Saturday, March 11, 2006
Click here.
I'm too lazy to get the URL for my trailer again. ;)
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12:20:00 AM
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Saturday, January 07, 2006
I have a new blog.
http://calthyechild.blogsome.com
(shrugs) It has folders. I may switch to using it entirely instead.
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12:52:00 AM
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Monday, December 05, 2005
I read Varok's introductory piece aloud at the TGIO party. (snickers) I had everyone's attention AND I had people laughing aloud. More than once. For me, that is an accomplishment.
Needless to say, this is a moreless diary piece. Sort of. The TGIO party was dreadfully amusing once I managed to get talking to a couple girls. Yes, I did a karoke number... I sang "The Rose" by someone or another. I was tempted to do Complicated as well, by Avril L., but mom decided we needed to leave at about 10:30ish so I didn't have time after I did my reading.
And I have a little trophy. XD. I'll have to take a picture of it...
You know you're among fellow geeks when they're doing the "awards" thing and handing out the plasic trophies for those who passed 50K and the ML comments on your shirt and tells you to read what it says aloud. ("If I look tired, it's because I'm still running on Coruscant Local Time", the quote is mine, but Jandalf made the shirt. I mentioned that, vaguely, heh.) You also know you're among fellow geeks when you're not the only person with a binder... AND... more than once person has a laptop on hand. Heh. I've never been in the presense of people like that before... so... wow. I was worried, actually, that I'd be estranged because I'm so... odd. I wasn't. Although I do admit to having to break myself into it... fortunately some girl made a comment on "I'M TALLER THAN YOU!" to another, and Hobbit me just HAD to speak up...
(falls over)
And I like places that serve free pop refills. Mmm... pop... (runs to washroom)
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Sunday, November 27, 2005
I WON!! I REACHED (and passed) 50 K! My novel's far from complete, but I REACHED 50K!! (throws a party)
There. My life is complete. Ish. Snrk. But, hey, I did it. I'm at 50 700 words and feel... complete. Ish. Of course, there's still a lot more plot to go, but I'm going to write it anyway... (sigh) But later. I must recover and sleep a lot. Sleep is good. I haven't gotten enough of it. I don't do well on 6 hours of sleep. I need 8 to be awake. Not that I don't work well asleep, at least on writing... heh...
I ♥ Jether. Snrk. (rolls eyes) I'm dead tired, really, that's all, and finally was informed on how to do the heart!!
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11:32:00 PM
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Friday, November 25, 2005
This is really chapter five, but I jumped the chapters up so it's now chapter six, or something like that... meh. I just edited some junk, is all. So don't worry about the seeming gap, this should be next in order, cryonologically.
Notice the sort of pit-like enviorment? It was COMPLETELY unintentional, the reminicence. Which becomes more obvious as time carries on. But I'm amazed it's not completely parodied of TDE yet... heh... and yes, Wyn must be related to Danian. But Laytha won't notice that when she pops in later on.
For some weird reason, I find this chapter bitterly hilarious.
Oh, and I drew Amber. Once I color and finish inking her, I'll post her. I know she looks like Ariane in the picture. I WAS originally drawing Ariane and NOT Amber. Which is why it's fire-themy. It could easily pass as Ariane younger AND Amber. (shrugs)
***
Chapter Six: In Which The Narrator Couldn’t Think of an Appropriate Chapter Title
**
The East Farthings**
By the time a day had passed, Essar was bored silly. Not that he had any great desire to go on some incredible quest to save Amber from the evil spell, or whatever it was, but he had still thought that perhaps it would’ve been more amusing than this. This was just purely boring. It was the empty trudge of footsteps pattering through an empty land. It was fighting to open a cookie jar and discovering that it was empty of everything but crumbs.
Sometimes there would be couple of chocolate chips left, but it was mostly just crumbs that held absolutely no purpose beyond cluttering up a potentially nice jar.
The rain had continually poured down on them, drenching them in a downpour of frustrating liquid that hindered them from reaching their goal. This was the first moment in Essar’s life that he regretted having long hair. Soaked, it dangled into his eyes and completely hindered his sight while at the same time making him appear like a drowned cat. To make things worse, Amber insisted on walking backwards the entire time.
