Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Djinn and the Vartija, part I


Have you ever had your cellphone ring at the most inappropriate of times? Like when you're in a library staring at the cutest guy in the entire universe and suddenly a wolf whistle breaks the silence and everyone (including the cutie) is staring right at you, and there is no way you could possibly get any more embarrassed then that.
Then you realize that they aren't staring because your phone rang, but because you've been set on fire.
Well this isn't exactly like that (I should know, seeing as that example was me...) but its pretty close.
Anyway, here's the scene;

Monster of the Week: Muritage Sosniak, exiled prince of the Dahl-Naq.
Weakness: Currently unknown, hopefully dust. Or rocks...
Threat level: Omicron
Evil Plan: #68. Destruction of my kind, starting with me. (Hey, what I am is not my fault.)

Hero: The one and the only... Emrri Kieryn. (namely, me.)
Species: Vartija
Powers: Taming of any creature (after I've safely bound it.), the ability to call any creature (which I've yet to learn how to control...)
Current equipment: Cellphone, ice pick, ballpoint pen, pocket watch (its my binding tool), and a tube of glitter glue.
Plan: Absolutely nothing at the moment, due to my previous plan failing.

And now that you know the teams, onto the Hunt...

Little Tamer, come out and play.”
I was frozen, not daring to even breath as the taunts continued above where I hid. Not that I had much choice, seeing as I was hanging by my fingertips to the edge of a cliff. At least it was a part of the cliff-face, albeit a small piece tucked under the actual cliff.
My strength was waning, I wouldn't be able to hide like this for much longer. But with Muritage on the cliff above my hiding place, to move would mean death.
  I hadn't decided what Muritage was yet.
At first I was leaning toward him being a nix; but after he set me on fire, I kind of had to scratch shape-shifting water sprite off my list. The only shape-shifting critter I could recall that manipulate fire were the kitsune, but that just didn't feel right. I was nearly certain that he was some kind of shape-shifter, and knew that he had an affinity for both water and fire. Which was really odd when I got to thinking about it. Water and fire didn't really mix well together. Typically a creature would only have one or the other.
He could be a halfling. That would explain the shape-shifting and the mix of elements—
A piercing wolf whistle broke the anxious silence of my hiding place and my train of thought. I fought back the urge to kick myself, deciding that remaining attached to the cliff was more desirable.
Why did I leave my cellphone on?
I glared at my pocket, willing the battery to suddenly die, or for the speakers to implode or something. Not that it mattered, my cover had been blown. I needed to get off this cliff side.
Since up was where I had last heard Muritage, down seemed the best option.
I quickly studied the rough rock below me, trying to plot the fastest course. I had scarcely started down when something slammed me into the cliff.
Heh, forgotten the first rule of the hunt?” A light, teasing voice tutted quietly. I felt his breath by my ear, followed by a comment uttered so softly, I nearly missed it. “Silence is your greatest weapon.”
Then he backed off; though still kept me pinned to the cliff. I could barely breath. One arm was trapped underneath me, while the other still clung to the cliff.
My phone was still ringing, which made me laugh. The weight on my back shifted, followed by a question.
Why would any sane Tamer bring such an infernal device on a hunt?”
Don't know, never met another of my kind. The ability to call critters isn't very handy if you can't turn it off, especially considering the types like you who would like nothing better then to wipe us out of existence. Or so I've read.” I tried to catch a glimpse of Muritage out of the corner of my eye, wondering if he had shape-shifted into his true form. His persona of a guy in his late teens wouldn't exactly be able to fly.
Disappointing, but a lone Vartija is better then an entire infestation. Any last words?”
I hated when they just skipped to the carnage.
Yes, quite a few actually. What are you? Some kind of shape-shifter, with affinity over water and fire... are you some kind of halfling, or just really weird?”
He laughed, a cold sound that lasted for only a second.
You haven't heard of my kind? That's magnificent, absolutely alluring. You don't know your own history.” I imagined him shaking his head with a superior smile.
What history?” I asked, “I'm just a girl trying to keep earth nice and comfy for humankind. The only history I have is in a single charred journal. And a list of overdue books about a mile long...” I caught a glimpse of chestnut hair as he leaned closer towards me, before it disappeared.
You truly have no knowledge of your species betrayal.” His voice had grown soft with disbelief. I nodded, which is really hard to do while pinned to a cliff.
He seized my left arm with one hand, then the pressure against my back vanished.
My arm screamed in agony as all my weight was place on it, and it took a couple of fuzzy seconds for my brain to realize that it was still attached.
Then he let go of my arm.
I fell, then agony tore though my left wrist as metal cut into it hit and stopped my fall.
I looked up and found my left wrist was chained to the cliff. With an actual shackle and chain.
That's new.” I grunted, blinking away tears. Having your body supported by a single wrist hurts. I blinked a few more times, trying to ignore blood trickling down my arm. Instead, I focused on the fact that Muritage was standing before me. Just standing on air. Nothing strange about that. I took a moment to study him.
His sleek, wavy chestnut hair just covered the tips of his ears. He had a very sharp face; high cheekbones, straight jawline, pointed chin. His eyebrows had a slight roundness that, along with his small forehead, helped to soften his face. Almond shaped amber eyes, and a hawk's nose. His dark olive skin helped to bring out a caramel color in his eyes.
He was dressed way too fancy for a hunt. Dark gray, double-breasted cashmere suit; a lighter gray silk shirt underneath, with a burgundy tie to finish the look of elegance. And did I mention the oxford shoes?
His mouth was turned up in a smirk. “Your species always was attracted to mine.”

