I was born by the two-forked river
Raised by wanderers, homeless and thieves.
Evenings filled with music and dances
Nights slept under roof of leaves
Sing to me Forest; tell your secrets for me
I will never speak against thee.
They came to me; say I am their prophet
Some look for solace, some for fame.
Taking me away; I never spoke one word
It is not I who you need to tame
Taken from the Forest; whisper the secrets for me
I shall never speak against thee.
Maybe one day as my flesh will perish
Some wandering bird finds my bones
Flying back to the Forest I scatter
My grave will not be marcked by stones
Back to the Forest; sing your secrets for me
I did never speak against thee.
Hear my flute play the song of our lives
Telling you the words I never say
Let me mend all your lingering worries
Watch the dance of the golden jay
Sing to me Forest; tell your secrets for me
I will never speak against thee.
Listen to the Forest, telling secrets for thee.
All the things you asked from me.
lauantai 24. joulukuuta 2011
sunnuntai 9. lokakuuta 2011
Burning Fire and Golden Bird
The red lanterns shine gently, mending the shadows, but not warding them off.
People have dressed in fine but comfortable clothing; here, too, the shades of red are playing the majority of the colour scheme.
It is the night of Burning Fire and Golden Bird.
The night of the Newyear in lynianian calender.
Around two weeks from this night the cold rains will start and the winter shall come; world shall fall in deep slumber in the grey sleep.
But for now, everything is still warm and cosy; like a cup of warm tea and golden honey.
Like an ember.
Although the Nowhere officially uses different, twelve month system, the streets near the river are painted red by the lights and the masses of people.
Majority of the crowd is of Kiresian blood who live in the gentle waves of the muddy river on their boathouses. The river, which shadows are now contrasted with red in the both shores, lights reaching far; letting just the smallest line of dark, muddy water between.
But there are people of other ethnics too, not just the Kiresian; lynianian calender is old, after all; and the old habits need more than sixtyone years of corrupted rules to die.
This is the night the ancestors of the people here have celebrated, and so, they will too.
It is in their blood, after all.
Blood as red as the lanterns swingign in the gentle wind.
Air is heavy of the burning incenses; of spices and perfumes. Burn cinnamon, nutmeg, oranges, ginger.
The merchants sell their goods in small booths fast mounted near the river shores; they offer food and jewellry and incenses.
The ones closer the shadows of deep alleys sell things more exotic and potentially dangerous, but facinating nonetheless. The shadows are not good place to be for the tourist; it is better to keep close to the red lanterns.
Of course it is not all about red; there are flashes of amber, sunset orange and gold everywhere to be seen. Even green and royal violet.
The gold is the majoríty among them; colour of jewellry and the small bells tied on the hair and clothes, and so the world of sounds is filled with tingling and clittering; the moving crowd adding it's own living music to the sounds of the drums heard behind everything, when young people dance on the wooden decks of the Kiresian boathouses; tallying and competeing eachother in the skill of dancing.
The most skilled dancer appears only once that night, along with the sound of lonely flute; sound of great beauty and of great sorrow; like the instrument was crying for the lost love.
Perhaps, it is the feeling of the mucician; breathed in life through ivory and old wood.; given a form with skilled, delicate fingers.
People gathering around, but keeping the respectful distance as the dancer, dressed in amber and burning orange and yellow and carmine, steps at the deck of one of the boathouses.
Their hands and feet and ancles and wrists covered in golden jevelry, glittering in the light of the red lanterns, silently jiggling to the gentle steps the dancer takes.
Their face hidden behind golden mask; a mass of fiery red feathers as their hair; a picture of Golden bird.
Unlike the fast dances the young ones have shown; this dance is slow and sensual; drums have gone guiet, and the only sounds beside the crying flute are the steps of the dancer's bare feet on the wooden deck and the jiggling of the jewellry.
The dancer moves; delicate and vulnerable.
Every step, every gesture bears the meaning beyond the obvious.
The funeral song of the Golden bird.
The dance ends in the fire; red veil suddenly gathering around the dancer; the flute crying one sound above everything, and then the dancer is gone.
The funeral pyre of the Golden bird; a night of Burning Fire.
The spell woven over the people is gone; the dance has come to an end, and they all return to their celebration.
Sweet and spicy foods are bought from the small shops, gifts are given, and fast dances start again along the living music of the crowd and the drums.
When the dawn draws near, people return to their families; to spend time with loved ones; with friends; to enjoy feast together.
But underneath this everything there lies the promise; the Bird has died, but will be reborn due the morning light.
The time will flow foward.
Life will go on.
People have dressed in fine but comfortable clothing; here, too, the shades of red are playing the majority of the colour scheme.
It is the night of Burning Fire and Golden Bird.
The night of the Newyear in lynianian calender.
Around two weeks from this night the cold rains will start and the winter shall come; world shall fall in deep slumber in the grey sleep.
But for now, everything is still warm and cosy; like a cup of warm tea and golden honey.
Like an ember.
Although the Nowhere officially uses different, twelve month system, the streets near the river are painted red by the lights and the masses of people.
Majority of the crowd is of Kiresian blood who live in the gentle waves of the muddy river on their boathouses. The river, which shadows are now contrasted with red in the both shores, lights reaching far; letting just the smallest line of dark, muddy water between.
But there are people of other ethnics too, not just the Kiresian; lynianian calender is old, after all; and the old habits need more than sixtyone years of corrupted rules to die.
This is the night the ancestors of the people here have celebrated, and so, they will too.
It is in their blood, after all.
Blood as red as the lanterns swingign in the gentle wind.
Air is heavy of the burning incenses; of spices and perfumes. Burn cinnamon, nutmeg, oranges, ginger.
The merchants sell their goods in small booths fast mounted near the river shores; they offer food and jewellry and incenses.
The ones closer the shadows of deep alleys sell things more exotic and potentially dangerous, but facinating nonetheless. The shadows are not good place to be for the tourist; it is better to keep close to the red lanterns.
Of course it is not all about red; there are flashes of amber, sunset orange and gold everywhere to be seen. Even green and royal violet.
The gold is the majoríty among them; colour of jewellry and the small bells tied on the hair and clothes, and so the world of sounds is filled with tingling and clittering; the moving crowd adding it's own living music to the sounds of the drums heard behind everything, when young people dance on the wooden decks of the Kiresian boathouses; tallying and competeing eachother in the skill of dancing.
The most skilled dancer appears only once that night, along with the sound of lonely flute; sound of great beauty and of great sorrow; like the instrument was crying for the lost love.
Perhaps, it is the feeling of the mucician; breathed in life through ivory and old wood.; given a form with skilled, delicate fingers.
People gathering around, but keeping the respectful distance as the dancer, dressed in amber and burning orange and yellow and carmine, steps at the deck of one of the boathouses.
Their hands and feet and ancles and wrists covered in golden jevelry, glittering in the light of the red lanterns, silently jiggling to the gentle steps the dancer takes.
Their face hidden behind golden mask; a mass of fiery red feathers as their hair; a picture of Golden bird.
Unlike the fast dances the young ones have shown; this dance is slow and sensual; drums have gone guiet, and the only sounds beside the crying flute are the steps of the dancer's bare feet on the wooden deck and the jiggling of the jewellry.
The dancer moves; delicate and vulnerable.
Every step, every gesture bears the meaning beyond the obvious.
The funeral song of the Golden bird.
The dance ends in the fire; red veil suddenly gathering around the dancer; the flute crying one sound above everything, and then the dancer is gone.
The funeral pyre of the Golden bird; a night of Burning Fire.
The spell woven over the people is gone; the dance has come to an end, and they all return to their celebration.
Sweet and spicy foods are bought from the small shops, gifts are given, and fast dances start again along the living music of the crowd and the drums.
When the dawn draws near, people return to their families; to spend time with loved ones; with friends; to enjoy feast together.
But underneath this everything there lies the promise; the Bird has died, but will be reborn due the morning light.
The time will flow foward.
Life will go on.
perjantai 16. syyskuuta 2011
Nowhere
The city has a name, just like all the human cities have.
But the people don't use it, and the new generation will most likely grow up never hearing the name and so it will be forgotten. If people call the city with a name they say "Nowhere", and this name is said with hushed voices, like a name of a lover.
The city is like a woman; lover and mother to us all. Her hair raises in the sky like a brown and dark grey smoke, her thousand eyes look at her children from the lit as well as dark windows of the buildings, she is dressed in the dress like the shadows in the alleys and dead ends, and her mind is fast and restless like the people who live in the arms of her streets. She hides knifes in the pockets of her children and guns under their pillows. She wears jewels like the neon lights, and she sings for you with never ending voice of the sirens, barking of the fighting dogs, music from the bars, the screams of women, shouts of the men, the laughter of the children and the sound of the gunshot from few blocks away.
The city is a reckless and a cruel lover; full of wits of the moment. She'll seduce you with the whispered voices of the whores in the street corners, the hushed words with the courtesan behind the glass. She'll make you drunk with the wink from the dealer in the game board, bewitch you with things you can't find, ("but we happen to have one of those"), showing you the secret parts she hides, like women hides their breasts; all those shady bars, clubs and shops where you can buy anything your heart desires. She will favor you in one moment, give you fame and money and women, and toss your dead body in the dark alley in next. She will kill your family and friends, and then give you your revenge in a silver plate.
But the city is mother to all. She opens her arms for the foreigners as well as for the native ones, her shadowy alleys give a hide for her children, and she will lead the rich people lost in her streets, complex like the mind of a woman; and this way she will feed her children.
People who lives in these streets; in her arms, love her and curse her name. They dream their dreams here and they bleed their blood in these streets.
Many of them have born here.
But every one of them dies here.
But the people don't use it, and the new generation will most likely grow up never hearing the name and so it will be forgotten. If people call the city with a name they say "Nowhere", and this name is said with hushed voices, like a name of a lover.
The city is like a woman; lover and mother to us all. Her hair raises in the sky like a brown and dark grey smoke, her thousand eyes look at her children from the lit as well as dark windows of the buildings, she is dressed in the dress like the shadows in the alleys and dead ends, and her mind is fast and restless like the people who live in the arms of her streets. She hides knifes in the pockets of her children and guns under their pillows. She wears jewels like the neon lights, and she sings for you with never ending voice of the sirens, barking of the fighting dogs, music from the bars, the screams of women, shouts of the men, the laughter of the children and the sound of the gunshot from few blocks away.
The city is a reckless and a cruel lover; full of wits of the moment. She'll seduce you with the whispered voices of the whores in the street corners, the hushed words with the courtesan behind the glass. She'll make you drunk with the wink from the dealer in the game board, bewitch you with things you can't find, ("but we happen to have one of those"), showing you the secret parts she hides, like women hides their breasts; all those shady bars, clubs and shops where you can buy anything your heart desires. She will favor you in one moment, give you fame and money and women, and toss your dead body in the dark alley in next. She will kill your family and friends, and then give you your revenge in a silver plate.
