Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

[I just finished Dragon Age Origins and Awakening, and i wanted a bit of closure. Fingers crossed, i'll still be able to import my Character for Dragon Age 2, but i still want to be on the safe side. Hence, I wish to write a small bit of fanfiction with my Character. If you've read my Poetry Submission for the poetry battle, then you'll know one of the Characters.

Due to this god damn length, I've broken it into two parts.]

Deep in the woods of Orlais, there lived a witch. Her hair was dark as night, and she dressed in rags, yet she was strikingly beautiful. She lived a life of seclusion, deep in the woods far away from civilization, where she spent a few months of her life that she would not forget. She helped fight daemons and monsters alike. She had teased, bantered, tasted betrayal and victory; an adventure she would never forget.

An adventure where she met her love.

Slowly, her hands traced over her stomach, a slight swell growing over her smooth stomach, as she was with child. She glowed ever so slightly, happy to see the rise in her belly. She knew what lay within, and was contented to know that she would have control over this child. It would not be the fearsome thing she had helped quell at the peak of Denerim. She remembered the battle all too well. Lelianna, despite her flaws, had proven useful, leaping upon the dragon to cripple it, and while the archdaemon lay upon the ground, the Grey Warden, her love, drove the final blow into it's skull, freeing the world from the blight for many years to come.

And now, the old god was inside her, growing; the child of the Warden.

She sat in the shade of a tree by a cottage near the lake, protected by the forest. The sun shone high above the water, glimmering, untouched by the evil that had flooded this world nought but months ago. How strange, the witch thought, that this world had been saved by the bravery of one man. The bravery of many, in fact. Yes, Alister was a fool and Lelianna was naive, but when she and the Warden paired with them, they were unstoppable. The Warden would travel with few else, save those two and her. He trusted them with his life, and he trusted her to the end. Why else would he agree to kill Flemeth and sire this child?

She remembered him with great fondness. Those moments of passion, like when he was running, running up towards a madwoman's ashes through dragons and fools, only to stop before the end to kiss her fondly, leaving her star struck as he charged onwards. Moments of meaning, as he taught her that though survival is important, humanity was made to LIVE. That beauty was not to be overlooked, and while one could merely survive alone, one could not live if not helped by others. He did help her, and she was happy to be at his side, happy to save his life. And the nights of heated passion weren't that bad either. Fantastic even, for one of his age.

...And yet, he acted so much older than he looked.

Her attention was caught away by a shadow coming over the hill. She stood, her staff at her side. She wouldn't change shape, not with the baby inside, but she knew more than enough to defend herself. It was only a matter of choosing. The shadows of the forest concealed his form. Yet she notice something: a presence, something that she had thought she had forgotten about, something that she didn't mean to forget. And as the intruder stood before her, she could see the details now: Scale armour, his swords at his back, reddish-brown hair, pointed nose, light beard, tall, handsome...

"I knew you'd be somewhere around here." The man's voice was soft, suave, yet experienced.

The witch's staff fell from her hand. She rushed to embrace this man, the man who meant the world to her, the man that saved her life many times over.

"...Travadox..."

Suppose one of your stories was successful enough that people starting doing fan art. I'd like to know people's opinions of this. Do you think it's cool that someone would want to draw something based on your story? What about perversion of your characters (don't say it wont happen)? What about fan fiction? Would you be able to allow someone to re-work your stories?

Now, i wouldn't mind the art or fiction, however i know that there are certain characters in my stories that pre-pubescent boys may fawn over. I haven't made up my mind whether i would care or not. There are in total 3 pieces of fan art done out of my stories, and they've all met up to my expectations.

At 6/16/10 01:27 PM, RNNR wrote: So, anyone following/followed this year's E3? Kinect seems to have huge potential for interactive narrative.
I'm imagining games like Facade where gamers have actual conversations with in-game characters to advance the game, instead of today's most widely used solution: the dialogue tree.

I'm playing Dragon Age right now, and although Bioware does a not-so-bad dialogue tree that has somewhat what i want (or my character wants) to say. I'd be much more interesting seeing what it does.

