Having set up my bad guys a bit better (the one behind the bad guy, that is) I took a glance at my notes and now panic sets in.
I have never done more than think about the story before this, and that only whilst smoking my pipe. No notes, not a sketch of a map... nada.
Yeah, this means I start, not with linking this tale to the last, but building TWO tales for the price of one. The good news, I can explore what Scorpio means about leaving the mess for others to clean up after the job. The bad news, I have not a clue where he made this mess at, why (well, a little clue, but not much to work with), or what the mess was.
Scorpio/Tagrun can be a bit of a pain, just like Billenius, to write, as you see.
So, first I need to decide what happened in "The Seeking Blade", and follow that thread to where it ended. Then craft the opening so I don't spoil that tale for readers.
*sigh*
The joys of being a story teller/writer that they never tell you about. Wandering characters who fail to check in with their owners. Kind of like that cat you keep in the yard, the neighborhood stray that you wonder where he goes and what he does between visits.
So, I know "Seeking Blade" is about Scorpio's worst nightmare, a wild goose chase job, that drags him all around the Great Water's coasts, seeking a foe that seems to exist, yet not exist.
Of all the ports to end that tale in, two stand out, begging for a tale to be set there. Tirosht, the capital of the Council for the Reclamation of the North Empire (or really the last remnant of that empire's power) and Drif Geldean, the home of the Knights Justicar, an order of paladins of justice. A third place, one that makes a bit more sense, is Dhibt, on the coast of Domorushtuu, where perhaps the goose chase could have ended with the spoiling of another of the Necromancer's plots. Which would explain why Zisura now feels a need for more enchanted blades and power bases to work from.
Three tales down the road is "Dagger and Gavel", Scorpio's first contact with the lands of the Knights Justicar homeland, so that eliminates Geldean. His name making journey, that spreads his fame to the lands of the Council as a byword among the Law enforcers is the second tale after Predator, so.....
Dhibt, the city of the worst of Domorushtuu, pirates, vampires, gnolls, and demons from Athalan. That succubus in the opening now gets woven into the tale, in reflection, as the victim he left the mess with. One that Zisura and her allies took advantage of for making the Leech Blade.
Dhibt, a city sunk into debauchery, reeking of filth and smoke, a place so vile even drow tremble at the mere mention of it.
Dhibt, where the Vampires rule....
A place where Codi Dunh and Scorpio would need to have a reason to remain. Amid such reprobates and miscreants, only love or revenge, maybe a hint of greed, would keep one after a job is finished.
And now, I have a slim thread to run with. A touch of all three motives, with the flair of Guild business. Perhaps a visit as the representatives of Jinotazu, the Master of the Allegiance of the Blades, to that local chapter.
Time to let the fingers dance later today. But first, some work to earn coffee and tobacco money.
Showing posts with label Sin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sin. Show all posts
Monday, June 16, 2014
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
The Drug Storm Rolls On Around Us All - A poem of the streets, even yours perhaps.
I've heard a lot lately.
Rumbles from Hell's Block,
Whispers from City Creek
and warbling cries on streets.
But this morning's eavesdrop
gave me a clue it is indeed
as bad as those trapped
down on Rio Grande say.
Went in to the Sev,
noted freshly broken tank lid
on the throne I borrowed
to avoid a Public U violation.
Commenting to the clerks
they told me the story
of the guy who danced in
and back out too often.
But the real horror here,
is what else he did
leaving his junkie needles,
called points by many street-folk,
on the phone booth outside,
in the trashcan inside
and guess why the porcelain broke?
Yep, even in there, I guess.
Some folks in Outreach admit
it will only get worse now
as funding is up in air
and volunteers leave them
short-handed during the busy season
as the druggies and drunks
turn to rehab to stay warm
until their next big relapse.
Seen evidence all around,
like yesterday morning at CandC
where two camped on the sidewalk
at the corner of State and 4th south
waking up to panhandle
their fellow homeless,
as no one else was about
or yell at passing cars.
