therealguy-thebestguy2

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Who Can You Trust? - Therren Feywind

Journal Entry 4 — Hello sister,

It’s been a while. I should have talked to you sooner but… I didn’t. I talked to Simon, though. It’s been so hard to make sense of these thoughts in my head, maybe if I take my time and go through them it will become clearer. Like Maximilian taught me to.      

So, some days ago now, we went on another adventure. This one had a little more direction than the last ones. Missing people from the town, dire consequences. Then again, there always seems to be dire consequences no matter how the adventure starts. Danger is an open flame and we are but moths, destined to dance around it until the day we finally get too close.      

Nymatra was there, as usual. Things are still… hard to read with her. At this point I don’t even know whose fault that is. Did I do something? Did she do something? I suppose we’ve both been complicated. I wish social interactions could just make sense. Nature was never this complicated. Hemmel, a dwarven man, joined the group too. Reminded me a lot of our friend Thymus. Say what you will about dwarves, but they build those bastards tough. That alone is worth respect.      

Maximillian was also there. You know, he grows on you. There’s just something, I don’t know, comforting? Something comforting about him. Even when he says something like how there’s “definitely no traps”, and you know there’s no way he could really know that so he’s probably full of shit, something in me just wants to believe him. Which, well, it can lead to problems. Sorry, I’m jumping ahead. Like I said, everything is a confusing mess. I’ll start over.      

So, we went out to some miserable swamps to track down some missing people, like I said. Found our way to some creepy looking outpost, tracks from the missing people leading inside. And some other tracks we couldn’t place. We were investigating the tower and, remember the thing I said about traps? I think we set off every trap possible along the way. If only Max’s faith that there were no traps was strong enough to make it so. Then again, we made it through all those traps without so much as a scratch. Maybe there is power in faith after all? Everything in my life is crazy, so why not?      

On the other side of some close encounters we ran into the things responsible for those tracks we couldn’t place, and had an even closer encounter. Strange lizard-folk. Like just about everything in these cursed lands, they were not interested in a non-violent solution.      

Close-quarters in a tower, not a great place to be relying on the range of a bow in a fight. I didn’t need your depth of experience to figure that one out. And these powers I have, they give me considerable strength in a close fight. But, I don’t know, I used my bow. I was scared, alright? I… I don’t like it. Whenever I, when I shift, it… changes me. I don’t like who I am when that happens.      

It was a selfish and irrational decision, a stupid decision. I knew it was the wrong tactical choice, and I made it anyway. And… and I paid for it. One of the lizards was shooting back at me. I was doing my best to avoid it, dodged one arrow, but there’s just so little space to move in an environment like that. Bastard got me good. Left myself open and he got me right in the neck. I barely had time to react to it.      

All the strength left me, and before I knew it I was on the ground. I tried to move my arms and legs, pick myself back up and keep fighting, but they wouldn’t move. I couldn’t even feel them. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nymatra, taking cover on the staircase. I tried to call out for help, but I was choking. Drowning. I could feel the warmth and that coppery taste that I have unfortunately become familiar with as of late. Blood. Probably a lot of it. More arrows bounced off the stone wall beside her and she retreated further down the stairs and out of site.

I was alone, things were getting blurry and dark and quiet, and then something unexpected happened. I saw rolling, forested hills, immaculate grass-swept plains, a stream fed by a small, calm waterfall. Everything had this strange haze to it, and perfect sunset-colours. It almost looked like the fey wilds, but not quite. There was a warmth unlike anything I had ever felt. Every part of my senses told me I was safe, and loved. And… and Simon was there, sister. I was lying there, on the softest grass I had ever felt by the bank of the river, and I saw his familiar boots approach from the water’s edge. It couldn’t be him, just another trick of the mind, like when the Lion attacked Nymatra. Simon was gone, I saw what happened to him. But it was him. The same silver robes with the blue crescent moon. The same kind cerulean eyes. He crouched down, held my face in his hands. There was a sadness in his eyes, but he smiled. He said “It’s okay, let go” and he lifted me to my feet. A look over my shoulder and the sadness in his eyes deepened. “I’ll be right here. It’s okay to let go.”      

And then things got weirder, if that’s possible. I was standing there, by the river, forest all around. But I was also in the tower, Maximilian’s hand glowing on my neck. My confusion was drowned out by a flood of familiar anger, and the beast took hold again. I smelled blood, anger and fear. It was intoxicating, like being starved and smelling the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted suddenly in arms reach. It creeps me out thinking about how much I enjoyed that smell. Seconds later, and the two lizard-folk were in pieces. One moment they were there, and then the next moment they weren’t. I had torn them apart.      

Just then Nymatra charged back up the stairs, hands crackling with eldritch energy and a fiercely determined look in her eye, shouting “I’ll save you!” Better late than never, right? It’s a lot braver than I was when I abandoned you and Simon. The group took a moment to heal and gather their strength, relieved to have a reprieve from the monsters that lurk in the tower. But are they really safe? There’s another monster, in me, how can they be sure it won’t turn on them?      

I was walking through the tower, but at the same time I was walking through that strange etherial place. I couldn’t shake it. even when we got back to town I couldn’t shake it. I knew I was at the tavern, but I was also there in the woods. I can’t make sense of it. Sorry, I’m skipping ahead again. I’ll go back.      

One last push, to the top of the tower. Up a ladder, and a terrifying massive serpent awaited, along with some kind of magical lizard sorcerer. Before I knew it, the snake was on Max. Tangled around him and damn-near devouring him. My eyes darting from the serpent to the sorcerer, I took in as much information as I could as fast as possible. My beast snarled, pulling at the chain as I glared at the sorcerer. I knew it had to be some kind of magic, that he was the key to stopping the serpent and saving Max. I think I knew that. Did I know that? I remember being angry, I remember thinking about the other lizard-folk I had torn apart. I remember the hunger. Was I trying to save Max? I hope I was. I hope I didn’t just choose to leave him to die.      

I let the anger erupt inside me. I was gone and the wolf was in my place. Without a second thought I charged right for the sorcerer. The serpent lashed out at me with a hit that might have knocked me out in my elven form, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was the lizard. With a leap I was on him, teeth tearing at his form, trying to find purchase on his scales. With the lizard knocked to the ground, the serpent vanished. Was that the plan, or did I get lucky?      

The lizard had tricks of his own, shifting into the massive form of a crocodile. Its massive jaw clamped down on me, and my world became pain and anger. The pain threatened to overwhelm me, but the anger won out. Mind focussing, I found a target. Maybe I couldn’t get through its scales, but I didn’t need to anymore. I bit down on the creatures tongue and pulled with all my strength. We battled with nightmares, and mine was stronger. I walked away from that tower, he didn’t. The others managed to rescue some of the missing people. I’m a little vague on the details, my mind was on other things.      

