Yule: Love These Apps 2015

If it is the future. Please stop making the dimensions of web pages (or areas) in px, and start making them in percentage. It's like mobile view, but for tablets. That way zoom doesn't push material offscreen, what if you're pushing adspace offscreen. Maybe you're not, maybe you're building with bad resolution and it seems massive.

Elsif dude, i knew you were a reader quickly, please stop teaching to the test if you're not teaching to the students. I know you're reading this, because I do. "Would you like to take another class from this instructor?" Can I buy a shitty ebook that's a complete ripoff first?

Else, politics: just because I'm not thrilled with the republicans, doesn't mean i'm not going to vote for a conservative. While 100 million people not working is great in utopia, this is not utopia. Newton was not just making shit up, gravity works, entropy does not. I will expound as much further soonish in terms of replication and supplication. Snore bang.

End rant. The next time i write with my eyes closed i'm going to title them 'darkwords' or 'darkwritings' something after this.

Let's do a round up. FNA?

Apps: 2015

Not on the list is Snapchat, windows phone apps are fashionably late and I don't put phone apps on a tablet, that's like putting hot sauce on eggs and were not #dang neanderthals. Oooh, thought.

_why > so violent videogames desensitise, it takes your five-to-seven-or-eight senses to war for your beliefs, so the games pacify our carnal need to hunt for food while we adopt a sedentary evolution (are you to talk to yourself [isn't this those? sorry] ohshit) the tv coddles the mind, make the feels. How disconnected are they that would play with our lives. An old man, before hitting on the postal clerk, hardly, said he wanted gov't to make things cheaper, instead of make PLENITUDE, he's so very wrong like many of them; some adults become tikes, and the reverse is also true. 

DAFUQ KING APPS SECTION

Duolingo, you're awesome, but you should get programming and be (awesome)=be.awesome, and hurry up with the Klingon and Russian courses for English learners.

This would be easier if I did a list.

Color Zen:
If you have someone over, or throwing a mixer, just have it on low in the background. Tho, you could have it on a massive touch screen and play drinking games.

Unpossible:
First person, best graphics on tablet.

Space Tube:
It's like Unpossible, but inside out.

Pew Pew (1 & 2)
I have both installed. If a 16 bit pilot fired up to 64 rounds per second in a single cell top down map troller about spaceships. It seems like the side-scroller cousin to the 90's virtualboy. #theseizuremaker

Learn Aglebra & Learn Algebra 2:
Hate me if you will, but the info is legit and nowadays we all need it, and these aren't bad, a page and practice WITH the answers. The logo has a circle with an X and an =. It tracks progress, but sorry, no cartoons.

Into the Dead:
The ultimate apocalypse simulator.

Inferno+ :
Top down map shooter with enemy magnetism, it's the game you play in the dark. Graphically awesome.

Pandora:
Mobile view, global sound.

Pathogen:
If checkers and chess were just one game. Viral cell entropy calculation, similar in ways to Chinese "Go" and African "Mancala"

Darkstone:
(I can't believe I wasn't thinking about this when I started)
Darkstone is the greatest game of all time. The intro level you walk around town and talking to a guy showing you the places, then it's off into the many worlds to probably die. The dragon at the end is the part of the story that only fits with the other parts of the story. Two dungeons with four levels each of difficulty per map, eight to ten maps per dragon, character creation, touchcscreen cameraa rotation, it was designed on touch screens before they were commercially available. Characters keep their skills even if you start a new game. Because the level bosses depend on the characters you choose & character status, you can NEVER play the same game twice.

Outworks (random)
Anything that says 'yoga', 'abs', 'pushups', 'trainer' and is free. "100 pushups" will ask you how many you can do, every-other day you do one more than you did before. You don't need #crossfit unless you're a gymnast or are hyperexausting to shred luggage for flex. Where lifting meets life - flex after, not before. Hashtag realtalk. I like "Just 6 Weeks" but there are gym programs that are good for more interested/invested efforts. Shoutout blackdragonblog.com & girls-with-game.com

Domino's & Papa John's: Get yo pizza points on. Less than half your food should be carbs if you're not lifting, or if you're not vegetarian. If you're a meat-eater, act like it and occasionally - eat spinach (dudes), soy (chicks). I've already said too much!

Ad blocker: Fuck you, ads. BTW, what the fuck, hospital ads, we get it, bureaucrats took people's money to give to other people for coverge (omg stfu yes some needed it) but you also took money to give them that they use to eat way shitty food. Is there an ad blocker for my fucking wallet?

Math Pro (e^x):
Once you know your math, this app has tutorials, examples, and for some topics a compiler that you can enter data and run (simple) tests.

Adobe Acrobat (tablet):
Scrolls PDF top to bottom for continuous reading.

QuizUp
Make your own flashcards thru their website, or quiz battle people from around the world on hundreds of existing topics from Minecraft to Metasploit. (No, they are NOT the same.)

PAC-MAN 256:
Shit just got real....

Sparkle 2 Evo:
Beautiful, complex, difficult, it is the tablet game in the spirit of Spore. #evolvetosurvive

Naught 2: Gyroscope colorblind ninja cat.

Eternity Warriors // Dungeon Hunter
Immense games that are very similar to arcade games, both are designed for larger tablets. If you don't know what an arcade is, ask your parents. View youtube gameplay before downloading. These two very different games, like 'Darkstone' take weeks, if not months to beat. They are button smashers though and require wasting equal amounts of time on a massive universe of controlled-outcome storyline with deep mythology.

Speed Moto Racing Game:
Backdoor to the original Tron: Light Cycles. (ask your grandparents). Tap left and right to steer, because you're racing as soon as the match starts.

Reaper: A little black ninja cartoon. I cannot figure out how to play this on tablet, but I am old. #VCR

Zombie Games: "Dead Route" looks cool, promising, kinda fun, but still needs a little work, it could be the game of next year tho.

Tangled: I'm so angry with this stupid game.


Honorable Mentions: VLC, Vine (version 3 or later), TurboIRC, ooVoo, Skype, RAR, DeviantArt, Instagram, Microsoft Office (free), Kindle reader, Barcode wallet, Calculator^2, Kik, Cortana, Photomath, Zedge, Cyberdust, Uber, Kahn Academy, Codecademy, Microsoft Math, Gasbuddy, photo-swipe apps.

Missing-In-Action: ......invisible apps, scanners, rfid.

