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Words In This Update - 2597
Total Words So Far - 43006
(Israa's note: It appears I've come almost to the end of this diary; only two main entries are left for me to copy. This entry is littered in what appears to be the faint remnants of dirt and bloodstains. Whatever am I about to transcribe is most likely violent. Or, chances are, knowing Basira? She cut herself and ran home before victory. Either way, she lived. Otherwise she wouldn't have wrote this, especially in her mostly past tense narrative style. Someone sure likes to hear themselves talk, if that weren't obvious already. Besides, her skull is too thick to kill by normal means. Unless they came up with some kind of super cannon in that one week preparing to attack, then chances are this woman could survive even Laeshann cooking her with some kind of holy sexy beam or whatever it is the gods use. I don't know, I've never spoken to them. The woman had the survival instinct of a pack of horny vermin looking to reproduce and fill our walls with their annoying, scummy brood.)
If you're reading this, then you ought to be congratulating me. It's been a long, long day, full of death, fire, betrayal, heartbreak, blood splatters, the roaring of engines, and most of all, my having claimed victory. I stand before you now a heroine of legend, or rather, I write as one. Historians of the future take note, because this is how you do it. Get your notebooks out and clean out your ears so burdened with wax and other filth, because Basira Nejem is in the house and she's about to school you all in how to deliver a package of pain bigger than my phantom prick.
It's best to start off from the beginning though, isn't it? You gotta build these things up slow. If you want to get as good as I was out there, you gotta study the whole thing, not just the end or the showy parts. After all, the little bits make the biggest bang!
Anyways. On with the show. I'm sure you're all dying to know by now how I pulled this one off, given how much I've hyped this and how much I came to love that plane that gave me the freedom I'd yearned for like a lover pining for their paramour, right? At least humor me enough and say you are. Act like it, future generations, because this one was dedicated to all of you.
Our grand tale begins just after I had pissed, gotten dressed, and chugged enough lemonade to drown the wolves that guarded our wagon. Except I don't think they'd appreciate having their coats ruined by such, but that's neither here nor there, now is it? My hand came to shield my eyes as it looked off in the distance, knowing that the night would be fully rid of its presence at any minute. Really, could you keep the suspense up any more? But enough teasing. I'll relent for now and tell you my heroic, bloody tale before you all manage to find a way to get into the past and kill me before I can save the day, just so you never have to hear about it. You pansies.
The sun rose over the dunes, glaring off into my eyes, sharp and early, bright as Laeshann's tits were white. Perhaps the sun itself is her ass, glowing and guiding us, or simply her slit hairs shining and reflecting down upon us as she grins. Either way, it was enough for me to take the goggles from the top of my head and pull them down over my eyes, looking determined, every single inch of nerves and muscles in my body tensing up. The light from the coming dawn reflected off of my gallstone eye, giving me a killer look. If only there were some way to record that look and instance for posterity, it would be the one you'd all be carving those statues I asked for to look like. Teeth grit, lips sneering, heart racing. I was the epitome of elven kind. Nay, of all mortals that traversed Nnon far and wide. After all, I was now the woman with wings, ready to swoop in and save the day. You really can't get much more amazing than that.
I guess Lock looked pretty cool, too. I'd fashioned her a quick, incomplete cap made out of plate and leather, offering her my sole spare pair of goggles, saying if she ruined them, she'd owe me more than just enough ducats for a new set. I placed my old helm on from back when I was buy a simple guardsman for the caravan, when The Marshal and I were the greatest duo the Stormlock tribe had ever seen. I'd not needed it in ages, but it felt appropriate to throw it and my old plate jacket on. I smudged some dirt under my eyes and snorted, boots and gloves buckled on extra hard. I took The Marshal in my hands and rubbed his rag on him, knowing that I at least owed him one last time with his lady love should we part ways in this fight. Don't worry, Lady Raggington, I assured her. If your silky smoothness and oil blemishes could not meet him again in this earth, surely Laeshann would re-unite you and The Marshal in the skies above. You'll have earned your wings.
If I was going to go out as a winged warrior and not an inventor, I wanted to at least look the part. And Lock was no exception, being my prized lover now, she was as part of me as anything else. Of course she didn't get to look quite as decked out as I did, but I'm sure she more than makes up for that by being scaly and being able to breathe flames at will. Intimidation works, what can I tell you? If looks could kill, our job would be done already. Just flash a toothy grin and watch them all fall before us. Form a line to swoon here, please. Try not to faint too hard, I don't need swoon puke on my shoes.
