Man, I fucking hate that word.
Hope has this connotation, this idea in mainstream that it's actually a good thing. Where this came from, I have no idea, but it's used constantly to invoke some sort of positive response in people. In this time when our language is being redefined on a daily basis, when people are getting to the reality of what it means to "have faith" or what have you, why is "hope" taboo?
Dictionaries break down the word to even make sure that there's this idea persists. For instance, the definition: a "person or thing in which expectations are centered" seems like a valid, non-connotation-based definition until the example sentence afterwards: The medicine was her last hope. Seriously, how did this become the example? The last of the sick dying of the black plague was man's only hope for survival. There. An example that is much more "gray" than disturbingly positive.
You know what? I'm gonna redefine the word here. Screw the 40 different definitions for the word, I'm going to give one (ok, two, because you gotta verb it as well) that fits them all.
hope [hohp] 1. Noun. A desire that has no basis in reality to come true, but we wish for it to be so regardless. 2. Verb. The act of having hope.
Seriously, that's it. Let me break it down for you. Hoping is simply wanting something, but not having any idea whether or not you're really going to get it. Sure, you can work at it, do what you can to make it happen, but if any action you take would assuredly make it happen, then it's no long hope. It's simply an action (or for you physicists out there who probably aren't reading this, a reaction).
So in truth, it's just a baseless desire. Now THERE'S a word that has changed meaning in the last few decades. Used to be you could wake up in the morning and desire toast for breakfast. Now if desire is one of the first words out of your mouth in the morning, someone is bound to have a snarky giggle before you even finish the sentence.
What's to stop hope from having the same connotation? After all, most likely as your reading this, that guy nearby is hoping to have sex with you anyway. He's got no basis for this; he doesn't know who you are, what sexuality you may be, and probably doesn't even know how to start up a conversation. Hell, he's probably trying to get a look at what you're reading in hopes he can use it as an icebreaker. Won't he feel awkward when he sees the title and starts yammering about starving kids in Africa, or how his parents died, or 9/11.
We've taken the time to redefine Belief and Faith as modern-day consumers. Since Hope is really their relative, we really should not still be blindly considering it to be a positive thing. Hope is the waiting room attendee's hope that something will cure someone's cancer before they die as much as it it is the psychotic's hope that the next kill can stop the voices in his head. Neither has much basis in reality, neither knows for certain whether or not the actions taken can truly make a difference, but they both hope it's true.
Seriously, the only line between Hope and its ugly cousins is sacrifice. Hope can still maintain some sort of innocence only in the fact that it can be completely internal; one doesn't have to act on one's hopes, and in fact acting on it often defines it as something else, although it still remains a hope. The willingness to sacrifice someone else or someone else's hope turns it into a belief, whereas the willingness to sacrifice yourself or something you believe turns it into faith. One can fervently hope that the heathens will come to realize their ways are destroying the core of humanity; the believers gather followers and launch wars against their enemies with hopes of converting them through martial prowess; the faithful strap bombs to their chests in hopes that their sacrifice will teach others the evils of their ways.
Seriously, fuck that word. Every time I see it now, it just makes me angry. It's constantly used as a trap to elicit feelings of guilt for things that, in truth, we hold no real responsibility. Fuck sending money in some sort of hope that it'll do some good. If you really feel that guilty about starving kids in Africa, pack up your own bag of money and catch a plane. See how much good that bag of money will do out there. Or get a job working for the cause, and make sure the donations are going somewhere good. Then tell those you trust that you know this is going to make a difference, not simply hoping it is. Take away the hope and just it into a want. Make it something you can actually do something about, instead of hoping that your random donation is going to a good cause.
I hope you didn't read this hoping for some sort of positive twist at the end; but then, neither of us have any basis in reality for that, so screw it.
There was a door inside my head.
I've gone on trips inside my own mind on many occasions. Some are more successful than others. Sometimes it feels like a simple exercise in imagination, but other times I can put myself into a state I cant only describe as a waking dream. I see people I don't recognize, places I've never seen, sometimes even creatures that are beyond even what I would believe I could imagine. I consider it a trip to my subconscious, a way for me to explore my dreams from the outside in a way. I don't have control; these aren't the "lucid dreams," I've had before. These are more of a viewing, a playback of something. At least, that's how it feels.
This was unlike either of those.
My eyes were closed, but I was still awake. I was in a meditative state of sorts, a technique for concentration that I've gotten better at assuming over the last few years. I'll be honest: I first learned it merely as a means to help me get rid of hiccups. Now it's useful in all sorts of situations, from work to normally uncontrollable anxieties. It also helps me get into a mindset that I can normally go on these little trips.
I blacked my mind. It's one of three ways I normally do this: blacking it out, filling it with light, or (if I've got a bit more time) picturing my thoughts being thrown into a fire. For stronger meditative states, the ones that tend to affect my physical body as well as my head, I use numbers and imagine them being created in fire and steel. This particular time, as I only thought to do so quickly, was a blacking.
When I first saw the door in my head, I was very confused. Blacking doesn't normally leave anything, especially not something quite as specific as this. Sometimes there are distractions and sounds that get through, but a large, wooden, double-door and frame, floating in the darkness? This was strange.
I pictured myself walking to the door. I'm still not sure how this worked, to be honest. I was aware in my mind that I was still standing at the door, but somehow I imagined what would happen should I choose to open it. This second me, the fiction inside of fiction, came to the and cracked it. All this me could see on the other side an orange dancing light like a fire, and eyes that stared back at me, through me. I gasped within my head, and the image was lost. I found myself once again outside the door.
I was unsure what to do. The door hid something. It felt like a necessity; I felt that behind that door, there was something important, a part of me that I didn't understand or accept or something. I went through my head, recognizing some of the strange and dangerous thoughts I've had in the past, but I did not move from in front of the door. Did I construct it? Did my subconscious construct it for me? I've done and planned terrible things in my past. What is behind that door that frightens me so?
Emotion started to make my concentration waver. I knew I didn't have much time, and it felt dangerous to throw open the doors when I could not spend the time to deal with what I might discovered. I turned, or, perhaps, it moved to the side. I cannot say for certain. All I know is I made movement to distance myself from it for now.
I opened my eyes. A face appeared surrounding my vision, as suddenly as the door appeared behind my eyelids. It was white and hollow, almost more of a skull than a face but it stretched and moved like skin. It wailed, silently, before fading into my peripheral vision. I closed my eyes, and I could see it again. I shuddered, wondering if this is a sign of a good decision, or a bad one.
I don't suppose I will know, until the time I open the door, and see which truth lies behind.
I've gone on trips inside my own mind on many occasions. Some are more successful than others. Sometimes it feels like a simple exercise in imagination, but other times I can put myself into a state I cant only describe as a waking dream. I see people I don't recognize, places I've never seen, sometimes even creatures that are beyond even what I would believe I could imagine. I consider it a trip to my subconscious, a way for me to explore my dreams from the outside in a way. I don't have control; these aren't the "lucid dreams," I've had before. These are more of a viewing, a playback of something. At least, that's how it feels.
This was unlike either of those.
My eyes were closed, but I was still awake. I was in a meditative state of sorts, a technique for concentration that I've gotten better at assuming over the last few years. I'll be honest: I first learned it merely as a means to help me get rid of hiccups. Now it's useful in all sorts of situations, from work to normally uncontrollable anxieties. It also helps me get into a mindset that I can normally go on these little trips.
I blacked my mind. It's one of three ways I normally do this: blacking it out, filling it with light, or (if I've got a bit more time) picturing my thoughts being thrown into a fire. For stronger meditative states, the ones that tend to affect my physical body as well as my head, I use numbers and imagine them being created in fire and steel. This particular time, as I only thought to do so quickly, was a blacking.
When I first saw the door in my head, I was very confused. Blacking doesn't normally leave anything, especially not something quite as specific as this. Sometimes there are distractions and sounds that get through, but a large, wooden, double-door and frame, floating in the darkness? This was strange.
I pictured myself walking to the door. I'm still not sure how this worked, to be honest. I was aware in my mind that I was still standing at the door, but somehow I imagined what would happen should I choose to open it. This second me, the fiction inside of fiction, came to the and cracked it. All this me could see on the other side an orange dancing light like a fire, and eyes that stared back at me, through me. I gasped within my head, and the image was lost. I found myself once again outside the door.
I was unsure what to do. The door hid something. It felt like a necessity; I felt that behind that door, there was something important, a part of me that I didn't understand or accept or something. I went through my head, recognizing some of the strange and dangerous thoughts I've had in the past, but I did not move from in front of the door. Did I construct it? Did my subconscious construct it for me? I've done and planned terrible things in my past. What is behind that door that frightens me so?
Emotion started to make my concentration waver. I knew I didn't have much time, and it felt dangerous to throw open the doors when I could not spend the time to deal with what I might discovered. I turned, or, perhaps, it moved to the side. I cannot say for certain. All I know is I made movement to distance myself from it for now.
I opened my eyes. A face appeared surrounding my vision, as suddenly as the door appeared behind my eyelids. It was white and hollow, almost more of a skull than a face but it stretched and moved like skin. It wailed, silently, before fading into my peripheral vision. I closed my eyes, and I could see it again. I shuddered, wondering if this is a sign of a good decision, or a bad one.
I don't suppose I will know, until the time I open the door, and see which truth lies behind.
Projects in the Works
So, just as an FYI: Yes, I am working on things. Big things. Things made of awesome and win. I think they are, anyway. I'm not dead, I'm not not-writing, etc., etc. I'm currently working on a long-ass post about a sort of origin-story on the Precipitous Bar and the Edge. Two different stories, one of which I've already started before. Not sure how I feel on it, though; I may hold off on that until I'm more comfortable on where it's going.
I'm also starting a new novel project among many other shorter ones. It's a bit out-of-the-ordinary for me, in that it requires some research on my part thanks to the fact that it mostly takes place in the here-and-now and deals with historical fiction. As I'm not a huge history buff, nor really that up on geography/current events as I should be, this can take some work. I'm looking forward to some of it, but more than anything I'm hoping I don't get burned out. Still, as long as I can get some framework down, I think this would be a good project to come back to periodically even if I lose steam part way through.
So fear not, all 2-3 readers of mine! I'm still here, and I hope I will have more coming in the near future. And yes, I'm pretty sure all of the stories to come will be supernatural in some shape or form; despite trying new genres, I don't think I can ever really get the supernatural completely out of my head insofar as the stories I like to tell.
I have, however, decided to stretch my writing muscles a little bit more. I've been doing a few game reviews and other random, often far-too-long posts on G+ recently, mostly involving dreams or funny anecdotes from life (you can see that here if you're so interested, just ask me to add you to my Video Games and/or Dreams circles). I'm hoping to get a few more of these kind of things going as well. I have a couple of options, I hope, to see what I can pull off, but we shall see. Hopefully, there will be more to come should that happen.
So yeah! Hopefully, within the next couple of days, I'll have the opening for the Foxfire Protocols (the novel project) up here to pique interest and get some feedback on the idea. I will probably post the first few chapters, although I may not submit the whole story to the blog. We shall see. Anyway, thanks for reading! The encouragement has been wonderful.
I'm also starting a new novel project among many other shorter ones. It's a bit out-of-the-ordinary for me, in that it requires some research on my part thanks to the fact that it mostly takes place in the here-and-now and deals with historical fiction. As I'm not a huge history buff, nor really that up on geography/current events as I should be, this can take some work. I'm looking forward to some of it, but more than anything I'm hoping I don't get burned out. Still, as long as I can get some framework down, I think this would be a good project to come back to periodically even if I lose steam part way through.
So fear not, all 2-3 readers of mine! I'm still here, and I hope I will have more coming in the near future. And yes, I'm pretty sure all of the stories to come will be supernatural in some shape or form; despite trying new genres, I don't think I can ever really get the supernatural completely out of my head insofar as the stories I like to tell.
I have, however, decided to stretch my writing muscles a little bit more. I've been doing a few game reviews and other random, often far-too-long posts on G+ recently, mostly involving dreams or funny anecdotes from life (you can see that here if you're so interested, just ask me to add you to my Video Games and/or Dreams circles). I'm hoping to get a few more of these kind of things going as well. I have a couple of options, I hope, to see what I can pull off, but we shall see. Hopefully, there will be more to come should that happen.
So yeah! Hopefully, within the next couple of days, I'll have the opening for the Foxfire Protocols (the novel project) up here to pique interest and get some feedback on the idea. I will probably post the first few chapters, although I may not submit the whole story to the blog. We shall see. Anyway, thanks for reading! The encouragement has been wonderful.
The Truth Behind the Whiskers
(Edit: This somehow got put in Draft instead of Posting. Date should be 8/16/2011. Going to post now, as it's interesting to read at this point as I read back).
It's a personal revelation post! Feel free to ignore if you don't like reading introspective bull shit.
For those of you that don't know (which is probably not many people), I decided to remove the entirety of my facial hair this weekend. To some, I'm sure this is not a big thing, but considering it's been around a decade or so since I've completely removed the chin-fuzz, it was a big deal to most. Heck, it was a big deal to me, but I've had a hard time trying to figure out why.
So I take a look in the mirror a bit ago. This, in itself, is a bit strange: normally, when in front of a mirror, I'm either (a) blind, as I don't have glasses on, (b) washing my hands so I don't pay attention, or (c) shaving/trimming hair, so I'm only paying attention to details. Me standing in front of a mirror simply to look at myself is different. My reaction seems even more strange, though, as I realize that, for a moment, I actually recognize myself, a feeling I haven't had in a while.
For a moment, I'm terribly confused. I've had my face one way for years now, THAT should be the face I recognize. Why do I feel like this is face that I own, not the one I've worn for longer than I really remember (the years have kinda blurred, don't judge me)? I've really never felt like I was staring at a stranger int he mirror before, but there is definitely a sense of "self" I feel now. Before, I was staring a picture, a rendering, but now... Now that's me looking back at me.
It's a personal revelation post! Feel free to ignore if you don't like reading introspective bull shit.
For those of you that don't know (which is probably not many people), I decided to remove the entirety of my facial hair this weekend. To some, I'm sure this is not a big thing, but considering it's been around a decade or so since I've completely removed the chin-fuzz, it was a big deal to most. Heck, it was a big deal to me, but I've had a hard time trying to figure out why.
So I take a look in the mirror a bit ago. This, in itself, is a bit strange: normally, when in front of a mirror, I'm either (a) blind, as I don't have glasses on, (b) washing my hands so I don't pay attention, or (c) shaving/trimming hair, so I'm only paying attention to details. Me standing in front of a mirror simply to look at myself is different. My reaction seems even more strange, though, as I realize that, for a moment, I actually recognize myself, a feeling I haven't had in a while.
For a moment, I'm terribly confused. I've had my face one way for years now, THAT should be the face I recognize. Why do I feel like this is face that I own, not the one I've worn for longer than I really remember (the years have kinda blurred, don't judge me)? I've really never felt like I was staring at a stranger int he mirror before, but there is definitely a sense of "self" I feel now. Before, I was staring a picture, a rendering, but now... Now that's me looking back at me.
Am I the Moon?
She is the wolf, baying at the moon. She cannot reach it, but it comes to her every day. Her want to be with it grows and grows, until she convinces herself that it's not her that wishes for the moon, but the moon that needs her. She runs and runs, howling all the time, but gets no closer.
