anarchy distilledshe wakes
She wakes in the night, the dark fur cloak wrapped round her subsiding to the forest floor as the sounds of the living night crack her consciousness apart. Images of the last few nights strike her mind like lightning, yet vanishing nearly immediately afterward, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Somewhere in the wilderness, there's a river, and as it tumbles over rocks and cliffs, it breaks the permanent silence of the forest with a rippling sound. She's utterly amazed how acutely her sense of hearing registers the sound, no matter how far it is.
It doesn't mean a thing, last night. It doesn't mean a thing, the blood on her knife, and the monster whose blood it is. It doesn't mean a thing what harm he could have caused her because he's dead
and she is safe. This was no man, it was a monster and he could have harmed others even after her. She defended herself, and those others. So he died.
She falls into the embrace of the forest around
SaorsaYou can't trick the children
of the revolution.
You cannot deny them
their birthright so dear.
You cannot revoke now
this promise of freedom
Or make us naive
Your empire's falling, and you
should admit it.
A million point six
are now waiting to LIVE.
Yeah, LIVE, that's right,
and not just survive life
and tolerate - barely -
what we get from you.
and a spirit so proud
We've no swords, and no guns,
but you'd better know:
the battle might be yours,
the war will be ours,
the only thing "great"
is your glorious fall.
LoveI don't even know how to put this.
Some people might think me stupid, or naive
Speaking to a construct more social than real.
It's like you're a drug, that strays me to actions
I would not consider, actions plainly surreal.
It's like you're a ghost that shields me from harm
And, with the lightest touch, you guide my arm.
I don't even know how to put this,
But your love, it fills me with such bliss.
Your love is vast, vast like the ocean,
Although often stormy, freezing and harsh.
Like a goddess, you summon endless devotion,
Requite all affections, return all your gifts.
And when I walk down the streets of this city,
Breathe this free air, and suffer nobody's pity
And when everything, from the birds to the worms
The land and the sky, the hills and the cairns
Speaks my language - that's when I know.
Lietuva, myliu tave.
Revolution RouletteIt was at the ruined city of Cír Delainn that she finally found us.
She had been lying in wait for us at the old fort of Dhennilan, which once marked the border between the lands of the Dhenniforghian and the Dwoyaran peoples; but we, like shadows, eluded her that night, and surged on westward to the banks of that mighty river, the Dwoyara. We hoped that its waters would grant us passage to the north, to Dwoyr and to Nornlihk, where we could find refuge in the minds of the many ill souls that dwell in those vast cities. We needed new bodies to make her lose our trail, new hosts, for she knew the identities we had assumed and she knew where our paths led. Regardless, when we reached Cír Delainn, we foolishly thought that we had evaded her. It was there in that ancient ruin on the Dwoyara's bank that we fed our bodies berries and mushrooms, and drank the water the river gave us. We thought that we could still yet escape. That we still had a chance.
It was then that the storm ca
BreatheI know little.
I own even less.
I am free like no one else.
There was a sort of sobriety among the trainees on that summer night; it had just rained, and there was that morning-like feeling of briskness and new life in the air, even though the sun had long disappeared beyond the hilly western horizon. Before the initiation, they said their prayers, the words seemingly much more somber and dark than ever before, in their secluded rooms with only Alyavarra the Mother-Goddess listening in. It was this morning that they left their past lives, and wasted names, and lost destinies behind, walking onward down a new path, a path they had drawn without doubt, with a cool certainty in their hearts and minds.
They all dressed in the plainest way they could, and Kara was no exception, putting on a tunic as black as the night sky. Her long raven hair she spun into a tight braid and she took out her earrings, tossing them absentm
LiesYou don't know, at all, what I am feeling.
And don't understand my outrage and fear.
There is no such truth I haven't yet stated
That you could believe in, do I not speak clear?
There is no deception, no lie, no more anger
That I will yet take from others than me.
I’m done scraping, bowing, pretending to listen
My truth and my fury are greater than fear.
At this point in time, I have no more terror
In my heart, which burns with a fire so strong.
I call out for things that I still believe in:
I call for our freedom, and justice, and love.
