30 December 2009

Merlin 10 - Valley of Thorns

MERLIN10. “The Valley of Thorns”

Nickolas’ mind wanders as restless and confused he dreams about the day, waiting for further events while at dusk, an ever-darkening forest surrounds him and Merlin. The darkness grows, with simplicity and irreverence, like smoke over ash, on them as they walk through the dense dark night taiga. As Nickolas looks to see how Merlin has fared the events recently passed, once more since leaving the open air, he notices that Merlin has not yet begun to walk steadfastly, showing signs of remorse, acting canny and taking tremulous steps.

Making slight haphazard efforts to evoke remorse amongst a drowning sorrow, Merlin walks low in the shoulders over the waving forest hills bathed in black sunshine, quite overwhelmed as the cold attempts falling down through the trees, as his hate begins to slow his mind. A dark and dimly lit night, shadows and conceals the failing light of a single blue moon, shinning onto the floor, lighting the face of themselves and the trees, as less than half of the sides that face them reveal themselves as they walk. The moon light fades as the forest mist brings an evening chill. The darkness rises throughout a woodland mystery of gathered trees and a nearly vacant floor.

While proposing questions in his mind, Nickolas leads the way, imagining himself with Merlin’s abilities, mimicking the movements of the wizard he had seen with acts of pretend magic as he goes, with Merlin following not far behind him. As the night grows older, the ground turns firm and rigid and without thought they walk in silence at a fair pace, forgetting their woes as they steadily walk, until Merlin’s detracted motivation upsets Nickolas with a boredom.

“Tell me of the witches you had mentioned,” said Nickolas to break his silence.
Merlin wearily replied, “The center of our sad souls in motion.”
Nickolas, “Are you well, we can always stop to rest?”
“The body snatchers are made by witches,” he said sullenly, passing Nickolas as he told.
“Why would they send their army with witches?” Nickolas then asked, continuing the trek.
“They charge to attack the good king Horus.”
“, and what of the garrison they cross?”
“Are we ever outside of the hourglass?” replied Merlin in a somber tone.

In the distance the shadows and darkness holds life, which Merlin first notices. What he sees, is in his course and he takes an aging notice of a gathering among the trees at a deep summit, on a silent hill in the middle of the forest. Merlin puts his arm before Nickolas as he attempts to walk passed, unbeknownst of the arisen situation, as Merlin wraps his hand on the shoulder of Nickolas forcing him to walk further not another step. Merlin lets go putting his finger to his own mouth, a gesture of silence, and with his other arm points to some men in the forest.

A fire and a large kettle rest above a moonlit hillside covered in flickering light that makes shadows dance above fallen leaves. The encampment surrounded by a garrison of three people, who are trying to awaken and discover the magic of the forest by sacrificing small animals and mixing them with powders in a boiling pot, as they call to the heavens in an ancient and forgotten language.

Angered and enthralled words, chanting and waving in their stance, the way ships do at port as they read from a large book, except for one who holds a small forest animal over his head, offering it to the sky before he stabs it and continues his incantations. The cultist repeats the rehearsed words of significance to a divine end, one intended to convoke, after every sacrifice. Bellowing into the wild, the words echo a power of divine intent into the blood, as it spills into the kettle.

With a crude fashion, he cleans the animal and puts pieces into a boiling kettle hanging over a fire, in a small clearing between the trees, in their believed privacy far from the edge of the woods. One of the three men are heard saying words of an indistinct language yet one that is slightly familiar, as the others are drinking as they reply in like and kind.

Younger of men, with three different embodied traits, hair and eyes the same. The first of the three has a red hair that has been soaked by the sun. The second a dark and crimson black with a shine, one that is much kept oft indoors, his steps washed. The third is a vast paleness, younger than the others are, yet is still very fair in aspect, white blond grey and lean, resting upon a tree reading the same sized book as that the others have.

{One=black, two=red, three=blond.}

One, “Why are we outside, trying to do this?”
Two, “one day we will be gods and you will know.”

They speak with loud voices as they speak their names, unwitting of their surveillance. Merlin and Nickolas stand below in the cover of darkness, watching the darkest one wring and work the sacrifice until wrought, soaking his hands with blood.

“What are they doing out here?” asked a beleaguered Nickolas.
“Some archaic incantation by no doubt whelps of an ancient order.”
“Pagan rites or dances for the dead?”
“Quite right, druids seeking adoration, trying to awaken dead gods of lore.”

Merlin slinks surreptitiously from the one of two sitting against a tree, closest to them. As Merlin puts his back to a tree behind the light, he pulls Nickolas with him, out of sight. Merlin whispers to him, “I’m going to clear the air, these are druids and no harm but nonetheless we're going to scare them off and take a rest.”

Nickolas, “They'll meet gods; ill surprise them, like no other.”
Merlin, “Circle around them; hark as I lull them, than bring your surprise with you.”
“All right,” Nickolas agrees. Shaking his head smiling, he sneaks into the wood.

The mist seethes and assuredly enough, Merlin’s eyes begin to glow, as he clears the dark clouds from above the encampment uphill, as Nickolas quickly makes around the group to one direction, silently swallowed by the darkness.

As Merlin moves closer, he can see the book held is ornate and bound as the books at clergy and has a large blood red ribbon lying across the open page. He picks up a fallen branch and begins to walk again toward them, slow and laboriously taking no efforts to go unnoticed.

Nickolas witnesses them as amateurs as they prove themselves pagans trying to awaken dead gods and long forgotten lords to attain magical abilities, spilling their drinks and such, as youths either in vain or in vanity.

Merlin scares the confidence out of them and pretends to be a resurrected god, standing only feet from their cauldron, showing signs of an elderly one with only the ability to creak as he walks, it was the cane. As soon as he has their attention, his eyes fill with fire, his hair beginning to glow like the lights of the stars, his skin a similar glow and the staff lifted from the ground covered in an engraving of swirls and symbols that glow with a bright fire as if embers were within the wood.

At the very sight of this, the carver with hands over the pot drops his knife, into his brew.

Merlin, “I have come from beyond from which you called to me,” he said noticing that they each carry the same sacred tome.

Two, “What did you read?”
One, “What do you wish?”
Merlin, “I wish to help you summon more of this planet's true kings,”
Two, “We did not call to you, this is our meal, these are our books.”
Merlin, “You will need more than spells if you wish to defeat me to stay alive.”
Three, “We're not your enemies, we are your worshipers.”

Merlin looks around at the camp and at them, making sure to contain his amusement, trying not to smile at their actions. They are monks of sorts. The first of them is standing over the pot wishing he had not dropped his knife into the meal, staring at the surface, tempted to reach to the bottom of the scalding culmination. Another is on the ground at the bottom of a tree, holding his hands to the ground, wrapping his arms around the tree behind him, looking back and forth to the night's, almost cover of darkness. The third is holding a book with a page open that has a picture of what he believes to be Merlin, as he stands agape, but cannot tear his eyesight away from Merlin.

At first he does not speak, staring at them with eyes void and irreverent, flame rolling and dancing across his persona, making them sweat and submit to anxiety as Merlin stands before them with skin that looks hot to the touch, the air above his skin emits waves of heat and vapor, even against the darkness.

Merlin, “My joy is bound no more as I see I am not truly the last.”
Three looks to his book and then up to Merlin asking, “What world do you hail?”
Nickolas steps forward, holding a short dagger and his hair pulled back and soaked with blood on his hands saying, “Your patronage ill befits you dark one.”
Merlin, “Be not troubled, the saviors of my resurrection will defend.”

They look more confused than before, they turn to Merlin, just as Nickolas takes the one nearest him at his mercy, standing between too many obstacles hostage, and Merlin flares his eyes and leans his walking stick forward, pointing it to Nickolas. However, the pale and bright one gets the drop on Nickolas and stabs him in the back, above the heart and in the seconds the red one slits open his throat. His fate untimely, unprepared he can only drag the tip of his dagger along the arm of his captive just moments prior, as he falls unwillingly to the dirt.

Merlin laughs, and eventually thanks them for stopping the enemy, while thinking of a special anecdote significant for others to remember of something so unique.

“Hail to thee. You have saved me,” Merlin said with two voices in his chest, both low, one echoing the other.
Two, “We have done more than that; share with us your power.”
One spoke, the words stuttering and stumbling out of his mouth, “y…, y…, aye, or we will return you to your source chasm.”

“I have lied, that man was my hunter,” Merlin said to them. His tall cane glows and captivates in the cold night.

Nickolas begins to rise, but no one notices with the exception of the wizard. The two men of color walk to Merlin.

