#storystart

[uppsnappat]

Damp disparity

[storystartsstuff-blog]

Shadow Riders Pt.1

Fear. It’s in all of us whatever it is we all have fear. It’s a powerful emotion one that can turn the giantess of men into small boys. Such power it is to have fear on your side. That was one thing we had. Fear. Fear of the men who ride in black who creep through the night who kill all they see. Fear of the army who with a swift nod of a head could wipe out towns and cities. Fear of the brothers who control these men. Bust most of all fear for the Shadows.

The large door squeaked open and I was relived of my day dreaming, my chambers were modest after all this was but a small stronghold we had forged from an old village that wasn’t needed anymore. “Brother” I smiled and stood up going to meet him he was shorter than me but was very well built. His long brown hair was hanging off his head his uniform of all black was pristine and his sword hung purposely from his side. He shook my hand before saying, “Brother we must leave immediately we have a meeting with the king,” I frowned. “Are you sure this isn’t a setup, he knows we hate him and I’m sure our feelings our mutual,” he shrugged his stocky shoulders as I turned to grab my sword. Unlike the rest of the army me and my brother didn’t believe in armour instead we simply war a leather tunic with similar trousers, of course they had to be died black. I picked it up and slipped it over my white baggy shirt, it was well tight and well fitted. My sword which mistakenly I had already picked up was now lying in the window, again I picked it up and ran my hand down the leather casing it had three words engraved into the handle, Fear, Pride, Honour. The three traits of a soldier that our dad taught us. “Let’s go,” I said as my brother opened the heavy oak door and we began walking down the large corridor down to the stables. “So are you going to tell me what has happened or do I have to guess?” I looked at him and smiled. He carried on looking forward, straight faced eyes focused. Whatever this was it was serious. “The king,” He paused, checking i was listening. “has asked us to go to Elmador, he wants to discuss a job with us, one that his army can’t perform for ... political reasons, I’ll show you the letter once we get to Thargo.” I nodded “very well,” we walked in silence before he said, “Brother I fear the king is up to something, I fear we are not helping him, but endangering ourselves,” he spoke hesitantly and almost quatiously.  The walking had now stopped and we stood facing each other his hazel eyes staring deep into mine, for the first time in the 18 years I had known him this was the first time ever he looked like this. He looked. Afraid. “Look,” I began carefully choosing my words, trying not to distress my already anxious brother, my hand upon his broad shoulder. “we will take troops with us, 50 of the best, we will station them outside the castle walls and warn him that if he tries anything foolish these men will bring Elmador to the ground,” he could sense the rage in my voice and nodded. “Very well ill have Filik assemble 50 troops to meet us at Thargo by sundown.” I smiled and placed my arm on his shoulder “Come on lets leave we don’t want to be late,” I smirked and walked off, reluctantly he followed. 

[storystartsstuff-blog]

Gonna try something

Please tell me what you think and if I should carry on and any suggestions, will try to do one as often as possible, or continue with one if it gets enough intrest thanks. 

~TP

The morning was grey and bleak, the clouds hid the sun and left and eerie feeling to the world, a world that was dark enough without the sky above. Still as my dad used to say ‘every morning has a beauty and that beauty is that we can always make something of it’. I never believed in that saying. I grabbed my jacket did up my tie and left my family house, it was simple and cramped but we got by in it. The walk to school wasn’t too long, but long enough I could listen to enough music to make the morning seem alright, it was the one way I could escape. Every day I would leave ten minutes early, walk through the large park with towering ferns that sheltered you from whatever weather and sit on the wooden bench that overlooked the shimmering lake, it was one of my favourite places in the world. Five minutes sat there looking out at the birds dancing and singing and the fish leaping out the water before disappearing into the depths just started the day right.

As I walked through the park getting a splattering of drops as they cascaded through the canopy of trees, I noticed a man sat on the bench. Normally this would be a normal thing but I’m sure that the only two people who knew this bench existed where me and my dad. I was about to turn and leave before a voice said my name quietly almost reassuringly, his voice was deep yet soft like a voice you’ve always known but are yet to discover. “I’ve been waiting for you Zac, why don’t you come take a seat,” I paused, my mind was running on overload, how did this man know my name, and know id be here, and how was his voice coming through my headphones! ” slowly and hesitantly I took out my headphones and walked over to him, shakily I let out, “how do you know my-,” he cut me off but I contused my steady approach to him, “Your name, Zac, I’ve been watching you,” I shook my head in disbelief my voice this time was firmer more meaningful, “no you don’t know me this is some kind of prank,” I began to turn and leave before he began speaking, “your name is zachory troddle, everyone calls you by your surname, your mum is lucy troddle, your dad was Andrew troddle, you live in 94 west green aveneue and you go to school at st lukes, you have a playlist that you listen too every morning and a separate one every evening, and your dad had an accident three years ago and you think of him every day,” I paused, stopped walking away and walked up to the bench, “how do you know my dad, and how do you know all this about me?” He turned to look at me his face aged but his eyes were young and wild yet somehow friendly. “Zachory weve been watching you were looking for someone, we have very precise profile, theres only been one person to fit it, and that’s you “

[listfulwander]

This is not the place I want to be.