But the city is mother to all. She opens her arms for the foreigners as well as for the native ones, her shadowy alleys give a hide for her children, and she will lead the rich people lost in her streets, complex like the mind of a woman; and this way she will feed her children.
People who lives in these streets; in her arms, love her and curse her name. They dream their dreams here and they bleed their blood in these streets.
Many of them have born here.
But every one of them dies here.
Mother Tree
Mother Trees are ancient trees that form the consciousness of the forest.
Usually forest has one Mother Tree, but large forests, like Great Eastern forest, that really are formed from several smaller forest grown together, can have several.
Mother trees guard and nurture the forest and beings living there.
It is also believed that small forest sprites are first born from the Mothet Trees.
These small spirits later gain purpose and name from the humans, if they are seen often.
The more spesific the name, the more power the spirit has. (ie. "Lake spirit" is small name, with very little power, while "Lake spirit Kosketar" is more spesific, with more power).
Humans, if avare where the local Mother Tree lays, often worship it, and ask for good fortune and safety in forest from them.
Usually forest has one Mother Tree, but large forests, like Great Eastern forest, that really are formed from several smaller forest grown together, can have several.
Mother trees guard and nurture the forest and beings living there.
It is also believed that small forest sprites are first born from the Mothet Trees.
These small spirits later gain purpose and name from the humans, if they are seen often.
The more spesific the name, the more power the spirit has. (ie. "Lake spirit" is small name, with very little power, while "Lake spirit Kosketar" is more spesific, with more power).
Humans, if avare where the local Mother Tree lays, often worship it, and ask for good fortune and safety in forest from them.
Havatar Emopuu
Kaitsija katainen
Tuudittaja tuominen
Honkainen huolenpitäjä
Pihlajainen paimen
Havatar Emopuu is one of the Mother Trees of the Great Eastern forest.
Ancient as she is, it is impossible to tell what kind of tree she is. Moreover, it seems like there might be few trees in her, entwined together to form one living being.
She has dark, greyish brown, thik and rought bark, small, dark green leaves and she bears small, red and juisy, but bitter fruits from time to time.
She mothers the portion of the woods near the southwest part of the Forest's edge.
Relatively close to the human settlements, she is known among them, and few people even know her whereabouts.
Her wisdom respected among those humans as well as the forest kin, she is mostly left rest.
Her youngest son, Kohka, was born with amber eyes, and is thus exepted to grow up to be the next Goldhorn.
Tuudittaja tuominen
Honkainen huolenpitäjä
Pihlajainen paimen
Havatar Emopuu is one of the Mother Trees of the Great Eastern forest.
Ancient as she is, it is impossible to tell what kind of tree she is. Moreover, it seems like there might be few trees in her, entwined together to form one living being.
She has dark, greyish brown, thik and rought bark, small, dark green leaves and she bears small, red and juisy, but bitter fruits from time to time.
She mothers the portion of the woods near the southwest part of the Forest's edge.
Relatively close to the human settlements, she is known among them, and few people even know her whereabouts.
Her wisdom respected among those humans as well as the forest kin, she is mostly left rest.
Her youngest son, Kohka, was born with amber eyes, and is thus exepted to grow up to be the next Goldhorn.
tiistai 23. elokuuta 2011
Unhuman race; Kaolinean
Kaolinean (or Kaolinean people), are unhuman race mostly spread to the southeast parts of the Southern Talais. The race has few dosen of small, individual governments, that all have their own (albeit somewhat similar) cultures and habits.
keskiviikko 17. elokuuta 2011
The Unhuman race; Trivores
Trivores (singular; Trivora) are type of Kaolinean people.
They are born when one of the unhatched embryo attacks other two, devouring them to itself, creating one organism. The order of this invasion can result to three types of Trivora; Agro, Medium, or Pacifista.
During the time Kaolinean females used to lay their eggs to simple warm sand-bed, the birth of Trivora was quite common, yet somewhat frowned upon as it was seen as a result of carelessness of the parents, but with the more developed and controlled egg-lay beds, the Trivores have mostly vanished from the societies of Kaolinean people.
Few remain still though, as some Kaolinean refuses to use developed techniques, saying the result of hatching should be on the nature's hands only.
Also, few Kaolinean governments are reported to purposely allow the hatchings of Trivores to train the hatchlings as the private armies that are hired out for other countries as elite soldiers on wars.
As a result, most Trivores these days are soldiers, as in the times past they were most likely criminals or vandals due their innate agressive tendencies.
These days, in most Kaolineas societies the parents are law-bound to report the hatching of trivora, in which case the hatchling is transfered to the government-funded nurture-and education institution.
During the time Kaolinean females used to lay their eggs to simple warm sand-bed, the birth of Trivora was quite common, yet somewhat frowned upon as it was seen as a result of carelessness of the parents, but with the more developed and controlled egg-lay beds, the Trivores have mostly vanished from the societies of Kaolinean people.
Few remain still though, as some Kaolinean refuses to use developed techniques, saying the result of hatching should be on the nature's hands only.
Also, few Kaolinean governments are reported to purposely allow the hatchings of Trivores to train the hatchlings as the private armies that are hired out for other countries as elite soldiers on wars.
As a result, most Trivores these days are soldiers, as in the times past they were most likely criminals or vandals due their innate agressive tendencies.
These days, in most Kaolineas societies the parents are law-bound to report the hatching of trivora, in which case the hatchling is transfered to the government-funded nurture-and education institution.
keskiviikko 27. heinäkuuta 2011
Jariq
Name: Jariq
Gender: Male
Orientation: Doubting.
Birthday: Uncertain. In Engel month(?).
Eyes: Mud brown with yellow sun rings.
Hair: Brown like fallen leaves.
History: The reason behind creating the AlphaProject was, cruelly, nothing but a pride and curiousity of human alcemists who were wonderin how long they could go with controlled alchemic mutilation.
This led to a creation of AlphaProject.
The first mentionable result of the project was higlhy human-looking, but less so acting male, who later on started to call himself 'Jariq'.
He was (and still is) very much confused of his existence, not being sure if he ever was a human before the tests or if he was created all the way with alchemic mutilation.
Being this or that, he decided he didn't want to life the rest of his (unknown lenghted) life as a test specimen, so he escaped by setting the unit on fire, escapind with the aid of panic it arised.
Later, after wandering the world alone for a few years, he encountered kid that proved he hadn't been the only one of the test subjects.
Personality: Restless, carefree looking person who often seems to merge on things head-first, but who actually has long though plan ready for anything.
Likes: Cool wearher, warm clothes, having Miho around, having something to eat, warm and dry place to sleep.
Dislikes: Feeling that he's being avoiding just a shadows, feeling of paranoia, thinking he might be insane.
Associations: Chestnut, lion, grand piano, forest swamp, water slowly dripping down from the cave's ceiling; creating speleothems, King of wands, autumn, western direction.
Balance: Yang
Title: AlphaProject
tiistai 26. heinäkuuta 2011
Miho
Name: Miho
Gender: Male
Orientation: Pending.
Birthday: Uncertain. In Sparrow's month(?).
Eyes: Moss green with yellow sun circles.
Hair: Green-turquoise.
History: As well as AlphaProject, Miho too is result of controlled alchemic mutilation, the only one that survived the Jariq's escape, as he was developed in another unit.
The main reason of creating Miho, as far as he undertands it, was to get someone that could captive AlphaProject, but Miho himself wanted nothing more than meet up with the older, to get away from the industry.
Personality: Miho is still very much a teen despite of being adult male. His mood swings rapidly between silent musing and spitfire.
He is very uncertain of how the humanity works (being part of entirely different race in his own mind), but relying mostly on Jariq's experience makes him feel uneasy, so he hides it behind snarky remarks.
Likes: Warm place to sleep, food, arriving into a new town, trawelling, fishing.
Dislikes: Hunger, feeling of paranoia, when he thinks Jariq doesn't take him seriously.
Associations: Cloudberry, orange's flower, koto, snow leopard, forest fire, Knight of wands.
Balance: Yin.
Title: Neonheart.
lauantai 23. heinäkuuta 2011
Sound of the rising sun
We should go inside now.
The voice that barely was there reached the ears of the Fair one, who laid in the sunny patch on the open window still, curled in the warmth; the bath of gold around them.
An eye, graveyard blue, cracked open just a little. The eye was not one of the child's anymore, bearing more michevious glint than any child could have (yet, the Dark one saw the Child in those eyes, still. He was a lot older, after all), as the lips, pale like flower petals on snow, melted on the smile.
That was not a smile of a child either; a coy nomore, but perhaps for a show, and there was no one here to play to (or perhaps there was).
The smile that rose to the lips, like the sun raises from behind the horizon every morning (burning, fiery sun that guards the pale moon posessively, like a jealouse lover), was sleepy, yet somehow whimsical; an unnerving smile, perhaps, but the Dark one chuckled at it, as he recognised his influence on that smile.
The hot sun is bad for the skin. Especially for one so fair such this is.
A breath that quite wasn't there ghosted over the Fair one's neck. It held the familiar scent of oranges and burnt cinnamon and nutmeg and hint of... was that ginger?
The Fair one glanced lazily (oh, how they loved to act) to themselves, almost like suprised to see the white skin (so white, colour of death; the smoke from funeral pyres) that was covered only by equally white lace cloth. They traced fingers, long and jewel decorated, over the skin, almost curious, like a child, yet in no child-like manner (too sensual, too sure), pulling the lace up to a soft tight; baring more of luscious skin with a hint of dusty pink (like it was shy to be exposed).
"Is that so." the Fair one mused, and their voice was not of a child's anymore, either. They no more spoke with the voice of their kin, but with a one in which the Dark one's calm-fanged inflections have begun to take root in; the gold of his eyes tinging in the words.
The dark, golden, grey, shadowy skin was hot, so hot it almost burned and the Fair one wanted to melt, as the touch that almost wasn't there raked over the fair skin, but from the inside (for the Dark one is bound), leaving burning traces in their wake, the crimson nails tracing the boundaries of the prison (willing, pleasant prison).
We don't want you to get hurt, do we? The Dark one murmured, a ghost of a painted lips moving over their cheecks, smug and amused (posessive, jealouse).
You're not allowed to. the golden voice said, as though speaking to a child, obsidian and amber eyes narrowed, lips curved until he looked condescending.
Chuckle left his painted lips, as carmine nails raked over the fair skin, tracing the lines of their face, over their lips, down their nose.
A flickering breath left the full lips of the Fair one, as they almost choked on the power radiating from the Dark one (like the warmth radiates from ember), and they turned their head away from the lips that hover over their cheecks, and for a moment they were ashamed of their weakness.
Now, lets go inside.