“You must teach us your gift,” the orange colored one said, staring at Merlin’s supernatural affects and not looking him in the eye, gazing in amazement. As he said this to Merlin, Nickolas reconvenes, shortly twitching as he lay regenerating to composure.

Merlin holds a stone, one that appears as he opens the long fingers on his hand and fills it with a clouded radiation, the color of his flames but brighter, charging the stone only to toss it to the kettle. It begins to boil as Merlin sees Nickolas wake and rebuild and begins to turn his eyes and the ink, buried beneath his skin, into bright lights, as they stand awestruck. The light may be distractingly bright but the air is still, the hillside bright as day, yet the trees and the bottoms of leaves still dark and unrevealing.

“You will abide to oblige my wishes. You will sacrifice of your allies to me and I will give you great power,” Merlin spoke to them in his onerous, doubled and touted voices that seemed to echo, before and after, the words. Nickolas has risen and steps back between the nearest trees, silent as an assassin in a memory.

Merlin closes his hand once more and opens it to reveal, a holding of fire that when lifted to his face, he breaths into his mouth as he brings his cupped hands toward him. keeping his hands aflame, the hair on his head ignites as a candle from within, turning to a thick blue flame, while burned he is not, as he offers his hand of torch upward and begins to embellish intense flames in the color of the fire pouring down to him, in which he bathes.

Nickolas has full risen and is standing at the pot with a large wooden spoon sampling the food they had begun to boil, taking a sample as he stares, and drops the spoon into the mixture.

Nickolas says in a boisterous clamor, “We make to dine on the souls of man.”

They look to Nickolas, whipping their necks in shock and back to Merlin once more, thrice again filled with fear. In their confusion, they turn to Merlin and he is showing a fire from beneath the skin, a purified energy that shows only the dye of his skin, eyes and hair, glowing with a dark outline. The flames begin canvassing his surface, from the tattoos that are across his arms and neck and face and at the thought of fleeing, when turning back they meet Nickolas, as he has two blades held with arms extended, pointing to both sides of the pot at them.

They stand in fear, now less one night dwelling worshiper, as the youngest has fled. At the small fireside within the trees, witness Merlin’s flames begin to turn a radiant and bright color, low and red, the heat felt upon the face.

Merlin again speaks to them with thunder in his voice, “You are trespassers in my domain and have awakened me and my forester. The penalty is death!” The resounding presence echoes and tears into the ground.

His eyes bright, the light bellowing from beneath his skin and with their penance paid, the remaining bolt like lightning, gone in a flash. All is amusing to Merlin and Nickolas who laugh and begin to eat the remains of the food, left behind by the monks of an archaic order.

“May I?” asked Nickolas as he loomed over the cauldron, and after tasting he iterated “it’s quite good,” before resting next to the fire.
“It was more of a meal and a ceremony for druids.”
“It’s almost a meal.”

Merlin is normal within the blink of an out looking eye. He drops a crooked branch alongside the pit of the fire, and it begins to burn without signs of symbols or scars. Consumed is the meal, but not before tales of the times shared and fire tricks, before Merlin reveals his plausible itinerary and its complicit relation to his destination, as the fire stirs in the night. They sleep and rest next to a hearth surrounded by white stones.

In the morning, they hike north, with autumn being confused with the spring, the pines are huddled together and clench their needled arms, as orange leaves litter along the floor of a morning wood as burgeoning branches precociously blossom and flourish .

To only one side, the wolves are walking with them, keeping a constant distance, not paying much attention to the two of them, walking among the ferns and pines. Their heads hang low with sharp ears as they watch the tops of the fallen foliage, as they circle about with an organized chaos, keeping their noses near the ground. As countless numbers, it seems or enough of them circling the same area, scavenging for miscellaneous items of prey, or possibly in a hunt for a large number of rodents trapped among the pack.

Nickolas, “Will they ever attack us?”
Merlin, “They circle burrowers…, unless you provoke them or it’s bitter as they starve.”
Nickolas, “We saw those naught, last night.”
Merlin, “Last night's meal probably drew them our way.”

Never looking back, Nickolas is wary constantly, walking of their surroundings.

The ground cover is a strange decay as they travel uphill, broken and rotted wood chips, a red thick sawdust floor, and large immovable stones lay lodged into the ground periodically through the woods. As the stone face of a damp mountain nears, the trees take position more errantly than at the forest’s edge.

A short cliff, of the mountain in the woods, no taller than a castle wall, where the stacking stone and the lands meet, jetties looking over where the mountain slightly tears into and upward through the soil. The loam becomes rocky and cragged as they begin having to walk up a steep hill through water and traveler worn paths.

Their travel takes them passed the last of the forest dales, they arrive at an opening to see a valley in the mountain and the rising sun, in the valley are roses growing everywhere except for the area where they stand, a small clearing with carpenter tools strewn about, and cutting and carving benches.

Not the site of a smithy but a workplace full of one’s fashioned tools, among a red gravel walkway to a small domicile with rose engravings and paintings. The house is small and knives hang from many of its shutters and windows, bees and honey boxes outside the shelter. The small dwelling and path connect into the roses through the golden dawn valley that invisibly stretches to their exit at the horizon because of a rose archway that crosses overhead of a garden tunnel. Among the rose trees, vines and bushes, red and pink freshly fallen petals nearly cover the hall of spikes and lace below a looming red air of effervescence.

In the yard stands a cogent figure, dressed as a butcher and painted red in extreme. He sharpens a lengthy knife, cleaving and cutting the meal meat from a slain dog, and without a moment to hide, instantly noticed become the two disillusioned travelers.

They notice that the rose-plants are dripping with blood near where the carver stands, the butcher takes the bucket below the table that has collected full of blood and tosses it's contents onto his plants, drinking the last of the blood from the pale, it runs his face, and he drops the bucket.

Butcher, “Come closer.”

Merlin puts the back of his hand across Nickolas’ chest. The stranger in blood pulls from his waist a whip of the rose plant intact with thorns, wrapped around his waist that loosens and falls like a silk sash.

As he begins to swing and sway the whip, it begins to glow like molten gold through the air, a flagrant lash waving in the ambiance, the thorns shedding moments of ash.

Nickolas gathers his emotions and softly speaks, “dear god...,” to him.

Merlin, in a dancing wave, leans forward, extending his fingertips before himself, as a white wind blows from him, taking with it ashes of sand from his skin. The cold air draws from behind them a few wolves gather but are timid and flee as soon as they notice Nickolas spot them. The effort is useless, only warming the man at such a distance, and rapidly causes Merlin exhaustion. Nickolas rushes to step forward and at the corner of his eye, drove an ardent Merlin rushing to attack the butcher of the roses. Their fight in long and short is as follows. From within Merlin, lightning blocks the initial crack of the whip as he rushes, but drawing the thorned line behind him, his assailant brings its end to Merlin’s face, where it wraps around his forearm, and a cry of agony fires let Merlin from his pain, as the thorns cut into him as the torturer pulls the line. The light in his soul shows anger, in his anguish his eyes turn black as he drops to his knees.

Butcher, “You will return to the ground and the blooms will sing your name.”

The thorns cause the newly wrapped lash to latch and viciously tear at his skin, the stoic villain knows if Merlin takes his whip that he will be unmatched.

This signals the end, as Merlin pulls him in, he puts his free hand on the thorny doom and pulls, putting the other next to it. From his wounds on hands and arm he begins to shine an immense internal light, he breaks the spiked cord and the butcher falls back and with the length at his arm Merlin leaps and wraps the thorny vine around his neck as he lies on his back. As our villain grabs to the wrapped cord moments too late, Merlin reaches into his sleeve and pulls the dagger Horus had given him. With a swinging motion over his head, he slams the point of the blade into the rose vine and rises up, standing on the hilt of the knife's handle. With both hands, he pulls the other end of the short, indurate branch around the butcher's neck and tightens the piercing rope, until it lacerates his windpipe, and with blood spilling everywhere, the fire in his eyes dies.

Screaming as he walks he sits, falling on his rear as one does, on the walk before a table and looks to a slowly approaching Nickolas.

Nickolas, “The throes of time, sure hated him?”
Merlin, “You...come here!”
Nickolas, “If you murder me, I wish it not be done that way.”
Merlin says, “Something to do with blood and tattered clothes?”
Nickolas says, “More to do with wanting to see more of such interesting fates.”
Merlin, “Bring me the dagger, in the ground over there. I need to cut out these thorns soon, and I’ve not the talons.”
Nickolas, “Here, take mine," said Nickolas as he threw the one in his hand to Merlin’s side.”

As he pulled one of the thorns, he moans as he finds that a broken thorn has begun to take short root into his arm. Nickolas stands and watches in dreadful awe.

