There are some who call me… Tim?

So your probably thinking to yourself: Is there going to be a part three? Is the story going to continue after this?

The answer is: Maybe. I didn’t write a third part today (well, physically), which means I may not have the momentum to write a third part. If you are all interested, I might be able to do something about it, but till then, we have an eternity of cliffhanger.

Enjoy!

Flight to Easter Island

I would have rather taken the train. The carriage was going to add nearly a month to my travel, but I couldn’t afford the attention train passengers are given. Our little Berlin problem had blossomed into the New Berlin Empire, and had seized control of the surrounding land. Prince Nigel had fled to Paris, marking the end of the magocracy’s control of Berlin, and there were rumors that General Yreklin had been killed.

Traveling at all was dangerous, but I had to make the move. I was headed toward Casablanca where I would catch a boat to Easter Island. If what Robert said was true in his letter, my suspicions of a link between the passage of Junzt’s Unaussprechlichen Kulten’s description of the Oho-tea architecture, and some unlabeled diagrams in Eibon’s Liber Ivonis were correct. Dangerous as it is, the Oho-tea witchdoctors may be the key to wand-less casting, something that I strived for. I was tired of the crutch the wand had become, I was nothing without it.

I was to transfer to a zeppelin in Lyons, which was still under the power of a magocracy. Within a few days, I would be in Casablanca boarding the St. Maria which would head south, past the horn, and to Easter Island. I will be much more comfortable on the airboat, and only if it was to continue as far as Easter Island, or even the New World. The carriage wasn’t too bad, however. In fact, the seats were quite comfortable, and, despite the rough roads, the ride was smooth and quiet.

The nights were less comfortable. I slept in the carriage, but the seat was much shorter then I was; the result was a dull pain in my back throughout the entirety of the journey. I suppose I couldn’t complain though. It was a far cry better then what would have happened on the train had New Berlin’s soldiers found me.

Before I left I sent several letters, warning my friends in Germanic-Europe to retreat west or south. Sergei Yegorif had gone south to Greece and, before I left, I received a letter of his safe arrival, as well as a drawing of a Greek temple. I was impressed, impressed enough to consider it my new home after my journey, as Berlin was now not safe.

Among the letters I sent was one to Kirin. I mention it only because of its length and importance. I detailed the consequences of not leaving in hopes of persuading her to leave Berlin and spoke of my travel to Casablanca. I wouldn’t dare mention the reason for my journey, save I was traveling to see Roger, an old friend of mine. If I was lucky, Kirin would take the hint and head, at the very least, to Paris.

When I finally reached Lyons, I was eager to escape the wooden carriage that had become my prison. I paid the carriage driver, and headed toward the air-docks. I paused in the city square to look up at the clock that adorned the side of the dock: 7:36. My zeppelin left at 8 o’clock sharp. I hurried into the dock and took the stairs two at a time at first, but I soon out-ran my breath and slowly took the rest one step at a time. I stepped, exhausted, onto the zeppelin. A kind faced man greeted me.

“Good Evening, Sir! Name?”

I smiled. “Fenris. Fenris Mourn.” The man nodded and noted something on his sheet.

“Ticket?”

“Right, Right…” I fumbled through my pockets and produced the small green slip. The man took it and inspected it closely, then nodded again.

“Thank you, Sir, do enjoy the flight.” He gestured me into the cabin, and with a smile, I proceeded inside. I found the first open room and stepped inside. There was room for another passenger, but I hoped no one would take it. I much preferred my privacy.

I set down my bags and hung my hat on the hook by the door. After a spending a moment with the mirror, making sure my hair looked alright, I stepped back out into the hallway and down to the dining room. The dining room was full of bright, young faces, mostly male, who hoped to take a boat across the Atlantic to the New World. Stories of riches and exotic, beautiful women attracted men and boys alike to the New World like moths to a flame. The only empty table was a booth next to the large open window. I approached it suspiciously, since I would have expected a table with such a view would have been taken, but finding nothing wrong, I sat down.

The dining room’s menu was limited, but I was hungry. When the waitress came but a moment later, I was already ready with my order.

“Evening, Hun,” she said with a practiced smile.

“Evening. Could I have the lemon chicken and a glass of water?” She nodded and jotted down my order on a pad.

“What brings you up here, Hun? We don’t see many of your type on here.” I paused at her words and looked up at her again. I had not been expected to be pegged as a mage so quickly, let alone by a waitress.

“Hmm? Oh, um, business.” She didn’t seem completely satisfied with the response, so I quickly changed the topic. “How could you tell?”

“Your eyes. You’re educated, I can tell. Most of the folks we see here aren’t. Gives you right away.” She smiled. I smiled back.