Dragon Age has put me in an interesting position. Obviously, the character depicted is one from my books, My favourite character Travadox. Those who read my poetry battle submission, All you would know is that Travadox was a great hero who wound up defeating the Centu. In fact, he becomes King of the land of Dianorieum. He's a calm soul, but questions have arisen when i roleplay as the character as to what he would say in a given situation like this. It's almost put me in a really good position to get to know my Character better.

The biggest obstacle was finding his sense of Humour. Does he banter? Is he sarcastic? is he inappropriate? Does he even have a sense of? I came to a conclusion, thank god. Travadox is relaxed, and does enjoy a good banter. He has a very...soft humour that's very subtle and not snide. Of course, i'd have to go deeper than that, but it's certainly a good start.

At 6/14/10 08:48 AM, Deathcon7 wrote:

There ain't any other, bud. And if there were, I'd probably have to kill them. I'm not surprised to find you here, hehehe.

Well, you never know. Could be a convention of people with a death fetish.

Yeah, i had to know you were coming around eventually.

Deathcon?

Like the Deathcon i know from far back?

At 6/13/10 07:09 AM, RNNR wrote:
If I continue to look at it and edit something every five seconds I'm going to go insane.
I'd like a fresh pair of eyes to smack me in the face for stuff I completely overlook, so anyone want to proofread and throw in some feedback before I post it here?

I'll do a trade. I'll read over this Sci-Fi story of yours, if you agree to read over Sunless for me.

At 6/12/10 07:44 PM, TrevorW wrote: At Wolf-Raven

I feel that a specific setting, time, and character descriptions are limiting. I prefer to land in the realm of thought and cause/affect ;)

As do i. Tis one of the reasons why random humour for me isn't random. If you actually look at it, there's the faintest of trains of thought and life's random anyway. Unless there's an entirely non-sequetor statement, then it's not even good random humour.

At 6/12/10 03:56 PM, RNNR wrote:
I have a whiteboard on which I work out anything, from game designs to character relation web thingamaboobies. Best thing in my room that's hanging on a wall.
Yes, even better than that Mass Effect poster. Oh, don't feel sad Mass Effect poster.

And i thought my CCCP and 10,000 day posters were badass...

I've been out of the lop since the poetry thing, and it's cool to see this thread hopping again.

To what RNNR said, I fall into that too-much-on-the-go trap constantly. Last time I counted, I had 13 projects on the go. It's lesser now most likely now that I've leaned to combine and take projects with stride, but too much of a good thing can still turn out bad.

As for pretentious assholes. You're looking at a big one right here. Philosophy totally goes to your head.

I don't really think your major indicates if you can write or not. Maybe it plays a small role mentally in pushing it from a simple hobby to a passion, but I doubt it. Besides, Sociology seems like a great way to study character development.

An update on me, for those who care, I've caught the flash bug for the first time in a year so I'm now writing screenplays. It borders on the fucked up, but I'm liking that. I'm trying to motivate myself to take a year's worth of scrap writing segments and put them in chronological order plot-wise. Also, I don't know how many of you make maps for your stories, but I just put one of mine on my Apartment wall right next to my desk so I can add on whenever I choose. It's bitch'n, to say the least.

At 6/4/10 01:09 PM, megakill wrote: Well, the victory this time goes to Wolf-raven!

Very well done to him. I have to say he really did present a truly epic and progressive piece of work.

It was unfortunate that TrevorW had to pull out, but thats just the way it goes from time to time. I'm sure we'll be seeing him battling again soon!

Thanks everyone.

Although, if i could cast a vote, it would be in Megakill's favour. whereas i just told a story and made it rhyme, he did something i couldn't, and that was make poetry.