“Will you be well again?”
“I hold deep in muddy waters, much like these cursed things, lest we bleed ourselves,” said Merlin with a sound of pain for every thorn pulled.
“Good, I’m going in to find more appropriate wear.”

Nickolas goes inside and finds a brown leather armored coat that hangs only to his waist. He decides to wear it, with it not completely closed, one large lapel hanging down, after making much noise searching through things, he comes out again.

“Becoming a chef are we?” touted Merlin.

A timid look of content paints Nickolas’ face as he replies, “He's got a lot of goods left inside, and perhaps you should look for an appropriate medicine.”
Merlin, “Then, as long as he's dead, bring me the bucket he drank from.”

Nickolas walks away and gets the waved blade next to the drying foe, as Merlin pulls the last of the thorns from his arm closest to his shoulder. Afterward he places his other hand below his arm and holds his wounded one close to him, looking for further damaging thorns.

Nickolas brings back the almost empty bucket and Merlin takes it to drink, losing grip in balance of his wounded arm, shifting the weight of the near empty bucket to his good palm, he drinks the remaining blood like it were cold water from a mountain after reaching the edge of a arduous desert wasteland crossing. Purged from the inside, pain and wound begin to remit as a faint pale blue light shines from beneath the incisions upon his arm, and quickly fade, his wounds now sealed from beneath and bleeding no longer, as he flexes his arm.

“You've healed?” Nickolas said in disbelief.
“I’m healing, or I’m not languishing or can’t you tell?”

Merlin waves his arm about at his elbow, just as Nickolas says, “I was going to assist you.”
“There was not time,” Merlin replied.
“A lot of things inside, no doubt stolen to be food for fiendish thoughts.”
“Then we must look, inside the house of pain,” said Merlin as he stands, using only his good arm to do so, using his fist as he does, making sure to not stretch the palm of his wounded hands.

Merlin stands, and not without a scream of anguish he stands arching back with his hands forward as he lets a small white ball of fire at the dead or dying foe from his hands, the bloodshed of fallen to feed his roses.

They ransack the shelter ever careful, weary of tricks and traps, taking what they can, including a bow and supplies that Nickolas does not want as Merlin offers it to him. Merlin takes these things, stepping outside to the unlucky animal. The table stands with an indent in its center and a furrow to the edge where blood does drain. The harrowed dog lies butchered, divided as if for sale at market, and upon learning this, Merlin gathers things to burn to cook a free snack, including the door of the shelter and makes fire. Taking the door of the shelter with him causes Nickolas to rescind his motivations of plundering and join Merlin for a breakfast.

“Hold the door here,” asked Merlin of Nickolas. He complied with Merlin’s request, watching Merlin walk away from him only a pace or two, simply to turn back and hold out his palm. A rush of air travels from him to the door, a gust that looks of a ball that smashes the door to fragments and parts.

The wood burns bright and fast, especially the ashen tables from outside as they watch, laying the meat on the coals. As they sit waiting, tending to wounds of mind and body, Nickolas notices a wolf external, watching them from the same place where they had entered the small valley plateau, but it scares and runs at Nickolas’ accidental locking of stares with the lupine, and it runs into the woods, disturbing the fog.

Nickolas ponders and asks, “Where does one learn such things?”
Merlin, “The burn is something he hath learned by and of the army burning the coastline behind us.”
Nickolas, “You knew him from somewhere?”
Merlin, “No, just another demented clergyman.”
“They had not fought us in the same way?” said Nickolas, questioning Merlin’s honesty, heavily staring into the trees.
“Not all of them fought with you.”

Merlin stares at a white quiver of bone and scales, lying next to his leg and takes an arrow from it as he sits to begin turning the meat to its other side. With the pieces being cooked and doled, Nickolas takes his and begins to feast, once again as if starving. By and by, as the final blow of the battle begins to repeat in his mind, he notices a wolf at the edge of the forest. The wolf slowly turns away, as if in amazement, dashing into the woods whence nearly out of sight.

To answer Nickolas’ question as he looks to him, he replies, “Some know great things, some bark at the moon and wait for wizards to scare them.” He says this as he notices wolves beginning to come to the edge of the forestation and sit alongside one another, staring at the fire, at them and the fallen sadist.

As they leave, Nickolas turns back and sees the wolves, still in wait at the edge of the forest. The two of them walk over to the body as one of the pallid wolves of the many all sit patiently at the forest's edge walks forward and sits primly halfway between them and its brood behind it, Merlin thinks nothing of it and turns forward again, continuing to the rose archway and they enter the valley of thorns.

A tunnel of roses of diverse colors of red, turn and slowly face them as they walk, the same way a flower will follow the sun in a day’s time, as if the two were derived from the sun. Flowers, vines and arching branches to some extent sway, as if in endearment as they pass below unharmed, across a path of scarlet, as rose petals fall ahead as well as behind the two. When looking up, between the plant growths, the sun shines brightly into their eyes.

They exit the rose garden at the end of the valley at a steep inclined clearing with steps carved into the stone, exiting the garden that seems like a bowl only as they look back, with only a few feet to stand at the top of a rise, at a ledge above a river that flows down the mountain.

A tiny path follows the stream downward, and far below are those whom Merlin expects to be, Ana and Troy, and the expecting couple, as well as the bird, diving and rising with steam and flames in a playful manner near them in the water.

A pond to their right, a pond farther to their left before the stream continues along the mountain’s landing juxtaposes a road along the foothills of the mountains. A forest grows ahead cut away from the mountain by the winding road, with another road leading through, away from the mountain that travels at least two ways from a tiny city far in the distance, through the middle in front of them, below their position. To the left, the mountain wraps north before meeting the horizon, the mountain and the horizon meeting far ahead on the left.

Merlin, “Pick a rose now, for the patrons below are my party, and they nor I, will hark back to this nest of hawthorn and thistle.”

22 December 2009


Moon Day

Beliefs in an afterlife persona, the worldly ones we are busily being now, end with death or shortly thereafter. At all costs, honestly corrupt and protect the rights of the people of the moon when it is convenient among celestial light. Fear the evil empire when they take you from the streets.

Deus Day

The higher self that is your soul forever waiting is timelessly eternal, and is many different people at once. The people are half-full of tidings and half empty of ambition as their boundaries have more thieves and politicians than light set afire. Question the actions of our leaders, but do not waste your precious breath on corruption and faceless politics.

Odin's Day

We over think and over analyze than we must be searching the opportunity to understand why our conveyance is motivated because we are the wanton parts of fiascoes and conspiracies. Little by little, the stars are taking more than their share from the bars of holy prisoners, the people are endorsing the movement, and will eventually become slaves to the financiers, who will fund a war of the titans, and profit from loss. Operating, Investing and Financing are income activities, which can be only deciduous by depreciation.

Thor's Day

If you want conformity, find how to be analogue, avoid the hate machine. Cleaning the field of those who in one way or another despite their efforts are feeding the fire and will perish in one fell swoop of the Odin's ravens. The future outcome from environmental factors less seen by those who explore and only proven by those that survives.

Free Day

The truth will set you free, the liars will tell you what truth is and today, liars hate liars, cheats hate cheats, and thieves hate thieves. Provoked by treason, defeated by finance, and erased by history, reborn by reason our spirits in arrogance are hatreds, in pride called teamwork. They leave you stay, the perfection of the old ways will always be detested because of prevalence by those who are declarative of fact about those who cannot afford immediate assumption. Walk softly with accord toward any resolution, but do not tempt a fate that cannot answer.

Sater's Day

Once the public finishes idolizing the ones they envy most they begin to become one evil trait or another. We are less than ten percent survivors and traitors, but if to consider the halves of nobility, we are three of every four of planetary total. Volatility reaches into the mind with exhaustion when temperance flares.

Sun Day

People forget what freedom is when forgotten prosperity honesty and success cause the rebellion to have more facts in their debates than the bureaucrats have throughout their lifespan. To consider the odd and other sort we are closer to the goal than ever. Follow only leaders that know where they are going, and never uphill, due process allows you only one race, and it will disappoint if it is to be the race to the beginning.


Moon Day

What makes sense to one person does not always have to make sense to someone else and his or her sane conversations. If you change your mind, and stop to listen to the voice, your surprise will be what you have heard. To some, meditation can be religion, a place of mental somber solitude, to solace by none, but you do not need believe that everyone can hear everything. Hearing is the perception that happens when someone tries to listen or when someone asks another to speak, through verbal or empathic communication.

