6CH O-tu Bezhun

6CH 2018-06-21 O-tu Bezhun

1 Dwindling Sparks, 2 The Wild Boyfriend, 3 Shadow of Slaves, 4 The Pirate’s Gift, 5 The Game of the Tears, 6 Snow in the Eye....

1. Dwindling Sparks
The day is dark and by fire the sun sets across horizon that stares will see the black circle crawl into the earth from the blood sky, night becomes stars and in mix of fog and smoke the stars flicker, painted in mist and ashes for war the young young enter the city, eyes in the night they wait till each fire is embers and remove the lights of soldiers, the city is dark, the sound of pouring liquids into the dirt.

2. The Wild Prince
A knife falls on stone at the edge of the city, and the prince awakens with dread as alarm, he knows every turn in darkness and slays the attackers as they meet, he speaks to his men and tells them to secure the walls and work their way in, he fights many and is forced to retreat, into the secret hallways of where he was born, the centurions secure the wall by ending the invasion’s escape method and reinforcements, soldiers with torches work toward the city center, reinforced by numbers gathering from the walls, the black prince fights an equal, the red prince from beyond the wall,

3. Shadow of Slaves
The soldiers gather and the torch light warms the air and casts echoing shadows on the floor, the red prince accuses him of weakness for not seeking a war with the red, and of laziness for not farming with the farmers, the black prince lists the battles he’s fought defending the farms from him, “i’ve never heard of you until you began poaching liives, why would I strike at the night shadow?” - the red soldiers attack to save their leader, but are stopped as the princes fight again, the prince disarms the invader by wounding him, and offers to fight him hand to hand, or he may kneel and be executed, they choose gladly fight, their words are equal, their skills are not as the dark prince toys with him to get him to speak, but also ends him quickly.

4. The Pirate’s Gift
The prince looks at his enemies, markings all similar except for the invader prince’s tattoos has one different, he takes the invader’s sword, spending the end of the night looking thru the old books for pictures, the invader’s tattoo he guesses is a rank, and that symbol a type of pirate, but the sword has symbols of distinction only found in one book, of the old evils

5. The Game of the Tears
The prince makes amends spiritually by burying his dead, and farming with his people, a remorse matched by his regrets, only to be confronted by invaders in daylight, with an orange hostage, they make the hostage cry, they make the prince cry as he begs for peace and meeting of their leader, they set the hostage on brandy fire, the hostage tears sparkle with magic, the summer farmland grows cold as winter, a demon speaks from the body of the hostage-unburned, perhaps someone the prince knew, “you’ve taken my pet, you are the warden of a crippled age, this macabre prehistory and the demons that could be, awake in you” - prince “you stay for your death”

6. Snow in the Eye
“I welcome death in all forms,” calmly - their battle is set, “we share a heart, now we share a loss.” the demon waves hand and a viewer is frozen by leg and falls, the ground making them solid, the prince cannot wait for survival and attacks, the battle begins, the demon blocks sword with arm, and pummels the prince tossing him with battery, so the prince swings harder, but the demon is so frozen that the sword only pierces the skin of the demon in human host, with this seen and dissuasive the prince finds benefit in turning momentum against the demon, the demon does not wildly swing-about, for cold winter is slow and deadly, and magic breath of winter snow blinds the prince, a move apart, behind cart the prince finds axe, the confidence cuts the ice breath, and the axe cuts hard deeper, the prince spins about-himself on a foot and lands whole axehead into leg, the demon cripples to almost a kneel, with the prince’s own foot for leverage pries the axe away and spins again with a scream, the demon blocks the full-sped axe in air at his chest, losing the icy fingers on that hand, the demon howls as ice shatters, the prince thrown into the cart, now a hand-axe he climbs into the demon’s arms and hacks into face and throat and chest, the last to find a heart of glowing blue diamond, both are screaming, soldiers returning with torches and oil-soaked arrows, the prince chops the heart and hurts his hands it cannot be cleft, so he pulls the heart out with his hands, it is ice too cold to touch and throws the heart into the distance, the winter falls like a single blanket of rain

The soldiers check black prince and cheer victory, they burn the demon on the spot, the ice heart gives a single beat and becomes dark, obsidian/coal, the fire stops, the blue moon rises, the eyes glow again

/stop

Cryomancer
or,
The Demon
O-tu Bezhun (Cold Eye)













~ mjbanks

Sixy (Soul Embraced)

Sixy (Soul Embraced)
m.j.banks

What I've been doing is going to a title generator site and getting six random titles, then using them as chapters of a short story, making a draft, giving it a title myself, then abandoning it in my drafts folder. Typically I let the story replicate the titles' implications and write it start to finish, some adjustments. Let's do that.