We had a large tarp that was as close to sand color as possible covering the Lock Mark I. Yeah, I named it. And I named it after her. Because without her, it wouldn't be the amazing machine of death it is now. Besides, that simple name sounds mean and crunchy. It's definitely not something you want on your ass. When we were to be assaulted, the mother dune cat, Mimi, would come in and holler at us, signaling our need to board up and fly out. I'd made sure to fill it entirely to last as long as possible without landing. All that was left was for that call.
To be honest, it felt like my heart had leaped up into my throat. Cold sweat covered me, which you think would be refreshing in a desert, except for the part where it just feels really gross. Especially when you can't change out of your cool armor and go wash up. I don't need it to rust or jam now. Lock placed a hand on my shoulder and giggles a bit. “Smells like boss is nervous! Calm down, we'll be alright, after all, Lock's the one that knows them best, and Lock say they don't stand a chance against anyone as cocky as you! They're not used to their elves being tough and tumble like yas!”
As soon as I went to thank her for her words, Mimi walked up and started mewling at us, sounding desperate and hungry. Her nose could catch wind of dragonkin from miles away, probably due to how incredibly horrendous their fire breath stinks. And you wonder why I called them flamefuckers once upon a time. I reached down to pet Mimi's cute face and offer her a bit of lemonade. She declined, instead breaking back for the wagons and protecting herself. Do cats even like lemonade? Apparently not. That's rude of them. I just want to share the most wondrous flavor there ever was! Think of it was payment! Besides, where in The Embers am I supposed to get fish all the way out in the Razan desert to feed her with? She can wait until we find another bazaar to trade from.
We nodded and went to go move the tarp, revealing the Lock Mark I and preparing to board its beautiful, slender figure. I turned to look Lock in the eye, the slightest hint of hesitation still in me. Even my gallstone eye looked terrified. I could sense hesitation in her as well. Perhaps she felt like a traitor, the full impact of what she was doing helping me only hitting her now? Did my fear channel into her? Was it both? Neither? Did she have to pee? The world may never know. But now was not the time for standing around stuttering like fools. History is only made by those that misbehave and rewrite all the rules, and we were about to slap a flying mod on all of them and send them packing. It's my way or the highway. I hopped in first and tried to grin, showing it was no big deal. I think Lock could tell I couldn't quite fake it, despite my usual demeanor, but took that as a sign of just how serious this actually was, getting in and settling her hand on a lever I'd put in front of her. The Marshal could rest at my side, secure, because if either of us were to go in this fight, surely the other would follow them to the beloved, blessed bosoms of Laeshann, there to dance the hero's dance forevermore.
We switched the engine on and pulled on our controls and felt ourselves begin to lift, letting out one last sigh before taking up to the sky and ascending ever slowly. As our eyes began to align with the dunes out in the distance, we saw a few familiar shapes rapidly approaching us. Shit. This really was going to be it. I'd never felt less free in my life, despite being up, we were going to be cornered, and I was going to have to struggle through. If only we'd launched a minute sooner, I'd have been able to show up first and surprise them. Oh well, there was no worrying then, I just flipped a switch and pressed a button that lay there, the muzzle and barrel of a large gun coming out. To be fair, though, it was more like a sea ship's cannon than anything I'd ever fired. Like fuck I was going to go out there unarmed. Any chance to show off something bigger and blastier is okay in my books. Then again, this is my diary, it is my book, written out of the goodwill of my heart. Of course anything goes. And best of all? You're going to believe it. I'm number one!
There was no real way to aim with these things, unfortunately. I didn't have quite enough time to build any sights or anything for this, and given my one eye, there was no way I'd be able to fire accurately. However, who said I would be the one attacking? I had another perfectly willing set of eyes and hands behind me, her ears and nose helping her line up where they were going to go, familiar with her own tribe's scent and movements, having me line up where she directed and firing. I felt the whole plane push back as she did, jolting around, ears ringing hard from the expulsion. Seems in my haste I'd forgotten earplugs. I'd just have to get used to it because that was fucking awesome and of course we were going to do it again and again. We did miss the first couple times, just as they did, telling us how to adjust and plow straight ahead.
