A week went by and I was not here, instead Selk'Tar'Oth walked for a time in my body. There was little I could do but I could see it all. I curse my body for being so powerless against her, or is it powerful because of her. No matter.... this thing that is entangled with my brain, capillaries, nervous system, and soul might be the death of me.
She took the innocence away from my beloved Librarians, tore them out to the city for hell bent disgusting activities. She went and threatened the church, even Denny and she wished to congratulate the new Shadow Lord... one whom I have even yet to meet,
She pushed Wotan into a battle of wits among countless others, she ruined my body with so much activity.... though unfortunately this city appeased her and she will not leave it yet as she had planned. She knows there is still something there.... I feel it as well...
I feel my mental capacity is fading, I cannot tell which way is up or down, left or right, good or evil. My head still swims in the toxic ocean and think I left the kettle on. Needless to say Selk'Tar'Oth has left me lost and very confused.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
An age of change
The dust is clearing. settling slowly and I am left still in the dark.. I do not know what it is that happened in this city but it feels as though an earthquake as shaken its very roots. There are citizen meandering about calling out names that go unanswered.
Finally I step back to the library, the on place that seemed spared. I walk through its doors finding a strange glowing glyph on the floor and books circling about. The walls rattle as a voice swells and I can feel an energy from the second floor.
I do not hear or feel Denenthorn around in this place... again there is a presence... someone... or something is missing, but I cannot lay my finger upon what it was... it seemed stronger yesterday and that it had a name... but today... oh that was no matter there was a definite disturbance in the library and it was hardly the time to try and remember.
Where in the world was Denny, of this a Toxian marked moment, we needed a leader present and I am incapable of rising to it.
As I stand to face this voice... this presence Jhura is standing, looking defensive but speaking offensively. He calls for the voice to show itself and I am too busy tilting my head in wonderment to tell him that I recognize it as Lorne. It is only when he pops into existence that I remember my notes of him.
Jhura draws his weapon, ready to take his head off and I raise my own hand, asking him to wait. This is no time to be chopping off heads of friends, this is a time when we must band together to create a logical conclusion to everything that has shaken this city.
At my asking he holds back, Lorne is explained in the quickest way to Jhura but it is then I beg for Lorne to speak. His eyevoids lock a moment on me, a case where a long time ago I would have shuttered, change can make the weakest bold.
Lorne speaks, his voice neither of care or hurtful intention. He speaks of something that I hardly understand, weylines... and things planted so long ago when the End still took solace in these walls. My head was swimming... I had to step out.
Now I must find my own answers. I must ask Denny and ask Lorne what has become of the library and who I should follow. Denny is my leader, always has been and Lorne... most respected but always to be with the Coven... I know they both had such strong ties to the library, but it was before my time... I only have stories to go from... I need first hand facts now or I may never be able to settle.
All at once this has come crashing in upon myself and my librarians... I owe them an explanation. For all that they have done for me, I owe them at least a story. Perhaps it is something the Masters proclaimed, it would not be the first time they kept secrets from me... and if that is the case I will stand my post lest I be killed for abandoning it, or my time has ended and it is one for the Master to hand me my last syringe, I hope to spare my life at least.
One more story, either to my own end or my beginning with so many more.
Finally I step back to the library, the on place that seemed spared. I walk through its doors finding a strange glowing glyph on the floor and books circling about. The walls rattle as a voice swells and I can feel an energy from the second floor.
I do not hear or feel Denenthorn around in this place... again there is a presence... someone... or something is missing, but I cannot lay my finger upon what it was... it seemed stronger yesterday and that it had a name... but today... oh that was no matter there was a definite disturbance in the library and it was hardly the time to try and remember.
Where in the world was Denny, of this a Toxian marked moment, we needed a leader present and I am incapable of rising to it.
As I stand to face this voice... this presence Jhura is standing, looking defensive but speaking offensively. He calls for the voice to show itself and I am too busy tilting my head in wonderment to tell him that I recognize it as Lorne. It is only when he pops into existence that I remember my notes of him.
Jhura draws his weapon, ready to take his head off and I raise my own hand, asking him to wait. This is no time to be chopping off heads of friends, this is a time when we must band together to create a logical conclusion to everything that has shaken this city.
At my asking he holds back, Lorne is explained in the quickest way to Jhura but it is then I beg for Lorne to speak. His eyevoids lock a moment on me, a case where a long time ago I would have shuttered, change can make the weakest bold.
