@Cynder I'm just glad I can get work done in the middle of the night. It's usually when I get my best writing done, anyway. Could be worse. No 9-5 for me, thank you.
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- Thortimer 9 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
Current
Why do I keep thinking it was Friday today!?
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9 yrs ago
Imma get me some Raising Cane's and stay up all night watching Cowboy Bebop.
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9 yrs ago
Bad Fanfiction Theatre. Who knew bad writing could be raised to an art form.
9 yrs ago
Don't you hate when you have an idea while you're driving down the road and by the time you get home to write it down it's gone?
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Most Recent Posts
@Cynder Mine's just gotten worse now that I live on my own. And college doesn't help when class starts at 3.
@carla6677 That's why my apartment is a cluttered mess, ain't nobody sneaking up on me in the middle of the night. Then again, it's usually me falling through the clutter of my apartment in the middle of the night. I bet my downstairs neighbors think a drunk lives above them.
@carla6677 That's why my apartment is a cluttered mess, ain't nobody sneaking up on me in the middle of the night. Then again, it's usually me falling through the clutter of my apartment in the middle of the night. I bet my downstairs neighbors think a drunk lives above them.
@Vilageidiotx I wish I lived somewhere that was nice to drive at night. The drunks really come out of the woodwork around here at night. And early mornings.
@Obscene Symphony Rick is one of the greatest characters ever conceived.
@Obscene Symphony Rick is one of the greatest characters ever conceived.
@JulienJaden Speaking of cleaning, I've finally actually started cleaning my room. God. There's just... So... Much!
I guess the slow week has given me time to work on writing some music.
Been a quiet week.
@Life in Stasis How is Dark Souls III? How does it compare to their last game? I haven't had hardly any time to play video games. Working freelance sucks.
@Errant Son Ain't no rest for the wicked.
Yep, I've set it up so when @Errant Son posts, we should be at the prison. I'm sure they'll be plenty to post about when we see each other.
Inquisitors… They were an interesting bunch, to say the least. He had met several young ones in his travels. They would come to Vicenna from time to time in order to better learn to hone their magic detection. It was part of one of the earliest treaties made between Areta and Vicenna, that the Magi Order would aid Areta in exposing magic within their lands. While Vicenna strongly opposed what seemed to essentially be a witch hunt, they none the less respected their neighbor’s wishes to remain free of magic.
Marcus had often found it a bit ironic, those Inquisitors with the strongest sense of magic would probably have been great magi in their own right had circumstances been different. Some, in fact, were. It was a simple thing to hide one’s magical prowess when you were essentially judge and jury over such matters. They enjoyed a special privilege in these lands and, often times, very little oversight. If Areta was really concerned about magic in their lands, Inquisitors were the wolves in sheep’s clothing they should be watching out for.
But Marcus was glad he probably wouldn’t be present to have to deal with the headache of having to be around them. He would accompany Sir Gawain to see those elves. If they were the ones who had been attacking Muon Pond, he would remember them. He could never forget them. Among other things that had been permanently burned into his mind from that day. His blood boiled just thinking of them, but he would reserve his opinion of them until he could learn their reasoning for acting so clandestine with their rather pitiful attempts at saving a handful of Vicenni souls.
He strode back over to the table, now covered in various dishes of food once the ember of his pipe finally shriveled. He took a piece of bread and fruit and politely devoured it. He hadn’t eaten anything since last evening. He was not about to starve himself from his own depression over his lost home. There was still far too much to be done.
Finally finished he bowed to the King and Lady. The situation may have been dire, but he was still in the presence of nobility and would show them their proper respects. “Thank you for the hospitality, Lady Anquis. It was a pleasure to have met you. I promise to keep my magic to myself and away from wandering eyes. And thank you, King Alonso, for allowing Vicenni refugees in your lands. It is good to know that Areta has both a compassionate and competent ruler. I will make my leave with Sir Gawain to investigate these Elven prisoners. I’ll be sure not to leave his sight. And let me know if I can be of any further assistance.” He straightened and waited for Gawain to finish before exiting with the Knight.