The keen eyes (eyes of obsidian and amber) saw the shiver and he strokeed their hair (whisps of smoke and cotton and snowflakes; colour of nothingness), smiling in a superior way.
And the Fair one rose on their feet and gathered their lace cloth (for they were beaten), as they stepped in the gentle shadows of the house, away from the burning sun.
A pleasant creature indeed.
And then he is gone, leaving only a ghost of the kiss on their brow and a sharp laughter in the still air.
The voice that barely was there reached the ears of the Fair one, who laid in the sunny patch on the open window still, curled in the warmth; the bath of gold around them.
An eye, graveyard blue, cracked open just a little. The eye was not one of the child's anymore, bearing more michevious glint than any child could have (yet, the Dark one saw the Child in those eyes, still. He was a lot older, after all), as the lips, pale like flower petals on snow, melted on the smile.
That was not a smile of a child either; a coy nomore, but perhaps for a show, and there was no one here to play to (or perhaps there was).
The smile that rose to the lips, like the sun raises from behind the horizon every morning (burning, fiery sun that guards the pale moon posessively, like a jealouse lover), was sleepy, yet somehow whimsical; an unnerving smile, perhaps, but the Dark one chuckled at it, as he recognised his influence on that smile.
The hot sun is bad for the skin. Especially for one so fair such this is.
A breath that quite wasn't there ghosted over the Fair one's neck. It held the familiar scent of oranges and burnt cinnamon and nutmeg and hint of... was that ginger?
The Fair one glanced lazily (oh, how they loved to act) to themselves, almost like suprised to see the white skin (so white, colour of death; the smoke from funeral pyres) that was covered only by equally white lace cloth. They traced fingers, long and jewel decorated, over the skin, almost curious, like a child, yet in no child-like manner (too sensual, too sure), pulling the lace up to a soft tight; baring more of luscious skin with a hint of dusty pink (like it was shy to be exposed).
"Is that so." the Fair one mused, and their voice was not of a child's anymore, either. They no more spoke with the voice of their kin, but with a one in which the Dark one's calm-fanged inflections have begun to take root in; the gold of his eyes tinging in the words.
The dark, golden, grey, shadowy skin was hot, so hot it almost burned and the Fair one wanted to melt, as the touch that almost wasn't there raked over the fair skin, but from the inside (for the Dark one is bound), leaving burning traces in their wake, the crimson nails tracing the boundaries of the prison (willing, pleasant prison).
We don't want you to get hurt, do we? The Dark one murmured, a ghost of a painted lips moving over their cheecks, smug and amused (posessive, jealouse).
You're not allowed to. the golden voice said, as though speaking to a child, obsidian and amber eyes narrowed, lips curved until he looked condescending.
Chuckle left his painted lips, as carmine nails raked over the fair skin, tracing the lines of their face, over their lips, down their nose.
A flickering breath left the full lips of the Fair one, as they almost choked on the power radiating from the Dark one (like the warmth radiates from ember), and they turned their head away from the lips that hover over their cheecks, and for a moment they were ashamed of their weakness.
Now, lets go inside.
The keen eyes (eyes of obsidian and amber) saw the shiver and he strokeed their hair (whisps of smoke and cotton and snowflakes; colour of nothingness), smiling in a superior way.
And the Fair one rose on their feet and gathered their lace cloth (for they were beaten), as they stepped in the gentle shadows of the house, away from the burning sun.
A pleasant creature indeed.
And then he is gone, leaving only a ghost of the kiss on their brow and a sharp laughter in the still air.
keskiviikko 20. heinäkuuta 2011
Dog
Name: Xiao
Gender: Male
Orientation: Obsessed.
Birthday: February 10th / 23rd of Wolf's month
Eyes: Dark brown seal eyes.
Hair: Black.
History: Xiao, called as "Dog" many times by his master, rarely talks to anyone save said master.
Long time ago, he was sentanced to death by the community he lived in, accused from thievery, murders and heresy.
As the sentance was about to be carried upon, he however kicked an old stone down from the cliff. As it happened, the stone was an altar for his faith, and so, unknown to the people of his community, he unleashed the fury of old gods.
Huge waves brought distruction over the willage that laid on the reefy islands, leaving none; children, women, old or young alive. They were all gone, exept for Xiao.
And as the man, now a murderer of multiply people, cazed in the unveiled eyes of the Ocean lord, he was bound for forever to his service, losing the remains of his sanity, they say.
Personality: Sly, cunning mind that hides behind coy smile. Submissive personality if handled right.
Likes: Sounds of the ocean, playing flute, morning light, being useful to his master.
Dislikes: Feeling of hunger, disappointing his master, being pressed to talk.
Associations: Elements of wood and water, southeast direction, spring, pearls, tiger lilies, Dizi-flute, Knight of Cups.
Balance: Yang
Title: Dog of the sea
Gender: Male
Orientation: Obsessed.
Birthday: February 10th / 23rd of Wolf's month
Eyes: Dark brown seal eyes.
Hair: Black.
History: Xiao, called as "Dog" many times by his master, rarely talks to anyone save said master.
Long time ago, he was sentanced to death by the community he lived in, accused from thievery, murders and heresy.
As the sentance was about to be carried upon, he however kicked an old stone down from the cliff. As it happened, the stone was an altar for his faith, and so, unknown to the people of his community, he unleashed the fury of old gods.
Huge waves brought distruction over the willage that laid on the reefy islands, leaving none; children, women, old or young alive. They were all gone, exept for Xiao.
And as the man, now a murderer of multiply people, cazed in the unveiled eyes of the Ocean lord, he was bound for forever to his service, losing the remains of his sanity, they say.
Personality: Sly, cunning mind that hides behind coy smile. Submissive personality if handled right.
Likes: Sounds of the ocean, playing flute, morning light, being useful to his master.
Dislikes: Feeling of hunger, disappointing his master, being pressed to talk.
Associations: Elements of wood and water, southeast direction, spring, pearls, tiger lilies, Dizi-flute, Knight of Cups.
Balance: Yang
Title: Dog of the sea
lauantai 16. heinäkuuta 2011
Hodei
Name: Hodei
Gender: Male
Orientation: Could be doubted.
Birthday: January 3rd / 22nd of Sparrow's month
Eyes: Pale grey.
Hair: Coal black.
History: In the bright light Hodei is man who was taken in by lady Africa as a young teen. He runs her errands, and helps with business,running small repair shop for illegal guns and somewhat whatches over the lady's son, Jaan (how he qualifies to the job with his restless persona, that is a mystery to many).
In the shadows he is hitman to the Mother, "taking care" of the problems and intimidating troublesome people.
Hodei is somewhat broken inside for what the Mother has done to him, trying to ease the dullness he feels inside by pain. That is the main reason he takes part to the illegal street fights and does not really care if he wins or loses as long as he feels something.
He is very mistrusting of people, even though he doesn't show it clearly, feeling better when Jaan is beside him.
Personality: Hot head, has anger management problems, proud, greedy, sarcastic. Hodei rarely feels strong emotions beyond hate, pain and lust, which has made him very nihilistic.
Likes: Causing pain, being hurt, fighting, cheap alcohol, sunsets, street fights, mechanics, Jaan.
Dislikes: Feeling dull, people who don't fight back, killing, being hit on, feeling uncertain.
Associations: Elements of metal and earth, northwest direction, autumn, grapefruit, cactus flower, thick fog.
Balance: Yin
Title: Gasoline.
Gender: Male
Orientation: Could be doubted.
Birthday: January 3rd / 22nd of Sparrow's month
Eyes: Pale grey.
Hair: Coal black.
History: In the bright light Hodei is man who was taken in by lady Africa as a young teen. He runs her errands, and helps with business,
In the shadows he is hitman to the Mother, "taking care" of the problems and intimidating troublesome people.
Hodei is somewhat broken inside for what the Mother has done to him, trying to ease the dullness he feels inside by pain. That is the main reason he takes part to the illegal street fights and does not really care if he wins or loses as long as he feels something.
He is very mistrusting of people, even though he doesn't show it clearly, feeling better when Jaan is beside him.
Personality: Hot head, has anger management problems, proud, greedy, sarcastic. Hodei rarely feels strong emotions beyond hate, pain and lust, which has made him very nihilistic.
Likes: Causing pain, being hurt, fighting, cheap alcohol, sunsets, street fights, mechanics, Jaan.
Dislikes: Feeling dull, people who don't fight back, killing, being hit on, feeling uncertain.
Associations: Elements of metal and earth, northwest direction, autumn, grapefruit, cactus flower, thick fog.
Balance: Yin
Title: Gasoline.
Jaan
Name: Jaan Hobb
Age: Around twenties.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Anything that moves on two legs.
Birthday: April 2nd / 34th of Daimon month
Eyes: Broken jade green.
Hair: Flame red.
History: In the shadows Jaan is Hodei's partner in crime, professional sniper who backs up the Mother's forces in bad situations as well as "takes care" of problematic people who stand in the Mother's way.
On the bright light, he is son of lady Africa, the owner of the bar "Africa's", who has no real job and just runs some errands or takes care of the business, if he's not too drunk. He gains no profit from being the son of the lady Africa, but instead they both seem to be untouched, if not repulsed by their blood bond.
He is short, only 165cm (5.4ft) and while he is not really protective of that, he scorns the people who don't take him seriously becouse of it. This has led to few broken arms, jaws and noses.
Jaan is very ambitious and plans taking the business over from his mother one day. For now, however, he keeps his plans quiet, waiting for his time, hiding behind the mask of lasyness.
Becouse of what the Mother has done to him, he is slightly paranoid and does not trust anyone exept Hodei.
Personality: Bold, rude, sardonic, he hides wounded, uncertain child under the expression of arrogancy.
Likes: Silent afternoons, drinking, smell of the drug smoke (tho he doesn't use it), fighting, rough sex, humiliating people.
Dislikes: Arrogant people, being ordered around, bartender of the bar, his mother(?), the Mother, people who don't take him seriously becouse he is short.
Associations: Elements of fire and wood, southwest direction, summer, red grapefruit, autumn storm, the Chariot.
Balance: Yang
Title: Mary's lover
Age: Around twenties.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Anything that moves on two legs.
Birthday: April 2nd / 34th of Daimon month
Eyes: Broken jade green.
Hair: Flame red.
History: In the shadows Jaan is Hodei's partner in crime, professional sniper who backs up the Mother's forces in bad situations as well as "takes care" of problematic people who stand in the Mother's way.
On the bright light, he is son of lady Africa, the owner of the bar "Africa's", who has no real job and just runs some errands or takes care of the business, if he's not too drunk. He gains no profit from being the son of the lady Africa, but instead they both seem to be untouched, if not repulsed by their blood bond.
He is short, only 165cm (5.4ft) and while he is not really protective of that, he scorns the people who don't take him seriously becouse of it. This has led to few broken arms, jaws and noses.