Deus Day

Among the chaos of mannerist and verbal cues, when you refuse to hear the other person, the debate is over, and you will just be in a shouting match. Communication is the tie that binds, its opposite whereto the learning takes place in a perfect environment is teaching. Listening is the action the person takes consciously to try to hear something amongst heaven on earth.

Odin's Day

Listening is what you do all the time. You only hear what you want to hear, as much as those who are philosophers analyze every statement for truth. The catalyst is those who are not, repeating erroneous sayings they have heard. Some people read minds, hear voices, see spirits or tell the greatest of tales, and there are those who repeat the erroneous babble of lunatics and mad folk.

Thor's Day

If you change your mind, and stop to listen, some people can see their future, in dreams or not. Some of us can read minds, but not until they are older. An underdeveloped, overlooked sense of the vessel. Others have the ability to see and experience the supernatural. In both cases, the knowledge of the sage is in need of these spirits and communication to another to understand these things. Solitude and power will have put one beyond their era. There is no moon without a sun nor hammer without anvil.

Free Day

Beyond thinking, is an incomprehensible answer for all that does exist. Beyond the thinking that everything must have an answer, is the common oppression that everything must have a solution. We cannot daydream the power to comprehend the thoughts of others, such is a faithful trait that comes with aged confusion, and power beyond your wildest dreams. The answers do not come automatically right now. Some answers are yes, some answers are no and some answers have no set schedule.

Sater's Day

One cannot say one of something without thinking of solidarity, in order to protect one's sanity. In our better persuasions, we think in colors and incomplete thoughts, such is the way we utilize our memory for creativity. Our memory of our past will redirect our future, taking our dreams and turning them into reality is impressive by any regards of those who replenish themselves.

Sun Day

You will need facts, proof and testimony and may the energy we receive from it emulsify, go towards blasphemy. Success is superior in civilized times, as much as fate. Everything you do begins with a thought, albeit within the normal guidelines of society & the laws of nature, there is no fate but what we make for ourselves.

21 December 2009

A decade in balance

global warming was caused by the politicians of the world burning money. when it got warmer, more rain and snow came, the worst of which came at the very end of the decade, the ice caps returned, and the snow-caps replenished.

capitalism is the economy of society, this is the way. the opposite of capitalism is fascism not socialism. some-people have told me that i will be a minority soon, but i wonder how since there's nearly 7 billion people today.

myself, Ive been working on a story called Merlin, as you may know, a story i started telling 12 years ago, but recently restarted. copyright occurs the moment you write something, so i post it here. I've lead myself to believe, in my solitude, that im psychic and people are simple, yes that involves you? Ive been writing the summaries and rough drafts for a few ideas a week, i havent posted them all here as of yet because im working on the novel aspect of writing along short stories that dont fit the timeline and occasional blog-rants such as this.

im going to school for another 2 years, but for another associates of applied sciences degree. last one i had 3.something, and so far after four classes of this one, i have a 4.0 aren't you proud. and i did all of this while listening to heavy metal so go fuck your own rap-hick ass. though you may think you do not know me, i am a reputable if not often respected authority for myself and others.

through various opportunities, and several counts of lunacy, i have seized a chance to be informative to the powerful minds of my time, and in fact have left a compendium of writings for the people of time to come, for the future of the race.

Ive attempted an educational-informative candid humorous breech of information into the general public, and if not oft provided works of a personal literary composition to prompt choice and independent thought from what i can only imagine to be called my following, but with a scarcity of opposition, i fear an imbalance to the natural flow of information. with this bias weighing on my consciousness, i have spoken what i can and will continue to, to provide an outside view of the truth that only time can provide, alongside my personal works/writings. to stand the test of time. which i think is full of awesome accounts of literature and theology, except the poetry.

the politicians have justified economic collapse and contradictory logic. they cant consider themselves socialist because they believe it to be a bad idea. they label others as pawns of special interests, justifying redistribution of honest wages on the premise that it will be spread equally with a rhetoric of equality acceptance. this is the norm for both sides of the sociopathic / sociopolitical spectrum and have indebted our children, forsaking even their own personal socialist special interest services or agendas. all of this while abusive dictators condemn socialism, but demand charity. if its not hard its not worth doing, even if that means teaching people right from wrong.

Africa's impoverished countries eat bush-meat and haven't adapted to cattle, war with themselves in the name of genocide, oil, drugs and diamonds. other poor nations put soil with their food. trees are cut in a wasteful sight, that's the profiteering i abhor. religious fanatics still fight to have control of tyranny, and people. they allow the abuse by dictators to continue, disallowing suffrage, literacy and in some places alcohol (if you can imagine). china is still hard-lined communist, and criminalizes free-market economics. come on china, 6000 yrs, stop being shitfaces, and its poverty stricken people can fill other entire countries.

Australia has marsupials and plans to kill a million camels a year that thrive in the outback and ruin the fragile ecosystem and yet no one likes to eat camel.

Europe is a boon to English words and freaky porn. it also has this thing called an antihate speech laws, so you have freedom of speech unless you offend someone, than watch the fuck out, and so i think the name Europe offends me and you should name it to USA2, fix it. not to mention the Muslims there are writhing with that much freedom and are crying for separatism / secession and segregation in many places.

Russia is sort of like Alaska, but not in English. i havent heard from Russia in ages, but they used to play hockey, require passports and visa's, but i did hear they got themselves a president, and a prime minister, and it is believed to be mafia related.

The United States got it's first American president. Canada, is sorta family, sohz i cant say anything bad, but they have french ghettos, and i thought the Britons killed those things along time ago. USA is filling with the complacent, and you now have superpowers, return to your television. Mexico has workers and no morals more and more, is filling with its own drugs and southern drugs from countries that look like the dark ages, full of cannibals and neon soccer tweeker drug-running separatist nationalist invaders that often don't choose to converge if illiterate. But from the south comes a metal uprising, musically as Americans. north and south, blend their distinct cultures it is presumed music will hold them together. South American violence is rising, and poverty of its civilization is in many cases separated by force.

war,....has its own television channel. omg, a lot of war. but on the bright side, yoga is making a comeback. the internet which i thought was older than recorded history, in past and future lives in multiple dimensions and realities sees a massive interest taken by people in just the past ten years. luckily im a computer major in school, and that job market is on the rise, cool huh? countries that despise the united states, a cultural melting pot of the best and the brightest of all skills, for its decadence, are gaining grounds in literacy and clean living environments, and soon it is believed that most countries will frown upon cousin fucking. lol. religion is still here, but how could it not be, how fucking close to war is that?

Merlin 9 - The Blood Curtain


The essence of magic, a mystical ash, a resonance of light and memory, settles to the ground like falling snow. Time comes into focus on the two, as reality recovers existence and the shroud of blindness clears like smoke on ice. The substrate, that is the sheen of Nickolas is reclaiming his face as he sits up straight again, as if of a morning rise. Nickolas checks himself and comes to find that Merlin has blasted one of the wine sacks of blood covering him in a thick indulgent coat of crimson disappointment.

Nickolas looks over himself but rest his head saying, “This is not all my blood.”
“Fuck’s sake. All of that for nothing.”
“Help me up.”
“Can you continue?”
“Yes I can,” said Nickolas, checking the bags, “this one is intact.”
Merlin replied, “Good than we go, if you’re sure you’re able.”
Nick complains, “Partially a waste and more so a mess,” as he looked over his clothes, sitting up, the palms of his hands still on the ground.
“It is hardly our concern,” said Merlin. His eyes shut, his head tilted back, looking to the sky through his eyelids, surely covering his rolling eyes.

“Are these your friends Merlin?” said Nickolas, looking over the brush at the tree line, out along the path.
“Let’s go see how their friendly intentions are.”
“, and reconvert their attention.”

Nickolas and Merlin have not a need to run any further through the wood, none at all, because the soldiers that approach are travailing the rising path toward them, their complaints are close enough to be heard in mentions of the incline of the mountain’s countermeasures. The first confrontation is to be with both troops, seemingly unarmed, each very slender and dressed in red uniforms of straps and belted sleeves. Merlin stood dumbfounded at how Nickolas restarted and heads to the open path, as quickly as is done.

As Merlin stands in wait of his own personal sage knowledge congruence with new information, whatever is his motive, he gives his mind moments to catch up with circumstances, as Nickolas walks over the overgrowth at the edge of the woods. Stepping out, still soaked and dripping blood, notably looking as if he had just murdered a bear with his teeth, ready for a morning dip, or a sunbath. “Allow me,” Nickolas said at the forest’s edge.