No lifeforms had appeared beyond circling birds overhead in the pouring rain and several pestering insects which had left Amber wailing to high heaven about the evil menaces from the depths of the storm. Although the threatening growls and creaks in the distance of the pattering rush of a downpour had left them both on edge.
And the scenery had remained untouched, a continual rocky slumber. Every once in a while Essar had noticed a slightly crooked tree alongside a deep black rock with a red heart. It had seemed slightly suspicious, as they clearly were not going in circles. The land itself seemed nearly menacing, a deep world of whispering fear from the shadows.
They had stopped for the night by now, refuge taken underneath an overhanging cleft of gray rock, Essar’s attempt to light a fire ultimately failing in a puff of slightly damp smelling smoke. He tossed away the damp brush in disgust.
Amber had made her haven in the furthest and deepest corner of the crevice. It was certainly no cave that the two huddled in, wrapped up in their damp cloaks and slightly damp blankets from their packs. The worst thing it held was a few bugs, but Amber had murdered them with a glance. Well, perhaps more literally it had been with a large stick and a rock that the legions of dry bugs had met their deaths. Terrified of them clearly, it seemed that she had taken great joy in murdering the little things.
Essar, on the other hand, had the elusive feeling that there was something phantasmal about, the eerie whisper of a crawling sensation down his spine that none of this was what it seemed. It had started out peaceful, but now everything had this eldritch feel of magicality, of an invisible nature to what was occuring.
He didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t intend on starting now.
“I’m cold,” Amber whispered after killing the last of the bugs. The human girl had pulled herself into a huddle, arms wrapped around her knees. “I miss my mother.”
Essar glanced over at her briefly, wondering if she was trying for a pity case. “What about your father?” he asked, figuring the slightly sarcastic shot back was safe enough ground.
Amber closed her eyes. “I never really knew him.”
“He’s dead?”
“Oh, no. I just don't know him.”
Essar found this a rather strange statement that made very little sense to the way his mind worked. “Your parents are separated?”
Amber shook her head, and he merely grew all the further confused. “We’ll be there by tommorow,” he offered to change the topic when she refused to speak, and the silence had grown awkward enough to be spread upon a cake and eaten for tea.
“I know.” She closed her eyes, and leaned back against the cliff wall, a smattering of the rainy mist having touched her face with a light misty gleam. The situation was far beyond either of their comprehension, as little as they knew of it now. Essar couldn't bring himself to sleep, his feet crossed in tired slumber. However, as tired as his feet were, his mind refused to come to rest.
He wanted to know what eluded him. He wanted to know why there was a tingling feeling in the air whenever he reached out to Amber. He wanted to know what had happened to her when she had fallen into that so-called magical fountain.
It had done something to her, but she refused to speak upon it.
He closed his eyes, and tried to fall into uneasy dreams, and into a dull demeanor that could drop him into a dreamy reverie of sleep and things beyond comprehension.
Essar wasn’t allowed very long to sleep. He was awaken to a pair of amber eyes staring at him with a brilliant and insane gleam. Underneath the eyes was a nose, a face, a slight beard, a mouth, and a face. Not to mention the remainder of the person with the eyes, of course. “Go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d morning!”
“It’s not morning. Go away,” Essar grumbled, grabbing for his pillow (which wasn’t there), and pulling it over his head. He realized a second later that his pillow was not that, and that there was something over his head that was not a pillow. He felt it tentatively, went immediately red, and moved Amber back to where she had been sleeping like a limp rag.
She collapsed in a heap, not even a slight twitch from being dragged over to use as a pillow.
“You have to get up!” the cheerful amber eyed character chirped, waving a... a... Essar narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know what it was, but it looked dangerous. “It be breakfast time, yes!”
The halfling discovered a pizza box shoved under his nose.
“Pizza’s not breakfast!”
“It’s breakfast no-o-o-o-o-o-w!” the amber eyed character crowed, suddenly vanishing in a puff of purple and orange smoke that smelt suspiciously like powdered grape juice.