We got back to town, and still I’m in the etherial woods. But I’m somewhere else. I can’t seem to find Simon again. I’ve been keeping to myself in town. Didn’t have time to go off on adventures, I needed to find Simon again. I even organised to go back to the tower in the swamp. I thought maybe going back to where I saw him last time would let me see him again.      

Travelling alone seemed dangerous, so I asked Nymatra to come with me. I think I trust her the most. She thought it’d be too dangerous to go without more protection and suggested bringing Max, but I kind of freaked out at the idea of sharing what’s going on with a group and cancelled it. But taking Max was a good idea, so I went to ask Max if he could go with me and- oh wow that sounds way worse than it is when I write it down like that, I- No, okay, it doesn’t just sound bad, that was pretty bad of me. Am I a shitty person? Damn it.      Anyway, yeah, I went to talk to Maximilian. About a lot of things. About what I saw, how I was feeling, my confusions. I really opened up to him. I haven’t really done that with anybody. I mean, I’ve told Nymatra a few things, but this was more than that. It’s just so easy to talk to him, and unlike any other time I relive my memories, I actually feel better with Max’s help. He’s very reassuring, and his advice somehow simple but something you never thought of.      

He agreed to go to the tower with me, which was relieving. I just feel like, whenever he’s in my group, I know we’ll get through it and make it back home. We talked about Simon. About how he was religious like Max. About my history with Simon, how we loved each other. I never really told anyone that before. But I guess I just feel safe talking to Maximilian.      

Maximilian talked about his religious stuff, about Pholtus, and there’s definitely part of me that really likes hearing about that stuff. He just seems so confident and assured about it. I think wish I had that kind of faith. I’ve never been that sure about anything. We reached the tower, but nothing for me. Just more unrecognisable forest. Retracing steps through the tower, and still nothing familiar. Back to that room in the tower, to the spot that I fell, the blood still staining the ground where I laid. Still nothing. No stream. No lazy waterfall. No Simon. No matter what I tried, I could not find my way back to him. I was half way to asking Max if he could beat me into another near death experience when I realised how ridiculous I was being. The whole trip had been a waste of time. I was not going to see Simon again.      

But Maximilian had another suggestion. I think it was some kind of religious technique? I don’t know, I’m not sure how any of that works. He guided me through some technique to get in touch with my memories. At first I thought it was another dead end, I was just seeing more of the same. Then I remembered Simon speaking, like last time but… not like last time. It was the same memory, but there were details I noticed that I had missed the first time, words that I had somehow forgotten. What Simon had said was “It’s okay to be angry. But you have to let me go. I’ll be right here when you’re ready. It’s okay to let go” I don’t know how I could have forgotten something like that, or missed it. Maybe the trauma and heightened emotion of the near-death experience had impaired me? Or maybe it was the distraction of being healed?      

Maximilian asked me what that meant, why I was angry, so I told him everything. That horrible night when I lost you, Sister. When I lost Simon, and the rest of the group. The nightmares that came after. The fear and hatred. The beast that lives inside me. But Max told me the beast was not evil, that if I let go and allowed the beast to take control he could prove it to me. It was a crazy idea, but I went along with it. Like I said, even when you know there’s no way he could know something for sure, he makes you want to believe him. I braced myself, took a deep breath, and let the beast out.      

I’m not sure what I thought would happen. Maybe I thought I would tear his throat out, or that I would bite his tongue off. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t what happened. Nothing happened. The beast tested Maximilian, decided it liked him, and gave me back control. Afterwards Max told me he could sense when there was the presence of evil, and he sensed no evil from me.      

So I guess Maximilian is right. I guess Simon’s right. I’m not a monster. The beast is not a monster. Simon told me it was okay to let go. I don’t know if he meant let go of him, or let go of the fear of the beast inside. I guess either way it’s good advice. Maybe it’s time I start living again. Time to stop existing in that dark forest. Make some decisions for myself, learn more about Pholtus with Max. I’ll see my friends and family again someday, but for now I’m ready to move on.      

You will always be in my heart, but this is the last we’ll speak for some time. Goodbye Thiala.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Fear No Monsters - Therren Feywind

Journal Entry 3 — Hey Sis,

Today was actually a pretty okay day. I mean, all things considered. It’s still pretty dicey, but any improvement’s a good thing, right? We went on another adventure today. Some new faces, some old faces. This one guy, Maximilian, actually seems worse at the whole words thing than I am. And yet, it didn’t seem to stop him. He just kept on words-ing regardless. And, somehow, it all seemed to work out. It’s honestly kind of infuriating, and yet, I kind of like him.   Nymatra was there, too. I think that makes me feel better. I don’t know. She seemed different today, though. Less… her? Specifically around me. I think maybe I offended her when I said I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here anymore. Why am I so bad at this? Words-ing is complicated, for everyone except Max. Good for him. Prick So we encountered this goblin guy. Weirdest thing. He wasn’t trying to kill us. First goblin I’ve ever seen who wasn’t a horrible monster. Instead, he was just horrible. Giblets? Gibbons? I’m not good with names. He sold a bunch of suspect goods, for confusing prices. Sleazy, dumb, annoying. All around, a pretty good guy as far as goblins go.

Gibbles? Gobbles? Gerbils? Whatever. The goblin mentioned his “friends” the other goblins didn’t like him very much, the same ones we were headed for. We ran into them and, as is becoming kind of a trend these days, we walked right into a dangerous fight. I don’t know why I keep letting myself get dragged into these situations. One of the new guys just about got killed by a falling boulder, but he’s okay. People aren’t constantly dying around me anymore, just almost dying. Like I said, any improvement’s a good thing, right?

I continue to be amazed at my skill with a bow. You weren’t just a good protector, sister, you were a great teacher. Combat was never my thing. And yet here I am, saving people and protecting them. You’re not gone. You’re still here with me, watching out for me. Giving me the strength to watch out for everyone else. I picked off some of the goblins that ambushed us with a proficiency even you would have been proud of. I mean, I don’t have a feel for finding weak spots the way you do, but I’m hitting my targets. That’s pretty good, right? I’ll admit, it’s nice to feel… useful, for a change. What’s happening to me? Throwing myself into danger, day after day. And, spirits I must be crazy, I think I’m actually starting to enjoy it? Maybe I’m just happy that no one’s died in a little while. I always felt so powerless, good for little more than running away. But something has changed in me. I don’t know if it’s good, it doesn’t feel like it’s good, but I’ve been able to do good things with it at least. For now.