Jaan is very ambitious and plans taking the business over from his mother one day. For now, however, he keeps his plans quiet, waiting for his time, hiding behind the mask of lasyness.
Becouse of what the Mother has done to him, he is slightly paranoid and does not trust anyone exept Hodei.
Personality: Bold, rude, sardonic, he hides wounded, uncertain child under the expression of arrogancy.
Likes: Silent afternoons, drinking, smell of the drug smoke (tho he doesn't use it), fighting, rough sex, humiliating people.
Dislikes: Arrogant people, being ordered around, bartender of the bar, his mother(?), the Mother, people who don't take him seriously becouse he is short.
Associations: Elements of fire and wood, southwest direction, summer, red grapefruit, autumn storm, the Chariot.
Balance: Yang
Title: Mary's lover
perjantai 15. heinäkuuta 2011
Ragdoll
Name: Ragdoll, Doll
Age: Around twenties.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Uncertain.
Birthday: Oct 9th / 36th of Cat's month.
Eyes: Sunset gold.
Hair: Cinnabar red.
History: Despite of being clear descendant of Kiresian blood, Doll has been raised up somewhat separated of the said culture, as a foster child of the Ïl Fairchild, the White hermit.
It is unclear even for the Doll himself how he end up in their care and his earliest memories are of himself playing under the table of the shop while the Fairchild was speaking with customers.
He was raised up in that shop where he learnt to handle, not only reptiles and snakes, but also his dificult, snarky caretaker.
As he grew up he started to spend less time in the shady shop and more with his friend Russell in the Kiresian parts of Nowhere.
He is the go-to-person when people on the block wish to ask favour from the Fairchild.
Personality: Loud, carefree, strong willed, joker. He hides all the troubles behind a mask of smile.
Likes: Strong tea, coffee, reptiles, Kawalski (his iguana totem), Russell (his friend), knives, goggles, tattoos, piercings.
Dislikes: Ïl's quirks, sweet food, Medame (albino boa), being watched over by Ïl.
Associations: Spring, southeast direction, elements of wood and fire, Knight of wands, bush fire, rambutan fruit, spider lily, parlour palm.
Balance: Yang
Title:
maanantai 11. heinäkuuta 2011
Shui Huang Yujian
Name: Shui Huang Yujian (Water Emperor JadeChild)
Age: Younger than the Blind Lord of Burnt Paper.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Wavering.
Birthday: Unknown.
Eyes: Dark green all around. No black, no white.
Hair: Black like the lightless sea.
History: Long time ago, for a mortals at least, the Ocean of Johanna was ruled over by the previous Shui Huang, the farther of the Yujian. His wife, Yujian's mother, was a fiery, bird-like lady, as the traditon demanded. The Yujian, Jadechild, was first of their descendants to gain knowledge of self and so a name.
As he was young, he thirsted for the power; of mind as well as the body, and so he got absorbed in his studies and training, devoting himself for the thirst, becoming stronger as the seasons changed.
His parents, however, were afraid the powers of their son and the thirst he felt for it, for they were afraid he'd take after the one who had been before him.
But before they could act on their fear, they were murdered and the murdered was never caught.
It is rumored, though, that Yujian would have ended the lives of his parents with his own hand.
Were these dreadfull stories true or not, Yujian rose to the throne of the Joanna's ocean and rules his waters with firm, yet righteous hand.
Still, they say that the young Shui Huang has been punished too, like some of the Old Kin.
And that his punishment was to lose his heart.
Personality: Calm, collected, obsessed with power but hates everyone he thinks might be threat. As water-born being, he is absolutely enchanted by beautifull music.
Likes: Having power over someone, music, green tea, persimons, the ocean, dusk and dawn, tides.
Dislikes: Everyone with more power than he has, weakness shown in his presence, human kin.
Associations: Elements of metal and water, Eastern direction, peach tree, waterlilies, The Emperor, gusheng, waves of ocean hitting the shore.
Balance: Yang
Title: The Ocean Lord.
Age: Younger than the Blind Lord of Burnt Paper.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Wavering.
Birthday: Unknown.
Eyes: Dark green all around. No black, no white.
Hair: Black like the lightless sea.
History: Long time ago, for a mortals at least, the Ocean of Johanna was ruled over by the previous Shui Huang, the farther of the Yujian. His wife, Yujian's mother, was a fiery, bird-like lady, as the traditon demanded. The Yujian, Jadechild, was first of their descendants to gain knowledge of self and so a name.
As he was young, he thirsted for the power; of mind as well as the body, and so he got absorbed in his studies and training, devoting himself for the thirst, becoming stronger as the seasons changed.
His parents, however, were afraid the powers of their son and the thirst he felt for it, for they were afraid he'd take after the one who had been before him.
But before they could act on their fear, they were murdered and the murdered was never caught.
It is rumored, though, that Yujian would have ended the lives of his parents with his own hand.
Were these dreadfull stories true or not, Yujian rose to the throne of the Joanna's ocean and rules his waters with firm, yet righteous hand.
Still, they say that the young Shui Huang has been punished too, like some of the Old Kin.
And that his punishment was to lose his heart.
Personality: Calm, collected, obsessed with power but hates everyone he thinks might be threat. As water-born being, he is absolutely enchanted by beautifull music.
Likes: Having power over someone, music, green tea, persimons, the ocean, dusk and dawn, tides.
Dislikes: Everyone with more power than he has, weakness shown in his presence, human kin.
Associations: Elements of metal and water, Eastern direction, peach tree, waterlilies, The Emperor, gusheng, waves of ocean hitting the shore.
Balance: Yang
Title: The Ocean Lord.
torstai 7. heinäkuuta 2011
The Time
The Year:
1st month; The Dog's month (Oct. 10th-Nov.5th) 27 days total.
2nd month; The Engel month (Nov.6th-Dec.12th) 37 days total.
3rd month; The Sparrow's month (Dec.13th-Jan.18th) 37 days total.
4th month; The Wolf's month (Jan.19th-Feb.27th) 40 days total.
5th month; The Daimon month (Feb.28th-Apr.6th) 38 or 39 days total.
6th month; The Dragon month (Apr.7th-May.14th) 38 days total.
7th month; The Snake month (May.15th-Jun.21st) 38 days total.
8th month; The Hawk's month (Jun.22nd-Jul.28th) 37 days total.
9th month; The Tiger's month (Jul.29th-Sept.3rd) 37 days total.
10th month; The Cat's month (Sept.4th-Oct.9th) 36 days total.
The Hours:
-Hours of the Day;
1st hour; The Crown of the dawn (6.am)
2nd hour; The hour of the Rooster (7.am)
3rd hour; The hour of the Snake (8.am)
4th hour; The hour of the Horse (9.am)
5th hour; The hour of the Boar (10.am)
6th hour; The hour of the Mule (11.am)
7th hour; The Demiday (12.m)
8th hour; The hour of the Hawk (1.pm)
9th hour; The hour of the Tiger (2.pm)
10th hour; The hour of the Lizard (3.pm)
11th hour; The hour of the Thrush (4.pm)
12th hour; The hour of the Monkey (5pm.)
- Hours of the Night;
1st hour; The hour of the Blackbird (6.pm)
2nd hour; The hour of the Cat (7.pm)
3rd hour; The Crown of the Dusk (8.pm)
4th hour; The hour of the Dog (9.pm)
5th hour; The hour of the Bat (10.pm)
6th hour; The hour of the Owl (11.pm)
7th hour; The Midnight (12.am)
8th hour; The hour of the Wolf (1.am)
9th hour; The hour of the Rat (2.am)
10th hour; The hour of the Hare (3.am)
11th hour; The hour of the Fox (4.am)
12th hour; The hour of the Dragon (who eats it's own tail) (5.am)
1st month; The Dog's month (Oct. 10th-Nov.5th) 27 days total.
2nd month; The Engel month (Nov.6th-Dec.12th) 37 days total.
3rd month; The Sparrow's month (Dec.13th-Jan.18th) 37 days total.
4th month; The Wolf's month (Jan.19th-Feb.27th) 40 days total.
5th month; The Daimon month (Feb.28th-Apr.6th) 38 or 39 days total.
6th month; The Dragon month (Apr.7th-May.14th) 38 days total.
7th month; The Snake month (May.15th-Jun.21st) 38 days total.
8th month; The Hawk's month (Jun.22nd-Jul.28th) 37 days total.
9th month; The Tiger's month (Jul.29th-Sept.3rd) 37 days total.
10th month; The Cat's month (Sept.4th-Oct.9th) 36 days total.
The Hours:
-Hours of the Day;
1st hour; The Crown of the dawn (6.am)
2nd hour; The hour of the Rooster (7.am)
3rd hour; The hour of the Snake (8.am)
4th hour; The hour of the Horse (9.am)
5th hour; The hour of the Boar (10.am)
6th hour; The hour of the Mule (11.am)
7th hour; The Demiday (12.m)
8th hour; The hour of the Hawk (1.pm)
9th hour; The hour of the Tiger (2.pm)
10th hour; The hour of the Lizard (3.pm)
11th hour; The hour of the Thrush (4.pm)
12th hour; The hour of the Monkey (5pm.)
- Hours of the Night;
1st hour; The hour of the Blackbird (6.pm)
2nd hour; The hour of the Cat (7.pm)
3rd hour; The Crown of the Dusk (8.pm)
4th hour; The hour of the Dog (9.pm)
5th hour; The hour of the Bat (10.pm)
6th hour; The hour of the Owl (11.pm)
7th hour; The Midnight (12.am)
8th hour; The hour of the Wolf (1.am)
9th hour; The hour of the Rat (2.am)
10th hour; The hour of the Hare (3.am)
11th hour; The hour of the Fox (4.am)
12th hour; The hour of the Dragon (who eats it's own tail) (5.am)
The Guardian
Name: The Guardian
Age: Unknown.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Irrelevant.
Birthday: August 19th / 22nd of Tiger's month.
Eyes: Mismatched; left dark like root beer, right golden like clear honey.
Hair: Marble syryp brown, wavy, shoulder lenght.
History: When ever there is story about the Healer, there is story about the Guardian too.
Many times he plays just a minor part on the story, maybe only referred as "Healer's Shadow", but he is there. Sometimes he plays bigger part, described as protector and right hand of the Healer, a "friend closest to his heart, his companion for life".
The oldest of the stories imply that the souls of the Healer and the Guardian would have been one in the dawn of times, later separated for unknown reasons.
In these old poems and songs the Guardian is usually referred as "The one bound to Earth" while the Healer is "He who strives for the Wind".
Personality: He is always described calm man, very often not talking to anyone but the Healer, "quiet like the breath of the wind".
He also seems not to have any priorities or morals except those of the Healer.
Likes: Silence, nature, green tea, the Healer.
Dislikes: Rudeness or disrespect shown for the Healer.
Associations: Elements of earth and metal, The Hanged man, western direction, autumn, rowanberries, valley lilies, marble tree, breeze moving the fallen leaves.