Give me some titles..... wow, okay...

1 Sharp Dreams, 2 The Laffing Memory, 3 Stream of Sword, 4 The Time's Voyage, 5 The Stones of the Flying, 6 Sword in the Dreams

Some regret for committing to this, but whatever. It did print "laughing," no need to spell it with the wrong letters. The goal is be germane and on second draft make each chapter a page, long enuf to read, short enuf to finish. I'm going to make it extra short and then sleep.

Q music.

1 Sharp Dreams

Man walks in field, but it's a dream, wakes during attack, but their numbers are too small, spy makes it into his tent, stabs with a magic blade that puts him into a coma, a nightmare to him, his first battle and none of his experience, or armor, more difficult than memory,

2 The Laffing Memory

With the awake, the invaders attack, but only the outskirts and only to irritate, attrition, psychological, sending requests for impossible demands, coupled with the coma of the man, they are depressed, the coma-assassin comes back with the poisoned knife and the blood on it, giving it to a warlock, aftereffect of magic done on the nightmare blade, yes I fit this into a ton of my stories, not so much the star this time, a moment for the affect and glow of the evil foe

3 Stream of the Sword

Warlock takes the nightmare blade, drops the blood onto his sword on tented altar, short like a footstool, itself curved in a shinto-like fashion, let's just go with samurai warlock and likewise ceremony, attire, colors, red and black only, clothing, tactical, the blade glows a hue and color that fires can have, his complexion darkens away from light, radiating only the energy weapon, not a fire/light saber, just a vibration or energy signature, blue steel*, the assassin sees in its reflection the room slide from right to left, but the warlock sees no reflection, but a window into the soul of the man in a coma, and for whatever reason, stabs the assassin in the chest, while the warlock kneels over the dead assassin, his eyes burn with the same fire as prior, yet in the dream world, the warlock manifests astral (projection) w the assassin's body

4 The Time's Voyage

Warlock gets to see a time before the countryside was different, ravaged less, brighter more, still the ongoing conflict, still a spy, can see the coma dude's side, but not his own, because the memory of the comatose, learning the terrain of their encampment, finding people dressing as spy's against the warlock's side, sees someone rush into the scene, hears them tell about their enemy has found a warlock to their side, a nod to himself, a vision of the next chapter, approach the younger coma dude, but coma dude starts into fear and chaos, starts to recognize the assassin, launches into a fight with the warlock in assassin skin, but it's a dream, and yet the assassin's soul carries the nightmare blade, coma dude in the real world is part physicality and all stress asleep, so in the dreamworld he's sortof fading, insight being that weak tether to the dreamworld makes the dreamer's ability stronger, idk, and wrests the nightmare blade from the foe/villain, stabs him and the blade's magic shows a light, extremely overwhelming to the dream dimension, everyone is thrown from the dreamworld, the warlock opens his black blood eyes, turns the blade into the assassin's body to end him, agony, certainty's gaze

5 Stones of the Flying

maybe it's, ok right, the warlock goes on warpath, the stones are explosive and send people flying or he throws stones that go 'flying thru the air' and when they land, the stones swallow the souls of opponents, how many of those does he have, he knows is way thru, maybe stones help people fly and there's an aerial battle, final fantasy fanfix way, or the longest to write, dragons controlled by stones, or people controlled with stones against their will, with a backstory on controlling power anchored earlier, not important, but he knows the layout and where the secret lair is and heads right for their leader, woke coma guy ha

