Sworded Tales

Without missing a step, Marcus smashed his shield into the face of the would be robber as he turned to flee, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

Katarina lead the animals away via the path of least resistance, as she didn’t want to attract any undue interest to herself while getting the supplies back to camp.  She realized with a grim thought that many will be needing the healing touch of Trymeya as well as her own skills.

A deep sigh escaped Daroun as cursed his inopportune luck.’  He had just released his hold on several spells to make room for the elemental magics they would need against the Trolls.  Now he had not the time to study them, caught more unprepared than ever.  Continue reading

We all have them.  Some perish with youth.  Others flourish lifelong.  Most are personal arch demons that wield no power over others we know.  For each of us though, these psychic scars carry the weight of the world.  Sometimes of other worlds too.

The basement of my youth was furnished but unfinished.  Poured cement walls and floor encased a cavernous space supported by three steel posts.  I spent a great deal of time within that stone lair, and each return to the house proper was a race for my life.

Twelve steps, finished with a railing.  Not even the kind you could see (or reach!) through.  I took them three and four at a time as I aged.  I would often hit them running and flip the light switches off mid-stride.  Then I would smack the stair switch off as I snaked through and closed the door with swift assuredness.  I attribute some of my athletic ability to the training on those stairs.  Whatever emerged into the darkness behind me helped to forge me into who I am.

I like the darkness today.  I have come to terms with it, on my terms.

The same cannot be said for shower drains.  I do not like standing on them.  I do not like touching them.  I can.  My adult self rationally destroys whatever menace lurks in the drain, waiting to burrow into my foot.  But the emotional attachment remains.  The outdoor shower we installed sits atop pervious concrete with a french drain beneath.  No actual drain.  Is it any wonder?

Fear is a potent organism that can carve out personalities along the paths of song or shadow.  Know your fears.  Understand them.  Even learn from them as you may.  The important bit is, don’t let them control you.  The path you choose is always yours.

So, what little fears still walk the corridors of your mind?

Persistence was all that mattered.  Continuation.

Genosis was here before the apes walked upright, before the fish crawled from the sea, before the sludge surged with purpose.  The barren, fertile world needed only a spark.  In death, in exile, Genosis was the breath of life. Continue reading

Tag finished tapping his fingertips together and said, “I’d say that’d be about 200 posts.”

“That’s allotta goddamn posts,” his partner groused, spitting sideways onto the trail.  Jikk didn’t mind work as a rule, but digging was no better than sucking love from a porcupine’s ass.  Hell, the porcupine would probably leave fewer splinters.

“That’s a lot of goddamn stock,” Tag mimicked back with a chuckle.  His eyes roved over the range of desert scrub they’d selected.  Now they just needed to construct the pen.  “Figure, two an hour, ten hours a day for ten days, and that leaves us plenty of time to string the line.” Continue reading

“You’re such a charmer,” Merinde said, “Is it that bad?”

Gerard gazed off, his mind rattling through the images of the Shredder and what it had done to a well armed and able quartet of adventurers.  Time and distance enough had passed though, that he wondered if the predator had moved on to a different course of action.  Good for them, yes.  Bad for the notion that the construct had an agenda.  That increased the likelihood of invasion. Continue reading

The dead rose and feasted on the living, but not until the spring.

Winter was a hell of a time for armageddon to come knocking in North America.  If the living dead planned their invasion this way, someone among their ranks needed to be released without severance.

There were a bundle of isolated incidents  in morgues and mortuaries, at accidents and funerals, but the uprising of the walking dead was quelled without much ado.  Modern culture had saturated the populace against zombie apocalypse so well, that no serious outbreaks occurred.  Hard to believe with a shit ton of imbeciles walking around, but one thing that everyone could seem to agree on was the best way to stop a zombie. Continue reading

Whilst the two leapt up onto their mounts, debating some point whose significance was unclear, Cheskith regarded the oncoming tide of mercenaries with a thoughtful look. Even as he did, his hand tapped his throat and lips, the same sort of whispery words as he’d uttered before issuing forth.

“For us to stay with you, you want?” the question was sent Erellia’s way, spoken somewhat more firmly than usual to carry well over the din from the town and the forces just beyond, “And to assist, or not to assist?” Continue reading

Had the opportunity to run around in Tamriel this weekend.  A beta test for The Elder Scrolls Online.

Let me start by saying that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my offline adventures in Skyrim.  So I went into this MMO with eyes wide open and hopes elevated that I might find a new niche to plumb for a time.

This evolution was comparable to its origins, though I felt that many of the Skyrim nuances were lost in the scope.  I’m not going to touch on the horrific logistical concerns the game faces with only a month until launch.  (There are many.  It was not pretty.)

The stories were adequate.  The voice acting entertaining, though I found myself reading the text and moving on long before the vocal efforts finished.  Certainly beta pressure was a factor, but overall the dialogue was a bit bloated and overlong.  Advancement was grindier and the environment more linear than my tastes allow.  Beautiful setting with mediocre animations.

I could go on and on and on, but I think brevity serves better here.

ESO is simply OK.  Logistical hot mess.  Adequate game play.  Uninspired adventures.  Three months of play not worth the $90 investment.  I’m sure fans of the setting will love every inch of Tamriel, but there just isn’t enough of a draw for me.  I’m going to hunt for my niche elsewhere.

Picksy Flint was born after the fall.  When the grid, and luxury, and the masses were little more than mystical retellings from the oldest still walking.  The days had shriveled.  The nights bled on.  And she had the marks to prove it.  Her crystalline gray eyes at the heart of them.

She killed her first feeder at the age of six.  Granted the spiked arm that recoiled when she released the trigger did most of the work, but the kill was hers, and she liked it.  From that moment, her path was chosen. Continue reading

Devon crashed through the surface of an emerald sea, the myriad sparkling gems washing away from him in a tinkling cascade.  The vibrant spectrum flooded his eyesight as the second forest rolled out before him, spanning the horizon in both directions.  He stumbled and swooned and would surely have toppled were it not for the firm hand on his shoulder.

His eyesight followed that limb up to the owner’s face, and an homage to the stranger stared back at him.  This being was majestic and righteous and seething with purpose, where the stranger had been uncertain and aloof.  They were so different, and yet, he knew them to be the same.  His name was Tammer. Continue reading