Hello Punk and Passion! Glad to see you all posting, and just remember: Just because the huat-culture people don't like your writing doesn't mean the mindless, teenage fad-zombies won't

=D

The Kentu, in their greed
Had forgotten man's great cunning
And the justice of the Kathmen
Had sent them all a running
The Men settled the East and West
The Kathman settled the middle
The scrailings bid their time and stayed
The Marin, their presence a riddle.
And so for many years a war ensued
Against the Kentu clans
That encompassed many people
In this new found land.
They were at last defeated
By Travadox and friends
At the great battle of Arno
But it's not where the story ends.

In all their hate and glory
The spirits ascended from high
And looked upon the Kentu
Who by decree must die.
But Kazgat had a more horrible plan
For the race who caused much strife
Who burnt land, who raped villages
Who deprived many of life
Upon that day, Kazgat said
"Your gifts were given by we
And we will gladly take away
All that has been given unto thee"
And thus were stripped of knowledge
To wander the lands in stupor
Thus were stripped of laughter
Grim and lifeless in demeanor
The honor of war was lost to them
And they would be doomed to loose
And nature turned against them
The vengeance of whom abused
Only Glompet stayed with the Kentu
And only did so in hate
For these Kentu were abominations
Of all horror distaste
"I will stay with you," Glompet said
"But only my darker side.
The bravery that I give is gone
You are only doomed to hide"
And with the final blow
Kazgat cast them down
That justice would see not this race
And only injustice sees it crown.

The races now live in peace
In the land they call home
Free of Kentu treachery
Beneath the spirit's dome
The scier were brought to the world
As proud as they had been
The Marin tend the libraries
The grandest to be seen
The Kathmen guard day and night
Though over the year they've come
To earn their place as the masters
Of the gold that shines like the sun
The scrailings stick to the forests
Which the other races respect
Though they will fight for the honor
Of any racial sect
Amongst them all, the humans sit
Their prosperity much assured
And such prosperity is handed down
To others such deserved
Only the Kentu roam the wilds
Bitter and distraught
No salvation for the betrayers
Of the greatest lesson taught.

No race was to be the better
Though all may differ in skills
A Scier scholar I have known
And a Marin with many kills
Now run along, Four-Earthians
I direly need my rest
And keep in mind, above all else
That no race is the best.

[Right.

This is cutting close, but this is a creation theory. My creation theory. It comes from a book that i have spent many years writing, as it encompasses many worlds and people. That being said, this poem is LONG, and must be put into two posts. I'm not really interested in if I win the battle or not, because I just couldn't stop writing. It just flowed from me like a god damn torrent.

I hope, at least, it entertains.]

The Creation of Dianorieum

Gather ye round, Four-Earthian young
Your history is still a-brew'n
By elders past, come knowledge gold
So new minds can be hewn
For our tale today is one we say
Can give us greatest sight
Of why Dianorieum is how it is
And why it not suffers our plight

Now ye know of this great world
Where great heroes come en mass
Like Travadox the Just, Trinity the Bold
And Jon, the Angel of Glass
Throughout much of history
These men and women have wrought
A just and great union
To which they so hard fought
But every great hero has her start
There's no great doubt about it
So let us begin a tale of old
For come dawn, we must depart it!

In the beginning, the land was broken
Great swaths had drifted away
The earth moaned deep and the sun shone red
Much redder than it does today
How, good sir, could life come about?
If what I say is true
The spirits took mercy upon the earth
And harnessed all life through

There were four spirits in that time
That make the Dianorian line
Six would come from those very four
Yet these four are most divine
Kazgat, Spirit of Justice
Fox, the Spirit of War
Jessandra, Spirit of Knowledge
Glompet, named, Horror
From Kazgat and Jessandra
Another spirit was born
Her name was simply Gretchfal
With nature's power, adorned.
And from Jessandra and Glompet
Who banishes fear with tact
They made the spirit of Laughter
The short, the wise, Jasc.