Though you know what's even jerkier? Dodging. I'm glad I'd invented seat belts or I'd have been tossed out on my hot ass already a dozen times. Do you know what is the absolute jerkiest? Having to dodge and fire at the same time. My ears and stomach began to both roar at me quite angrily, and understandably so. I'd not taken into account possible airsickness and I was a damn fool not to have, because a stomach full of nothing but lemonade made for nausea and a full bladder. Not a combo I needed right then. I saw dragonkin fly past and towards the wagons, the sound of gunfire from those left behind counterattacking. All of it rang into my head more than I'd like to admit, but will anyways just so you know the extent of what I went through for you all, ensuring we'd only be able to knock out a few of them from the sky with our cannonballs before I gave a command.
Switch to the sweeping artillery. And don't reach over, because I'm about to be sick.
I flipped a switch and immediately turned my head over, hurling a violent, glowing golden stream down the side of the plane and down to the sands. My head beat like a set of war drums from Labrysinnia, making me reel further. Once I recovered, I saw the flamethrower I attached to the plane shoot out and roar as angry as my gut did, spewing heat all over anyone who dared get too close to us. I was unsure how well it'd work against scaly tailhumpers, but Lock's breath was too powerful and hot for me to ignore. As I had sketched her, I noticed how good of a weapon it'd make. And it was a bit easier to fuel and keep loaded than the cannon. Until I could focus again, we'd have to risk it and just burn everyone and everything. I felt bad for anyone that would get hit by friendly crossfire, but not as bad as the guy who got the majority of my juice splatter on their head. Sorry about that. Maybe. It is kind of funny, at least.
You know what's entirely not funny though? Sabotage. Betrayal. I felt the engine stall hard, changing us to just gliding. Gliding all too fast and heading straight for a dune. This shouldn't have happened; I'd checked and double checked everything before bed. What was worse was my eyes were unfocusing and I felt bleary and achey. Someone had spiked my lemonade. I turned to instruct Lock on how to crash land us, and all I heard was one phrase that made my heart sink entirely.
“Sorry, boss. Lock didn't mean to...”
My ears tuned out then. My mind could only come to one conclusion. I'd been had and used. I should have known better than to trust and love a dragon. If it weren't for the fact that I passed out the second the plane hit, then both sides of this battle would have bore witness to the most epic lover's quarrel ever shouted. It's not every day you see an elf break up with a dragon in mid-air, now is it?
It could wait an hour for me to wake up. Dammit, Lock. This hurt. So that's what that look in her eye meant. I felt anger swirl in me as I blacked out. Though if I was that angry, why did my heart still yearn for her? I'd never forgive her.
Total Words So Far - 43006
(Israa's note: It appears I've come almost to the end of this diary; only two main entries are left for me to copy. This entry is littered in what appears to be the faint remnants of dirt and bloodstains. Whatever am I about to transcribe is most likely violent. Or, chances are, knowing Basira? She cut herself and ran home before victory. Either way, she lived. Otherwise she wouldn't have wrote this, especially in her mostly past tense narrative style. Someone sure likes to hear themselves talk, if that weren't obvious already. Besides, her skull is too thick to kill by normal means. Unless they came up with some kind of super cannon in that one week preparing to attack, then chances are this woman could survive even Laeshann cooking her with some kind of holy sexy beam or whatever it is the gods use. I don't know, I've never spoken to them. The woman had the survival instinct of a pack of horny vermin looking to reproduce and fill our walls with their annoying, scummy brood.)
If you're reading this, then you ought to be congratulating me. It's been a long, long day, full of death, fire, betrayal, heartbreak, blood splatters, the roaring of engines, and most of all, my having claimed victory. I stand before you now a heroine of legend, or rather, I write as one. Historians of the future take note, because this is how you do it. Get your notebooks out and clean out your ears so burdened with wax and other filth, because Basira Nejem is in the house and she's about to school you all in how to deliver a package of pain bigger than my phantom prick.
It's best to start off from the beginning though, isn't it? You gotta build these things up slow. If you want to get as good as I was out there, you gotta study the whole thing, not just the end or the showy parts. After all, the little bits make the biggest bang!
Anyways. On with the show. I'm sure you're all dying to know by now how I pulled this one off, given how much I've hyped this and how much I came to love that plane that gave me the freedom I'd yearned for like a lover pining for their paramour, right? At least humor me enough and say you are. Act like it, future generations, because this one was dedicated to all of you.
Our grand tale begins just after I had pissed, gotten dressed, and chugged enough lemonade to drown the wolves that guarded our wagon. Except I don't think they'd appreciate having their coats ruined by such, but that's neither here nor there, now is it? My hand came to shield my eyes as it looked off in the distance, knowing that the night would be fully rid of its presence at any minute. Really, could you keep the suspense up any more? But enough teasing. I'll relent for now and tell you my heroic, bloody tale before you all manage to find a way to get into the past and kill me before I can save the day, just so you never have to hear about it. You pansies.