Amber sat up. “Why do I smell pizza?” she asked narrowly, glancing over at Essar, holding a pizza box with the lable Runeite Pizza Parlor in swirling letters. He made an attempt to hide it behind his back, which was rather purposeless, being as the box was wider than he was. “You ordered pizza?!”
“No!” he protested. “The guy just showed up. I think... er... that bird up there did. Yeah.”
She moved over to glance at it. “Sans-Serif- Font- Size- 60- Runite- Pizza- Parlor®- Subscript- CNI®- Font- Size- 20- Delivery- in- thirty- minutes- guaranteed- or- may- all- the- birds- of- the- foulest- nations- take- my- liver- and- feed- it- to- the- sharks- of- the- furthest- oceans- of- the- Inner- Realms- and- your- money- back- as- an- added- bonus- fries- not- included- toys- each- sold- separately.” Her expression could only have been described as a lower case o, an underscore, and an uppercase O. “Sounds vicious. Do we want to eat it?”
“Where’s the toy?” Essar muttered, looking about for the baggie with the toy, and wondering how she possibly pronounced the ®.
“It might have brains on it,” Amber mused.
Essar turned his head upside down in order to look underneath the box without possibly hurting the pizza.
Amber tilted her head, pursing her lips in a contemplative expression. “But then, it could also have spider guts, orange bellied lizards, the deadly poisonous blowfish of the western seas, and improper grammar on it.”
“He stole the toy!” Essar exclaimed in horror, his eyes widening. “How could he!?”
“But then,” Amber mused, “deadly poisonous fish might not taste half bad. No one really knows, because no one’s ever wasted their dying breath to expand upon the idea of what the deadly poisonous fish tasted like. It could also taste rather horrible...”
Essar opened the pizza box. His widened eyes paused, confused for a moment before one of them twitched slightly, lowering. The other one took a bit longer to catch up before it lowered likewise, giving him a narrowed expression. He handed the box over to her wordlessly.
In the little pink circles of various who-knows-what meat, filled with unknown parts of pigs, cows, and possibly poisonous fish from the western seas that no one knew what flavor they were was spelt out a symbol. It looked remarkably like a semicolon with a capital P beside it.
“I was right!” Amber exclaimed. “It does have improper grammar on it! Hah!”
“Er...”
“Well, that certainly doesn’t look proper to me.” She took a slice, removing the dot from the semicolon, and began munching on it. The pizza was warm and perfectly flavored.
“You know, that looked remarkably like a little person sticking out their tongue tilted on its side,” Essar remarked, taking another slice of the pizza before she could consider eating it all. He didn’t know how or why it had gotten there, but he didn’t care. It was nice warm pizza, and he hadn’t had to pay for it. He was going to eat it.
Amber swallowed her mouthful. “Right.” She gave him an odd look before taking another bite. Essar sighed. He didn’t expect her to see the logic of the little face sticking its tongue out in the midst of cheese and mushroom coating the pizza in pure stretchy bliss. He thought to himself that he was greatly indebited to the person who had thought to introduce the idea of circles of some sort of dough with tomato sauce, various meat chunks, cheese, and various vegetables to Endyr. As well as the person who had introduced Hawkey. It was a great game when it wasn’t raining. Running around batting a little black circle around on ice or slippery ground with a slightly bent stick into a net. So many girls thought it was pointless, but he thought it was great fun.
Both of the inventors, he remembered, had hailed from some place called Cahnadah. On Terra, they had said.
He reached for another piece of pizza at the exact same moment as Amber, and their hands connected. She froze. It was like an electric shock passed between the two of them. Their eyes connected, time seemed to freeze...
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Then Essar realized an electric shock had really passed between them. He picked the toy out of the warm and gooey cheese. “I guess they
didn’t steal it,” he mused, picking up the little electronic toy guilty of the static shock. Amber took the moment to grab the slice of pizza and munch thoughtfully on it.
