onsdag den 22. august 2012

Harding Redhand 2

    Harding's eyes drifted closed. The pain was fading. The sounds of battle came muffled from beyond a veil of numbness. Back to the mud.
    A bone-rattling slap snapped Harding's head to the side, and he came instantly, painfully awake with a squawk. A pair of startlingly blue eyes loomed over him.
   'Blue-Eyes?' he croaked.
   'Oh, good,' Blue-Eyes said, a wide smile on his face. 'You're still alive. On your feet, Redhand!'
    Harding was pulled roughly to his feet, screaming in pain as the arrows in his chest and gut twisted. 'Did, fuckin' shit, did we win?'
    'Well,' Blue-Eyes said, 'Not exactly.'

lørdag den 14. juli 2012

Harding Redhand

Harding squatted next to Blue-Eyes and handed him a heel of dry bread.
    'See anything?' he asked.
    Blue-Eyes shrugged. 'Not much. Reckon I saw movement in the pass, couple of hours ago, but this damn fog ain't making my job any easier.' He sniffed at the bread, frowning. 'We got any butter?'
    Harding snorted laughter. 'Bread's all we got, and there ain't much left of it. Be thankful for what you get.'
    'I'd be more thankful for a prime cut of beef,' Blue-Eyes said, chewing reluctantly on the weeks-old bread. 'Roasted on a spit, maybe. Smothered in rich butter.' He stared dreamily out into grey depths of the misty forest. 'Fat sizzling on the coals,' he murmured, Harding forgotten.


    His heart beat like a drum against his rib cage, blood rushing through his head like a river. He was shaking with fear, excitement and impatience, one hand clamped around his axe like a vice, the other gripping his round shield. Through the mist, he could see the line of dark shapes moving through the valley like a great snake.
    Soon, the chief would sound the charge. Soon, the Northwind tribe would descend from the mist like wolves falling upon sheep, and the White-Spear tribe would be no more.
    He started as something hit his forehead. For just a moment, he was certain that it was an arrow. I'm dead! He thought. The battle hasn't even started, and I'm fucking dead already! The drop of water ran down his face, dangling from the tip of his nose. He stared cross-eyed at it for a moment before it dropped off. He looked up. Rain.
    'Shit,' he whispered.


    The chief had sounded the charge too late. Harding knew this even as he ran screaming down the hill towards the White-Spears. The rain had driven away the mist too quickly, and now White-Spear arrows were picking off men all around him. They had already formed the shield-wall, spears pointing at him like accusatory fingers. Harding ran as fast as he could. He had to close the distance before-
    He was on the ground, staring at the . He blinked, confused, and tried to stand up. He gasped as pain shot through him like lightning. Breathing hard through gritted teeth, he lifted his head to look down.
    One arrow jutted from his chest, another from his gut. He almost passed out from the sight of the.
    'Shit,' he muttered. 'Shit. Shit.'
    Someone charged past him, heavy scale boots clanking and rattling, and Harding tried to stand again. The pain was too much, and he fell back onto the wet dirt.


    The drops of rain fell like hammer blows on Harding Redhand's bruised and battered body.
    He could hear sounds of battle not far off; the clash of swords and shields. The thump of axes biting into wood and steel and flesh. The rapid series of twangs as someone let loose a flight of arrows. The screams of men. Harding wondered who was winning.

tirsdag den 3. juli 2012


Bloodbeard crouched behind his shield as arrows, spears and rained down around him. He huddled at the base of Whitehaven Keep's northern wall, trying to make himself as small as possible and praying to every god he could think of. A spear thrown from the ramparts above struck his shield with a sharp crack of splintering wood.

tirsdag den 26. juni 2012

Nualia's Nightmare

All of a sudden, the room is covered in a dazzling flash of light and you instinctively close your eyes…
When you open your eyes again, you find yourselves standing suspended weightless in the air overlooking Sandpoint and what appears to be the old church that got burnt down in place of the new cathedral.

The door to the church furtively opens as a beautiful little girl with silver hair and violet eyes pokes her head furtively outside before timidly walking outside. As she daintily walks down the steps, a stone flies out of nowhere and hits her head. Boyish giggling can be heard in the distance as someone yells: “Freak! Go back inside!” Clutching the bloody welt on her forehead, she runs back inside crying.

You are transported to what looks to be a quaint, old-fashioned schoolhouse. The same sad, quiet girl sits alone in the corner, reading a book. Cruel whispering and giggling can be heard all around her, before she gets up and excuses herself to go use the restroom. Three other giggling girls follow behind her and wait for her to walk into the outhouse before piling tables and chairs outside her door. Several hours later, a little girl’s frightened screams of anguish pierce the dusk.

A teenage girl walks back home to the church from the school house. Immediately, the air is filled with lewd catcalls and hooting from the adolescent boys in the area. Extremely uncomfortable with the inappropriate attention placed upon her, she quickly runs back to the church, with her head hung low.