Ether and dog crap smells
rule the Library restrooms
and there is no safe place
to escape things I want to avoid
due to my allergic reactions
to the recreational chems of others.
The guards here try their best
but are totally outnumbered.
Skunky odors warn me off
from the smoker's corner
far too often here of late,
as the dopers return in droves
from the camps and hideaways
to hold hands out during give-aways.
Mouth wash smell spells dangers
as some drunks sink that low.
Seen soap dispenser spigots
broken off and used for rocks
last winter and early spring,
so I wonder what destruction
this coming cold season carries
as it wraps around the mountains
in clouds as bleak and ominous
as the mood I now am in.
Tweakers jitter about nervously,
who knows which cocktail
sets off their rapid pacings
and mutters of obscenities.
Some sit slumped over,
victims of the near seizure
the hand sanitizer drinkers
call their precious highs.
Every where I look these days
I see the signs of abuse
and the toll on those using
as well as the society around.
Not to mention the devastation
I'm sure their families suffer
worried about their lost sheep
but not enough to really act.
Over the last two years
I've seen it getting worse.
When I first went homeless
the hills held only the drunks
and occasional stoner camps
they always had in past,
but now, more dangerous breeds
are moving around the streets.
They prey upon society
hunt out those who won't share
the highs, lows and money
they seem to always need.
They trash the caches used
by those not among their ilk
and ruin it for those of us
who have not managed escape.
Welcome to your dark underbelly,
oh you of Society's prudes.
The very ones preaching like you
are the ones using narcotics,
abusing booze and prescriptions,
and experimenting dangerously
with household cleaning products
to find the face of God.
25September2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Rumbles from Hell's Block,
Whispers from City Creek
and warbling cries on streets.
But this morning's eavesdrop
gave me a clue it is indeed
as bad as those trapped
down on Rio Grande say.
Went in to the Sev,
noted freshly broken tank lid
on the throne I borrowed
to avoid a Public U violation.
Commenting to the clerks
they told me the story
of the guy who danced in
and back out too often.
But the real horror here,
is what else he did
leaving his junkie needles,
called points by many street-folk,
on the phone booth outside,
in the trashcan inside
and guess why the porcelain broke?
Yep, even in there, I guess.
Some folks in Outreach admit
it will only get worse now
as funding is up in air
and volunteers leave them
short-handed during the busy season
as the druggies and drunks
turn to rehab to stay warm
until their next big relapse.
Seen evidence all around,
like yesterday morning at CandC
where two camped on the sidewalk
at the corner of State and 4th south
waking up to panhandle
their fellow homeless,
as no one else was about
or yell at passing cars.
Ether and dog crap smells
rule the Library restrooms
and there is no safe place
to escape things I want to avoid
due to my allergic reactions
to the recreational chems of others.
The guards here try their best
but are totally outnumbered.
Skunky odors warn me off
from the smoker's corner
far too often here of late,
as the dopers return in droves
from the camps and hideaways
to hold hands out during give-aways.
Mouth wash smell spells dangers
as some drunks sink that low.
Seen soap dispenser spigots
broken off and used for rocks
last winter and early spring,
so I wonder what destruction
this coming cold season carries
as it wraps around the mountains
in clouds as bleak and ominous
as the mood I now am in.
Tweakers jitter about nervously,
who knows which cocktail
sets off their rapid pacings
and mutters of obscenities.
Some sit slumped over,
victims of the near seizure
the hand sanitizer drinkers
call their precious highs.
Every where I look these days
I see the signs of abuse
and the toll on those using
as well as the society around.
Not to mention the devastation
I'm sure their families suffer
worried about their lost sheep
but not enough to really act.
Over the last two years
I've seen it getting worse.
When I first went homeless
the hills held only the drunks
and occasional stoner camps
they always had in past,
but now, more dangerous breeds
are moving around the streets.
They prey upon society
hunt out those who won't share
the highs, lows and money
they seem to always need.
They trash the caches used
by those not among their ilk
and ruin it for those of us
who have not managed escape.