6 Sword in the Dreams

speaking of backplants, he sees the warlock and recognizes him, guy gets the upperhand against the warlock, but the warlock traps him, the guy snatches the nightmare blade, in his hand it's bright and blinding to stare-at, warlock starts losing, tries to leave, the stones work against him when guy has the knife, tons of interstitial dialogue i imagine to what extent im not really sure, the blade draws blood, the warlock's wounds bleed black, but each stab shines with bright darkness as the warlock screams the coma guy can read the warlock's mind, a vision cascade of who hired the warlock, to surprise its someone he trust, and that there are spies within, all sorts of bad news, the warlock dies with cut throat with quick delivery, the coma doesn't waste time, he's got enemies w/in ukno, is there a twist, hell yes there's a twist, the assassin that the warlock had killed, groans and moans, struggles to reach into the muddy tent earth, ahead of himself pulls himself toward the warlock's sword, struggling toward the low altar of the blade, toppling it cuts his fingers around it, the assassins eyes grow black, the blade glows the same color, the assassin starts to stand, and drinks the same specific mixture of tea the warlock had drank, two of this, three of that, one of these, stir counter-clockwise


/////////

I've 16 of these now, oh right the title. Thinks. Open to suggestions. Looks at phone.

'Soul Embraced'

Thanks for reading.

m.j.banks

Geni Vas Laco

At the sunset the horizon fills the sky, for the tides of thought are the breaking waves together and many, I dance in the center of light and feel pulled in all directions from the truth of all wisdom toward the hearts of infinite desires.

Our hopes are the tide of wit and joy tearing apart mountains of aged certainty and despots of our time, unable to bridge the lights of the dimensions with gateways of minds or echoes of truths, as are gone from the timeline of infinite loss, unable to remember what has been taken because it is not a memory of action, but yet a charge against our willpower mercy and tireless fight amongst the warmth of others.

It isn't known if this the vanishing truth is the only one, or the fading darkness is the custom or the cost, without knowing if circumstances are predictable in the shadow of itself or the causality of usual things, trusting with the fear of a young soul that it had not happened in waking dreams.

Riots of rebellion in questioning existence or garnering favor all in the existential questions, demanding more from the fountain of youth and staring at the stars, to where it is now another reflection, from this side of the dark mirror, of the living infinite, and the terrible question.

The negative space unbearably wasted, the impenetrable unknown that wanes with the loss of so many, that waxes with the ignorance that comes with incapable excuses at this egregious moment, in the world of the living, where now they bow to matters that must not take any reality for granted, to honor those that traveled on the surface of time and lived with infinite balance.

"Too much sanity may be madness and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be."
~ Miguel de Cervantes

Merlin 3:60 Jaded

M.3.60:Jaded

Heavy wind blocks light and carries dark rain, a vampire who desires to taste the knowledge of werewolf blood’s scent in air finding fire and the dead enter the room. Sino wraps his arm around the first’s chest and punches its back, the blades on his glove sever spinal neck.

Vampire 2 (Rufus): You shouldn’t have done that.
Sino: Tell me why as I spool your forked tongue.

The dead one rises.

Vampire 1 (Aetius): Because now it’s your turn.

Sino tears a sautoir locket from his neck and glows from his hand, a jade light from the jade stone given to him by Belladonna, the vampires begin to cringe and curl as their dead hearts begin coursing ages of infectious blood thru veins craving only that of mortal sacrifice, tirelessness becomes tithe to warlock.

Sino: Playtime is over, time to die.

A painted vision of punishment and pallid expression on canvas of disparate stare with rage of concept, black veins in eyes and clenching form, fighting to stand against deepest imagined pain in curse and chaos, glom of darkness within the loss of control.

The rain begins terrible sounds as each drop against the earth violently tears against the air without a sound to the hexer. Because of his own rage, Sino cannot notice that his aggression is being watched by Ana from careful distance. At the corner of her eye she sees the consortium of mages and pack of wolves separately decide next tasks, having already helped the aviators with their problem of lingering evil, but also sees Kylesa-Mara relieved to see Sino thru framework flames of burning building survive the attack.

Hereto Sino notices Ana by peripheral vision as the hexed vampires collapse shattered and exhausted, and in this dark awakening he understands he has been seen and leaps disappearing into fire, knowing this, Mara distracts Troy for Sino’s sake.

Mara: What is happening? My heart, it burns, there is a burning in my lungs, I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe!