A young woman holding a basket is browsing through vegetables at the market, when suddenly, she feels someone yank at her hair followed closely by a loud “snip” sound. Whirling around, she sees an old woman gleefully hobble off with a handful of hair the color of the stars.

A mob of petitioners approach her. Many of them have rashes and boils, others have warts. Some others claim to hear spirits in their head. They ask her to bless them. They ask her if she could cure their maladies with her touch. One of them calls her “the Blessed of Desna.” Another asks her to drive the evil spirits out of his head by singing to him. Too much for her, she runs back to the church. They give chase.

A stern voice of an older man can be heard: “On your seventeenth birthday, I am taking you to the highly prestigious Windsong Abbey to become a nun. The Abbess expects all young applicants to be perfectly versed in their catechisms. You may not leave this room until you have memorized all of your scriptures.” Hours later, a young woman looks out the window gloomily as the sun sets and another warm summer day spent cloistered in her chambers.

A handsome Varisian boy, who recently arrived at Sandpoint from Magnimar, takes her on a picnic for a date. It is her first picninc. They sit on a grassy knoll and watch the sun set. She falls in love.

Weeks pass. The boy throws a stone at the church window. The window opens and the girl looks outside. She smiles happily at him before clambering over and climbing down on a cloth rope. He takes her hand and takes her to the moonlit beach. They walk for awhile in the sand until they come upon a strange cave nestled within the cliffs underneath the newly built Glassworks. Giggling softly, they both go inside.

Months pass. The two young lovers sit shoulder to shoulder at the mouth of the cave overlooking the waves at night. The girl turns to the boy and says that she has something important to tell him. “What’s the matter?” the boy asks tenderly. “I’m pregnant.” The girl says. “You’re lying!” “No, I swear it’s true.” “How could this happen! I thought your kind was infertile.” “But…what are we going to do now?” “What do you mean we? I will be going to Magnimar with my caravan next week.” “I thought you said you were going to stay here with me.” “I lied. I knew I should never have gone out with a sad little fool like you.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks away with barely a glance backwards. Mouth agape, too stunned to speak, and hurt beyond measure, the girl quietly watches her so-called “lover” disappear into the darkness.

Kneeling before the altar, she prays for repentance that she does not feel. Her foster father yelled at her harshly and had called her a “harlot” when he found out about her condition. He forbids her from leaving the church in fear public ridicule. Bitterness and rage clouds her heart like a thick poison and festers…

Eight months later, she undergoes a painful miscarriage. Through the haze of pain suffusing her entire body, she catches a glimpse of her baby – a horrific and deformed monstrosity, which the blanching midwife immediately swaddles up and takes away. In one awful moment of clarity, she realized that she had been carrying a fiend in her belly all this time. She falls into a deep coma.

Her coma-induced sleep is filled with fevered dreams. In them, a pregnant woman with three jackal heads and a serpentine tail beckons to her. She approaches slowly and falls into the demon goddess’ embrace. In her other dreams, she dreams of burning the old Desnan church – her home and prison – down, with her foster father in it. She dreams of masked men who revel in the act of hunting and killing other men. She dreams of hunting down and murdering the boy who brought her so much pain. She dreams of a hidden shrine underground shrine, where she meets her tiny new mentor. She dreams of a monstrous goblin wolf – a chosen of Lamashtu – that paces restlessly in ravenous hunger in a small chamber. She dreams of Sandpoint being overwhelmed and razed by a ravening horde of monsters, and she vividly sees herself standing amidst the ruins, reveling in the act of offering the souls of the dying to higher, more terrible beings beyond the understanding of mere mortals.

The collective vision ends here and you find that you are once again inside the heart of Thistletop.

lørdag den 9. juni 2012

30 Minute Challenge - Forfeit

    'I challenge you,' Jane said, 'To a game of chess!'
    'I forfeit,' Jimmy said, not raising his eyes from the disassembled .45 spread out on his workbench. 'You win, boss. Again.'
    Jane threw her arms into the air. 'Victory!' she proclaimed.
    'Huzzah,' Jimmy said, inspecting the .45's barrel.
    'Woo!' Jane said and strode out of the room to spread the word of her great victory. The rest of their base proved woefully lacking in people, however, so she spent a few minutes petting Mutt, Tank's 3-legged bulldog. It slept right through it all, snoring like a phlegmy buzzsaw.
    She quickly grew bored of the dog and picked up one of their 'talkies. She adjusted the wave frequency and pressed the talk button.

    Tank's 'talkie suddenly came to live with a loud squawk, making him jump and drop the armfuls of canned food he'd been carrying. They fell to the floor with a deafening clatter, and he froze where he stood, holding down the talk button on his 'talkie before Jane - it had to be Jane, he thought - could make any more noise. He strained his hearing. Were those the slow, rotting footsteps of a walker? Was it just dripping water? Was that a ticking clock or the sounds of an approaching burrower?
    The building had been an enormous shopping center once. Three stories of anything a hot-blooded American would ever need. These days you were lucky to get in and out alive.
    Satisfied that nothing had heard him, he raised the 'talkie to his mouth and spoke into it very quietly. 'Why,' Tank said. 'Are you calling me now?'
    'I won at chess!' Jane said, her excited voice distorted by the interference.
    Tank sighed and closed his eyes. 'Boss,' he said in a tired voice. 'Did you drink coffee again?'
There was a long silence.