I was going to do something else, but I need to step out of this vacuum, goodnight, at five in the morning. I'm going to write with my eyes closed now.

~~~ Very Chrismahanukwanzakasaurus from everyone on #Mars

(: 

`

ews - waylayers

so bright, i have having done since closed my yes, so tincture of the mind, scandalous rapture, breaking disasters, somewhat disliking thje rain, desolate choices of slovenn rejoices that I wshall have to tell you again, i made a field and trimmed the grass by hand, each blade i carried like my fashion to dalliance tarried thru the desert and the ocean and the snow, in the precence of the heart of a star, i drink emotions and lie about my age like a river of rain attacking the ocean for the semblance of shade in the midnighty day the tempest denssest wave, the wind of familiar thoughts the price of temerid loss the way that migration sleeps beside the shores while it climbs aboard the mountain where is the warrior of the peak in the frozen light, a diamond sky and worlds across the bifrost, in the ground i push my thoughts and to banish all the roots that hate the way i sleep, of what i keep, and i take down all the leaves and pout them there;

i crawl thru the leaves like raven thinking about to many ravens as if a knife was sullenly craven that the, hands need talons while the sickness seeks a balance in the hoarfrost and rime allocated accosted, their accustomed, until the lifeless are craling like the dead, that feeding on thoughts not their own had them grown of fatigue, and the dead as well are the races of hell and i sit like a feather of sharpened silver a collection of birds called knives in the trees that sound like their name, and for the ending of twilight for the mourning to feast there should leave by the least a new garden of the knots and colors of sometihing else without staving what the seeds were somedays craving to  fall from the first tree to feed on the burning in darkness to the winds of forgotten silence to grow on the trails of furrows the sings of lost time and the forest of shadows that i spoiled and will follow to mention my first death, a time to go longer where so many eager stronger to ask why the better were cold had they seen as things passing go faster or the cyclical wires the thrasher by the piercing rains of solar disaster make this a fire of the souls;

these are mysteries breaking to the devestation of the vision by this i mean the missing from a new, i might beg the difference for suppsed and lofty thriving biolence and ad-living, there are replicants, and supplicants, and dedicants and stones, where fire and space find river throwing styx and taking soul, when the journey is outnuimbered have long winners to've gone home, wasted this time on the indolent and savage while the work will break my bones screaming reticence and ravages will take the window of a throne, making pretty words of wisdom by measure and wroth and tone, convince to the same weakest symphony that i was not to be undone, and a song and up and down the typing judgement on the stones make me sick to feel the death of me like it shouldn't leave again, i cannot remember the one who was smoke and fire i was better off, and still i know not what it was, make me better to the bloodshed my sweet ignorance of love, tell the clergy of the nonsense that i am proud and lo hungrier, to that it is a mountain made of wind and leaves than made of what is something on its own, for the summit stands to greet you when you walk so long,

a wall of the second darkness, just a memory, never question hatred and voiceless, not hidden but this and uncertain there would will be a valley of broken bones as had been once already, blasphemy and threnody i will make meteors of emptiness and empires of will, startestry of fantabulousness time apart, i had not the thought to have forgotten hate, and had, i had better eat with out them then within them feed the hell, like this convo for amongst them shall they list-about at the knell, swords of fire chains of poison, rains of brass-colored petals, chimes of bones and teeth and skulls, the mirrorseems like it haunts them, there are never any stories where the like would turn to war, a safer prison has to stalk them, and their hearts will taste like rage and the grace will take my cage and i could sleep, i see it is the days of endless dusk and the glares when clearwater pools have valleys of theirs, i shouldn't have mistakened your slumber for my waking but there's no one keeping score, we could say it isn't sleeping, but who'd vouchesafe there won't be more

eyes wide shut - whitesnake

a sortie, if the light ends, crawling with tied feet, murder and deceit and i crawl thru water caves dried where stormeds have ever left, songs bereft of simple times, crawling in the ashes and surviving mighty trees, breaking trees in forest fire is the only worry, i can breeth the backdraft and ride the flickering whiplash, a bolt from the length i suppose i could to the water, the body a feast wrapped in the product of danger and magic, uneaten, i've never seen men crawl thru their lives to just lay with the dead, falling in the darkness, and blind i am for wondering how the witch deserved to kill me had the vampires all let me ride from wolves along the stoming seashore, , and wrapped me up to poison cleaved my heart and better still, he mumbles will i drag him, thrill, and the binding that carries me alon g the cave floor is made of a make, is sake of a sage, is rage of areality of spell, silk made of asjh, asjch, instill, a fear of awakening myself to bound and dragged, surely i can cut free of this entanglement, and all my twisting breaks my hands against me, but the sand anent me tears at the threads of my doom, these old caves darker still and torch light shows bats and snakes and bones of both, i want my hands to be free so i roll aback, and smile to my captor who's skin is black and cool, the labor doesn't bother him and he retuns to wling away with me in tow, the hands are twisted druged beneathes thine body, a carapace of thouhts rapace infity and infinitely silent, a bone to cut my hand to free the binds and the bats asume me kind and drove to the trail i live of I, sooner spy that dark begins to brighten and I am left for better dead, as a spear  becomes a lightning wind to strike me loos and after my heart to start, stopping thoughts i race to the fire and leap into it, the ashed made webbing does not burn of macgic unfoleded and heats me to the core by my wounds to sere shuty fore, by the hitherto of lore check the foe onto the wall, a ghasp of feels apal, i am free by chains of razors and pained by freedom to resent, later should i have thought and mallet makes my temple, judgement from the simple and short, i retort resorting that the table it thrown to the fireplace and the light barely shines to faces and our eyes are all that glow, so i run my fingers thru him to the marrow of his bones, grasping breaking clawing broken like a serpent on the throne, in theis makeup of rapid succession the darkness leaves the bats to hone and i am onyl a meal and alone, by the thousands to me flying are the sky rats nil postponed such to dash into the tunnels with the snakes and withwthi bone powder, i stumble and into rats and smashed over burdened those i grab are bloody thrown dieterrent decoys of the posture of fresh loam, into the darkness a wall, a cavern, my magic furious and seriously heightened i glow like a fae at a cavern in a mountaini fall againin the blood and of snakes under my bots, they are safe and i am attacked to flooed of wings of darkness brace for cliche repartee, the bats follow me downward and the snakes lash and leap and strike to eat, scales almost like darkness in the deep, i fall into the pit of the scales and spines of snakes, they snanp and leap and jump above us, above themselves at the bats and i am save, safed, cloaked and captured and locked as they coil the swarm the primordial warmsth of demonoloy, i relax, this is my fate, they cover my eyes, i target action and can't imagine fear at any all, i will swim in the tall tails of creatures, my hand too high they bite and without tearing me or tratangling me they traipse my mortality with the venom of the blind i a am tainted, i am strong with delusion and hallucination, and i stand on themtheir blood grinding coiling wretched sinew onto the sound of crunching bones, and the bats wings in the air tear the dark and silent conciousness to a fervor of furor of winded storm of color and fear and climate of the tru seer, below the scales are the eyes i imagined had i, below the bodies are the stones of older bones of man and reptile, farther textile truth were this the echoing throes of insanity bright bestial vanity the stones are diamonds and the magic is my own, as my blod pours over my boots and mixes with the serpents of endless violence to the crystals, the old magic of the the world consumes my heart in connection with the tomb, by the rivers of the ages thru the underworld resume i am star and birth asunder mountain rising with the power of the moon

eyes wide shut - the prey

that and this the same word, for a waking reminder, lost in the minutia, next, a golden parachute, to remember, the one of the how'd you know, its a little i play this place the loss, the words are typing myself again, you see, i'd priveledge at tht time again the the the, well and well, sometimes this place is death, not for the public the king is always on private land, mischeif, missing xefe, the gluttonous place this weakest place, a flash of madness two worlds one, winning a grave, who be sure it saves the serfes another cure, curil, peculiarity, this is name, my skin i cannot escape, and the daylight never comes, that this deluge descriptive from lecture, to be an end of ever listing in the more, everywhere could be the brimming and unbridles led fire, unsidled rapture soon to make for sail, throw me at the moon my skin's aflight, never not so negated, shredding solo fire bending timber below, i have seen the dead walk across a burning bridge that burdening by the buckle s wretch, guess the tarrif now the sherrif lures the anon this blithe thirst i look into a memory burning like such, a phantom witch, and i still have no hunger, i don't know my name, there are gods i stare my veins unfurling dark harmonies unheard for opoipoisonous roses, a river of blood, i am langour to the splendor of satient mind, this pain sublime is my conversion me, the reflective hell of heaven's reach, are the few so any they cannot come, a fog and the warlock both cut me, and by my eyes two more worlds, the fog is a razor, the trepidation of wordless fright as i ask to hide my fray, haste and away, chaste and bloodbathing play, a new color, or an old one in the electric sight grey, ennui in exponential of paradignm save purgatory, that's it a saviours' displaced, again not as skin now color of the underworld, i beg for the last of your thoughts, we will find who did this, but of only one eyes, and the slightest damnedest, damnd'st really, quickly, my own blood i taste as a rite, those things of initiation placation driven back, broughteth fore, too much a dream as the madness and the memory and the plans of mortality brace for a fog of all the senses turned against the model fences of the fragile brittle mind, so the slaughter can soon find, the theif of life is inadequate to describe my maker, yes, the hell mouth is a creature for dele, no, deletrocious, any part of any parts from scene, a witch stands in the woods hypnotized electrified in hex of absentia, over fangs the deranged spell incantation, supplication that words out are breath inward foreward kindred creature, the lights too bright the days too trite and still loss cannot know the finish in the terminal craze that many follow, like the dream of wars survived by one, i stand among the many silent things that grew in the season anterior, now superior the bloodthirst dancing with the dirt, reaching into the world now my own, the cold mist cuts thru my skioul, scowling down and breaking free a feed of mixture toll and crumbling empires will die