Troy attends to her and Sino flanks Ana in speed and silence, taking her before she can signal anyone. The disgust and indignation expression, as Ana begins to flame from hair and hands, results with Sino smashing her head into a wall.

Sino: Firefly.

But for the face of fear, he enjoys catching, binding, and lifting her into a wagon hurriedly that he might escape by horse all the sooner.

The interminable ardor of war restricts the perceivable, and unknown is spectacle and context of rain has burning buildings rumbling, splendor and circumstance of people in commotion, the noises of confusion and dour itself. Merlin, seeing Lilith, stares rakish with maudlin.

M359: The Serpent Servant

M359: The Serpent Servant

Kylesa hurries herself into a building and urges the scared languescents to exit while there is vacant opportunity to flee and before the undead swarm them, they languidly leave their confines following to sudden swarm and are overcome. Sino watches Troy use his surroundings in leverage and springs from impossible distance swift and flighty, comparative to fain glory and realization commemorate, he sees Troy’s magic and gives himself into thought.

A powerless rise for any mischievant, doted by the soulless wanderers staring on Lilith in her glory, wandering malaisant extático and like them hoping the next hexed she seeks presents itself to its execution.

The phoenix begins to nest as saturnine in slumber while the bodies continue mounting consumed by walking into scoria and becoming ashes. In arginine ash it cools and continues to tire, the roaming shells of lives fuel an onset regeneration dilemmatic, Merlin shouts to Troy thereto the leaping rider startles phoenix into motion and thereof depart leaving Merlin at a defenseless start against urgent horde.

Several lengths of distance separated, Merlin enters the street facing Sino, as buildings burn do others cinder by the waves, of twilight approaching do walls buckle as embers rumble do crematories crumble, by a tufted billow of black smoke Sino disappears. In a ginnel passage, Sino finds two things, an exit and Ophiuchus drinking blood with a gaze and from a neck that are broken, silently standing drops the body and approaches him.

Oph: Nothing has changed, master Sino.

Sino pushes his hand to his chest and him to the wall.

Sino: Remember that.

Oph shakes him loose and walks onto the chaos. Sino places his hand on a corner beam of a building and closes his eyes, he lifts his hand and departs a glowing handprint, steadily the glow becomes a fire. r

The rain keeps the fire from leaping to and between rooftops, but there is a subtle resonance to the embers of remaining fires. Dour muddied vampires find Mara in the street, watching her walk backwards from the onslaught of infected, ignorant to her guise they pause as she flees.

Werewolves rush toward the vampires only to search thru the bodies and fell the infected, they turn quickly toward the vampires, readily armed to defend themselves but slowly exiting they point to where Mara has run.

Troy: Werewolves, what do they want?
Kylesa: Let’s not soon learn how so.

They aim arrows at wolves climbing walls, but there are others whom attack before arrows fly. They have leapt and pinned both Troy and Kylesa to the rooftop, learning their scent.

Lupirion: Stay still.
Canaris: This smells of Sino – get tell the huntress!
Troy: Had we, just, a tale of conflict.
Canaris: Simple boy

A short laugh, smells again, she trembles.

Canaris: This is not the stench of conflict. Go!

Berserkers depart. Sincerely she screams.

Multifarious contempt for decency, Sino continues collapsing buildings with rage and fire, over and thru flames of walls and rising ruble, trapping Merlin into an arena enclosed with the serpent servant.

Ophiuchus, flippant by hunger of vengeance only looks forward, Merlin steps behind him, his raised hand near the villain’s shoulder begins to glow, by the time Oph turns, noticing the light, Merlin triggers a large explosion of blue fire, harmless to himself, yet throwing Oph many measures.

Oph stands with esoteric time enough to be without words. The hole in his leather almost as wide as his back he discards his vestments of robe and jacket, his skin sheds slightly over the burn, the body long possessed slumped and lethargic is now mightily robust, muscles of rage and carrying the tempo of a steady heartbeat in his veins occasionally, a snake swims under his skin, as the snake passes under the back the skin heals. His eyes roll into his head.

Oph: This doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of my power.
M: Not your usual self?
Oph: Yes, waste your time –

Sino spying the battle decides to leave at first sight of conflict, one of the wolfmen running pushes him over a walkway thru a ceiling into a burning building.