The six spirits lived in unison
Not one dark or light
Justice may be unfeeling
Horror may fail to fright
Knowledge could be unfeeling
Liberating as it may be
And laughter could be ignorance
As much as it could be glee
Yet these six spirits knew the other
Friends and comrades alike
And Dianorieum was truly whole
In their ever guiding light
And so each set about creating
The world Dianorieum is today
But sit and stay a moment
Of how the creation plays

With knowledge and with justice
Gretchfal turned the soil green
The War of competition
Made the victor ever sheen
The dark was made by Horror
And with nature, there was seeding
And life was blessed by justice
To begin and end all being
And combined with knowledge all
From the darkest to the light
Came together in a grove
And thought of certain plight
"What good is it to be here?"
Jessandra asked with a frown
"If our gifts are not combined
Into achievement crowned?"

And so every spirit there within
Made a glorious pact
That they would embody their very selves
Onto the world, they act.
And so they made a pool
Each essence mixed within
And the first being to step from the pool
The male and female human.

They shone with justice, they shone with knowledge
They shone with fear and stature
They were the sons of laughter
They were the daughters of nature.
The crowning achievement had been made
That man had been made here
But what other creations of the spirits
Would to their call adhere?

The next would come the Kathmen
Stout warriors and stout minds
Most devoid of laughter
All nature left behind
The next came the Marin
Who loved and feared the light
The darkness what they craved
The goodness never in plight
The Scrailings were the next kin
To step from the basin
Quick and agile and green as trees
Perfect for good hell raise'n
The Scier were next, noble and strong
Yet always craving some battle
Much like man, yet in many ways
Quick to fall into prattle
The Kentu were the last
On four legs did they walk
Eager for knowledge, eager for power
Silver tongues in their talk.

The spirits looked upon their kin
The sole of their creation
And instructed each and every one
On what was their vocation
Kazgat was the first to stand
And first to say his piece
"All were equal who were made
Let this not disturb peace."
Gretchfal said to the scrailings
"You may never be very strong
But stick to the world of nature
And prosperity will be along"
And Jasc took the scrailings by the hand
And said "Love life as made
Do not seek out vengeance
Though never forget the blade"

Fox took the scier
And the Kathmen by the hands
And said unto their faces
"Live well in your command
Though you may be eager to battle
Live well the silent life
For only a war of glory
Is ever worth the strife"
"Seek what you can of Justice"
Kazgat said to them both
"Only fight the most just of wars
which promise of peace they quoth"

Jessandra drew the Marin aside
And wrapped in enlightened embrace
"Take vocation as the smartest
Become the scholarly race."
"Choose to cling to the darkness"
Glompet said unto them
"In shadows you will find safety
from those who would abhor them"

And then upon the Humans
Kazgat solely decreed
"You be blessed with all our gifts
And cherish those you may see
But should you destroy the pact
With the other races around
Know that land and air and sea
Come horrors that will abound
Unity be your only goal
To safeguard this land
Stray from this, and you will feel
The coldness of Glompet's hand!"

The warning had been given
And all races listened the day
Except for the Kentu
Who were vastly lead astray
When the spirits were good and gone
They vowed to rule this land
And bring it under dominance
And stay this "Glompet's Hand".

At this point the human
Bent over to the ground
And picked a stick from the grass
And showed it to all around
"A staff to walk." Said the scier
The Scrailings "A pole to jump"
"Pulp to make paper" the Marin said
The Kathmen "Water pump!"
The Kentu took the stick
From the very human's hand
And said unto the people
"We do as our gods command."
"I agree" the human cried
"Let us join the gifts of the master
Let us build a world far and wide
And do it all the faster!"

Upon that pool they build a shrine
To each spirit that created
And each man and woman of every race
To each their skills related
They built and studied and created
Faster than any could see
In two years, anything made
Was as advanced as it was to be
They sky was filled with flying cars
The ground with pave'n stone
The stars were closer than they were
The light from flat screens shone
We only know if that today
What these things are named
For other lands have made them
And gave them better fame

This was not to last, however
For the Kentu had not sworn oath
And still the vengeance on their lips
They still doth quoth
And in the night, they crept within
The given leader's lair
A Marin maid of great intellect
And murdered her in cold air
The Kentu called out into night
Their confidence now much higher
And they called out to the other peoples
"MURDERS!" they cried "SCIER!"