from within as the forever sees to own, each molecule of the mist to spy like rain, and the pain were not from having met adversity, they are trees, leave them behind your conquest, time is sand you will over tower each step the stones crossing your path followyou for steps of the empires that crumble in the distance, would you not, and i am dry, like the never before, compared to measuring infinite punishment to the treason of the season of the witch, the neck seems so familiar, i cannot touch but i must dance alone, bright is lesser for the mess of pressure i guess, dresses wounds and dance in the battle slaghter the cattle and rhyme and reason fiend and send, the skin glows, the moon in my mind to tell you seems to fit the thoughts of soldiers died and gone trying so a lying mesure fills that this will creates in the distance, now the hunger outright speaks to me, the predator and pry share a dream it mayhaps glows and gleansms and seems, i see there oh shallit is clean that i cannot fake this hunger when so many cannot this taste the life of ashes and stone, rock, the white is all the eye, like a prisoner of an inkwell having oil in his mouth, the warmth of the doubt understanding, screaming demanding, echo away, singing like a ringing note and i dote on the bwitched self, selfless, selled selflessly, oft are the stares redoubts of doubt, wrapped by the inner sould, this id this displaced child of logic in freedom that intelligence naughts, sinking feeling able to let the earth rise around me, beauty, dismissed by all the busy that cannot lead nro folow nor fret like gatherers in a storm comon, the laught incommun, the many ways to murder something in your way these days, this colony many given take, soemthing always anyways, a response by the two they share their thoughts a pensivevity, profound pressure, just to serve them like a fountain to drink between the nnext forest of the souls, a wake of a new vampire to fall in love with the demon witch in themorning that she frees from silence and blind stare, not blaming measaure on the meetingplace hearts ablaze, nor i if she seduced the vampire or made my soul thirst for hers, would you consume yourself, what, like a dream of standing thru an autumn in its full and fall, you have indeed, wake her and she must breathe her legs anguished and you must carry her, but you see i cannot, drink her by the heart itself, or so else also asunder so seems alseparate cannot, take her up, in either way you can, the day will heal her, but you cannot, i can, you have your own blood to thank for the day survival, but that is god's scary but satisfactory humor, you are, dying, that brings you to your choice, there is not a drop that can stop you from the madness of the vampire, layers of insanity beseech thyself, i can move an so should you, take the witch or which to take, buthe one drop will give you an unending rage of craziness, madness malaise, either way she will praise, that's my fate is to be a droughted poisoned vine or consume for time, if the madness does break you it will soon forsake you, there is a the only other way unseen, the trap of yours is the same, and blood by gain the vision of darkness parting with your carcass for her starving languid starkness or you both shall fall today, and when the fog departs us i shall tell her you once had much to say, the mist of magic forces cut endlessly like every of the falling starrs like knives in the fog

ews - spider witch

formless i am deathless, i go in the way of all modes, the mirroring of words like social justice, and hate for all, that i might never tell a joke again, an acrid taste in my mouth, that i left to remain and i remain to leave, leaving the glass figurine spotlight with a horrid feeling and desparate to do it again, what happened to him, he doesn't take rejection well, before each thought i am lost, my eart races and i know i have won, that i am introverted in the deep mask of space, i think the wind blows the stadows thru the trees, branchless aching no separation torrent of ovidarestltly, something misspelled, the keys ahead of hell, the maze the part of juncture swells the walls alive, too much for now to clear my head, that acrid taste again, a rivulet of light in the otherwise blinding thru the trees, it is night and it is day, this we are all i know, not for nothing, the way that skin itches, i push away the line of the breese of the tree dweller, how was this place, there are no stars and i look to the windows like bored and untoward and needn't so, gather the others we hunt ourselves, they, like them to be so truant, objectivity, all things the ways i feel to follow the sound of the individuality lost like sordid surprise torpor languishing distorder of the mind, so boring, innefectual, shall i tell a joke and then invade the next, another hamlet would only be a subject of feeding, yes?, this place now within your own , simpler things i supposedlyricalitativeituidishlyndricalitrificablition, not as fun as it seems for the sake of a tiny spider on a string, not day, that feeling again where the venom of the moon poisons, werewolves packnest within these and are never withdrawn form the tear, a lucid dream, the night burning reason and stomach organ met for the drinding profession, a monkey on a barrel with a box and you hope to serenade my children, fire from the wings of the true valkyries, the ones that bring the breeze, it is cdorrectlyk, and a thousandeus spiders of a thousand more unleshed by the witch, arid sky, the langour and miles, fit for the trees to have branches so high without leaves, little needles for webs to lay liying lace and traces of primordial medieval, to trifle with the spirits, to live agin, this hidden language that the world so fearful, have been saying to that said, i, i twist my neck and wound and bopund like a fiiddler with malaise and spare change in the bed of the tomb, exactly perhaps is quite the trance, passion glides a thousand travvelers not a storm not a swarm but the breeze of spiinniinngg lines from the pines straight as rain and dry as pain, the moments betray me, curses on the rains, a heated passion sings from the skin, my veins decay, i should have asked more questions of the moon, luna moon and fancy swoon the magic fantasy retrace, enlace me by the hundreds of bones to mend like drying grass in autumns nameday replace my fears with toxic delussions, faced by confronting waste, i hear your insults from the woven gloom sir elder tackling glittering bored and bridled winds a-sidled, there is more for strands to come, the blood enters the walls of rot and dismay missedplaced betray, have done or did, the waste that has wrought or the wrest that has wrung, ink or putrefaccion and the last terminus accion acclaimed and breeze alloof, heard of burden's proof a little smoke of rising, like demons or enterprising by the witches and their war, by the sickness wanting moor, by pledging feast ten thousand more, i am a skelten lost so there must not be depraved as the dragons bind my conciounce and the werewolves would soon rave i am to dy unwilling like sun would lose the day, break the bonds the forest storms the rain, sacred is the pain of poison envoy of the death romance my venom will i cast into thee by the torrid bite of rage, by this i must tell in secret, i previewed the view of living will I served it tall in flames, for this under my skin recurring could not to lose my shadow deraming while i burned my skin again, brightly burning hashing ashes breathing bright thes corpse of same, her armor hard and deathly blackeed bu this time once more again, remember how the dying living can inside a dream reamain, had i won or was i woven in the nightmare all the same, like this i watched the scars of vision play my efforts for a name in this tell is thine, or was i poisoned in the end.

eyes wide shut = the nightmare blade

i suppose while i've got you here i can write something haute cotoure, have gotten have to get, neither on a night of misceif, i'll have the worst job if they let me, interrupted - again - yes i know where the dash is, i inventoried? make the tare to pay the loam that buy the subsidy, but the break to the menial one mights the seller if the regent would work at all, ive no right to ask you this, but will you left, looking for cooperation in the resistance, it'll take some time to purge their thoughts, that i could not take the translation if the sourcecode was indecipherable and the composite translator did not capture memories leaks, it connat be done starting with holes and ending with tools, that'more akin to eating grass, a stretch of the phy psyche, punk techno, industrial new wave, thre was the nether gate to cross the days lost and then I saw these people, not to blame this here, there, the newsie, not the activist, the vengeful anchor, we were all critics now, we will be then, to abrupt methinks of this, and that lo sighting ravaged thing, lénfant sauvage, peeking at twenty feet a ten px thru my eyelashes over a glow and a focus i could see, i saw? the cursor at the right place cursory, but not this time, taste the flesh this way, poetry of pasture to be someting ridiculed, you do not know what you did, no time without measuring and wandering looking for you, saw that perfect , thought me well in both ways, the thing unsaid things, the thing said  tu unsaid things, maychance one more, the loneliness on this without voice, i sound like cheif master when in control, then lost this is that a singing voice thereby, with to for, typing sake, i have not, say halo sing the ring it seem so like it should be it like, things necessary that the sedentary break for monastary casualty as the price to breath this tragedy is the place of being not, if de course you could, and told me i could be a king, it's the exlacl exclamantation that come thru, and i suppose i've ruined those now too, for me its thoughts, that come thru so clear, the same vernaculars, a person thinks as fast as they read, so you all think too slow in so much as then as compression, a first in a long line of thoughts i guess it could be said, yes my eyes are closed again, that only in deep thougths the long sentences can on ocassion, that can be plain mentalist guesses, get sea gold, and others plethora, analytical, bored, never so afore it, this was to clear my thoughts, and so it may again, has not it seems, and this is where they are, feel my honest i can t even, wherenever none to believe, and none to prove no one can focus, i listen to a round table of a thousand souls and the difference is , is that, that, i heard a translation the other day and i'm rethinking my entire life, for the experts, three encrypted, and their three cleartext, that is the plural of itself is itself, i have gluttony myself to pointedly,  it sorrows me the things that call themselves men, can we rightfully say "them"selves, by overlooking itself, enoughts about my mind when there are bones to save and blue fangs in the moon, carving a wolf, wolves to see into a fallen tree, the ravens are fallen totem, our tallest broken, a vmpire drinks water from a serene river called the mirror road with the palm of is own hand, the autumn mage purns a leaf by her palm of hand, the red band long strand of flicker and dither not stands to dalliant stance the qucik romance to which it lends its name, fire of sage te forces four, or five, or three, coven six and warriors three and good were half of eleventeen, into the trees themselves, as long as the instrument did not fold to carriage old the right length of channel to ben the canvas to its mend, but whispers of the beast beneath blue starlit heaven night and firght of ages dense the righteous whence the breeze, and morning apace the lightest grace of seven days, stalker of the leaves, harvester to reaves, voices in the ligtest dawn that falls upon the wasting day, and soon dismay the sight of burn-ed house that island weigh of tears let ghost, his yes began to dry in the sigound of thoughts., touched by the brightness soon the silence in the likeness of the treachury dismayed, are these devils in the mischief or just rebels here to sstay, a