Angered into alertness, Sino cracks his knuckles with fists and begins punching one as more crawl for entry. Three against one in close burning quarters, he hits each opponent with swift force, missing a swing he is hit twice before regaining defense before renewed attack, each strike missed he is struck twice over the same. His attack skill is double two of theirs, but his defense is the same as each by scale of one. His dexterity is less than theirs as they ascertain his stamina and begin to gnarl him, as they must face a black flame magic from his blood there is an evolving rage of fire and beast.

M: What hast Sino durst to thee to make my opponent?
Oph: Much that I must, little that I dare.
M: I’m sorry, but people change.
Oph: You don’t recognize me?
M: Should I?
Oph: You know me. I first took a boy to such not only did you steal my lunch, but you twisted me in the wind and left me in a road wrought of my essence.

Merlin’s face loosens to ponder, his head tilts to memory, of trees and winds of distant clouds.

Oph: Shedding skin having hunted you in a city with a disturbing amount of twins, I sought revenge, not supper, you then chopped me with a scabbard blade, almost killing me. Do you remember it?

A memory of soldiers and gallows of dusty roads.

M: You!? Perhaps I should burn you out!
Oph: You dare!

Sino fights the last of aggrieved three, despite bleeding arms and neck. But for battered across midsection, screaming with every shock by the time, he overcomes the final werewolf. The wolves’ hearts outward tears he while almost laughing. Squeezing the blood from a werewolf heart over his head and face he hears shouting from beyond the burning room.

Oph: Fallen, devoted, devour the burning world!

The dead that have risen focus on Merlin, in a gust of wind the proxy of foes tumble and theretofore the ghouls upon him, his hands glow and electricity leaps between his fingers and with their skulls in his hands.

Ophiuchus gradually steps rarely blinking. His host’s eyes are dullening and dry, sullen and red around edges, his tongue flickers mindless with each thought. The dead risen rise yet again, from floors they are bloody, from rubble they are dusty, from fire they are burning, walking toward Merlin who strikes them with his magic. They amass as he swings chairs, commotion brings him to hold a table top as shield only to kick it against a grouping of swarthy several and a bygone burner bashing a bottle of booze to burn them all and raise the acrid flames toward the gods. Forcedly, he jumps thru flames landing to surprise of a knife wound to arm from foe. He sends Ophiuchus to the wall with wind and rescinds the penetration.

The mist becomes light rain pouring enough cloud-cover to allow unnerving twilight.

Oph: I grow tired. Do you feel like dying quickly, Merlin, or should I torture you first?
M: I do appreciate such good timing. It’s good to have choices.
Oph: I think we all do.

Agnar, who some would say is twice the size of Ophiuchus’ host, picks him upward and throws him outward, but he will not be thrown easily, grasping at the sleeves he falls into the base of a wall that buckles, the fire has taken its roof and the rain taken the flames, but the center is a furnace. Ophiuchus digs feet running into the wall’s main beam making it topple onto Agnar. As he avoids fire flourishing and more of the insatiable dead, Agnar pulls himself from the rubble.

Agnar: Clip his wings!

Merlin attacks before the dead find him, thirteen exchanged punches and Merlin breaks Ophiuchus’ hand, he sets the bones and continues fighting.

M: Let’s break something else.

A hammering swing of anger starts eleven more and breaks the same arm, the limb straightens with his sign of pain.

Oph: Why are you so difficult!?

Seven more and he breaks the other arm, but Ophiuchus continues fighting, lame swings and shoving, a head-butt to weak effect.

M: Now I see your final moments.
Oph: I’m slowing you down, right where I want you, give up while you can.

Five absurd swings and he wrenches his foe’s shoulder.

M: What good would come in efforts just.

Three terrible struggles and Merlin kicks the knee to buckle bringing Oph to the ground.

Oph: This isn’t over.
M: Yes, it is… …into the moonlight.

Merlin snaps Ophiuchus’ neck, his body falls surfeit.

Agnar unburies himself by throwing the stones of the wall at the undead, Jonak arrives and cuts his own hand with a knife and speaks a terrible sound.

Jo: Give your hearts to me.