We got back to town and I talked with Jennifer again. Something about talking with her makes me want to be here. It’s kind of like how I felt when I spent time with Simon. I feel such a curious soul from them, it’s inspiring. I’d avoided talking to her after the last adventure. After that experience, I couldn’t be around anyone. Still running away, aren’t I sister? For all the changes, I guess deep down I’m still just me. Why couldn’t I face her that night? Here I am, already planning out the next excuse to talk to her in my head, yet when I’m in a bad place I can’t face her. Gah, I don’t know what I’m doing. People are so difficult.

Well, until the next excuse, thanks for listening Thiala.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

The Beast Without, The Beast Within - Therren Feywind

Journal Entry 2 — Sister,      

Was it a mistake coming out here? I mean, I didn’t really have much choice, but you know what I mean. Things just always seem to go from bad to worse. How do I escape that forrest? How do I move past it. My body escaped, made it to the town, but my spirit remains. There, in that clearing, with the bodies. I exist there. That is home now. How do I fix it. You always were there to help me, you always showed me the way out. But you’re laying there. You can’t show me the way anymore. How did you do it? How were you always unafraid? How did you know all the answers? Please, I really need you now.      

Today was bad. We were off on our second outing, not halfway through the journey when we wandered by a lion, of a sort. It was there, minding its own, and I was just making notes about the creature when all of a sudden the barbarian is approaching the lion. The lion must have heard it coming, because it rose up and, spirits, it was enormous. Like the creatures in my nightmares. The creatures of the forest. They haunt me still.  

Nymatra, the tiefling from before, tried to attack the beast with her lightning-like powers. In a way, she reminds me of you, watchful and protective. But she’s not as level-headed as you. You always told me never to fight unless you absolutely had to. A careful elf is a long-lived elf. A lesson I wish I had taken more to heart. I’m trying, I really am. The attack seemed not to harm the beast, but it was angered and headed towards us. I remembered that day, I tried to hide, tried to wish it to go away, but it kept coming. Closer and closer, frighteningly fast. I told myself it’s just another animal, tried to reach out to it, one spirit to another, the way our village shaman Elaandra taught me when I was a boy. But this was no ordinary lion. As it got closer I could see just how monstrous it was. Its will was so strong, its spirit so angry. It shrugged me aside. I strained and strained, reaching out with all of my strength, and finally got through to it on a final attempt. But the beast was so full of anger. It had been threatened, and it would not forgive. I did everything I could to stop the violence, sister, I swear I did. But it was proud, and would not be reasoned with.      

The beast leapt at frightening speed, straight at Nymatra. In seconds she was down, and the beast made to tear her apart. Simon’s voice screamed out at me to run, and every part of my body screamed along with him. I had to get out of there. Even the spirit of the beast seemed to be telling me to leave. Flashes of that night pierced my mind. Thymus, Dorlen, Isabella, and you. Especially you, sister. It flooded my head until it felt that it might burst. I was terrified but, more than that, there was this pressure. This heat. There was an anger that burned from inside me. Something primal. Not unlike what I had felt from the beast when I reached out to its spirit. I’ve been angry before. Memories of that night, of leaving you behind. Waking up from a nightmare to find pillows and sheets shredded. Nails transformed into claws, fur growing out of my skin. This was something different, something… more. I was there in the forest, seeing that creature standing over you. Only I wasn’t me, I was one of the wolves. I had to save you, I had to try. I couldn’t leave you, not again. Win or lose, life or death, I won’t leave you. We’ll always be connected.      

The fight is a blur. Masses of flesh, claws, teeth, blood. So much pain and anger. Eventually things calmed down. Somehow, I was standing and the beast was not. Thanks to you. Only… it wasn’t you. I wasn’t in the forest, there were no wolves, you weren’t there. Nymatra was. I’m still trying to figure that out. Some other stuff happened that night, the details aren’t really important. Today was weird but, thinking about it, we all survived. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe today wasn’t quite so bad. Well, it was pretty bad. But it could have been worse. But, like, it was horrible. I’m talking in circles, sorry. I still don’t know if I’m cut out for this. You were the brave one, sister. You were the strong one. I don’t know how any of this works without you. I don’t know. Maybe… maybe I can be brave too? And maybe the world is a kind place where people don’t always die around me. Probably not. You always believed in me, sister. I need you here now, because I don’t know how to do that. I will try. I will try to keep going. I will try to survive. I will try to be brave and strong. Because I know you would want me to. Be seeing you, Thiala.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Death And Rebirth - Therren Feywind

Journal Entry 1

—

Dear Thiala,

I knew coming here would be a mistake. Not that I had much of a choice. Baking makes sense, dungeons and battlefields do not. The town was nice enough, I suppose, and the people were… interesting? Different.

I was roped into an adventure almost immediately. I suppose I’ve always a talent for finding trouble. You’re not here to save me from it anymore though. I’m with a new group now. There was another druid, which was cool. We actually had things in common. One of them is a tiefling, I think I made a bad impression. I turned down a drink, and I think I might have accidentally been racist? demonist? I’ve never been good at words, it doesn’t make sense like writing does. But then, other stuff happened… It’s very confusing. Sorry sister, I’m jumping ahead.

So we went to this church infested with kobolds. I wasn’t looking for a fight but the wizard was a madman. Turned everything into a frenzy and was immediately cut down. I just tried to remember what you taught me, practicing with bows in the forrest. I could almost feel you correcting my stance, shifting my arms. Still looking out for me. I did pretty good. Not as good as you, obviously, but I hope you would have been proud. Everyone made it through, for a change.

But the fates remain cruel, however, no matter where I run to. The wizard… did I say he was a madman? He started casting this spell and… and he was gone. Fire. Pieces of him everywhere. Damn near killed us all. It felt like being back there, sister, in that forrest clearing, when you… when I left… you know. It felt like that.

So the tiefling died, but… then she didn’t. The flames surrounded her and I knew I had lost another one. She was gone. And then the flames seemed to be pulled into her, and she drew breath. I can’t explain it. I’m good with medicine, you know I’ve always been good with medicine. She wasn’t just knocked out. I saw her and I’m telling you she died. I’m sure of it. But she woke up, she got up and walked around and was her again. I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or horrified. Spirits, I’m still not sure.

And, well, other stuff happened too. The tiefling was complaining about her clothes being covered in… well, covered by wizard. I offered to clean them later and, uh… ### (crossed out words, something about nudity and a kiss)

So, that happened, and we kept going through this dungeon thing below the church. Found some things of value, but the kobolds had escaped. At least I managed to be useful.

