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Wednesday, February 20, 2013

If You're Reading This...

Know that it was written on my teacher's computer. Isn't that awesome? Hi to everyone in Newspaper.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

At School and Posting

Well, this is new. I'm posting from the confines of Hell- I mean, school. But hey! What's the difference? That's right, none. Good job, oh wily youngster.

So, last night at work (at Barnes & Noble, hi guys, I work there now), there was this couple.

They bought the audio CD version of Fifty Shades of Grey.
Now, buying the book is bad enough in itself. Erotic romance. Yuck.

But what are they doing if they're listening to it and not reading it? Acting out parts?

Oh God. What have I allowed?!

And then I sold them a membership! I did I did I did! First membership sold.

Achievement unlocked.

And then I told them to have a good night. I said "lovely evening," actually, so.... I'm not sure what that implied.


Anywho, guys, if you haven't heard of it already, you should definitely check out the cousin blog to this one, sanctustherpg.blogspot.com, because it's got some awesome lore up for the tabletop I'm trying to create. Good stuff, everybody.

GTCEA

Sunday, August 5, 2012

What's That? Cows Hate Gay People?

Well, no wonder Chik-fil-A is having such a hard time.

I'm sorry. The comment had to be made. And, honestly... Who cares?

Anywhore, I thought - today - I would take you chitlins on a journey into the world of my fanficiton. It's not much, and this post will probably be one of the longer ones, but honestly???

The only reason I'm doing this is because I really have nothing else to give you today. Nothing. So, laziness kicks in. Copy/ paste, and voila! I have an entire post just waiting to be updated into ze blog.

Now, without any further ado, here is the culmination of a sedentary lifestyle and an unhealthy obsession with a child's video game, coupled with late nights fueled by coffee and my particularly unremarkable writing style.