Essar took the moment to sulk. That piece had possessed the most pepperoni pieces, and he had liked pepperoni pieces. However, he had no great desire for ABC unknown random meat, and instead tinkered with the unknown toy, until he got shocked again. This led to the decision that eating seemed like a better idea, and the ultimate consumption of an unfortunate slice of pizza, leading to digestion and further processes which will not be described here in text, as you may be considering eating sooner or later.
Yes, Endyr had electricity of a sort. Get over it.
***
Wyn wandered off, snickering slightly to himself. He had just known that it would work to get them pizza without having to waste a single step, though he was walking at the moment, and therefore wasting single steps. More than that, actually, considering that he was taking about three to fifteen steps for every sentence spoken herein...
Oh, never mind.
He had just
known his scroll of delivery would work once he had worked out the glitches in making it pass through reality and the dreamscape. Well, that, and the little incident with it arriving before the person had ordered i...
He paused, and for a moment considered that it certainly hadn’t seemed as if Essar had wanted the pizza...
Now, wasn't that interesting, he thought upon observing a rather purple looking flower with an orange butterfly perched on top of it. It looked remarkably shiny as well. Quite shiny. He liked it. It was pretty...
Lost to a tangent, he decided to pick flowers for his mother.
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Wednesday, November 23, 2005
The Rest of Chapter Five**
Naraqe had nearly reached the house numbered 1138 Westmark Avenue when a particularly cute looking kitten with orange and black markings bounced past her, a gray ball of wool in its teeth.
Aw. How adorable, she thought, watching as the innocent kitten bounded past her.
Five and three seventeenths of a second later a short woman dressed in pink with bunny slippers and wearing oven mitts crashed into her. The two went sprawling into the dust, a cloud of gray and brown swirling up into the air as they both flew backwards in a flurry of speedlines. Naraqe jumped to her feet, and offered the spawled short woman a hand.
“That cat...” The shorter woman coughed, and pulled herself upright. “Has my Wool of Doom!”
“Your what?”
“Wool of Doom!” the woman exclaimed, pointing wildly in the direction of the kitten.
Some part of Naraqe’s mind decided that she thought she liked this woman. “Oh. Well, in that case...” The elf queen grabbed the woman’s arm, and dragged her off in the direction of the thieving cat. Togther they chased after it through the streets of Serenor, attempting to recover the Ultimate Superweapon.
Chickens went flying, merchants found themselves pushed aside, and dust went clouding up into the air in large murky quantities as they dashed after the adorable kitten in possession of the Wool of Doom. For some odd reason the fact that the ball of wool had been dubbed the Wool of Doom didn’t really sink into Naraqe’s mind. The fact that the woman had smelt like chocolate chip cookies had, however, and she hoped that if they made it to the cat, she would be able to apprehend a few of the cookies in reward.
No matter that she had just eaten a chocolate tea cake. The elf wanted cookies. She liked cookies every bit as much as she liked pickles, cake, and apples (though not all mixed together).
The other woman, on the other hand, seemed very set on catching the cat. But Naraqe thought she seemed nice.
They barreled through a stall full of various rugs and unbreakable ornaments in attempt to locate the cat, sending pet rocks flying into the street. One of them went flying and hit a garden gnome in the forehead, who carried on to start a protest on the mistreatment of smaller races, leading on a campaign to stop the racism directed towards species under four feet tall. This led several human childern to join in, declaring that they were protected by the new demands as long as they remained under four feet tall, and this in turn lead to tortured teenagers cutting their legs off in order to attempt to join in the new society for the Vertically Challenged. Greatly inspired by the testimonies of various short people, a bard wrote a deeply moving poem in favor of love for all races, and a listener found himself throwing his arms out dramatically. A vase was knocked from a window when he did this, and accidently hit an elf on the head. This elf was the leader of a crime ring, and when the vase knocked him out, the ring was ended.
None of which had any relevance to the present plot, of course.
Finally running into a blank wall, the two looked around wildly for the cat.
Naraqe blinked. The cat had vanished.