The rest of us made it back to town and were rewarded. I don’t have much use for gold, so I donated most of it to helping the town get up and running. I did keep a little bit aside though. I know you’d want to make sure I can protect myself.

Oh, and there was this woman in the town guild. An elven scribe called Jennifer. She knew so much about the plants and animals. I talked with her about these strange bunny/squirrel things we saw, and these weird poisonous centipedes the kobolds used in some kind of trap. I don’t even know how long we talked for. She had all these notes, things I didn’t even know, and things about new creatures out here. For a while there, it actually reminded me of why I wanted to go adventuring in the first place. The world can be a very beautiful place. When it’s not busy taking people away from me.

Sorry. It’s been a rough, but interesting day. You always said things get better, and I’m sure they will. They have to. I’ll talk to you soon.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

What Lurks In The Night - Therren Feywind

Therren Feywind’s DnD Druid Backstory for West March campaign  — I was a younger man when I joined my first adventuring party with my sister Thiala. Things were different then, I was different. We wanted to see the world, have fun, that kind of stuff. Well, my sister did mostly. She was always the adventurous one. A natural born ranger, just like father. She had her heart set on adventure, but she was very protective of me and would never leave me behind. It wasn’t a week into our group’s journey when our campsite was attacked one night. I remember screaming and shadows swimming by the light of the fire. These… creatures… I struggled to get a good look at them. Everything was chaos. Simon yelled at me to run, and when I turned to face him he was engulfed by a mass of fur, screaming face illuminated by the glow of the holy symbol around his neck. It was like a bear but… not. It was… wrong, somehow. Twisted. More creatures all around, bears and wolves, all of them wrong. All of them warped, like the conjurations of a nightmare. Gathering my senses, I ran. But I wasn’t fast enough, didn’t heed Simon’s warnings soon enough. I didn’t notice the wicked not-wolf until its jaw was latched around my arm, having materialised out of the shadows and into the dim light of the campfire now 30 some-odd feet from me, dragging me down to the ground. I kicked out at the creature’s face, managing to stun it and free myself. I scrambled along the ground, backing away from the creature, but it was faster than I was. Shaking its head, the creature refocussed and pounced at me, no doubt to pin me to the ground. I rolled away, managing to keep clear of it, but not without a price. One of its paws slammed down beside my head, its horrible claws tearing along my face. I continued to back away from it, arms and legs desperately dragging me across the ground. Warm blood dripped from my face into the ground, and as I once again reached behind me to drag myself away, the soil became slicker. Dirt became mud, clearings became foliage. The wolf continued towards me. Nowhere to go, no time left. No energy left to fight. It lunged towards me, swiping at the foliage next to my head. I was completely still, yet somehow it had missed me. The creature sniffed, circled around, sniffed again. Eventually it moved off. Somehow it had been unable to sense me, as if the forest itself had shielded me. When I had time to think about something other than saving myself, I remembered my sister. I had left her behind. She would never leave me, I had to go back and find her. It was just turning light when I found the campsite. Ruined tents, blood, a couple of bodies torn to shreds so badly I couldn’t tell if one was Thiala or not. The rest must have fled or been dragged away. All the trouble she had gotten me out of, and this is how I repaid her. I don’t remember how long I walked for after that. Weak, injured, I eventually reached the edge of the forest and made it to the town we were headed to. I was the only one who made it. None of the party were there, and none came there after. I couldn’t return home and face my parents, not after what I had let happen to my sister. Abandoning my call to adventure, I took up residence in the town and a profession. Life as a baker is a simpler life, but far safer. I’ve tried my best to put those days behind me, but the memory of that night still haunts me in a very literal sense. A letter had arrived for me, informing me that I, as a member of that adventuring party, was still bound to carry out the terms of the contract the group had accepted, and expected to journey to the rift and embark for the West Marches. The reminder of that night fills me with pain, anger, hatred. And their names are burned into my memory. Thiala, Simon, Thymus, Dorlen, Isabella.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Well Enough Alone

The trash-punk theme blasted through the open doorway behind the blonde as she made her way through the back exit into the alley. The place was a little close to the bad part of town, but they play the music loud and water down the drinks far less than you'd expect for such low prices. Sometimes that's all you need. Besides, going from the bad parts of town to the nice ones just means trading 'probably going to get mugged' for 'definitely going to get over-charged for everything'. A robbery is a robbery, at least here they don’t expect you to thank them for the trouble. 

The door swung shut behind the blonde, separating her from the noise and the people. She took a few deep breaths and unslung her purse from her shoulder, willing herself to calm down. She just needed some fresh air. Or, at least, what passes for fresh air in the miserable heat and humidity this time of year. If she thought her day was bad before, it got much worse when she spotted her boyfriend on a 'business trip'. He clearly wasn't in Paris, but maybe the girl he was grinding away on was named Paris, so he could still be in Paris at the end of the night. 

She took a cigarette out from a half-empty pack in her purse and could just about make out the "Smoking Kills" warning label printed on it, under the dim light by the exit. She had told herself she was quitting, but if she packed them in her purse she couldn't have been that serious about it. 

Even from outside, you could still hear the song muffled through the walls. It was loud enough that she didn't hear the person coming until they were almost next to her. First she notices the face, 'wait, is that Sa-?' Then the glint of metal in their hand. Then the screams, unnoticed from inside the club, drowned out by the music her boyfriend danced along to as he continued to do his best to spend the night in Paris.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

A killer on the streets, And a killer in the sheets Oh god they’re everywhere Is… is that a knife?

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

I can’t be your Tourniquet

Maybe If I can just keep still You won’t notice me When you stumble and need something real.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

That Personal Touch (Three Conversations And A Shower)

The second story following my Rogue Trader character Anastasia. The first can be found here

“Thank you, it really means a lot to me” Anastasia said, standing by the medical bay door. “Just don’t fuck up. Be nice.” The Lord Captain said, already leaving. Anastasia smiled at the two guards “I’ll try to behave myself, boys. See you in a while.” With that, she entered the medical bay, locking the door behind her. Ahead of her was a small row of surgical tables, with the one in the very middle illuminated by overhanging operating lights. And there, on that table, was just the snivelling little rat she wanted to see.