Friday, February 24, 2012

To say thank you

1. You have been saved from plummeting six flights of stairs.
2. Uncle Stu has made his famous coconut cookies.
3. Someone tells you the difference between a food turner and a spatula.
4. A friend offers you a hat after you receive a horrible haircut.
5. You are invited to go a gathering with friends.
6. Someone gives you a hug.
7. You finish a new book. (Note: authors may not have the ability to hear you yell thanks at the cover of said book.)
8. You have a good day.
9. Your pet cat brings you a live mouse.
10. You are given the opportunity to serve another.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Thoughts about a book

Once upon a time, there was a new book.
Which really had me quite hooked.
Within its pages moments were stolen away.
At any opportunity throughout the day.
The cover I stared at as I sat.
Contemplating how the design I could tat.
The characters were such a fine sight.
I'm surprised I got any sleep in the night!
This novel I feel deserves a toast.
I almost forgot the Wednesday post!

-To Hannah L. Clark's Cobbogoth
Thanks for the amazing read.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Things to do on a Saturday

1. Work in the garden. 
2. Go on an adventure, uncertain of where you will end up. 
3. Sleep off the week. 
4. Party with friends. 
5. Train a cat to turn the computer on. 
6. Watch a marathon of your favorite series. 
7. Work on your robot butler. 
8. Write a paper on the differences between Chinese and European dragons. 
9. Contemplate the meaning of various colors. 
10. Read Cobbogoth, by Hannah L. Clark. Then faint from excitement.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Princess Violet and the Castle of Clocks

Once upon a time...
There was a princess by the name of Violet.
Princess Violet lived in a lovely castle full of grandfather clocks. Every day at about half past noon; Princess Violet would wander around the castle halls and listen to the clocks go...


Then each clock would pause, silent for a second or two. During that time, Princess Violet would listen very carefully.
So carefully, that she would hear if any clock was slower then the others.


Then she would walk the corridors, until she found the off-beat clock.
Taking out her tools, Princess Violet would gently open the clock. As softly as she could, the princess would adjust the clock until it was back in sync with the others.

So the princess spent her days, caring for her beloved grandfather clocks.

                        The End

Friday, February 10, 2012

Best places to hide an elf

1. A Star Trek convention, though some people may complain that you got the ears wrong.
2. In the basement with some role-playing games and a computer.
3. At the mall in December. The kiddies will go crazy!
4. In the woods. Just try to avoid hunting season.
5. A big city, where strangeness is normal. Though a hat might help.
6. On a movie set. You can pretend to be extras!
7. Small islands are good hideouts, but lack multiple escape routes.
8. A Halloween party. You'll win any costume contests.
9. Caves are excellent. If you stock up on supplies, then you could stay for months!
10.  Wherever the elf is from. There is no better hiding place then where you can blend in with the locals.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

The story without rhyme

Once upon a time in the kingdom of foo, there lived a young rabbit without any shoes.
He would hop in the grass, but not on the rocks. And he would sit out when others would race over blocks.
But the little rabbit did have something the others did not. A bright blue, cello playing robot.
One day while he sat all alone, the little rabbit had a thought.
"With my robot and my flute, we might make a nice tune."
So he leaped up in excitement, and hurried to home.
And after some practice and a little dessert, the little rabbit decided to try out a song.
So on the night of a party, they went up on stage. He played with his robot as they had practiced at home.
Then smiled in delight as the other rabbits clapped.
"I may not have shoes for running about, but that is not all a rabbit can do!"