The other woman blinked as well. It wasn’t as if blinking was an abnormal thing to do. It removed dust particles from ones eye that could otherwise bring blindness to their remarkably useful retinal tools. Or at least cause ones eyes to grow strained and liquid to pool up in their corners causing one to look as if they are remarkably distressed. Of course, by this time, one is quite likely to be very distressed from not blinking, because all sorts of atoms would be brushing against the surface of your sclera and oculus, and who knows what could be in those. This does cause remarkable distress after about twenty seconds or more, unless of course you are fond of the feeling of your eyes drying up and shriveling into useless circular shapes of muscle.
So, in that context, it was not an abnormal thing for either of them to blink at that time.
The shorter woman threw her hands out dramatically, bringing about the ultimate demise of several unfortunate atoms. “
Why, oh why does fate hate me?” she declared.
“Perhaps we could lure the cat with some of those cookies you obviously baked?” Naraqe asked hopefully.
“Perhaps that would work...” The shorter woman considered it with a contemplative expression. “How did you know I made cookies?”
“You smell like them, and you’re wearing oven mitts.”
And pink bunny slippers, Naraqe noted with an amused expression.
“You could smell that I made cookies in Serenor?”
“Yes...”
The other woman looked rather impressed. Considering that most of the city smelt like a brilliant mass of various scents from horse droppings to chocolate cake to the mixture of a million various being’s sweat mingled into the air, it was an impressive feat. To think about all the millions of things you were breathing into your nasal passages by the mere act of breathing in Serenor, and several cities like it made one think twice about breathing, in truth. Because anyone who had studied anything about the human body (and most other races) knew that smelling involved several particles of the unpleasant smell working their way up your nose and lodging themselves in your head.
Although this did explain why a lot of people acted like butt-heads, and as if they continually had their heads stuck in an outhouse, it still wasn’t a pleasant thought to think that there were tiny particles of horse droppings in your nose mingling with the scent of chocolate and roses.
Naraqe took a final look around for the cat, which had vanished. “Who did you say you were again?”
“Didn’t say,” she replied.
“I thought you did.”
“I didn’t. The author isn’t calling me by my proper name.”
Naraqe blinked. “You can hear narrators too?”
“No, but it’s a logical deduction.” She shrugged. “I’m Lyrane.”
Naraqe nodded, and offered her left hand to Lyrane’s great confusion. To offer your left hand in a friendly handshake generally confuses the person who has to accept the hand proffered unless they’re a lefty by heart. Naraqe knew this. She just enjoyed irritating people greatly. “I’m Naraqe.”
“Hi.” Lyrane finally sorted out her hands and took the offered left hand, shaking it firmly.
“About those cookies?” Naraqe asked pointedly.
“Sure thing.” Lyrane took the lead and led her back towards 1138 Westmark Avenue again, all the while wondering whether luring the cat with cookies would work, or if her Wool of Doom was lost forever. She wouldn’t have doubted the latter. Every time someone she had known had made an all powerful artifact of great magical use, it had either been stolen, vanished mysteriously, been borrowed by a powerful wizard, or backfired at the last possible moment.
She doubted the elf would sympathize with her case, however. The elf seemed far more interested in the idea of eating cookies than taking over the world. But then, Lyrane reasoned, cookies seemed a lovely idea in themself.
**
****
Woo! Now our lovely two female heroines have met. Well. Two of them. Amber still hasn't, and I'm at 44 230 words. *falls over* Next update will include the entirety of Chapter Six I think.
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Saturday, November 19, 2005
The rest of chapter four, and most of chapter five. (grins) Meet Lyrane, humans.
WOO!
**
Trailing through the dusty streets of Serenor, the elf queen sought a merchant selling chocolate cake. Cake felt as if it would be a good idea. At least her stomach agreed avidly that it felt like a good idea to balance off the apple, which had been the last thing she had ate. And that had been at least an hour ago now.
And perhaps some tea to go with it, she thought. Some nice herbal tea.
Naraqe was a bit satisfied that Leron had agreed to come with her. At least, that was the impression she had gotten from the dialogue with him. And she doubted that he would insist on trying to deny his agreement to go along with her into the Inner Realm Archives if she gave him a nasty enough look.
