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Words In This Update - 2124
Total Words So Far - 23250
You know how sometimes you have those days where you think it can't possibly get any worse, and you say it out loud, and it seems so absurd you and your friend just sit and laugh because you don't know what the fuck else you can say, but you don't want to be awkward and quiet? Then while you're laughing, the worst does happen, and a harpy swoops in out of nowhere, picks you up with her talons by your shoulders, and dumps you in her nest to feed you her bug vomit alongside her babies and then they all sing and then fuck my ears because they're singing and I know this is how I'll die? This actually happened to me when I was still being taught the usage of wild plants by Kattu's mother, the great Mai-Mai. What a woman, a shame Kattu doesn't take after her. A real teacher for the ages and what got me interested in how things function, even if it was just plants at the time. She had me go out and forage as a wee lass and while I was out, I found a harpy egg and was going to feast when I got lifted off and sung the worst song ever. It's even worse than the bards' music because at least they don't end in puke on your face and down your throat. Worst dinner ever.
Anyways, that happened. Not the harpy or the vomit, but the getting worse part. Let me tell you about my entirely all too exciting day, diary, so that future generations can appreciate my sacrifices even better. I had gone outside and cocked The Marshal up, which sounds pretty naughty but I assure you it isn't, and peered around. Thumps. Scratches. Screeching like a lamia in heat. Could only be one thing. Well, besides lamias fucking outside a mineshaft, which is probably not romantic at all. No, it could only be those three nasty dragonkin back on the prowl. Still clad in Lock's upchuck, and reeking worse than usual, they locked their eyes with me, not unlike how Lock locks hers, locked in this Stormlock elf's eyes, and cackling like the hornheads they are. What cocks. Lock cocks. And since Lock was the biggest cock of them all, it made sense. Stormlocks rock, Lock just cocks.
Two of them outmatched the third in size, sending her away to go up the basin and “join in the other ranks.” The only thing rank about them was their smell. Or so I thought. I felt my ears flick up hard, a chill go up my spine, prompting me to peek up and see where they were pointing towards. The wagons. Shit. I heard more unnerving sounds coming form that direction, followed by a few familiar screeches. I think even a war cry or two was thrown in. One shot of a bullet later, and I knew for sure what was going on. An ambush. These three were part of a detachment from a raid group, meant to hunt us down and take back what we took form them. What we took being Lock and “the secrets buried deep within her mind.” Oh come on, she's so dense, we're lucky she doesn't turn into a black hole and eat up the whole Razan desert with her stupidity right here.
I had to go. They were going to take my scrap, wreck my progress, try to steal my share of what was in the mine which is all of it, and then probably drink all my juice as well. Oh, and I guess devour all my fellows tribesmen but they're not building a plane, they're not as crucial to my story, now are they?
It's like I can feel your eyes judging me all the way in the past here. Even I'm not that heartless. That's something Lock may do, but I know I couldn't. Yeah, it's a lot of trouble, and they won't even thank me properly, but without them, I fucked in all the not fun ways you can imagine. I may be a genius, but I'm no dwarf haggler or anything. If it were left up to me, I'd just build a tank sturdy enough to hold up a gun bigger than my ego and plow everything down. Make me their queen. Those who disagree can just suck my barrel. I'm sure The Marshal would appreciate it. I'm hoping that by the time that this is over, that all of the world belongs to me and was taken in a storm of Emberblaze and bloodshed and that you are all my descendants, and you're all stuck repopulating yourselves in some kind of incestual orgy, where nobody is looked down for cousin marrying again. Unless you're royalty. They're good at that family fucking thing.
In order to rescue anyone or anything though, the brave huntress Basira would have to beat down the two fools before her now, hopefully before Lock woke up, so she could hide the bodies and not get yelled at for it. I got The Marshal into firing mode and looked the taller of the two remaining dragons in the eye. It's scale season, and I don't need a license to kill. I am my own license! Except for the part where she just shoves her palm against the muzzle and begins to push back on it, snorting flames towards my eyebrows.
“Yukina is amused by your bravado, tiny elf! Tell Yukina, have you been having fun with our sister, Lock? Yukina hadn't ever pegged an elf to be the type to---” Okay. Stop the plot. Stop the ride. I want to get off. If I hear this maddening, unfunny phrase one more time in my life, I swear to Laeshann, and even to Soul Harvester Hoethmarr down below that I will strike the words 'peg' and 'pegged' from every dictionary ever and that if you are caught using it in any context, the punishment will be a pegging from me. Except now the act will be called a Basira Ass-Searing. That will be twenty ducats, please. Cash only, don't expect me to honor any of these payment later bullshit schemes, I'm on to you all. Don't beg like a starving bard, no matter how much the bard deserves to be starved.