I do not believe in what you are saying.
Not one word. Not one word at all.
I only believe in you having bought it –
A lie, greater than even your fall.
Rock, Paper, ScissorsTypically, the Nindortharn pass in northern Thaesteria was anything but a quiet pass. Typically, every lovely morning, dozens of people trekked down this road by the river Algorich, making their way beyond the Valley of Nindor and on to the Thaesterian lowlands. This was a relatively notable trade artery that axed through the valley, nudging the only local major city of Nindorlach and pressing on northeastward into the wastelands. Merchants who sought to set up trade relations with the northerners and the orcs (although a common joke in the Nindor said there was really no difference) often took this path to avoid gnome country and the resultant cross-border taxation.
Tonight wasn’t quiet, yes, but it wasn’t typical, either. Lightning slashed the sky and the water of the river Algorich tumultuously whirled round and round – up, up and out of the actual riverbed. This resultant column of water then swung round, aiming for the head of an unfortunate individual not too fa
FreedomIt isn't in you, nor any like you
To freeze rivers in middle of spring.
It's destined for you, in fire so true
To perish and rise not anew.
No man on earth, no dictator meek
Can defeat a people in need
Of freedom! Of justice! I see now how weak
Is your challenge, your fear - we won't heed!
The tide will be turning, and all will yet change
No matter how many you bring
No matter the soldiers that march in to face us
We always, always shall win
For horrors, for fire baptizes our struggle
And anger is driving us all
For no lying bastard will take back our freedom
Our rage is the highest of walls
It isn't for you, not for any false hero
To betray and thieve and to lie
It isn't in you to close down our river
Of blood that shines golden and blue!
AnathainThere's only a single night in the Westlander year during which you might see elvenfolk drinking in public, and that would be Anathain, Midsummer's Eve, the Night of a Thousand Lights. Otherwise, it's sort of a national tradition, both among wood elves and western elves, the only two sorts of elf usually known to Westlanders, to hide your liquor from mankind, stash it somewhere dark, cold and frightful, and, if all else fails, make it invisible with magic and curses, only to visit your beloved bottle of brandy every Friday only to open it with more affection than you usually give a spouse. Of course, that's a stereotype, Riandh remarked mentally, as he downed another pint of ale. He personally knew many, many elves who loved drinking – be it in private or otherwise – himself among them. But on Anathain, on Anathain elvenkind and alcohol would gain an entirely new dimension to their relationship.
Oh, Anathain, beautiful jewel in the summer's crown. Every single celebra
A Mother's Love: 1
In a cave in the northern regions of Sthreldrum, a drakenum, in her human form, slumped to her knees before the blood-drenched nest of clothes where her hatchlings once rested. They were her babies. Her darlings that she brought into the world through a father that had been slain by a dragon-slayer weeks back. She had not expected for a creature to get past her obstacles in the front of the cave to come in and slaughter them. No bodies were there and by the horrid scent, she knew it was a basilisk that had devoured her hatchlings.
Her long, snow-white hair draped in front of her chest and covered most of her reddened eyes. Tears slid down her brown-skinned cheeks from her blue eyes with no pupils within. She couldn’t even make a sound at the moment as her gaze remained on the blood. She could smell her babies. It made her gut clench and eventually her breathing became rapid. Consumed in sorrow, she remained like a statue on the flo
THE THINGS WE GAIN (CHAPTER 4)CHAPTER 4
Mikey closed his eyes as he slipped the noise canceling headphones over his ears. Everything was going great. He’d let himself into the studio and had immediately gone to see if anyone had donated any money while he'd been away. Last night he'd thought a head, placing a small jar under the mail slow so any coins that were dropped in would not roll away and miss being collected. his faint smile had become a wide grin when he'd found that the jar was half full; and after pouring out the money and counting it his smile had become even wider when he'd found that he's raised almost $200 since taking over the station 3 days ago.
Taking a deep breath Mikey watched for the equipment in the booth to finish warming up before starting; pressing the green button to start the broadcast. "What's up Lairsy College? Once again it is I, Michelangelo; your lord and master of the airways. Just wanted to give a brief shout out to everyone who dropped off money to the st
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