What is the moon? Well, that is no simple question. The moon is many things; a father or mother, child or sibling; it could be a foreign land, or a hard-sought career; it could even be an unrequited love or personal riches. The point is not what the moon is now, but what it cannot be. It is what is unobtainable, whether that be now or forever, and the wolf finds themselves consumed by the singular desire to have it, despite knowing it can never be.
I am but the rain. I grant the reprieve, however short, masking the moon for a moment, just the time to wonder about everything else. The shadows become aware of each other, the wolf wonders if the moon that hides itself is worth its laments. I fall upon the mountains, and become the river. To those that come to see me, I grant a truth: I bring a reflection, the way to see oneself that, perhaps, they have not seen before.
The wolf came to the waters to find her reflection, and the sustenance of the river. I am but a flow; I follow the path where it may lead. I do not know where I might go, but I know the end, when I must join the others once again and become indiscernible, until the day I reach the sky once more and begin again.
The wolf runs with me. I do not know if its for what I showed her, or what I can provide her, or if she simply loves what I am. She has not forgotten the moon, but she does not let it consume her; when she has the river, she does not feel alone, does not feel the need of the moon, but instead tries to find herself along the banks. I can only hope the path will wind, so that we may have more time together, so that I can watch her run even though I do not know why she does.
Too soon, I see the shore, the beaches that tell me my journey will be ending. The wolf still runs even as I join the ocean, runs into the waters in hopes of trying not to lose that which had become so dear. I lose sight quickly, as I am dragged into the everything. I wait to begin again, and I wonder: what will the wolf think of me? Will she believe I left her? Will she stay by the ocean, wondering what she could have done? Will she wait for the rain once again?
Or will she return to where she once was, howling at the moon? There was once a reflection, and now there is only the wolf. So what have I become?
What is the moon? Well, that is no simple question. The moon is many things; a father or mother, child or sibling; it could be a foreign land, or a hard-sought career; it could even be an unrequited love or personal riches. The point is not what the moon is now, but what it cannot be. It is what is unobtainable, whether that be now or forever, and the wolf finds themselves consumed by the singular desire to have it, despite knowing it can never be.
I am but the rain. I grant the reprieve, however short, masking the moon for a moment, just the time to wonder about everything else. The shadows become aware of each other, the wolf wonders if the moon that hides itself is worth its laments. I fall upon the mountains, and become the river. To those that come to see me, I grant a truth: I bring a reflection, the way to see oneself that, perhaps, they have not seen before.
The wolf came to the waters to find her reflection, and the sustenance of the river. I am but a flow; I follow the path where it may lead. I do not know where I might go, but I know the end, when I must join the others once again and become indiscernible, until the day I reach the sky once more and begin again.
The wolf runs with me. I do not know if its for what I showed her, or what I can provide her, or if she simply loves what I am. She has not forgotten the moon, but she does not let it consume her; when she has the river, she does not feel alone, does not feel the need of the moon, but instead tries to find herself along the banks. I can only hope the path will wind, so that we may have more time together, so that I can watch her run even though I do not know why she does.
Too soon, I see the shore, the beaches that tell me my journey will be ending. The wolf still runs even as I join the ocean, runs into the waters in hopes of trying not to lose that which had become so dear. I lose sight quickly, as I am dragged into the everything. I wait to begin again, and I wonder: what will the wolf think of me? Will she believe I left her? Will she stay by the ocean, wondering what she could have done? Will she wait for the rain once again?
Or will she return to where she once was, howling at the moon? There was once a reflection, and now there is only the wolf. So what have I become?
Music in my Life
In a conversation with a new friend today, I came across one of those strange moments of personal insight. It's always nice having moments like that, but today it was a little awkward. This is mostly due to the fact that it happened at work. The insight itself wasn't awkward, of course; it was the strong desire to turn temporarily introspective that made the rest of the day difficult. Still, each of these moments are like a large blast of positive energy in my psyche, so I decided I shouldn't waste the moment and try to turn introspective now, while I have a chance.
I should move on to the revelation. Don't expect anything profound here; move on if you want something huge. I spurt those out in person; these rants are mostly for things I don't expect people to be interested in (well, except you, obviously). Anyway, the discussion was about strange tastes in music. Mine is quite odd. Many of the people I know have very eclectic tastes. It's been curious to me; seriously, even my own taste in music confounds me. I like rap music. Shocking, I know. Sure, I don't like all of it, but then again I really don't like any certain genre, just a few performers within it.
So, today I had my moment where it all started to make sense. I realized that a lot of why I like so many different kinds of music is because of the impact someone (or, in some cases, something) who introduced some aspect of the music to me. I never realized it before because, most of the time, I only really noticed the emotional impact the music would have on me. Today, I managed to trace it back a little more, and found the destination interesting.
It was an interesting revelation; music has become a little more that it was even with the emotional attachment. Now, it appeals to every sense. It's strange now, as listening to music, which was previously just something I did when I was doing something else, has kind of evolved into its own activity. Thankfully, it hasn't restricted my ability to enjoy music as I previously did: many other personal revelations unfortunately came with a downside, such as my general dislike of the ocean (no, I'm not sharing that story right now, so don't ask). But now I have options: I can still simply turn on the music and work on something else, or I can actually just listen to the music and cruise the memories and emotions.
New positive insight. I can't help but enjoy it while it lasts. Of course, I suppose I could just go listen to some MP3s...
I should move on to the revelation. Don't expect anything profound here; move on if you want something huge. I spurt those out in person; these rants are mostly for things I don't expect people to be interested in (well, except you, obviously). Anyway, the discussion was about strange tastes in music. Mine is quite odd. Many of the people I know have very eclectic tastes. It's been curious to me; seriously, even my own taste in music confounds me. I like rap music. Shocking, I know. Sure, I don't like all of it, but then again I really don't like any certain genre, just a few performers within it.
So, today I had my moment where it all started to make sense. I realized that a lot of why I like so many different kinds of music is because of the impact someone (or, in some cases, something) who introduced some aspect of the music to me. I never realized it before because, most of the time, I only really noticed the emotional impact the music would have on me. Today, I managed to trace it back a little more, and found the destination interesting.
It was an interesting revelation; music has become a little more that it was even with the emotional attachment. Now, it appeals to every sense. It's strange now, as listening to music, which was previously just something I did when I was doing something else, has kind of evolved into its own activity. Thankfully, it hasn't restricted my ability to enjoy music as I previously did: many other personal revelations unfortunately came with a downside, such as my general dislike of the ocean (no, I'm not sharing that story right now, so don't ask). But now I have options: I can still simply turn on the music and work on something else, or I can actually just listen to the music and cruise the memories and emotions.
New positive insight. I can't help but enjoy it while it lasts. Of course, I suppose I could just go listen to some MP3s...
His Spider's Web, part 1
Have you heard of the Jorô-Gumo? No, that's a silly question. Even if you did, it wouldn't make much sense here. My story reminds me of the creature, but not the myth. Although, I suppose it may be similar, in a way.
She was as beautiful as the myth said, in the least. So much so that I did, actually, think it was a trap. Not anything supernatural, of course. The locals from the town told many legends about the mountains, about how people go up and never go up, no trace of where they went and their tracks ending in open fields. So when you find an astonishingly beautiful woman in the middle of nowhere on the side of a mountain, it's not hard to think it a hoax.
Still, my curiosity was piqued. She did not approach me. In fact, far as I could tell, she didn't even notice I was there. That didn't fit the hoax: she was supposed to trick me, right? Promise me something, love or riches, and bring me into some sort of web to eat me, right? She did none of this; she simply wandered past, looking for something.
I followed her for a while, and things started to get a little hazy. I'm not sure why, but everything seemed sluggish. I won't forget what I saw next though.
She walked up to what at first looked like a fine, tightly-woven net stretched between trees. A rabbit had caught itself within web, seemingly recently. It struggled to free itself, and did so even more as she approached, but instead only tangled itself more. She reached down and stroked the creature twice. It slowed its struggle for a moment.
Her next few movements were quite fast, and all I could truly tell that happened was the sound a few snaps and her arms had moved in a blur. Less than a second passed before she had taken much of diaphanous thread and wrapped it around the poor creature. I could still see its outline underneath; although it could not move its body outside of a few frantic jerks, I could still see its beady eye moving around desperately underneath the strange cloth.
She then leaned down close to it, as if to kiss the beast. Although I could not make out what happened next, she certainly did something; as she placed the creature down on the earth, it spasmed even more, unable to move off of its side. Its movements quickly began to slow, however. I watched in fascination as its spasms become less violent, and eventually less frequent, until they stopped altogether.
Its one eye that I could make out kept darting this way and that for some time. I felt like it was returning to me, somehow knowing I was watching and pleading for help from the inevitable. It seemed like hours had passed before that eye stopped moving to stare directly at me, as I returned its gaze without pause.
It took me some time to realized that I did not feel revolt or guilt for what I had watched. My entrancement had come from a sense of awe and wonderment, an appreciation of beauty that made me want more. When I realized the source of my new infatuation had disappeared while I watched the last moments of the rabbit, I began to panic.
I was torn between darting off into the forest or trying to check the web, to see if it might lead some place. In the end, indecision kept me rooted for just enough time, as she came back for the rabbit with a few other bundled packages hanging lightly from her hand from a cord of the webbing. She put the bundle down and set to work repairing the hole in the web.
Her hands were fascinating. String formed of its own accord between her fingers as she pressed her hands together and pulled them apart. She played an elaborate dance that moved no part of her body, aside from her swaying arms and the rocking of her head as she watched, a smile across her face and humming from her lips that showed her own enjoyment of the task that pulled me happily in to its strange movements.
It wasn't long before I found myself humming along to the strange tune she sang. My own voice was not the surprise however: the surprise was when I realized the bundles, even the rabbit, were humming along as well, their voices lending a contrasting baritone that gave the song feeling more akin to a dirge than any sort of working song.
She continued to hum as she gathered the bundles once again, the rabbit now strung along with the others. The smile on her face seemed to contradict the solemn music that came from the impossible harmony of spider and her dead victims. I could hardly keep track of my own thoughts as I watched her begin to move off and up a hill within the forest. Still, I managed to remember to stay hidden, as I followed my new affection.
to be continued
She was as beautiful as the myth said, in the least. So much so that I did, actually, think it was a trap. Not anything supernatural, of course. The locals from the town told many legends about the mountains, about how people go up and never go up, no trace of where they went and their tracks ending in open fields. So when you find an astonishingly beautiful woman in the middle of nowhere on the side of a mountain, it's not hard to think it a hoax.
Still, my curiosity was piqued. She did not approach me. In fact, far as I could tell, she didn't even notice I was there. That didn't fit the hoax: she was supposed to trick me, right? Promise me something, love or riches, and bring me into some sort of web to eat me, right? She did none of this; she simply wandered past, looking for something.
I followed her for a while, and things started to get a little hazy. I'm not sure why, but everything seemed sluggish. I won't forget what I saw next though.
She walked up to what at first looked like a fine, tightly-woven net stretched between trees. A rabbit had caught itself within web, seemingly recently. It struggled to free itself, and did so even more as she approached, but instead only tangled itself more. She reached down and stroked the creature twice. It slowed its struggle for a moment.
Her next few movements were quite fast, and all I could truly tell that happened was the sound a few snaps and her arms had moved in a blur. Less than a second passed before she had taken much of diaphanous thread and wrapped it around the poor creature. I could still see its outline underneath; although it could not move its body outside of a few frantic jerks, I could still see its beady eye moving around desperately underneath the strange cloth.
She then leaned down close to it, as if to kiss the beast. Although I could not make out what happened next, she certainly did something; as she placed the creature down on the earth, it spasmed even more, unable to move off of its side. Its movements quickly began to slow, however. I watched in fascination as its spasms become less violent, and eventually less frequent, until they stopped altogether.
Its one eye that I could make out kept darting this way and that for some time. I felt like it was returning to me, somehow knowing I was watching and pleading for help from the inevitable. It seemed like hours had passed before that eye stopped moving to stare directly at me, as I returned its gaze without pause.
It took me some time to realized that I did not feel revolt or guilt for what I had watched. My entrancement had come from a sense of awe and wonderment, an appreciation of beauty that made me want more. When I realized the source of my new infatuation had disappeared while I watched the last moments of the rabbit, I began to panic.
I was torn between darting off into the forest or trying to check the web, to see if it might lead some place. In the end, indecision kept me rooted for just enough time, as she came back for the rabbit with a few other bundled packages hanging lightly from her hand from a cord of the webbing. She put the bundle down and set to work repairing the hole in the web.
Her hands were fascinating. String formed of its own accord between her fingers as she pressed her hands together and pulled them apart. She played an elaborate dance that moved no part of her body, aside from her swaying arms and the rocking of her head as she watched, a smile across her face and humming from her lips that showed her own enjoyment of the task that pulled me happily in to its strange movements.
It wasn't long before I found myself humming along to the strange tune she sang. My own voice was not the surprise however: the surprise was when I realized the bundles, even the rabbit, were humming along as well, their voices lending a contrasting baritone that gave the song feeling more akin to a dirge than any sort of working song.
She continued to hum as she gathered the bundles once again, the rabbit now strung along with the others. The smile on her face seemed to contradict the solemn music that came from the impossible harmony of spider and her dead victims. I could hardly keep track of my own thoughts as I watched her begin to move off and up a hill within the forest. Still, I managed to remember to stay hidden, as I followed my new affection.
to be continued
Radix: Races and Creatures
I actually have a long document on a bunch of the races that are present throughout Radix. Aside from humans, which are present everywhere but only prolific on Aracanoc, each country has its own humanoid and monstrous races. The lines between "humanoid" and "monstrous" are blurred in some cases, but the point still stands. The document I have explains many of the races already, going over their origins (or what they thought was their origins, in some cases) and statistics.
However, the point of this blog is to get me writing, not copying and pasting. Maybe I'll include that here some other time, but for right now I'll summarize what I remember and try to concentrate on what wasn't in the document.
So, there's eight main "humanoid" races within the world (Humanoid is in quotes because a few of them, such as the Aequorians, only resemble humans in the fact they have two arms and two legs). I'll list put them here in the order of most populace to least. First listed, of course, are the Humans. Physcially, they're self-explanatory. They exist on every continent, although far more prolific on Aracanoc than anywhere else. They are considered adaptable but dedicated, and are often leaders within many organizations due their singled-minded devotion to causes. Most other races, especially on Aracanoc, have a healthy respect/fear of them, and tend to alternate between trying to avoid them, and trying to ride on their coattails.
Dwarves are the most populous race in Hydranatos, as well as they are the second-most numerous of races in Declaria, marking them as the second-most common humanoid race in the world. Although they *can* live longer than humans (lasting almost two full generations), most do not, as they tend to be adventuresome and brash, dying at ages that make humans seem elderly due to the damage their body undergoes in their youth. The exceptions lie within the highest of the clergy and noble houses of Hydranatos, where the strict training helps guide most of the young away from their impulsive nature in order to be upstanding citizens.
The Beastkin are the primary race within Declaria. On the surface, they look like short humans with broad frames. Each tends to take on an aspect of the animal or creature they bond with, a rite every beastkin goes through during puberty. Those that do not find themselves stricken with a sickness that causes them to waste away as they can no longer process food they eat. They are individually strong, and their time spent developing their kinship with a creature of the forest makes them a bit feral compared to most others. There are a number of them who have migrated to Aracanoc, although those present there tend to be "darker" in nature; Beastkin native to these lands usually have to find stranger creatures than those in Declaria at the time of their bonding, and this can have strange effects on their personalities. A Beastkin's lifespan is almost completely dependent on the creature to which it bonds; unfortunately, picking and choosing a creature is no simple matter, so factors like these do not have much weight.
