalmente eu também as admiro, pela sua força e sua capacidade.

A esmeralda, por outro lado, não possui uma força própria. Ela mantém um enorme potencial, sim, mas não sem a nutrição do meu poder. E isso me deixa excitado, me enche com uma determinação e um zelo que eu não tenho por mais nada. Devo, porém, me concentrar no presente. Por enquanto este amor que eu sinto é só um sonho. Tempo é o que vai alimentar a existência dele. De volta ao trabalho, neste caso.

Red Gates of Despair

2009-02-01T04:02:00.007-02:00

"Normally I would represent me with some kind of tricky obscure rpg-like relation, but I am in the mood for truths today. So I decided to open the first Gate of Despair with a single text of salutation:"

Before anything, I am not insane. I am not evil, but I am not good either. I am a drop of chaos with a handful of contradiction, moulded to look like rational philosophy and a detailed concept of life and death. Do not try to understand me, just accept what I have to tell you and let’s keep it a strict business of reader-blogger kind of relationship.
I am not your friend, but I am not your enemy either. I am a valuable and legitimate source of knowledge. Forbidden knowledge, useful knowledge, common knowledge, useless knowledge, that is up to your criteria and my mood.
I will write about my life, my characters, my histories and many other things, like sex, pornographies, demons, the devil, god and people. If you find me abusive, disrespectful, wrong or misguided just state it in your comments. And if I do not like you, I will be happy to kick your ass to the moon, anyway.
That is all, for now. I hereby declare the Red Gates of Despair OPEN.

Welcome to my nightmarish agony, fellas.

(Os posts nem sempre serão em Inglês. Sometimes I will feel like writing in portuguese.)