Nickolas steps out into the path and they stop trudging forward, cautiously approaching Nickolas, no longer angry with their own feet or the climate, fully scowling with bloodshot stares at him, not for certain, if he was someone having escaped death by their army prior, or a maniac of the wood. They drew their weapons each, ready to kill him hence. As this they do, one of they, the syndrome of pawns of dictators, reaches into his lapel, and pulls out a small bag, next to a short sword with a broad handle. Thomas at this time pulls out a small dagger, from his side, beneath his remaining clothes, obvious to both of them, as the shirt stained and tattered from having the run-in with the bear just only moments ago.

“Jump over the edge.” The first of the two said to Nickolas, giving them cause to laugh.
“You first,” he replied.
“What are you going to do, prick us?” said the second tawdry soldier.
“It’s so I can get in close to see your eyes when I do real damage.”
“You’ll what?” said the soldier laughing again, whom stands slightly taller than Nickolas stands, alongside an equally tall sentry, one gulping at his breath and hand shaking, the other still as of yet, reaching into his pocket.

The show of suspense breaks ground as the first soldier throws a black powder wrapped in a loose cotton bundle at Nickolas. It gets into his eyes but does nothing else, the powder drifts around them all, adding insult to missing injury, peppering the blood drying on his face, the rest taken out to sea.

“The bad news is, you two are decoys,” he said as the two looked together, than back to Nickolas. Nickolas twists at his waist, towards the forest line, looking for Merlin’s exit from the trees, though there is none. Without finding him, he shouts into the forest, “Its gunpowder,” and has a small adequate laugh, as he turns back smiling through a red and black mask. The two guards gain their deserved anxiety and rattled, take up their swords, but with notice of the approach of a third, Merlin lets a blast from the forest line, hitting the soldier closest to the edge, knocking him over the bluff, into the sea.

“Nickolas! Do not play with your food,” Merlin said, stepping out from the forest edge. “Assured,” Nickolas mutters to himself. Nickolas rushes the remaining other guard and begins to fight with him, blade to blade he fights the guard with an arm behind his back. Even as the guard runs to the forest, Nickolas chases him, making it to the fleeing guard’s side as the guard turns back the other direction to see where follows Nickolas. Before the thick forest, Nickolas renders him unconscious by pushing his head into a tree as he turned to look back and laughter and gasps of breath and moans of the soldier immediately ensues and Merlin puts on his hat behind, out on the terracotta path.

Merlin steps down, now without The Silver Sword, and stops Nickolas from getting zealous with defeating the combatant sent from below, halting any further violence by way of grabbing his arm before Nickolas could even kneel.

As the third sentinel approaches, steadily and low in the shoulders, Merlin steadfastly sends from his pocketed collection, a glowing stone toward him, causing an immense blast before his feet, sending him spinning in the air, backwards head over feet, in reverse, over the fallen log on the path.

In projection, his feet hit the fallen tree with high branches, now over the cliff, and he, in finality, spun vigorously in his flight. The determined sentry gathers his senses, viciously approaching again, once more with precaution, stepping over the fallen tree trunk, as Merlin reaches into his bag of stones, and pulled another, this one a black agate stone of negative radiance, of bright darkness, in the palm of his hand. As it begins to glow, the soldier becomes overwhelmed and in full feared retreat, runs back down the slope, shedding some of his affects along the way, as fast as his legs can carry him.

Merlin, “That is never a good result.”
Nick, “Fine, Run I was going to make you, suffer.” Giving emphasis on the second half of the latter word, he shouted down the path that spanned along the edge near the cliff, which seems to cause the fleeing soldier to fall and tumble like a wheel, only to pick himself up again when the momentum gives and continues to the chaos below the mountain.

Merlin says while standing at Nickolas’ shoulder, closer to the trees, “No need to antagonize, he’ll be back.”
Nickolas says while standing at Merlin’s shoulder, closer to the cliff, “With more I imagine.”
“It would have been better if warned they weren’t.”
“It’s not pleasing, give me the bag, I suppose you're quite careless as you fight.”

After off carrying the strap from over his shoulder and across his neck after noticing, much as Merlin had, that one of the bags were not broken, Nickolas hands the bag over to a Merlin of chagrin saying, “Set me free of my bonds and take my blood.”
Nickolas turns to face him, takes the bag strapped over his shoulder and neck off from around him, and looks into the distance again, much as Merlin has been and for a moment, they stand mesmerized by the city under siege.

As the two rush down the hill, they fail to see one of the northern fleet's enormous white snow ships heading in their direction along the coast, rushing to the city in chaos and the merchant fleet challenging from the south, having already passed the city heading toward the massive white vessels.

Nickolas not so much yet focused notices Merlin’s skin, “Merlin look to your wrist,” he stated, as soon as he notices what is happening to Merlin’s arm. He looks to his wrist and sees a band of black ink from within his skin begin to glow. Merlin stops and looks back, up the path and as he turns back instantly, to notice, alongside Nickolas, that the motus in which Ana had left the city was happening, a great white light, from within the walls of the city.

From far above, on the edge of a rigid burred bluff slowly declining to the city, they can see the pillar of light from the center of the city go dim, as the circle barely seen over the city walls grows bright and as quickly fades to the red light of a city lit by fire. From its center, a concentration of light launches upward, the same way a raindrop travels a strand of a spider’s web. Into the clouds along a coursing beam of shining light, a burst of light travels upward faster than a thought, along the line and then all together fades leaving the part of the city where it had been, heavily damaged, remitting the walls to falling in and crumbling slightly, an explosion from the city center. Another man is running up the path.

“We should wait for this one.”
“I had planned on it.”

The man rushing up the hill is Horus, armed and dangerous, running as fast as he can possibly, not knowing whether Merlin has even run his errand, or not. Merlin sees his friend running up the hill screaming to them and they aptly rush down the hill to meet him.

Horus, “Run, turn back, it’s better to,” huffing and puffing and catching his breath, “better to take to the north, less food, more welcome. “ Oh Merlin, it is you. ” They encounter, the king not in his clothes, but in disguise, he reveals to them his identity, and when asked about retrieving and taking him the blood, they reply in fair and hasty response.

Horus, “Did you get it, good,” he said, Merlin taking the pouch off from ‘round his body.
Merlin says, “It is here, take it.”
Horus, “What happened to you?” he said looking at Nickolas, still catching his breath.
“What?” replied nick, in a smug and arrogant tone.
Horus, “Who is this?”
Merlin, “What is happening? Tell us Horus.”
Horus, “They have what they think will get them into the city of lights.”
Merlin, “They have no reason?”
Horus, “They are set on conquest.”
Nick, “But they can’t use what's inside, and only the light bringers can live there.”
Horus, “But they head there, killing my city on the way, their ships have already launched.”
“I cannot stop such a fleet,” said Merlin.

The armada moves in force, speeding along, most with oars stretching out from their sides, like spiders, crawling along the water, towards two ships much larger, the difference seen, even from such great heights.

“But you can show me the door and send me back, hurry, we still have time,” said Horus, reaching to Merlin and grabbing him by the fabric, “Look to that,” he said pointing to the chaotic city downhill, “I can repair such things.”
Nickolas, “Go back?”
Merlin, “He is going back.”
Nickolas, “He is going back.”
Horus, “What else you have not told him?”
Nickolas, “What else is there to know, friend?”
Horus, “I can stop this, but we must hurry, friend.”
Merlin, “Obviously, you have not, or we would not be here.”

Horus stops confoundedly, pondering this fate shortly, and replies to them as they again, move closer to the city with Horus taking the lead, “You mean that I would not be here. I am not going to a where, but to a when, to be a hero.” Ahead of them he stops and turns to them, “I have to try Merlin, and you can save a few before you leave the land again.” He continues without answer, walking step by hasty step.

Merlin halted and spoke loudly, Nickolas waiting alongside, “Wait.” A silence crowded the air as a scowling wizard, last in line of progression of their descent down the long narrow path, looms as he speaks. “Give me that dagger,” said the wizard to Horus.

The king without a crown stops, pausing before turning back to Merlin and then replies, “Why should I?”

“Because you owe me, and obviously, I do not think you survive your trip or this would not be happening,” Merlin replied, as he lifted his feet, and began walking once more along toward Horus.

“Fine, here, shall we do this?” said the king, tossing the dagger, which Merlin catches by the handle, as he steps to his side. He holds the dagger in hand to his side; he turns his head to the knife. Confused is Nickolas but he plays along, counting the seconds between the lines, as Horus seems in no hurry at all. Merlin slips the dagger into his sleeve and they unanimously depart.

“Did you see Ana leave?” Horus asks concernedly.
“We did. Nick here noticed my sigil ignite.”
“Did she make mention of me?”
“The devil is in the details.”

The three now travel together downhill to the city, the fields without, in flames. Merlin troubled by the ease of Horus’ ability to release the knife to his possession asks, “What are you not telling us Horus?” as he stopped the three from proceeding.