            Sabeleye poured from the cave and leaped and lunged over the ground, clawed hands carrying them at astonishing speeds toward Christopher.
            He vaulted from the place where he’d paused to chance a look back and cleared a fallen boulder, where he hit the ground running. His black military-style jacket fluttered around his swiftly fleeing frame. Tennis shoes on his feet slapped the rocks in a frantic staccato that matched the pounding of his heart.
            “Mithril!” he yelled, dislodging a Pokeball from his belt, where it split asunder and shot its contents at the ground in a violent fork of lightning. “Help me!”
            A titanic form solidified from the luminescent electricity; a massive saucer shaped body was attached to four legs that were more akin to pile drivers, each tipped with three dangerous looking claws. A metallic X crossed its front, and two emotionless crimson eyes peered out of its face from under the top two arms of the X. It was a vast beast, a supercomputer encased in an impenetrable adamantine sheath, and was one of the most rare creatures on the face of the planet.
            “Earthquake!” Christopher shouted, running up to stand on a rocky outcropping. To the casual observer, he would have seemed an idiot, choosing such a perch to evade the brunt of the earth-shattering move.
            The ground below him erupted and liquefied under his Metagross’s onslaught, roiling like a sea of earth and shrubs, dislodged by the tectonic murder.
            The Sabeleye, about eighty of them, all lost their footing. An invisible force seemed to hit them – the energy imbued in the move that allowed it to inflict damage on Pokemon especially. They collapsed or were thrown from their feet, their cries soiling the air.
            After a moment, the rumbling subsided and the cries of the Sabeleye became less voluminous and more pitiful. Mithril had knocked most, if not all, of them out, even though they were all fully grown, healthy specimens. Christopher’s Pokedex would have told him that they were in the level 70 range. Unfortunately for them, though, even though Mithril was a recently evolved Metagross, it was still more than a match for anything but a legendary.
            And even then, it was a coin toss.
            Christopher sighed and relaxed. The earth had shifted away from the small rocky outcropping he’d chosen to occupy, revealing it to be a spire of rock that got exponentially thicker and looked to be huge, continuing on into the ground. It was the sort of rock that may have looked like a pebble from the surface, but turned out to be a mountain buried under the dirt.
            “Thank God for that,” he murmured.
            A low, metallic throbbing alerted him that Metagross was now hovering protectively near his head.
            “You rock, Mithril…. Just gimme a second.”
            He lay there, listening to the cries of Pokemon in the distance, upset by the earth shifting.
            After a while, maybe half an hour, he got his breathing and heartbeat under control, and pulled himself to his feet. His Metagross had lowered itself onto the spire as well, and sat with its saucer-like body resting on the ground. Its eyes stared at Christopher in seeming indifference.
            But he knew differently. Mithril was loyal to the end, loving, and emotionally attached to all of Chris’s other Pokemon.
            “Alright, buddy,” he said at last, heaving himself to his feet in an obvious exertion. “Let’s get going. The nearest town is Alkaline, and it’s nearly another hour and a half walk.”
            Although, he thought, hand going to one of his other red and white capsules, placed in his belt, I could always have Thunderpaw carry me there…
            He shook his head. His Arcanine, Thunderpaw, was still in bad shape from the encounter with a wild Swampert and its young, and definitely in no state to ride. Normally he would have ridden it everywhere, preferring a sturdy, reliable mount to running or walking.
            Unfortunately, walking and running usually overruled riding, mainly because his Pokemon were constantly battle-weary.
            He treated them well, no man could deny that. However, since he only made town every two months or so, to stock up on supplies, they went for long periods of time without a Pokemon center stop. They were a sturdy bunch of Pokemon, raised over the period of eight years, but they still required a break once in a while.
            He jumped down from the spire and called his Metagross back to its Pokeball, which he clipped onto his belt next to the other five. He set off at a brisk walk, checking his surroundings. Nearly seven years wandering the wilderness of Hoenn had taught him that nature was never what it looked like. A seeming peaceful ravine, brook trickling through the center, could easily and quickly transform into a set of gaping jaws when a threatened Ursaring was introduced into the equation. The skies, usually majestic, were nothing to scoff at when filled with a flock of wheeling Pidgeot, talons sharp and beaks hooked.
            As he meandered, though, nothing more harassed him. The Sabeleye from before were just a sharp, vivid memory now. He’d not really meant to make a racket while walking through their nesting chambers, but he’d slipped and the slick floor of the cave where they dwelt had caused him to go tumbling head over heels. Little gemlike eyes had lit up and zeroed in on him. The Pokemon were territorial, especially in a mineral rich cave like the one he’d fallen into.
            He slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out a fist sized ruby.
            “It was worth it, though,” he muttered. A sunbeam, clear and rich in the late afternoon light of a Hoenn fall, snagged on a facet and the entire gem flashed like a strobe light.
            He’d collected four more rocks like it, huge gems taken from the hoard of an irate Gabite. They were weighting his pack, but he enjoyed the added mass of the precious things. They were his reminder of the trouble he went through to retrieve them, and of the reward that Steven Stone would pay him once he delivered them to him in Mossdeep.
            Steven Stone was a man of class and poise; the son of a rich billionaire CEO and investor, he’d spent the first half of his life being trained in the ways of a socialite. His manners were exquisite, his speech flawless and round, and his clothing was always top of the line stuff made by Sinnoh designers.
            This sharply contrasted his hobby of collecting strange, rare, and valuable gems and rocks from the remote corners of the world. On a regular occasion, Steven would have been the one getting the gems, but Chris had done this as a favor to the poor man.
            Steven’s father was dying.
            A bad bout with pancreatic cancer had left the older man frail and unfit to run the company, and so it had fallen into Steven’s reluctant but capable hands. All of Hoenn had watched in rapture as the Devon Tycoon spoke his last and retired to his hospital bed for the few remaining days of his life.
            Steven had been planning to take the journey to Alkaline City’s outskirts himself, but the matter of his father had arose, and Chris had offered his help.
            “I should have my payment secured after this… As soon as the funeral’s done,” he spoke to himself, passing under a canopy of deciduous trees that filtered the sunlight spectacularly, “I’ll buy my ticket to Faea. I’m sure Steven will understand, and this will be a nice parting gift.”
            He nudged a rock with his foot and it rolled away, legs spouting from it. An orange head popped out and an irritated Dwebble scurried away.
            Before long, the tall buildings of Alkaline City’s northern district came into view above the verdant treetops. A flock of Starly lazed overhead as he jogged into town. He met a two lane road and followed it in; passing a housing division that quickly transformed into the bustling commercial city that Alkaline was known for. Cars and bicycles drove past, and the sidewalks were filled with people. Christopher glanced at his watch and saw that it was a quarter past five – everyone was getting out of work.
            He stopped one man who looked like he wasn’t in any sort of dire hurry.
            “Pardon me, but I’m looking for the Pokemon center here in town.”
            The man smiled, a relieved smile – he might have been under the impression that he was about to me mugged, from Christopher’s rugged appearance.
             “Just go on down this street and take left at the intersection of Global St. and Persim. It’ll be on your left.”
            Chris thanked the man and continued on. He weaved between busy bodies, and once had to jump out of the way of a furiously peddling man on a bike in a tie and suit, both stained and ripped.
            Eventually, finally, the young adventurer found himself standing at the doorstep of the city’s Pokemon center, a large white building with a thatched red roof, the universal appearance of the buildings. Inside, people milled about slowly, not really in any hurry. This was a place of healing and relaxation, not of rocketing around and speeding through life.
            “Hello,” he said pleasantly to the Nurse standing behind the main desk. “I’d like a full recovery for my Pokemon.”
            The woman nodded.
            “We’ll have them sent through and have them back to you in about thirty or forty minutes.” She smiled and took them through a door behind the counter, back to the lab where the Pokemon center kept their recovery technology.
            Chris took a seat on a small sofa along the east wall and pulled a novel from his backpack. He’d probably read it about twelve times through already, but it was the kind of book he could always go back to.
            Thirty minutes later he was back outside, stocked with supplies from the market inside the Pokecenter, Pokeballs once more secured on his belt. He asked another passerby for directions to the bullet train, and they sent him to the eastern part of town. Once there, he boarded and set off towards Slateport, where the ferry was waiting to take him to Mossdeep.
            He spent the three days enjoying the hustle and bustle of the people around him. He would take the memories of the men, women and children with him into Faea, a dangerous and wild land where the Pokemon were stronger, the people just as deadly, and the prospects for Rangers good.