Welcome to your dark underbelly,
oh you of Society's prudes.
The very ones preaching like you
are the ones using narcotics,
abusing booze and prescriptions,
and experimenting dangerously
with household cleaning products
to find the face of God.
25September2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Monday, June 24, 2013
Writer Fuel, Anyone? - A Poem of Writing
Every writer has their blend.
The "word-tane" rating to speed
along the tale being told
tweaked to their own tastes,
needs or financial budget room.
Writer Fuel, that's the stuff
we will talk about today
The grades I usually use
the ones held in reserve.
Top of the list sits
the standby of good coffee
thought being homeless I resort
to instant way too often
for it to be effective.
Next comes my JP4 version
Coke and Coffee mingled together
in varying ratios based on
my energy levels and distractions
to blow past as needed.
Cookies and donuts tie out
at the number three slot,
forcing me to call them
Alpha and Beta fuel blends
as fingers dance across keyboard.
The fifth slot stinks plenty,
being the tobacco I use
to calm nerves as writing
or ponder out plot issues
when my characters stage rebellions.
Below them lay the others
not granted permanent ranking status.
Ice cream, root beer, and
a few favorite foods rare
in my diet these days.
Right now, WF2 sits ready
one bottle down, one mixing
to fuel an edit overdue
and one long writing session
to finish a story soon.
These are my choice fuels,
so what do you use?
I'd like to hear ideas
for days when cash strapped
or just suffering writer's block.
24JUNE2013 - Dyfedd Rex
The "word-tane" rating to speed
along the tale being told
tweaked to their own tastes,
needs or financial budget room.
Writer Fuel, that's the stuff
we will talk about today
The grades I usually use
the ones held in reserve.
Top of the list sits
the standby of good coffee
thought being homeless I resort
to instant way too often
for it to be effective.
Next comes my JP4 version
Coke and Coffee mingled together
in varying ratios based on
my energy levels and distractions
to blow past as needed.
Cookies and donuts tie out
at the number three slot,
forcing me to call them
Alpha and Beta fuel blends
as fingers dance across keyboard.
The fifth slot stinks plenty,
being the tobacco I use
to calm nerves as writing
or ponder out plot issues
when my characters stage rebellions.
Below them lay the others
not granted permanent ranking status.
Ice cream, root beer, and
a few favorite foods rare
in my diet these days.
Right now, WF2 sits ready
one bottle down, one mixing
to fuel an edit overdue
and one long writing session
to finish a story soon.
These are my choice fuels,
so what do you use?
I'd like to hear ideas
for days when cash strapped
or just suffering writer's block.
24JUNE2013 - Dyfedd Rex
Monday, April 15, 2013
Working on a new story today... CRAPP tale from Troy Tanner
It's kind of nice when one of my more easy to deal with characters sits down to relate a tale to me. At least Troy drinks coffee, not tea, and his only snob points are the coffee must be black, bitter, hot and near a bar for the really strange parts.
The tale he spent the morning so far relating centers around vampires, or at least the messy aftermath after they get staked. Seems that vampire dust is a leading cause of anemia, at least according to CRAPP regulations.
Probably will market this one, the working title so far is "The Great SoCal Vampire Dustbowl Cleanup". Not happy with it, will have to find something better, unless it proves to work when done. Amazing how many undead are cops so far....
The tale he spent the morning so far relating centers around vampires, or at least the messy aftermath after they get staked. Seems that vampire dust is a leading cause of anemia, at least according to CRAPP regulations.
Probably will market this one, the working title so far is "The Great SoCal Vampire Dustbowl Cleanup". Not happy with it, will have to find something better, unless it proves to work when done. Amazing how many undead are cops so far....
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Don Juan vs. the Naughty Naked Ninja-Nuns
With a flick of the thumb
cards riffle out on the table
the players relaxing for a while
their wimples pushed back off hair
left mussed and really charged up
sipping Gin and Tonics while playing
a game named for the booze.