OneWord #42 - Nest

"Eagle One, this is Nest. What is your status? Over." The radio crackled. Lieutenant James McGuinness grabbed his shoulder-mounted mic and spoke softly into it. "Approaching extraction point Bravo. Two klicks out."

søndag den 3. juni 2012

OneWord #41 - Cap

The cap fell from her head like a leaf from an autumn tree. It drifted gently to the ground in a small spiral, gliding smoothly underneath the benches of the terminal.

30 Minute Challenge - Spaceship

    Brigadier Captain Jessica Ramirez leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, listening to the quiet, tense murmur of her bridge crew. She'd been on call for the better part of three standard earth days, and while black coffee and stims could keep you going for a while, she was beginning to feel the strain. She scrubbed at her eyes with both hands, trying to force the weariness out. She knew that she really needed sleep, but she was damned if she was going to spend the last three hours of her life sleeping.
    Her ship, the HMS Hammerblow, had been stationed in the Soltaire system for three months now. Soltaire had no habitable planets, no construction yards, no mining operations and no space docks besides the tiny refueling station built specifically for Aurora Squad, the meager defense force Hammerblow was part of. It was, for all intents and purposes, a solar system devoid of any strategic value whatsoever.
    So when a Dagonite assault force showed up on long distance radar, heading on a direct intercept course for Aurora Squad's flagship, the HMS Bastion, Jessica could hardly believe it. The Dagonite force was still three days out of missile range when they first spotted it, but Bastion's radar array had gotten a solid read on their numbers.
    A spearhead of five dreadnoughts with a screen of seven smaller destroyers, and trailing behind them like a floating mountain was the massive shape of a breaching-class behemoth, designed for smashing through a solid wall of lasers and ship-to-ship missiles and torpedoes.
    Aurora Squad consisted of a total of four ships. Hammerblow and her two sister ships, HMS Asis and HMS Marion, were all destroyers. Bastion was a much larger dreadnought, but with most of her weaponry stripped away in exchange for radar arrays and other utility tools, she was worse than useless in a battle.
    Long story short, Jessica reflected, the Dagonites were going to blow Aurora Squad into so much debris and molten slag, and there was very little she could do about it. Their orders were clear: Hold Soltaire at all costs.

lørdag den 2. juni 2012

OneWord #40 - Necessity

It was only out of necessity that he had packed his semi to the rafters with assault rifles and ammo crates. He loathed violence, and guns were most certainly the most vile remnants of a barbaric age.

onsdag den 30. maj 2012

OneWord #39 - Reporter

The reporter coughed into his microphone, sending a questioning glance at his sound guy for confirmation. The sound guy gave a thumbs up, indicating his approval of the aforementioned cough. The camera guy felt a little left out.

tirsdag den 29. maj 2012

OneWord #38 - Architecture

The architecture was like nothing he'd ever seen. Spires, globes and pathways danced around each other likes snakes, twisting and turning with zero regard for gravity. The colors were blinding; hues of pink and red clashing with acid green and icy blue.

mandag den 28. maj 2012

OneWord #37 - Dilemma

The dilemma was thus: If he acted now, he could get the jump on the mouse he'd been tracking for the better part of a day. But if he did, the nearby humans would almost certainly spot him immediately. His red, furry coat stood in stark contrast to the grey, dead husk of the city.

søndag den 27. maj 2012

OneWord #36 - Transform

He transformed into a much nicer person when nobody was around. He'd fuss around the house in an apron, humming to himself as he cleaned and cooked. He'd post positive and constructive reviews online; often to the frustration of the Internet People.

lørdag den 26. maj 2012

OneWord #35 - Stunt

The stunt was one she'd done dozens of times: crash car, get thrown through front window and roll into a crouch. Her heart beat like a hammer against her ribs as she floored it.

fredag den 25. maj 2012

OneWord #34 - Leading

Leading Shannon along the trail, Jimmy couldn't help but smile. He'd spent weeks worrying and obsessing over how to approach her. When he'd asked her if she fancied a hike, her face had lit up like a new sun. When she'd said yes, his had done the same.

torsdag den 24. maj 2012

Ten Minute Challenge #2 - Pliers

    The pliers dropped from Jane's shaking hand, slick with blood and engine grease. Her would-be assailant lay next to her, a telling wound in his right temple. A pool of blood formed around him, mixing with the oil dripping from Betty's engine.