Pennatus, a race of thin, pale human-looking people with colorful, feathered wings, are native to the mountains of Hydranatos, although there a quite a few of them in Aracanoc as well. They are considered a "war-like" race, although they tend to think of themselves as political: battles are often run between village to settle disputes of land or kin, but these battles are normally governed by codes of honor and propriety. Most Pennatus that are present in Aracanoc were forced there at some point or another, in contrast to the Beastkin who arrived there seeking power. Some Pennatus have a natural affinity to Elemental Magic that can manifest at a young age; however, due to some strange event in their past, this is viewed as a curse. Most any village along the mountain will expel any young Pennatus showing a natural inclination towards magic, regardless of stature or family upbringing. Exiles eventually find their way to Aracanoc, for training, hope or revenge.
Defams are one of the only two races on Radix which are not "naturally occurring" within the world, although many of them would be happy to debate their origins with you. Defams are originally animal familiars to a wizard that, through some strange magics either accidental or on-purpose, were given the intelligence and arcane knowledge of their masters, and shifted to a form that resembles a sort of half-human, half-animal form. Although the most common are rats, cats and snakes, all manners of animals from all over the world have known to become Defams, some far more exotic than others. Native to Aracanoc, Defams are unable to reproduce on their own (although some have been able to create others through a similar process to how they were made), and so are not found in other parts of the world unless traveling or relocating for some purpose. Defams, being magical by nature, live enormously long: none have been known to die of old age, but most tend to be somewhat fragile by nature, betraying the appearance of immortality.
Aequorians are widely considered the "rarest" of species, although in truth there are far more of them then they let the "flat-heels" believe. Most of them live within the enormous mountain in the center of Hydranatos, although quite a few live within the city (in fact, many of them hold high positions within the clergy), and there are always at least two that live near either end of each gate that supplies water to the other continents. Aequorians are amphibious, with elongated, webbed fingers and toes spreading from short palms and heels. Their skin is oily and shines in various blues and greens that allows them to blend into the waterways where they spend much of their time, and have bulbous eyes that sit near the tops of their heads much like a frog's. Their mouths resemble a human's, although not as wide and with thicker lips and their teeth are far thicker, especially farther back. They have no nose, instead relying on large, round "scent glands" located behind the small holes they have for ears. They're a very spiritual/religious people, having a much deeper and complicated religion and, in a way, connection to the world. As such, they're one of the only races with an affinity for learning two types of magic, both Celestial and Terrestrial. The few rare Aequorians who can practice both are normally revered as the wisest among them, elevated to leaders within their communities and hidden to outsiders.
The People of the Stone are tall, lanky and have greyish but subtly-pigmented skin. They're a slow moving but outgoing folk, overly friendly to the point of seeming pushy or untrustworthy to many others. Due to their heritage, they weight almost four times that of a human of comparable size; as such, they tend to be terribly fit, despite their thin builds and apparent laziness. They're native to Declaria but can often be found in the other nations. This is mostly because, once they get settled in an area, it's not always easy to get them out again. They don't tend to pursue powerful positions or magic normally, mostly because of how much they tend to annoy their teachers with their slow movements and fast talking, but those that do learn are often amongst the best, both because of the time spent learning to gain a deeper understanding as well as the amount of time one of the People can devote to the study. The People are the longest living of the "naturally occurring" races, the oldest having lived almost a millenia before finally "returning to the stone."
The Deadless are the other race that was not "naturally occuring", although their similarities to the Defams end there. Most commonly the end result of necromancy experiments gone horribly wrong, a soul will be reinserted fully into an undead body, causing it to become reanimated but completely autonomous and aware. The problem is that the soul, normally one of someone just recently deceased at the time of the experiment, rarely is the same as originally inhabited the body, causing some very strange and problematic situations beyond the simple fact they're walking around in a corpse. These occurrences happen far too often, due to the risky nature of trying to use Necromatic Elemental energy to create a semblance of life that goes against nature, but many wizards consider the rewards great enough to accept the risk. As such, Deadless, despite their very limited lifespan within these forms (normally only a few months and rarely over a year) have a strong presence within Aracanoc, although they are almost never seen outside the city. Certain Deadless, especially ones in bodies that are normally intelligent such as mummies, run into issues trying to convince others that they're not just another Undead. Still others, like the rare few that find themselves inhabiting the body of a vampire, find it hard to convince themselves that they're not, in fact, just another member of an undead horde until something happens to make it obvious (i.e., vampire deadless must still drink blood to live, but are not harmed by sunlight).
Ok, all for now. I think I'll come back and approach some monster races later.
However, the point of this blog is to get me writing, not copying and pasting. Maybe I'll include that here some other time, but for right now I'll summarize what I remember and try to concentrate on what wasn't in the document.
So, there's eight main "humanoid" races within the world (Humanoid is in quotes because a few of them, such as the Aequorians, only resemble humans in the fact they have two arms and two legs). I'll list put them here in the order of most populace to least. First listed, of course, are the Humans. Physcially, they're self-explanatory. They exist on every continent, although far more prolific on Aracanoc than anywhere else. They are considered adaptable but dedicated, and are often leaders within many organizations due their singled-minded devotion to causes. Most other races, especially on Aracanoc, have a healthy respect/fear of them, and tend to alternate between trying to avoid them, and trying to ride on their coattails.
Dwarves are the most populous race in Hydranatos, as well as they are the second-most numerous of races in Declaria, marking them as the second-most common humanoid race in the world. Although they *can* live longer than humans (lasting almost two full generations), most do not, as they tend to be adventuresome and brash, dying at ages that make humans seem elderly due to the damage their body undergoes in their youth. The exceptions lie within the highest of the clergy and noble houses of Hydranatos, where the strict training helps guide most of the young away from their impulsive nature in order to be upstanding citizens.
The Beastkin are the primary race within Declaria. On the surface, they look like short humans with broad frames. Each tends to take on an aspect of the animal or creature they bond with, a rite every beastkin goes through during puberty. Those that do not find themselves stricken with a sickness that causes them to waste away as they can no longer process food they eat. They are individually strong, and their time spent developing their kinship with a creature of the forest makes them a bit feral compared to most others. There are a number of them who have migrated to Aracanoc, although those present there tend to be "darker" in nature; Beastkin native to these lands usually have to find stranger creatures than those in Declaria at the time of their bonding, and this can have strange effects on their personalities. A Beastkin's lifespan is almost completely dependent on the creature to which it bonds; unfortunately, picking and choosing a creature is no simple matter, so factors like these do not have much weight.
Pennatus, a race of thin, pale human-looking people with colorful, feathered wings, are native to the mountains of Hydranatos, although there a quite a few of them in Aracanoc as well. They are considered a "war-like" race, although they tend to think of themselves as political: battles are often run between village to settle disputes of land or kin, but these battles are normally governed by codes of honor and propriety. Most Pennatus that are present in Aracanoc were forced there at some point or another, in contrast to the Beastkin who arrived there seeking power. Some Pennatus have a natural affinity to Elemental Magic that can manifest at a young age; however, due to some strange event in their past, this is viewed as a curse. Most any village along the mountain will expel any young Pennatus showing a natural inclination towards magic, regardless of stature or family upbringing. Exiles eventually find their way to Aracanoc, for training, hope or revenge.
Defams are one of the only two races on Radix which are not "naturally occurring" within the world, although many of them would be happy to debate their origins with you. Defams are originally animal familiars to a wizard that, through some strange magics either accidental or on-purpose, were given the intelligence and arcane knowledge of their masters, and shifted to a form that resembles a sort of half-human, half-animal form. Although the most common are rats, cats and snakes, all manners of animals from all over the world have known to become Defams, some far more exotic than others. Native to Aracanoc, Defams are unable to reproduce on their own (although some have been able to create others through a similar process to how they were made), and so are not found in other parts of the world unless traveling or relocating for some purpose. Defams, being magical by nature, live enormously long: none have been known to die of old age, but most tend to be somewhat fragile by nature, betraying the appearance of immortality.
Aequorians are widely considered the "rarest" of species, although in truth there are far more of them then they let the "flat-heels" believe. Most of them live within the enormous mountain in the center of Hydranatos, although quite a few live within the city (in fact, many of them hold high positions within the clergy), and there are always at least two that live near either end of each gate that supplies water to the other continents. Aequorians are amphibious, with elongated, webbed fingers and toes spreading from short palms and heels. Their skin is oily and shines in various blues and greens that allows them to blend into the waterways where they spend much of their time, and have bulbous eyes that sit near the tops of their heads much like a frog's. Their mouths resemble a human's, although not as wide and with thicker lips and their teeth are far thicker, especially farther back. They have no nose, instead relying on large, round "scent glands" located behind the small holes they have for ears. They're a very spiritual/religious people, having a much deeper and complicated religion and, in a way, connection to the world. As such, they're one of the only races with an affinity for learning two types of magic, both Celestial and Terrestrial. The few rare Aequorians who can practice both are normally revered as the wisest among them, elevated to leaders within their communities and hidden to outsiders.
The People of the Stone are tall, lanky and have greyish but subtly-pigmented skin. They're a slow moving but outgoing folk, overly friendly to the point of seeming pushy or untrustworthy to many others. Due to their heritage, they weight almost four times that of a human of comparable size; as such, they tend to be terribly fit, despite their thin builds and apparent laziness. They're native to Declaria but can often be found in the other nations. This is mostly because, once they get settled in an area, it's not always easy to get them out again. They don't tend to pursue powerful positions or magic normally, mostly because of how much they tend to annoy their teachers with their slow movements and fast talking, but those that do learn are often amongst the best, both because of the time spent learning to gain a deeper understanding as well as the amount of time one of the People can devote to the study. The People are the longest living of the "naturally occurring" races, the oldest having lived almost a millenia before finally "returning to the stone."
The Deadless are the other race that was not "naturally occuring", although their similarities to the Defams end there. Most commonly the end result of necromancy experiments gone horribly wrong, a soul will be reinserted fully into an undead body, causing it to become reanimated but completely autonomous and aware. The problem is that the soul, normally one of someone just recently deceased at the time of the experiment, rarely is the same as originally inhabited the body, causing some very strange and problematic situations beyond the simple fact they're walking around in a corpse. These occurrences happen far too often, due to the risky nature of trying to use Necromatic Elemental energy to create a semblance of life that goes against nature, but many wizards consider the rewards great enough to accept the risk. As such, Deadless, despite their very limited lifespan within these forms (normally only a few months and rarely over a year) have a strong presence within Aracanoc, although they are almost never seen outside the city. Certain Deadless, especially ones in bodies that are normally intelligent such as mummies, run into issues trying to convince others that they're not just another Undead. Still others, like the rare few that find themselves inhabiting the body of a vampire, find it hard to convince themselves that they're not, in fact, just another member of an undead horde until something happens to make it obvious (i.e., vampire deadless must still drink blood to live, but are not harmed by sunlight).
Ok, all for now. I think I'll come back and approach some monster races later.
Precipitous Bar, part 8
Click here to start at beginning, or here to read the previous entry. Fair warning: don't start here if you want to avoid spoiling the story.
Harriet closed her door behind her and locked it. Dropping her backpack on the floor, careful despite happy she was to be rid of it, she stretched her shoulders. Despite the break during the drive home, her back still ached from carry the heavy thing for the majority of the week. Still, she got a lot done; she finally had enough material to finish her latest book.
Harriet still wasn't sure why she was so devoted to writing this book. The past few years had been kind, and she could live comfortably off the sales of her last few publications. Still, one isn't called the "premier name in entomological behavior sciences" by relying on one's previous successes. She had to keep getting out into the field.
It wasn't easy, though. Each trip out was a gentle reminder, and there was only so many times you can jump into a stream and start randomly walking downstream before your team starts to ask questions. Questions that you really do not want to answer.
Still, today was a good day. She had her needed material. She managed to catch two previously categorized beetle species for examination. And judging by the car parked outside, Victoria came home today.
Having her daughter living at the university during the day made this a bit difficult on Harriet. She felt she had just gotten used to having someone else in the home, and it being as empty as it was proved difficult at times. She had thought about getting a dog, but her work kept her out of the home for long periods of time now. She felt the travel was much more needed than the animal companionship.
Still, it was nice to receive visitors. Even if, in her mind, the "visitor" still lived there.
Harriet walked in to the kitchen where--sure enough--her daughter was rummaging in the fridge, hunched over like a thief trying to make themselves as small as possible.
"Well, I'm glad you don't feel the need to ask for food within the home, Vicky."
The girl jumped, barely managing to avoid hitting her head on the door. She spun around, obviously surprised and trying to look upset but failing. She couldn't help the grin that was crossing her face upon hearing her name.
"You know I asked you to call me Victoria now, Harriet," she said, one hand on her hip and one hand gesturing at her with the apple.
Harriet came around the counter between them to give the girl a hug. Well, maybe not so much a girl any more. "And I asked you to call me Mom. Guess neither of us are getting our wishes today, hmm?"
"Hey, at least I managed to stop calling you 'Miss Stanford.'"
"After you managed to ruin a few business dinners with extreme awkwardness, yes." Harriet pulled back from the embrace and looked at her. No matter how old she got, Harriet still pictured her as the girl she took out to the field ten years ago. "You look well. Classes going alright?"
Vicky rolled her eyes. "Like they're ever not."
Harriet took the apple from Vicky's hand. "Good. Then let's have dinner, instead of snacking. And I'm glad to see you're grabbing apples instead of the Jello in the back."
"There was Jello??"
Harriet laughed. Every day she was around Victoria she was reminded just how lucky she was. Things could have gone very differently ten years ago when they came back from the Precipitous Bar. Surprisingly, though, everything ended up being for the best. Well, mostly for the best.
"How is your dad?"
Victoria's happy demeanor slid for a moment. She managed to keep a hold of her smile, but a sadness entered her eyes. "He's doing fine, all things told. How did you know I'd gone to see him?"
"We spent a year together in a place where your feelings took physical form. You don't come out of something like that without being able to read each other a little better."
She nodded. There was more than once that the situation had been reversed, and she had caught Harriet trying to keep some sort of secret from her. Such as when Harriet was trying to figure out how to explain to a young girl what had happened to her father that she no longer saw.
"I think he's actually better. It's been a long time, I know, and I don't want to fall into the old hopeful habits. But he actually thanked me today."
"Thanked you? Really? Did he say for what?"
"For leaving. I think he's finally come to understand why I did, and what he did to..." she stopped at this point. The smile faded for a moment, but came back quickly. "It's hard, sometimes, to deal with all of this."
"You made the right decision, Victoria. You stood up to the abuse, the hardest step for someone in your shoes, and managed to stop it without it consuming who you were."
She smiled now, genuinely. "It only took me a year to figure that out, though. A full year in the Precipitous Bar. Strange how that worked out."
"On the contrary," Harriet said, grinning back. "It only took you five hours. It may have seemed like a year to the two of us, but only a few hours passed here." She crossed her arms, but kept her smile. "I thought we agreed not to talk about our time at the bar, anyway?"
"That doesn't mean I don't think about it. And don't tell me you don't, too. I can tell every time it does, and it's almost every time you see me." Harriet shrugged her shoulders, but didn't deny it.