When enters from Hell's broken gates
that wicked libertine of worldly renown
the man from the Iberian Peninsula
seeking more wenches to be remade
as notches in his notorious belt
and thinking these sultry sinful sisters
might just fill that bill nicely.
Now these were no mere mortals
yet not raised up to goddesses,
still to dare make a pass
at Naughty Naked Nuclear Ninja-Nuns
is not something I would recommend
heed this tale to understand why
oh secret reader of perverted tales.
Now Don Juan made his offers
not to one at a time
but all in bed at once
which rarely stirs the ladies hearts
outside certain shady literary genres
which lead to a flat rejection
voiced by all in unison monotones.
But that wicked and horny Spaniard
could not get the message connected
to any part of his mind
and pressed his suit (and body)
over the ladies despite earlier warnings
from demons so dire even Satan
leaves them to their own devices.
Gentle ones close your delicate ears
for that sparked the violence indeed
setting in motion flesh and wood
in the dance school children fear
as knuckles and more delicate parts
were sought out by whistling rulers
striking with Atomic Bomb powered smacks.
Now here is what sets fools
apart from the rest of us,
for this only made our villain
more aroused and determined to succeed
instead of severely psychologically traumatized forever
as he presented his case again
only to offer a new target.
Bared flesh now glistening with exertion
blazed through the air like birds
doing an intricate ballet of pain
as feet and fists lashed out
seeking groin and their foe's backside
specifically the part used for sitting
as highly explosive impact bull's-eyes.
When latter he recovered back below
unable to get off his feet
for the next many long weeks
he found out about modern tech
as the video was endlessly replayed
showing his inglorious and embarrassing defeat
being de-pantsed by Ninja Nuns.
The moral to this woeful tale
is never disturb the naked ladies
for they may be deadly servers
of the Fate you richly deserve
for actions against the fairer sex
that were never solicited or encouraged
thine fundament may indeed be kicked.
(28Apr2010 - Dyfedd Rex)
cards riffle out on the table
the players relaxing for a while
their wimples pushed back off hair
left mussed and really charged up
sipping Gin and Tonics while playing
a game named for the booze.
When enters from Hell's broken gates
that wicked libertine of worldly renown
the man from the Iberian Peninsula
seeking more wenches to be remade
as notches in his notorious belt
and thinking these sultry sinful sisters
might just fill that bill nicely.
Now these were no mere mortals
yet not raised up to goddesses,
still to dare make a pass
at Naughty Naked Nuclear Ninja-Nuns
is not something I would recommend
heed this tale to understand why
oh secret reader of perverted tales.
Now Don Juan made his offers
not to one at a time
but all in bed at once
which rarely stirs the ladies hearts
outside certain shady literary genres
which lead to a flat rejection
voiced by all in unison monotones.
But that wicked and horny Spaniard
could not get the message connected
to any part of his mind
and pressed his suit (and body)
over the ladies despite earlier warnings
from demons so dire even Satan
leaves them to their own devices.
Gentle ones close your delicate ears
for that sparked the violence indeed
setting in motion flesh and wood
in the dance school children fear
as knuckles and more delicate parts
were sought out by whistling rulers
striking with Atomic Bomb powered smacks.
Now here is what sets fools
apart from the rest of us,
for this only made our villain
more aroused and determined to succeed
instead of severely psychologically traumatized forever
as he presented his case again
only to offer a new target.
Bared flesh now glistening with exertion
blazed through the air like birds
doing an intricate ballet of pain
as feet and fists lashed out
seeking groin and their foe's backside
specifically the part used for sitting
as highly explosive impact bull's-eyes.
When latter he recovered back below
unable to get off his feet
for the next many long weeks
he found out about modern tech
as the video was endlessly replayed
showing his inglorious and embarrassing defeat
being de-pantsed by Ninja Nuns.
The moral to this woeful tale
is never disturb the naked ladies
for they may be deadly servers
of the Fate you richly deserve
for actions against the fairer sex
that were never solicited or encouraged
thine fundament may indeed be kicked.