My eyebrows had been singed before countless times in my quests to make an efficient fuel. It's to the point I'm sure the original gold hue of them will never come back, as it won't for most of the hair on my head. The middle of my head hair was streaked just as dark from burning incidents, and while I think it makes me look good, there are times I miss having gold locks for everyone to be jealous of besides the small rings of it around my ears and sideburns now. So no, the idea of it all becoming filthier is decidedly unappealing to me. Gold goes better with my naturally tanned skin than charcoal does. I think that look only really works if you're one of those young brats into the dark arts in what you think is an ironic fashion. Helps me avoid you easier so I don't have to suffer speaking to you if I can just see your stupid hair and walk off. I hope nobody's mistaken me for one yet.
The one calling herself Yukina beckoned her comrade closer, revealing a drake that was far too frail for his size with black hair and far too many bits of metal pierced throughout his scales. I do believe he had on a pair of glasses too, pushed up against his nose, fogging up form the flames he snorted out. That's why I just went on that rant, I had to deal with one of those ironic fuckers. I just raised an eyebrow, completely forgetting about Yukina pushing up against me, trying not to burst out laughing as he sighed and flipped us all off. No attempts to attack or anything. Just arms crossed under his frail little chest and a pout after.
“I was raiding the Stormlock tribe before it was cool, you know? You're just doing it because Lock did, you know.” he scoffs at his sister.
“Oh, will you shut up with the ironic is the new black phase of yours, you sorry sack of cloaca cleanser? Help me out here before you embarrass us all with your entire existence even further! Do you want to be a man or what?” Yukina places her other scaly claw on my face, covering my right eye and mouth somewhat, head turned to watch her brother as she clamps down on The Marshal's muzzle with all her might. Both of us are half distracted by her pathetic excuse for a sibling that our fighting and wrestling with each other is pretty sloppy.
“No, you won't call me by my new name now. My cooler, better name! So why should I give a fuck and help you out? I'm just here to get some gallstones to make more piercings with and get the fuck out. Maybe I'll steal that elf's cape to make a scarf with when you're done. You know, to wear the cloth of our enemies ironically. So piss off, sister.” the boy argues back. Weakly, I might add. I kind of find myself in agreement with Yukina, a first in my life agreeing with a scaleback, and outright say to his face that yeah, he is useless. He probably only came by because his mother told him to or some shit.
“Oh, you mean Coalguy? Worst joke I ever heard. Why can't you be proud of your clan name, Kaldera? It was chosen for a reason!” Yukina snorts, jerking her head back to face me. “Besides, what good will the cape of hers do once I do this to it?”
I can barely see her tail coming out of the one eye I have uncovered, taking a bit of a corner of it off and flinging the scrap into the wind. Shit. Cornered. And my favorite cape was going to need mending once we returned. Not to mention her claws began to grip harder and sharper around my eye. I'm stuck in place; if I move in any direction those will dig right into my skin. I just hear the anorexic pincushion boy gasp, as if it was his balls that just got stomped no and not my cape.
“Oh, that got a nice reaction. Fine, want to see an even better one? Well, seeing is something she's going to have trouble with, Kaldera, so you may want to keep your eyes on me extra so you don't miss one bloody detail to report back to her!” Yukina's voice sings, making my ears tense up.
The next thing I remember is strong, tearing, burning pain and my body firing The Marshal by reflex, blowing through her hand, collapsing to the ground and feeling a warm, thick stickyness drip down my front and soaking into my cape. I hear the faint sound of the two siblings fighting in the distance. Their words are clear; he's mad she ruined the cape I had on, making him no longer want it, but my brain can't process the words.
My eye. My right eye. Gone. Torn out and plucked like a petal from a rose. Let to squish and drip between her claws, spitting on me as I curl up and cannot even bring myself to scream save for once, my throat as raw as my eye socket after. It hurts. I'm going to black out, I figure, possibly die of blood loss. I don't know if I can lose that much blood just form that, but I'm fading, fast. I failed. Sorry, sky. You're the last thing my left eye sees before it all goes to a blur.
The last thing that happens before I pass out that I can remember clearly is my ears picking up a voice. A familiar one. It's Lock. It's got to be. Only other person around that could have heard that and reacted to it, knowing what it meant.
“Guess it's time for Lock to stop faking her high. Sister, you dumb whore, how dare you wreck Lock's own prey? I'll make you pay for what you did to her! Nobody gets to humiliate or scar the boss elf but Lock herself!”
Shit.
I'm going to be saved by a dragon bitch.
I don't know what hurts worse at this moment; my pride or my face. I just know that this one is going to take a long time to recover from. Just fucking kill me now.