The races convened that very night
And swore a solemn truth
That technology had very stolen
The innocence of their youth
"It should be a simpler way"
The human said with woe
"For if we do not repair our very selves
Then this gift shall be our foe"
And so locked away beneath a vault
Deep in stone it was wrapped
And the Humans and the Kathmen
Fled to the isle Shrap
The Marin moved deep underground
Like Glompet had instructed
And were never heard from for many year
Their paradise deconstructed

Upon the Dianorian lands
A great war had just began
For the scier had been tempted
Into all the follies of man
They warred amongst another
Millions cast into the fray
And their blood stained the soil dead
And the world became decay
And so when the world had lost its charm
The scier fled beneath
To live with their Marin comrades
To their sons, their sins, bequeath.
And the earth heaved and hawed
And remade itself with time
Until it became the very land
In heroes old we find.

Bitch'n. I look forward to it.

so, say...was i chosen to battle? Cool.

At 5/30/10 01:24 PM, gumOnShoe wrote:

5) I have about six stories to read through right now, but I'm on vacation and out of town. So, if you sent me something via wave, I have received it, I just haven't had time to read yet. I WILL read and give comments as soon as I can. I just ask that everyone be patient.

All right. I'll send my story to keeping that you're on Vacation in mind. I just wasn't sure.

Thanks.

A minor revalation:

You may try.

You may try as hard as you can.

And hell, you might even succeed

But when inventing sports for your book, it will not be as awesome as quiditch or calvinball.

Just say'n.

At 5/28/10 01:34 PM, scottmale24 wrote:

At 5/28/10 12:35 PM, gumOnShoe wrote: Boy I'm glad I'm a big enough of an asshole to do it!

Me too!

Dear God Scottmale, and here i thought you were dead.

At 5/27/10 11:19 PM, sinfulwolf wrote:
Fairly realistic, especially considering that kevlar vests don't do much against bullets, and the plates I wore didn't do much for the abdomen. She'd also have some shrapnel wounds from the grenade, so occasionally in the story (depending how long after the incident your story occurs) you can have her picking out bits of shrapnel from her skin. Mostly shoulders, back of the neck. All very small pieces that wouldn't have killed her and the doctors felt it would be more damaging to take out than to leave in (the body does slowly work shrapnel out of the body. I knew someone who was pulling little black slivers from his scalp like a year later).
Also, it might be interesting to still have her have some of those psychological issues. Sure not as bad as when she got out, but flashbacks and nightmares will still occur.

Really? Kevlar doesn't do anything against bullets? You'd think otherwise, but i guess they're better against low calibre bullets.

I can totally work Shrapnel into it. And the nightmares...well...Wolfgang will definitely have them, so she may too.

Then again, Wolfgang has had more scarring things done to him.

At 5/27/10 09:08 PM, sinfulwolf wrote: Well, it could be a) mental problems. or b) physical problems. It's got to a bit more than a gash and considering that to have it qualify for a discharge she probably wouldn't be able to be part of a group called the Vigilantes. From my knowledge, I could be wrong... seeing as I know someone who had their legs blown off in Afghanistan and they got prosthetic and are going back overseas as a helicopter gunner.

Hrm...i think i might have something...for the purposes of the story, she can't be disabled, as she's still more or less in fighting form.

During a firefight in Chihuahua, My character (Who's name is Elise), while defusing a bomb, found a friend of hers in trouble. He was wounded in the leg in one of the main arteries and was bleeding to death. Elise, who was training to be a medic at the time, hurried over to her friend to try and stop the bleeding. During this, a grenade went off from behind her. As she turned to look at it, a cartel member opened fire and she was shot from behind. Though she was lifted to safety by another comrade, her friend ended up dying in the street. The shot had damaged her kidney so bad that she had to have it removed. That, coupled with the psychological trauma of the death of her friend, allowed her to apply for honourable discharge, as she had made a few friends in the higher levels of command. She would later recover from both the psychological impact and the wounds, though she has no left kidney, and she also has a nasty battle scar.