boy walks the wicked forest and a wolf is laid, time has no sharper blade, cravings under wonderous lands have put themn at the snd, gathers one witch one when fighting two as half are foe and half was friend, conjoined by race against the wind, double of that long the tracks where both are met by traitors'racks and fire set a fifth alapse and join they at the pagan lapse of judgement they call society, then a lap of thunder and the rain she falls asunder on the fires of leaves and the wolves of trees, a dark nest of branches surround the boy and the canopy calls into the air to call him raven, i made myself like the name but soon the book became the game, a ganger to himself and others like a misery beneath the covers of the finer things in life like tyranny and strife that i meant a life with hunters, had you a better die the higher would be numbers, that doesnt even rhyme, i know, it's scene change, and now the castle rumbles at the spot of time and stone and thunder, a voice bemoans the lessers that rakes and wanders, like a case neneath the grass that will climb the least of last, another insight in the land of others if i were to have my druthers if the line were soon asunder in the dark and dreaery common clearly lights and things of gold, that obscurity would not but send a file assurity, even brak out t their homes, i left out something, ohyes, the simpler science of the undead carving their own names in stone and the dead hunter of life taking forst steps away from the river of time, it walks three hundred paces from the river's edge to find three hundred of the cemetary citizends who forgot they should be sleeping to him signs of devils peeking if to see but how he mauls thru them into the speaking of it later or the bridge of ultimatum had he run from walk or stone, but they arebrittle to the bone and do not affront him nor confront with whome are river to the road, dead to dead, hunger to hunger, labor to labor, breaking many legs he watches them crawl to nary worse fates to such accomplications of dying nations that would burn them as they crawl thruout the oak or oat, bdoes at the bridges of the dead worls of lokis hell, and soon to tell, he makes his rounds in round to such an efferot to barricade the themselves, burning one with wine potent but to spare but of a quotient to make torch and carry flames of vine, like forest fires autumn dry some catch, others damp with swamp and writh the muster of the sight would oft of midnight lights to bring rare travvelers a speech and a blood donation to not second chance travail, the wolves are pale and surly moonrise early and death is still the flesh to smell thruout the vale, the scent allures two ravens and the wolves apparent craven to meat themselves on unholy border's flesh and bone, and one by one they fght for organ meat of the living each other tainted takeing and the unhexed dogs the giving that their pack the sooner three attackes the vampre like a tree, i was bit in the leg and the fangs were lodged, backhanding one with my own claws down slows, impatience grows, it would only be a bravery to see it fight and not remain, stepping on one and holding two only to throw at three, two trusted knives, never had they not made a sound, their blood still warm from the ground that the strength of beast resounds and i am young, and we are young lost foul treacherous witch defamed and dishonored and ill littanies of my wordsto by them mark, the taste of curse and spell of the rotting and walking with desire, soon became a bones and fire, were to would to wil to tell the fire's hell of walking hate and why did they crawl, the beasts, and another, so and still, to them ran like beasts, an d no sound, the torch rols thru the burning oil and emerges bright and into the woods a dark ride, ravens follwing hatred coloring the shadows of the cold evening and faint breeze, not a sound no sound, flames flicker and the torch rolls over itself, a burning hand burns the heart, the noise of it landing , thru the air the torn burning the roof, unto for, my own two knives into my back and i reach at my atack and throw with twist to the ground and cut out a heart, two hands burn my heart, the voices rumble tumble song of antiguado, solemnity a three see, orange, blue, red, jagged grainy crystalls of saltspin around the bruja's handi am blinded by a light un natural or unholy, a potion like bottle set afire from their burning walls takes my jaw by wave of rage conquest of power, itslef a wave to leaap a march calm faster than time to also barrel, throu to find a stoneseparate to her free hand, still afloat, three hands burn my heart and slowed am I, the wolves gnawing at the bone to find blood, the narcisistic reflection cutting the shore, what is the purpose of the carvings, i remove the blace from the heart on a pedastal and it freezes to my skin, i scream and voilently it takes the dead moisture like the queen of hell to cloister me conscrpiption were by chane my only liptian, and of fear a quickish kniptian it thaws and drops in the fell watered leaves, shards explde in my face, the warrior carves into the tree, aslip of the wrist and without blood his skin glows, by the envy the comraderie ends whence the blade is lost to the zombie cheiftess made of shade, perhaps skade, the last wolf looks at him ready to attack, the last witch looks thru the window of a burning building at him wanton to witchery things of things to come and soon undone the second crystal turns to smoke ans suffocates him, my instinct is to run when living and fight when dead and there are no thoughts in my head to discern as again the forest burns, the living watch in awesome fear that keeps them, the curious witch takes my deathblow too slowly,  and i feed on fire and veins and war, thoughts of desparatuion pure, where i was uncertain now in chaos, unable to tear at my spine with hands of tooth and claw supernatural of evil harpees, and lay to be stepped adn skull boot crushed happily after and ever, the hands three burn at my heart a torment tornadoe fomenting folly hardly drought of resistance misgivings and the tide of rage inwilling to sea or ebb controll, i am lost, the sound of my first lightning, the clouds falling thru the air for the curtain of first drink from that river, bones breaking i hear my ribs filling with the blood of my own heart that has not bet in ages in its cage of gold, the blade in hand will chosen take their work outdone by departure, i peirce the forgotton heart, the pain stops, the cauldron begons to smoke and consume flame anient thirst, the last stone lodges in my chest and begins to burn, the smile of choice and death and sexual bliss the fear was never mind and the coven magistrate, this whimpering witch of the diamon house tasted better than any have since, and broken like a twig, into the house, there is no door, the windows burn the walls clear, the fire darkness, bright skies from the ground of infinite dimensions, i remove the blade and the three witches wake and i wait to see who will be death and who will control it, that mental rage of hearts and plague gives growls and teeth like demon wolves and eyes like mine a sign to open them like sacks of wine and drink them until i get to the river

McBain: Carchase

The natural foods store, gym, and steak buffet called 'Smash grab Grab'
(McBain lifting weights.)
McBain: I am heavy from lifting these impossible weights.
(Drops weights; sexy gym instructor approaches)
Mesera: Here, try our new protein and amino booster beer bread, McBain.
(Tries the bread)
McBain: It is delicious, like a very delicious beer bread by Liftko.
(a lifter, smaller than McBain)
Lifter: McBain, how did you defeat the robots in the cyber football charity challenge?
McBain: For the charity to build parks for orphans who lift weights, I defeat the robots, because I verificate them.
(A woman leans over the smoothie bar, buxom, demure in gym clothes, from across the room, shouts)
Barista: McBain, you’ve got an important call from the mayor!
McBain: Thank you, send it to the chat screen.
(The waitress slides the picture of the mayor from her tablet and the gym mirror wall becomes a video conference)
Mayor: McBain! There’s a car chase on the ONE-THOUSAND-ONE highway, you have to help me!
McBain: Of course, Mayor Nickelback – but I do it for the city. Team, assemble!
Mayor Nick Le Bach: Thank you, McBain, you’re all we have.
(The dumbbell rack at the mirror slides and gun racks rise out of the floor)
Mesera: What are you going to do, McBain?
McBain: I am to be making them sufferate, let’s roll out.
(McBain gets into the fastest street-legal car allowed. she hops into the passenger seat)
McBain: You are pretty in your boots, are you ready to kick ass?
(The tires spin, the car leaps)
Mesera: Let’s serve the piece, McBain!
(She checks her guns.)
(Joyriding terrorists, three cars, tossing grenades)
McBain: Attention terrorist customers, time to make your final death purchase.
(He punches his own window once, the whole windshield flies out and decapitates a terrorist)
Mesera: You watch the road and the grenades, McBain, I’ll shoot the terrorists.
(A blast comes close; she leans back and aims a sniper rifle, her shoulders press together, she shoots one dead; a grenade hurls toward his car, he shoots it with his pistol, also wounding one of them)
McBain: Terrorists are so garbage, we have to clear the road – because it’s trash day.
(He fires all his bullets at them determinedly, killing four; a rocket launcher peaks out of a roof)
McBain: Shoot at the top!
Mesera: Okay.
(She fires as many shots as possible, but does not hit the swerving target; the rocket fires toward them)
Mesera: McBain!
(He swerves his car; the blast launches him at the closest car; with the gatlin gun that was strapped to his back, he flies thru the air delivering a hail of bullets with him; he latches onto the back at the bullet holes, he reaches his ear-radio)
McBain: Are you okay?
(She stands and exits the fire; her shirt is torn and burned away; hair now with streaks of ash and soot)
Mesera: I’m fine, just be careful, they seem like they’re ready for the end of the world, McBain.
McBain: Don’t worry, Armageddon outta here with a-pack-a-lips, because terrorists can kiss my ass!
(only the two in the front seat; he punches the driver and takes his gun, shoots the rocket guy making the missile just barely miss, the rocket hits a man robbing an old lady, lady lives(parking meter crax open))
McBain: Public outreach program.
(they shoot at him, they hit the passenger, one car done; he climbs into the cab and drifts toward the second car, accelerating with the dead driver’s foot on the gas pedal, another rocket fires down on the car, but he leaps from the passenger door at the second car; she drives a car thru the smoke of the blast)
Mesera: Hang in there, McBain; I’m on your six.
Terrorist: Fuck you!
McBain: Right fuck, wrong you.
(McBain breaks his arm and shoots one other, then makes him shoot himself, thrown into the road she runs him over)
McBain: Caution, bump-a-head.
(She shoots the rocket person, wounding him; McBain takes the rocket launcher and runs for the third car)
McBain: Hit the third car with your car!
(He leaps and fires a rocket back at the middle car; without the momentum to get to the third he lands on the hood of her car; she holds a pistol out the window; he uses it to shoot six terrorists in the head with six shots; their car rolls off the road, when they stop he climbs off the hood of her truck; police arrive and begin to applaud)
Cop: That was great, you’re a hero!
Cop2: We owe you, man!
Mesera: Yeah, that was pretty good, McBain.
McBain: Good you hit that car with a good hit. Besides, it was time someone teach them that street warfare is like sex, if you’re not careful innocent neighbors will get hurt.
Mesera: What are you going to tell Mayor Le Bach?
McBain: Then I will tell him I’m going to a place to make babies like planned-parenthood in reverse.
(*McBain takes her in his arms, their breath and heartbeats; he carries her to the nearest ambulance)

eyes wide shut - packhunter