    Jane had been lying beneath Betty, working on patching up a faulty fuel line, when she'd heard someone approaching. She had assumed that it was Tank or Jimmy back from buying supplies.
    'Hey fellas,' she'd called, wiping sweat from her brow and leaving a black streak across it. 'Find anything good?' Someone had grabbed her ankle and yanked her bodily out from beneath the massive vehicle, making her yelp in surprise. She'd looked up at the the heavily built man towering over her, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun. She hadn't been able to see his face.
    'Calamity Jane?' He had asked in a raspy voice.
    'What's it to you?' Jane had replied after a moment of nervous hesitation.
    'I'll take that as a yes,' the man had said before kicking her in the face. If there had been any more power behind the kick, it would probably have broken her nose. It hadn't, but it had still hurt like hell. She'd tried to roll with the attack, but the man had kicked her again and again, and she'd had no choice but to curl into a ball, as kicks and blows rained down on her. Eventually the assault had stopped, and she'd felt a hand grip her hair. The man pulled a bruised and battered Jane to her feet by her hair and forced her to face him. He was a handsome man, she'd thought. Black hair. Blue eyes. Just the right amount of stubble.
    'You should've minded your manners, bitch,' he'd rasped and Jane had felt a cold edge of steel at her throat. She'd lashed out in panic more than anything else, and the pliers she'd still clutched in her hand sank into the man's right temple with the sound of broken bones and scrambled brain matter. He'd blinked in confusion and opened his mouth to say something before his face went slack, and he'd collapsed where he stood.

onsdag den 23. maj 2012

OneWord #33 - Monitor

The monitor flickered to life, bathing the room in a dull green light. The Overseer stretched and fell into his chair with a yawn. He squinted at the lines of text running across the monitor, fumbling for his glasses with fingers clumsy from sleep.

mandag den 21. maj 2012

Jane 4

'Y'got three seconds to get outta here!' Jane called, her voice loud enough to carry to the parked cars. After a moment of loaded silence, a deep male voice answered her.
    'Come out and say that to my face, bi-'
    'Three,' she said, kicking open the door, arm extended, and pulled both triggers on her double-barreled grenade launcher. Two 40mm high-explosive rounds streaked through the air in a graceful arc, and time seemed to slow down. That familiar rush burned in her gut. The moment before detonation was very special to Jane. Every sense was heightened. The calm before the storm squeezed into a heartbeat.

OneWord #32 - Quest

His quest was a grand one, and it had taken up the greater part of his life. He'd traveled all over the world, met people of every age and nationality, vanquished foes of every size. But still his target proved infuriatingly illusive.

søndag den 20. maj 2012

OneWord #31 - Calling

He heard the birds calling his name. They circled above him, a swirling cloud of ebony ravens, beckoning him to join the flock.

lørdag den 19. maj 2012

OneWord #30 - Pile

The pile of stacked bug corpses covered the battlefield like anthills. It hurt just looking at the twisted, broken things. Not for the first time, Jimmy wished he was back home.

fredag den 18. maj 2012

OneWord #29 - Base

    The base was under attack. This was nothing new, of course. Frontier base Alpha 3, known as "The Grinder" to those who'd been stationed there, had been under attack for about three years now, Jimmy reckoned. The bugs threw themselves mindlessly at the defenses - automated now, thank God - and were crushed, shot, impaled and incinerated in their thousands. Still they came. An ocean of rage and mandibles.
    Jimmy had long since grown used to the acrid stench of burnt flesh and chitinous plating, but the screams still kept him awake most night.

torsdag den 17. maj 2012

OneWord #28 - Backspace

He pressed backspace furiously, deleting the words he'd so carefully and painstakingly written just moments before. The footsteps came closer, urging him to greater button-mashing speed.

tirsdag den 15. maj 2012

OneWord #27 - Engine

The engine roared as Jane put the pedal to the metal, and Betty flew across the tarmac like an enraged metal bull. A car full of baddies got in their way and was quickly crushed under Betty's massive wheels.

mandag den 14. maj 2012

OneWord #26 - Insect

Insects covered Jake from head to toe. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. He didn't dare. If he disturbed the swarm, they'd descend upon him in a torrent of pincers, stingers and claws.

søndag den 13. maj 2012

OneWord #25 - Disregard

"Disregard the fact that you'd be six feet under right now if it weren't for me," she said. "Wait, no. Don't disregard that. Regard it! I'm the only reason you're alive, mister, and I'll have some gratitude out of you if I have to kill you to get it. Wait, no."

lørdag den 12. maj 2012

OneWord #24 - Lending

Lending money to people is risky business. If they decide that they don't need to pay you back before the deadline, you might have to break a few kneecaps. Most people hire some muscle to take care of that stuff. Not Jimmy "The Bones" Malone. He lives his life by that age-old axiom: If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.

fredag den 11. maj 2012

OneWord #23 - Luggage

The luggage was filled to the brim with bombs. Yes, he'd packed the bags himself. No, he wasn't a terrorist. No, he didn't know where they'd come from. Yes, he was aware explosives weren't allowed on planes. No, he didn't hate freedom.