I'm not sure where I am.

But I feel pretty sure this is not the place I want to be.

I don't know if this the place to start this discussion or if anything will come from it but the point isn't to know the end of the story at the beginning. This is the beginning of something.

What has happened is this realization that I'm wasting away.

A young face today told me today, as we discussed whether anyone could be anything they want, that "some people are just dead, they are just dead inside and there's nothing you can do."

I agreed with her. How can you argue that? And I tried to make the point that, yes, that means some people are incapable, by their own simple efforts, of achieving what they might dream.

Her point was, there's a way, you can find a way, if you really want it, you can find a way. I became so frustrated with her, it was so naively simple and yet, isn't there a hint of truth?

Yes, she is speaking from a place of profound privilege, she's smart, she's extremely attractive, and she's dedicated. She's also surrounded by people who reaffirm her world view - dream it, do it and it will happen. 

I don't believe that applies to everyone but, what I do think is that it applies to many, that some give up before they get going because they are smart enough to be practical, what's the anti-dreamer word (from art to human advancement), realistic. 

That realism can quickly reach into our being and suffocate, with the cold hands that only reality could possess, the very dreams which inspire us, which keep us alive, which grant us the reason for life, the things that help us thrive even if we don't have a tapestry full of tangibles to present to whatever may await our departure from this world.

I can't say what I should be doing or how I'm going to get there but I know I'm wasting. Wasting life, wasting time, wasting away. In our current age the demand isn't survival, this age demands more of us - we must make our own meaning - life, survival, isn't an all encompassing reason to awake.

I find it, on occasion, a reason will visit me, like a butterfly flitting by on some migration, it'll visit, land and before I could possibly capture it, disappear into the distance.

I'm not sure it's right to capture that butterfly but I'd like to find, more butterflies, I'd like to find that place where their visits are not rare, breath-holding, events but wave washing over.

I'm not sure what form this is going to take but if this little nook gives anything, it'll be a place to find that.

A young girl walked past me today, four or five, she had a big gap where a missing front tooth ought to have been. I saw this when she smiled at me and waved without care, her ridiculous penguin hat covering her long brunette hair. Who couldn't smile back?

[deeplanterns]

*writes a thing*

Bax had sailed from the port of Anvil, all the way around Tamriel, stopping in Hammerfell which was uneasy for the Argonian given his past battles with the Dominion, then to High Rock and finally to his destination, the Skyrim Captital of Solitude. The trip was realitively uneventful but he started to feel homesick for Cyrodiil half way through the trip, but his former alliance with the the Legion and his continued belief in the Nine Divines, not the Eight, was starting to get him into hot water with some.

He left his mediocre forge in Anvil, selling most of what he owned, simply to get away from the Dominion and from the heart of the Empire, what he saw now as a sad husk of what it was. He would rather live in the harsh north among the rough Nords, who took their liberty very seriously, then stay in Cyrodiil and have it increasingly suppressed by the Dominion and Empire.

He had to plan exactly what was going to happen in Skyrim before he arrived and as soon as he stepped off the boat, he would enact his plan.  Since his discharge from the Legion he had an increasing interest in Blacksmithing, it was something he could understand and it was something he was good at. So, as a goal for the Nord-height Argonian to pay a visit to the so called Best forge in the province, the Sky Forge, possibly joining the Grey-Mane that ran the forge as an apprentice, at least until he learned what he could to start his own forge. 

The only problem was the trip had drained his funds and the only possessions he had was a sad Iron sword, a pack full of personal belongings and an armorer hammer and then finally, himself. He would have to make the journey to Whitrun by foot, which to him was fine. He had been on worst hikes. All in all it he felt good about his choice to come to Skyrim.

And then a cold rain started, first a few drops and then steadily growing. That dampened his fire a little bit, but he had to hold resolute. In a land like this it was important to keep himself under control. With a loud huff from his nose he turned to head towards the Main City of Solitude.

Deep inside, in the back of his mind a doubt had started to rise, 'I think I might have made a mistake coming here...."

[cadencecrownking]

I'm Gonna Be

I'm gonna be apart of the sun someday, when I am dead and as the sun deteriorates.

[sweet-sammie-rp-blog]

Awkward introduction time? I'm up for it. I'm Samantha.