Lorne speaks, his voice neither of care or hurtful intention. He speaks of something that I hardly understand, weylines... and things planted so long ago when the End still took solace in these walls. My head was swimming... I had to step out.
Now I must find my own answers. I must ask Denny and ask Lorne what has become of the library and who I should follow. Denny is my leader, always has been and Lorne... most respected but always to be with the Coven... I know they both had such strong ties to the library, but it was before my time... I only have stories to go from... I need first hand facts now or I may never be able to settle.
All at once this has come crashing in upon myself and my librarians... I owe them an explanation. For all that they have done for me, I owe them at least a story. Perhaps it is something the Masters proclaimed, it would not be the first time they kept secrets from me... and if that is the case I will stand my post lest I be killed for abandoning it, or my time has ended and it is one for the Master to hand me my last syringe, I hope to spare my life at least.
One more story, either to my own end or my beginning with so many more.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
A year come and gone.
One year in Toxia, or would it be best said one mile... Approximately how many miles I have walked in this city I have not a clue. I have met many friends, many enemies, and have done away with filth that I cannot stand. I have risen above, fallen far below, and have come to level out where I am. I can say that this place is strange how much I loathe it, yet find myself living out each day here to the best of my ability.
While my time is becoming more constrained due to a sense of over establishment with my quantumn personality, I have stepped down from second in command but I will keep to the library in my best capacities as it is the only place I may call home.
I must admit, it will be nice to breathe without Denenthorn hanigng over my head, he has just moved to my shoulder which suits me well enough.
The library is changing once more, this time I feel it is for the better. We have so many new faces, so many new things to witness, I want to watch it grow and I think the librarians want to see this as well. With my step down I can only think that the library will step up as a whole.
I am... interested to see what this shift will do with the rest of the city.
While my time is becoming more constrained due to a sense of over establishment with my quantumn personality, I have stepped down from second in command but I will keep to the library in my best capacities as it is the only place I may call home.
I must admit, it will be nice to breathe without Denenthorn hanigng over my head, he has just moved to my shoulder which suits me well enough.
The library is changing once more, this time I feel it is for the better. We have so many new faces, so many new things to witness, I want to watch it grow and I think the librarians want to see this as well. With my step down I can only think that the library will step up as a whole.
I am... interested to see what this shift will do with the rest of the city.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Death again
I was stabbed.... a most unusual feeling thought it hardly lasted long. Before I knew it I was back in the waiting room, waiting. It seemed a bit brighter this time and once more nothing was there for a long time. It seemed like years until Selk'Tar'Oth came to me. She sauntered to me and crosses her arms, looking down at me shaking her head.
"You are trouble..." she said to me.
"Yes, you give me more trouble though I am sure." I replied.
"No... I have curbed my wants to respect to you and what I have seen of your... friends. We made an agreement, we will keep to it as long as you uphold your end of the deal."
I looked at her in confusion shaking my head, "But you have not even told me what that is."
"One knows, that is all that is required." she grinned at me, bending down to meet my gaze as her fingers traced over my curling creeping tattoos. "Have you ever looked closely at these? Do you remember ever receiving them? Do you remember anything about them?" she asked knowingly.
I looked down and shook my head, "You control my subconscious and my memories... you can only tell me what is truth, what I remember, what my past is... even if you twist it to your whim."
She cackled and let her long fingers curl around my hand. "Have one of those metal men look at you more closely, then you might have a lead." she chittered and suddenly tugged my hand. She fiercely pulled my hand into herself and again I was met with light and breath. In my head lingered, "Your knight needs you."
I opened my eyes to again see my reviver, Denenthorn standing over me. My head is swimming still... I remember the assault and I have handled it the way I do, by not showing anything.
However, an attack is not so uncommon, what is uncommon is that there was no known motive... all we have of any lead is a plastic rose... I fear this will be difficult to solve.
"You are trouble..." she said to me.
"Yes, you give me more trouble though I am sure." I replied.
"No... I have curbed my wants to respect to you and what I have seen of your... friends. We made an agreement, we will keep to it as long as you uphold your end of the deal."
I looked at her in confusion shaking my head, "But you have not even told me what that is."
"One knows, that is all that is required." she grinned at me, bending down to meet my gaze as her fingers traced over my curling creeping tattoos. "Have you ever looked closely at these? Do you remember ever receiving them? Do you remember anything about them?" she asked knowingly.
I looked down and shook my head, "You control my subconscious and my memories... you can only tell me what is truth, what I remember, what my past is... even if you twist it to your whim."
