Prekér Polarisering
En ikke videre oppløftende valgnatt er forbi og vi har fortsatt Arbeiderpartiet i regjering – ja, og så de to andre der! Det er selvsagt skuffende at venstre-blokken ikke får noen reel utfordring, men det er andre ting som tegner mer skremmende for framtida. Ved årets valg har vi sett en dramatisk polarisering vekk fra moderate, sindige sentrum og en illevarslende konsolidering av de tre største partiene. En kan spekulere i grunnen til dette, men resultatet er uansett en bevegelse i retning av et politisk landskap der kun tre partier – og de småpartiene disse måtte finne på å strekke ut en "hjelpende hånd" til (jfr. Siv Jensens nedlatende holdning i går) – styrer Norge. Nå er det ikke sånn at Arbeiderpartiet og Høyre er rabiate drittsekker som vil ødelegge Norge (Ap har hatt od tid på seg til nå), men jeg mener begge disse partiene krever samarbeidspartnere som kan holde dem i ørene når storkapitalen og de lokale korrup... fagforeningene beljer som verst. Partier som kan fremme en human velferdspolitikk (KrF), kvi seg fra å blindt bli med i EU (Sp), sette miljø høyere enn kortsiktig økonomisk gevinst (V og SV) og forsvare nordmenns personsikkerhet mot sterke markedsaktører (V). Jeg er skeptisk til hvor lenge et rød-grønt samarbeid kan fortsette når det er klart for SV hvordan det går å sitte i regjering i skyggen av Jens, men regner samtidig med at SVs egen maktkåthet vil holde dem der til de forsvinner helt. Og hvis de eneste motrøstene i norsk politikk skal komme fra Sp (i stor grad fordi de samarbeider så "godt" med Ap) og et tafatt KrF (i stor grad fordi de nekter å samarbeide med Frp), se da har markedskreftene seiret i dette landet. Fint for rikingene, synd for idealistene.
Jens = Da Man?
Joda, Jens er vel utkåret til valgets vinner og blant de store statsministere og så videre. Valgets vinner basert på en frykt for borgerlig side på grunn av Frp. En av de store fordi ingen som verdsetter mennesker høyere enn penger og er ved sine fulle fem vil avgi en stemme som støtter Frp. Problemet er at disse er mye færre enn det en skulle tro etter valget i 2005: Taktiske Høyre-velgere og Venstres egne skaphøyrefolk har flyktet fra partiet fordi Lars Sponheim sa klart i fra at Venstre ikke ville støtte et parti som går imot så godt som alt Venstre står for. Resultatet er at det humane sentrum svinner hen og man blir stående igjen med to valg. Med mindre man er en rendyrket kapitalist* "må" man altså støtte en rød-grønn regjering – og det betyr Arbeiderpartiet, uansett hvor pent du pynter opp samarbeidet på venstre side. Problemet er selvsagt at Kast-penger-på-problemet-partiet ikke er et humant parti, uansett hvor mye de snakker om velferd. De snakker ikke om løsninger på f.eks. Trygdeproblematikken. For Arbeiderpartiet er det mer nestekjærlighet i å bruke mer penger på trygd til de som ikke trenger det (eller, tør jeg si det; fortjener det?) enn å effektivisere ordninger slik at vi har mer penger til de som faktiske trenger det. Arbeiderpartiet minner mye om Høyre og Frp i så måte; de tror penger løser alt. Problemet er at de ikke tenker på hvordan de skal bruke dem!
Dette valget er et resultat av blant annet en blokkmentalitet som har skissert to alternativer: Et humant, velmenende rød-grønt og et kynisk, hardkapitalistisk mørkeblått. Som jeg prøver å hinte til er det selvsagt mye mer nyansert, særlig hvis sentrumspartiene har fått komme med. Men det er vel sånn stemmekveget har sett det.
Ja, jeg skulle gjerne gratulere deg, Jens, men faktum er at du har ikke gjort noe som er verdt å gratulere for. Fortsett likevel gjerne å anklage borgerlig side for å være ubestemte mens du mumler "Ja, jo, nei, kanskje, vent litt..." til Lofotboring. Det funker visst for deg.
*Du trenger ikke være en amoralsk, grådig tølper for å støtte Høyre. Men et Høyre som støtter de grådige tølperne i Framskrittspartiet...? Hmm...