in to the ocean, i close my eyes bound in find, to do the swimming thing, a sunset, a wranglers of nightmares, a name, not without end it was, to find the traces just that and of light of no fear greater, into the ocean, sshaped at the thing that traces the world and lines the lands, dthat i would turn away from the light, this ragedy anchor matches the pale light, a floor this i see now, its never the same in a watery coffin, that i would need sleep to rest, turn the moonlight sand, i was not a normal man, dragging the body to the ocean, into the ocean there are gears already in motion for a machine of revolution, the dancing horizon of of white waves and dark secrets in the day, the pressure confounds me, like the tide of the oppressor andthe dust of castles; let us make the shell, sharp and sturdy, broken by careful pestle makers must not touch the poison debris, float some mostly notn, this is the wind same, we made teh one who didn't exist the wrost as he blinded himself on the ocean before the stars could shine the way, the stars so far from each other, so many distant far from many may I, and make I, they seem to reflect, the cells of our marrow seem so very far compared to the style of distanc legions, the paragraph goes as i peaked again, night screen gives itself away in prayer, nothing else in the darkness, staring at the shoreline this time, i could ask my skin be brushed by nails of hand, this sea of nightmares, the little weeds that the horse gives to supper and swiftness strides over and on, tethered and gone, mysterious messanger behind the hunter veil, the thin tax a cerulean fairweather game, only my future will i let you see, i did as they asked and I knew, no, the truth and something else, sparing implication just that the moment has passed, riveting the body of the damned to pieces of stiches like deepwater bridgres and space gives me witches like they weren't of here by now, my thinking game a maze in the darkness, like slaves to joy the rooftops were the bottom of the spider' s nest, that like a drove of feathers' cove a lesson had been been spilt, i have the guilt, like the sea and kites, a log was made in earnest, i will sail on this log to the water wall and ask for three visions, as i did yesterday, as his yesterday did before him, a fetish of indulgence, shortness of breath and pain in the spine taking recruits to the marianas trench to see the watermaker king, by this faction will I go, the currents of colors of currents, the moon fish, the light that cannot hide in illumination, the polycolor and the ancient swim that keys of creatures evil like birds and men, the merfold seek a bridge to familiar and the shores were full of rage, darenot return me i was source to live instead, a tired folk must be nearby because this shore has driftwood and no cities as far as can be seen the sand and verdent grass, not mud, but not warm and trees of bog that lean but do not bear their leaves, souls and breeze, no tide, save nor sunset or rise, nor waves of size resplendant, and i would walk for a town without a cane in fear of energy saved and stamina raved to kill or fight again the luck this day, these days, from whence on whither had I been, i would take up limber arm were bear to be woken by awkward footing, i come to the road uncomfortable laying waet clothes like rotting skin, alone i face the day and sharpen the weapon, the bear had cut the mooring ropes, and i walked and met three witches that finishe each other's sentences, i may have told you about that, the bear had been as any doe and i would not question one for the chance, and had i top chance to open the box this longer road of hiding of a givft and delivering a a deliverance, a recompence for revengeance, i peaked again, a dress as good as mine, a truth i have told some and may not tell another, i would look to a bear in a tree at the ocean, as my morning meditation, the nonsense of find without nonasense, paying a token as adrop in the ocean toward a chance to strech my neck beneath the sentencing ax, a bear at my eyes, anger of thundre and rage for the seeing as had not, a curtain and falling trees sharing roots woven above the ground together, a bear king, these jumbled thougts, i make their home, an axe to a leg and it cannot fall without cracking booming, i peak to see if it is over, a hand of fire, crates like no other, shipping with them drinks enough, contents as much lost as the messenger's morality on the despot, a heavy hand to a three sides coin, the ship betrays the sea, the spy began sending fifts the wrong destination sent, and when we mailed ourselves a restoration we had met a destruction of kindle and leaves, no worse the fare and wearing fairly other's blood and danced macabre for a theif and king, a hammer of nails like a mallet of an ax turns my stare to its farest still, a tree attacks me and the bear dives for my chest two paws will press my botton andI will off, open boxes and the guards stay still once we leave, the sand in my hands falls like an hourglass, the sand as I crawl out tears at my softened hands, the werewolf was a shock surprised me but the moon was not his own and old, the tree turned on me because they thought i made them turn on each other as they would also do the day before the true moon, i fight at the rageing beast, a swing of the paw like a swinging pendulum below it and i am thrown aside like a toy in the darkness of forest, my eyes glow, my enemy's eyes glow I run it thru with its own weight, and impale it to a tree, it had ordered me dead with the perfect english that bears have, one demanded i fly without wings, one demanded i be burried and the two made me feel nautius as they held me avove the ground; this thrid one, who had told the spy, i will go back for justice, fire and ice and all so in my veins, this damned wolv playes , maybe i will stop running, i ran with the wounded leg on the long road, looking and figthing, tired reaching magics of beams and such you understand of sure, toying with me again, had this werewolf told me he feared the bear pendant i wouldve stabbed it with the dagger, the bear magic handle of something else this curse, sooner, calmer, and bites my leg and takes the pendant, in the wrong boxes i search, the stockyards smell, the castle is empty, we split up, the many four and I, alone i worry and dote on them miraculously serindipitous, felicity that mortal men have limits of pain and pride, the bottle like a sould to the wine portable tomb, the spirit ripples thruout the body, the bougquet and in the box the amulet of dirty silver, old and scracted at first was only the points of ornate engraved har, and one had said to use it, and one had said how to use it, and one had stopped them both, come to her senses, they agreed as if they were it seemingly had been they talked to themselves as one it confused me after all, a breaking point or strange things, like surprised kings and demon bears and wolves tht tear your close clothes for the sake of a fractured mind the moon behind the sun sublime horiozon sailing down with passengers as two ships sailed, the trouble would end breathing the scream of blood noww in turn , and travels with a walk to the inn.

eyes wide shut - scales and ash

well this has to start with what' sdeeply got me, the same by the lessons as by the experience, if the in door is blocking certain people but only if they don't use the in doror, do you want me to revert to animalistic existence now or later, because that makes no fucking sense, in thru the out door, i'm sorry but your question must be in the form of an actual question, the strange way you find humorous isn't a joke if you have to explain it, and the facts that you won't share serve no purpose, i say you, but i really mean something less specific, like only you, or totally something you'd do because i can't trus anyone, is this how you feel, not thinking but saying things, if you come to me without a solution i'll call you a politician, if you gave the queen something so irrelevant i'd want your liver, and that's only the start of things ot come, the socials became so antisocial, stop tearing my fucking world apart, its by some strange chance that i keep writing these, like a river in the rain, those of you who aren't reading this are ignoring the last of them, soon we won't need ai and the singularity will lead you around like pets, or one of the many structures we've designed for you, what many i've designed, four, five, more, it  is really wierd and i have to do it again, are you even somnolent, tienes un rato, i don't think you do, the people war and you wander the spheres of darkness, if necessity creates invention, desire destroys war, it is , interrupted by something, it was nothing, it must have been something not to have been the less that the more could have been not being for the other chance to not have not been, where was i, grasslands of summer night cool and tiresome, sleeping in the moonlight, i am a wolf and will now attack this dragon, nonsense, the signal flares, roaming roving scouting parties, this is a warfield in the setting of seven suns, tiresome too complex to think, these my early nights, something overindulgent, i don't sound like this, the mask of avalon, two hundred, fourty four, my feet are stronger than the ground, i am akin to nothing here, the white fieilds of laramie plains in the summer coolness, i've never been, the start of some great novbel about a time that's never been in a transcendenct geographic fantasy of women and war and wine without worry, not this for those fools, am i familiar, this writing principle, the song changes by prediction, i say as much this true man state my world would be and soon you cast me into the ever dark greeness, whoever you are, however it happened, a memorry is darkness now for me, the dark fading from my eyes this gren grass around me, napping in, well, here along the anyplace this ever be, you are a tree and i cut you donw, down for i cut, however its it's said, so many is a question, tantas, i'm remembering stereotype of someone elses words, let me breath far more less shallow ;;;; there it seems i'm ready, i don't look ready, now how, why foist work on me to be done, no where am i, excuse me oh shit, where the fuck is this, oh great, next song a pit of snakes, not vipers, vituperous clouds of raining mountains like knives as an ocean and lies like the motion of lost masses, bring me the priest of war and make him king, i will be the confused monster and you, well i hope you get this, this now , always looking up this trees time now the memories of things made from theme, their falling around me, that can happen to surly sorrowed saps, the condition changes imagination, influence, the pendelum of permutation, the inevitable hanging of a strawman, and i thought you weren't lesser lifeforms, and i writing this or is a reapeat, if the storm is the rider than the fall is the sky, oireconaissance renaisance, , i see in the quarry wide gray gravel and stone, like the new one old near abouts, it is dark and raining like this sky i know to be the wheather temperate, lead the way, that there was a man who becomes monster, you should end right here, how will i keep repeating the same thing over and over, I kno, they just don't know the ship is dry docked and it's not even a ship, it's a box that rots, have you heard the one where they charge you to pay for the charges, fighting the horseman of pestilence, q peste, with halberd, its the , a face, familiar changing to intrigue me, so that i don't talk about myself, so which by this i meant we're moving on withthe story, this i light might i may take the keys typing agian, randon, not truly random, that no one could guess i hid it on mars, a river bridge, no, just nonsense like the light in the dark, you are my light, i cannot trust my style of writing and i begin to think that i have no proper words, still shallwo, where are the birds, it undergoes a reconciliation, i agree with the darkness that it cannot take me into its heart, the deep, soothing sounds a sickness deep whthin humanity, to I rust humanity, i don't think so, it is not anything if i think it or not, hamlet, dude, oh just remembered