The Resume'

The lair stretched on endlessly on all sides of him. Dark, save for the meagre light and eerie glow , the torch he carried in his hand, seemingly reluctantly, gifted him . His slow measured steps took him towards the heart of the cave, where it seemed that even the blackness acquired a deeper shade of dark.
The journey had taken a heavy toll on him. 30 days on horseback through uninhabited wilds, sprinkled with hostile man eating Kygrins , poisonous plants of great and diverse variety, an assortment of fatal insects that ranged from killer spiders that looked like mushrooms.. to beatles that looked like flowers. Add that to a sun that rained fire during the day and a dusk that brought with it a cold that would bring even the most hardened winter dweller to his knees and you have yourself quite a trip on your hands. Even the eight or so warriors sent to intercept him would have had to agree with his assessment. Would have, that is, if he hadnt ensured that they all lay in shallow graves scattered across the plain. Well atleast the trip had had its fun moments.

On a more comforting note, It was gratifying to know that legendary beasts sure could pick the best spots to call home. Legendary beasts. Just like the one that seemed to be eyeing him with a great deal of interest right at that very moment. Black Dragons had that way of looking mighty interested in anything that they were about to kill/eat/pillage or generally bother in any way anytime soon.
It was a higher magic user too. He could tell because all of a sudden the cave seemed to illuminate itself considerably and he was finally able to see the mountains of assorted bones and forbidden treasure that piled up all over.
Possibly a female as well.. he could smell the faint odor of some godforsaken perfume around the place. Very particular about their appearances they were, these female Black Dragons.

He flexed his muscles under his armour, shifted from foot to foot, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and cleared his throat.
The Dragon, to say the least, did not look too amused. Just interested.
It spoke, in a notably female voice , the kind he liked to hear under him on wicked moments spent in houses of ill repute after hours of strong ale , " Well Well Well..." , it said " So they have finally sent YOU..."

All he could manage was a polite "ummm"

It continued.. "But..know this Cloud Dancer, i am no mere Dragonious... i am of the elder magic.. Princess of kahl an duur, blood of the line of Shezka! No mere mortal can stand against my power!"

He muttered an oath under his breath.

The Dragon drew herself upto her full height, and towered a good 20 feet above him. Now things were really getting interesting.. " I have fought and bled for over 6 centuries and i've seen many warriors come and go.. and i assure you .. you will not be the last.."

A slow wind began to find expression from somewhere deep within the depths of the cave and decided to prove its point by managing to penetrate his clothing and indeed his heart. But shivering just wasnt his style, so he just let it go.

"The great magii of Parthon tried and failed, i feasted on their corpses for over a week.. the Knights of Daska came with their shining armour and enchanted blades and i still keep their torn limbs for amusement.. the highest Blood Priests from Aandur tried to best me with their dread magic, and i laughed fire in their faces..

He felt the stir of earth magic being woven all around him..Powerful spells. Just the aura around this majestic beast reeked of raw power. Its Talons shone bright even in the dim light. Its mighty tail, covered and protected by armoured scales, swished once across the cave floor and then lay still. He saw traces of even stronger spells begin to make their way around the dragon's form.

The Dragon continued its speech as if the magic was but a part of its dialogue.. "So leave now, dancer, and leave with your soul.. but if you choose to fight me.. know this.. i will kill you and keep your soul and toy with it for eternity... Low Blood. "

Hmm, So a Black Dragon, possibly 6 centuries old, a high eternal no less, equipped with elder magic, deifnitely a tri-elemental.. probably the strongest looking dragon he'd seen in a while.. and quite confident..

He slowly turned around and began to make his way out of the lair... Afterall , who could stand against a resume' like that? The Good thing about him though, was that he knew when he was licked.. 'If you cant beat em, run away as fast as you can' , his father always said, and he lived by that simple mantra.

He found , though , to his great dismay , that he suddenly couldnt move his feet. Something was nagging at the back of his mind..
Oh ..
That..

In a movement so quick that you'd miss it even if you didnt blink, and a flurry of iron and steel, he had wipped out his swords and was already preparing his own spells..
He then turned around and charged a completely surprised dragon.

No one called Tehrad Ul Restasta , Cloud Dancer, blood bretheren to guzga, the wicker dream, dragonslayer, Bane of the last seeress of zunzar, the song of summer, Son of Urlahaad Ul Kangarka, warrior, mage, prince, a Low Blood!


+g+ <*_*>

A blur around the edges

The street lights cast a somewhat melancholic orange tint on the roads outside his home. The few just outside his door were shrouded by trees and the light filtered through the branches and leaves, in what he thought were beautful beams of broken light, and bounced off window panes creating a diffused orange halo of sorts.
The street he lived on, was , in itself was quite unremarkable, and generally conformed to whatever standards streets in the vicinity typically conformed to. Other than the 6 odd houses that it contained on eitherside, a few restless mongrel mutts who had made it their home and debris and construction material, the street had recently become home to a lost feeling.

He sat alongside the lost feeling and tried to console it for the 100th time that night and yet again to no obvious avail. It stirred briefly, glanced around and then lashed out a tentacle and struck out at his chest. The contact brought a brief shudder to him, one of many that of late he had become quite accustomed to. Not completely alien to lost feelings, he was quite surprised that he was having so much trouble with this one. For one, it was highly unpredictable, and to an extent its behaviour was much like a randomly shot bullet ricocheting off 6 types of different surfaces only to finally rest in the most vulnerable place of all.
Secondly, unlike run of the mill lost feelings, this one didnt fade briefly when exposed to novel stimulii, but on the contrary, it just seemed to grow ever more lonesome.