“Together again, at last. Isn’t this nice here, just the two of us. Cosy. I’m really at my best when it’s just one on one, you know? I find I do all of my best work like this, wouldn’t you agree?” “What the hell do you want, priest?” He spat, straining against his restraints. “Another one of your sermons? I don’t recall your last one going so smoothly, so spare me.” Anastasia strolled over to the side of the surgical table and picked up a data slate, smiling as she did so. “I’m afraid no one’s being spared today, Mister Leopold.” She answered. “I know you like to act tough, keep up appearances around the others, but I can hear the pain shaking in the back of your voice. It’s okay; you’re with people who can care for you now. Just try to relax.” “Oh yes, it’s so easy to relax in these FUCKING RESTRAINTS!” He shook as he struggled, veins popping along his arms and neck, before finally slumping back against the metallic slab. “There, there. Save your strength. We’re going to need it.” Anastasia winked at him, patting his shoulder nurturing. “Of course, we could have been enjoying ourselves without all these restraints. But someone decided to have a little too much fun and thought it would be a good idea to go strangling people.” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly and wagged her finger at him. The man suddenly surged forward, snapping his teeth at the outstretched finger, but Anastasia remained completely unfazed as he was cut short by his restraints barely an inch away. “Now, now. Someone has a temper,” she said, slowly pulling her finger back. “Nobody’s here to throw around any accusations. Let’s have a look at your chart here,” She scanned over the data slate. “Admitted under the name Leopold- can I call you Leo?” The smuggler hissed, a response Anastasia took to be an affirmation. “Exposure to hallucinogenic toxins, multiple contusions, three broken ribs and - you poor thing - several puncture wounds and deep lacerations. My, someone’s been having a bad day.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Because you came at me with a knife you psycho priest!” He screamed, before wincing and laying back down on the table. “It’s okay, Leo. The time for excuses is over now. You know what? Why don’t I go put some music on to help you relax. I find it can be very cleansing to the soul.” Anastasia walked over to a console on the far wall and, after a few presses, began playing some ecclesial music. “You like it? I used to listen to songs such as these all the time as a child. Even now I must admit to a certain fondness for them. Our childhoods held such better days…” She trailed off, staring into some uncertain distance. “I’ve always thought you priests were fucking weird, with your psalms and your prayers..” He said, more out of defiance than anything else. Anastasia blinked and returned her gaze to the smuggler. “Ahh, that reminds me; I’ve always been a fan of iconography myself.” Anastasia continued the conversation, unabated. “And I think it’s only fair to ask if you have a preference,” She went on, crossing the room to a set of drawers, which she proceeded to open, looking for something in particular. “So which would you prefer: the Aquila, the Ministorum icon, or one of the other Adeptus icons?” “Wha- What? What is wrong with you?” He asked, bewildered. “There we are!” Anastasia proclaimed, producing a furled up bag of some kind and placing it on the next table from them. “You know what?” She asked, turning to face the smuggler, an idea sparking in her mind. “Wouldn’t the Medicae symbol be just perfect, given the situation? All those lovely, intricate curves, it’s been a while since I practiced my curves.” “I don’t- what are you doing?” He continued to ask, no less perplexed than he was at his last question. “Oh, I took the liberty of turning off the automated systems while I was putting on the music. I know, I know, you must think me a Luddite for not wanting to use all the fancy machines. In truth, I find that manual work just has a certain… personal touch that you really don’t get with machines.” Anastasia noticed the smuggler giving her a confused look. “Oh, they do the job well, don’t get me wrong. Masterfully efficient, they are. But they just don’t have that flair. There’s no…” She waver her hands for emphasis, searching for the word. “There’s no art, you know? Besides, laboured hands bring one closer to the Emperor.” With her point made, she returned to the bag she had retrieved and began unfurling it, various metallic objects glinting in the operating lights. Straining for a closer look, the smuggler Leopold could make out various blades, clamps and other instruments. “Oh, fuck,” the smuggler exclaimed, remembering their last exchange. “Hmmm,” Anastasia thought to her self as she examined each blade in turn, before finally selecting one. “Aha, there you are.” She turned toward the smuggler, brandishing a scalpel. “Now, you might be thinking, ‘but Anastasia, those scalpels are identical. How can you possibly have a preference?’” He wasn’t. What he was thinking was more along the lines of ‘oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit’. “That’s a fair question,” she continued. “But when you want to excel at an art form, you really have to learn your instruments. You have to make them part of you. And when you do that, you’ll start to notice those important, subtle distinctions. That’s the key, the difference between a good work and a great one.” Anastasia accentuated each point with a flourish of the scalpel. Leopold redoubled his efforts to free himself from the restrains. “Oh, we can’t have you struggling like that. You’ll spoil it.” Anastasia put the scalpel aside and pressed a button, tightening the straps further and rendering him almost immobile. She then picked up an injector and stepped towards him. “I know I said I wanted you to be comfortable, but we both know how much you like to play around. I’m afraid playtime is over, but I’m sure you’ll come to see that work can be just as fun if you only apply yourself. Now don’t worry, this isn’t going to knock you out or make you go all numb, nothing scary like that- this might sting just a little,” She pressed the injector to a vein in his arm and pulled the trigger, releasing the substance into his system. “No, it’s just going to relax your muscles so you don’t move around quite so much. We wouldn’t want you missing anything, after all. You’ll still be able to move your face, breath, talk, but that’s about it… All better?” The smuggler let out some kind of growl in response. With that, Anastasia collected her favourite scalpel and moved towards the man. “Hold on, this is the best part,” Anastasia said, listening to the music. The choir being played over the vox were picking up pace and volume. “It does fill one with such feeling, doesn’t it? And so, we start with the twin serpants.” Anastasia pressed down with the scalpel and the smuggler cried out, joining in crescendo with the choir.

