Raindrops and polynops

It's interesting sometimes, because I forget.

The older I get, the lazier I seem to become with explaining my feelings, reasons, and ideals. I seem to be at the point where I feel it's almost a given that I think this way, and recently I've realised that I just tend to short cut the whole lead up and almost just 'go for the jugular' or the bold point of the idea.

Now I've always been pretty blunt, so this isn't so much like getting to the heart of the matter so much as being like a crazy person shouting at you on the street. Sure that's okay if you know me, but if you don't, most people would get a little wide eyed.

Heck, even I would.

So I find it a little funny, because I might have become a little bit of a crazy person. I didn't really realise I was skipping the explanations until I found myself saying things to people and getting...let's say less than the responses I would usually look for.

I need to not forget the run up, after all, that's what ensures people jump with you. Right?



And finally, let's address the elephant in the room, shall we? Polynop is not a word.

Not yet anyway.

The best thing about life is you get a second chance. Every god damn day.

 Don't run out.

Taufen Hall

So my roleplay character died. Actually the first I've ever lost, at least that I can remember. Something happened when he died though, and even though he was only with me for a short time, I really felt like...he was part of me.

In a way I really didn't expect, I felt like another me had passed away, and it struck me almost like a character from a favoured book perishing. Even closer, perhaps. Which is wild because the roleplay wasn't even the most serious of games. I guess it's a testament to how much my imagination is really a part of me, and how real these people are.

I wrote an end scene, because of course I would :)  There were four of us, Kevah the female half-orc fighter, Sirius the male elven rogue, Flint the male dwarven archer, and myself - Taufen, the human male cleric. We were deep in a set of mining caverns, seeking to rid the mine off the spider infestation that had ground work to a halt and starved the town of precious resources.

Bleeding from innumerable wounds, Taufen sighed as the spider landed with a thud beside him. Kevah had revived just in time, it seemed. But she would need time to get clear, and Taufen couldn't make it past those bristly legs unscathed anyway.
 
The blood dripped from his elbow as he raised his mace again and his voice raised in prayer, not a hymn this time nor a blessing, but a dirge. Bloody saliva flecked from his lips as with a roar he brought the weapon down. The monstrous spider's battered body took the blow head on, and it hissed in pain, though it still stood.

Kevah turned from her sprint to see Taufen faltering, but on the brink of death herself, she knew she would be too late. With one last gambit, she called out the spider's weakpoint, her superior knowledge of war giving her insight where the cleric found only the inevitable. Hearing her words, Taufen rallied to attack the spider's left side - where it was now crippled.
 
But he was too tired. His left leg buckled beneath him and he fell to his knee, even as the blow went wide. Defenseless, he raised his shield against the monster's fangs, but it was twisted away and the bite sank deep into his chest. Taufen fell to the ground, his last sight Kevah's mighty maul staving in the spider's head. He tried to gasp, "Run Kevah, run..!" but couldn't find his voice.
 
The cave was falling to pieces around them. The colossal spider matriarch crashing wildly into everything and anything in blind fear and anger. Though charmed, its lack of sight and the screams of its dying brood only whipped the mother into a frenzy and it ran this way and that, wounding itself and annihilating anything that stepped into its path.
 
"No, you fool! I can't carry you like this!" Kevah roared at the fallen cleric. "Get up and heal me, so I can get us both out of here!" Stalactites and rubble crashed around them, and Kevah was forced to scramble out of the way as one impaled Taufen's leg. Her face grew grimly determined, and she reached out to carry the cleric to safety, cracking her thick arms back into place and spitting blood. "Always comes down to this." She muttered bending down. That was when the boulder hit. Her orcish endurance already spent, Kevah's tough body finally succumbed to the incredible punishment she had taken.
 
Sirius saw her fall. The roguish elf wondered how it had come to this. They had been free and clear, or so they thought, handling the spider infestation in the usual carefree manner they took. Flint getting webbed, Kevah mounting the charmed spiders and having the time of her life, her maul still deadly even as she straddled the vicious creatures, and Sirius himself, darting in from the shadows to cut the scuttling monsters - barely shadows themselves - to pieces. Taufen had his work cut out for him, sure, but they were surviving, as they always did. A little rough and tumble, a little fun on the side, and a dash of danger for spice.
 
Then it had all gone to hell. Sirius blinked past the moment, vaulting the rubble as time caught up to him. "Flint! I could use some help!" Sirius yelled as he easily navigated the maze of fallen debris, his elvish feet finding footing in the most precarious of places. He reached Kevah's side in no time at all. "Come on, you two! Stop sleeping on the..." His words faltered as he saw Taufen, face down in a pool of blood. His chest was crushed under a large piece of rubble and he was not breathing.
 
Sirius's face went grim and quickly he searched the body, looking for anything that could aid them. He stepped aside as another spike crashed down and looked down at his hands that held only two holy symbols. "Fool cleric!" He growled. "Not even a resurrection scroll to get your back on your feet!" He grit his teeth and turned away, no time for the dead now.
 
The frustrating bandages and herbalism he had learned as a child proved scant use in the chaotic scene, even as he dodged rubble the matriarch's screaming set his teeth on edge, and despite his efforts, Kevah's breath remained shallow. In the end, Sirius opted for the half-orc's own technique and, hoisting the warrior unceremoniously to his shoulder, pelted towards safety.
 
At the far end of the cavern, Flint struggled with his bonds, the webbing tying tighter around him with each twist. "By Reorx! I've had bloody enough of this!" He roared, and with a mighty rip, the steel-like webbing tore asunder and he emerged from the cocoon, seething with anger. Sirius pelted towards him, carrying Kevah of all people, and screaming for him to run.
 