Total Words So Far - 23250
You know how sometimes you have those days where you think it can't possibly get any worse, and you say it out loud, and it seems so absurd you and your friend just sit and laugh because you don't know what the fuck else you can say, but you don't want to be awkward and quiet? Then while you're laughing, the worst does happen, and a harpy swoops in out of nowhere, picks you up with her talons by your shoulders, and dumps you in her nest to feed you her bug vomit alongside her babies and then they all sing and then fuck my ears because they're singing and I know this is how I'll die? This actually happened to me when I was still being taught the usage of wild plants by Kattu's mother, the great Mai-Mai. What a woman, a shame Kattu doesn't take after her. A real teacher for the ages and what got me interested in how things function, even if it was just plants at the time. She had me go out and forage as a wee lass and while I was out, I found a harpy egg and was going to feast when I got lifted off and sung the worst song ever. It's even worse than the bards' music because at least they don't end in puke on your face and down your throat. Worst dinner ever.
Anyways, that happened. Not the harpy or the vomit, but the getting worse part. Let me tell you about my entirely all too exciting day, diary, so that future generations can appreciate my sacrifices even better. I had gone outside and cocked The Marshal up, which sounds pretty naughty but I assure you it isn't, and peered around. Thumps. Scratches. Screeching like a lamia in heat. Could only be one thing. Well, besides lamias fucking outside a mineshaft, which is probably not romantic at all. No, it could only be those three nasty dragonkin back on the prowl. Still clad in Lock's upchuck, and reeking worse than usual, they locked their eyes with me, not unlike how Lock locks hers, locked in this Stormlock elf's eyes, and cackling like the hornheads they are. What cocks. Lock cocks. And since Lock was the biggest cock of them all, it made sense. Stormlocks rock, Lock just cocks.
Two of them outmatched the third in size, sending her away to go up the basin and “join in the other ranks.” The only thing rank about them was their smell. Or so I thought. I felt my ears flick up hard, a chill go up my spine, prompting me to peek up and see where they were pointing towards. The wagons. Shit. I heard more unnerving sounds coming form that direction, followed by a few familiar screeches. I think even a war cry or two was thrown in. One shot of a bullet later, and I knew for sure what was going on. An ambush. These three were part of a detachment from a raid group, meant to hunt us down and take back what we took form them. What we took being Lock and “the secrets buried deep within her mind.” Oh come on, she's so dense, we're lucky she doesn't turn into a black hole and eat up the whole Razan desert with her stupidity right here.
I had to go. They were going to take my scrap, wreck my progress, try to steal my share of what was in the mine which is all of it, and then probably drink all my juice as well. Oh, and I guess devour all my fellows tribesmen but they're not building a plane, they're not as crucial to my story, now are they?
It's like I can feel your eyes judging me all the way in the past here. Even I'm not that heartless. That's something Lock may do, but I know I couldn't. Yeah, it's a lot of trouble, and they won't even thank me properly, but without them, I fucked in all the not fun ways you can imagine. I may be a genius, but I'm no dwarf haggler or anything. If it were left up to me, I'd just build a tank sturdy enough to hold up a gun bigger than my ego and plow everything down. Make me their queen. Those who disagree can just suck my barrel. I'm sure The Marshal would appreciate it. I'm hoping that by the time that this is over, that all of the world belongs to me and was taken in a storm of Emberblaze and bloodshed and that you are all my descendants, and you're all stuck repopulating yourselves in some kind of incestual orgy, where nobody is looked down for cousin marrying again. Unless you're royalty. They're good at that family fucking thing.
In order to rescue anyone or anything though, the brave huntress Basira would have to beat down the two fools before her now, hopefully before Lock woke up, so she could hide the bodies and not get yelled at for it. I got The Marshal into firing mode and looked the taller of the two remaining dragons in the eye. It's scale season, and I don't need a license to kill. I am my own license! Except for the part where she just shoves her palm against the muzzle and begins to push back on it, snorting flames towards my eyebrows.
“Yukina is amused by your bravado, tiny elf! Tell Yukina, have you been having fun with our sister, Lock? Yukina hadn't ever pegged an elf to be the type to---” Okay. Stop the plot. Stop the ride. I want to get off. If I hear this maddening, unfunny phrase one more time in my life, I swear to Laeshann, and even to Soul Harvester Hoethmarr down below that I will strike the words 'peg' and 'pegged' from every dictionary ever and that if you are caught using it in any context, the punishment will be a pegging from me. Except now the act will be called a Basira Ass-Searing. That will be twenty ducats, please. Cash only, don't expect me to honor any of these payment later bullshit schemes, I'm on to you all. Don't beg like a starving bard, no matter how much the bard deserves to be starved.