Balance: Yang
Title: The Guardian
Age: Unknown.
Gender: Male.
Orientation: Irrelevant.
Birthday: August 19th / 22nd of Tiger's month.
Eyes: Mismatched; left dark like root beer, right golden like clear honey.
Hair: Marble syryp brown, wavy, shoulder lenght.
History: When ever there is story about the Healer, there is story about the Guardian too.
Many times he plays just a minor part on the story, maybe only referred as "Healer's Shadow", but he is there. Sometimes he plays bigger part, described as protector and right hand of the Healer, a "friend closest to his heart, his companion for life".
The oldest of the stories imply that the souls of the Healer and the Guardian would have been one in the dawn of times, later separated for unknown reasons.
In these old poems and songs the Guardian is usually referred as "The one bound to Earth" while the Healer is "He who strives for the Wind".
Personality: He is always described calm man, very often not talking to anyone but the Healer, "quiet like the breath of the wind".
He also seems not to have any priorities or morals except those of the Healer.
Likes: Silence, nature, green tea, the Healer.
Dislikes: Rudeness or disrespect shown for the Healer.
Associations: Elements of earth and metal, The Hanged man, western direction, autumn, rowanberries, valley lilies, marble tree, breeze moving the fallen leaves.
Balance: Yang
Title: The Guardian
The Healer
Name: The Healer
Age: Unknown
Gender: Male-ish
Orientation: Irrelevant
Birthday: June 1st / 18th of Snake month
Eyes: Salt crystal-blue
Hair: Satin black, long.
History: The Healer is mentioned in many stories of Eastern Talais and the lands where Eastern immigrants have stablished their own culture. The stories span over many times, making it impossibe to the Healerto be real, living person, as the stories mostly imply, but he is mentioned in the everyday conversations often like he really would be alive.
Some people say he was (or is) the last dragon lord, who is reborn over and over again.
In stories and theatre, his symbols are long, light blue jacket and blossoming branch of apple tree, which are nowadays symbold oh healer guild almost world-widely.
The relationship between the Healer and his Shadow is universal symbol to loyalty and friendship that conquers everything else.
In old songs and poems he is referred as "He who strives for the Wind", while his Shadow is called "The one bound to the Earth".
Personality: In stories, the Healer is described in very different ways dependin of the story. He can be gentle, caring and righteous, or mischievous, sly, even cruel depending on the settings of the story.
It seems he has very unhuman reasoning and inducements.
Likes: Herbal tea, nature, honey, his shadow.
Dislikes: Crude people, being touched, being ordered.
Associations: The World, elements of water and metal, northeast direction, rosehips, apple flowers, wild apple tree, slowly falling snow.
Balance: Yin
Title: The Healer
Ami
Name: Ami B
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Orientation: open
Birthday: April 9th / 3rd of Dragon month
Eyes: Ocean green
Hair: Poppy red
History: Ami's family moved in to the Nowhere when he was only three years old. Before this, they had lived "Somewhere southwest" as he puts it. They moved becouse their homeland was at bad economical state after the war.
Ami's "Mama" was spicy, a tad bit eccentric woman who influence her only son with her bohemian, happy attitude, much to dismay of her husband who was conservative man and would rather had seen Ami growing up by old traditions to take over the family business than embracing this "foreign nonsence" as he referred everything Nowherean did day by day.
As Ami grew, his relationshi with his "Papa" became more strained and his mama had to make more and more work to keep the house even in relative peace.
Ami's mama got ill when the boy was fourteen ears old and past away in lack of medication in just little over two months. After this, the boy's father fell in to a deep depression and barely managed to take care of himself, let alone the boy.
During this time, Ami started to earn money from game table and by having a rich lovers and admirers. His actions finally caught an attention of Lady Carmen who took the boy, sixteen at time, under her wings.
Finlly, three years after his wife, Ami's father finally passed away from his poor health and he moved permanently out from the house he hadn't been living in years.
He soon found small apartment he shares with troublesome room mate.
It seems either of them still does not know if they are friends or nemesis.
Personality: Mischievious, sly and proud of his Kiresian blood, Ami does not hesitate to try and get anything he wants. He is bad with his mouth and seems to incabable to shut up even when he should which leads him into a many unnecessary troubles.
Likes: Attention, rich customers, expensive gifts, clothes, jogging, tequila, club music, fine dining, good conversations, sunrises.
Dislikes: Being ignored, nosy people, stingy people (i.e they don't spend their money on him), Kim's "episodes", his boss telling him to work harder, cheap clubs, places without the glamour.
Associations: Sunflowers, pomegranates, The Fool, northern lights, elements of wood and fire, Southern direction.
Balance: Yang
Title: Tequila sunrise
keskiviikko 6. heinäkuuta 2011
Kim
Name: Hyun "Kim" Valko
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Orientation: Unsure
Birthday: November 3rd / 11th of Dog's month
Eyes: Winter grey.
Hair: Ink black, messy.
History: About fife years ago, Kim woke up in the small clinic held by illegal street-healers.
He was told that someone had found him from the river, drounded, before the healers could bring back his breath.
Kim had been dead about fife minutes, or little more.
As the days went by, he realized he had no memoried beyond his name and age and the healers explained the amnesia as post-traumatic result of almost dying.
Eventually he was forced to leave, for he had no money to pay for the healers and they had no place to keep him.
Nowadays Kim lives in small apartment that he shares with Ami.
He works as a bouncer in the bar called "Africa's", where he's known from his biting remarks and kind of unpleasant attitude.
Kim believes he can see somekind of ghosts or spirits and that scares him above everything else.
Most people just say he's nuts.
Personality: Vain, proud, paranoid tendencies. Sarcasm makes his day.
Likes: Rain, silence, music, Ami (not that it'd show), vodka, cigarettes, guns, all kind of mechanical thingamajig.
Dislikes: Eating, his medication, stupid people, waking up, getting up, darkness, being alone in dark, feeling cold, big amounts of water in one place.
Associations: Rain, vodka, strong sweet tea, Death, elements of metal and water, blue lotus, autumn, northwest direction, drizzle, nightmares.
Balance: Yin
Title: Vodka shot
sunnuntai 3. heinäkuuta 2011
The Darkest hours of my mind
He listened the soft breaths emitted behind him, the air slightly puffing against his shoulder blades.
He felt bad for the kid; this wasn't fitting life for anyone, let alone growing teen. The kid would have needed good, balanced diet, or at least full stomach in regular basis, not few bites of food here and there. Surely he didn't need running around in paranoid fear of being caught.
At least the research institute had been warm, if his memory of the place served right. Kid was already sleeping fully clothed; shivering between heat emitting from the back of the older male and hot water ducks running behind the thin wall that warmed the small waste space left between building floors. And the winter was yet to come.
Sure, male himself had hated lab with all his heart and soul, and sure the kid had run away just like he had; on his own regard after they had stumbled upon each other, but he had been adult male, and this kid…
Well, kid was in middle of growing, and for what he remembered of his own maturation it was going to be fast.
Kid would need good food and warm place.
What would they do if kid got sick? They couldn't just march in any medicare without papers. Or money at that.
He pushed his head deeper into the pillow.
He had never before encountered any other of his kind. Of course it wasn't any real wonder; they have been created in bizarre genetic mutilation after all. Yet his basic instincts told him that taking care of the younger was his responsibility as the same instincts had told both of them that they were of the same. And that he was leader, not only justified by his size and strength, but also by his superior experience.
He turned restlessly again, rubbing his rough chin into the pillow.
The kid held his head against the back of the older male's shoulder, and he could feel kid's hands resting against his back between their bodies.
He should send the kid back to institute.
Sure he himself had hated of being locked inside, but during the dark night hours he was painfully afraid that maybe he was just looking for an excuse to keep the kid with him, ignoring the benefits the institute had to offer.
For he knew very well how it'd go; at every morning he'd watch the slender form of the kid and wonder how long he'd stay even remotely healthy weighted. And he would look at those green eyes that bore the same golden-yellow ring just around the pupil that older himself had.
And he wouldn't let the kid go back, even when his subconscious told him that he should.
Because if the kid would go…
If the kid would go, he'd be all alone again.
He felt bad for the kid; this wasn't fitting life for anyone, let alone growing teen. The kid would have needed good, balanced diet, or at least full stomach in regular basis, not few bites of food here and there. Surely he didn't need running around in paranoid fear of being caught.
At least the research institute had been warm, if his memory of the place served right. Kid was already sleeping fully clothed; shivering between heat emitting from the back of the older male and hot water ducks running behind the thin wall that warmed the small waste space left between building floors. And the winter was yet to come.
Sure, male himself had hated lab with all his heart and soul, and sure the kid had run away just like he had; on his own regard after they had stumbled upon each other, but he had been adult male, and this kid…
Well, kid was in middle of growing, and for what he remembered of his own maturation it was going to be fast.
Kid would need good food and warm place.
What would they do if kid got sick? They couldn't just march in any medicare without papers. Or money at that.
He pushed his head deeper into the pillow.
He had never before encountered any other of his kind. Of course it wasn't any real wonder; they have been created in bizarre genetic mutilation after all. Yet his basic instincts told him that taking care of the younger was his responsibility as the same instincts had told both of them that they were of the same. And that he was leader, not only justified by his size and strength, but also by his superior experience.
He turned restlessly again, rubbing his rough chin into the pillow.
The kid held his head against the back of the older male's shoulder, and he could feel kid's hands resting against his back between their bodies.
He should send the kid back to institute.
Sure he himself had hated of being locked inside, but during the dark night hours he was painfully afraid that maybe he was just looking for an excuse to keep the kid with him, ignoring the benefits the institute had to offer.
For he knew very well how it'd go; at every morning he'd watch the slender form of the kid and wonder how long he'd stay even remotely healthy weighted. And he would look at those green eyes that bore the same golden-yellow ring just around the pupil that older himself had.
And he wouldn't let the kid go back, even when his subconscious told him that he should.
Because if the kid would go…
If the kid would go, he'd be all alone again.
tiistai 28. kesäkuuta 2011
The Dark one
Name: The Dark one
Age: Unknwn. Old like dirt(?)
Gender: male
Orientation: Unknown
Birthday: Unknown
Eyes: Amber with obsidian scleras.
Hair: Long, colour of ash and smoke.
History: The Dark one has been imprisoned on the glade behind the wake and the sleep for the longest time. People have forgotten him and even the gods that bound him inside, fading away even from the stories that mortal kin tell to eachother.
He once thirsted for the power like no other, and as he drank to it, he woke the fears of old, jealouse gods who imprisoned him in their fear and rage.
Many of his kin were punished too, so that there would not be ones like him.
Bound, stripped from his powers, isolated from the world he burnt in silent rage, trying to find the way to escape, but even the oblivion of the old gods did not falther the bounds of his prison.
