Poetry - Wish - Neil Gaimen
A little poem and a little art for 2019, from Neil Gaimen.
Monday, December 31, 2018
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Quotes - Martha Graham
Quotes - Martha Graham
“No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction; a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
― Martha Graham
“No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction; a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
― Martha Graham
Saturday, December 1, 2018
West Marches - Beneath the Surface, Quiz's Counterpoint
West Marches - Beneath the Surface, Quiz's Counterpoint
There was no indication of time in the Estate House of Moray, but somehow, the Dwarves all seemed to have some internal clock to their rhythms. Celebratory drinking and song eventually gave way to sombre storytelling and the dull clink of passing coin and card. Over time, the dwarves came to a drunken state of rest, emaciated from their predicament as they were, their constitutions yielded to strong drink. Around him, Sedriks idly plucked at the Viola like a guitar, watching and nodding as handfuls of small brass and silver coins were deposited on the table before him.
There was no indication of time in the Estate House of Moray, but somehow, the Dwarves all seemed to have some internal clock to their rhythms. Celebratory drinking and song eventually gave way to sombre storytelling and the dull clink of passing coin and card. Over time, the dwarves came to a drunken state of rest, emaciated from their predicament as they were, their constitutions yielded to strong drink. Around him, Sedriks idly plucked at the Viola like a guitar, watching and nodding as handfuls of small brass and silver coins were deposited on the table before him.
Friday, November 23, 2018
West Marches - Friends on The Dock
West Marches - Friends On The Dock
Azais and Sedriks are wandering the vast docks in Soulbrook, watching ships unload various sized crates and cages. The sun is uncomfortably hot for Azais' liking, thankfully the salty breeze helped take the edge off.
Azais and Sedriks are wandering the vast docks in Soulbrook, watching ships unload various sized crates and cages. The sun is uncomfortably hot for Azais' liking, thankfully the salty breeze helped take the edge off.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
West Marches - Morning at the Manor
West Marches - Morning at the Manor
The day dawned bright with a clear blue sky indicative of the water the Whiskey Riders were so near. Silea eyed the piece of bacon she had plucked from her breakfast plate. Perhaps it was not big enough, she thought, though the time to rectify such a potential social error was decidedly past. Shaking her head Silea went over the possible options for the beginning of dialogue before, mindful of how soft her steps could potentially be, she proceeded through the front door of Gilham Manor. Sedricks was lounging on the main steps of the Manor, viola on his shoulder as he plucked idly; jotting notes down in a ragged book of tangled vellum. Silea’s eyes darted to the area nearby to find Lute: artfully stalking a butterfly.
Silea approached cautiously, holding out the bacon and taking care not to be too quiet or accidentally startle either man or kitten.
"Are you writing a song?"
The day dawned bright with a clear blue sky indicative of the water the Whiskey Riders were so near. Silea eyed the piece of bacon she had plucked from her breakfast plate. Perhaps it was not big enough, she thought, though the time to rectify such a potential social error was decidedly past. Shaking her head Silea went over the possible options for the beginning of dialogue before, mindful of how soft her steps could potentially be, she proceeded through the front door of Gilham Manor. Sedricks was lounging on the main steps of the Manor, viola on his shoulder as he plucked idly; jotting notes down in a ragged book of tangled vellum. Silea’s eyes darted to the area nearby to find Lute: artfully stalking a butterfly.
Silea approached cautiously, holding out the bacon and taking care not to be too quiet or accidentally startle either man or kitten.
"Are you writing a song?"
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
West Marches - Gilham Magic
West Marches - Gilham Magic
There is a sub-basement room in Gilham Manor, the Whiskey Riders' new outpost in Sou'Brook, that most of the Riders don't know about yet. When they were clearing out the years of junk and making it livable, Quiz found the servants door to the underground cellar and decided to not mention it to the group.
Quiz now stands in the room, manipulating a ball of glowing light in his tiny hands. It fills the space with orange-red shadows and beams. He tosses the ball to the figure near him. "Catch it."
Sedriks' reflexes are instant and fingers snap upwards, but the ball shifts harmlessly through, ghostlike and insubstantial.
Azais playfully laughs from the stairwell. Quiz shakes his head, snaps his fingers, and the ball of light flies back to his palm. "It's not so much grabbing it as it is... you need to grab the space around it."
Sedriks focuses, thinking and hooking his thumbs into his armor, steadying his breathing.
"Hold it without holding it," Quiz continues. "Your hand isn't carrying weight; it's carrying a map for the light." He throws the ball again.
There is a sub-basement room in Gilham Manor, the Whiskey Riders' new outpost in Sou'Brook, that most of the Riders don't know about yet. When they were clearing out the years of junk and making it livable, Quiz found the servants door to the underground cellar and decided to not mention it to the group.
Quiz now stands in the room, manipulating a ball of glowing light in his tiny hands. It fills the space with orange-red shadows and beams. He tosses the ball to the figure near him. "Catch it."
Sedriks' reflexes are instant and fingers snap upwards, but the ball shifts harmlessly through, ghostlike and insubstantial.
Azais playfully laughs from the stairwell. Quiz shakes his head, snaps his fingers, and the ball of light flies back to his palm. "It's not so much grabbing it as it is... you need to grab the space around it."
Sedriks focuses, thinking and hooking his thumbs into his armor, steadying his breathing.
"Hold it without holding it," Quiz continues. "Your hand isn't carrying weight; it's carrying a map for the light." He throws the ball again.
Monday, November 5, 2018
Life - Shatter
Life - Shatter
Shatter silver threadbare raiments
Like dust fallen silent we ply this
strangeness.
Drift ethereal and cold
I am left alone.
Shatter silver threadbare raiments
Like dust fallen silent we ply this
strangeness.
Drift ethereal and cold
I am left alone.
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