"I don't..." Victoria paused, and her tone turned serious. "I don't think I've thanked you enough for everything you did for me when we got back."
"You have, actually. More than enough." Harriet locked eyes with Vicky, trying to make sure she realized her seriousness. It was a conversation they had repeated time and again; Harriet found herself wondering if Vicky would ever stop feeling like she was a burden. "I am so glad I had the opportunity to take you in when you needed me. Although, to be honest, I think we owe Evan's parents more than anything else. They made me sound like a hero at your hearing, and I don't think it would have worked out any other way."
"But if it wasn't for them, you may not have lost your job at the school." She suddenly seemed very distracted by something by her feet.
Harriet knew what she was leaving unsaid. Vicky felt she and Evan were responsible for the school board having her removed. It was a feeling Harriet had been trying to help Vicky fight since she was young. It wasn't a battle she was winning; Vicky suffered from a guilty conscious that was more stubborn than both of them put together. Still, she was obligated to try.
"You know, maybe I should thank them for that, too," she said, putting back on the charming smile. "Since I finally stopped teaching at that school, I've become very successful. I even got to teach at the university for a few years! I can't be too upset at the opportunities that have come my way."
Vicky nodded, forcing a smile that slowly grew into a real one. "Do you every think about it? I mean, really think about what happened while we were there?"
"Of course. I'm reminded almost every day." Harriet turned and walked over to the kitchen window, glancing out. "I still talk to his parents, you know. They haven't heard from him either. It still shocks me how well they took the news."
"Well, they weren't exactly surprised. Evan told him what he was doing from the beginning. Half their family had a tendency to disappear looking for this place. At least they knew for certain that Evan had found it."
"I suppose that's why they never pressed charges, despite pressure from the school board." Harriet sighed. It was hard thinking about Evan. For all the help she was able to give Vicky, she always regretted that she couldn't help Evan. "I wonder what he's doing now. It's had to have been close to twenty thousand years that have passed over there."
"Well, I wanted to give you a gift for helping me out all this time," Vicky said. Although Harriet wasn't looking at her, she could feel her excitement. "So, here it is. Now you can ask him yourself."
Harriet swung around. From the nearby hallway strode a tall man. He had slightly lighter hair, and his skin was so pale he almost seemed to be painted white. His ears stuck out at a strange angle from his head and came to points, and his nose seemed smaller than she remembered. But the eyes, the expressions, the rough cheekbones and pointed chin were all the same. The man standing before her was unmistakeably--
"Evan."
He smiled, the same broad smile he had used so many years ago when he lead Harriet to the fantastical world of the Precipitous Bar. Harriet walked over to him slowly. He opened his arms in an obvious invitation. Harriet found herself touching his arm first, trying to make sure he was real, before leaning in for hug. Evan's arms obliged gratefully.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came here for you."
Harriet pushed away, looking up. "What? Why?"
He smiled. "I'm sorry to be abrupt, but I don't have a lot of time here; days pass there as I speak. The goblins have come in to the bar for the first time that any can remember. They demand their Hobgoblin return, that we bring her to them."
Harriet looked at him, confused. Victoria spoke up. "Don't you remember? That group of them called you Hobgoblin on when we were leaving. You said one goblin called you that as you entered the bar, too."
Harriet stared at her for a moment before nodding. She walked briskly into her room, Evan and Victoria following not too far behind. Evan was calling after her, obviously worried she was trying to avoid going.
As they came into her bedroom, Harriet threw a pair of large bundles at them. Evan quickly unwrapped his; it contained a large bow and quiver of arrows, as well as a long sword tucked into a thick leather sheath.
Victoria watched, confused. She unwrapped hers to find a set of daggers, and a fantasy role playing book. She hefted the book and looked at Harriet quizzically. "What is this for?"
"Focus," Harriet said, as she took a strange looking, cloth-wrapped wooden rod down from the wall. "You can use it to help you with your... Well, I guess your 'magic' that you use while we're over there." Pulling the staff apart from the middle, she drew two wickedly sharp looking blades from the sheaths contained within. The blades were thick, hand-folded steel; Harriet had spent a small fortune buying them ages ago, and now was very happy for the time spent training with them and keeping them in good shape.
"I can't go. I've got school in a few months! Who knows how long we'll be gone??"
"Even if we were there for a hundred years, you'd still have the rest of the summer to spend." She smiled at her. "Besides, you really want to miss your chance to go back?"
It only took Vicky a moment before she shook her head. "I miss it more than anything."
Harriet grabbed a few more things she thought might be important and stuffed them into the pockets of a long coat she kept for travel. It was light, but it covered a lot, and had enough pockets to hold most anything she wanted to bring along without looking too conspicuous.
It had been a curious few years indeed.
"So what do they want from me anyway?" Harriet asked as they made their way out the front door and to Vicky's car.
"C'mon, now, Harriet," Evan said, in high spirits. "You really don't think I'd come bother you here for anything short of slaying a dragon, right?"
Harriet laughed for a moment, until she realized she was the only one doing so. She looked at the two of them, both with serious, but excited, expressions. They stood there as such, standing outside of Vicky's car, sharing a moment of awkward silence.
"Wait, what?"
Fin
Harriet closed her door behind her and locked it. Dropping her backpack on the floor, careful despite happy she was to be rid of it, she stretched her shoulders. Despite the break during the drive home, her back still ached from carry the heavy thing for the majority of the week. Still, she got a lot done; she finally had enough material to finish her latest book.
Harriet still wasn't sure why she was so devoted to writing this book. The past few years had been kind, and she could live comfortably off the sales of her last few publications. Still, one isn't called the "premier name in entomological behavior sciences" by relying on one's previous successes. She had to keep getting out into the field.
It wasn't easy, though. Each trip out was a gentle reminder, and there was only so many times you can jump into a stream and start randomly walking downstream before your team starts to ask questions. Questions that you really do not want to answer.
Still, today was a good day. She had her needed material. She managed to catch two previously categorized beetle species for examination. And judging by the car parked outside, Victoria came home today.
Having her daughter living at the university during the day made this a bit difficult on Harriet. She felt she had just gotten used to having someone else in the home, and it being as empty as it was proved difficult at times. She had thought about getting a dog, but her work kept her out of the home for long periods of time now. She felt the travel was much more needed than the animal companionship.
Still, it was nice to receive visitors. Even if, in her mind, the "visitor" still lived there.
Harriet walked in to the kitchen where--sure enough--her daughter was rummaging in the fridge, hunched over like a thief trying to make themselves as small as possible.
"Well, I'm glad you don't feel the need to ask for food within the home, Vicky."
The girl jumped, barely managing to avoid hitting her head on the door. She spun around, obviously surprised and trying to look upset but failing. She couldn't help the grin that was crossing her face upon hearing her name.
"You know I asked you to call me Victoria now, Harriet," she said, one hand on her hip and one hand gesturing at her with the apple.
Harriet came around the counter between them to give the girl a hug. Well, maybe not so much a girl any more. "And I asked you to call me Mom. Guess neither of us are getting our wishes today, hmm?"
"Hey, at least I managed to stop calling you 'Miss Stanford.'"
"After you managed to ruin a few business dinners with extreme awkwardness, yes." Harriet pulled back from the embrace and looked at her. No matter how old she got, Harriet still pictured her as the girl she took out to the field ten years ago. "You look well. Classes going alright?"
Vicky rolled her eyes. "Like they're ever not."
Harriet took the apple from Vicky's hand. "Good. Then let's have dinner, instead of snacking. And I'm glad to see you're grabbing apples instead of the Jello in the back."
"There was Jello??"
Harriet laughed. Every day she was around Victoria she was reminded just how lucky she was. Things could have gone very differently ten years ago when they came back from the Precipitous Bar. Surprisingly, though, everything ended up being for the best. Well, mostly for the best.
"How is your dad?"
Victoria's happy demeanor slid for a moment. She managed to keep a hold of her smile, but a sadness entered her eyes. "He's doing fine, all things told. How did you know I'd gone to see him?"
"We spent a year together in a place where your feelings took physical form. You don't come out of something like that without being able to read each other a little better."
She nodded. There was more than once that the situation had been reversed, and she had caught Harriet trying to keep some sort of secret from her. Such as when Harriet was trying to figure out how to explain to a young girl what had happened to her father that she no longer saw.
"I think he's actually better. It's been a long time, I know, and I don't want to fall into the old hopeful habits. But he actually thanked me today."
"Thanked you? Really? Did he say for what?"
"For leaving. I think he's finally come to understand why I did, and what he did to..." she stopped at this point. The smile faded for a moment, but came back quickly. "It's hard, sometimes, to deal with all of this."
"You made the right decision, Victoria. You stood up to the abuse, the hardest step for someone in your shoes, and managed to stop it without it consuming who you were."
She smiled now, genuinely. "It only took me a year to figure that out, though. A full year in the Precipitous Bar. Strange how that worked out."
"On the contrary," Harriet said, grinning back. "It only took you five hours. It may have seemed like a year to the two of us, but only a few hours passed here." She crossed her arms, but kept her smile. "I thought we agreed not to talk about our time at the bar, anyway?"
"That doesn't mean I don't think about it. And don't tell me you don't, too. I can tell every time it does, and it's almost every time you see me." Harriet shrugged her shoulders, but didn't deny it.
"I don't..." Victoria paused, and her tone turned serious. "I don't think I've thanked you enough for everything you did for me when we got back."
"You have, actually. More than enough." Harriet locked eyes with Vicky, trying to make sure she realized her seriousness. It was a conversation they had repeated time and again; Harriet found herself wondering if Vicky would ever stop feeling like she was a burden. "I am so glad I had the opportunity to take you in when you needed me. Although, to be honest, I think we owe Evan's parents more than anything else. They made me sound like a hero at your hearing, and I don't think it would have worked out any other way."
"But if it wasn't for them, you may not have lost your job at the school." She suddenly seemed very distracted by something by her feet.
Harriet knew what she was leaving unsaid. Vicky felt she and Evan were responsible for the school board having her removed. It was a feeling Harriet had been trying to help Vicky fight since she was young. It wasn't a battle she was winning; Vicky suffered from a guilty conscious that was more stubborn than both of them put together. Still, she was obligated to try.
"You know, maybe I should thank them for that, too," she said, putting back on the charming smile. "Since I finally stopped teaching at that school, I've become very successful. I even got to teach at the university for a few years! I can't be too upset at the opportunities that have come my way."
Vicky nodded, forcing a smile that slowly grew into a real one. "Do you every think about it? I mean, really think about what happened while we were there?"
"Of course. I'm reminded almost every day." Harriet turned and walked over to the kitchen window, glancing out. "I still talk to his parents, you know. They haven't heard from him either. It still shocks me how well they took the news."
"Well, they weren't exactly surprised. Evan told him what he was doing from the beginning. Half their family had a tendency to disappear looking for this place. At least they knew for certain that Evan had found it."
"I suppose that's why they never pressed charges, despite pressure from the school board." Harriet sighed. It was hard thinking about Evan. For all the help she was able to give Vicky, she always regretted that she couldn't help Evan. "I wonder what he's doing now. It's had to have been close to twenty thousand years that have passed over there."
"Well, I wanted to give you a gift for helping me out all this time," Vicky said. Although Harriet wasn't looking at her, she could feel her excitement. "So, here it is. Now you can ask him yourself."
Harriet swung around. From the nearby hallway strode a tall man. He had slightly lighter hair, and his skin was so pale he almost seemed to be painted white. His ears stuck out at a strange angle from his head and came to points, and his nose seemed smaller than she remembered. But the eyes, the expressions, the rough cheekbones and pointed chin were all the same. The man standing before her was unmistakeably--
"Evan."
He smiled, the same broad smile he had used so many years ago when he lead Harriet to the fantastical world of the Precipitous Bar. Harriet walked over to him slowly. He opened his arms in an obvious invitation. Harriet found herself touching his arm first, trying to make sure he was real, before leaning in for hug. Evan's arms obliged gratefully.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came here for you."
Harriet pushed away, looking up. "What? Why?"
He smiled. "I'm sorry to be abrupt, but I don't have a lot of time here; days pass there as I speak. The goblins have come in to the bar for the first time that any can remember. They demand their Hobgoblin return, that we bring her to them."
Harriet looked at him, confused. Victoria spoke up. "Don't you remember? That group of them called you Hobgoblin on when we were leaving. You said one goblin called you that as you entered the bar, too."
Harriet stared at her for a moment before nodding. She walked briskly into her room, Evan and Victoria following not too far behind. Evan was calling after her, obviously worried she was trying to avoid going.
As they came into her bedroom, Harriet threw a pair of large bundles at them. Evan quickly unwrapped his; it contained a large bow and quiver of arrows, as well as a long sword tucked into a thick leather sheath.
Victoria watched, confused. She unwrapped hers to find a set of daggers, and a fantasy role playing book. She hefted the book and looked at Harriet quizzically. "What is this for?"
"Focus," Harriet said, as she took a strange looking, cloth-wrapped wooden rod down from the wall. "You can use it to help you with your... Well, I guess your 'magic' that you use while we're over there." Pulling the staff apart from the middle, she drew two wickedly sharp looking blades from the sheaths contained within. The blades were thick, hand-folded steel; Harriet had spent a small fortune buying them ages ago, and now was very happy for the time spent training with them and keeping them in good shape.
"I can't go. I've got school in a few months! Who knows how long we'll be gone??"
"Even if we were there for a hundred years, you'd still have the rest of the summer to spend." She smiled at her. "Besides, you really want to miss your chance to go back?"
It only took Vicky a moment before she shook her head. "I miss it more than anything."
Harriet grabbed a few more things she thought might be important and stuffed them into the pockets of a long coat she kept for travel. It was light, but it covered a lot, and had enough pockets to hold most anything she wanted to bring along without looking too conspicuous.
It had been a curious few years indeed.
"So what do they want from me anyway?" Harriet asked as they made their way out the front door and to Vicky's car.
"C'mon, now, Harriet," Evan said, in high spirits. "You really don't think I'd come bother you here for anything short of slaying a dragon, right?"
Harriet laughed for a moment, until she realized she was the only one doing so. She looked at the two of them, both with serious, but excited, expressions. They stood there as such, standing outside of Vicky's car, sharing a moment of awkward silence.
"Wait, what?"
Fin
A Little Reflection
Well, I'm coming close to the end of the Precipitous Bar. It was a strange journey, to say the least. I have had a tendency that, when inspiration hits me on something like this, to simply tell the story. It happens a lot, to be honest. I've made some efforts previously to try to write these sort of things down, but infrequently. I've always considered myself more of a storyteller than anything else, but as was pointed out to me, it's not that big of a jump to go from a storyteller to a writer.
The problem I used to run into when trying to translate the thoughts to the page was more of a time thing. The necessities of work, responsibilities, social life and an effort to relax periodically kind of restrained me from investing the time and effort that I would put in to writing. Honestly, let's face it: although you may love it, although you may enjoy doing it, writing can be stressful. Well, for a purpose, or to accomplish something anyway. Writing for the hell of it can be liberating.
Still, there's a lot of work that goes into getting a story on paper (or, in my case, on the intarwebs) that you don't have to worry about when you're just happy to tell people the stories. Fact checking, settings information, outlining/pacing the story... It can get crazy. Even the act of writing itself, trying to get the words down while the story is still trying to move in your head, can cause issues. You find yourself jumping ahead, or going back and fixing items instead of trying to continue where you are.