Untill, after the time in which the Dark one himself had forgotten how long had he been imprisoned, a child with nameless blood came to his prison, lost, alone.
And as the Child thirsted for affection and power, the Dark one promised to give that all, in exchange from the freedom.
Personality: Proud, honourable and jealouse. His years in imprisonement made him tad bit insane and unpredictable, yet most of the time he seems to watch world with mild amusement and ironic disdain. He has obsessive-possessive tendencies.
Likes: Freedom, sweet tea, snakes, warm sunshine, dreams, playing with people's minds.
Dislikes: Imprisonment, salty food, furred beings, cold weather, rude people challenging him, people trying to take what belongs to him.
Association: The Sun, ember, chinese crysanthemum, bamboo, amber, obsidian, carmine, Southern direction, distressing; whimsical dreams, long stewed tea poured in fine porcelain cup, elements of wood and fire.
Balance: Yang
Title: The King of Dreams
Age: Unknwn. Old like dirt(?)
Gender: male
Orientation: Unknown
Birthday: Unknown
Eyes: Amber with obsidian scleras.
Hair: Long, colour of ash and smoke.
History: The Dark one has been imprisoned on the glade behind the wake and the sleep for the longest time. People have forgotten him and even the gods that bound him inside, fading away even from the stories that mortal kin tell to eachother.
He once thirsted for the power like no other, and as he drank to it, he woke the fears of old, jealouse gods who imprisoned him in their fear and rage.
Many of his kin were punished too, so that there would not be ones like him.
Bound, stripped from his powers, isolated from the world he burnt in silent rage, trying to find the way to escape, but even the oblivion of the old gods did not falther the bounds of his prison.
Untill, after the time in which the Dark one himself had forgotten how long had he been imprisoned, a child with nameless blood came to his prison, lost, alone.
And as the Child thirsted for affection and power, the Dark one promised to give that all, in exchange from the freedom.
Personality: Proud, honourable and jealouse. His years in imprisonement made him tad bit insane and unpredictable, yet most of the time he seems to watch world with mild amusement and ironic disdain. He has obsessive-possessive tendencies.
Likes: Freedom, sweet tea, snakes, warm sunshine, dreams, playing with people's minds.
Dislikes: Imprisonment, salty food, furred beings, cold weather, rude people challenging him, people trying to take what belongs to him.
Association: The Sun, ember, chinese crysanthemum, bamboo, amber, obsidian, carmine, Southern direction, distressing; whimsical dreams, long stewed tea poured in fine porcelain cup, elements of wood and fire.
Balance: Yang
Title: The King of Dreams
sunnuntai 26. kesäkuuta 2011
The White child
Name: The White child
Age: Unknown
Gender: None
Orientation: Unknown
Birthday: Unknown
Eyes: Graveyard blue
Hair: White like snow
History: The Child was born in far southern-west, where the sun sets to the bloody ocean. In birth the Child was white; the colour of death; like snow that sometimes rushed down the mountain sides, crushing people and cattle and the plants; like the smoke that raises from the funeral pyre. The Child had no gender either, to place them among those who give birth or those who protect, and so they were feared.
In time, when it became clear that the Child wouldn't just go away, they sent them to the temple to be measured and placed as seen fit.
As the child was taken before the Gaivat, the women of the temple, they examined the Child carefully and read the signs from the movements of the sacred snakes.
After many days, it finally was announced for the people that the Child was the incarnation of gods, and so the Child was bathed, clothed and dressed in fine jewellry.
Given everything they wanted or needed they lived in the temple; people would come and worship them, give them gifts of finest fruits, cloth and jewellry.
The days of their childhood drift away in the drug smoke and the fireflysongs.
They are still a Child, albeit an older one, when the demons come from the sea. Poison eyed demons attact the city and the temple and everything turns red, red, red. The city, the temple the people. Hot and flaring and red, and the White child runs for they are afraid (they are empty).
They run untill they come to the blue hills. And there they first time encounter the Dark one, the bound one on the glade behind the sleep.
And the Dark one thirsts for the freedom as the Child thists for the affection and power.
For that, they join together.
Personality: Vain, proud, childish. They love affection and obsession shown for them egually.
Likes: Fine clothing and jewellry, warmth, the Dark one, power, being obsessed over, snakes.
Dislikes: Rude people, feeling weak, not having what they want.
Associations: White lotus, blue mist, albino snakes, drifting incense smoke, the Moon, ivory, South-west direction, elements of metal and water.
Balance: Yin
Title: Living god, Child of Nameless blood
Age: Unknown
Gender: None
Orientation: Unknown
Birthday: Unknown
Eyes: Graveyard blue
Hair: White like snow
History: The Child was born in far southern-west, where the sun sets to the bloody ocean. In birth the Child was white; the colour of death; like snow that sometimes rushed down the mountain sides, crushing people and cattle and the plants; like the smoke that raises from the funeral pyre. The Child had no gender either, to place them among those who give birth or those who protect, and so they were feared.
In time, when it became clear that the Child wouldn't just go away, they sent them to the temple to be measured and placed as seen fit.
As the child was taken before the Gaivat, the women of the temple, they examined the Child carefully and read the signs from the movements of the sacred snakes.
After many days, it finally was announced for the people that the Child was the incarnation of gods, and so the Child was bathed, clothed and dressed in fine jewellry.
Given everything they wanted or needed they lived in the temple; people would come and worship them, give them gifts of finest fruits, cloth and jewellry.
The days of their childhood drift away in the drug smoke and the fireflysongs.
They are still a Child, albeit an older one, when the demons come from the sea. Poison eyed demons attact the city and the temple and everything turns red, red, red. The city, the temple the people. Hot and flaring and red, and the White child runs for they are afraid (they are empty).
They run untill they come to the blue hills. And there they first time encounter the Dark one, the bound one on the glade behind the sleep.
And the Dark one thirsts for the freedom as the Child thists for the affection and power.
For that, they join together.
Personality: Vain, proud, childish. They love affection and obsession shown for them egually.
Likes: Fine clothing and jewellry, warmth, the Dark one, power, being obsessed over, snakes.
Dislikes: Rude people, feeling weak, not having what they want.
Associations: White lotus, blue mist, albino snakes, drifting incense smoke, the Moon, ivory, South-west direction, elements of metal and water.
Balance: Yin
Title: Living god, Child of Nameless blood
Bluecloak
There is a blind man with a fourteen eyes
He's dressed in the blue
Don't stray your path to hear his lies
Not a word you hear is true.
Name: Kaamos Siniviitta (Bluecloak)
Age: Unknown. (Younger than the Dark one, older than Yujian).
Gender: male
Orientation: Unknown
Birthday: Unknown
Eyes: Milky-white, blind.
Hair: White like frost.
History: It is not clear what Kaamos exactly is or where he has come from. Most of the old stories describe him as kin to the Dark one that was captured and enslaved to guard the City of the Paper; to light the lamps at evening; to be prisoned during the day in the dungeons under the city.
When the Dark one was imprisoned, Kaamos was ripped from his ability of sight, so that he wouldn't take after him.
Mad from pain, anger and sorrow, he burnt down the city he was supposed to guard, killing everything and everyone in his rage.
But the bindings that had kept him in the city did not falther even when the city was burnt, nothing remaining but the ashes, and so Kaamos remained imprisoned and tied to the place.
In time, huge forest grew to the place of the city and around it, and it is the place where the Kaamos still roams.
No one knows where the jackdaws came, but they follow the Bluecloak and supposedly work as his eyes.
Kaamos, still insane, still mad from the wrongs done to him, wanders in the forest; tempting people with light blue fires and honey dripping words to be forever lost in the woods.
However, there are stories of him leading lost children back to their homes. He is also told to be skilled healer and sometimes desparate people set out to the quest of looking for them to cure their sickness.
Some people say he can also send disease upon people and sudden strike of illness is called "The Arrow of Bluecloak".
Personality: Insane, unpredictable; can be happy at one and sorroful at another moment. Aura of silent wisdom and bitter spite. Speaks with honey-coated tongue that hides the venom and lies.
Likes: Fire, jackdaws, forest(?), snow, furr, colour blue, mist, hot tea, swamps, forest lakes, riddles.
Dislikes: Humans, mortals in general, the Dream weaver, snakes, loud noices in the forest.
Associations: Snowdrop flowers, pinetrees, The Magician, northern direction, will o' the wisps, bilberries, labyrinth.
Balance: Yang
Title: The False guide, The Blue light
The ember
There is no horizon for the glade. No shore, no sky. Just the abyss, the mist and the trees.
The hills are veiled by the blue mist, crying the river of tears for the sins they have to bear, like pregnant mother bears the child. Even when it hurts so.
The woods are whispering silently among themselves, almost like afraid to disturb the peace of the prisoners. The heights of the trees pity them, yet cage them inside more firm, more sure than the bars of iron. For it is their punishment, and the woods understand it.
They are all nothing but shadows, their names hidden to the dust of the history. Tormented names, forgotten even by the gods that chained them there. Maybe even the gods are forgotten now, for the world has changed like the tides that turn in their time. A child no more.
Perhaps the Dark one still remembers, he has been there with them for the long time, after all.
The Dark one, the bound one. The prison was created for him in the first place.
His face is colour of shadows, dead to all feeling, for he has been lonely for a long time. Prisoned between the wake and the sleep.
Too powerfull, too bold to stay guiet even in his eternal prison like the others do, he sings silently as his long fingers, like spider legs, nails painted carmine twist the loose ends of the forgotten dreams to his pleasure; weaving them allthough not ruling over them.
Once he did rule those dreams.
But that power is bound for him now.
His eyes burning with endless rage and yearning of freedom; eyes of obsidian and amber, as his hair lays on his dark shoulders like smoke and mist and shadows.
Proud like dying sun he is, even in his imprisoned state, wisp of fire and gold and carmine.
Burning silently, like an ember.
The hills are veiled by the blue mist, crying the river of tears for the sins they have to bear, like pregnant mother bears the child. Even when it hurts so.
The woods are whispering silently among themselves, almost like afraid to disturb the peace of the prisoners. The heights of the trees pity them, yet cage them inside more firm, more sure than the bars of iron. For it is their punishment, and the woods understand it.
They are all nothing but shadows, their names hidden to the dust of the history. Tormented names, forgotten even by the gods that chained them there. Maybe even the gods are forgotten now, for the world has changed like the tides that turn in their time. A child no more.
Perhaps the Dark one still remembers, he has been there with them for the long time, after all.
The Dark one, the bound one. The prison was created for him in the first place.
His face is colour of shadows, dead to all feeling, for he has been lonely for a long time. Prisoned between the wake and the sleep.
Too powerfull, too bold to stay guiet even in his eternal prison like the others do, he sings silently as his long fingers, like spider legs, nails painted carmine twist the loose ends of the forgotten dreams to his pleasure; weaving them allthough not ruling over them.
