What amuses us and other ideas
I must look like the helpful sort. What that ghosts, clueless wizards and inanimate objects all ask me for help. Is it the scowl? It must be my scowl, I should work on that.
Something he said about Rilis the Twelfth scratched at the back of my mind. Like a forgotten recipe for muffins or where I left my staff. Lurking just out of reach..
Leave a CommentI woke up with cool salt air in my lungs and sand under my face. I might have thought it a dream if Wendel’s hot fetid breath didn’t sweep through the moment like a wild horse.
I was in Summerset, though I couldn’t remember why. I seemed to have all my things: Pants? check. Tunic? check. Staff? check. Daedric servant of a mysterious lord who’s presence I cannot elude? check.
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..more ruins. Always more ruins. It’s like the Second Age contributed only stone left to eventually crumble. I was certain there was more to this story, I just needed the proof. But that’s what all scholars yearn for. Validation.
Leave a CommentOr am I driven by curiosity? It was a pleasant hike through the hills regardless, though I was left wondering if there were other kinds of Wight other than Mound Wights. The fellow in town was oddly specific.
Through vale and cave to find a source of evil. Someone said plague though I suspected a different, no less malefic, problem.
But this cave was looking promising. I had a good feeling about this one..
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Many iterations, some repairs and a lot of TLC made the Seshinex Trailblazer my home. Harmonizing with a machine like this isn’t as easy as some would think. I feel like the helm pulls back on me, fighting me for control at times. What I cannot tell is where it’s going, though I can imagine why.
Deep space has a floating quality some might find disconcerting. Acrid air on some worlds makes my joints ache while the dry desert of others causes my shell to sear and crack.
Comments closedWhile my ship is robust it needs more internal capacity. Every corner is jam packed with trinkets from a hundred stars and yet I feel the need to pick up more. This man looked like the kind who would trade efforts with rewards. Yes, just the kind of person I was looking for..
I, Riven Thunderbrand, have trod vale and ridge. Across fields of shapeless form and through realms of maddening consequence. The journey to the Eight Realm is neither for the weak nor the impatient. Only at the culmination of this journey will you find the Exiled Choir and can begin your tutelage.
..some.. The galaxy is a bag of marbles, each is so interesting with flora, fauna and the occasional Sentinel jealously guarding them from us. Surely it’s just us. Travelers.
The first visit to the Atlas will break walls in you. Your mind will open, slowly at first and then quicker as time allows. On the repeat visits you’ll understand more.
As I crawled through space I started to understand. On my 8th visit to the Atlas I wasn’t the shell it thought i was. My cloth stripped away I was as you see me.
Now as I understand myself I’m crawling more stars, finding elegance and depravity where it lay.
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Stars vanish behind me as the ships hurdles through space. Looming before me the orb I once found distant beckons with mysteries yearning for discovery.
Relics from a forgotten time loom out of the horizon, each a story incomplete.