Leron and Naraqe were not related, married, or otherwise very close significant others to each other. He was not her mentor, nor was she his servant. Their relationship had been merely a business relationship between two royals at one time. And then it had expanded into a slight friendship between the emotionless Leron and the hopeless romantic Naraqe. They didn’t like each other much, but they did both trust each other.
And it wasn’t as if either of them had never saved the other’s life. She owed him her life ten times over, and he nearly as likewise to her.
The elf nearly crashed into a rather tall metal pole with several dints in it, one of which looked remarkably like a little ‘; P’. She found that almost weirdly amusing. But pausing from the near collision with the strange pole she glanced over and observed with great joy a merchant selling various tea cakes of interesting colors and flavors. A strong feeling of elation settled over her heart, and she grasped her purse as she walked over to him.
Her purse was magically protected by a series of fire runes, threatening the hands of anyone who would’ve tried to pickpocket her. This was affirmed by the smoking fingers of a nearby human boy, shrieking about his fingers being eaten alive by a rogue leather handbag.
Naraqe nodded once, and turned to the merchant to buy a chocolate cake. Five minutes later, after an interesting dialogue concerning why the merchent’s fingers were slightly shorter than normal, and clearly burnt, she found herself walking away cheerfully with a chocolate cake.
I will have your cake, humans...“Wait!” She turned at the frantic cry of the merchant behind her, having just glanced down at the markings of the packages of the cakes, and noticing one certain pattern missing in his sudden nonplused reaction to her interrogation about his smoking fingers and her purse.
“Ye-e-e-e-e-s?”
“That cake... it’s... it’s...”
“It’s?” she inquired, taking on a fragement of Leron’s tone for a bare moment of her inflection. She glanced down at the cake, having already licked off some of the icing.
“It’s... er... never mind,” he muttered.
Naraqe nodded and turned to carry on walking. About twenty seconds later she found herself nearly choking on a very non cake flavored object as it connected with her teeth and refused to crush. The elf narrowed her eyes, and carefully fished a little box out of her mouth from the back of her molars.
That’s not cake.
Or incredibly edible cheese either, she thought wryly. Glancing around to make certain no one was attempting to shadow her at the moment, she pried it open and revealed a message scribbled in very tiny runes.
Very likely a horse rental contract paper writer wrote this, Naraqe reasoned, squinting at it. The elf didn’t have any dramatic and incredible vision advantages just from her race. In fact, she was slightly nearsighted. The page was just as hard to read as it would’ve been for everyone else. But after a little bit of deciphering around the places where saliva had worked its way in around her tooth shaped indents, she managed to make out the following message.
1138 Westmark Avenue
1400 hours
Secret PasswordShe considered this, and decided to guess that it was a location, a time, and a secret password. Swordfish was the most often used secret password when someone wanted no one to guess, it seemed, so clearly someone had decided to be smart for once. As everyone would clearly decide to guess the obviously unobvious password first, why not go with the totally obvious password that no one would ever guess.
I like whoever wrote that, she decided.
Contemplating it for a moment longer, she decided that it was obviously meant for someone involved in the heart of a top secret conspiracy in an attempt to overthrow the present government and set a cruel Overlord in command with all his Legions of Terror to control the population.
Obviously meaning that everyone would suffer. And I’ll probably be killed, since I’m part of the present government, even if the king’s far more important...Naraqe considered this.
She didn’t think it would be particularly fun to be killed off just because of an evil and top secret conspiracy to set the Overlord of All Evil Power on the throne. For that matter, it didn’t feel like it would be fun to be killed for any purpose, malicious or otherwise. Considering that the clue had just fallen into her hands, she decided it would be a good idea to go to 1138 Westmark Ave. and see what was going on.
But after she ate her cake.
She considered the rest of the chocolate cake, and sat down to finish eating it. Chocolate cakes were good.
Far better than ridiculously named chapters about cheese which had absolutely nothing to do with cheese!**
Chapter Five: The Overlor...er?
**
1138 Westmark Avenue, Serenor**
An annoyed Lyrane stared at the object in her hand. “A ball of wool?”
“Why yes, Overlor...er...” Her companion hesitated. “M’lady.”