Horus looks up at a cloud-connected haven of the sky, and looks back briefly as he walks saying, “Be careful, the Totem mercenaries are at work.”
“Wait,” said Merlin again halting in his footsteps, “You didn't say that there would be any blood bugs.”
Horus answers, “Only a dozen or so.” Merlin looks to the city, with a contemptuous stare, the grey in his eyes beginning to crawl through the porcelain white of his sultry stare.
Nickolas intervenes, “Or so? What’s a totem?”
Merlin, still staring at Horus and the city behind him says, “You have heard that the body is a vessel.”
Nickolas, “Yeah, more than you know.”
Merlin, “They seem to live in their heads, and can switch them onto a new body, if it suits them more.”
Nickolas anxiously asked, “Them, their heads?” and gulped a dry swallow of nervous tension down into his stomach.
Horus, “They are highly trained and skilled deadly headless assassins that will put their head on your shoulders boy.”
Merlin, “He is older than both of us.”
Nick vacantly asks, “How many?”
“Maybe twelve,” he answered.
Horus, “Merlin, this war is older than today, but if we don’t go, I’ll have no chance stop it.”

Nickolas now stands oblivious to the two others and to their conversation, and begins a staring at the city with contempt, the beginning of a systematic panic. Merlin put his hand on Nickolas’ shoulder and says to him, “There easy to fall, they’re just a bit unsightly.”

From that, they go into the surrounding fields before the castle, where the guards can be seen firing green flames in waves and torrents of fire, at the mercenaries from their unique staff-like weapons from near the city wall, on and below.

A few of the villainous so-called blood bugs surmount and scale the small city walls, giving the guards hell at the tops before obviously jumping to the center, within the solid outward wall. The city is among anarchy with explosions, fires set, and people fleeing the city by boat into the ocean across the watery battle lines, out to the vaguely known distances of the sea, and by foot into the hills away from the ravished metropolis.

The army may possibly see the people flee from their failing fortifications, but makes no effort to alter course and intercept. Undeterred, the army marches toward the city, followed by a single row of archers the width of their formation, followed by a small set of rows, of unwavering and patient cavalry lines, at half the pace of the groundlings, watching their men progress forward, under black and red flags.

In the tall grass surrounding the paddocks, in the paths leading into the city, they find their first Totem warrior, black as death and evil as much, hunched with hands near the ground and snarling among the amassing battle that is swiftly encompassing the coastline of their entire country. Its eyes, mouth and hair are black as a toxic night, but the body wrapped by tattered strips of fabric, in the style of self-bandaged cloths, like a mummy of the sands of the great deserts of the cursed earth. The ghastly creature has visible sharpened teeth, clenching a short blade without a handle in one hand, which cuts into its own, awhile dripping a vile and dark blood. Its veins flow onto a slain farmhand who lies innocently below, with deathly devices carving into him as if for play, tossing pieces of flesh to the side as it suddenly notices the marching approach of the three men, who implicitly are dressed for war.

It smiles, its dark eyes unwavering, devoid of expression, and rises to its feet and begins to drift toward them slightly floating above the ground swiftly, only being able to hunch over with bent knees. Not a single piece of the creature stands straight and tall, as it cries out to them without vocalizing more than a raspy voice, and only a whisper came from within its throat, as it glides along, its toes dragging. A whisper’s speech of another dialect ensues after the initial wail of the monster with a spider’s tongue, and the king strikes it through with an arrow to its chest, which protrudes enough to hold it to anything soft as the wood of the fence and a second into the fence in a clear miss.

Behind the toxic smelling creature with peeling skin and black blood dripping, it turns to see the arrow’s insertion point, looking back to them while snarling like a rabid wolf, snickering of ignorance at Horus’ loose shot. Merlin then causes a great wind to blow, a wind of loud cleanliness forces the creature into the fence where the arrows run it through and holds it, and Nickolas runs up to it, jumping the fence at the cretin’s side, circumventing it before it could defend itself, to cut off its head.

Nickolas grabs the fowl creature’s skull by its hair and it tears away, much to Nickolas' surprise, and reaches to Nickolas to return the attack still impaled and fastened. He reaches his hand to the side of the demon’s face, putting a thumb into its eye, with a twist and a final slice of little effort he severs the putrid creatures head. The head falls sullenly to the ground and rolls, spilling darkly thick black blood like a bucket of paint. With young vigor, emanating a sense of confidence, he jumps down and upon landing, punts the head of the creature into the grasses of the distance.

“It had no eye.” He said, dusting himself as he begins to show signs of discomfort.
Horus asked a disheveled Nickolas, “And the hair?”
“Fowl enough to fear,” Nickolas replied.

“And now you understand,” Said Merlin who had in the time since his actions, taken his new dagger and began balancing it by its point on his finger, with magical ease, and now stands waiting and watching to the sound of marching feet, heard like drums in water, a blade spinning on its point at the end of his finger. Thomas turns and begins to notice the body of the creature turning to fine white ash.

Nick, “What is happening?”
“We must go.” Merlin and the king said, with a new chilling sense of urgent seriousness, in unison. Nickolas looks to Merlin who says, “The witches are coming. Follow…, Quickly.”
Nickolas, “What.”
“So we must go, post haste Merlin.” Said Horus to a Merlin who was staring at a barely shinning sun through the clouds over the forest horizon, a glow of fire begins to burn into the darkness past the city, against the dark sky slowly burning brighter and brighter into the darkness above the land below the stars.

Directly to the city they jaunt, past many a confused stockyard animal. At the open doors, the prepared men save a guard on their way inside by way of Nickolas finalizing the intruder from behind without notice, as he himself was attempting to quell the palace guard in the same way. “No more squealing pig,” he said just before Nickolas grabs his blade hand and put the trespasser down to forever rest.

Nick with a low and calm voice, revealing a new darkly candor says, “Flawless.” He then spats on the body of the dead insurgent, and stares at the rescued guard. Horus goes over to the guard, bends over and speaks, “Take as many as you can and flee the city, save yourselves or tell this the others, you mustn’t stay I told you.”
“I have nothing left sir,” the random guard said covered in dirt and blood, nearing a break of tears.
“There is always something left sir,” said Nickolas, offering his hand out to the man after having wiped his blade. He did not take his hand and stood up, and leaves out the gateway, indefinitely scarred, essentially forever marred.

As in ritual chaos, fires are lit, innocent are crying, children are running, anarchy is everywhere. A designed city is in battle with ruin, its architecture failing. Staring out, Nickolas is looking to Merlin, who is looking at the damages as Horus slaps him on the shoulder. Without a single word, they move among an inexplicable commotion felling many a foe with swift passage and little notice or opposition. They three, end the lives of eighteen wicked men, each as like tearing through a page in a book. The king leads them into the inner sanctum, where they enter the main hall and find many of the scouts of the enemy, gathered and waiting for them, dressed the same as those they met high on the hill, who turn insipid white and intimidated, once again at the sight of bewildered Nickolas covered in blood.

Horus immediately draws and strikes one of the enemies in their chest near the heart, though they attempted to swat the arrow, failing to do so fell haphazardly backward, uncontrollably waving arms about causing their weapon to slice the face of one of their allies. When this happened, one trespasser then orders the others to, “Kill the survivors.”

Horus, “We've been announced.”

Merlin summons a wind that blows with red sand, gathering them down at the floor and he and King Horus find Nickolas to be excellently skillful at throwing small knives, and with this in only moments, the villains that were awaiting the three heroes, fell to a painful fate.

Nickolas had thrown small blades no larger than carving knives into their throats and such from hidden sheaths in the seam of his trousers that spanned the length of the outside of his leg. Horus follows his actions by finishing things with a long waved dagger. They three, walk through the bodies but Nickolas stops to pick pockets for bounty, these guards were of little contest to their actions.

Merlin scolded him, “Thomas.”
“Earn later, guard now.”
“I had to get the knives, didn’t I?”
“Keep close and your head on straight.”
Nick said in a concerned tone, “Not funny.”

His condescension discernable by the look upon his face, Nickolas stands to join the others, forgetting some of the knives, but taking a much larger one from one of them. “Don’t move,” he said in sarcasm to the dying guards. On to the inner hall, they notice that much of the carnage is keeping to the outer wall by these pirates, drawn to looting of a city more attractive than their mission north, a few of the totem creatures lay dying or dead and strewn about, laying and bleeding out, among twice as many palace guards.