The sun rose over the dunes, glaring off into my eyes, sharp and early, bright as Laeshann's tits were white. Perhaps the sun itself is her ass, glowing and guiding us, or simply her slit hairs shining and reflecting down upon us as she grins. Either way, it was enough for me to take the goggles from the top of my head and pull them down over my eyes, looking determined, every single inch of nerves and muscles in my body tensing up. The light from the coming dawn reflected off of my gallstone eye, giving me a killer look. If only there were some way to record that look and instance for posterity, it would be the one you'd all be carving those statues I asked for to look like. Teeth grit, lips sneering, heart racing. I was the epitome of elven kind. Nay, of all mortals that traversed Nnon far and wide. After all, I was now the woman with wings, ready to swoop in and save the day. You really can't get much more amazing than that.
I guess Lock looked pretty cool, too. I'd fashioned her a quick, incomplete cap made out of plate and leather, offering her my sole spare pair of goggles, saying if she ruined them, she'd owe me more than just enough ducats for a new set. I placed my old helm on from back when I was buy a simple guardsman for the caravan, when The Marshal and I were the greatest duo the Stormlock tribe had ever seen. I'd not needed it in ages, but it felt appropriate to throw it and my old plate jacket on. I smudged some dirt under my eyes and snorted, boots and gloves buckled on extra hard. I took The Marshal in my hands and rubbed his rag on him, knowing that I at least owed him one last time with his lady love should we part ways in this fight. Don't worry, Lady Raggington, I assured her. If your silky smoothness and oil blemishes could not meet him again in this earth, surely Laeshann would re-unite you and The Marshal in the skies above. You'll have earned your wings.
If I was going to go out as a winged warrior and not an inventor, I wanted to at least look the part. And Lock was no exception, being my prized lover now, she was as part of me as anything else. Of course she didn't get to look quite as decked out as I did, but I'm sure she more than makes up for that by being scaly and being able to breathe flames at will. Intimidation works, what can I tell you? If looks could kill, our job would be done already. Just flash a toothy grin and watch them all fall before us. Form a line to swoon here, please. Try not to faint too hard, I don't need swoon puke on my shoes.
We had a large tarp that was as close to sand color as possible covering the Lock Mark I. Yeah, I named it. And I named it after her. Because without her, it wouldn't be the amazing machine of death it is now. Besides, that simple name sounds mean and crunchy. It's definitely not something you want on your ass. When we were to be assaulted, the mother dune cat, Mimi, would come in and holler at us, signaling our need to board up and fly out. I'd made sure to fill it entirely to last as long as possible without landing. All that was left was for that call.
To be honest, it felt like my heart had leaped up into my throat. Cold sweat covered me, which you think would be refreshing in a desert, except for the part where it just feels really gross. Especially when you can't change out of your cool armor and go wash up. I don't need it to rust or jam now. Lock placed a hand on my shoulder and giggles a bit. “Smells like boss is nervous! Calm down, we'll be alright, after all, Lock's the one that knows them best, and Lock say they don't stand a chance against anyone as cocky as you! They're not used to their elves being tough and tumble like yas!”
As soon as I went to thank her for her words, Mimi walked up and started mewling at us, sounding desperate and hungry. Her nose could catch wind of dragonkin from miles away, probably due to how incredibly horrendous their fire breath stinks. And you wonder why I called them flamefuckers once upon a time. I reached down to pet Mimi's cute face and offer her a bit of lemonade. She declined, instead breaking back for the wagons and protecting herself. Do cats even like lemonade? Apparently not. That's rude of them. I just want to share the most wondrous flavor there ever was! Think of it was payment! Besides, where in The Embers am I supposed to get fish all the way out in the Razan desert to feed her with? She can wait until we find another bazaar to trade from.
We nodded and went to go move the tarp, revealing the Lock Mark I and preparing to board its beautiful, slender figure. I turned to look Lock in the eye, the slightest hint of hesitation still in me. Even my gallstone eye looked terrified. I could sense hesitation in her as well. Perhaps she felt like a traitor, the full impact of what she was doing helping me only hitting her now? Did my fear channel into her? Was it both? Neither? Did she have to pee? The world may never know. But now was not the time for standing around stuttering like fools. History is only made by those that misbehave and rewrite all the rules, and we were about to slap a flying mod on all of them and send them packing. It's my way or the highway. I hopped in first and tried to grin, showing it was no big deal. I think Lock could tell I couldn't quite fake it, despite my usual demeanor, but took that as a sign of just how serious this actually was, getting in and settling her hand on a lever I'd put in front of her. The Marshal could rest at my side, secure, because if either of us were to go in this fight, surely the other would follow them to the beloved, blessed bosoms of Laeshann, there to dance the hero's dance forevermore.