torsdag den 10. maj 2012

OneWord #22 - Primitive

The primitive awoke. Reason were burnt away by a raging flood of raw emotion and instinct. His muscles shook and twitched, blood rushing like fire through his veins. Darkness obscured his vision.

onsdag den 9. maj 2012

OneWord #21 - Outgoing

He was an outgoing man. That is to say, he went out. He met people, and they met him, and some of them were alright. Most weren't. When he went out - outgoing man that he was - he'd always bring a few base necessities: leather gloves, a knife, a garrote and a bottle of water. You know, in case he got thirsty.

tirsdag den 8. maj 2012

OneWord #20 - Tasting

Tasting other people's food sounds like a pretty sweet gig. Most people who hire tasters eat some delicious stuff, and so you do too. When the poison shows up, though, you're gonna feel pretty stupid.

mandag den 7. maj 2012

Jane 3

Jane sang softly under her breath, loud enough only for herself to hear. Someone had sung it to her when she was a child, but she couldn't remember who. Somehow she doubted it had been her crack whore excuse for a mother.
    She removed her gun from the holster strapped to her thigh and moved to look out the boarded-up windows. Two black Rolls-Royce - big, flashy and lightly armored - blocked the main road to and from The Grinning Mutt. Four- no, five Taglioni thugs hid behind them. Waiting for her. Fully cocked. Locked and loaded. Ready to blow some holes in Calamity Jane and her crew.
    She cracked open her gun without looking at it, slid in two rounds and snapped it shut with a casual flick of her wrist.

søndag den 6. maj 2012

OneWord #19 - Instrumental

"She was instrumental to the success of the mission, colonel. She was the one who warned us about the laser defense system. She was the one who took down the Dreadnought. She knew the codes. She saved your ass."

fredag den 4. maj 2012

Anonymous Diary Entry

May 4th, 2032. 

481 days since first infection. 

They named their town "God's Virtue". Stupid name. It made Elly laugh, though, so I guess it's alright.

tirsdag den 1. maj 2012

OneWord #18 - Separate

When they were separate, they were weak. Without the bond, there was nothing to stop a stray arrow or skilled sword from killing them. When they stood back to back, though...

mandag den 30. april 2012

OneWord #17 - Hallowed

A hallowed house - unlike a haunted one - is actually a quite pleasant place to live. Angels pass by every now and then, and occasionally a saint will show up and make sure all the blessings are still in place. The only drawback is the blinding light covering everything. Sunglasses only do so much.

søndag den 29. april 2012

OneWord #16 - Alibi

'My alibi is bulletproof, alright? It's fucking solid. They won't know what the fuck to do when they try to pierce this fucking alibi. They'll pick it up and go "What the fuck is this alibi even made of? How can we handle this shit?"'

'You have no idea what an alibi is, do you?'

OneWord #15 - Sliver

A sliver of wood fell from his fingers as his knife scraped along the piece of wood he'd picked up back at base. Far-away gunfire came from due west, towards the enemy HQ. He put his helmet back on. Just in case.

torsdag den 26. april 2012

OneWord #14 - Poster

The poster showed the profile of a man. His jaw was strong and set in grim determination, as he looked up at a looming cloud of daggers, iron cogs and fire. Above the picture, the poster read "STAND STRONG". Underneath, "AGAINST THE IRON ABOMINATION".

tirsdag den 24. april 2012

OneWord #13 - Chapped

His lips were chapped and his body empty of liquid. The sun had practically burnt him to a crisp, and there was very little he could do about it. He tried to threaten the sun - did it know who he was? - but it mostly ignored him.

mandag den 23. april 2012

OneWord #12 - Scorn

Her scorn was almost palpable. He got to his feet on shaky legs, scooping up his gun where he'd dropped it. The marine sergeant snorted in contempt as he once again brought it to bear.

lørdag den 21. april 2012

OneWord #11 - Sound

The sound of bullets ricocheting around a metal container was deafening, painful and fairly surprising to Jimmy. He curled into a ball, covered his head with his arms, and prayed to various gods that he wouldn't catch a bullet to any of his favorite organs.

fredag den 20. april 2012

OneWord #10 - Swan

The swan sailed through the air far above, gliding in gentle circles before landing in the small, still pond. Ripples flowed through the water and broke silently on the smooth stones that formed the pond's edge.

onsdag den 18. april 2012

OneWord #9 - Sunglasses

The president grabbed his sunglasses, flipped them open and put them on. 'Time to take back the true American freedom,' he said and jumped into his mech. 'I'm coming for you, Richard!'

tirsdag den 17. april 2012

OneWord #8 - Earring

'Those are nice,' she said, pointing at a pair of silver earrings with green stones dangling from them. Her father ruffled her hair and presented his credit card to the clerk. 'On the card, please.'

mandag den 16. april 2012

OneWord #7 - Desk

She hid under the desk. It was nice down there. The chatter and noise of her classmates were distant and muted, and she could read her book in peace. She smiled at the thought of hiding under her desk until school was out and everybody would start looking for her.

lørdag den 14. april 2012

One Word, Ten Minutes #1 - Capture

Similar to OneWord, only ten times as long. Also Francis draws something for ten minutes.