Just then, the spider screeched out again, and they scattered as the crazed monstrosity rammed against the wall beside them. "By all the gods, this beast has to die!" Flint roared and opened fire with his longbow, the arrow penetrating deep into the wounded spider's fleshy hide. Sirius dropped his burden and danced aside as the spider turned its milky-white eyes in his direction, and he opened fire with his own crossbow.
 
The two adventurers flanked the beast, peppering it with bolts and arrows as it charged at them. It was Sirius who scored the killing blow, though Kevah's poor body gained a few more bruises before he found an opening. The great beast, bristling arrows and stalactites, finally fell to the ground and was still.
 
Sirius turned and picked up Kevah's unconscious body and, watching every shadow, Flint and he made a mad dash for the exit and the sun they had left what seemed like a lifetime ago.
 
A hundred gold richer, but one man poorer, the trade hadn't been fair this time. Not at all.

Flowers

"You can't do anything for him now! I know you care, but he's likely long gone, and if you follow him you will be too!"
"He's still alive. And you read me wrong, I do care, but this is not about that."
"Then why are you so hellbent on doing this?!"
"Everyone deserves a champion." She looked down at the old silver ring in her hand and her fingers tightened over it. "I'm his."

...and footsteps

"Why do you say that? You are not, and have never been, like that."
"Because it's easier to believe myself a bad man, then to face the truth that I am a good one who does nothing."

Waiting

It was gnarled. Gnarled and old. Of course, that was to be expected of a tree that shaded such an immense area. The hum that emanated from its lengthy branches was almost entirely due to the wildlife contained within, and had little to do with the passing of the wind. Squirrels scampered from branch to branch, seeking out nuts and carefully avoiding the few beehives that hung here and there. The buzzing insects shared the tree with all manner of other bugs, ants being chief among them, though they had most to fear from the hundreds of birds that nested happily in the warm foliage.

An eagle soared high above the tree, while rodents and other small game pelted for cover. Deer grazed quietly nearby, wandering between a small stream that sparkled in the hot mid-afternoon sun and the shade of the great tree, trying to keep cool.

It was perfect, I marveled as I lay on my belly in the tall grass, holding the weapon extended before me. That's why she would come; the Destroyer of worlds. My hands trembled and I prayed once more for strength as the air seemed to shimmer and twist in the sun.

Five minutes, that's all I needed.

Let's Go

I woke up the other day and realised...I am still alive. I made it. I am thirty one years of age and I am still on this good earth.

So my thoughts went in the other direction for once. Not to how old I was getting or how little I've accomplished. Instead, I thought about how long I might still be here. Perhaps another thirty or fourty years. Because I have survived this long I feel I can expect a little more living to come, and instead of thinking that time is running out, I will look forward.

Yes I want to write a book, yes I want to be finished as soon as possible, but what? My life isn't going anywhere else in the meantime. I have time to create. And while that might seem a bold and spoiled kind of statement to make, I don't care. I don't want to care any more because that's just not working. For ten long years I've piled guilt on myself and not only stifling myself but also causing me to lose hope.

But I'm still alive! And every breath I take can be used to shape the future, my future. Sure I could still have a heart attack or be run over by a bus or left for dead in an alley, but what does worrying about that do? I still take care of myself, try to keep myself away from things I know are substantially bad for me, don't take risky shortcuts, and look both ways before crossing the road. Those things won't change.

What will change is this pressure I feel. I don't want to live my life feeling guilty. It is what it is. Feeling guilty about things makes me less productive, so no, I'm not keeping that any more.

My eyes are just on the horizon. The gap bordering tomorrow and the future. The place where I can act and make my future.

Screw everything else.

Soundtrack

I have to laugh.

But first, let's put that tape in and hit rewind. Two decades and a handful of years.

There was always room in the car. Though mashed together in the back more often than not, somehow there was always room. Of course, at that time I was little more than six or seven years of age, and my eldest sibling merely double that.

Four in the back, two in the front, everything I loved all in one place.

Sometimes I think those holidays were less about the destination and more about the journey. Scores of expeditions mark my soul with unrevealed iridescence, waiting for the searchlight of memory to highlight an escaping wonder, bound to betray its fellow jewels in the night.

And now, a little fragment tugs in my grasp. Memories of long drives to which the soundtracks had long since twisted into the shadows, evading my erratic recollections, my blindly searching lights.

But now I have to laugh, for Voyeur (what I had initially entitled this post) is the name of an album whose songs echoed in my mind all this time. A Kim Carnes album my father slapped onto the B side of a tape that would end up playing by the time it became late. By the time we had all started to drift off.

I don't think I ever heard that album from start to finish in one drive.

Now as I listen to those songs I laugh, for I'm not sure how my father thought that appropriate fare for our young ears. Perhaps he considered it just good music (which I'd have to agree with), or perhaps he believed we simply wouldn't understand it. In which case he was right - I'm not sure if I ever asked a digging question about the music, and I asked a lot of questions when I was young. I guess I just fit the lyrics into my young vocabulary, which I'll admit was pretty easy to do.

It does make me think, though. There was quite possibly another side to my father that I never saw, never experienced, would not have understood. Even as I grew, he grew and our lives both changed. I always sensed and occasionally even saw the subtle rogue inside my father, but the side he largely presented to his children was almost infallible. If anything I could accuse him of being less emotional at times, which is a shame, for now I see and realise and remember him in a million different ways.

And he was a cool cat.


Here's to you, dad.