Friday, February 3, 2012

Uses for paperclips

1. Holding papers together.
2. As darts for a straw blowgun.
3. A belt buckle.
4. Stabbing small pieces of food.
5. Fashion. Paperclip bracelets are useful and stylish.
6. Entertainment. What shapes can you make?
7. Keeping hair out of your eyes.
8. Help in drawing a straight line.
9. Creating a fishing booth for kids.
10. As part of a plan for world domination.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

A continuation of Toxin

Summer vacation is suppose to be fun, not tortuous.
Or so I had always believed.
Yet here I was, a future junior, spending my summer away from the people I knew and loved.
Instead of hanging with my friends, I was part of an "exchange program" that I hadn't even signed up for!
I stalked downstairs, dragging my suitcase behind me. Entering the kitchen, I dropped my bag and rummaged through the cupboards for my final meal.
As I made my food, Wallace came in through the back door.
Wallace was my best friend, and had been since... Well, since we were toddlers. He was of average height, and a bit skinny; though his abs were amazingly well toned. He had messy blonde hair and slate gray eyes, and I knew that over half of my friends had fallen in love with him.
But to me, Wallace was just a friend, albeit a very good one.
“This is it.” His voice was bored, yet I knew he liked my situation just as much as I did.
“Yep.” I finished cooking my food, and poured it into two bowls. I handed one to Wallace, then leaned against the counter.
“So where are they sending you?”
“A little village somewhere in England.” I sighed, then took a bite of my noodles. The salty flavor blended with the smooth spices well.
Wallace shook his head, his eyes closing for a moment.
“England? I'd be careful over there, they apparently love American girls.”
I frowned, then shook my head with a sigh.
“I won't have any problems, not going to this village. It's not even on the map. My biggest worry will be to not die of boredom.”
Wallace sighed, opening his eyes. He looked at me, sorrow plainly visible within the gray depths of his gaze.
“Couldn't someone else have been chosen for this "exchange program"? Why are they forcing you to go?”
I shrugged, finishing my breakfast and setting the bowl in the sink.
“I don't know. Apparently I was asked for by name. And the reason my parents won't let me back out is because of the funding. Round trip first class ticket: already paid for. Room and board while I'm over there: free. Funding for any educational activities I may want to do: provided in full. It all seems to good to be true, but the sponsor is a well known professor from London.”
I ran a hand through my dark brown hair, twisting one of the almost black strands around my finger.
My hair sometimes made me look deathly pale, but I think it was my eyes that really spooked people.
You see, I have yellow irises. Technically they are classified as amber, but the color is differently yellow. They're like the eyes of an animal, but I've been told that they run in the family on my mother's side.
Wallace set his now empty bowl on the counter by the sink and walked to the door. He opened it, then nodded his head towards the backyard.
I walked outside; leaving my suitcase by the door.
Together, we walked to the old tire-swing. I climbed up the tire, then pulled myself up the rope until I sat on the branch above.
All those years of climbing things had given me a knowledge of what I was capable of doing, as well as building a strong muscle memory of how to find hand holds and footholds.
Wallace climbed up and sat beside me, staring out at the early morning sky.
“How long?”
“I don't know. Possibly the whole summer. Half at the very least.”
A frown appeared on his face for a moment, before disappearing. I kept my own face expression less, knowing that there was no reason to spend these final moments wallowing in a pool of self-pity.
I plucked a leaf off the branch and let it fall; watching as it spun to the ground.
When I looked at Wallace again, I found him staring at me.
Wallace was one of the only people who could meet my eyes without flinching.
I met his eyes, waiting for him to speak. He continued to stare into my eyes for a few moments, then spoke.
“Shania, be careful over there. I don't like what I've heard about this exchange program, and I can tell you don't like it either. But since there is nothing I can do to stop it, I want you to have this.”
He pulled off a ring from his right middle finger and gave it to me.
I looked at the ring, surprised by the sudden gift.
The ring was carved out of a black stone; with a odd pattern of symbols etched into it's surface.
It was peculiar, but I loved it.
“Thank you, Wallace...”
He smiled at me, his head leaning toward mine...