    'Capturing a human,' Roche said in the lecturing and slightly demeaning tone his students had almost grown used to, 'Is no different from capturing a wild animal. Same three key moves.' He made a prompting gesture. 'Which are?'
    'Track. Subdue. Restrain.' His students recited in unison.
    'Correct. Tracking a human is easy. They're clumsy, crashing through the jungle like a panicky rhino and leaving a track even a hatchling could follow. Subduing them is even easier. Those of you who have seen a real human can attest that they're little more than weak, hairless apes. No exoskeleton,' Roche said, counting on his fingers as he spoke. 'No claws, no fangs, no poison, venom or toxin. They can run half as fast as us and can't climb for shit. But they're crafty fuckers. I've seen one take out three Hunters with nothing but ingenuity and sheer fucking luck. So when you've got one of them cornered, what do you do?'

OneWord #6 - Entice

She was certainly and enticing sight. With her long, flowing locks of red hair and hourglass figure, Tom was powerless to resist her feminine wiles. He handed her another handful of chocolate and she patted his head as one would a dog.

fredag den 13. april 2012

OneWord #5 - Nourish

The nourishing fruit tasted delicious. It was green, orange and yellow and tasted like a mix of apples, oranges and watermelons. It was the last thing Jack tasted before the bullet split his head like a coconut.

Jane 2

    'Betty parked out back?' Jane asked, and Tank rumbled in acknowledgement. 'Alright. Get her fueled up and ready to go. I'll join you in a sec.' She heard tank lumber through the empty bar and disappear through the back door. Jane rose on slightly wobbly legs and pushed a stray lock of her purple mohawk out of her eyes. She hated when deals went bad.

torsdag den 12. april 2012

OneWord #4 - Bitten

She'd been bitten by the dog, and it was starting to really worry her. Her arm had gone numb a while ago, and her shoulder felt little better. What if she got rabies? She didn't want to turn into a werewolf!

onsdag den 11. april 2012

OneWord #3 - Puddle

A puddle of blood seeped through his travel-worn boots and turned his white socks pink. He didn't care much at the moment, since the knife at his throat was more than a little distracting. He cleared his throat nervously.

tirsdag den 10. april 2012

OneWord #2 - Pins

Pins and needles ran in waves over his skin. The bullet wound in his right shoulder was the epicenter, and he thanked god for the painkillers that took away the worst pain.

mandag den 9. april 2012


    Jane downed a sixth shot of rotgut and slammed the glass down on the counter, grimacing at the sensation of drinking what was essentially jet fuel. More than once she'd used her own brew to power Betty when the gas had run out. It was cheaper than the real stuff and allowed her to coax more speed out of the old girl, but it chewed through the gas tanks like acid. Tasted like it, too. 
    Someone tapped her on her shoulder and Tank's deep bass sounded close behind her. 
    'Deal's done, boss,' he rumbled, sounding nothing so much as bear with gravel for lungs. 'But Taglioni's boys are waiting out front with automatics. '
    'Told ya,' she said with a slight slur in her voice. 'Fuckers are too greedy f'their own good.'

OneWord #1 - Heartache

Oneword.com is an amazing site. You get one word to write about, and 60 seconds to write. This is what I wrote for the word "Heartache."

His heart ached like an orange that had been squeezed too tightly. Spurts of citrusy juice sprang from the crannies and crevices of his heart, and it stung like a motherfucker.

lørdag den 3. marts 2012


I meant to write a travelogue for our journey to Norway to pick up a dog, but I lost like a day's worth of writing. So here are some pictures accompanied by comments and the approximate time they were taken.

23:00. And we're off! We're driving to the ferry, and it's super duper dark outside.


00:00. Arrived at the harbor. There are a whole bunch of semis and only a couple of regular cars.

01:00. Walking to our cabin. The stairways look like something out of Mirror's Edge, and I feel a sudden urge to unleash some sick parkour moves.

01:30. The cabin is small and the beds are uncomfortable, but there's a very enthusiastic magazine on the table encouraging me to "crank it up".

06:00. We've slept for 4 uncomfortable hours, and everyone is pretty tired. Sweden is cold, and the water in the harbor was covered in ice.

08:00. We might be in Norway now? I'm not sure, but we're driving over a weird-looking bridge.

09:00. Headin' to Dingle.

10:00. Harken my words, me hearties. Let me tell you the legend of ol' Captain Blackshoe, The Shoe Pirate. He looted nothing but shoes and opened up a relatively successful shoe shop in Norway. The end.

11:00. The weather's pretty great. Blue sky, clear air, bright sun.

12:00. We make a brief stop in Silent Hill, apparently.

13:00. I think we might have died dead. Heading towards the light.

13:01. Nope, false alarm.