Realistic? No?

And by Gas, i mean Gash.

At 5/27/10 07:09 PM, sinfulwolf wrote:
Wolf-Raven: Looking for an idea for her to get out of the army? How about a medical discharge? Bomb went off by her and messed her up a little bit. If you don't want to do that, she could have simply served her contract and she's getting out and wanting to move on. Or she's seen so much shit she just wants to live a normal life again. Or, she got a job that offers good pay, benefits... and little danger.

Aye. She eventually winds up becoming a Vigilante in Settler's City (Capital V is intended; it's the name of the group). But a Medical discharge doesn't sound half bad...But what would that entail? a really big gas or a full out decapitation?

My room has way too distractions. And i'm sure all you guys do as well.

So i have an idea. One day, of you want to get writing done, take a USB port, a public computer (preferably one that has student blocks) or a personal computer with not much on it, and just write. Have some books for reference, maybe take a wikipedia break every so often.

It's one of my biggest problems, to the point where i only write a few lines at a time, and if i just do this Monastery Mode, i think it might be beneficial.

Good Idea? Bad Idea?

At 5/27/10 05:53 PM, Fro wrote:

Anyway, I need a motive or reason why the guys family was targeted in the first place and I don't want it to be an exact copy of The Punisher, so can anyone come up with a few ideas for a motive?

Mexican Drug Lords. They want everything.

I find the whole Mexican drug war compelling. It has a lesser impact on me than the whole affair in Somalia, but it still carries weight. I have a character who served with the Mexican Army to fight the war. She's American born, but she was sent over as a bomb expert as part of a show of support for the Mexican government. She was honourably discharged, but i haven't been able to think of a good reason... (hint hint, I'd like a little brain storming help please).

I also came across something interesting. We all know about the battle of Thermopylae, but there was another one in 1941 where the Australians had to hold the line against the Nazis so that the British could retreat, and they did it with a nice amount of Badassery. And that's when i thought "Thank god i have an Australian Character who wants to live up to the heroics of his grandfather and the financial success of his father" (he's the son of a CEO of an Australian corporation who goes to the City this story takes place to expand. Hilarity ensues).

Thank you everyone so far for the insight. Especially Koji. I think i'm going to use all your suggestions. I do agree on the capitalization of places like planets. As for the loophole that you pointed out with the time frame of setting up the shelter, i didn't really think much of it, and just assumed the reader would think that they just rushed the job.

At 5/27/10 03:35 AM, Sawdust wrote: No offense, but that was mediocre.

There are far too many flaws in the story to mention, but I'll name a few such as characterization, the overall style of writing, the premise, etc. This story could've been far better if for example you did more in the way of characterization. If you were more specific, if there were more metaphors and such etc.

Sorry, brah.

No problem. If i didn't want to the story to be criticized, i wouldn't have asked. Thank you for the comment, but it would be helpful if you did go into detail.

On a metaphorical level, i don't go out of my way to use them or to make the story into a metaphor itself. As much as i have written allegorical works, what i wish to do, first and foremost, is to simply tell a story. And while writing style, characterization etc. is important, the telling of the story is more important to me.

All right Gum, i have gotten Google wave. I'll send a message when you next have the chance.

At 5/20/10 07:40 PM, gumOnShoe wrote:

Anyway, Wolf-Raven, you need to do some heavy revisions and some editing. I found an error in your first paragraph where you should have said "but it did" instead of "but it didn't." I can keep reading it and return edits, but you'll need to sign up for google wave so that I can mark it. Google wave is free to the public now, so anyone can sign up without an invitation.

Alright, i shall do that. Thanks for you input. It helps to know that there's at least a consideration.

At 5/22/10 05:58 PM, ArmouredGRIFFON wrote:
Yeah I was thinking about branching out of JS. Mill. On Liberty.

Mills ain't bad, and Utilitarianism is pretty jive. Just say'n.