--

The guards stationed outside the medical bay winced as the heard the screams ring out. They had know whatever was to happen in there couldn’t have been good, but it hadn’t prepared them for the reality of it. “Is this really necessary?” The guard on the left broke first and asked the other. “You heard what the Lord Captain said. She has business with the smuggler and-“ The guard on the right was cut off by a particularly loud scream, followed by a few sobs and a gurgle. He gave it a few seconds before continuing. “She has business with the smuggler and is not to be disturbed under any circumstances.” “I know what the captain said, but come on. This is- this isn’t right.  She’s not right,” The left guard finished, raising his voice over yet another scream. “I’m not going to disobey an order. Besides, I’m not about to go in there and tell her to stop. Oh no, I’m keeping several inches of armour plating between her and me. Do you want to unlock that door and try your luck?” A further scream emphasized the right guard’s point. “Well... no. But, but this isn’t right, you know?” The left guard asked, beginning to take the conversation in circles. “Ugh,” The right guard sighed. “Why’d I have to be rostered with you?” “Hey, I heard that!” The left guard whined. “I know. That’s why I said it.” -- “hey, our patient’s awake! How are we feeling?” Anastasia asked in a soothing voice, her head tilted to one side, staring at Leopold the smuggler from her position perched on the adjacent table. “Looks like somebody got a little overwhelmed, passed out from all the excitement. But don’t worry, I waited for you. Wouldn’t want you to miss anything. Pain cleanses the body, dear smuggler, but you have to be conscious to experience it.” Anastasia slid from the table and returned to his side. “Ged away from me you bidch! You freak!” He slurred at her. “It’s alright Leo; we’re up to the easy part now. We’re doing the needle. A nice series of short lines, you’ll love it.” Anastasia repositioned herself above his abdomen, readying herself to set to work once more. Once again, she did so in time with the swelling of the music. She was very much a woman of timing and precision. She made her first cut, and the smuggler began to cry out again. You know, Leopold, you remind me of my father,” Anastasia began, lifting the blade and pointing it at the smuggler’s face, speckling blood onto his features as she did so. He winced and attempted to turn away from the blade, without much success. “Of course, not my real father,” Anastasia continued. “I never knew my real father. Is real the right word to use?” She questioned absent-mindedly as she made another cut, and received a gurgled sob in response. “Yes, exactly, you’re quite right. He took me in and raised me, gave me a set of principles and beliefs, gave me purpose. He taught me just about everything I know. That’s as real as anything, isn’t it? So it makes sense that I came to think of him as my father; in many ways he was. You know, I loved my father.” She made a third incision. The smuggler cried out, before lowering into a whimper. “So you can’t imagine how much it pained me to hear him say those words to me. You know, when you said ‘Get away from me, you bitch.’” She made another incision. “When he said ‘You’re a heretic.’” She cut into him again. “’A traitor.’” Another cut. “’A worthless little orphan’” Yet another cut. “’An abomination.’” The scalpel slid her point home, and then angled back up to cut the other side of the needle. Anastasia paused to examine her work, while the smuggler had become a gurgling mess, before continuing. “I wondered what could have happened to my fathers heart, that he could not find it within him to love me any longer.” Anastasia brought the scalpel back up, cutting the other side of the needlepoint. “I thought to myself, ‘if only I could see what it was that infected my father’s heart so. If only I could find a way.” She continued cutting her way back up, between the curvatures of the entwined serpents. “And so I did. He walked towards me, and the next thing I knew I had disarmed him of his chainsword, torn open his chest.” She emphasised this with another slice along the smuggler’s torso. “And right there, in front of me, was his heart. Suddenly it all became clear to me. I reached down and pulled the heart from his chest. I’ll never forget that final look of horror on my father’s face, as he finally saw the corruption that had so taken hold of his heart, laid bare. I’m glad I got to have that moment of truth with my father; I think that’s important. Relationships are built on trust, and how can you have trust without honesty? If only he’d had more time to correct his mistakes after that. But these things don’t work like that, do they?” She asked, making a final incision to cap off the needle. “There we are, the medicae icon.” Anastasia said proudly, bringing forth a mirror to show the smuggler. He made a garbled noise and a few moans. “I know, the curves aren’t perfect. But every project is an opportunity to improve one’s self,” She apologised, running a finger along the curvature of a serpent that, as far as any eye could see, was a perfect, symmetrical recreation of the medicae icon. As she did so, the smuggler grunted in pain. “Oh, right! You can’t see it properly. It would look upside down to you. Hold on.” Anastasia captured an image of it on her data slate and showed him on the screen. “You- you’re finished?” He managed. “Mhmm.” She beamed. “It- it’s over?” He sobbed, relief beginning to set in. “Oh no, of course not. We still have so many symbols yet, there’s so much more to do. We have to cleanse your body, so that it might be worthy of the Emperor’s anointing flame.” She put the data slate down and picked up the scalpel once more. The smuggler let out a wail. “Come now, if the road is easy then the destination is worthless. “You know, Leo, you should be grateful; to be counted among one such as my father. He was an important man. A powerful man.” Anastasia went on, bringing her blade once more to bear at the smuggler’s face and sprinkling more blood on him. The smuggler was feeling many things at this moment - grateful was, however, not one of these things.

--

Down in engineering, some of the ship’s crew have been forced into hauling equipment and conducting inspections of ship systems. “How much longer are we gonna be stuck down here doing this? Isn’t this servitor work?” Artho rattled off question after question, cursing his luck. “How’s she supposed to buy more servitors if she ain’t been back to port yet?” Torque retorted. “And what are you trying to do, get us both shoved out an airlock? Just try not to think about it,” he grunted as he hefted another crate from the floor. “Hey, you hear about the new crew priest-lady the captain brought on board a few runs ago?” Artho stopped to look at Torque, bemused. “What, is the captain going soft or something? Getting religious all of a sudden? That’s not like her, what does she want with a priest on her ship?” “Nah, nah, it ain’t like that. I hear she’s fuckin’ crazy. Dangerous as the warp, twice as unpredictable.” Torque explained. “No way,” Artho responded incredulously. “Nobody’s that crazy. Well, no one except ol’ Warp Gazer Joe o’course,” he finished, laughing at his own joke. “I’m serious man, she’s scary,” Torque insisted. “She’s cold blooded. Charges into battle without a care in the world, raving about the cleansing embrace of the Emperor over the roar of her flamer.” “Handy in a fight, huh? I guess the captain knows what she’s doing after all.” Artho said, nodding in approval. “Man, you’re not listening to me.” Torque said in a hushed tone. “She’s psycho. You know what they call her? Medichae; devourer of flesh. She’s the freaking Butcher Of Settlement 228!” “No! I heard about that!” Shock spread across Artho’s face. “Settlement 228? That was a colony of ten thousand families. All of them dead, torn apart. Even the children. You’re telling me that was one person, and she’s on our ship now!?” “Exactly, man.” “Emperor Protect.” “Speaking of that, I was thinking maybe I should start showing up to her morning sermons.” Torque said seriously. “You can’t be serious!” Artho replied, having obviously not read the part about him being serious. “You need to be staying as far away from her as possible. Besides, I thought you didn’t believe in all that - how’d you put it - all that ‘superstitious imperial crap’ anyway?” “No, no, you’re right,” Torque agreed. “But I believe in her. And I’m not about to go getting on her bad side by not showing up for prayer.”