My eyebrows had been singed before countless times in my quests to make an efficient fuel. It's to the point I'm sure the original gold hue of them will never come back, as it won't for most of the hair on my head. The middle of my head hair was streaked just as dark from burning incidents, and while I think it makes me look good, there are times I miss having gold locks for everyone to be jealous of besides the small rings of it around my ears and sideburns now. So no, the idea of it all becoming filthier is decidedly unappealing to me. Gold goes better with my naturally tanned skin than charcoal does. I think that look only really works if you're one of those young brats into the dark arts in what you think is an ironic fashion. Helps me avoid you easier so I don't have to suffer speaking to you if I can just see your stupid hair and walk off. I hope nobody's mistaken me for one yet.
The one calling herself Yukina beckoned her comrade closer, revealing a drake that was far too frail for his size with black hair and far too many bits of metal pierced throughout his scales. I do believe he had on a pair of glasses too, pushed up against his nose, fogging up form the flames he snorted out. That's why I just went on that rant, I had to deal with one of those ironic fuckers. I just raised an eyebrow, completely forgetting about Yukina pushing up against me, trying not to burst out laughing as he sighed and flipped us all off. No attempts to attack or anything. Just arms crossed under his frail little chest and a pout after.
“I was raiding the Stormlock tribe before it was cool, you know? You're just doing it because Lock did, you know.” he scoffs at his sister.
“Oh, will you shut up with the ironic is the new black phase of yours, you sorry sack of cloaca cleanser? Help me out here before you embarrass us all with your entire existence even further! Do you want to be a man or what?” Yukina places her other scaly claw on my face, covering my right eye and mouth somewhat, head turned to watch her brother as she clamps down on The Marshal's muzzle with all her might. Both of us are half distracted by her pathetic excuse for a sibling that our fighting and wrestling with each other is pretty sloppy.
“No, you won't call me by my new name now. My cooler, better name! So why should I give a fuck and help you out? I'm just here to get some gallstones to make more piercings with and get the fuck out. Maybe I'll steal that elf's cape to make a scarf with when you're done. You know, to wear the cloth of our enemies ironically. So piss off, sister.” the boy argues back. Weakly, I might add. I kind of find myself in agreement with Yukina, a first in my life agreeing with a scaleback, and outright say to his face that yeah, he is useless. He probably only came by because his mother told him to or some shit.
“Oh, you mean Coalguy? Worst joke I ever heard. Why can't you be proud of your clan name, Kaldera? It was chosen for a reason!” Yukina snorts, jerking her head back to face me. “Besides, what good will the cape of hers do once I do this to it?”
I can barely see her tail coming out of the one eye I have uncovered, taking a bit of a corner of it off and flinging the scrap into the wind. Shit. Cornered. And my favorite cape was going to need mending once we returned. Not to mention her claws began to grip harder and sharper around my eye. I'm stuck in place; if I move in any direction those will dig right into my skin. I just hear the anorexic pincushion boy gasp, as if it was his balls that just got stomped no and not my cape.
“Oh, that got a nice reaction. Fine, want to see an even better one? Well, seeing is something she's going to have trouble with, Kaldera, so you may want to keep your eyes on me extra so you don't miss one bloody detail to report back to her!” Yukina's voice sings, making my ears tense up.
The next thing I remember is strong, tearing, burning pain and my body firing The Marshal by reflex, blowing through her hand, collapsing to the ground and feeling a warm, thick stickyness drip down my front and soaking into my cape. I hear the faint sound of the two siblings fighting in the distance. Their words are clear; he's mad she ruined the cape I had on, making him no longer want it, but my brain can't process the words.
My eye. My right eye. Gone. Torn out and plucked like a petal from a rose. Let to squish and drip between her claws, spitting on me as I curl up and cannot even bring myself to scream save for once, my throat as raw as my eye socket after. It hurts. I'm going to black out, I figure, possibly die of blood loss. I don't know if I can lose that much blood just form that, but I'm fading, fast. I failed. Sorry, sky. You're the last thing my left eye sees before it all goes to a blur.
The last thing that happens before I pass out that I can remember clearly is my ears picking up a voice. A familiar one. It's Lock. It's got to be. Only other person around that could have heard that and reacted to it, knowing what it meant.
“Guess it's time for Lock to stop faking her high. Sister, you dumb whore, how dare you wreck Lock's own prey? I'll make you pay for what you did to her! Nobody gets to humiliate or scar the boss elf but Lock herself!”
Shit.
I'm going to be saved by a dragon bitch.
I don't know what hurts worse at this moment; my pride or my face. I just know that this one is going to take a long time to recover from. Just fucking kill me now.