that, have you seen denmark, it's full of people that only speak english, do you speak it, i don't know, people haven't talked to anyone in years, i took a break to see if i could, because i knew if i f when i came they'd hate me and love me, idk what even that to meant, it be may it might, gibberish, lacostambremesbre, you're just trying to get us in trouble, no wolves, the wolves feeding, a sound the river waking the morning breaking the sunlight taking away the koleidscope tears, memories hanging like prints, shreds, lament their , okay that part is dark, like a retard waiting to form a question or an arrogant tripelung plotting to stump me on emotions, the thing we're born unto if normal, yes the tongues of the highlands, hills and darkness, the sacrifice of wizard betrayer in the nightfall with red fire, and somethingit somes and takes hime, you were saying about the , the dogs feast, the road along the river along the wood, i think i know what im doing here, the dragon attacks, the fairies are here, there are too many trees to run, there are too many throats to cut, klingon proverb, there are too many words here, you're a critic as well, fuck all that you adore, my words are mine, there are lovers, three, damn this place of nowhere, a long false apologies myself given reprieve, no own my what the actual, even, no, well to pass with air what, a witch in a cabin in a clearning of an old time, with a dog that she understands the mental powers, i see the dog can i be the dog, layers, you were working on layers, ive peaked succintly, that this suppsed hiding place will doit is not our way to take thise places for stories, random key, when they make their home they always forget to build a mountain, i crack my knuckles which i had admiting yes the commos over here horse strie, i did too, i had told myself that i'd only do that at home, despite it not of worry, from a lyric i heard, there, past tnse, yo oyo', it was always to easier, to be past perfect when speaking to my past, i grant so little priveledge to my past, it is my jaunting jester, the past, it is, like a self, to make things better in that moment, or is that morality, i know not what i do, but they would not like me if i turned avarice, nor is it yellow and bu but all the flowers aren't edible and the meals served by dullards are ill and poor like their owners onus and the pontiac , something of deers, this is a different forest, this is , is htis the one, sorry, i have known yes, to tell that i'm not sykik, it matters not, that it is not, that it is not, this an answer to none so much the way that is the hook to making a charade a facade to a masquerade of a farce for a soliloquy of endeavevords, endeavored, this place is decay without your blood, so i must protect the queen, but only if she is alive, and if she is dead, that's the morality it, live alone, lone alive, that, tttt, hive you dareth not touch her with a country i could not die  wthin it, or shall i promise, oh yeah, ye, ya, yes, um, you would not like it so i do not do it, this principle thing that i don't know what is for facetious matters, nor emotional quotient context or venture to gain the wherewithal of stupid human trick and tereasures, am i an enemy, then smile as i want you dead, this is your way, fuck, yes, dscribing things here, this long tale, happiness, the darker mountains, the mountain time is the forgotten time, where , i had minions, wolves to hunt for me, is this starting over, blind is an opposite specials just for you, i nearly did, wavelength serial oppression, are likely targets, the report read form the stenotype, my awkward king, trapped as that as i can, please , then by, no, the trees are all the same, and the traveler companion was killed instant instant instant, a card came the players are tokens, i knew the dragon and it's skales and blood are all, place, faces of it a memory, off white, indiscriminate light, run the dead walk in thise sylvan holdings, trappings, more of the first great fire, lilygren forest went alight, destination borrowed word, dedication by a wolf in the stream, hoding a bloody dagger, love i have killed you, a new romantic overture i have killed me, and now it seems, and no, type decay i hlpe, the two travellers talking, it is confusing, but it is a confusing face, here i have been many times, this bplace bores me, you bore me, i wish to dance in the trees, you doubt me dragon, the light has no end in the fog from whience it hais, doul rage misforturne, i wonder of vision past, but the clubfoot tail kcocketh me soon defooted, waves of light, the mirror magic face of fire negative rememory light a space in time, and electricty, the dragon bites the gree snap of teeth into its thin bark, talongs make it a wlf of the reeds, i will not make it, leave apace nay anent dally go thee ; wretched a word the pointed hat, a friends, cofee and tea, and back howl out witch blind to take not this time striving taketh synicism lyricacal , a hand on the firey mountain edg creature, i can take its heart , the tree that falls attacks me, the forest is a river of shards of saplings and fire much fire the bite of jaw, myself included, penpoint your thoughts, a mouth of talons or a handful of knivesremember the sheild the witch tells me, do you, stand down soldier, have i, he is not going with them, you will fight him, my shoulder becomes a sheild and i am thrown below the furncace furnace that is killing me, crooked skales, hahorse hooves of axes and bolas, bumrush the belly of the beast, the bite cannot make meal at first, like a cat it curls and balance forward becomes the mind mind of a free flowing tail and topples aside, glad i am to pull the broken tree and try to pin its breath, the neck, touching the back, remember it is soft, like the wind a bow is the the weapon that cuts thru an open hand like a knife, the wind pulls the sail and the ship cuts thru the sea and  as the arrow does, you are good to me here, that like an acid trip began the  vision, and the mystery woven in my skill to set it out that wy, gueided the tree to its neck, only angering it, i would flight from these, i saw claws come at my eyes ans and so i moved, i check my knuckeles again, an old heat, the forest is very burning, the wing opens it reaches acrossedwise the force for which it moves without flight is a sheet of scales shedding a thousand thousand thousand nails with blood that burns like black acid tar rain at my eyes, the sheild is strong like the sails, but the arrow takes the sail, that is it our high lord or you say all high one would sail a ship so big that when he sails off the edge of this world it tears the page into a sphere and binds to oceans, that one man's arrow would revenge itself trussed upon such, not akite a hammer, not a ring a curtain, bonded i ould never hurt theee, , my arm hides my face and the blue light prevails against the so many flying arrowheads that the magic barrier pushes him into the dirt, and the fire, and the broken trees, and the smoke, and the light, forced to hurt the predator, the river sings like silence, the grass blows in the summerbreeze, the mountain cabin sleeps, the wolves watch a man wake and rise from the river, those two men talking we'll take a lesson from in the next tale, sorry, the dragon  has yes now red and leading lava, does beast they rage in so how, the scales flung bonded with the bnlue magic around his fists, his own fingers like knives, the only way to kill a dragon properly, with your own handsthere would be now excape, nor flight, nor call, nor heart beat, it leaps and downed, it opens and torn is, it calls and gnashed, the blood burns away reformed scales, it attacks, broken wings spread above hm a, wraped talongs on his own heart, , his fight exchanged for the dragon's heart, a fight for the passage that danger has introduced

Re+Vision

The capitalist will grade a student on what has been taught,
the communist will grade the student on what student teaches themselves,
I know that now.

The former taxes what can be shared,
the latter takes what is in no way theirs,
This is no sign of strength,
I know that now.

Scarper farther hither thence,
the heads along the picket fence,
rather neither happen lithe,
I hope the both an afterlife,
those piss-ant rhymes and broken bones,
the scales among the serpent throne,
I am convinced they know not what this builds,
farthest from farming lessons and farthest from fields,
I know that now.

I cannot hate and yet incipient rages, a remnant of the survivors of middle ages,
the ones I love in golden cages, I walk on the floors of the tower, hiding my lessons as I cower,
to fools and silly faggots who think happy thoughts confusing themselves for each other, and the breaking lesson leaning lost against the power, they cannot laugh and cannot love, and they are too many to count,
I know that now.

I will page for a loser and look for someone who wants to see, autumn the letters of leaves by the sun hiding in dead trees grows cold by elderly children, so many ways to lose how to say all things, and the truth could ring and they do not help and they do not hinder, and their ghosts persistent linger and I cannot kill a memory, a violent death serenity by the ghost itself the enemy in a time of haste and threnody and I cannot forget, they chide me, I am chaste by opportunity in a kingdom of peons, bait and whipping switch and one moon my only witch, and all the problems they dare not solve for some reason I impel myself like psychic brutal treason to promptly solve,
I know that now.

And a longer word for passers by that pisser wry would contrive by sooner hence their birthday lives, if there are three sections of this realm apart and one of them is at the start, apace below them silent in a race that do not work, and overlooking dancing loosely on the noses of the very premonitions they downward spiral look that books and crooks can see with only looks to their name, how so it is a rampant moshpit, silent skeleton setting precedent like an accident wrapped in law that's bent, is it to a starving soul reaper like a forest for the trees that the soul would never leave and the roots can never ever daren't seize, is there not a quiet rumbling while the point to pointers tumbling and the dancers of the daylight are the children and their mumbling without pressure or the sundering sooner stronger for the longer are the fonder of the night, brightly just as ever-present, that something is not right...

Nt 19 – Ghost Key

Nt 19 – Ghost Key

Someone in a black hood walks thru the city and the people. Into a building, he quickly uses a computer to sound a falsified alarm. At the exits, he steals an employee badge and uses the card at the exit, but does not leave. Unable to login to the teller machine that thinks him signed-out, the employee re-authenticates as the hooded man watches, once retrofitted he jams the camera and hacks the door, the alert causes security guards, but he is onto another door, he hacks the cameras in the corridor with a high-frequency airgap blast. In mass chaos, the surveillance office opens and he tranquilizes the attendant. Into that office and a hack to show the clocks countdown to interval backups, every so many seconds and traces would begin, safely clean the biometric monitoring failsafe notices the heartbeat irregularity of the tranquilized guard. When the door knocks, the hooded man picks up a hat and leans around the door and assures to a point of rest, when the authentication protocol initiates, with partial aggravation he lifts the sleeping guard’s head and opened eye slammed into the desk, to let him fall to the floor. His phone finishes hacking an ident into the network, a new badge programmed even quicker, into the showroom. A racecar for luxury, each of four wheels on independent rotary cylinders for attendees to practice revving up the engine, the hooded hacker’s phone senses the car and begins to spin the tires, nowhere fast. A powder in the alcoholic potions and a spill of the champagne into the tumblers and the car leaps from pedestal attempting the speed of sound, thru a dozen walls and the rest of an upscale shopping mall in zone 42, this, was just the distraction. The hacker waits for the police to arrive, as they interview him as he hacks their phones, their tools, and their psyches. They wander from guest to guest, scanning them for threats. Unknowingly hacking each guest with police equipment that passes every public and private antivirus/intrusion detection. He leaves the party unbothered, his false identity vanishes as he idents himself thru the gate, with credentials for the wealthiest from many nearby sectors. Home again, he finds dangerous information, a plan to experiment using black holes, but to experiment so in the middle of the megacity. He gets the coordinates and goes to investigate.