The undead begin tearing out their hearts and offering them to Jonak as they fall around them with black and blood hearts rolling. As Merlin attends to Agnar, Belladonna walks with pestilential fog beside her, she sees the snake master slither from the mouth of the body, to stop it she creates walls of fog to confine its direction. The smoke pains the snake and it moves faster until at the feet of Lilith who takes it between her claws.

Lilith: All this from a familiar…

She examines it squirming, biting her to no affect.

Lilith: I hope it was worth it.

She tilts her head and eats the snake, her eyes begin to close and she moans with a hundred voices, her eyes roll white as the ground and nearby buildings shake.

Lilith: Bittersweet.

Hero's Eye

You might list a dozen more steps before you finish the laundry and move on to the second chore on your original list. If you had to consider every small, low-level detail of every task in your day, you would probably never make it out of bed in the morning. Using a higher-level, more abstract list makes your day manageable. Abstraction makes complex tasks look simple.

Now that I have your attention I want to write-on-record. Let's look at this like a problem, just in case there are a few suicidal punk bitches still out there. Unfortunately, I only know what I know, and that often doesn't grasp with reality and certainly is at war with populism, I'll explain soon enough if that was a cliffhanger thought.

When I looked at the numbers of suicides in the military, I was stupefied, questioning my faith, if this is you, I don't mean to be condescending, frankly these are the people supposed to defend us, and for some reason they cannot save themselves, for matters of legality regarding libel, we can say their resolve has dissolved. The numbers of the dissolved are at record highs, for this I, a (lifelong) fiction hobbyist, considered that account of them had merely slipped into the field of espionage and taken new soluble identities, but for the numbers this couldn't be completely true. In my interests, anything possible, I even minimized it, considered 'it is only them and not me' and likely am in the hereafter. Theoretically, I could blame anything plausible and almost anything assumable, that state of nature to the nature of the state, it's a long list.

I like fiction, but we need an actual event to make the leap of faith, then we can continue. It is important to realize, there are people in our time that strap explosives to themselves and then explode, we call those people inbreds. They are following an unspoken code of honor held amongst old thieves and newborns, if you can't handle it yourself, don't ask for favors to get it done. What these people don't realize is soldiery and police are a piece of any family and the ones we have are just that, merely for a bigger family. Corruption is a poisonous specter, an enemy of mortality, like any other a view in depth at this is my point.

I've said before that enrollment practices could be improved if recruiters would play movies about demolition engineering and talk about the shooting range, they make a lot of promises and the shared understanding of threat goes largely unspoken. If killing isn't your business, then economics is your game, because it's a supply and demand game. There are people who commit military abandonment, I'd like you didn't do that, but being in a distinguished military you came from a successful country and you'll make some good babies and teach some good lessons, in some remote impoverished corner of the world. In my own ordinary way I briefly denied it was true, I imagined that it was a way for anarchists and speechifiers to discredit the service altogether, but then I realized they can stop enlistment. 

That only leaves one scenario that fiction embraces well but to be curt isn't easy and is written using universe. There has been a death in combat, enemy or ally, that has happened, and what we call grief floods our vision. That, coupled with all the formative concerns a fighter thinks, becomes a problem and instead of letting it go, they feel that the person is dead, that time should erase the dead. To remove them from ever existing, in regards to never becoming an enemy, to never adding a kill to a list, to never putting a human weapon so far from the west. It begins to pile, and when it shits is rains.


Often is the case that when the spies and spooks snap and commit treason, their minds are filled with thoughts of what they want, basically that they keep hoping for fantasies until they betray the groundwork. So I offer you this advice: don't imagine those who you have left or lost or laid to rest have something better, for they have gone from this place, imagine them in heaven (or hell) as if they had not made the bad choices that took them. All bad places are roaming prisons, and any place can get bad real fast. The trauma afterward supposedly can be terrible, and some can't make it on the outside either, your dreams should be what you miss the most, this is true for everyone. Imagine something that has no choice, when we dream it is no different, a beautiful lady can't resist you because you're broke, or a steamy dude dream, it's a different age.

In any case, don't imagine what you think someone else needs to make it through the night, or you might miss them and what prop item you gave them in your nightmare; think of what you want for yourself after this and think on it; I always think about the one food that I miss the most, that I'm going to eat when I get home.



~