Once he did rule those dreams.
But that power is bound for him now.
His eyes burning with endless rage and yearning of freedom; eyes of obsidian and amber, as his hair lays on his dark shoulders like smoke and mist and shadows.
Proud like dying sun he is, even in his imprisoned state, wisp of fire and gold and carmine.
Burning silently, like an ember.
sunnuntai 19. kesäkuuta 2011
Khimera; habits and social tips
The social habits of Khimera people might seem confusing, difficult and even frightening when first encountered, but with these easy basic tips you will be able to socialize with Khimera in the most situations.
You will learn more along the way and many Khimera are most forgiving for the small mistakes of foreign.
Polite way of greeting:
Start with slight brush of fingertips to your forehead then lips.
After that state your name and status (if any).
The touch of forehead symbols open mind; promise of not planning bad things over the other.
The touch of lips symbols honesty; a promise of truthful words.
The other party will then repeat this gesture.
Right form of addressing:
While introducing oneself, remember to include right title before your name. Same goes while addressing others.
Only close friends can leave the titles out, and even then they usually include them while in presence of other people.
Sere: "good/honoured sir" The unmarried male.
Serr: "good/honoured sir" The married male.
Seri: "good/honoured sir" The widowered male.
Sery: "good/honoured lady" The unmarried female.
Sera: "good/honoured madam" The married female.
Serra: "good/honoured madam" The widowed female.
Social tips:
1. The hair is tabu aka. Do not touch the hair. Ever.
The hair is extremely personal to Khimeras. Touching one's hair is privilege reserved only to one's beloved and thus touching the hair, accidentaly, or -gods forbid- by purpose is worse that grabbing someone's ass or breast in human culture.
Don't worry about the results this act leads.
Just never do it.
2. Emeres aka. Collared people.
Depending on where you come from and your up bringing you'll feel different degrees of pity or disrespect towards these people.
You have become used to associate collars with slaves and ownership, and most likely think of these people less that persons.
Do not.
Emeres are indeed owned, but only in the most loose meaning of the word; the men and women who own them are obligated to take care of them and if they feel their needs are not met, they can choose to be sold to a new master. They are protected by law and by the power of their owners.
If you're not introduced, do not try to speak with them; they will not answer and you'll be seen as rude person.
In any case do not try to order them around. They are not slaves and you'll be not only laughted at but also very likely pulled to a court from disrespecting behaviour.
Also, you'll not be able to trade anything with the Khimeras who think you as rude person.
3. Your name means nothing.
In Khimera kingdoms the person's individual accomplishment is everything that counts.
Do not exept to be respected even if you are related to someone noble or rich or other ways accomplished.
So strange as this custom may seem you'll be only laughted at if you demand good treatment becouse you're sole heir to someone well known.
Your father might be the King of the world. Khimeras do not care.
4. Piercings.
Refrain from using big, noteworthy piercing, even earrings.
Khimeras see piercings as primitive, repulsive act of self-harm, and while they don't exactly get offended by them it is better to stay as minimalized as possibe.
5. Breasts.
Khimera women often walk without any shirt under their jacket, just like men do.
Do not be shocked by this, for to them it is normal act.
Staring at women's breasts will result in strange looks and showing embarrassment caused by them is most likely met with laughter and teasing.
6. Arguments are national hobby.
Once you spend time in leisure with your Khimera acquiantances something you will say without thinking, a question or opinion for example, will most likely be met by opposing point of view that is represented in quite forward way.
Do not be offended by this; it's just Khimerian habit of spending time depating over almost everything one can think of.
The opposing opinion might seem strange, ethically or moraly wrong or just bare queer, but do not think badly of it; it doesn't necessarily represent the individual's own opinion in any way, but just acts as means to get depate started.
Curious things you'll notice:
There are plenty of strange, unfamiliar things in Khimera culture as you'll see.
Here is list of some of them:
- 70% of Khimera population are male:
While walking among the Khimera, you can easily get the feeling that every individual you see or meet are male. This has led to common misunderstanding that Khimera would keep most of their female inside, out of the eyes of foreign. That is not true. The truth is that most of the Khimera indeed is male. Seven of every ten born babies are male and so the amount of people you see is naturally male-oriented.
- Golden hair:
One of the rarer mutation of Khimera population. Roughly one of the twenty-fife children born have golden or strawberry blond hair, as the rest are normal variety of red hair.
It is believed that these children are destinated to have good fortune in life, especially in money-related issues, so do not wonder if Khimera make big fuss over golden haired child.
-Children are loved:
In average, every Khimera loves children; their own or of the other race.
It is not strange that even the total strangers pet, hug, kiss or othervice pamper the children they see. It might even be said that in Khimera culture the children are bublic posession.
The children are the future and their well-being is close to the national-heart of the Khimera.
-Females are taller:
As an (assumed) individual of human race you have gotten used to thougt that females are smaller, more fragile sex. This is not true with Khimera.
The average height of Khimera female is 2,10m (688.98ft) as the averge height of male is from 1,80m to 2m (590 to 656ft).
-Humans are cute:
There is no way to avoid this; where ever you go, you'll get glances and looks.
An average Khimera think human as cutest little thing; probably as a result of parental instinct as facial sculpture of most humans (especially Eastern) remaind somewhat that of the Khimera children; being softer and having bigger, rounder eyes along with lack of height compared to Khimera.
They should not baby-talk to you thought.
You will learn more along the way and many Khimera are most forgiving for the small mistakes of foreign.
Polite way of greeting:
Start with slight brush of fingertips to your forehead then lips.
After that state your name and status (if any).
The touch of forehead symbols open mind; promise of not planning bad things over the other.
The touch of lips symbols honesty; a promise of truthful words.
The other party will then repeat this gesture.
Right form of addressing:
While introducing oneself, remember to include right title before your name. Same goes while addressing others.
Only close friends can leave the titles out, and even then they usually include them while in presence of other people.
Sere: "good/honoured sir" The unmarried male.
Serr: "good/honoured sir" The married male.
Seri: "good/honoured sir" The widowered male.
Sery: "good/honoured lady" The unmarried female.
Sera: "good/honoured madam" The married female.
Serra: "good/honoured madam" The widowed female.
Social tips:
1. The hair is tabu aka. Do not touch the hair. Ever.
The hair is extremely personal to Khimeras. Touching one's hair is privilege reserved only to one's beloved and thus touching the hair, accidentaly, or -gods forbid- by purpose is worse that grabbing someone's ass or breast in human culture.
Don't worry about the results this act leads.
Just never do it.
2. Emeres aka. Collared people.
Depending on where you come from and your up bringing you'll feel different degrees of pity or disrespect towards these people.
You have become used to associate collars with slaves and ownership, and most likely think of these people less that persons.
Do not.
Emeres are indeed owned, but only in the most loose meaning of the word; the men and women who own them are obligated to take care of them and if they feel their needs are not met, they can choose to be sold to a new master. They are protected by law and by the power of their owners.
If you're not introduced, do not try to speak with them; they will not answer and you'll be seen as rude person.
In any case do not try to order them around. They are not slaves and you'll be not only laughted at but also very likely pulled to a court from disrespecting behaviour.
Also, you'll not be able to trade anything with the Khimeras who think you as rude person.
3. Your name means nothing.
In Khimera kingdoms the person's individual accomplishment is everything that counts.
Do not exept to be respected even if you are related to someone noble or rich or other ways accomplished.
So strange as this custom may seem you'll be only laughted at if you demand good treatment becouse you're sole heir to someone well known.
Your father might be the King of the world. Khimeras do not care.
4. Piercings.
Refrain from using big, noteworthy piercing, even earrings.
Khimeras see piercings as primitive, repulsive act of self-harm, and while they don't exactly get offended by them it is better to stay as minimalized as possibe.
5. Breasts.
Khimera women often walk without any shirt under their jacket, just like men do.
Do not be shocked by this, for to them it is normal act.
Staring at women's breasts will result in strange looks and showing embarrassment caused by them is most likely met with laughter and teasing.
6. Arguments are national hobby.
Once you spend time in leisure with your Khimera acquiantances something you will say without thinking, a question or opinion for example, will most likely be met by opposing point of view that is represented in quite forward way.
Do not be offended by this; it's just Khimerian habit of spending time depating over almost everything one can think of.
The opposing opinion might seem strange, ethically or moraly wrong or just bare queer, but do not think badly of it; it doesn't necessarily represent the individual's own opinion in any way, but just acts as means to get depate started.
Curious things you'll notice:
There are plenty of strange, unfamiliar things in Khimera culture as you'll see.
Here is list of some of them:
- 70% of Khimera population are male:
While walking among the Khimera, you can easily get the feeling that every individual you see or meet are male. This has led to common misunderstanding that Khimera would keep most of their female inside, out of the eyes of foreign. That is not true. The truth is that most of the Khimera indeed is male. Seven of every ten born babies are male and so the amount of people you see is naturally male-oriented.
- Golden hair:
One of the rarer mutation of Khimera population. Roughly one of the twenty-fife children born have golden or strawberry blond hair, as the rest are normal variety of red hair.
It is believed that these children are destinated to have good fortune in life, especially in money-related issues, so do not wonder if Khimera make big fuss over golden haired child.
-Children are loved:
In average, every Khimera loves children; their own or of the other race.
It is not strange that even the total strangers pet, hug, kiss or othervice pamper the children they see. It might even be said that in Khimera culture the children are bublic posession.
The children are the future and their well-being is close to the national-heart of the Khimera.
-Females are taller:
As an (assumed) individual of human race you have gotten used to thougt that females are smaller, more fragile sex. This is not true with Khimera.
The average height of Khimera female is 2,10m (688.98ft) as the averge height of male is from 1,80m to 2m (590 to 656ft).
-Humans are cute:
There is no way to avoid this; where ever you go, you'll get glances and looks.
An average Khimera think human as cutest little thing; probably as a result of parental instinct as facial sculpture of most humans (especially Eastern) remaind somewhat that of the Khimera children; being softer and having bigger, rounder eyes along with lack of height compared to Khimera.
They should not baby-talk to you thought.
sunnuntai 24. huhtikuuta 2011
Deep waters slay you gently.
On Moonsday, he stepped through the Veil of Dusk and Dawn. He was delighted on how the sunlight was dancing on his waves and so he remained on wathching them for some time.
On Warsday he crossed the old bridge that has been built over his waters long time ago; the builders long gone. He was slightly worried on how close the human colonizations had spread and on how far they had strayed from nature. He commited the worry in his memory to be properly examinated and to be thought over later as he would have time to do so.
On Middleweek he travelled far in the upstream of one of the rivers running to his arms, finding delight on the chatter of small foams of the rapids, tallying with each one of them, and gently petting their white curls before they ran forward, giggling and whispering during their race.
On Thundersday he rested for a while in the quiet waters of river bend.