Another crewmember approached the two. “What are you guys talking about?” “Oh, hey Rae.” Artho chimed in. “Torque was just telling me about that new psycho priest lady, says he wants to go to her morning prayer thing. I’m trying to talk some sense in to him.” “’Psycho’ Artho, really? That’s kind of insensitive. She can’t help having a disorder. You should go to it, the morning sermons are actually kind of fun. You know, she’s really not that bad when you get to meet her. A little weird, sure, but who isn’t? I was making repairs down in section 17-C, next to the ventilation substation. Next thing I know, there’s a plasma leak. Harmon got it shut down real quick, but not before I burned damn near half my body. The priest just happened to be walking by, making her blessings or whatever to this and that. Saw what happened and rushed over to help. Treated my injuries, pumped me full of the good stuff, didn’t feel a thing. Her hands were moving so fast, it almost seemed like they were glowing, but she made it seem like it was nothing at all. And she was so nice the whole time. Felt sorta like being back with my mother, y’know? If my mother weren’t such a heinous bitch all the time, I mean. So anyways, I been going to her morning sermons ever since. She just has a way with words, yeah? I don’t really care about all that Imperial Cult crap, but she just makes it sound so nice. And I don’t know if it was her skills with a medikit, the prayer, or maybe that free lemonade she gives out at the morning sermons. Whatever it was, I was fully recovered before I even knew it.”

--

“Now then, how is our smuggler doing? Not planning on losing consciousness yet again?” Anastasia asked. “I’ll only bring you round again. Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for that in a short while.” In response, the smuggler spat blood at her. “Come now Leo, is that any way to treat a friend? And on my favourite robe, too. I wore it just for you, you know. You probably didn’t even notice, did you? Typical male. You know, I wore this very robe the morning before my Confessor testing. Walked through the old grove to calm my nerves. It was such a surreal moment; I hadn’t been there since I was a kid. Seeing all those giant rocks, which now were not quite so giant anymore. I still remembered which ones were lions, wolves and frogs. Older, yet not as brave as I once had been.” Anastasia paused to collect her thoughts, before returning her attention to the present. “Anyway, it would seem we are finished with our iconography. And it’s damn good craftsmanship, if I do say so. Not too much longer now, though I’m afraid now is where it gets messy.” She returned to her spread of surgical instruments and came back with a far more menacing looking blade. “Are we quite comfortable?” “Jus- wait. Jus- tell me what you want,” he pleaded. Anastasia smiled. “My dear mister Leopold… what I want-“ she leaned over him, stroking his cheek affectionately. “- Is to help.” --

“Lord Captain! Coms are reporting a fire alert has been triggered in the ship” “What have they done this time, Jeeves?” She demanded. “Lord, the fire is… in the medical bay.” --

The Lord Captain made down the corridor. “Open it.” She said in a calm and almost disinterested manner while her hand moved toward her pistols. “Yes Lord Captain!” The left and right guard sprung into action, opening the door to Anastasia and the medical bay. The guards weren’t sure what they expected to see beyond that door, but it certainly wasn’t what they did see. Blood and viscera covered every available surface, even the ceiling. In the centre of the room, on top of a surgical table, were the burning remains of what was presumably two thirds of a flayed corpse, give or take. And standing not far from it was Anastasia, coated in what must have been the other third.

She turned crisply towards the captain, activating the fire suppressant system as she did so. Water cascaded down around them drowning out the ambiance of the ecclesial music. It began to extinguish the flames and wash away the blood from the room and Anastasia, curtains of red falling all around her. She walked towards the entrance and stopped in front of the trio at the door. “I feel much better now. Ah, Lord Captain. A pleasure.” She lackadaisically saluted, before setting about tidying her robe. “But, oh my! This robe is soaked! Oh, no no no. This won’t do at all. I can’t be seen by the Lord Captain looking like this.” With that Anastasia walked past her to the opposite wall, examining it absent-mindedly and reciting prayers as if nothing had happened. “Interesting. Someone better clean this up.” The Lord Captain walked away, leaving Anastasia to her incessant ranting. The water may have washed away most of the signs of what had taken place, but neither guard standing by that door would be forgetting the image of that room any time soon. “That which was will be. That which dieth will live. That which falleth will rise up. This, I say to you, is the nature of things, if you but once believe.”

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Tongue Tied and Terrified

I can tell you about the different guys I find attractive, The qualities that draw me to them. That I can do for you no problem. But I cannot tell you everything I find appealing about a woman, Everything that draws me in. Because every time I try, Every single time, It only ever sounds like you.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Perception

She says she loves the sky, And maybe I do too. But mine is dark and speckled,  While hers is brilliant blue.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Rogue Trader Missionary Character

Anastasia Carnicero was raised an orphan by the Schola Progenium in the Calixis Sector of the Imperium, having no memory of a life before being orphaned nor knowledge of her ancestry. Prominent to her world was the Cult of the Emperor Revenant, or Death Cult. All who follow this sect are taught the importance of death and how it brings one closer to the Emperor. With a shared reality that the children of the Schola Progenium were orphaned by parents who had died in service to the Emperor, and born out of a desire to understand such a sacrifice, an intense interest in the Emperor was fostered by Anastasia.

Under the vigilant guide of the Drill Abbots, Valen in particular, this interest flourished into unshakable faith and veneration. Before long Anastasia was being shaped for entry into the ecclesiarch. Finally her life would have purpose; finally she could live up to the sacrifice of her veiled forebearers. She had regarded the day she was accepted into the Ministorum as the happiest of her life.

The life of a preacher was not an entirely wondrous one. Heretical cults and criminal underbellies thrived this far from the safety of the Imperial fleets. Indeed she knew a few peers and Abbotts who had been murdered, no doubt targets of such violent groups. She had even been quite close to a couple, though she had never witnessed any. But death was all part of the Emperors plan, and she would not be deterred from her service to the Emperor.

Her fanaticism would grow to near zealousness as she endeavoured to devote all aspects of her life to the Emperor’s service. Drill abbot Valen suggested she undergo training as a Confessor, which she took to fervently. Finally zealousness was not just a commendable trait but a requirement. She would learn how to talk crowds into frenzies and yield confessions of heresy and corruption. One cannot devote themselves to revealing dark secrets, however, without revealing some of their own. The mysteries of Anastasia’s origin had been brought to light; she owed her existence not to noble parents who served and sacrificed themselves to the will of the Emperor but instead to the unholy genetic experiments of radicals within the Officio Assassinorum.

Who was she really? What was she? Shaken to her very core by this revelation and in need of guidance, she turned once more to the guidance of Drill Abbot Valen. Far fron reassuring, Valen would label her a traitor, an abomination, an insult to the sanctity of life and death. He accused her of murder. A struggle ensued and, by the time Anastasia returned to her senses, Valen was on the ground. He lay there, an unmoving and bloodied mess, as she stood over him, clutching his now gorified chainsword. Anastasia found herself orphaned once more.

Now excommunicated and a hunted woman, Anastasia had no choice but to run. The Cult of the Emperor Revenant maintained strong ties throughout the Calix Sector; so hiding within was not an option. Instead she looked outward to the neighbouring sectors. To the Scarus sector meant drawing closer to the clutches of the ecclesiarch. Coreward to the Ixaniad sector was little more promising lest she wish a life of chaos or decide to test her luck with the ork hoards. Green was never her colour anyway. That left her but one option; outward, to the halo stars and fringe worlds of the Imperium frontier, on the doorstep of the Koronus Expanse.