13:30. We eat lunch at a rest stop along the highway. Cold pizza and a can of Coke is fucking DELICIOUS.

13:35. Checking the gas station for snacks, and 27 danish crowns for 80 grams of potato chips? Are you kidding me?


15:00. After driving up a terrifying ice-covered mountainside, we arrive at Geir's house/dog kennel. He wasn't actually holding a moose head when we arrived, but he was in engine grease up to his elbows, since he was fixing his car.

15:05. We meet the dogs. They're pretty great.

15:06. Nom nom nom. Satzu chewing on some puppies.

15:10. Geir invites us in for tea and coffee. He also shows us the giant, stuffed lynx he shot and killed.

15:15. There were also horses.

15:30. We head back to a nearby inn. The place is so Norwegian I don't even know.

18:00. Dinner! Potatoes, delicious brown sauce and some terrible frikadeller. Also bread and crackers.


09:00. Breakfast! Enjoying the view.

11:00. Geir arrives with Nova, our new puppy. He says goodbye, and she's a little scared.

11:30. We get to know Nova, and she sleeps a little bit.

12:00. Off we go, heading back to Denmark. Nova sleeps in her transport box, cuddled up with her mother's blanket.

12:30. Suddenly we're IN AMERICA.

12:35. Ah yes, the proud city of Dumbass.

13:30. Lunch at an old fishing shack. Nova is in the black transport cage.

15:00. We take a brief detour through Chernobyl and encounter an Anomaly. No casualties.

17:00. Arrived at the harbor, waiting for the ferry to show up. I watch MST3K while snacking on peanuts and Italian sausage. Good times.

19:00. Chilling in the cabin. Nova is sleeping on my dad.


6:20. Time to wake up. Slept absolutely terribly, and I've apparently gotten a light fever. I completely forgot to take any pictures because I was busy not throwing up.

8:00. Back in good old Denmark, and we're taking a break to grab some fresh air and eat some food.

10:00. We arrive home, and my dad carries Nova into the house. Fuck it's good to be home.

Ladies and gentlemen, after 1143 kilometers in car, 19 hours on boat and 20.000 kroner, I present to you: Nova.

She enjoys oranges, small sticks and chewing on my hair.

torsdag den 9. februar 2012

Just An Idea, continued.

The princess was at first dismayed that he had sacrificed immortality for her, but eventually she came to love the man for his utter devotion. She convinced him to leave the forest and live as humans. After much discussion, he agreed. Many of the wolves were so loyal to him that they too were made human (how?), and swore to serve as his royal guard.

They settle down, make a village, and under the rule and guidance of the wolf lord and the princess, the village grows quickly. The wolf lord's temper is fierce, but the princess can calm his by a mere touch or a quiet word. The village grew quickly, and it wasn't not long before trade caravans and settlers arrived. But with the caravans came brigands, and it became necessary to expand the army. Before long, the village had turned into a city and the guard into an army.

The arrogant king got word that his lost daughter was seen in the new city, and he arrived to take her home. The meeting between king, wolf lord and princess was tense, but eventually the king accepted that she was not held there against her will. He parted in peace, but the princess' brother - the prince - hated the wolf lord. The prince assassinated the king and took over the throne. He spread lies about the wolf lord, telling people that he was an evil abomination who had kidnapped and violated the princess.

He gathered his own army to "free" the princess and waged war on the wolf lord's small kingdom.

tirsdag den 7. februar 2012

Just An Idea

Just an idea for a story that I have to write down before I forget it. Not a real story. No names or anything.

The god of wolves (name?) took the form of a massive, grey wolf with yellow eyes and fangs the size of swords. It was taller than a man and twice the length of a horse, and it had unparalleled speed and strength. It ruled over The Biggest Forest (name?), as it had for thousands of years, but Man had always feared and hunted it. The god of wolves had grown more and more angry as men and women killed his children, and for hundreds of years he had killed any human who dared enter his domain.

An arrogant king led an army into the forest, meaning to kill the god of wolves. He brought thousands of soldiers, retainers, nobles and even his son and daughter. The king and his army cut and burned their way through the forest, pushing in to the very heart of the forest, where the god of wolves dwelt.

The god of wolves fell on the army with all the ferocity of an angered god, and when it was all over, the army was routed and the king lay wounded before the god of wolves. Just as the god was about to kill the king, the king's daughter ran in to block the god's path. She pleaded with him to spare her father's life. The god of wolves was captivated by the princess' beauty and gentle voice, and he lowered his head to the ground, his yellow eyes locking with the princess' blue. He agreed to spare the king if the princess would spend the rest of her life with the god.

She agreed - anything to save her father's life - and climbing onto his back, the god carried her deep into the forest. The god of wolves loved the princess fiercely, but he had no experience with human feelings and needs. The princess eventually grew fond of the god, but she cried often, and when she explained that she could not handle the thought of living the rest of her life without seeing another human being, he was distraught.