At 5/22/10 02:46 AM, Ravariel wrote: I think I can safely say that no, noone has ever tried to write down in a single piece every bit of information and opinion that they know/have. For the sole reason of it being likely impossible. That is a LOT of information even for the most airheaded of people, and structure and flow will be a major hurdle.

Well, i wouldn't say people haven't tried it. Descartes did it, but he comes to few conclusions anyway.

At any rate, being a Philosophy major, promise me one thing: Try to AT LEAST make it READABLE. Despite my love for the subject, it can be very dry.

I would suggest reading other philosophers, but only after you get your intial ideas down. Once you know what they are in the pure form of your original idea, then go searching to see if it's been done. And remember; just because it has been done doesn't mean you shouldn't look at it from another angle.

I wish you luck. If anything, it'll cause some debate.

The one thing i am sure of if i go to Hell, if it exists aside, is that i am willing to go deeper down to visit friends and colleagues. I know for a fact I'll be here for a long time, so why not take a vacation? All you have to do is will yourself, i think to myself, and anything is possible.

The same rules apply to Limbo in real life.

I search for my keys, half wanting to find them, half hoping they're lost and i don't have to leave the house ever again. Instead of the hangover, I awoke to a throbbing throat and cough hungry lungs. Usually i float and fade to the computer, but for some reason, i lie in bed, and think. It's early; much too early for a student of my age to be waking up at. Inconsistent sleep must be part of hell (or no sleep at all, the lower you go). So after five hours of sleep, i awake, and decide to do something about my Limbo.

The legend of the nine circles states that two of the greatest philosophers of our time, Plato and Aristotle, were the most righteous of the pagans. Instead of actually being in Limbo, they stand at the shore watching the blinding light of purgatory, contemplating and feeling remorse about their distance from God, like all of us banished to the First. Is it just enough that all i had to do was give up something to cross the ocean to the great mountain of Purgatory and the Great Heaven above? Sacrifice is the most noble of all deeds, for we are creatures of self preservation. Hence, the question comes to whether or not i should sacrifice to become who i wish to become.

As i leave my bed, and crutch my way over to the coffee maker to receive much needed energy, I realize a source of my problems. The virtual world of swords, guns and magic has been with me since i learned how to type and click the mouse. It is a part of me; it is a hobby. But at times, and certainly at times of Limbo, i cling to them and do nothing else. The river of creativity that usually flows from me is damned, and i loose all track of space or time. The only times i really wish to adhere to anything other than the faint glow of the screen are if i wish to feed, or wish to sleep.

To slay the beast entirely would not end well for me, and i would readily go back if i were to withdrawal all at once. There was a time i felt i should abandon it all and lead a life of full scholarly vocation, but it was not my calling. I love to play as much as i love to learn or create, and sometimes the three intertwine with one another, one dependant on the other to be whole. You cannot abandon that. But what you can abandon are the things that bring you down and cannot save. To abandon everything that causes displeasure will make your body weak, your mind slow: what is life if not struggle? Only if the ship is under the water is it actually sunk, but between iceberg and the last of the stern, you still have cards to play with, no matter what people tell you.

My keys were under piles of paper. A cluttered desk means a cluttered mind, but if it's organized nonetheless, who is to tell you it is cluttered? My throat may be sore, and my mouth dry with dehydration, but the day is bright and sunny, and there is a life ahead of me. To return to the ship, it has yet to set sail fully. Today I get checks for employment, minutes for calling, and technology to help me along the way. All it took from me was a little effort, and an effort, once the swing is in motion, is always an easy thing to have.

When i go to Limbo, i hope to find my two fellow philosophers. Did they know they had will? Free or not, they still have it to some degree. Perhaps trees grow in Limbo to make a hull. Perhaps the wandering shades will bind together to make sails. Maybe Charon will take pity on us, and help us across the divide himself. No matter how we do it, we would will our selves into purgatory as we willed ourselves into life, into history. To stay static would be to die, and considering we already would have done that, all that would be left is Limbo.

And so, twirling my keys on my finger, i step outside, lock the door, grab my bike, and carry it down the stairs onto the street, an effort in life and a spring in my step.