She cackled and let her long fingers curl around my hand. "Have one of those metal men look at you more closely, then you might have a lead." she chittered and suddenly tugged my hand. She fiercely pulled my hand into herself and again I was met with light and breath. In my head lingered, "Your knight needs you."
I opened my eyes to again see my reviver, Denenthorn standing over me. My head is swimming still... I remember the assault and I have handled it the way I do, by not showing anything.
However, an attack is not so uncommon, what is uncommon is that there was no known motive... all we have of any lead is a plastic rose... I fear this will be difficult to solve.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Thusly
The times have been rough. All that seems to be on anyone's lips are I need to speak with... blank. Or there is no one in the library when .... blah. Really now, there are not so many librarians in the city, we cannot be there all the time, we are only volunteers to this city... we do not get paid, in fact were threatened daily. Goodness, it is high risk being a citizen, it seems as though it is even worse being a librarian. We have a price for information, just as any one else would charge for a service... we cannot be expected to just give out information willy nilly... or just as easily as one seems to have the ability to find a drink in the bar...
But really... one would threaten the library or a librarian when there is little left to threat? The building has stood for years before and will stand after. Anyone harmed can be mended in some way, save for the few that seem to truely die and disappear, it was simply their time. The whole threat angle steadily becomes less and less of a concern... one cannot gather information from a dead person as is someone is less willing to give out information when something is amiss.
Why do the citizens not just come politely, get what we ask for in return of information and leave? It is really a simple policy that many seem able to abide by
and has worked in the past, why are there still a few that continue to fight? I must admit it is much like bashing one's head against a post as they seem to turn
a deaf ear.
*Reads back a bit*
Goodness, perhaps Toxia has changed my outlook on things. I suppose however, one can only expect personalities to rub off upon another, Denenthorn would be no exception towards me... he has shown me an amount of bravery in words, even if there is a bit of hiding involved with it; I am no fool.
A most strange occurance though, Dio has shown me something of great value, a very strange book intended for memories. It is a wonderment that he has established it this far however, he owes me two books still in return for the one he has changed. I will have to remember to go to him and collect that which is rightfully mine.
It is also most strange that when the library is open nearly 24/7 how when we close it for twenty minutes that is the time everyone wishes to enter it.
I have so much more to write, but the time is for rest now.
But really... one would threaten the library or a librarian when there is little left to threat? The building has stood for years before and will stand after. Anyone harmed can be mended in some way, save for the few that seem to truely die and disappear, it was simply their time. The whole threat angle steadily becomes less and less of a concern... one cannot gather information from a dead person as is someone is less willing to give out information when something is amiss.
Why do the citizens not just come politely, get what we ask for in return of information and leave? It is really a simple policy that many seem able to abide by
and has worked in the past, why are there still a few that continue to fight? I must admit it is much like bashing one's head against a post as they seem to turn
a deaf ear.
*Reads back a bit*
Goodness, perhaps Toxia has changed my outlook on things. I suppose however, one can only expect personalities to rub off upon another, Denenthorn would be no exception towards me... he has shown me an amount of bravery in words, even if there is a bit of hiding involved with it; I am no fool.
A most strange occurance though, Dio has shown me something of great value, a very strange book intended for memories. It is a wonderment that he has established it this far however, he owes me two books still in return for the one he has changed. I will have to remember to go to him and collect that which is rightfully mine.
It is also most strange that when the library is open nearly 24/7 how when we close it for twenty minutes that is the time everyone wishes to enter it.
I have so much more to write, but the time is for rest now.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Learning
Though I spent years, nearly a century and a half learning from books in limbo, it does not compare to practical establishment and implementation of knowledge.
I might be noted to have knowledge of everything or anything under the sun however my experience with people is lacking. I have manipulation at my finger tips however, I can be just as easily manipulated. I prefer the former to the latter personally, however there have been occasions where the latter has proven to be profitable.
I have not ignored you so much as I have gotten busy with the city. It seems to flourish a new each day, we have new librarians come in, we have a few leave, but none leave as detrimentally as one. He was working in our stead, it should have been standard book retrieval however the identity of the one in question was mistaken.
The Reckoning seem to be out for blood over this mistake, yet it is they who offended us. They stole from my precious library, no permission was given, I do not even know how they were able to find the books they aquired as the file system is scrambled for that very reason.
Regardless it happened, what more are we expected to than hire someone to retrieve that which we cannot? However they captured him and tortured ihm for information, about who had sent him. Just like any good mercenary he took his information to the grave.