So there you go. The first chapter, bar the prologue, of a fanfiction I've - in a flash of genius and insight - named Two.

Remember, all you little horndogs - pants on. That means you, Mr. Rothfus.

GCEA

Friday, August 3, 2012

The Most IRONic Part of This Post is That Metagross is the Iron Leg Pokemon

Encounter Start: 12:54

Picture, if you will - my level 62 Thundurus vs. a wild, level 55 Metagross in the shake grass of Giant Chasm.

Needless to say, le me = ecstatic. I was in heaven, finding a Metagross in shake grass. I already had two, but a third never hurts.

After I hit it twice with Discharge and paralyzed it, it was down to a nub of health and used Hammer Arm twice, which lowered its own speed two stages and which I resisted.

I started throwing Ultra Balls, thinking I had it in the bag. It used Meteor Mash and boosted its attack, and suddenly I was feeling a little squirmy.

The next turn it used Iron Defense and shot its defense through the roof. I remember thinking, "For a Pokemon that can't have its stats altered by the opponent, it sure is going through stat changes like a pimp through bad hoes."

No sooner did I think that when - suddenly! - it used Agility and boosted its speed two stages.

Ah, Pokemon IRONy.

Encounter Finish 1:16

Total Time: 22 min
Ultra Balls thrown: 39

It took me two Ultra Balls to catch Kyurem, and I used paralysis on it, too.

I don't understand, O ye gods of Pokemon! Why such plagues upon my game???

Anywho, I thought I would comment on the thunderstorm we recently had, the first and probably last of the famous summer thunderstorms that are supposed to come with hot weather. I guess that's what I get for living in the Ozark foothills - no rain, no gain. My back yard used to be mowed weekly - yesterday, I mowed it for the first time in three weeks.

I feel bad for all of my Missouri friends. They get the minimal end of the Ozark buffer: in fact, the Ozark mountains are part of the geographical reason for the tornadic buildup in the area. They act like an airplane wing in the air. They shape the air, shift it, and cup it down and around, but they don't help much unless you're sitting on top of them.

Hayley, that lovely lady, lives in Bella Vista (Beautiful Sight en Italiano), which is molded right into the side of those damn mountains. She gets the rain and the thunder and a light show now and then, but high winds and tornadoes?

Nada.

I think everyone should have to spend at least one spring in the fourstate area, living out the fiercest weather in America - tornado season in Missouri.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Mother of Pearl

I have to write a short story, polish it, and have it ready for review by August 20th. I'm not sure that's entirely possible... But hopefully I can do it.

It's recently come to my attention that Reese has a car fetish. Talking about "lubing the drive shaft to reduce friction" and "putting it into drive..." He even talked about a car looking like the nude body of a woman on-screen at the movie theaters! Of course, that part's hearsay. I wasn't actually there...

And Alexis has now managed to caption my face into the raunchiest, dirtiest, most virulently gross memes I've ever done seen.

We found all this out at Reese's 18th birthday party, which was excellent. The cake was especially good...Dat marble.

The young man also introduced me to the best coffee place I've ever visited - better than Starbucks, even. The coffee is godly.

The service, however, is a little over the top. I'm one of the most oblivious guys in the world - no, sincerely - but even I knew the girls there were being a little too courteous. And Hayley was right there with me! I wanted to switch instantly to 'super-gay' mode and sit next to Reese, hold his hand, just to freak the shit out of them.

The nerve of some sluts.

Anywho. Rant is over. I think.

I could go on. But I won't. (C'mon, you can do this. Hold yourself together, man! ..........No. NO.)

Okay, maybe just a little more ranting. A little. Tiny bit.

STUPID HOES.

There! I feel stupendously better. Don't you?!?

I'm surely boring you all with this post... I have internet for only an hour a night, so I'll try to keep my schedule mobile around this. I'll try to keep writing.

"You blocked me on Facebook, and now you're going to die."