Frp viser sine beste tall og sin verste side
Til sist vil jeg si noen ord om Frp i denne valgkampen. Av og til glemmer jeg meg og tror at Framskrittspartiet er et ordentlig parti, bare med til tider ekstreme høyrevridde holdninger. Så åpner en Frp'er kjeften og minner meg hvorfor Framskrittspartiet er partiet alle oppegående mennesker elsker å hate. Ved dette valget slo det meg virkelig hvor uspiselig Frp egentlig er. I en stadig mer kjepphøy tone peker Siv Jensen ut sentrumspartiene som synderne for hvorfor det ikke blir en borgerlig regjering. La oss glemme det at de utjevningsmandater Venstre mistet stort sett gikk til Høyre og Frp. Det er bra at Lars Sponheim går av og la oss godte oss over at han ikke kommer inn på Stortinget med det samme! Den urokråka ga jo uttrykk for at han ser Framskrittspartiets politikk som det avskyelige falskspillet det er! La oss glemme at Framskrittspartiet i like stor grad har lukket døra for et bredt borgerlig samarbeid ved å føre en ubønnhørlig høyreekstrem politikk alle vet sentrumspartiene ikke kan gå med på uten å gi avkall på all sin integritet og legge fra seg alle sine holdninger.
Det er ikke noe nytt at Framskrittspartiet skylder på andre for sine egne feil, men når alle de andre partilederne preker samarbeid og forsoning og Siv Jensen legger skyld med en side av kjeften og later som hun er tilgivende i en nedsettende tone med den andre, da stikker det seg ut og forsterker min tro på at Framskrittspartiet er et uhyre som ikke har noe sted i det demokratiske Norge.
Til sist gjør det meg litt vondt når Jensen viser til sine tall og sier, gang på gang at "Dette viser at vi har de tøffeste velgerne" og at de som stemmer Frp står på krava og ikke lar seg lure. Nå skal det vel sies at noen må kanskje overbevises med både argumentene "billig sprit!" og "billig bensin!", men når uføretrygdede, lavtlønnede arbeidere og ansatte i velferdssektoren stemmer på Norges libertarianere og med dette stemmer bort sine velferdsgoder, økonomiske trygghet og sikkerhetsnett, ja da, Siv Jensen, da er de lurt trill rundt!
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Thursday, 16 July 2009
New Land and Egyptian Tales update
To anyone who might still be lurking around here; I have neglected to inform you that the completed New Land-story and the result of "Egyptian Tales" (The Life and Death of King Teti and Other Pharonic Hijinks) can indeed be found at my deviantArt page.
Belatedly yours,
Jonas
Belatedly yours,
Jonas
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Larsktur Larason - Del 5 er her!
Huzzah! Endelig er "På Ville Veier" ferdig, og del fem lagt ut! Se link til høyre på siden. Er vel ingen som følger med her lenger, men nå er i alle fall den som måtte ramle innom informert - litt på etterskudd, men dog!
Skal prøve å være flinkere å oppdatere,
Jonas
Skal prøve å være flinkere å oppdatere,
Jonas
Witch Hunters Fluff (pt. 17)
"Well, that was a bit underwhelming," Inquisitor Reitzmann opined in disappointment to the two thugs as their death throes died down and he holstered his plasma pistol/crossbow.
"No need to get overconfident," Alheena warned him, keeping both hands on her laspistol. It remained unused. Reitzmann chuckled.
"Don't you agree that these two gangsters put up a poor fight for psykers?" he eyed one of the chest-bound psy-stakes for emphasis, "Even for someone stupid enough to bring a lasgun to a psy-stake fight – no offence intended."
"None taken," Alheena said, her voice betraying a smile her face did not, "They must have been very weak, I suppose?"
"A reasonable assumption," the Inquisitor agreed hesitatingly.
"You disagree?"
"It is... their minds. They felt drained somehow. I think they might have overtaxed their abilities."
"Against Ter... mister Laphas, you believe?"
"Maybe. Just make sure you are on your guard."
"Don't worry," Alheena chuckled, "I'll leave you to handle the psyker riff-raff."
The two left the room and made their way down a rusty stair, deeper into the bowels of the abandoned factory, the faint, red emergency lighting the only illumination. Water was leaking in through countless cracks and holes, but they were out of the pouring rain, if nothing else.
So bright, the disjointed words of the strange woman's thoughts swam past in Laphas' mind. They seemed distracted. So delectable, so strong. Still bound to the chair, he could not see her anymore, though he presumed she was close, yet dared not open his mind to find out. The Slaver must be blind not to see it. All those ramblings... he wasn't sure anymore; was he or the tongue-woman the mad one here?
You say you need only call out and he will come, the woman's voice sounded disappointed. I haven't said anything, you crazy bitch! Laphas thought angrily, but gritted his teeth and refrained from tapping into the Warp. He wouldn't lead Reitzmann and...his assistant into an ambush. You just keep your thoughts to yourself! he warned.
Such anger, the woman said, almost patronizingly, obviously not intending to keep silent. A flash of emotion. Such forcefulness, she added headily, her thoughts trailing off into the unrecognizable for a moment. Deal with the girl... yes, words fluttered by again, calm you... I will hold you... oh!