“Well, thank you.” I smiled at her.

“I’ll get your order in.” Her voice was very matter-of-fact, and I nodded before turning toward the window. With a shudder, the zeppelin began to ascend, right on schedule. My window seat gave me a beautiful panoramic view of the French region of Germanic Europe, and I traced with my eyes the extensive rail system the Prince had spent so much installing.

As we began moving away from the city, I turned my eyes down toward the city below. My attention was snatched by a commotion in the street. Grey-clad soldiers were moving into the square in front of the air-dock and, experiencing armed resistant by the red-clad soldiers of the magocracy, were firing rifles. I opened the window slightly, pressing my ear to the opening. The gun shots sounded like insignificant pops. I frowned and looked around the room. The rest of the patrons had begun to notice and were moving to the windows to look down.

The firing continued for several moments before the grey-clad soldiers disappeared inside the air-dock. Although fading pops could still be heard, there was nothing that could be seen in the growing darkness. Suddenly a bright light began to flash atop the air-dock. I scrambled to grab a pencil and paper from my coat, writing down the letters.

-A-F-E-N-R-I-S-A-B-O-A-R-D-?-

I swore quietly under my breath. How did they know I was here? They didn’t know if I had boarded the zeppelin, which was reassuring, but my life now sat in the hands of the Captain. If he reported me on board, they could recall the zeppelin, or worse, blow it out of the sky. The pause seemed to go on for hours, my heart racing. Finally, the response came, reflecting off the dirigible’s envelope.

-N-O-

I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. The answer was unusually short for an official message, but I had the feeling the Captain knew what the soldiers might do if they knew I was aboard. The momentary lapse of anxiety was soon ended by another thought. Had my letter to Kirin been intercepted? Although there was no way New Berlin could send troops to Casablanca fast enough, but the rails would have allowed them to respond even if they intercepted it only a week ago. And what of Kirin? Her address was on the letter! Was she already dead?

I continued to stare out the window as my mind raced, and did not notice when the flames first began to lick the air-dock. Soon, the entire city of Lyons, slowly sinking into the dark horizon, was glowing orange. The frustration of my escape must have made their Lieutenant rash.

When my food came, I paid, but did not eat it. An entire city burnt to ashes, and Kirin… I did not sleep that night, nor for most of the trip. Sitting instead by the window, staring. Not all stories have happy endings, but no one ever expects those stories to be theirs.

Fin! Hope you Enjoyed!

As always, Leave comments below.

Jumble, End Post.

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So, this was actually originally written as a short story. Specifically, as a series of Diary entries. I eventually decided, however, that the diary style is very interesting for me since I can extrapolate in depth about research, texts, and political following of my characters, it can be very boring for the reader.

Instead, I am giving about a 3 page short story per diary entry, recording important aspects of the day/time in a more first person writing style. We’ll see how long it lasts before I get horrible bored.

As a side note, I hope to do a review of Arcanum in the coming week or so.

Story!

The Beginning

The morning air was cool and crisp. It would have been a nice day to sit on the porch with Summer’s Poison de Umbras and a cup of coffee, but I had more important things to do. I pulled on the reins and my horse stopped at the forest’s edge. I peered up the hill at the tower above, carefully searching for lights, smoke, or other signs of habitation. Finding nothing, I gave a little sigh and continued up the hill.

Ms. Terin had always been a sweet woman, and the news of her death had brought me great grief. She had always been good at what she did, and had always been compassionate about it. It was largely because of this that she was able to live here, with such a magnificent view of Berlin and the surrounding countryside, without other mages coming to pillage her knowledge and trinkets. On some level, I would have been happier if it was a mage that had killed her; mages are predictable and finding her killer wouldn’t have been hard. No, it was the people of Berlin who had killed her. Ever since Kingslan perfected the “wizard-killing” bullet, it didn’t take a wizard to kill a wizard. Berlin had never been the same.

I stopped at the door and looked about again, watching the surrounding woods and homes for activity. God Forbid any of the rising Anti-Mage groups spot me. Satisfied, I dismounted my horse and patted him on the side. The door was unlocked, but I paused before opening it. My thoughts turned to the last time I was here, when Ms. Terin had invited me to tea. She was such a kind old woman.

“Just go in and get the books, nothing else.” I reminded myself. I wasn’t a looter, I was here for the things she had promised me. With a final sigh, I pushed the door open. The warm air rushed out, bringing with it a nauseating smell of rotting food. I coughed and stepped away from the door, gasping for clean air. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and pushed in.