We switched the engine on and pulled on our controls and felt ourselves begin to lift, letting out one last sigh before taking up to the sky and ascending ever slowly. As our eyes began to align with the dunes out in the distance, we saw a few familiar shapes rapidly approaching us. Shit. This really was going to be it. I'd never felt less free in my life, despite being up, we were going to be cornered, and I was going to have to struggle through. If only we'd launched a minute sooner, I'd have been able to show up first and surprise them. Oh well, there was no worrying then, I just flipped a switch and pressed a button that lay there, the muzzle and barrel of a large gun coming out. To be fair, though, it was more like a sea ship's cannon than anything I'd ever fired. Like fuck I was going to go out there unarmed. Any chance to show off something bigger and blastier is okay in my books. Then again, this is my diary, it is my book, written out of the goodwill of my heart. Of course anything goes. And best of all? You're going to believe it. I'm number one!
There was no real way to aim with these things, unfortunately. I didn't have quite enough time to build any sights or anything for this, and given my one eye, there was no way I'd be able to fire accurately. However, who said I would be the one attacking? I had another perfectly willing set of eyes and hands behind me, her ears and nose helping her line up where they were going to go, familiar with her own tribe's scent and movements, having me line up where she directed and firing. I felt the whole plane push back as she did, jolting around, ears ringing hard from the expulsion. Seems in my haste I'd forgotten earplugs. I'd just have to get used to it because that was fucking awesome and of course we were going to do it again and again. We did miss the first couple times, just as they did, telling us how to adjust and plow straight ahead.
Though you know what's even jerkier? Dodging. I'm glad I'd invented seat belts or I'd have been tossed out on my hot ass already a dozen times. Do you know what is the absolute jerkiest? Having to dodge and fire at the same time. My ears and stomach began to both roar at me quite angrily, and understandably so. I'd not taken into account possible airsickness and I was a damn fool not to have, because a stomach full of nothing but lemonade made for nausea and a full bladder. Not a combo I needed right then. I saw dragonkin fly past and towards the wagons, the sound of gunfire from those left behind counterattacking. All of it rang into my head more than I'd like to admit, but will anyways just so you know the extent of what I went through for you all, ensuring we'd only be able to knock out a few of them from the sky with our cannonballs before I gave a command.
Switch to the sweeping artillery. And don't reach over, because I'm about to be sick.
I flipped a switch and immediately turned my head over, hurling a violent, glowing golden stream down the side of the plane and down to the sands. My head beat like a set of war drums from Labrysinnia, making me reel further. Once I recovered, I saw the flamethrower I attached to the plane shoot out and roar as angry as my gut did, spewing heat all over anyone who dared get too close to us. I was unsure how well it'd work against scaly tailhumpers, but Lock's breath was too powerful and hot for me to ignore. As I had sketched her, I noticed how good of a weapon it'd make. And it was a bit easier to fuel and keep loaded than the cannon. Until I could focus again, we'd have to risk it and just burn everyone and everything. I felt bad for anyone that would get hit by friendly crossfire, but not as bad as the guy who got the majority of my juice splatter on their head. Sorry about that. Maybe. It is kind of funny, at least.
You know what's entirely not funny though? Sabotage. Betrayal. I felt the engine stall hard, changing us to just gliding. Gliding all too fast and heading straight for a dune. This shouldn't have happened; I'd checked and double checked everything before bed. What was worse was my eyes were unfocusing and I felt bleary and achey. Someone had spiked my lemonade. I turned to instruct Lock on how to crash land us, and all I heard was one phrase that made my heart sink entirely.
“Sorry, boss. Lock didn't mean to...”
My ears tuned out then. My mind could only come to one conclusion. I'd been had and used. I should have known better than to trust and love a dragon. If it weren't for the fact that I passed out the second the plane hit, then both sides of this battle would have bore witness to the most epic lover's quarrel ever shouted. It's not every day you see an elf break up with a dragon in mid-air, now is it?
It could wait an hour for me to wake up. Dammit, Lock. This hurt. So that's what that look in her eye meant. I felt anger swirl in me as I blacked out. Though if I was that angry, why did my heart still yearn for her? I'd never forgive her.