The bar was different, though. This was sudden; it came all at once, not like most of my typical stories. Granted, parts of it did still require fixing in order to make the story work, but it wasn't the slow business of trying to grow the story from a seed. It was awesome to come to it all at once, but it gave its own complications. Specifically, trying to get the story down (and not get burn out part way, my biggest weakness) without forgetting it.
The size of the story made it a bit easier, thankfully. And honestly, I didn't really concern myself with a lot of the issues I normally approach in most of my writing; I didn't worry about specific pacing, interest or really anything other than getting it down. Heck, I've even been lectured on grammar use in part of it, and I didn't go back and correct it. Yeah, I know. I didn't correct a grammatical mistake. It's like years of well-trained OCD, all down the drain.
In the end, though, I think it was good for me. I have a bad tendency to get burnt-out on writing in most situations; I don't tend to get a lot of feedback, positive or negative, on a lot of my fiction writing, so I tend to lose my drive to continue to do so. Non-fiction or personal writing, sure, but for some reason the stories get overlooked. Well, I assume they do; either that, or everyone is creepily quiet about it, which could be a good or bad thing.
Still, the point is, I've just about finished this one, and I finished it for me. I didn't really have any particular reason to do so (well, Shae did tell me she was growing impatient with waiting on more, but honestly I missed most of those comments until recently, anyway...), but I still managed to keep myself motivated and in-charge. Here's hoping that I can keep this attitude up. I've got a lot more I'd like to get done.
Here's hoping I can find my notes, too... I still can't find my folder with all my info on Deciduoh and Aeternus, and I want to at least include some pictures if nothing else. Ah well. Thanks for reading, if you made it this far!
The problem I used to run into when trying to translate the thoughts to the page was more of a time thing. The necessities of work, responsibilities, social life and an effort to relax periodically kind of restrained me from investing the time and effort that I would put in to writing. Honestly, let's face it: although you may love it, although you may enjoy doing it, writing can be stressful. Well, for a purpose, or to accomplish something anyway. Writing for the hell of it can be liberating.
Still, there's a lot of work that goes into getting a story on paper (or, in my case, on the intarwebs) that you don't have to worry about when you're just happy to tell people the stories. Fact checking, settings information, outlining/pacing the story... It can get crazy. Even the act of writing itself, trying to get the words down while the story is still trying to move in your head, can cause issues. You find yourself jumping ahead, or going back and fixing items instead of trying to continue where you are.
The bar was different, though. This was sudden; it came all at once, not like most of my typical stories. Granted, parts of it did still require fixing in order to make the story work, but it wasn't the slow business of trying to grow the story from a seed. It was awesome to come to it all at once, but it gave its own complications. Specifically, trying to get the story down (and not get burn out part way, my biggest weakness) without forgetting it.
The size of the story made it a bit easier, thankfully. And honestly, I didn't really concern myself with a lot of the issues I normally approach in most of my writing; I didn't worry about specific pacing, interest or really anything other than getting it down. Heck, I've even been lectured on grammar use in part of it, and I didn't go back and correct it. Yeah, I know. I didn't correct a grammatical mistake. It's like years of well-trained OCD, all down the drain.
In the end, though, I think it was good for me. I have a bad tendency to get burnt-out on writing in most situations; I don't tend to get a lot of feedback, positive or negative, on a lot of my fiction writing, so I tend to lose my drive to continue to do so. Non-fiction or personal writing, sure, but for some reason the stories get overlooked. Well, I assume they do; either that, or everyone is creepily quiet about it, which could be a good or bad thing.
Still, the point is, I've just about finished this one, and I finished it for me. I didn't really have any particular reason to do so (well, Shae did tell me she was growing impatient with waiting on more, but honestly I missed most of those comments until recently, anyway...), but I still managed to keep myself motivated and in-charge. Here's hoping that I can keep this attitude up. I've got a lot more I'd like to get done.
Here's hoping I can find my notes, too... I still can't find my folder with all my info on Deciduoh and Aeternus, and I want to at least include some pictures if nothing else. Ah well. Thanks for reading, if you made it this far!
The Precipitous Bar, part 7
Click here to start at beginning, or here to read the previous entry. Fair warning: we're coming close to the end, so don't start here if you want to avoid spoiling the story.
Although their was enough light to see by within the maze of cages, there was no mistaking the bright opening as anything but the outside. The warm light of the eternal dusk seemed to beckon as Harriet found herself actually having to jog to keep up with Vicky's steady pace.
Evan managed to avoid being drug through the intervening space, getting his feet under him soon after they started out. Eventually, he managed to wrestle out of Vicky's grasp, looking perturbed but otherwise unharmed.
"Any idea on what to expect on the other side?" Harriet asked him as they crossed the last few cages. Some of them were occupied, but no one came close to them as they strode through. In fact, most of them cowered in the corner. Whether it was from Vicky's powerful display earlier, or the tight set to her jaw as her walk engulfed the land, Harriet had no idea.
Evan shook his head. "I honestly have no idea. I'm guessing that something is going to be waiting for us, though."
"Why do you say that?"
Evan pointed over to his left, about sixty feet down from the hole they were approaching. "That's where the exit is." Harriet's eyes widened as she understood his implication. "I'm guessing displacing that much stone made a lot of noise."
There was a loud wrenching noise from behind as Vicky crossed the threshold into outside. The change in light as they approached the hole was affecting Harriet's vision, so she couldn't see clearly inside the cave, outside of Evan coming up behind her. She instead followed behind Vicky, hoping that Evan would think to watch the entrance, and stepped into the evening.
They found themselves on a wide plateau made from the same red clay they had been dealing with since they arrived, about a hundred feet from the edge of a cliff. On the other side of the cliff there was only sky, with wispy, still clouds glowing in deep colors in the distance. The sun hovered unnaturally, perfectly still within a perfect painting.
At the edge of the cliff, straight ahead from where they stood, hanging over with only the doorway on solid ground, was a ramshackle old building. Stained but unpainted, it looked almost more like a cabin than a typical bar. Neon lights made the open door glow in a plethora of unnatural colors, and smoke danced along to a tune that wasn't heard, playing its own melody with the strange lights as it issued from any opening it could find in the building, whether it was the front window or the tiny crack in the wall on the side.
Standing between them and the bar was an enormous line of goblins. They were a strange sight against the sky, all sharing colors with the horizon behind them, ranging from deep purples to burnt reds and subdued yellows. They way they seemed to blend in with the background almost made them appear to be apart of the sunset itself. Perhaps that is the point, Harriet thought quietly.
In the center, directly in front of the bar, stood the tallest of them: the gray goblin, their new nemesis. He still wielded his same broadsword, but it looked different now. It had its own fire, one to match the strange sun behind them, a reddish glow that caused strange shadows to crawl across his features, causing him to seem even more menacing than before.
Harriet looked back over her shoulder. Behind them was only a large rock wall, about forty feet high. And through the hole nearby strode Evan, a large section of a metal pole tightly gripped in both hands like a staff, explaining the strange noise Harriet had heard. Seeing the crowd of goblins, Harriet expected him to pale; instead, he set his jaw and tightened his already white-knuckle grip on the staff.
There was a loud bang. Harriet turned back around to see Vicky, standing only a few steps away, hands positioned palm-to-palm in front of her chest as if in prayer. The noise seemed to center on her, but not quite. It's the like the noise didn't come from her, but actually flowed to her.
Vicky opened her hands, and the air rippled. A wave spread out from her, toward the crowd of creatures. As the wave reached them, they tumbled, knocked onto their backs and each other, becoming a tangled mess of leather, metal and flesh. None of them seemed able to regain their feet, although a few managed to prop themselves up.
None except the giant. He did not budge at all as the wave passed by him. His sword seemed to glow a little brighter as he moved forward, striding defiantly towards Vicky. Vicky extended her palm towards him, and a shimmering ball rocketed towards the goblin, but it had little effect. He swept his blade at it as it approached, and it simply ceased to be. His strange, thin mouth curled upwards into a smile as raised the weapon above his head and broke into a run, and a growl escaped them as he leaped the last few feet and brought the weapon down.
Harriet couldn't move, couldn't react. She found herself frozen, barely able to process what was even happening.
What are you doing?
There was an enormous ringing sound that caused her to start. Evan had managed to place the steel staff between Vicky and the goblin. The weapon had cut through the steel, but not before Evan manged to deflect the blow away.
I went to school for this, to teach. What's it matter if it's college students or middle school?
The goblin showed his teeth, grinning widely at the newcomer that he was after to begin with. His sword seemed to flare as he twisted it, taking a swing aimed at Evan's neck. He barely managed to avoid it, shoving his iron pole upwards to force the blade over his head and dodging the hot piece of metal that fell from the staff as another piece was sheered off.
You're better than this, Harriet. You've been doing research for your entire life. You should be in the field! Not stuck in the classroom with children who don't even want to be there.
Blow after blow Evan managed to hold the towering goblin off. Vicky had fallen back, eyes wide at the spectacle before her. Evan was starting to lose ground; his long pole was now down to only a couple of feet, not even close to the size of the sword it was barely managing to parry.
This is about those tests, right? Who cares what the doctors say. You could still have children. You don't need to do this.
The pole couldn't hold up under the onslaught. With one last ring, it cracked lengthwise, falling apart in Evan's hands as he stumbled backwards from the blow. The goblin took one giant step towards Evan, pulling the sword back and preparing to skewer him.
I care.
Harriet's was in front of goblin before she had even realized she was moving. Her hand was out across her body as she faced the goblin, and she had grabbed the blade of the sword mid thrust, inches away from Evan's body. She held it, perfectly still, as the goblin tried to wrench it free, pulling and pushing with both arms. The sword hissed around her hands, smoke coming out from either side of her hand. The glow slowly started to leave the blade.
She looked calmly into the creature's eyes. It registered again that she was looking down at it, and it was unable to break her gaze as its eyes grew wide once again, this time in recognition.
"You will not harm these children."
She squeezed her hand. The sword contorted, bending beneath her grip before snapping in half. The goblin staggered as the pressure keeping him from moving suddenly stopped. Having been forced to break eye contact, he stepped back and looked around. Harriet took a moment to see where he was looking.
The others were standing around, watching. Some had finally managed to stand up; others remained propped up on elbows or sitting, but all had their eyes fixated on the two of them. None moved to engage, though; in fact, they seemed to be looking on with pity, as opposed to fear or excitement.
The goblin tried to use the distraction to take a shot at Harriet's blind side, swinging the remaining half of his sword. He misjudged. Harriet simply raised her hand once again, catching the blade by the edge. With her other arm, she swung a closed fist at the goblin's head.
The goblin's feet left the ground as Harriet's fist crushed bone beneath it. He was sprawled on his back, still conscious and holding his face. He scrambled back and up onto his feet. He was panting, still backing up but gaining no distance. Harriet was advancing on him, although she barely realized it.
"Walk away," she simply stated.
He growled once more and lunged at her, bare-handed, like a football player going for a tackle. Harriet side-stepped and grabbed his arm with both hands. She spun once in a circle, using his own weight for a counter-balance as she gained momentum, and threw him as hard as she could.
The goblin flew through the air, over the heads of the onlookers whose gazes followed his trajectory, before bouncing once at the edge before disappearing over the cliff. The rest of the goblins turned slowly back towards the humans.
Harriet took one look back over her shoulder at the two children. Evan was holding his shoulder, and Vicky had regained her composure. She swallowed hard and nodded. Harriet nodded as well and turn back towards the bar. She began walking towards the bar, the two younger people staying close behind.
The goblins made no move outside of a few of them stepping out of the way. Harriet strode up confidently past them; she had a hard time feeling angry towards the strange creatures, but she wasn't about to let them harm any of them, either.
As they got close, Evan and Vicky broke out into a run. They quickly outpaced Harriet, who was trying to meet gazes to make sure they weren't going to be jumped on the way. The two of them burst through the doorway, only to stop on the other side, still visible.
As Harriet passed by, the closest goblin nodded while holding her gaze. "You won't be attacked again, Hobgoblin," it said. "Nor will your friends." It nodded once more, releasing his gaze this time and turning to the other goblins. He said something she couldn't understand, and the others started to make their way towards the hole in the wall.
Confused but satisfied, Harriet watched them leave for a moment before turning back to the bar. She walked up behind the two children who were still standing just beyond the doorway. They both were looking at a man standing behind the bar. He was older, perhaps fifty or so, with slender features and long, pointed ears. He was cleaning mugs with a supernatural finesse, tossing them in the air and wiping them with a cloth as they spun. Harriet found herself staring for a while herself at the spectacle.
"Uncle Todd..." Evan said, breaking the silence.
The strange man stopped his juggling and looked up at the new comers. A smile made its way across his face. "Oh! Hello there, Evan."
Although their was enough light to see by within the maze of cages, there was no mistaking the bright opening as anything but the outside. The warm light of the eternal dusk seemed to beckon as Harriet found herself actually having to jog to keep up with Vicky's steady pace.
Evan managed to avoid being drug through the intervening space, getting his feet under him soon after they started out. Eventually, he managed to wrestle out of Vicky's grasp, looking perturbed but otherwise unharmed.
"Any idea on what to expect on the other side?" Harriet asked him as they crossed the last few cages. Some of them were occupied, but no one came close to them as they strode through. In fact, most of them cowered in the corner. Whether it was from Vicky's powerful display earlier, or the tight set to her jaw as her walk engulfed the land, Harriet had no idea.
Evan shook his head. "I honestly have no idea. I'm guessing that something is going to be waiting for us, though."
"Why do you say that?"
Evan pointed over to his left, about sixty feet down from the hole they were approaching. "That's where the exit is." Harriet's eyes widened as she understood his implication. "I'm guessing displacing that much stone made a lot of noise."
There was a loud wrenching noise from behind as Vicky crossed the threshold into outside. The change in light as they approached the hole was affecting Harriet's vision, so she couldn't see clearly inside the cave, outside of Evan coming up behind her. She instead followed behind Vicky, hoping that Evan would think to watch the entrance, and stepped into the evening.
They found themselves on a wide plateau made from the same red clay they had been dealing with since they arrived, about a hundred feet from the edge of a cliff. On the other side of the cliff there was only sky, with wispy, still clouds glowing in deep colors in the distance. The sun hovered unnaturally, perfectly still within a perfect painting.
At the edge of the cliff, straight ahead from where they stood, hanging over with only the doorway on solid ground, was a ramshackle old building. Stained but unpainted, it looked almost more like a cabin than a typical bar. Neon lights made the open door glow in a plethora of unnatural colors, and smoke danced along to a tune that wasn't heard, playing its own melody with the strange lights as it issued from any opening it could find in the building, whether it was the front window or the tiny crack in the wall on the side.
Standing between them and the bar was an enormous line of goblins. They were a strange sight against the sky, all sharing colors with the horizon behind them, ranging from deep purples to burnt reds and subdued yellows. They way they seemed to blend in with the background almost made them appear to be apart of the sunset itself. Perhaps that is the point, Harriet thought quietly.
In the center, directly in front of the bar, stood the tallest of them: the gray goblin, their new nemesis. He still wielded his same broadsword, but it looked different now. It had its own fire, one to match the strange sun behind them, a reddish glow that caused strange shadows to crawl across his features, causing him to seem even more menacing than before.
Harriet looked back over her shoulder. Behind them was only a large rock wall, about forty feet high. And through the hole nearby strode Evan, a large section of a metal pole tightly gripped in both hands like a staff, explaining the strange noise Harriet had heard. Seeing the crowd of goblins, Harriet expected him to pale; instead, he set his jaw and tightened his already white-knuckle grip on the staff.