The building was dark, things were strewn about the floor, and there were signs of scorching on the floor. A smile crept across my face. Ms. Terin didn’t go without a fight. I chuckled to myself, thinking of the faces of the first men in. The stench broke me back to Earth, and I quickly stepped over to the window over the sink, throwing it open and gasping for the clean air outside.

Something on a shelf caught my eye, and I knelt down to look at it. The little porcelain figure, not more than three inches tall, depicted a thin, tall woman with wisp hair and a kind face. I smiled and picked up the figurine. I know I promised not to take anything else, but it would be nice to have the little statue of Ms. Terin. I looked up for a moment at the silver plates above the bottom shelf and saw something – someone – in the window.

There was a flash of light, and I threw myself away from the shelves. Splinter of wood, glass, and metal rained down as I whipped my wand out, pointing it at the window. My eyes locked with the wild blue eyes of the girl beyond the window, and I let out a cry. “Fuck! Kirin! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

She glared at me. “Protecting my find.”

“Your find!? Fuck, Kirin, you nearly killed me!” My hand began to throb and I looked down at it. The porcelain figurine had broken in my hand, the shards digging into my skin. I shook loose the shards, blood pouring from my hand. “Fuck!”

“Get the hell out.”

I gripped my hand to my shirt, stemming the blood flow best I could. “Kirin, your gifted, we all know that, but you’re getting arrogant. This is not a ‘find’ it’s someone’s home. It’s hardly respectful to blow apart their shelves.”

“She’s dead, it doesn’t matter.” Her expression had not changed, her wand still outstretched.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “What do you even expect to find here? There’s nothing here worth killing anyone over.”

“Maybe not in your mind, old man.”

“Kirin!” I shook my head. “You could have at least warned me! After all those times I saved you your life.”

“I don’t need you anymore.” Her still raised wand was starting to bother me. I glanced around the room; the stairs were only about five feet away from me. Ms. Terin’s library was upstairs, if I could get up there…

“I’ll tell you what, how about a compromise? I’ll spend five minutes upstairs grabbing what I want, then I’m out of here. Everything here, in the basement, and what I don’t take upstairs is yours.”

“What’s upstairs that you want?”

“Books. I’m a bookworm.” I shrugged, hoping I would seem apologetic. She nodded slowly, and I did not wait for her to reconsider.

The library was dingy as downstairs, and I opened the window with my uninjured hand. I started skimming the titles, Kirin was not going to give me a second longer than five minutes, and I would much rather not have to hurt her. Arrogant as she is, she is promising, and could prove important when the Berlin problem became large enough to be dealt with.

Shadows and Darkness, by Fredrick Eisenhower. No, already read it, wasn’t promising. Bestiary of Fey, already have a copy. Liber Ivonis, Yes! I snatched the work off the shelf, spilling blood over the floor in my excitement. I swore again and clutched the hand to my shirt again. I opened the book best I could and skimmed it. Authentic, Perfect. I had no idea that Ms. Terin had a copy, or that anyone in Germanic Europe had a copy. This was all I needed. I placed the book in my bag and turned to take one last look out over the landscape.

A light caught my eye. Gathering torches in the brightening dawn. “Fuck!” Things just kept getting worse. I tore back down the stairs. “Kirin! Kirin! Wizard hunters!”

She looked up at me from her perusal of a drawer, and her eyes grew wide. “Shit!”

“Go! Go! Take my horse!” I motioned her toward the door, and she bolted. I heard my steed whiney in protest of the new rider, then take off at a gallop into the woods. I jumped through the window. Unable to catch myself, I rolled to land on my back. I gasped in pain as I landed; the carrots were ready to be harvested. Pulling myself to my feet, I stumbled slightly. I paused to regain my senses, then retrieved my wand. With a quick motion I knit together the shadows into a horse, its eyes glowing with the umbral motives of midnight. Pulling myself atop the freezing creature, I willed it to gallop. The horse’s motions were abrupt and artificial, but its quick noiseless stride was a boon. I looked over my shoulder, squinting at the sun. I couldn’t see the hunters yet. I didn’t dare stop till I was deep into the woods.

Fin! Hope you Enjoyed!

I already have part two written, so you’ll at least see that. I only got as far as Part Two of a story I was writing for Queen Elizabeth Faulke Wallace Lundblade the First before I got bored and stopped, so we’ll see how this one goes.

Leave Comments and Suggestions below.

Jumble, End Post.

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Been awhile since I posted, and I’m quite proud of this story. Inspired by a variety of things, but I don’t know if you can pick them out in here unless you’re me, or one of my close friends.