The king’s men are much worse for wear than they had planned to be, holding together tightly as a team to benefit their own defenses, and startle by their entry. These guardsmen with as much damage as the castle are leaning on each other amidst the carnage at a table in the center of the room, in the center of the bodies, in the heart of the castle. The leader of the resistance says, “The city folk have taken losses and gains, but have mostly fled, except for the brave and those of us cornered into the main hall,” as he drops his sword in hand to his side, as blood runs down his arm.

Horus walks across the bodies to speak to his guard at a closer range, “This will all be over soon, tell us what happened.”

“We were too late to warn everyone after we noticed the intruders, when we noticed the fleet a sail, and the army…we all but waited for you sir.”
Horus, “I understand my friend, we all would do the same,” he said and returns to tossing things aside that block the tattered peeling painting on the wall behind them all.

Elite Guard, “What are those things?”
“Demons,” Nickolas seemed to say from beyond the room. He has climbed above the ornate stone doorway to the entrance of the chamber and waits; Merlin glances, notices him above the door, and shakes his head in disbelief. One of the enemies comes in through the door and Nickolas pounces, and battles quickly to his prevail, victory and triumph.

Merlin tosses a bowl of water into the large cauldron that had given the vision of the Dragon Lord’s young and hunted family member, and the water turns to an instant boil on the surface of the contents of the cauldron that moments earlier, held a content that was certainly solid.

King Horus clears the debris and clutter away from before a painting on the wall, Merlin can see through the pillars. Merlin himself walks to him with the empty bowl. Above and surrounding the flaked painting is a stone decoration, carved to seem like curtains pulled away from a stage, not as tall as the doors to the room, but more than a man. Merlin walks over to the wall to see that the curtain has a trench above it, across the length of both sides, while Nickolas fights intruders and sends citizens away that come through the door on the other end of the hall.

“What is this?” Merlin asked Horus.
“This is how it’s done.”
“This is where you want to cross?”
“Yes, don’t worry, this is how they left.”
Merlin said crossly, “They?”
“The old stewards, do it now.”
“This is where I’m glad you’re going, this is cipher’s gate.”
“I know.”

Merlin begins to pour into the ridge above the wall the contents of the last pouch and together he and Horus cast the blood curtain.

With a divine intervention accompanied by incantation, Merlin’s eyes begin to fade of their light, as the king begins an incantation as the wall begins to glow. Merlin seems flushed and his eyes begin to fade to and from neutrality and a solid whiteness. As Merlin pours, the blood turns a dark black on the wall and seems lucid and transparent simultaneously as it pours over the decaying painting, in separate streams down the wall, eventually thinning and spanning the wall as if it lay flat on the ground with a downward wind pushing paint across the surface. The red spans to the edges leaving no space uncovered, the blood turns red than fades until the image seems true as a doorway or a window to another world.

The hall is like a spring storm, taking candle flames with it and offering only watery blue light from another setting sun. Two of the Totem living dead fiends, came crashing through the room, colliding with Nickolas as they pass, sending him to the ground, one latching into one of the king’s men, another next to Merlin, and before anyone could blink, it leaps again through the window in the wall. The blood begins to recede from its boundaries, revealing the antiquated painting beneath, closing quickly and flickering with dark flashes.

“That is why you are going,” Merlin shouted over the commotion.
“We will meet again,” said Horus.
“On better terms.” he replied, looking to him one last time before pushing his friend, through the magic gate.

The king swiftly jumps, having leapt through the passage, as it slips shut, with the sound unexplainable, and then the portal and the king were gone. The lone brackish creature of darkness was still feasting upon the guard, having already torn at him, trying to twist off his head by hand while tearing by teeth at his neck. Merlin grabs a toppled, golden goblet from a ledge in the room, and walks over to the demon; gesturing for Nickolas to come closer with his free hand, and kicks the maniacal creature over on its side and put his foot to the side of its chest.

“Place your foot on the other shoulder Nick.”

Nickolas does the act apprehensively as a guard walks over and raises a broad and massive sword above his head, in preparation of a death strike.

“No wait, like a snake, you must destroy the head,” said Merlin.
“I will,” the elite guard replied adamantly.

Merlin places the goblet on the creatures face and before he let go of it, the creature begins a shrill squawking as the goblet begins to glow. Before Merlin could stand upright, the cup begins to melt into the creatures head, causing it to shake violently. The plague of species does not bear any innocence with a mauled guard lying next to it. Nickolas pulls an empty vial and fills it with the black substance pouring away from the melting metal and fire.

Elite Guard, “What is it?”
Nickolas, “It’s a body snatcher.”
Merlin, “It was a man, now forgotten.”

Merlin thinks about the king on the other side, and the events which are to follow, but then the city begins to rumble from the coast and the room begins to tremble at the seams. The sound is likely result of stray artillery from the ocean. More of the king’s guards enter but Merlin, nonetheless, leaves. Merlin holding the door open says to them as they enter the garden, “Those of you, who can flee the city, because you can or must, go. The rest of you come with me.”

They all step outside at that very moment as Merlin pauses in hesitation. They stop and notice and turn to face him with confused expression, wounds, broken armor, and damaged weapons. Nickolas stands in the doorway wearing the empty pouch from their adventure.

Merlin, “Take who you can and flee, more of their army marches currently.”
Nickolas, “Go to your families and save them...”

They darted at the immediate utterance of these words. Nickolas pulls a small bottle, as if blown for a child from behind himself, taking a drink and tossing it to Merlin, spilling some of the contents. The two begin to pass the little bottle back and forth, and when it shortly emptied, they tossed it to the wall beside them.

“Where to battle next?” asked Nickolas.
“We head east to the wind trail,” said Merlin as he checks his pockets and sleeves.
“You do not want to stay?”
“How many wars have you stayed, to fight?”
“You are very true my friend. Somewhat callow though.”
“I cannot fight an army, even if you can.”

With Merlin’s decision, they leave the city, while to the south along the coast are smaller boats lowering from the sides of the larger ones at sea. Their sailors are jumping into them as the much smaller vessels lower over the side. The ships are not abandoning the whole of the fleet as they head directly to the coast of the cliffs of the cape to the north, but are boarding the ice ships. The larger ships sent for convergence are not sinking, nor have even confronted the northern vessels nearing battle. The road east is slightly uphill, laying along a plain ahead and somewhat left was the tree line where into the forest Merlin could at least disguise himself as the wood fauna or in fact hide within a tree, and let Nickolas deal with things in his own way.

The two, Merlin and Nickolas, made it to the edge of the thick flora, a part of the Garden of Eden at the edge of a once erected now crumbling agora. At the forest's edge, Merlin looks out to the sea, witnessing a fleet of ships moving north and two much larger ice ships, floating into the heart of the southern fleet just as the southern army begins to rise over the southern horizon of the rolling hills, whose marching feet can be heard from the distance.

The thunderous sounds of their uniform marching of conformity can be heard far from them, as they stomp the earth and sing to the god of war certain that the next city will fall, like a millipede in a hobble, causing a sense of urgency in Nickolas that made him race, leaving Merlin unable to follow at pace.

The first of the two winter born ships is cutting into the fleet, firing its weapons, lightning arcing from the sails and sending flames to the nearby vessels and pirates, when it began to sink, from the surrounding attacks and as it were from melting. As it sank three greyish dragons, burst upward into flight from each of the white ships’ decks and headed north. Behind it were two more ships but the day has not been as long as imagined and the suns fully set, the occupants do not abandon the following ships, and both of the suns are inoperable as the night defeats the day.

The day’s events reveal its awesomeness to Merlin who stands at the edge of the trees, waiting for an angry beast to crawl out of the ocean. One could almost hear two setting suns crashing to the ground behind him, not swaying his attention to the carnage. He imagined lighting the ocean on fire one last time before the night overruled the day. A marching army with fire in hand, and a burning city before a fleet of ships with lanterns on board that made them seem like sailing lightning bugs are all that is left of a serene dream, full of his fonder memories.

Nickolas rushes back to Merlin’s presence and asks, “Are we staying?”
“No, the storm is for the open sea.”

A cold air begins to flow, from behind Merlin blowing out to the sea, blowing the fires out on land, within the walls and at sea, as a cold mist begins to fall to the ground.

The darkness of winter seems to hold within the clouds, as turrets on the great northern fortress in sight show new lights beginning to glow that scatter along its defensive posts. The darkness of night crawls out from the land and over the sea. Wrapping his clothes tighter, he turns into the forest of the night.

17 December 2009

Tormenta Nostra

One global voice to all, assumes power of the markets of the world. The founding members of a life for a dragon, they meet in a dark drink, unfrequented by wealth. In a city of gold, only these common, sit at this gathering soon to be a rebellion. Global alliance distributors of the product, become sole couriers of the realm. For the only king left, behind closed doors talks, divided into four the distribution.