There was a loud bang. Harriet turned back around to see Vicky, standing only a few steps away, hands positioned palm-to-palm in front of her chest as if in prayer. The noise seemed to center on her, but not quite. It's the like the noise didn't come from her, but actually flowed to her.
Vicky opened her hands, and the air rippled. A wave spread out from her, toward the crowd of creatures. As the wave reached them, they tumbled, knocked onto their backs and each other, becoming a tangled mess of leather, metal and flesh. None of them seemed able to regain their feet, although a few managed to prop themselves up.
None except the giant. He did not budge at all as the wave passed by him. His sword seemed to glow a little brighter as he moved forward, striding defiantly towards Vicky. Vicky extended her palm towards him, and a shimmering ball rocketed towards the goblin, but it had little effect. He swept his blade at it as it approached, and it simply ceased to be. His strange, thin mouth curled upwards into a smile as raised the weapon above his head and broke into a run, and a growl escaped them as he leaped the last few feet and brought the weapon down.
Harriet couldn't move, couldn't react. She found herself frozen, barely able to process what was even happening.
What are you doing?
There was an enormous ringing sound that caused her to start. Evan had managed to place the steel staff between Vicky and the goblin. The weapon had cut through the steel, but not before Evan manged to deflect the blow away.
I went to school for this, to teach. What's it matter if it's college students or middle school?
The goblin showed his teeth, grinning widely at the newcomer that he was after to begin with. His sword seemed to flare as he twisted it, taking a swing aimed at Evan's neck. He barely managed to avoid it, shoving his iron pole upwards to force the blade over his head and dodging the hot piece of metal that fell from the staff as another piece was sheered off.
You're better than this, Harriet. You've been doing research for your entire life. You should be in the field! Not stuck in the classroom with children who don't even want to be there.
Blow after blow Evan managed to hold the towering goblin off. Vicky had fallen back, eyes wide at the spectacle before her. Evan was starting to lose ground; his long pole was now down to only a couple of feet, not even close to the size of the sword it was barely managing to parry.
This is about those tests, right? Who cares what the doctors say. You could still have children. You don't need to do this.
The pole couldn't hold up under the onslaught. With one last ring, it cracked lengthwise, falling apart in Evan's hands as he stumbled backwards from the blow. The goblin took one giant step towards Evan, pulling the sword back and preparing to skewer him.
I care.
Harriet's was in front of goblin before she had even realized she was moving. Her hand was out across her body as she faced the goblin, and she had grabbed the blade of the sword mid thrust, inches away from Evan's body. She held it, perfectly still, as the goblin tried to wrench it free, pulling and pushing with both arms. The sword hissed around her hands, smoke coming out from either side of her hand. The glow slowly started to leave the blade.
She looked calmly into the creature's eyes. It registered again that she was looking down at it, and it was unable to break her gaze as its eyes grew wide once again, this time in recognition.
"You will not harm these children."
She squeezed her hand. The sword contorted, bending beneath her grip before snapping in half. The goblin staggered as the pressure keeping him from moving suddenly stopped. Having been forced to break eye contact, he stepped back and looked around. Harriet took a moment to see where he was looking.
The others were standing around, watching. Some had finally managed to stand up; others remained propped up on elbows or sitting, but all had their eyes fixated on the two of them. None moved to engage, though; in fact, they seemed to be looking on with pity, as opposed to fear or excitement.
The goblin tried to use the distraction to take a shot at Harriet's blind side, swinging the remaining half of his sword. He misjudged. Harriet simply raised her hand once again, catching the blade by the edge. With her other arm, she swung a closed fist at the goblin's head.
The goblin's feet left the ground as Harriet's fist crushed bone beneath it. He was sprawled on his back, still conscious and holding his face. He scrambled back and up onto his feet. He was panting, still backing up but gaining no distance. Harriet was advancing on him, although she barely realized it.
"Walk away," she simply stated.
He growled once more and lunged at her, bare-handed, like a football player going for a tackle. Harriet side-stepped and grabbed his arm with both hands. She spun once in a circle, using his own weight for a counter-balance as she gained momentum, and threw him as hard as she could.
The goblin flew through the air, over the heads of the onlookers whose gazes followed his trajectory, before bouncing once at the edge before disappearing over the cliff. The rest of the goblins turned slowly back towards the humans.
Harriet took one look back over her shoulder at the two children. Evan was holding his shoulder, and Vicky had regained her composure. She swallowed hard and nodded. Harriet nodded as well and turn back towards the bar. She began walking towards the bar, the two younger people staying close behind.
The goblins made no move outside of a few of them stepping out of the way. Harriet strode up confidently past them; she had a hard time feeling angry towards the strange creatures, but she wasn't about to let them harm any of them, either.
As they got close, Evan and Vicky broke out into a run. They quickly outpaced Harriet, who was trying to meet gazes to make sure they weren't going to be jumped on the way. The two of them burst through the doorway, only to stop on the other side, still visible.
As Harriet passed by, the closest goblin nodded while holding her gaze. "You won't be attacked again, Hobgoblin," it said. "Nor will your friends." It nodded once more, releasing his gaze this time and turning to the other goblins. He said something she couldn't understand, and the others started to make their way towards the hole in the wall.
Confused but satisfied, Harriet watched them leave for a moment before turning back to the bar. She walked up behind the two children who were still standing just beyond the doorway. They both were looking at a man standing behind the bar. He was older, perhaps fifty or so, with slender features and long, pointed ears. He was cleaning mugs with a supernatural finesse, tossing them in the air and wiping them with a cloth as they spun. Harriet found herself staring for a while herself at the spectacle.
"Uncle Todd..." Evan said, breaking the silence.
The strange man stopped his juggling and looked up at the new comers. A smile made its way across his face. "Oh! Hello there, Evan."
The Precipitous Bar, part 6
Click here to start at beginning, or here to read the previous entry.
Harriet leaned against the bars of the latest cage they had made it through, trying to keep a tight rein on her emotions. It was a strange feeling, knowing that how she felt could influence anything. If any one of them became too frustrated, it could stop them in their tracks. If they started to feel defeated, they could find themselves trapped.
Of course, after hours of effort and wandering, it was getting much harder to exercise control and focus. For starters, it was quite a while before Evan revealed that he was not looking for a way out, but was in fact looking for his uncle. His whispered words exchanged with the various "residence" of the cages seemed, at first, like he was attempting to piece together the way out; it wasn't until he started being unable to bend the bars any longer that Harriet realized it was something else.
She didn't have any problem bending the bars herself. She strolled up with confidence and bent the ones causing Evan to struggle, and she did so using only one hand. She would do so for a little while, cage to cage, until Evan seemed ready to do so again himself. After a while, he'd become frustrated again and Harriet would take his place. The cycled continued until Harriet was beginning to wonder whether it had been hours or days since they first started.
Still, Harriet didn't want to pressure him for information. It wasn't easy to fathom that there was over twenty years of life experience in her middle-school student, but it was starting to become believable. He was holding his composure and displaying strong leadership skills. Harriet even found herself worried about undermining him, especially in front of Vicky.
Who, in herself, was becoming a deeper and deeper enigma. She seemed to have a set to her jaw ever since they left. No, before that even. Since she woke up, something seemed to be off about the girl. She still seemed to have her signature sarcastic wit, but it wasn't the same. It was almost like she wasn't enjoying it anymore, that it was a reflex instead of a defense mechanism. Was she hiding something? What
Evan stood up from his dark corner and the stranger in the adjacent cage. "There's no sign of him. This isn't making sense anymore."
Evan's skin started to take a dark tone. It almost looked like leprous. Actually, scratch that, it was turning leprous. Harriet stood up, but it was Vicky who moved in front of him first.
"You're in a place where your thoughts and emotions turn into reality, and you expect things to make sense?" she snapped at him. "Evan, think about it. You've been gone almost a year from here, right? That's over fifteen hundred years here. Anything could have happened.
"You want to find your uncle? Then we need to get to bar. If we can find him anywhere, that's going to be the best place to start."
"You don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "I left him here! It's my fault he was stuck here for a millennia!"
"No, it wasn't. He could have followed you. He didn't. He made his choice. Now make yours. Stop trying to figure out if the hopeless know him, and let's go where we can do something about it!"
Evan sat down on his haunches. "And what then? The goblins will be there. How can we--"
He was interrupted as he was suddenly lifted into the air. Vicky had grabbed him by his shirt and had hefted him off the ground. "You are not allowed to give up. We are going to make it. Which way is it?"
Evan was shocked. His skin stopped flaking, but was now ghost white. Without looking away from her, he pointed off into the dark distance. His eyes continued to stay wide, but he managed to regain color as she turned her attention away.
Vicky lifted up a hand, pointing her palm out towards the distances. There was a humming sound, the kind that's normally felt rather than heard, almost like there was a change in air pressure. Vicky bared her teeth, let out an growl of effort, and suddenly something passed by Harriet, moving so fast it almost knocked her from her feet.
All of the bars in the direction the girl had pointed had bent away, as if a giant heavy ball had simply bowled through them.
Evan and Harriet could only stare, glancing back and forth from the holes to the tiny girl in front of them. "Vicky..." she began, when she realized what was going on. She needed to get to the Precipitous Bar. Something Evan had said had gotten to her, giving her energy that Harriet found frightening. Hope can make you powerful. What could be so important?
"Don't worry," Vicky said, interrupting Harriet's train of thought as she started striding through the cages, half-dragging Evan. "I'll handle the goblins."
Harriet leaned against the bars of the latest cage they had made it through, trying to keep a tight rein on her emotions. It was a strange feeling, knowing that how she felt could influence anything. If any one of them became too frustrated, it could stop them in their tracks. If they started to feel defeated, they could find themselves trapped.
Of course, after hours of effort and wandering, it was getting much harder to exercise control and focus. For starters, it was quite a while before Evan revealed that he was not looking for a way out, but was in fact looking for his uncle. His whispered words exchanged with the various "residence" of the cages seemed, at first, like he was attempting to piece together the way out; it wasn't until he started being unable to bend the bars any longer that Harriet realized it was something else.
She didn't have any problem bending the bars herself. She strolled up with confidence and bent the ones causing Evan to struggle, and she did so using only one hand. She would do so for a little while, cage to cage, until Evan seemed ready to do so again himself. After a while, he'd become frustrated again and Harriet would take his place. The cycled continued until Harriet was beginning to wonder whether it had been hours or days since they first started.
Still, Harriet didn't want to pressure him for information. It wasn't easy to fathom that there was over twenty years of life experience in her middle-school student, but it was starting to become believable. He was holding his composure and displaying strong leadership skills. Harriet even found herself worried about undermining him, especially in front of Vicky.
Who, in herself, was becoming a deeper and deeper enigma. She seemed to have a set to her jaw ever since they left. No, before that even. Since she woke up, something seemed to be off about the girl. She still seemed to have her signature sarcastic wit, but it wasn't the same. It was almost like she wasn't enjoying it anymore, that it was a reflex instead of a defense mechanism. Was she hiding something? What
Evan stood up from his dark corner and the stranger in the adjacent cage. "There's no sign of him. This isn't making sense anymore."
Evan's skin started to take a dark tone. It almost looked like leprous. Actually, scratch that, it was turning leprous. Harriet stood up, but it was Vicky who moved in front of him first.
"You're in a place where your thoughts and emotions turn into reality, and you expect things to make sense?" she snapped at him. "Evan, think about it. You've been gone almost a year from here, right? That's over fifteen hundred years here. Anything could have happened.
"You want to find your uncle? Then we need to get to bar. If we can find him anywhere, that's going to be the best place to start."
"You don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "I left him here! It's my fault he was stuck here for a millennia!"
"No, it wasn't. He could have followed you. He didn't. He made his choice. Now make yours. Stop trying to figure out if the hopeless know him, and let's go where we can do something about it!"
Evan sat down on his haunches. "And what then? The goblins will be there. How can we--"
He was interrupted as he was suddenly lifted into the air. Vicky had grabbed him by his shirt and had hefted him off the ground. "You are not allowed to give up. We are going to make it. Which way is it?"
Evan was shocked. His skin stopped flaking, but was now ghost white. Without looking away from her, he pointed off into the dark distance. His eyes continued to stay wide, but he managed to regain color as she turned her attention away.
Vicky lifted up a hand, pointing her palm out towards the distances. There was a humming sound, the kind that's normally felt rather than heard, almost like there was a change in air pressure. Vicky bared her teeth, let out an growl of effort, and suddenly something passed by Harriet, moving so fast it almost knocked her from her feet.
All of the bars in the direction the girl had pointed had bent away, as if a giant heavy ball had simply bowled through them.
Evan and Harriet could only stare, glancing back and forth from the holes to the tiny girl in front of them. "Vicky..." she began, when she realized what was going on. She needed to get to the Precipitous Bar. Something Evan had said had gotten to her, giving her energy that Harriet found frightening. Hope can make you powerful. What could be so important?
"Don't worry," Vicky said, interrupting Harriet's train of thought as she started striding through the cages, half-dragging Evan. "I'll handle the goblins."
The Nations of Radix: Aracanoc
Now, maybe this is just the super-geek in me, since I love magic and all that stuff, but I loved creating Aracanoc and all its weird inhabitants. To be honest, I got so excited when I was working on it, I suffered from two huge issues: too many ideas to use for one nation, and not nearly enough ability to focus on full development. So, in the end, it took me the most time, and although I think it may be a bit unbalanced as far as "what's available to be done" there, I was still happy with the results.
Now, when I first created the three countries, I wanted to get a certain feeling of precarious balance. One nation had the water, one nation had the food, and one nation had the magic to keep them all connected. Without the others, any individual country wouldn't work on its own. Seems to make sense, right?
Until you really break it down. Food and water really don't balance versus magic. Seriously, what's stopping the magic users from just taking over the other three countries? I didn't really have to worry about the others; they couldn't really do anything to the other without the aid of Aracanoc, and they didn't really have the power to honestly take the magic country, but it didn't make a lot of sense in the other direction.
So I had to add in a conflict that would help the balance make more sense. Of course, it wasn't that hard to come up with something.
The idea was that each root provided a sort of "power source" as it interacts with the country it pierces. Aracanoc was unique, in that instead of just one root, it actually was the result of a landmass formed between two. This particular fact was what caused magic to naturally occur in the country, making it far easier for its residents to learn Elemental Magic and bending it to their own will.
The key point, though, is that magic naturally occurs. So it's not too far to believe that it shows up in natural form, or warps the forms of those nearby. There was my answer: Outside of a few monstrous humanoid races that had similar origins to the rest of the humanoids, Aracanoc was the "birthplace" of monsters. Sure, a few of them accidently found their way to other countries through the Nebula, whether through experimentation or force from their fellows, but for the most part they took up residence here.
Still, that wasn't everything. Should a bunch of wizards decide they actually need to live in a country naturally inhabited with an innumerable amount of monsters, it wouldn't make sense that they'd just constantly battle these creatures the whole time. Constant battle isn't exactly conducive to studying magic. What are a bunch of super-powered beings to do?
Create a big floating city, of course.