As they walked, Marcus prepared his pipe once more. “So, Sir Gawain. I hope you don’t hold your imprisonment against me. You were an Aretan Knight within the borders of Vicenna at the time. Master was sure you were the scout of a larger invasion force. He was searching for an enemy in the wrong place it seems…” With his thumb over the cup of the pipe, he nursed it to life. Smoke danced away with the wind as the two made their way to the prison. “I guess the tables have turned. I’m your prisoner now. I just hope we figure out what those creatures motivations are before all the lands are consumed by their wicked magics… I hope to live long enough to see those devils burn for the atrocities they’ve committed. We won’t let those bastards do to Areta what they did to Vicenna…” He seemed to have started talking to himself in his own thoughts.
The liveliness of the city was winding down as evening was approaching. Shops were closing down and people were headed back to their homes. The smell of a hundred family meals wafted through the air. It reminded him of his own home. After a few more moments, he snapped out of his reverie, still billowing like a chimney. “Sorry, don’t mind this mage’s ramblings. Let’s focus on the matters at hand now. I’m sure we’ll recognize those elves straight away. You might’ve been half in a hallucinatory haze, but I remember them clearly. Hopefully their pointy eared leader survived. He’s the best bet at understanding what hell these creatures might be planning.”
Marcus had often found it a bit ironic, those Inquisitors with the strongest sense of magic would probably have been great magi in their own right had circumstances been different. Some, in fact, were. It was a simple thing to hide one’s magical prowess when you were essentially judge and jury over such matters. They enjoyed a special privilege in these lands and, often times, very little oversight. If Areta was really concerned about magic in their lands, Inquisitors were the wolves in sheep’s clothing they should be watching out for.
But Marcus was glad he probably wouldn’t be present to have to deal with the headache of having to be around them. He would accompany Sir Gawain to see those elves. If they were the ones who had been attacking Muon Pond, he would remember them. He could never forget them. Among other things that had been permanently burned into his mind from that day. His blood boiled just thinking of them, but he would reserve his opinion of them until he could learn their reasoning for acting so clandestine with their rather pitiful attempts at saving a handful of Vicenni souls.
He strode back over to the table, now covered in various dishes of food once the ember of his pipe finally shriveled. He took a piece of bread and fruit and politely devoured it. He hadn’t eaten anything since last evening. He was not about to starve himself from his own depression over his lost home. There was still far too much to be done.
Finally finished he bowed to the King and Lady. The situation may have been dire, but he was still in the presence of nobility and would show them their proper respects. “Thank you for the hospitality, Lady Anquis. It was a pleasure to have met you. I promise to keep my magic to myself and away from wandering eyes. And thank you, King Alonso, for allowing Vicenni refugees in your lands. It is good to know that Areta has both a compassionate and competent ruler. I will make my leave with Sir Gawain to investigate these Elven prisoners. I’ll be sure not to leave his sight. And let me know if I can be of any further assistance.” He straightened and waited for Gawain to finish before exiting with the Knight.
As they walked, Marcus prepared his pipe once more. “So, Sir Gawain. I hope you don’t hold your imprisonment against me. You were an Aretan Knight within the borders of Vicenna at the time. Master was sure you were the scout of a larger invasion force. He was searching for an enemy in the wrong place it seems…” With his thumb over the cup of the pipe, he nursed it to life. Smoke danced away with the wind as the two made their way to the prison. “I guess the tables have turned. I’m your prisoner now. I just hope we figure out what those creatures motivations are before all the lands are consumed by their wicked magics… I hope to live long enough to see those devils burn for the atrocities they’ve committed. We won’t let those bastards do to Areta what they did to Vicenna…” He seemed to have started talking to himself in his own thoughts.
The liveliness of the city was winding down as evening was approaching. Shops were closing down and people were headed back to their homes. The smell of a hundred family meals wafted through the air. It reminded him of his own home. After a few more moments, he snapped out of his reverie, still billowing like a chimney. “Sorry, don’t mind this mage’s ramblings. Let’s focus on the matters at hand now. I’m sure we’ll recognize those elves straight away. You might’ve been half in a hallucinatory haze, but I remember them clearly. Hopefully their pointy eared leader survived. He’s the best bet at understanding what hell these creatures might be planning.”
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