(28Apr2010 - Dyfedd Rex)
Monday, April 23, 2012
Drive-by Flamers in Upside-down Beemers - a poem about flame tossers
Background: So, there was this person who flamed and flounced on a writing group I have an association with... and reading some of the comments, I realized I missed some great groans and laughs as it went down on the sidelines and I missed it... until the "Strike Three" call was issued....
This was my take on the way it may have went, from the banter I entered into.... and if the person who flounced don't like it, tough... unlike the others, being homeless has given me asbestos boxers (okay, I wear jockey styles, but still....) so blast away.
From the shady internet alleys
their fiery projectiles of words fly
as they duck silently in
only to flee faster yet
tipping over the virtual wheels
as they take the exit
way above the posting speed
and trash their imaginary Beemer
(the real one already upside-down)
into the guardrails of etiquette
of the boards they defile
as they do their drive-by's
to deflate other folks' egos
with hateful and inappropriate posts
while impersonating folks with skills
they never demonstrate bits of
despite pumping their own press
thinking the bigger the balloon
the better their chances are,
not seeing the flames igniting
the cattle by-product they sling
nor the fall to come
over Polite Discourse's steep cliff.
Leave your own requiem, please.
(22Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)
This was my take on the way it may have went, from the banter I entered into.... and if the person who flounced don't like it, tough... unlike the others, being homeless has given me asbestos boxers (okay, I wear jockey styles, but still....) so blast away.
From the shady internet alleys
their fiery projectiles of words fly
as they duck silently in
only to flee faster yet
tipping over the virtual wheels
as they take the exit
way above the posting speed
and trash their imaginary Beemer
(the real one already upside-down)
into the guardrails of etiquette
of the boards they defile
as they do their drive-by's
to deflate other folks' egos
with hateful and inappropriate posts
while impersonating folks with skills
they never demonstrate bits of
despite pumping their own press
thinking the bigger the balloon
the better their chances are,
not seeing the flames igniting
the cattle by-product they sling
nor the fall to come
over Polite Discourse's steep cliff.
Leave your own requiem, please.
(22Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Days of Penance for Venial Sins - A Poem
The walk is one I make
twice a week if not more
to do a few good deeds
in atonement for my many sins.
But each trip I make there
to the food bank to volunteer,
my eyes get me into trouble
as I pass through Liberty Park
For as I walk that sidewalk
joggers and skaters pass me by
drawing my gaze not from caution
but the beauty they let show.
Yes, I know its a sin
but only my eyes are involved
until I fail to step carefully
and find where dogs left landmines.
Then my mouth barks out curses
that mark my soul with sin
making it so I must serve
more days of penance for redemption.
Now with head hanging in shame
I move along in the grass
wiping my feet and counting out
the fullness of my foolish ways...
...and how much more to volunteer.
(29Mar2012 - Dyfedd Rex)
Karma is a stone cold killer lady, and always takes her dues.... yes, I have stepped in the poo many a time due to looking at "the scenery", but not always... sometimes I find the doggydoo while watching the clouds and sky, the trees, or looking over into the Aviary to see which birds are out in their pens....
twice a week if not more
to do a few good deeds
in atonement for my many sins.
But each trip I make there
to the food bank to volunteer,
my eyes get me into trouble
as I pass through Liberty Park
For as I walk that sidewalk
joggers and skaters pass me by
drawing my gaze not from caution
but the beauty they let show.
Yes, I know its a sin
but only my eyes are involved
until I fail to step carefully
and find where dogs left landmines.
Then my mouth barks out curses
that mark my soul with sin
making it so I must serve
more days of penance for redemption.
Now with head hanging in shame
I move along in the grass
wiping my feet and counting out
the fullness of my foolish ways...
...and how much more to volunteer.
(29Mar2012 - Dyfedd Rex)
Karma is a stone cold killer lady, and always takes her dues.... yes, I have stepped in the poo many a time due to looking at "the scenery", but not always... sometimes I find the doggydoo while watching the clouds and sky, the trees, or looking over into the Aviary to see which birds are out in their pens....
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