I wanted to make sure the city mirrored the magic it was intended to represent, so I had it supported by six pillars, each to represent a root or element of magic. Each pillar, which in truth was a wizard's tower used to support the city, was created as the "pinnacle" of the elemental mastery and was controlled by a singular wizard who claimed the most mastery over that particular element. Besides support the grand super-structure above, where people could study to their hearts content without fear of interruption from monsters, they all served an additional purpose: each, in their own way, kept the monsters from climbing to the city, but only through the active use of the "supervisor's" magic.
Since the most powerful wizards in the world were occupied constantly with defending their fair city at all times, they were unable to seriously mount any sort of offensive on the other countries. Of course, creating a huge disc blocking out the sun for all the creatures underneath caused them to mutate and become more problematic than they ever were, but that... Well, that's a story for another time.
Now, when I first created the three countries, I wanted to get a certain feeling of precarious balance. One nation had the water, one nation had the food, and one nation had the magic to keep them all connected. Without the others, any individual country wouldn't work on its own. Seems to make sense, right?
Until you really break it down. Food and water really don't balance versus magic. Seriously, what's stopping the magic users from just taking over the other three countries? I didn't really have to worry about the others; they couldn't really do anything to the other without the aid of Aracanoc, and they didn't really have the power to honestly take the magic country, but it didn't make a lot of sense in the other direction.
So I had to add in a conflict that would help the balance make more sense. Of course, it wasn't that hard to come up with something.
The idea was that each root provided a sort of "power source" as it interacts with the country it pierces. Aracanoc was unique, in that instead of just one root, it actually was the result of a landmass formed between two. This particular fact was what caused magic to naturally occur in the country, making it far easier for its residents to learn Elemental Magic and bending it to their own will.
The key point, though, is that magic naturally occurs. So it's not too far to believe that it shows up in natural form, or warps the forms of those nearby. There was my answer: Outside of a few monstrous humanoid races that had similar origins to the rest of the humanoids, Aracanoc was the "birthplace" of monsters. Sure, a few of them accidently found their way to other countries through the Nebula, whether through experimentation or force from their fellows, but for the most part they took up residence here.
Still, that wasn't everything. Should a bunch of wizards decide they actually need to live in a country naturally inhabited with an innumerable amount of monsters, it wouldn't make sense that they'd just constantly battle these creatures the whole time. Constant battle isn't exactly conducive to studying magic. What are a bunch of super-powered beings to do?
Create a big floating city, of course.
I wanted to make sure the city mirrored the magic it was intended to represent, so I had it supported by six pillars, each to represent a root or element of magic. Each pillar, which in truth was a wizard's tower used to support the city, was created as the "pinnacle" of the elemental mastery and was controlled by a singular wizard who claimed the most mastery over that particular element. Besides support the grand super-structure above, where people could study to their hearts content without fear of interruption from monsters, they all served an additional purpose: each, in their own way, kept the monsters from climbing to the city, but only through the active use of the "supervisor's" magic.
Since the most powerful wizards in the world were occupied constantly with defending their fair city at all times, they were unable to seriously mount any sort of offensive on the other countries. Of course, creating a huge disc blocking out the sun for all the creatures underneath caused them to mutate and become more problematic than they ever were, but that... Well, that's a story for another time.
The Precipitous Bar, part 5
Harriet woke up with headache, enough so that she refused to open her eyes when she first realized she was regaining consciousness. She always found it frustrating trying to think around the pain, hoping that if she remembered what caused pain, she might be able to come up with a way to fight it. Was she drinking last night? She didn't remember doing so. Wasn't it a school night, anyway?
Oh, that's right. She was fighting a giant lizard monster.
She sat up suddenly, eyes open. Vicky, who sitting on the floor nearby, squeaked in surprise and scooted away from the bed in reflex. Harriet rubbed her eyes upon seeing her; the sleepiness in her eyes seemed to cause Vicky's figure seemed to shrink and grow right before her.
Harriet looked around. They seemed to be in some sort of square cage, about 15 feet on a side, with other cages positioned around them. The bars seemed to go straight into the rock ceiling and floor. Each cage, including their own, had two or three hide cots and a large urn in a corner. Harriet was occupying one of the two in their area. Evan was on the far side of their own cage, talking quietly to someone in the next one over. Vicky, who had stumbled back onto her hands, pushed herself forward so she was sitting up straight again and looked over her shoulder at her classmate.
Evan stopped his conversation when he realized he was being watched. He stood and came over next to her, . He seemed taller than she remembered. "Good, you're awake," he said in a hushed tone. "How are you feeling?"
"Somewhat upset that it wasn't a dream," she replied. "Still a little foggy. The last thing I remember was pinning the guy with that spear-thing."
"Alright. After you did so, something happened and you began to freak out a little--"
"That's right," Harriet interrupted, looking down and holding her head as she her memory came back in haze. "There was something odd about how he looked at me. Like I was..." She looked back at Evan, wide eyed. "Like I was ten-feet tall or something."
Evan grinned. "You were. Anyway, when you realized this, you got startled. You let go of the spear, backed up and shrank quite a bit--"
"Shrank?" She shook her head, trying to keep up. "Evan, what is going on here?"
Evan continued to grin. He smiled the patient smile of an adult who's reading a story to a child but can't get past the first page. "I can explain how things work, where we are, or I can explain what happened. Why don't you tell me which one you'd like to hear first. I just need you to avoid being so loud."
She thought for a moment before replying in a much softer tone. "Let's start with where we are."
"Ah, of course. It always starts with the hardest question." He stood up, pacing a little. "Well, currently, we are in the Pen. It's like a prison that the goblins use for those that they believe 'aren't allowed here.'
"In a grander sense, though, we're on the Edge, not too far from the Precipitous Bar."
Harriet stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she put her head in her hand. She couldn't keep up, and the headache, although fading, was not helping matters.
Before she began to ask questions, Vicky spoke up. "The goblins are the things we saw, and you stabbed, on the way in. They live in the area around here and tend to not like visitors, although they don't go in the bar. And the Edge is pretty much the edge of reality."
Evan shook his head. "That's not really what it is."
Vicky shrugged. "It's a semi-hypothetical place that only somewhat exists in what is the known universe. It's an undefinable space somewhere between physical reality and our minds."
"Psychoplanes," Evan said, crossing his arms.
"Whatever. You're not even sure if we're really here. It's the edge of reality."
Evan looked surly for a moment, then smiled and sighed. "Ten years studying this place, and yet still others have a better sense of what's going on than I do. Applause to the young student."
"I'm just trying to put a way that doesn't require two days of explanation. Like yours did."
"Of course. But brevity is a much a gift as understanding."
"Two days?"
Evan jumped at Harriet's sudden interruption. Vicky was suddenly enchanted with something at her feet.
"Yes. You were unconscious for quite some time."
"Two days."
"More or less. It's hard to judge time here, with any sort of accuracy anyway." Harriet only looked at him with a raised eyebrow, which Evan took to mean to continue on. "It's always sunset."
Harriet continued her puzzled expression. Evan sighed. "Alright, let me start from here. Ten years ago... well, ten years from my perspective, my uncle and I came to the same woods we were in not too long ago, pursuing an old family legend about the Precipitous Bar. We had some lore passed down from my grandfather that said a gateway of sorts would be appearing there. It took us almost a week of searching with a few other family members to find the stream we went down. The stream has some sort of strange effect on one's judgement. Uncle Todd believes that it's because it was projecting our physical bodies onto the psychoplane, although my theory is that our consciousness was actually being removed while our bodies were being held in--"
"Evan." Vicky interrupted.
"Right. Brevity. Anyway, we made our way through, fumbling much like I assume the two of you did. Although you, Miss Stanford, did surprisingly well. Something about the Edge likes you."
Harriet rubbed the back of her head, where her headache was still lingering. She wasn't surprised to find a sore spot. "Not all of it, apparently."
"We're coming to that. Anyway, my uncle and I came here and were set upon by the same gray-skinned Goblin you so elegantly dispatched. However, we were not as--lucky isn't the word. Driven, I suppose fits best. We were cornered, and frightened, and quickly captured. The goblins seemed to grow in front of us the closer they came, so we gave in. And they took us here."
"Why were you looking for the bar?"
"Oh, well, now that is a question. You know, the legends say that the drinks at the bar can heal all ailments. They say you can meet the dead there, or even creatures from other worlds. They also say that the bartender has the answer to all problems.
"Our family has been looking for the bar for generations. My grandfather disappeared while looking for it, shortly after her turned seventy; his body showed up years later, although he looked like he had only passed days after, dead from--of all things--lung cancer."
"Are you saying he got lung cancer from living here?"
Evan shook his head. "He had cancer before he disappeared. It was slow, and painful; far more painful than the peaceful look on his face had shown when we found him. I suppose that's why I wanted to find it, though. I was there when he was found, and I wanted to know why he looked so peaceful.
"It took a sharp turn when we got here, though. Being in this prison for ten years... It wasn't easy on us."
"Ten years? You got taken when you were three?"
Evan smiled. There was a tray sitting by head of the bed that Harriet noticed as he walked towards it. "Here," he said, grabbing a piece of hard bread off of it. "You've been asleep for two days. You must be hungry."
She took the bread, but realized she wasn't hungry. "No, thanks," she said.
"Water, then," he said, handing her a clay jug of clear water. Harriet turned this down as well, confused. "You've been out for two days; even if you hadn't, you were running and fighting. But you're not tired, hungry or thirsty. Two days have passed here, but to your body, it's probably been about five minutes."
"So... there's a time difference."
Evan nodded. "I was gone for ten years. To the rest of the world, though, I was only gone two days.
"Whatever theory is correct, something is going on here that somehow heightens our minds, speeding up our experiences. The link between our emotions and our interaction with the world here is much more direct. It can cause some disturbing physical changes."
"Like what?"
Evan suddenly leaped at Vicky's flank, looking like he was about to swing. Vicky shrunk back, then literally shrunk. She lost more than a foot in height before she snapped back to normal as it became obvious Evan wasn't intending to hit her. Growling, she took a swing at his knee, but he sidestepped quickly.
"What we feel can affect how we appear. Fear normally causes one to shrink. From what others have said, hope can make one powerful, uncertainty leads to frailty, selflessness can make one impervious and courage-"
Evan walked over to the bars of the cage. With a smile on his face, he pulled on the bars. The thick steel bars started to bend, until he suddenly yanked and ripped them out of the ceiling.
"Courage can make us stronger." He walked out of the cage and into the next one. "It's going to take a bit, but we can get out of here as long as we don't get frustrated. We'll talk as we walk. C'mon."
Harriet walked out from between the bars. "What happened to me anyway?"
"You got startled," Vicky said from behind her. "When you shrank, that yellow one we passed back came up and knocked you out with that sheath he had. Evan said we should give up, and they brought us here."
Harriet cringed. "Guess my emotions are my weakness."
"Yeah, but they're you're strength, too," Evan said. "You grew to ten-feet tall! I don't know what you were thinking about, but I'm thankful for it. That old gray goblin wasn't planning on let me escape again. So whatever you were thinking of then, don't forget it."
Harriet swallowed and nodded. She found herself hoping that they simply didn't run into these goblins again.
Oh, that's right. She was fighting a giant lizard monster.
She sat up suddenly, eyes open. Vicky, who sitting on the floor nearby, squeaked in surprise and scooted away from the bed in reflex. Harriet rubbed her eyes upon seeing her; the sleepiness in her eyes seemed to cause Vicky's figure seemed to shrink and grow right before her.
Harriet looked around. They seemed to be in some sort of square cage, about 15 feet on a side, with other cages positioned around them. The bars seemed to go straight into the rock ceiling and floor. Each cage, including their own, had two or three hide cots and a large urn in a corner. Harriet was occupying one of the two in their area. Evan was on the far side of their own cage, talking quietly to someone in the next one over. Vicky, who had stumbled back onto her hands, pushed herself forward so she was sitting up straight again and looked over her shoulder at her classmate.
Evan stopped his conversation when he realized he was being watched. He stood and came over next to her, . He seemed taller than she remembered. "Good, you're awake," he said in a hushed tone. "How are you feeling?"
"Somewhat upset that it wasn't a dream," she replied. "Still a little foggy. The last thing I remember was pinning the guy with that spear-thing."
"Alright. After you did so, something happened and you began to freak out a little--"
"That's right," Harriet interrupted, looking down and holding her head as she her memory came back in haze. "There was something odd about how he looked at me. Like I was..." She looked back at Evan, wide eyed. "Like I was ten-feet tall or something."
Evan grinned. "You were. Anyway, when you realized this, you got startled. You let go of the spear, backed up and shrank quite a bit--"
"Shrank?" She shook her head, trying to keep up. "Evan, what is going on here?"
Evan continued to grin. He smiled the patient smile of an adult who's reading a story to a child but can't get past the first page. "I can explain how things work, where we are, or I can explain what happened. Why don't you tell me which one you'd like to hear first. I just need you to avoid being so loud."
She thought for a moment before replying in a much softer tone. "Let's start with where we are."
"Ah, of course. It always starts with the hardest question." He stood up, pacing a little. "Well, currently, we are in the Pen. It's like a prison that the goblins use for those that they believe 'aren't allowed here.'
"In a grander sense, though, we're on the Edge, not too far from the Precipitous Bar."
Harriet stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she put her head in her hand. She couldn't keep up, and the headache, although fading, was not helping matters.
Before she began to ask questions, Vicky spoke up. "The goblins are the things we saw, and you stabbed, on the way in. They live in the area around here and tend to not like visitors, although they don't go in the bar. And the Edge is pretty much the edge of reality."
Evan shook his head. "That's not really what it is."
Vicky shrugged. "It's a semi-hypothetical place that only somewhat exists in what is the known universe. It's an undefinable space somewhere between physical reality and our minds."
"Psychoplanes," Evan said, crossing his arms.
"Whatever. You're not even sure if we're really here. It's the edge of reality."
Evan looked surly for a moment, then smiled and sighed. "Ten years studying this place, and yet still others have a better sense of what's going on than I do. Applause to the young student."
"I'm just trying to put a way that doesn't require two days of explanation. Like yours did."
"Of course. But brevity is a much a gift as understanding."
"Two days?"
Evan jumped at Harriet's sudden interruption. Vicky was suddenly enchanted with something at her feet.
"Yes. You were unconscious for quite some time."
"Two days."
"More or less. It's hard to judge time here, with any sort of accuracy anyway." Harriet only looked at him with a raised eyebrow, which Evan took to mean to continue on. "It's always sunset."
Harriet continued her puzzled expression. Evan sighed. "Alright, let me start from here. Ten years ago... well, ten years from my perspective, my uncle and I came to the same woods we were in not too long ago, pursuing an old family legend about the Precipitous Bar. We had some lore passed down from my grandfather that said a gateway of sorts would be appearing there. It took us almost a week of searching with a few other family members to find the stream we went down. The stream has some sort of strange effect on one's judgement. Uncle Todd believes that it's because it was projecting our physical bodies onto the psychoplane, although my theory is that our consciousness was actually being removed while our bodies were being held in--"
"Evan." Vicky interrupted.
"Right. Brevity. Anyway, we made our way through, fumbling much like I assume the two of you did. Although you, Miss Stanford, did surprisingly well. Something about the Edge likes you."
Harriet rubbed the back of her head, where her headache was still lingering. She wasn't surprised to find a sore spot. "Not all of it, apparently."
"We're coming to that. Anyway, my uncle and I came here and were set upon by the same gray-skinned Goblin you so elegantly dispatched. However, we were not as--lucky isn't the word. Driven, I suppose fits best. We were cornered, and frightened, and quickly captured. The goblins seemed to grow in front of us the closer they came, so we gave in. And they took us here."