Jealousy prevented him from bringing other humans into his lair, but the princess' sorrow cut at his heart. He decided to make the ultimate sacrifice. Travelling to the top of Rebirth Mountain, the god of wolves called to the pantheon, begging them to hear his request. He tore his heart from his chest and placed it on something before darkness overtook him.

When he awoke, he had turned into a man. He had sacrificed his immortality so that the princess had another human being to talk to.

To be continued.

lørdag den 4. februar 2012


I also dreamt that professional Starcraft 2 player "White-Ra" grew angry once, when he was injured during his time as a soccer player.

A Dream I Had

I had a dream last night.

Me and some unknown classmates were supposed to travel to Spain for a week, but it was cancelled. So we decided to travel to a small town nearby instead. For some reason, I was transporting a litter of wolf pups in a large plastic bag. They seemed to enjoy tumbling around in it.

For some reason I was supposed to pose as the lord of Winterfell - yes, the A Song Of Ice And Fire Winterfell. To begin with, I was just supposed to claim that I was the lord, but I got an idea: why not take it a step further and take over a nearby ruined castle? Someone agreed, and suddenly I was the lord of an awesome wintery medieval viking castle. I asked the blacksmith to make me a suit of armor, and he quickly produced an awesome horned helmet and scaled chest plate. After sending him off to also make me a pair of matching boots and gloves, he was assassinated by a tall, gangly and sickly-looking man who was a pawn of a greater evil who worked in the shadows. The assassin cut his throat twice, then cut his face several times. Angered by the assassination, I summoned a huge dragon with black and grey metallic scales. I leaped on its back, and as we flew out of the great hall, my armor melted and transformed, covering my entire body. The horns grew longer, the armor more elaborate, and my body shone like fire through cracks in the armor. My eyes shone especially bright; practically two small suns.

With a few great beats of its wings, the dragon carried me over the huge mountain where my castle lay and down to a huge cathedral where the faceless evil I was hunting was hiding. It breathed a colossal ball of fire that shattered a huge mosaic in the cathedral's front wall, and as we dived through the shower of broken glass, I leaped off the dragon's back in a rage, trailing fire and screaming defiance against whatever evil had dared oppose my rule. Far below me, a creature of shadow stood. I crashed into the creature like a meteor, waves of fire engulfing everything inside the cathedral. I started pummeling the creature with my gauntleted fists, each blow sending a new wave of white-hot fire coursing out from me.

Then I woke up.

lørdag den 21. januar 2012

The King

The emissaries' footsteps echoed not at all as they were led through the halls of Windhelm keep. Jasper - tall by Imperial standards - still felt daunted by the sheer immensity of the Nords. The keep felt like a thing cut from the very mountains. Eternal, immovable. Walking beside him, his younger sister took his hand in hers. He didn't look at her, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the tall Nord guard leading them, but patted her hand gently.
    'It'll be fine, Katie,' he whispered. 'The king will listen to us.' He squeezed her hand once, then gently pried her fingers away. The guard stopped outside a pair of massive iron doors.
    'Take care that you do not insult the king,' he said and pushed open the doors before they had a chance to answer.
    Upon a stone throne sat the biggest man Jasper had ever seen. Huge even for a Nord, the king of Windhelm had thick, gray hair that fell past his shoulders. He was clad in simple woolen britches and a white shirt, opened halfway down his chest. On his shoulders - broad as a bull's - he wore the pelt of a massive wolf.
    Jasper approached the king with long, certain steps and bowed deeply.

mandag den 16. januar 2012

Letter To Josiah

    My dearest Josiah

   I write this letter in the darkest hour of night, by the light of a lantern. Soldiers march by the house every few minutes, but they've yet to attempt to enter. We pray that they pass us by. The invasion was over before anyone had a chance to fight back. Judging from the sounds of fighting, the last remnants of the royal guard are still holding out in the palace. A dying candle in a storm. Your mother and I will attempt to flee the city as soon as possible. Gods willing, we will find you in Brensburg. 

tirsdag den 10. januar 2012


    Doctor Blitzmann is barely alive when they find him. As they drag him from the ruins of his own workshop, he mutters a few choice words regarding Drow assassins and their mothers' fondness for mating with goats, before passing out.
    A few feet away, the rubble shifts. Ulrich groans as he claws himself up through crushed stone, splintered wood and shattered glass. He breaks the surface with a gasp of pain, throwing aside the body of a black-clad assassin. He staggers to his feet, surveying the scene. His throat is lined with dust.
    'Where is the Doctor?' he croaks.

mandag den 9. januar 2012


John's bed was unmade, his coat thrown across it, riddled with bullet holes. John opened the refrigerator door, ignoring the cloying smell of stale air and almost-spoiled food, and grabbed a can of coke. Flopping down in his squeaky but comfortable chair, he opened the can and drank deeply. He sighed and held the cold can to the large, blue and purple swelling over his right eye. After a few minutes the cold metal had taken the edge off the pain, and he put it down. Grimacing with pain, he carefully removed his crimson t-shirt. It had been white that morning.