Hiding was easier out on the frontier. Under the guise of missionary Anastasia was quick to earn the favour of the faithed, while her medicae training earned her the graces of the faithless. She found a sense of permanence. For a time she even began to feel safe. Which, of course, is a mistake that does not go unpunished out on the frontier. Maybe she had become too trusting, or been seen by too many people. Eventually another missionary from The Cult of the Emperor Revenant, a real one, confronted her. She attempted to talk her way out of it, but her incomplete training had betrayed her. The missionary began accusing her of traitorous deeds. Accusing her of murdering fellow priests and abbots, of heresy and corruption. Lies, all of it lies! She knew she had to leave, but she was just, just so angry.

When she came to her senses the missionary had been torn to pieces. People might surely have come by at any moment. If anyone were to stumble across the scene they would misunderstand, blame her for the missionary’s death. She had no choice but to hide it. Later, when there was more time, she could dispose of the body. However, when she returned to the scene there was no sign of the missionary. How could it not be there? Had she imagined it? Confused, and no longer having a body to take care of, Anastasia returned to her personal chambers. Next to her prayer shrine a digi-screen waited for her. As she picked it up, she felt a slight pain before the device beeped happily. Words slowly began scrolling across its surface.

‘You are not alone. We have been watching. Your progress fills us with hope. Don’t worry about the mess. – A friend.’

She did not fully understand the message, and searched the device for some means of control. Finding none, and with no further activity from the device itself, she gave up and tossed it aside.

Strange happenings had begun at the settlement. Sometimes people would go missing. Certain patients presenting with minor injuries would succumb to major complications in treatment. Walking into the centre of town one evening, she began to notice how differently the people treated her. Hushed whispers from far away. As likely to kill you as cure you. Eventually she was confronted by a militia of colonists, led by a man in ecclesiarchal robes. “We know what brought you here,” the man said. “And we’ve seen your work first-hand. It is time you paid for your sins, murderer.” Anastasia made to protest, but felt the anger welling up inside her. She fought to maintain control of herself, reciting prayer “Our Emperor, deliver us-”         Murderer! “Our Emperor, deliver us-”         Heretic! “I beseech thee-”         Abomination!

She felt her hands drawing weapons of their own accord, and had not the strength to stop them. Anastasia could only watch and feel as she cut down colonists with brutal efficiency. As she felt herself raise her chainsword to dispatch of the last of her assailants, he dropped to his knees and cried out “Emperor protect me!”

Anastasia’s hand was stayed, as she felt herself regaining control. She looked at the colonist. He was a young one, not yet a man.

“Deliver me from the blasphemer and the heretic,” He continued, and Anastasia saw him begin to clutch prayer beads. The ornament, she noticed, bore markings of the ecclesiarch.  Rage once again welling up, she brought her chainsword down upon him, cutting him down with the rest.

A woman spoke up from behind her “I fear this world may no longer afford you the refuge you seek. It is time you took your leave.” “What- who are you?” “A friend.” She smiled, walking forward. Anastasia recoiled, seeing that the woman bore a flamer in her arms. “Stay back, else you might share the fate of the others.” The mysterious woman continued unabated, smile unwavering. “Oh, you won’t hurt me.” She said with certainty, closing their distance and brushing aside Anastasia’s weapon. “You sent me that message!” Anastasia realised, recalling the incident in her chambers. “What’s going on? What am I? What-” “Answers will come in time,” the woman interrupted before Anastasia could rattle off her endless questions. “When you are ready for them. For now, just know that we are still so very proud of you. But it is time you took your leave of this place. They will forget your deeds, in time. For now, it is your time to run again. It’s dangerous to go alone, however. Take this.” The woman offered Anastasia the flamer, which she accepted.

With that the woman made to leave as she had come. “Wait, please! Why me?” Anastasia begged for answers. The woman looked back to Anastasia, her expression stony, before softening in pity. “Remember back to your teachings as a child. Your hardships are not a punishment. The Emperor seeks to test you. Earn His love. Be made an instrument of His will. The Ecclesiarch is corrupted, you are needed to heal it.” With that she turned once more and began to walk away. The gentle winds carried her last words back to Anastasia. “Goodbye, Medichae.”

That explained it then. All the times she had blacked out or lost control, it had been the Emperor guiding her actions. All the deaths; heretics plaguing the Ecclesiarch. Purpose restored to Anastasia, she set upon her path. Death is all part of the Emperors will, the Abbotts had instilled this lesson upon her, and she would prove herself worthy of being his instrument. She would be ever vigilant of the corrupted talons of the Ecclesiarch, lest she be ensnared by their impurity again.

Anastasia made her way to the nearest spaceport and secured passage off the colony. It was time to leave this accursed planet. She could not have known that the vastness of frontier space was about to be a lot more dangerous than the colony she left behind, as a Dark Eldar Corsair ship drew near.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

They say it takes more muscles to smile than to frown, and never was that more apparent. It’s amazing how exhausting a smile can be sometimes.

Something I wrote a while ago

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Give it Time

That 'time will tell' bullshit is just that; bullshit. I've been waiting for time to say something to me for years and, if there's one thing that I've learnt in that time, it's that time delights in not speaking. It offers its wisdoms to none. Time is not an answer, time is an ultimatum. And, in my experience, time does not heal wounds, it merely fades scars. The damage remains, it just sinks below the surface and you learn to live with it. You have those days when the minimum requirements for living your life rise above your maximum ability, and all you can do is break. They got half of the equation when they told you that time would make it better. What helps is spending time, spending it with the people who will treat you as normal as you wish you were, the people who have the audacity to make you smile when all you want is to be miserable. The people who can reach through the cracks in your shell and touch the light underneath.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Breaking Up

When people form a connection with each other they tend to build their own little universe around themselves and it can be difficult to see the people around them, or to see themselves from the outside. That’s why they get all ‘couple-ey’. Then of course there’s what happens when things fall apart. Those lines, which at one point collided, continue to extend and bisect each other. Some people move faster than others, leaving the other to revel in their little universe as it collapses around them. Loneliness and claustrophobia are not the best of feelings.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

Restless

I want to run. I want to sing out of key. I want to give my best-worst impression of dancing. I want to be loud at 3 am and not give a fuck. I want to collapse and laugh as I try to catch my breath. And I want someone to share it with.

[therealguy-thebestguy2]

I’ve got a new description of writing/poetry: a means to effing up the ineffable.