"Why were you looking for the bar?"
"Oh, well, now that is a question. You know, the legends say that the drinks at the bar can heal all ailments. They say you can meet the dead there, or even creatures from other worlds. They also say that the bartender has the answer to all problems.
"Our family has been looking for the bar for generations. My grandfather disappeared while looking for it, shortly after her turned seventy; his body showed up years later, although he looked like he had only passed days after, dead from--of all things--lung cancer."
"Are you saying he got lung cancer from living here?"
Evan shook his head. "He had cancer before he disappeared. It was slow, and painful; far more painful than the peaceful look on his face had shown when we found him. I suppose that's why I wanted to find it, though. I was there when he was found, and I wanted to know why he looked so peaceful.
"It took a sharp turn when we got here, though. Being in this prison for ten years... It wasn't easy on us."
"Ten years? You got taken when you were three?"
Evan smiled. There was a tray sitting by head of the bed that Harriet noticed as he walked towards it. "Here," he said, grabbing a piece of hard bread off of it. "You've been asleep for two days. You must be hungry."
She took the bread, but realized she wasn't hungry. "No, thanks," she said.
"Water, then," he said, handing her a clay jug of clear water. Harriet turned this down as well, confused. "You've been out for two days; even if you hadn't, you were running and fighting. But you're not tired, hungry or thirsty. Two days have passed here, but to your body, it's probably been about five minutes."
"So... there's a time difference."
Evan nodded. "I was gone for ten years. To the rest of the world, though, I was only gone two days.
"Whatever theory is correct, something is going on here that somehow heightens our minds, speeding up our experiences. The link between our emotions and our interaction with the world here is much more direct. It can cause some disturbing physical changes."
"Like what?"
Evan suddenly leaped at Vicky's flank, looking like he was about to swing. Vicky shrunk back, then literally shrunk. She lost more than a foot in height before she snapped back to normal as it became obvious Evan wasn't intending to hit her. Growling, she took a swing at his knee, but he sidestepped quickly.
"What we feel can affect how we appear. Fear normally causes one to shrink. From what others have said, hope can make one powerful, uncertainty leads to frailty, selflessness can make one impervious and courage-"
Evan walked over to the bars of the cage. With a smile on his face, he pulled on the bars. The thick steel bars started to bend, until he suddenly yanked and ripped them out of the ceiling.
"Courage can make us stronger." He walked out of the cage and into the next one. "It's going to take a bit, but we can get out of here as long as we don't get frustrated. We'll talk as we walk. C'mon."
Harriet walked out from between the bars. "What happened to me anyway?"
"You got startled," Vicky said from behind her. "When you shrank, that yellow one we passed back came up and knocked you out with that sheath he had. Evan said we should give up, and they brought us here."
Harriet cringed. "Guess my emotions are my weakness."
"Yeah, but they're you're strength, too," Evan said. "You grew to ten-feet tall! I don't know what you were thinking about, but I'm thankful for it. That old gray goblin wasn't planning on let me escape again. So whatever you were thinking of then, don't forget it."
Harriet swallowed and nodded. She found herself hoping that they simply didn't run into these goblins again.
The Precipitous Bar, part 4
Click here to start at beginning, or here to read the previous entry.
Harriet landed solidly on what felt like stone. The rushing water pouring in from multiple directions prevented her from standing straight, but she managed to keep upright. Unable to see past the cascade in front of her, she felt out ahead with one hand while slowly sliding her foot forward until she kicked a steep step. She took a high step up and repeated the process.
She slowly climbed up about four steps before she made it out from under the waterfall. There was still some water flowing about her hips, but she was able to see again. Each step now brought the water level lower. She went up a few more steps until the flow no longer forced her to bend over to keep her footing. She turned around to see Vicky still standing at the edge, although she was now at eye-level and watching Harriet finish her climb.
Harriet opened her mouth to tell Vicky to stay put and she'd be back in a moment, but she didn't have a chance. All that came out was "Vicky!" as the girl looked away, glancing down the fall and taking the single step off the edge. Harriet only paused for a moment before rushing back down the steps and into the water.
She only fumbled for a moment before she managed to grab the young girl's arm. Not wanting to injure her again, she shifted her grip around the girl's waste and pulled her the direction that she had just came from, pulling up when she came to a step to help her find them. They made it to clear air quickly and they both gasped, hunching over and trying to catch their breath.
"Why did you jump?" Harriet asked between gulps of air. "I was going to come back for you!"
"And how were you going to do that?"
Harriet looked back the way they came. The gap was far to wide to jump, and there was no purchase with which to climb back to the ledge they came from. Even if they were, climbing up through a waterfall wasn't really an option.
"Also, when you came out of the water," Vicky continued after she finished catching her breath, "you didn't have that tired look on your face anymore. I thought maybe the waterfall would help with the cloudiness that was in my head, too."
Harriet straightened up as she looked back at her student. She was right; the fog was gone, and she could think clearly. She's fairly certain she would not have tried that jump had she been thinking straight. Then again, how much of anything that's happened recently.
Vicky was stilled hunched over, although she didn't look like she was breathing hard any more. The girl's face and neck now had angry black-and-blue patches that matched the one on her wris.
Harriet furrowed her brow. The water wasn't flowing hard enough bruise, especially on an athletic girl like Vicky. In fact, she should have had her face down, so it couldn't have bruised her there. She checked her own arms and shoulders, but there was no sign of injury. "Vicky, are you ok?" she asked.
The girl flushed, the bruises themselves almost seeming to pale. Before she had a chance to respond, though, there was a crashing sound above, echoing from the cave mouth, followed by a scream. A scream that sounded distinctly like Evan.
Harriet tapped Vicky lightly on the back to get her moving and took off up the steps. Upon crossing through the strange stone circle, she found herself on a winding staircase cut into the stone of some sort of cave, the source of the flowing water nowhere to be seen on the dry floor. The dark red, clay-like walls were lit by an unknown source, but Harriet was happy to finally be able to see where her feet were going to fall. The two of them continued their exhausting pace up, sprinting across the periodic landing as they continued upwards. Their steps echoed through the cave, becoming quite loud in spite of the soft surface.
Harriet stopped abruptly as she noticed something on the ground of one of the landings. It was generally human in shape: it was about five-and-a-half feet tall (well, long right now), with a head, torso, two arms and two legs. It was muscular, almost stocky, and lying on its back it looked like some sort of wrestler who just lost a match.
The similarities ended there. It was mostly nude, although it had no genetalia that Harriet could see. It had yellow, leathery skin, patched like scales in areas. It had three fingers and toes, each elongated and ending in a broad, dark nails. Its head had some sort of strange, blunted beak, ending in a substance just like those on its hands and feet. And coming from the back of its head was some sort of crest. Harriet was reminded of the pictures of dinosaurs she saw as a child growing up.
Vicky began to push by her, but Harriet stopped her with one hand out. The only things he was wearing was a hard wood-and-leather sheath that looked the type to carry a long, curved sword that was nowhere in sight, and some sort of back-harness. And its chest was moving up and down, its nostrils flaring, so Harriet knew it was still alive.
"We don't have time to stare, Miss Standford," Vicky said from next to her. "Evan's in trouble!"
She nodded, realizing there was little she could do but try to pass. Evan managed to, after all. "Just don't go near it. Stay as close to the wall as you can."
The two of them crept by as softly as they could; the strange creature did not move, just continued its heavy breathing. As soon as they were past arm's reach, they began their run. It was only a few more steps before Harriet noticed another ring of rock, opening up to a bright sky above. The clashing she had heard before suddenly started again, and this time should could tell it was not far from the opening.
Harriet barely registered that the sky was a deep purple and red before she burst through the stone ring. She looked up to see Evan, with a curved sword in one hand and a large, steel-banded wooden shield in the other, barely managing to maintain his footing in front of a creature much like the one that had passed on the way up, wielding an enormous double-handed sword.
Well, there were a few differences. This one's skin was grey, not yellow. Its head crest had three points instead of a rounded edge. And it stood well over eight-feet tall.
Its next blow shattered the thick shield Evan had on his arm. Evan cried out as more than half of the shield flew off, only leaving a few planks still connected to the leather straps. He held his sword out, readying to parry the next few blows but obviously worried how long he could hold up. Harriet thought he could almost see him shrinking before the creature before him.
She looked around quickly. The were in an open area with the same clay substance that was in the cave for the ground. There were thick rock walls that made up a tall cliff-face both behind and in front of them, opening off to Harriet's left and tapering to a corner on the right, a corner that Evan was rapidly getting pressured towards. There weren't any plants around aside from a few stout bushes, but Harriet ignored them. On the ground not too far from her feet was a strange, two-pronged spear. She hefted it and ran at the creature, thrusting it as hard she could into its back.
It yelped in pain, pulling away from the weapon and turning, looking up to face her. Its eyes went wide, and she took its surprise as an opportunity. She thrust the weapon at the creature's neck, catching it between the prongs and sinking the blades into the stone behind him. The weapon buried itself deeply, putting pressure on the creature's throat and causing it to gag, although it could still breathe. It dropped its enormous weapon, grabbing at the haft of spear as Harriet let go, unsuccessfully trying not remove it from the rock behind him and never breaking wide-eyed contact with the woman before him.
It was only then that Harriet realized the huge creature was looking up in order to meet her gaze.
To Be Continued.
Harriet landed solidly on what felt like stone. The rushing water pouring in from multiple directions prevented her from standing straight, but she managed to keep upright. Unable to see past the cascade in front of her, she felt out ahead with one hand while slowly sliding her foot forward until she kicked a steep step. She took a high step up and repeated the process.
She slowly climbed up about four steps before she made it out from under the waterfall. There was still some water flowing about her hips, but she was able to see again. Each step now brought the water level lower. She went up a few more steps until the flow no longer forced her to bend over to keep her footing. She turned around to see Vicky still standing at the edge, although she was now at eye-level and watching Harriet finish her climb.
Harriet opened her mouth to tell Vicky to stay put and she'd be back in a moment, but she didn't have a chance. All that came out was "Vicky!" as the girl looked away, glancing down the fall and taking the single step off the edge. Harriet only paused for a moment before rushing back down the steps and into the water.
She only fumbled for a moment before she managed to grab the young girl's arm. Not wanting to injure her again, she shifted her grip around the girl's waste and pulled her the direction that she had just came from, pulling up when she came to a step to help her find them. They made it to clear air quickly and they both gasped, hunching over and trying to catch their breath.
"Why did you jump?" Harriet asked between gulps of air. "I was going to come back for you!"
"And how were you going to do that?"
Harriet looked back the way they came. The gap was far to wide to jump, and there was no purchase with which to climb back to the ledge they came from. Even if they were, climbing up through a waterfall wasn't really an option.
"Also, when you came out of the water," Vicky continued after she finished catching her breath, "you didn't have that tired look on your face anymore. I thought maybe the waterfall would help with the cloudiness that was in my head, too."
Harriet straightened up as she looked back at her student. She was right; the fog was gone, and she could think clearly. She's fairly certain she would not have tried that jump had she been thinking straight. Then again, how much of anything that's happened recently.
Vicky was stilled hunched over, although she didn't look like she was breathing hard any more. The girl's face and neck now had angry black-and-blue patches that matched the one on her wris.
Harriet furrowed her brow. The water wasn't flowing hard enough bruise, especially on an athletic girl like Vicky. In fact, she should have had her face down, so it couldn't have bruised her there. She checked her own arms and shoulders, but there was no sign of injury. "Vicky, are you ok?" she asked.
The girl flushed, the bruises themselves almost seeming to pale. Before she had a chance to respond, though, there was a crashing sound above, echoing from the cave mouth, followed by a scream. A scream that sounded distinctly like Evan.
Harriet tapped Vicky lightly on the back to get her moving and took off up the steps. Upon crossing through the strange stone circle, she found herself on a winding staircase cut into the stone of some sort of cave, the source of the flowing water nowhere to be seen on the dry floor. The dark red, clay-like walls were lit by an unknown source, but Harriet was happy to finally be able to see where her feet were going to fall. The two of them continued their exhausting pace up, sprinting across the periodic landing as they continued upwards. Their steps echoed through the cave, becoming quite loud in spite of the soft surface.
Harriet stopped abruptly as she noticed something on the ground of one of the landings. It was generally human in shape: it was about five-and-a-half feet tall (well, long right now), with a head, torso, two arms and two legs. It was muscular, almost stocky, and lying on its back it looked like some sort of wrestler who just lost a match.
The similarities ended there. It was mostly nude, although it had no genetalia that Harriet could see. It had yellow, leathery skin, patched like scales in areas. It had three fingers and toes, each elongated and ending in a broad, dark nails. Its head had some sort of strange, blunted beak, ending in a substance just like those on its hands and feet. And coming from the back of its head was some sort of crest. Harriet was reminded of the pictures of dinosaurs she saw as a child growing up.
Vicky began to push by her, but Harriet stopped her with one hand out. The only things he was wearing was a hard wood-and-leather sheath that looked the type to carry a long, curved sword that was nowhere in sight, and some sort of back-harness. And its chest was moving up and down, its nostrils flaring, so Harriet knew it was still alive.
"We don't have time to stare, Miss Standford," Vicky said from next to her. "Evan's in trouble!"
She nodded, realizing there was little she could do but try to pass. Evan managed to, after all. "Just don't go near it. Stay as close to the wall as you can."
The two of them crept by as softly as they could; the strange creature did not move, just continued its heavy breathing. As soon as they were past arm's reach, they began their run. It was only a few more steps before Harriet noticed another ring of rock, opening up to a bright sky above. The clashing she had heard before suddenly started again, and this time should could tell it was not far from the opening.
Harriet barely registered that the sky was a deep purple and red before she burst through the stone ring. She looked up to see Evan, with a curved sword in one hand and a large, steel-banded wooden shield in the other, barely managing to maintain his footing in front of a creature much like the one that had passed on the way up, wielding an enormous double-handed sword.
Well, there were a few differences. This one's skin was grey, not yellow. Its head crest had three points instead of a rounded edge. And it stood well over eight-feet tall.
Its next blow shattered the thick shield Evan had on his arm. Evan cried out as more than half of the shield flew off, only leaving a few planks still connected to the leather straps. He held his sword out, readying to parry the next few blows but obviously worried how long he could hold up. Harriet thought he could almost see him shrinking before the creature before him.
She looked around quickly. The were in an open area with the same clay substance that was in the cave for the ground. There were thick rock walls that made up a tall cliff-face both behind and in front of them, opening off to Harriet's left and tapering to a corner on the right, a corner that Evan was rapidly getting pressured towards. There weren't any plants around aside from a few stout bushes, but Harriet ignored them. On the ground not too far from her feet was a strange, two-pronged spear. She hefted it and ran at the creature, thrusting it as hard she could into its back.
It yelped in pain, pulling away from the weapon and turning, looking up to face her. Its eyes went wide, and she took its surprise as an opportunity. She thrust the weapon at the creature's neck, catching it between the prongs and sinking the blades into the stone behind him. The weapon buried itself deeply, putting pressure on the creature's throat and causing it to gag, although it could still breathe. It dropped its enormous weapon, grabbing at the haft of spear as Harriet let go, unsuccessfully trying not remove it from the rock behind him and never breaking wide-eyed contact with the woman before him.
It was only then that Harriet realized the huge creature was looking up in order to meet her gaze.
To Be Continued.
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