The cold winter wind tried to unravel him with its fury but had to give up eventually.He had far greater problems to deal with.

The lost feeling followed him up to his room, shared his meal and then quietly got under the blanket with him.
It even turned away from him and allowed him a hug as he nestled his nose in its neck.


- an excerpt from the recovered journal of Nomad al Gamadia, travelling through diffident times and stranger roads.

+g+ <*_*>

Greetings fellow traveller of the deep dark wastes of exuberance

do you ever get the feeling that you've seen it all, been thru it all; that everything that's ever happened is happening all over again; that nothing stays the same and nothing, ever, ever, changes?

There's a point all of us reach after which everything ceases to matter; we all live, after all, in worlds of one.

The otherside will always beckon; no matter how much closer you get to the shattering moment.That this very poignance that makes consciousness at all possible is in fact what impedes our flight...

And, all your dreams and all your prayers fly upon the wings of pink suger coated pigs while you sit somewhere with a cup of tea looking at the mountains and thinking, again, that the tall blue one is where it's at.



:D

The young and the disenchanted

When you're working your ass off
haven't slept in so long
cant sleep
too much waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting
still waiting

young, full of energy. want to do stuff.
but it ain't happening. its like the great pause. you're stalling. you know you cant stall. cause stalling you fall and go flaaattt... phud. dhud. thud (nothing's easy. specially not falling)
so you've gotta do something.
right?
but what?
and now?
how?


Its the waiting i despise. i don't know what to do with it. the slow pace kills me. i need it to happen and i need it to happen yesterday.

blah blah blaaaah blah blah...


:D

Gabriel's Fall

Everytime i read your previous post, i cant help but smile. I know i really shouldnt, but i just cant help myself.
I also must apologize for any inconvienience (if any) this very late reply might have caused you.
That said, as i stare at this slowly filling page, my IPod pumps 'Infected Mushroom - NeverEverLand' into my ear drums. We all need our coffee you see.



And then, he heard her soft, careful steps right behind him...

The landscape darkens, and soft blue light slowly begins to filter itself in the all around. He, with his armour in tatters looks around with an expression of disbelief and faint resignation. This has to stop happening!



They rush at him all at once, suddenly, and with weapons drawn, and he barely has time to draw his own blade and parry the spear thrust at him from the side. Close call. Another blade catches the gleaming sunlight and narrowly misses his arm. He leaps back and has barely a second to study the quarry as he starts twirling and rolling his wrist, and using his knees to propel himself in a dance of steel.



A thrust spear catches him on his side, and it splits his armour, going deep and penetrating the soft vulnerable flesh underneath. He loses his balance for a second... and thats all they need. That once second.

A thrust sword scores his shoulder, another his left arm and before he knows whats happening, he is pinned down, under the hacking blades.



No pain now, no pain... as it all begins to fade to black...



And the next time he opens his eyes, he's back. Back to where? He doesnt know yet.. But he'd better get started before the blue light begins to do its thing again...

And then, he heard her soft, careful steps right behind him...This has to stop happening...

Damn! He hated Wednesdays.



+G+

<*_*>

Dsyfunctional lives

the inexorable increase
the barrel's in your mouth now
bring me the cigarettes my friend
i think i'm going to have another one
dysfunctional lives

sorrow has flowed into oblivion
oh i'll smile and wave
that shirt does look good on you, you see
but really i dont care
lets get it started, shall we

too far, that otherside
long back i gave it all up
the mind is the king
it hurts every morning now, but
in the evenings i feel nothing

so will you pull the trigger
or will you pull the trigger

the air conditioning rumbles to flickering tubelight
we haven't seen rain for so long
the lighter's run out of gas again
bring me the matches will you?

the man at the desk will barely look up
blotches on the screen
they scream louder than i ever could
there must be silence

Silence!

So, will you... ?
or will you... ?



D

Chronicles of a struggling twenty something someone somewhere.

I must preface my post with a Cautionary Prelude. Although the walls of my room may be painted yellow.. they are a most Dull , unhappy, Uninspiring leprechaun yellow. WHAT? Leprechaun's arent yellow? Well if they ever got around to painting a room it would be the EXACT same shade as mine. How do i know all this? I just do. And as no leprechaun's were availabe for comment.. i deem myself the reigning authority on the subject.

SO.
This is my first post on this blog. And as first posts go, i shall try my best to tell you as little about myself as possible. Lest you run away to never return. Seriously. Sometimes i scare myself.

I have read your previous post very carefully and given your question adequate thought.. And i must confess.. there is no single answer to your question. There are far too many 'kinks' in this torrid place i call my mind. Anyhow, i have oodles of unanswered questions to deal with. Better you get used to it now.

As of now, i am an 'On Location Producer' for a Fashion Show. Sounds cool eh? Well it basically means that while all my fellow fellows get to go and meet all the HOT MODELS and GAY DESIGNERS.. i get to sit in a HOT SEALED VAN with other SWEATY GREASY MEN.
So if you happen to chance upon any fashion shows on the telly, you could be watching MY work..
Seriously.
Try to avoid fashion shows in general for a bit.

*sigh*

An extract from the diary of the man who lives in a pink walled room and doesn't keep a diary

i Have a question for you.
Just one question. It's a simple question, won't take you more than a few minutes to answer... no effort at all really!
What is you kink?
You know that thing you have, that one little jutting thing, stands out to you all the time, pokes you prods you...
That thing you just do...
Little shrill voice in that back of your head yellin 'gotcha sucker!'...

Oh! you know what i'm talkin about!
So... what is it?

The sound begins so suddenly; rafts up to hit you like a wave and dies down.
it does that a bit