She sighed aloud, and handed it back to him. “A ball of wool? Why?”
“Well, you wanted your weapon to look inconspicuous, did you not, m’lady?” he asked hesitantly.
Lyrane stared at the ball of gray wool. She wore light pink robes, a tunic and pants of a similar shade. Her hair was loose, and looked as if it could’ve used a bit of hair gel to keep it from falling apart. Her eyes were a deep brown, and she wore fluffy bunny slippers on her feet. “Well, of course I did,” she growled.
“So thus I have created the Wool of Doom!” her companion exclaimed, waving one hand melodramatically into the air and humming a few bars of melodramatic theme music.
“That’s just
wrong, you know,” she noted dryly.
“Why, yes,” he said agreeably, backing towards the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, m’lady, I have to get back to my pizza business...”
“Pizza business,” she muttered, and held her hand out for the Wool of Doom. He handed it over to her quickly, and whirled for the door. As ultimately evil as she was, Lyrane just let him go, to a very relieved expression from the wizard, turning the Wool of Doom over in her hands.
About five seconds later, there was a loud clonk, and the wizard fell backwards, half of his body in the room, and the other half on the other side of the door. A rather large lump throbbed on top of his head, and he moaned before twitching a couple times and lying still.
“And that is my Medal Pole of Terror,” Lyrane said cheerfully. “The rather large metal object that just met up with your head.”
The wizard stirred, and groaned. “Metal.”
“What?” She placed the ball of wool down and stood up to a full and dramatic height of five feet, one inch.
“It’s metal,” he muttered.
“
What?!”
“Medal is one of those things you hang around your neck...”
“Maybe that’s just what I want you to think,” she said flatly, and grabbed his arm. No one knows what would’ve happened after this point had not a shrill buzz carved its way through the tensely thick air. Lyrane immediately reacted, pulling herself upright and whirling towards a partly open door. “Blast!”
The wizard sat up, rubbing his head. “Blast what?”
“My cookies are done! Stay right there!”
He didn’t, of course, immediately dashing for the door. Another five seconds later he connected to the Medal Pole of Terror again, and fell over, completely unconscious this time. One of Lyrane’s Legions of Terror dashed in and dragged the wizard off. As he was the founder of the Runeite Pizza Parlor (delivery in thirty minute guaranteed, or your money back), and one of the most powerful wizards in the entirety of Endyr, she was rather torn on whether it would be better to kill him.
Considering that magical artifacts had this tendency to backfire as soon as their creator was destroyed, she reasoned that it would be safer to leave him among the living until she figured out how to create zombie anything’s beyond kittens, gerbils, small mice, and parrots. And she didn’t have that many incredible magic users working under her. Magic users tended to immediately rebel and attempt to overthrow you as soon as you had done all the dirty work.
No, mercenaries could just be paid off, and they sometimes had a few decent magic users. And peasants would often work for decent living quarters, fresh food, and no evil slave masters over them to keep them “in line”.
Removing the cookies from the oven, she left them to cool down as she contemplated world domination. At least, she would have, had not a cute little kitten appeared in the corner of the room, and latched onto her ball of wool. Or, more rightly, the Wool of Doom.
Within 2.333333... seconds, the world had reached an instable point due to an impossible repeating number bringing about an infinite number of repeating paradoxes, and reality grew blurry. Reality exploded, bringing about the end of everything sentient kind had ever known.
THE ENDWhat? Why are you all looking at me like that?
You didn’t want it to end without knowing why they were after the sleeping princess?
You
wanted to know if Essar and Amber fell in love in the end?
But
why?
Oh,
sheesh! Stop waving that sword around so threateningly.
**
However, as it wasn’t the story’s time to die out, time winged backwards about 2.333333... seconds, and the kitten vanished with the Wool of Doom, leaving a horrified looking Lyrane to stare at the space where the kitten had once stood.
She let a moment stand for the occurrence to sink in. Then she whirled towards the door and dashed after the kitten with a small dagger in hand.
It wasn’t exactly something easy to do, to run in bunny slippers. But somehow Lyrane managed to pull it off.
***
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