But he is needed. Thusly it was taken by Denenthorn and myself to resurrect him. He is with us once more but in a badly weakened state. His voice has not returned, better still I am in claim of his memories. I will turn them over to Pontifex once more since he has greater dealings with such things.
To trace back my steps a bit, Pontifex has shown me his drink. He had shown me his wine, made that of lust, innocence, and loss once before but this drink was his own. I took my sip ever=so=gently and I will never be the same for it. I dare not write what I saw, for if this would get into the wrong hands, only I should be the one to suffer. However, I can say that I feel more him more deeply than I had before. He and I share more in common with each other than I could ever have realized without it.
That night I gave him a small portion of my story, that which only my brother knows of and even then I think he would deny it.
((Following are logs taken from the South East Bar))
[23:33] Felice Nightfire nods, "Quite yes, at the moment I do." she tilts her head, "Go ahead?" she looks a bit shocked, "You wish to hear it?"
[23:34] Pontifex Jenvieve nods, "If you're welling to tell..."
[23:38] Felice Nightfire sips the last of her wine setting the glass on the table as she nods once, "It is a story but only as far as I understand it... but not far enough in many parts." she tents her fingers over her lap, her eyes brightening with the renewed taste of the wine, fading slowly as she speaks, "I was born... long enough ago. I grew up near here... closer to the North, but none the less lived fairly normal. My father worked as an archeologist, my mother as a sunday school teacher, my brother had his school and his friends but I had my artist pad and charcoal."
[23:40] Pontifex Jenvieve listens, closing his eyes as he attempts to picture her words in grimy black and white.
[23:43] Felice Nightfire "I did not have much need for school then, I was about seven, my brother would watch me out of the corner of his eye since father was off on a dig somewhere out by what might be known now as India..." she thinks, tapping the table cloth, "Father came home and given me my pocket watch.... his pocket watch.... something had happened on the dig, he said that they found something unusual, unexplainable caverns, he hardly slept ont he journey." she shakes her head, "His eyes were dead when I looked at him to welcome him home, but he handed me the watch and his eyes livened." she says slowly, her wings tucking more tightly against her.
[23:46] Felice Nightfire "I was very little then.... very weak." she nods and looks to him for a long while, her eyes seeing to study him, "But I could see more than anyone else, I know what is out there, and it does not care about us." she states and breathes a little harder, her eyebrows creasing deeply as she looks away, holding her head and inhaling deeply. "Long..... very long story short.... my father and mother put me into the hospital." she gesutres behind her towards the beach a bit, "And I lived there until my love could remove me and take me somewhere descent."
[23:46] Pontifex Jenvieve opens his eyes briefly, to see if she had the pocket watch out as she told the story, then closed his eyes once more picturing the India dig.
[23:52] Felice Nightfire "He moves me into a nice flat, it was small but it was what could be afforded by him and he went to work at the factory." she says her lips pursing a bit tightly a moment. "I was able to draw more freely there... but I got so much worse." she sighs heavily, "I could not help my work, I was not conscious of the world.... my love.... got frustrated." she says and looks into her palms, rubbing at the ink there shaking her head again, "He got very angry and... decided .... must have decided to be merciful... to end my life..." she says sounding a bit forced on it.
[23:54] Pontifex Jenvieve opens his eyes to look at her as she speaks of her death. He takes another breath and lets his eyes fall to the table cloth.
[23:56] Felice Nightfire sighs deeply and sits back, "He decided to take a lead pipe to my head three times... and three was enough." she says with a bit of a shrug. She doesn't seem to notice a thin line of deep red, near black liquid drip down the front of her forhead very slowly, like chilled molassas. "Limbo was not so bad.... coming back and learning what I had missed was difficult... as well as emotional capacities."
I might be noted to have knowledge of everything or anything under the sun however my experience with people is lacking. I have manipulation at my finger tips however, I can be just as easily manipulated. I prefer the former to the latter personally, however there have been occasions where the latter has proven to be profitable.
I have not ignored you so much as I have gotten busy with the city. It seems to flourish a new each day, we have new librarians come in, we have a few leave, but none leave as detrimentally as one. He was working in our stead, it should have been standard book retrieval however the identity of the one in question was mistaken.
The Reckoning seem to be out for blood over this mistake, yet it is they who offended us. They stole from my precious library, no permission was given, I do not even know how they were able to find the books they aquired as the file system is scrambled for that very reason.