Alas, here we are:

The Cold

My head was throbbing. I tried to move my hands and found them bound, my legs the same. I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the dim room. A few scattered belongings, a medical bag with familiar medical supplies, and a chair. I shook my head. Last thing I could remember I was fighting those damn pirates. Shit. I’m captive. Are they going to torture me? Drown me? As the reality of my situation set in, I began to panic, and my head began to spin.

Quite abruptly, the door opened, interrupting my thoughts. A young man stepped through, dressed in black, with a clipboard.

“Oh good, your finally awake! I was worried we had lost you.” He seemed cheery, almost friendly, but I replied with a cold glare. “Come now. I’m a doctor. I’m here to help.” I replied with a scoff.

With a sigh, he gripped his clipboard to his chest. “I know, I know. Doctor amongst privateers. Hm. Don’t thin k it’s a plum job, but a man’s got to eat!” He smiled again and lowered the clipboard, picking a fountain pen off the table. “Now then, your name?”

I pondered an insult, but settled for silence and a glare. The man frowned. “Alright then, I hope to change it later, but in the mean time, you’re Patient 46. My name is Doctor Hammond. Pleasure.” He scratched at the attached paper with the pen before setting them both down on the table. Picking up the stethoscope he turned toward me again and folded his arms.

“So, cooperate or not, I do have a job to do, so here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to check your head for any serious injury, treat any other injuries you have, and then check you for diseases. Can’t let you get the crew sick.” He smirked, as if I would care. “Any pain to complain of?”

Normally, I wouldn’t have responded, but maybe this Doctor could help me. “ ‘Ead hurts.” My voice was weaker then I intended. “I’m sorry?” “My ‘Ead Hurts.” I said a bit louder. With a nod, he walked behind me.

I’m uncomfortable with people behind me, even when not bound to a chair, and try all I could, I couldn’t turn my head far enough to keep an eye on him. “Look forward for me, let me have a look at you.” I made a noise of protest, but complied. If this damn headache was gone I might be able to figure a way out of here.

His hands were warm and comforting, until he found my wound. I gasped and pulled away, wincing among his apologies. He didn’t pause long, parting my hair and taking a look at the wound. “Ooh, this is pretty bad. Nothing a big of rest and bandages won’t heal.” His voice faded as he stepped away from me, and I heard water sloshing behind me.

I steeled myself best I could manage, but I couldn’t stifle the wincing as he dabbed at and cleaned the wound. He worked quickly though, and was soon wrapping my head with bandages. When he stepped in front of me to admire his handiwork, I gave him a gruff look of thanks. With a smile, he nodded.

“My pleasure. Anything else bothering you?”

“Just the ropes.”

He laughed. “If only I could help. I do prefer my patiences less fettered, but the captain’s orders.” He shrugged, and turned toward the medical bag again, rummaging around. “Next thing to check is your gums. Scurvy, gingivitis, decay, excreta, will let me adjust your diet properly.” He turned toward me with a pair of nasty looking metal hooks atop short bars. He laughed again. “Don’t be so apprehensive. Won’t hurt you a bit! Come now, if you don’t cooperate with this one, you’ll be eating tasteless gruel.” Reluctantly, I opened my mouth.

He pulled the chair up in front of me and sat down, poking his tools into my mouth and frowning. “Looks like you have a bit of scurvy… no matter, I think I have some lemons down in the car-…” he paused suddenly, looking around the room. I followed his gaze, but found nothing. Then I felt it: the room was getting colder. The Doctors eyes widened with fear. “Shit.”

With a clatter, he stood up and tripped over the chair. The cold began to wrap around me like a heavy blanket. The doctor scrambled to the bag and poured the contents out onto the table, grepping through the contents even as tools and vials clattered to the floor. I shivered and the room began to grow dimmer. He quickly returned with a vial, and spoke quickly and loudly, but he sounded muffled and distant. “Take this! Drink! Drink! Don’t let them in!” I felt the liquid going down my throat. It was warm and reassuring; the room grew brighter for a moment, and I watched him rush to the door.

“CAPTAIN!” The room began to grow dimmer again. “CAPTAIN!” His voice was only an echo. CAPTAIN, QUICKLy! I felt something crawling on my hand, and I looked down. Little black things poured up over my leg and began burrowing into my skin. I could feel them crawling, spreading. The doctor’s voice was gone now, and I shivered hard in the deepening cold. Finally, all went dark, but I could feel the things wriggling beneath the skin of my neck.

I heard a scream closeby. The scream of utter terror as sanity flees the mind of a man clawing at the Earth, pleading with the demons that haunt the far corners and dark shadows of his nightmares. The screaming grew louder; Does that screaming come from me?

Fin! Hope you enjoyed.