Later that day he saw a human child playing in the forest, not far from the riverbank. He thought for a moment of interveneing this, but decided against it as the Forest wasn't his to guard nor rule, even tho he didn't approve the situation.
On the Madamsday he listened the worries of the young of his court.
He promised to escort them once their first joyrney down the river would come.
On the Bathingday he remembered it wasn't appropriate to walk on land without clothing and so he summoned foam of the river to be his dress and small waves to be his robes.
They giggled at their lord's forgetfulness as he smiled gently at them and pretend not to hear their jesting.
And on the Sunsday he had a dream.
And he laught.
And he cried.
On Warsday he crossed the old bridge that has been built over his waters long time ago; the builders long gone. He was slightly worried on how close the human colonizations had spread and on how far they had strayed from nature. He commited the worry in his memory to be properly examinated and to be thought over later as he would have time to do so.
On Middleweek he travelled far in the upstream of one of the rivers running to his arms, finding delight on the chatter of small foams of the rapids, tallying with each one of them, and gently petting their white curls before they ran forward, giggling and whispering during their race.
On Thundersday he rested for a while in the quiet waters of river bend.
Later that day he saw a human child playing in the forest, not far from the riverbank. He thought for a moment of interveneing this, but decided against it as the Forest wasn't his to guard nor rule, even tho he didn't approve the situation.
On the Madamsday he listened the worries of the young of his court.
He promised to escort them once their first joyrney down the river would come.
On the Bathingday he remembered it wasn't appropriate to walk on land without clothing and so he summoned foam of the river to be his dress and small waves to be his robes.
They giggled at their lord's forgetfulness as he smiled gently at them and pretend not to hear their jesting.
And on the Sunsday he had a dream.
And he laught.
And he cried.
tiistai 5. huhtikuuta 2011
When did I fall..?
The first time I ever saw you I hated you; three years older than me; teen with pale grey eyes, like smoke in bars, rough, black hair like stray dog's furr. Thin and messy street boy the mother had picked up to take care of little errands.
Those old, stuttering people who know about these things (or at least pretend to) and like to pick other people's mind would probably say that I was jealouse of the attention mom gave to you.
I don't know about those kind of things, nor I like to think that I'd have used to care about that old hag, so I just say I hated you.
When I hate someone, I insult them.
And so I started to bark my mind for you, telling what exactly I thought there was wrong with you and calling you by names.
Childish of course, but really, I was nothing else than a child myself.
It was then that I learnt that you have no tolerance with loudmouths, nor did you care I was younger than you.
You put me down without mercy, using your superior height and weight without remorse.
I rather think I've never have a beat up like that.
The ease with what you won made me dislike you even more, and so I took it as my new habit to insult you when ever given the chance. It usually resulted in scuffle very soon and even more often in me getting beaten up.
I think it was during one of those times when you sat in my back, year or two later, keeping me down with only your body-weight that I realized I wanted to be like you.
I didn't want to be just a brat to you, but someone who you listened, maybe even respected as an equal.
I one word; I wanted to impress you.
It was of course a secret; one so well kept that even I myself didn't realize it but a years later when I was wasted and getting nostalgic.
What a funny world.
As I never really matched you in height or weight (curse that old hag for giving me her short genes), I started to train in other respect, and slowly our brawls came less one-sided as I started to gain more skills in fighting. Back then I didn't realize it (or if I did, I shut it in the deepest part of my subconsciousness), but my insults became just a way to get you angry and to fight with me.
I still held up the mask of disliking you.
As I turned sixteen the Mother assigned us -us of the all people- to be partners in business and in the streets. An idea that rouse many questions and few of objections, not least from us ourselves, but was carried through as all Mothers decicions none the less.
We almost got ourselves killed on the first mission.
And on the one after that.
And after that.
The people we were pointed to work with turned out to be snitches for the patrol, or othervice traitors for their own good, or having an rancor against the Mother.
Suddenly we had no-one to trust to.
Someone who's titled as clever has once said (or so I have heard), that people who can't trust anyone have three opinions; one: became grazy, two: kill themselves or three: learn to trust someone.
We started to trust eachother.
It took me some time to figure it out, but I realized later that that was what the Mother had aimed at the whole time. We had been set up with known traitors and other threats to be brainwashed to trust eachother. You realized it too, as you weren't stupid, regardless what I have said for years.
Of course, realizing it doesn't make it go away.
So we continued to trust eachother and just add Mother to the list of people to be paranoid about.
That list seems to be too long these days.
We still tease and insult eachother, the fistfight is just the result more less these days; you take your anger out on other people now as you "need me alive" you say.
We still hurt eachother.
Maybe it's deep-rooted habit we'll never fully escape.
You're my damned best fucking friend.
I don't want to love you...
sunnuntai 3. huhtikuuta 2011
Part-humans: Gerians
Few generatios ago in the northern-east province of Gerian happened the greatest alchemic disaster so far in the history of Talais.
An alchemic laboratory that laid within the boundaries of the province caught fire and burned down, expoding huge amounts of alchemic waste all around.
This disaster killed hundreds of people and hamstrung thousands, but the real terrors of the cathastrophe were only revealed in following generatios of effected people and fauna.
The descendants had severe, monsterous mutations starting with several extra limbs and leading to hideous, unnatural changes in their mental and physical states.
In current generations the most drastic mutations seem to have tuned down, but mutations of whole new kind have also been born as the elder generation of these persons now being called as "Gerians" have married eachother.
Gerians have swifty started to develope their own subculture as the clans wandering around Talais have become more permanent.
Most human communities treat the Gerians with fearful suspicious or violent hate, but communities with more inhuman connect (like places with Kires culture around) have more tolerance towards them.
Kires themselves accept most Gerian without so much as the bat of eye, maybe becouse many Gerians have Kiresian ancestors.
At the moment it is under debate if Gerian should still be defined as part-humans, or as race of their entire own.
An alchemic laboratory that laid within the boundaries of the province caught fire and burned down, expoding huge amounts of alchemic waste all around.
This disaster killed hundreds of people and hamstrung thousands, but the real terrors of the cathastrophe were only revealed in following generatios of effected people and fauna.
The descendants had severe, monsterous mutations starting with several extra limbs and leading to hideous, unnatural changes in their mental and physical states.
In current generations the most drastic mutations seem to have tuned down, but mutations of whole new kind have also been born as the elder generation of these persons now being called as "Gerians" have married eachother.
Gerians have swifty started to develope their own subculture as the clans wandering around Talais have become more permanent.
Most human communities treat the Gerians with fearful suspicious or violent hate, but communities with more inhuman connect (like places with Kires culture around) have more tolerance towards them.
Kires themselves accept most Gerian without so much as the bat of eye, maybe becouse many Gerians have Kiresian ancestors.
At the moment it is under debate if Gerian should still be defined as part-humans, or as race of their entire own.
torstai 31. maaliskuuta 2011
Ïl
Lord of Lies
Betrayer of Heart
Weaver of Night
Name: Il
Age: Old geezer
Gender: None
Orientation: None?
Birthday: Long time ago
Eyes: Burning sunset orange with black sclera or pale blue with darker blue pupil,depending on who is in charge. Sometimes one of each simultaneously.
Hair: Long, white, loose curls.
History: Il might or might not own a small shop in shadier streets of Nowhere. This shop is one of those which no one ever notices until they need it, or maybe one of those that you notice one day, but have no time to examine that moment, and when you come back later, you can’t find it anywhere, even as you could have sworn it was right here...
Age: Old geezer
Gender: None
Orientation: None?
Birthday: Long time ago
Eyes: Burning sunset orange with black sclera or pale blue with darker blue pupil,depending on who is in charge. Sometimes one of each simultaneously.
Hair: Long, white, loose curls.
History: Il might or might not own a small shop in shadier streets of Nowhere. This shop is one of those which no one ever notices until they need it, or maybe one of those that you notice one day, but have no time to examine that moment, and when you come back later, you can’t find it anywhere, even as you could have sworn it was right here...
Ïl is a weaver of finest kind, with refined skills and eye for details, and for a right price they can make your wildest dreams come true.
Despite of being weaving mill, the shop is full of exotic reptiles and snakes and air in there is full of spicy and rare incenses.
Il themselves refer to self as “we” and it seems there is two more or less individual personas entangled together. They do seem to be able to tell each other apart – if they bother...
They have fosterchild in their care, who they seem to tolerate better than other people in general.
Despite of being weaving mill, the shop is full of exotic reptiles and snakes and air in there is full of spicy and rare incenses.
Il themselves refer to self as “we” and it seems there is two more or less individual personas entangled together. They do seem to be able to tell each other apart – if they bother...
They have fosterchild in their care, who they seem to tolerate better than other people in general.
Personality: Bad. Sarcastic, egoistic, sly and mischievous. Proud, intelligent tactician. Greedy for any kind of profit
Associations: Slowly decaying flowers, especially white lilies and roses, hermit, spicy incenses, dreams, ray of afternoon sun warming up one spot in dusty room, the center direction
Likes: Reptiles, snakes, fine cloth and jewelry, good tea, warmth, mind games, power games, playing against the odds, dusk and dawn, Medame (albino boa), dancing, having power over someone, being obsessed over.
Dislikes: Chains, being ruled over, bright light, when things don’t go their way (hardly never happens); people who try back out from the contract, cold, too much work, rush, hurry loud and sudden noises.
Title: White hermit, Weaver of dreams.
keskiviikko 30. maaliskuuta 2011
In the beginning...
In the beginning there was nought but the Universe and she was all that be.
But in her endless dreams she felt lonely and so the forth she brought the water bird. And the water bird was her companion for the endless dreams and it delighted her.
In her delight she bore children, born from the whim of her mind and they, too, became her companions in her endless dreams.
In a time -or another- the waterbird laid an egg and one of the children took an interest in it, for it was beautiful egg; light blue and spotted; its shell smooth and cool.
And the endless dreams passed.
The child who held the egg dropped it. And it hit the hard edge of the endless dreams and broke; its essence spalttered and broken.
The child took apart the yolk and the albumen and laid them carefully on the weave of the endless dream. And the child cried for the lost of the egg and the tears got mixed up in the albumen;
the world of Talais was born.
But in her endless dreams she felt lonely and so the forth she brought the water bird. And the water bird was her companion for the endless dreams and it delighted her.
In her delight she bore children, born from the whim of her mind and they, too, became her companions in her endless dreams.
In a time -or another- the waterbird laid an egg and one of the children took an interest in it, for it was beautiful egg; light blue and spotted; its shell smooth and cool.
And the endless dreams passed.
The child who held the egg dropped it. And it hit the hard edge of the endless dreams and broke; its essence spalttered and broken.
The child took apart the yolk and the albumen and laid them carefully on the weave of the endless dream. And the child cried for the lost of the egg and the tears got mixed up in the albumen;
the world of Talais was born.
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