Downtown Hanlon

“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” #HanlonsRazor

Among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions remains closest to accuracy. Although separate intricate solutions may possibly inevitably prove true; without containing certainty, the fewer actions based on assumptions made, the more appropriate an outcome will become. However, nothing is safe when left to certainty. The ability for things to revert to solitude is natural to nature and requires no direction. Even as native resources, and insomuch byproduct, fertilize society to flourish, the choice of leadership often relies on familiarity and reputation rather than an aptitude for impending roles. Damage controls itself, theory chaotic purely, as incompetence comes to the front. Although certainty plagues the masses, it beleaguers the common, reality is the force behind democracy, a free people choose according to their will by decree of majority, and in choosing poorly, a mediocre individual chooses what comes easiest to him or her. The river takes the simpler path, an individual has a much lesser chance to make an educated decision than the electorate can, which is how private sector makes the nails and bureaucracy lets them rust. A single bureaucrat, if extending beyond their scope of duty, make bad choices and worse choices, combine that with nepotism where defined responsibility is frivolous, knot of illegitimate bureaucrats working together to make mistakes in exponential value. It is no wonder to me that politicians are fat and lazy or easily swindled and soon follow suit.

A deer in headlights...in an office

Dear Open Office,

I understand that some Linux programs get forgotten and abandoned. There are so much as even sometimes that I question to as why there are programs to modify desktop environments based on other environments that exist only to control kernel elements that could be in the mofo control panel. Although, I think it should be said;

When I paste an image from anywhere into Open_Office the alignment turns to shit and the application sucks the joy out of life, like a bureaucrat on a day of the week that ends in Y.

The default setting should be FUNCTIONAL

NT/18 – Second Skin

NT/18 – Second Skin

There had been wars and when each came, those forged from deeper blood and harder bone, and when death came for them, they had fought. One path in the wild carved solely for them, that the sea was made by boats and the sky was made by planes, that noise was made by signal in a world built by walls, and the centuries passed. When the terraforming became a success the deserts vanished, with the new growth and the population, the oceans lowered, soon there were only seas, and soon the only deserts were where the oceans had hid them, for the new territory came the new ‘Great War’.

Something about peace without preparation creates the culminated opposite of both, for this men were medically altered to wear technological armor they could monitor with their brains, weapons and shields became the new skill and strength to them. As many wars begin for some reason of perceived loss, so too had one soldier joined when the war took his civilian family. Into his arms, holes drilled for shields to mount, his legs and back, his feet and neck, all for the armor of an army ant, and he fought, but in 3 years’ time, the war was over. The brain hack discovered allowed these wars to resolve as actual chess, or whichever game you prefer. That is, if you know how to play them. What becomes of the game masters uncertain, as unknown as the modified soldiers, many of whom which are lost from the world turned to illegal black-market gambling events.

We find our unnamed soldier, in a massive vehicle scrapyard, salvaging tech from vehicles, making new age and old-school weapons, a small person comes and tells him an event will happen in a few hours, and he drinks booze in the hot midday sun.

Disastrous moguls and warlords gather one by one, in mobile armored vehicles with armored mobile guards. The vices of the ages remain the same, used in celebration beyond necessity. The gamblers place their bets on and against someone who could not pay their own debts and the soldier begins to hunt him.

The chosen prey of this match is formidably skilled, eyeing the gamblers and avoiding the hunter, attempting to shoot them the hunter confronts him. A sniper shoots one of the gamblers and the soldier becomes scared and tense, he finds the prey with the sniper, the rifle on the ground.

The sniper peels back his jacket collar to reveal the logo of their shared employer, and then holds the prey out to the side without being body shielded.

Sniper: Walk him there out ways for to see they shall and kill him.
X-Soldier: Why did not you radio me into the loop?
Sniper: Too much attention, boss’s orders….....I would not be here if lying I were.
X-Soldier: Run into the street and I will make it painless.
Prey: Those things, is that why you are here? I can remove them, not just cover them, I can get rid of all of them.
X-Soldier: They are a part of you now. There is no going back.

The hunter shoots him with a particle-phase-laser-concussion. The wound melts his chest and the weapon cools audibly. He drags the prey into the causeway and in front of the audience. There are cheers, music of intensity echoing the kill, and eventually servants clean the gambler’s blood.

The next day, another prey arrives, the battle begins and soon reveals that he is more so an apt opponent, a former soldier from a formerly opposing country of a former war. The hunter becomes hunted hurries to win, the battleground is rife with obstacles and the newcomer stares him in the eyes. The danger is laden, wanton recklessness fueled only by rage as fear moves their feet quickly to collisions of sake and sinister division, with precise strikes of snakes and thrashing like horses as each clash.

With hesitation and regret below the hot sun, the ex-soldier remembers his workshop at middle way of the scrapyard and runs for the weapons before spilling all his sweat or blood, or both. Forced by instinct, the challenger races in the same direction feeling the knowledge remembered is his to understand the likewise, they collide and roll in close-proximity and fight alike, one the ground amongst ruin with the strength of wild bears.

The unnamed soldier wins nearly killing the challenger, pinning him beneath a mass of scrap he turns to look at the gamblers’ box, his employer smiling and taking money hand over fist with a cigar in his grin.

The soldier begins to sweat blood, when the light of the sun pierces the glare and begins to burn his rage-red face he charges toward the betting tower. Thru obstacles snipers await greeting him who think he has come to bow in glory, he neutralizes them first. He leaps into the observation watchtower thru the glass and subdues his employer. All guns in the room point at him.

X-Soldier: I die, his books die, and nobody gets their payout!

The sound of hands gripping weapons in emotion.

Gangster: What f! troubles you, ex-soldier?
X-Soldier: Are you paying them, or are they paying you….say it you lying f!!!

The room grows silent enough that the soldier’s heartbeat pounds thru his backplane.

Gangster: Everyone wins ….house loses, challenger forfeits.

The sound of hands relaxing from weapons in relief.

X-Soldier: YOU TRIED TO TEST ME? NOW? HERE, IN A MATCH?

Closer to intimidate, quieter to intimate.

X-Soldier: Tell me what debt I owe you other than I drag your insides over your outsides after I peel them in layers for a bed …OF ANGRY LEECHES!

Gangster: Pay I will you just do not kill me!
X-Soldier: You want to buy me out. Your debt to me is as big as life itself. You want to replace me, fine he is alive, keep him, and after you find and fix him, but if you ever even think a bad thought about me wherever and after I dig in and link up, I will burn you in your own money sell the tape to Media Outlet.

The ex-soldier walks, stops at sexy woman.

X-Soldier: You think that was dangerous.
Bombshell: No.
X-Soldier: You want to get the hell out of here.
Bombshell: Oh hell yes.

The man who had accompanied her tries to intervene, he stops under the gaze of the ex-soldier. She laughs and he picks her up in his arms and leaves the room. He has his own car; the spectator box explodes as they leave.

al césar

¿Cuál es mi meta general definitiva

cuál es mi meta para hoy

he hecho todo lo posible para alcanzar ese objetivo hoy

cuál está el progreso que lo veo y siento

estoy moviendo hacía una dirección positiva

cómo es mi plan de nutricional de comer hecho, efectivo y seguido

fueron mis ejercicios personalizados de hoy añadiendo a mi meta

hice dar un buen esfuerzo durante la sesión entrenamiento hoy

hice omitir cualquier ejercicio, y por qué

estoy tener suficiente sueño y descanso

cuánto motivado estoy

es necesario realizar algunos cambios en mi plan

me estaba equilibrada y centrado

en cómo camino

regreso a la vida más calma y correctamente?

Merlin 3:52 Master’s Apprentices

Merlin 3:52 Master’s Apprentices (Deliverance)

City Drenthe

Ana louds as wagon hits bump, she profanes as Merlin, Nick, and her wagoner wager on how many days until childbirth. Troy flies low, leaning aside passing over, pointing over woods to a quiet, half-empty city. As the inquisitive farmer asks, told to keep going, the wheels rudder thru damp soil and wagon creaks. Troy and his phoenix land near where Kylesa waits, he runs and jumps from buildings’ tops to her and fondly meets, thru curtained doorway the drapery falls.

Twice as far from twice as far behind Merlin, Varin the halfling scout has not slept, to keep an eye scanning on all horizons. Bella sleeps above piled hay, and wakes.

Bella: Are we anywhere near something yet?
Varin: We just passed a sign.
Bella: Well what did it say?
Varin: I do not know.
Bella: What did it say, or do I have to sleep it out of you again?

They bond with amiability, his body of strength against her nestling fondness.

Varin: A popular city ahead of our way, so there will be travelers for you to rob if by your need.
Bella: I wouldn’t rob them; I’d just cast aspersions instead of telling them how pretty they are.
Varin: Not have I made nothing, I fall for you from less …but if not thieves, why are ye indebted to Völund?
Bella: Like, some swan maiden ate a royal dwarf’s heart or something and the little superior claimed treason in the middle of a banquet, for traitors by the way, and so the blame to themselves and insults to each other, and I was there to watch my brother pretend to cozy with one of the warlords. That way a prince, that particular one anyway, would notice me while my brother could do our real task of saving a different swan maiden, all so that I could have the prince and his troop protect me while I watched over Jim, but that went to shit when they started killing each other at dinner.

Varin: I see.

Bella: And then I saw this woman in a red robe, but there was a white dress slipping from it, so I go to check her and see if the different swan maiden I sought to deliver and it is of course not. When the prince’s man finds me again, my brother with him, me covered in his blood from saving him, but it looks as if I am killing him, so we decided to sleep the other dude and use his knife for the mercy kill and leave it. Thereof, we go to grab the swan maiden, I see that girl again, and she was putting on the robe, with bloody hands and the swan maiden dying, so I throw a poison-tooth into her back. When the maiden started laughing, I knew I was standing in one too many bad holes in the ground.