Jumble, End Post

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So after visiting the Kennedy Space Center today, I have a few words I would like to say about NASA, Constellation (plan to go to the Moon, then to Mars) and the ISS (International Space Station)

I have heard a lot of people justify cutting NASA’s budget because we should be worrying “about cleaning up our planet before we go screw up other planets.”

Too true, Too true. I cannot agree more. In fact, Screw NASA, there are some serious matters we need to attend to! We should be spending that money:

Researching Cures for Cancer

Researching Cures of AIDS

Researching Ways to make Planes Safer for Passengers

Improving Highway design to Increase Traction During Wet Seasons

Improving the Efficiency of Combustion

Research Protein Growth to Improve Effectiveness of Medications and Therapies

Research Solar Panels (since, lets be honest, its the next big thing in the Southern States)

Research Efficient Computing and Put Engineers to Work thinking of Ways to Save Energy

Research Lighter, Stronger Alloys with better long-term Durability for Implants

Research Weather Patterns and Create An Early Warning System so people know when to get out when a storm is coming

Research Protective Gear to Keep Firefighters and Other Humans who have to Work in Hostile Environments Safe

Research Conservation of Resources and How to Reduce Waste

Figure out how to Reduce Pesky Air Travel Delays

Create Highly Effective Emergency Blankets for War-Torn or Disaster Torn Areas

Improve our Sleep

Improve Agricultural Output

and, Most Importantly, Promote Peaceful Partnership of Countries and People Worldwide.

Oh, Wait..

Thanks NASA. We all owe you one.

The Whole World Mourns the Astronauts and Cosmonauts - Human Beings - who have lost their Lives Promoting Peace, Unity, and Exploration.

Jumble, End Post.

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Awhile ago (Monday the 2nd), Queen Lundblade the First requested, nay, commanded by Authority of the Crown that We, the State of GraydenAdams.com take pictures of the Hibiscuses happily blooming nearby.

To prove that we are, in fact, an independent, democratic (Haha, alright, despotic) country, we… delayed for three days. We’re so sorry, Your Highness! Won’t Happen Again! QQ!

Flowers: Colors are super saturated because my camera is not super special, and notable not super expensive.

Yellow Flower

Three Flowers

Close Up

Jumble, End Post!

Comments(1)

Wordpress is a very strange thing.

While it sends most of the comments through moderation, in fact I had 33 to moderate today (31 of which were spam, the other two were Samm), it lets others through. As a result, Egor, Blart, and even Samm were posting away whenever they felt a comment was necessary, and Wordpress never even let me know!
I’ve revamped the security system, and added in some sonar systems, as well as some low-altitude radar stations to make it much harder for even Blart, with his impressive aviation skills, to fly below our radar.

In any case, didn’t write anything new today, but I will include a story I wrote a few days ago just for kicks and giggles.

The Darkness of Space

When it first arrived, we did not know what to think. What was this strange thing? It was no common meteor or comet, shaped so carefully and without err. It was honeycombed with chambers that were full of gases. How odd.

This is the USS Zeus, Contacting Any Ships in RG87, Please Respond.

We looked closer, and again, we did not understand. Little things running about entropically, yet with some fundamental order. Our curiosity piqued, we moved closer, carefully shifting forward towards it.

This is the USS Zeus, Contacting Any Ships in RG87. Super-Light Drives Destroyed, Supra-Light Drives Damaged. Any Ships, Please Respond.

Was it alive? Surely it must be hurting; else the little things would not move so. We reached out and touched the thing. It was… different. We had never felt this before. Unlike our home and being, the substance of this thing was excited. It was vibrating energetically. How strange.

This is the USS Zeus, We Have a Possible Situation Developing, Requesting Immediate Assistance. Please Respond.

Was it the brightly glowing thing beneath its metal exterior? We must help. We are compassionate.

-ituation, I repeat, This is the USS Zue-…-ave a Situation! Requestin-…-ssistance!

Ah! Already it has begun to relax. Even as we cast the glowing thing away, the vibrations begin to slow. But wait… the little things move faster now… How bizarre.

-sing Power, Cann-…-ignal, We Ne-…-mediate Assistance! Plea-…-pond!

We moved closer, reaching out again. Little walls had begun to seal off chamber s within, seal it off, trapping the gas inside. Was it the gas that provided this strange vibration? We wondered.

-fe Supp-…-asulties, Reques-…-tanc-…-spond!

Much better. It had begun to relax again. We spirited the gas away from the thing and the thing slowly turned to is natural state. We like it though, and we have wrapped ourselves around it. It is ours, and it is nice to have.

Hope you enjoyed.

Jumble, End Post.

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