On the beach
In the darkness besides the dunes.
My fire burns tall and bright. In its flickering shadows and black caste demons I spy a crack in the world. Drawing 'round me the power I have gathered I gaze deep into the void beyond.
Many worlds are open to me through this hazard of night and flame. My sight draws upon them the arrow of their congruence. I follow, deeper and beyonder.
On the shores of a frozen lake I see the spinning phantom wheel. Through it strides a once wounded child of order. Across the window of the wheel and out the door of time the king of Chaos' cousin stands now. Clean and shorn of burden the new Pattern lays before him. Its maker proceeds him as they begin the battle to the center. The blood once spilled will defend the new Pattern but will it doom the old?
I draw back my gaze through flame and night, contemplating what I have seen. If it is true and not a shadow of some irrelevant ritual a transformative wave of event and circumstance will arise from such an exercise of power. Perhaps my will can take advantage of it? I return to my deliberation of beer can reflections in sand and story.
My fire burns tall and bright. In its flickering shadows and black caste demons I spy a crack in the world. Drawing 'round me the power I have gathered I gaze deep into the void beyond.
Many worlds are open to me through this hazard of night and flame. My sight draws upon them the arrow of their congruence. I follow, deeper and beyonder.
On the shores of a frozen lake I see the spinning phantom wheel. Through it strides a once wounded child of order. Across the window of the wheel and out the door of time the king of Chaos' cousin stands now. Clean and shorn of burden the new Pattern lays before him. Its maker proceeds him as they begin the battle to the center. The blood once spilled will defend the new Pattern but will it doom the old?
I draw back my gaze through flame and night, contemplating what I have seen. If it is true and not a shadow of some irrelevant ritual a transformative wave of event and circumstance will arise from such an exercise of power. Perhaps my will can take advantage of it? I return to my deliberation of beer can reflections in sand and story.
posted by Guy | 11:08 AM
1 Comments:
I was sad to arrive to late for the poor thing. It had wondered into my snare, set for another and been spit on the bitter truth and sanguid lies.
MP3_e_MP4 was shredded by the claws and smeared with the rancid fluids excreted by the carrion of this dark, feral place. From the build of its frame it looks like it was still young. Too young to see the obvious warnings perhaps?
I placed the last stone on the strange things cairn and inscribed "MP3_e_MP4" on it with a simple spell I keep around for such tasks.
I cast another spell as well, bringing up a wind to drive off the stink of that strange thing before reseting my traps.
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