Rebellion begins siege, on supply routes of kind, to feed their own and more display. The network feels threatened, and hunts the rebellion, with zeal and darkness. Communication shines, universalism, of one world order makes speech the issue with a swift and dark move. For a global language, communications universalized with the global language legislation act. With every word, they say, the simple things seen, and set on fire by light.

The leader of freedom establishes allies and double agents. They dry across the board in the distribution data transmission centers. Communication allies begin joining the rebellion. Allowing the passage of communications partially resume. Unrestricted and surveyed as the next planet opens to an existing aristocracy.

Globalist universal soldiers instituted as a final solution. They war with domestic and intergalactic terror the rebellion hunted. New leadership emerges and takes control of global communications. A new and old family, the once freedom fighters take power over willing societies. Robotic means allow organ farms by way of cloning, based on a clone’s short lifespan.

Three separate rebellions form in the broadcast of silence. The survivors of the clone project escape a feared farm. The human resistance grows of infamy and hunger. Underworlds with weak alliances, battle against the preservation council. The bloodthirsty song claims divine right.

A duke of terror decrees the planet a monarchy. The android guard materialized for pomp and circumstance. The council is a royal governance of less than a million members. The commonwealth is overpopulating the planet. Evil overlords and each district of martial law battle countless resistances.

Rampant are those who eat the flesh turning the moralities. A second class of humanity evolves with rarities and abilities. The population consists of three faces looking into a book or the dark. Humanity, evolutionism, and sub-race monsters exist. The latter working as henchmen of the imperial guard of symbols crashes the gates of eternity.

A plague designed to eliminate the 'creatures of oddity'. Rapture eliminates most of their population, leaving the remainders affected. Moon shot causes their adverse mutation and advances them.Thralls become a larger creature under attempted domestication. Mars severs affiliation with earth.

A red war and annulment of alliances happens with the people of planet earth. A second plague develops on mars under the assumption of its refinement. Death’s delivery spreads to earth and becomes an addictive substance to nearly half of the evolutionary. Three castes breathe, including the royalty, which has changed family many times. The races each look like war-children, thrice the size of anon domino.

A muscular warrior race, of dominance and aggression writhes without a soul. With the hearts of the remaining humanity, a separation of knowledge better sits. The evolutionists overthrow the monarchy. Anew begin to call of themselves the overlords. A man without a name achieves dimensional travel, during attempts to flee.

Boundless creations made without memory of his childhood. He modifies a vessel to travel the dimensional shift and back. In turn learning the secret to time travel, space becomes a battlefield. He becomes the first and only person to escape the human empire. Earth 'resets' to its pre-electronic conditions of centuries earlier.

Martian time lines adjust to colonization 50 years prior and its population halved. Its first colony named after the drug, not yet invented. Earth is an early age planet of monsters, wizards and scared humans. Large reptiles begin to control the food chain by dominance. Signals from earth and mars before the temporal realignment soar into stratum.

Broadcast signals have made it to a star system in the center of the galaxy. A planet fallen to the same ills as earth's priors, begins to prepare for an invasion of earth. The distant system’s population colonizes a highly populated, nonindustrial earth invaded. Earth’s population under attack by the same creatures earths previous fated future. Earth invaded by the distant terror, cries for the halo.

Its moon destroyed and used for the formation of a new landmass on earth. The planet is desperate and dying, the remaining turned to slaves. The planet is open to colonization, and vacationing to alien species. The elite transferred for political reasons and allowed to live in peace on mars. The son of the ruler of mars organizes the destruction of a ship over earth.

After the vessels crash, the planet ruined for centuries. The perpetrator goes unaccredited and unaltered among magic fire. The Martian industrial revolution claims life for its own army. Martian atmospheric climate catastrophe causes evacuation of the planet mars. At first availability, Martians settle areas of earth, in Polar Regions.

After the air clears, earth has only the earliest of mammals. The deathly monsters alongside the evolved many that have burrowed thrive alive along sublimated. In desperation, they delve into the earth to survive what they have called the cataclysm. Martian settlers called Vikings, colonize the polar regions of earth. They exist as two families, the Vanir and the Aesir.

The evolved discover the Vikings and form an alliance they call the heritage. Among powerful psychics from families of a remaining earth of its last age, survive the evolutionary around a kindled flame. Welcoming war and Martians of the Vanir battle with the Aesir led by Odin. A hunter of the third tribe, who leads only humans to battle the Vanir, takes many wounds that would paralyze the seers. Odin defeats them all and unites the survivors under the house of Aesir.

Mars is in total political, economic and terrestrial collapse. Among complete anarchy, in a last attempt to survive the test of time preservation measures met with inception. Martian scientists send modified engineered mammals to live among the animals of earth. On its newly uncovered equatorial paradise, flourish a primordial fauna. The Martian atmosphere becomes volatile.

After the Aesir wins the Viking civil war, for reasons of clarity. The heritage receives titles such as witches and warlocks. Deemed they are the cause of the monsters on earth. Those with dark abilities are hunted or hiding as outcasts or among the Vikings. Mammals discover the creation of fire and simple tools as the planetary birth of the omnivore.

Viking colonization and industrialization begins. Combinations of nominations of societies become highly religious. Mixtures of monarchism and diocese religions begin crusades on the simple 'new humans'. The new humans keep historical records. Along with a rebirth of art and culture, a rebirth recorded as always the deed done.

Here begins the metallurgical era through wars and slavery. The first world empire of a second known era in its current recorded history falls prey to three laws. Created and reclaimed by others repeatedly. The queen of the empire, a descendant of a witch, brings reign with an invisible knife. Mistaken time murders the king and by means of public display.

Shows her powers and receives an overwhelming praise. Her so-called divine intervention her children become the 13 gods of earth. The first successful empire begins attempts at recorded history. To become a unanimous system of time over the next twenty-four in four parts time. The Viking expansion begins its own-recorded history due to an unexplained anomalous intervention.

A technological revolution begins of the three children of the first time traveler. They visit the planet and the third child accidentally leaves foreign technology. Artificial intelligence has a civil war in the cyberverse. Man and machine begin a war, positively instigated by the machines attacks. In the past and the present, one by each of the two sides of the machines.

The machines implement a proper navigation of time travel. Their rigid logistics programs cannot define multiple dimensions. Peace comes overnight when the first android created. However, most of the humanity is overcautious of a new peace. Without the order to exterminate life, the majority of machines leave.

Intent on their own colonization machine vacation flees to become the ghosts of mars. Lord Android deemed the ruler of a new society of clocks and witches rules with an iron fist. He is the law of the founding lunar colony young and without successor. Cyberneticists on the planet begin to fall without explanation as if by divination. They exceed capacity and become pure energy used in the cosmos.

Some entering the electrical network become the ghosts in the machine. Caretakers of the life of the planet, watch in ambivalence and intrigue. The remaining robots not within communication, severed from executioner orders. To their ascended brethren accuse humanity, and several members of life.Dependent on the services of the machines declare a conspiracy. The machines converted, in an underground movement of humans and machines to androids.

The monstrous colonists of the other solar system return in a second wave. In a matter of days, they fall by the mechanicals. The defeat of the second star system led to a subterranean enslavement to their forces. Where their bodies once grew freely, now a utilized power source and a corruption of control ensue. This system leads to human abduction and induction to this system for their purpose.

The colonization of deep space by the machines known as forsaken takes aim on eternity. The mechanical maniacal crawling and conquering droid, are crawling through silent and frozen space. The network sends agents into the living world to cause feet to march. They begin their attempts to balance nature and unbalance their future. The society burns into the future in total abject confusion with momentum of obsolete measurement as they advance their lives.

The assimilation discovers time travel without the precision of a mechanical mind. They erase their own history, only to signal colonists of the second solar system with life. The sun becomes a red giant as the core of the planet dies. Only the polar population survives, by means of wind power, battery technology, hydrogen gas. Deep inside the planet, pale snowstorm colonist, living in a subterranean utopia.

The planet and its life pushed and punished out of orbit by the suns expansion. Left a planetary drift until the planet collides with another planet or star. The world searches a new orbit around a new star, at the proper distance. A new civilization now adrift in a planet sized asteroid city vessel. With some contact with mars as it drifts its own direction.

13 December 2009












10 December 2009


Bon Jour, Mon Dieu.
27 samples - all under 1 minute
Acoustic guitar

Melodies, melancholies, maladies and self-made minstrel music for mademoiselles.
More later, same channel.



07 December 2009

Suez Motel - Video


Suez Motel 1 - Positive

Suez Motel 2 - Negative