Varin: It was the wrong girl.

Bella: The wrong girl, and a trail of bodies with blood on my hands, so everyone thinks I had been running around the castle randomly killing people, I do not do randomness. Worse, the thing got up and started eating the heart of the girl I did not save and jumps out the window, up, not down, up the outer wall, and now I owe Völund a golden egg or something.
Varin: Or something.
Bella: So we’re away, who’s your target?
Varin: Völund is of knowledge that she walked freely thru the city of vampires that nearly killed you. I worry little on the realm of possibility, but I know not how were ye plague witches, powered twofold as siblings, unable to poison human soldiers to their knees?
Bella: The arbitress. The soldiers bonded to her would taste no toxin, lest their portion stands as their pain passes to only a portion of her magic, potent and portentous. I drew on the wounded that were not already cold, my brother later will do the same.
Varin: Then who is the real arbitress, after all?
Bella: In truth, I consume the energy that poisons entropy; the hollows of the soul are a feast of scars like dawn and hoarfrost. What kind of name is Varin?
Varin: Do you really want to know?

Vampire spies enter City Drenthe of sickness to see why guards do not top posts along the walls. Thru a large gate, they see a single sleeping man, with ether and rag they assure his sunset slumber and part ways, one into alley, one into street, one onto the wall. Atop the barrier each post has abandoned weapons and in the streets only pissers of any night, the same by he in the street, the same by he in the alley. With faces and hands they communicate to reconvene together in shadows.

Ophiuchus meditates in a moonlit field listening to the air. He enters City Drenthe, and steals shadows to hide.

Afar, while Varin and Bella can see the city candles of windows of couples and the moonlight surface and secrets. Behind them are Völund’s scouts, quicker to message him than they are, and but behind them even farther are Lilith’s werewolves, the Berserkers rabid, crazier coy, leaping for them until taking them from their horses and holding them beneath teeth of anger.

Lilith: Spies outside their own wall are spies in deed.
Velar: What is our crime?
Lilith: Commonness has idealized the lighter elves, a merry lot who dance their ringlets on the grass, I know you sharpen your teeth at night.
Velar: In our original habitations, we are paint makers and farmers, but I know you are demoness.
Lilith: Your people are ash where I was born, so remember the hunger above you and tell me; why does that barrow now stand hovel and perish without trace?
Velar: What..?
Lilith: I smell a plague, as you would recognize the sun, theirs is fresh and full as if at the behest of the dead. What happened in your town?
Velar: I’ve never been to that town.
Lilith: Kill the other. Hold this one.

They drag his counterpart away screaming and feast in the road.

Velar: Do not feed me to the werewolves…
Lilith: They’re feeding you to me.

Velar screams at death, her eyes red, her teeth bright, her smile wide. At the sound, the vampires in the city rush atop the wall, seeing what the citizens would not have heard. Using a scope lens from the guard post, one watches the consumption, hurried Lilith looks deep into the lens and they vanish quickly from sight.

Merlin: Did you hear something?
Ana/Nick: No.
Nick: Should I find the trouble without?

Merlin moves curtain aside in time to see one of the vampires leaping to the street from the wall. He notices Merlin in the window, his eyes electric and normal as the vampire runs into darkness.

Merlin: Be ready for strange.
Ana: You better not, hey, unless it’s fried eel. Can you find that in the morning?
Nick: I’d feel better if it wasn’t sooner.
Ana: Water.

Nick pours water into a cup, with magic it steams in her hands before laying again.

Varin and Bella ride thru the open gates passed sleeping guard and passes by Merlin and his family without knowing, stopping at the alehouse.

Kylesa sleeps with Troy to wake and put oil on his lips and leaves silently. She sees a silhouette recognizable, soon finding Sino in an alley and attacks him, he pins her against the wall and releases her.

Sino: You’ve been dosing him?
Kylesa: Of course, he’ll be angrier than a cat with a sore tail soon. Almost as angry as someone else.
Sino: Yes, who?
Kylesa: Me.

She points her dagger at his heart, first to his resistance, then to his relent, they enjoy each other in their privacy.

interferencía multitrayecto, distorsión retraso

Runrunes on Twitter: "Leopoldo López sentenciado a 13 años y 9 meses de prisión. Medida cautelar para estudiantes - http://t.co/JW9mfVuDUH http://t.co/UJe0zKraBs"

Leopoldo López sentenciado a 13 años y 9 meses de prisión. Medida cautelar para estudiantes - http://t.co/JW9mfVuDUH pic.twitter.com/UJe0zKraBs

— Runrunes (@RunRunesWeb) September 11, 2015

«...Sucedio, pues, que, como el amor en los moços por la mayor parte no lo es, sino apetito, el qual, como tiene por vltimo fin el deleyte, en llegando a alcançarle se acaba, y ha de boluer atras aquello que parecia amor, porque no puede passar adelante del termino que le puso naturaleza, el qual termino no le puso a lo que es verdadero amor...»  ~~ Cardenio
 ~ TERCERA PARTE
~ CAPITVLO XXIV
~ DON QVIXOTE DE LA MANCHA 

Merlin 3:51 Tripartite

Merlin 3:51 "Tripartite"


A camp in the woods of elves tall and pale, the forest stretches and the nearest village hides in the trees at the base of a distant mountain. The moon of Midgard shares the sky Nivlheim and the days become confused and light for only pairs of hours, dark then light then dark again, until joined by the moon of Alfheim, once every twelve years, where the sun disappears and the moonlight matches dusk for 13 days. The trinity lunar event reflects most onto the elven west and they call this time, the fire of night. They use this time to purge those monstrous beasts born of darkness that which do not go willingly without brute force.

Elven hes and shes, sharpening arrowheads and tying fletches, pelt pouches hang on lines being filled with arrows as kettles warm on small fires to melt the pitch that coats each sharpened point, and movement by all with industry.

A fallen tree shaven to a table and a warrior dwarf wearing twenty blades, two hatchets, and an ax, making flutes and runes and supper tools of spare bones, brushes his finished trinkets into a bag to keep working as an elf brings new bones. He watches them work, he watches the mountain ridge for a third moon to rise, he watches his stewpot.

Their leader and magistrate, Völund, warden of the central province of Landedge in the western elf realm stares at the grassland watching an empty flat-wagon approach.

Trohoc: You know, I wouldn’t call you younger in front of the team, but if you let that wagon get much closer without slowing I might have to mention it.
Völund: Our informant.
Trohoc: Which?
Völund: The poisoner with the wrinkled hair, they’ll see us from their distance by a count of 200.
Trohoc: Should we meet them?
Völund: No, they’re tattered, but alert everyone just in case, and hide that damn dwarf.
Trohoc: You always did have better eyes.

He leaves the king to watch of has passed to be their present tense, the unadulterated memories of their past haunts them. The horse is young and hungry, almost stopping at occasion to eat grass and walk whenever a wagon wheel meets difficulty rolling over clump of grass or rabbit hole. Belladonna’s clothes are burnt, torn, muddied, singed, and disheveled, much as her arms and face, all minor scrapes compared to her brother who has a splinted leg, a crutch, and bandaged head and hands, one eye bruised by several days past, she sees their camp and warns him to endure strongly as they make desperately for the encampment.

Völund: Rangers, meet our new arrivals.

The soldiers among them run on foot to her, she sighs relief at their distant sighting and relaxes in the wagon letting the horse feed.

Bella: Goodness we need help!
Trohoc: Dismount the wagon.
Bella: Neither of us can walk.
Jimson(Jim): I won’t be moving. Are we in the elven?
Trohoc: What’s in the box?
Jim: You really don’t want to know.
Bella: We see Völund of Landedge, he will vouchsafe as artifice. We are nightshades of his employ.
Trohoc: Open it.
Bella: You won’t like what’s in it.
Jim: Careful.

An elf opens it. The disagreeable frown pallid and unsavory.

Flena: Fucking witches.
Trohoc: What?
Flena: Why do witches need a head, today, pray tell?
Bella: It’s to finish what we’ve started. Will you send word to Völund or not? Time does not heal, all wounds!

Trohoc looks to Völund who nods his head from 1000 yards and they proceed leading. Flena whispers to Völund.

Bella: Völund! Völund thank the nine worlds, marshal in the right and just! You have to let them help him!

Another nod and they rush to help Jimson.

Bella: You are wise in years and time, thank you.
Völund: What news for your aid? And why the head?
Bella: (hugging him at first) …the arbitress witch only wanted the vampire castle Vermillion the whole time, blood magic lifting an army to strength unnatural, falling in the sortie she retained her magic shared and pressed into the mountain, only to lose to a necromancer, and with her death the anchor on my brother’s heart was pulled under stirring seas of salted blood. The witches are three –
Völund: - and one carrying -
Bella: In hope they share their magic as by minions, I’ll see if the head can give my brother his stolen manna.
Völund: And the newcomer Merlin, what of him?
Bella: With castle Vermillion it seems, and a girl, pregnant as that mothering of the three Norns.
Völund: How pregnant?
Bella: Short of a moon, mayhaps two.
Völund: The plague carrying Sino then….?
Bella: Sino and this Merlin fellow seem to, not, be on good terms, despite the company of the bloodthirsty.
Völund: Food and wine.
Bella: Tell-Odin, yes.
Völund: I wasn’t asking I was telling.
Bella: There I have seen and couldn’t possibly imagine much but disjointed faction the blood driven.
Völund: We will sit as you describe every second of your days, and when your brother is well you will spy on Merlin.
Bella: (famished eating) Why Merlin?
Völund: I have a Halfling here that says his comrades of ill manners and disrespect for Midgard law know them both.
Bella: What kind of Halfling?
Varin [Halfling]: Mother human, father elf.
Völund: You will ride together and my hunters will follow unseen if possible. They will find and cut the largest root of the problem, of my woes with these arbiter witches and warlocks.
Bella: But why, my lord Völund?
Völund: The secrets of the dead are better put in pages than in dark hearts. Now shut your mouth and eat.
Varin: And if that root is Braden?
Völund: Embracing your truest heritage hath that answer wit, to now, doth wait in due time, and if he is the devil then bring me his head, for my now unnecessarily growing collection. I bet we can fix that wagon, bring me that damnedest stoutly dwarf!
Bella: There’s a dwarf?
Varin: Yes.
Bella: A real one?

The stitching of a nearby surgery causes Jimson to scream through his teeth and the branch between them.

Völund: Anything else to share?
Bella: Why the hunting party?
Völund: The red auroch and bison are stomping thru the trees, this is a culling, this is the fire of night. What you find, the Halfling will hunt, your brother will mend here without you both.
Bella: Why that is absurd, for what purpose?
Völund: That a battered man doesn’t wander the streets looking for trouble like a bleeding worm in a chicken coup. I callous hands and you question me?
Trohoc: Presence more so than their question, and to commence loquacious bellicosity.
Völund: I suppose.
Bella: What is he hunting?
Völund: A demon’s witch of a distant world.
Bella: And what when we find it?
Varin: If you’re intelligent, just a view, and if I view her, hopefully something smart.

Jimson pains again.

/ch