Regardless it happened, what more are we expected to than hire someone to retrieve that which we cannot? However they captured him and tortured ihm for information, about who had sent him. Just like any good mercenary he took his information to the grave.
But he is needed. Thusly it was taken by Denenthorn and myself to resurrect him. He is with us once more but in a badly weakened state. His voice has not returned, better still I am in claim of his memories. I will turn them over to Pontifex once more since he has greater dealings with such things.
To trace back my steps a bit, Pontifex has shown me his drink. He had shown me his wine, made that of lust, innocence, and loss once before but this drink was his own. I took my sip ever=so=gently and I will never be the same for it. I dare not write what I saw, for if this would get into the wrong hands, only I should be the one to suffer. However, I can say that I feel more him more deeply than I had before. He and I share more in common with each other than I could ever have realized without it.
That night I gave him a small portion of my story, that which only my brother knows of and even then I think he would deny it.
((Following are logs taken from the South East Bar))
[23:33] Felice Nightfire nods, "Quite yes, at the moment I do." she tilts her head, "Go ahead?" she looks a bit shocked, "You wish to hear it?"
[23:34] Pontifex Jenvieve nods, "If you're welling to tell..."
[23:38] Felice Nightfire sips the last of her wine setting the glass on the table as she nods once, "It is a story but only as far as I understand it... but not far enough in many parts." she tents her fingers over her lap, her eyes brightening with the renewed taste of the wine, fading slowly as she speaks, "I was born... long enough ago. I grew up near here... closer to the North, but none the less lived fairly normal. My father worked as an archeologist, my mother as a sunday school teacher, my brother had his school and his friends but I had my artist pad and charcoal."
[23:40] Pontifex Jenvieve listens, closing his eyes as he attempts to picture her words in grimy black and white.
[23:43] Felice Nightfire "I did not have much need for school then, I was about seven, my brother would watch me out of the corner of his eye since father was off on a dig somewhere out by what might be known now as India..." she thinks, tapping the table cloth, "Father came home and given me my pocket watch.... his pocket watch.... something had happened on the dig, he said that they found something unusual, unexplainable caverns, he hardly slept ont he journey." she shakes her head, "His eyes were dead when I looked at him to welcome him home, but he handed me the watch and his eyes livened." she says slowly, her wings tucking more tightly against her.
[23:46] Felice Nightfire "I was very little then.... very weak." she nods and looks to him for a long while, her eyes seeing to study him, "But I could see more than anyone else, I know what is out there, and it does not care about us." she states and breathes a little harder, her eyebrows creasing deeply as she looks away, holding her head and inhaling deeply. "Long..... very long story short.... my father and mother put me into the hospital." she gesutres behind her towards the beach a bit, "And I lived there until my love could remove me and take me somewhere descent."
[23:46] Pontifex Jenvieve opens his eyes briefly, to see if she had the pocket watch out as she told the story, then closed his eyes once more picturing the India dig.
[23:52] Felice Nightfire "He moves me into a nice flat, it was small but it was what could be afforded by him and he went to work at the factory." she says her lips pursing a bit tightly a moment. "I was able to draw more freely there... but I got so much worse." she sighs heavily, "I could not help my work, I was not conscious of the world.... my love.... got frustrated." she says and looks into her palms, rubbing at the ink there shaking her head again, "He got very angry and... decided .... must have decided to be merciful... to end my life..." she says sounding a bit forced on it.
[23:54] Pontifex Jenvieve opens his eyes to look at her as she speaks of her death. He takes another breath and lets his eyes fall to the table cloth.
[23:56] Felice Nightfire sighs deeply and sits back, "He decided to take a lead pipe to my head three times... and three was enough." she says with a bit of a shrug. She doesn't seem to notice a thin line of deep red, near black liquid drip down the front of her forhead very slowly, like chilled molassas. "Limbo was not so bad.... coming back and learning what I had missed was difficult... as well as emotional capacities."
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Forget for loss
*There appear to be a few torn pages here along with ink smattering the edges of the pages left*
What this has left me with is a false sense of hope for this city and its people. I can hardly say that the holidays and the promise of the new year bring little comfort. The beings that would call themselves citizens have not a clue of what lies ahead. There will be blood staining the streets before the turn and I will not be there to clean up after them.
What this has left me with is a false sense of hope for this city and its people. I can hardly say that the holidays and the promise of the new year bring little comfort. The beings that would call themselves citizens have not a clue of what lies ahead. There will be blood staining the streets before the turn and I will not be there to clean up after them.
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