Terwohl Laphas decided he had chosen a bad time to play the hero.
"No need to get overconfident," Alheena warned him, keeping both hands on her laspistol. It remained unused. Reitzmann chuckled.
"Don't you agree that these two gangsters put up a poor fight for psykers?" he eyed one of the chest-bound psy-stakes for emphasis, "Even for someone stupid enough to bring a lasgun to a psy-stake fight – no offence intended."
"None taken," Alheena said, her voice betraying a smile her face did not, "They must have been very weak, I suppose?"
"A reasonable assumption," the Inquisitor agreed hesitatingly.
"You disagree?"
"It is... their minds. They felt drained somehow. I think they might have overtaxed their abilities."
"Against Ter... mister Laphas, you believe?"
"Maybe. Just make sure you are on your guard."
"Don't worry," Alheena chuckled, "I'll leave you to handle the psyker riff-raff."
The two left the room and made their way down a rusty stair, deeper into the bowels of the abandoned factory, the faint, red emergency lighting the only illumination. Water was leaking in through countless cracks and holes, but they were out of the pouring rain, if nothing else.
So bright, the disjointed words of the strange woman's thoughts swam past in Laphas' mind. They seemed distracted. So delectable, so strong. Still bound to the chair, he could not see her anymore, though he presumed she was close, yet dared not open his mind to find out. The Slaver must be blind not to see it. All those ramblings... he wasn't sure anymore; was he or the tongue-woman the mad one here?
You say you need only call out and he will come, the woman's voice sounded disappointed. I haven't said anything, you crazy bitch! Laphas thought angrily, but gritted his teeth and refrained from tapping into the Warp. He wouldn't lead Reitzmann and...his assistant into an ambush. You just keep your thoughts to yourself! he warned.
Such anger, the woman said, almost patronizingly, obviously not intending to keep silent. A flash of emotion. Such forcefulness, she added headily, her thoughts trailing off into the unrecognizable for a moment. Deal with the girl... yes, words fluttered by again, calm you... I will hold you... oh!
Terwohl Laphas decided he had chosen a bad time to play the hero.
Friday, 1 May 2009
Egyptian Tales 2
Sheer absentmindedness is to blame for me not having uploaded more of this unfinished story. It's not like it has anything to do but lounge around in my harddrive anyway. For your (marginal) enjoyment, here is some more tales from Egypt. As a sidenote, as everyone knows ibises talk in an over-the-top British accent so stereotypical it's a parody of itself. It's a fact.
Meanwhile, an ibis sailed overhead, fluttering its wings slightly before descending and landing next to another of its kind in the shallow waters of the Nile.
“Say, old bean, not much to brag about in the water department, eh?” the first one remarked.
“Great Scott!” the other exclaimed, opening one eye, “Right you are, old chap!”
“Indeed, fascinating, isn’t it?”
“I’d say!” agreed the other, lifting its leg to find the water level quite insufficient, “Indeed, I might be inclined to call it an outrage.”
“There, there,” the newcomer consoled, not aware of the shape sliding through the shallow water beside them. It had just opened its beak to say “old chap” when a set of huge jaws clenched around it, turning it into crocodile dinner.
“Tut, tut,” the remaining bird mused, “I’d say, that is a bother. I’m off.”
“Teti!” a woman’s voice with a slight shrill to it rang out between the columns, “Teti, dear! There are some people here to see you!”
Turning a column, the woman managed to completely miss the pharaoh appearing from a nearby pillar and hiked up her dress, preparing to storm down the aisle when she looked around suspiciously.
“Teti, dear?” she ventured uncertainly.
“What now?” sighed the pharaoh absently, leaning against a column, a stack of papyrus in his hand, but his mind decidedly elsewhere.
“Teti, my dear, where are you?” the woman whispered unsteadily, yet insistently, moving slowly along a column, warily glancing around.
“What?” the pharaoh exclaimed with exasperation, snapped out of his reverie, “I’m right here, woman!”
“Oh, alright,” the woman said relieved and stopped her sliding to look around, “Where?”
“Great Horus grant me strength,” the pharaoh sighed heavily, “I’m…”
Glancing around the endless rows of columns he finished uncertainly:
“…right… here.”
The woman slid around the column, casting a quick glance behind her before shrieking fearfully, shocking the pharaoh, scattering papyrus everywhere, as she bumped into him.
“Ah, there you are,” the woman smiled after both had the chance to catch their breath and the pharaoh had begun collecting his dispersed load.
“We really should redo all this you know,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and abruptly changing the subject while she scanned the forest of columns around them, “this is getting tiresome.”
“Redo it?!” the pharaoh exclaimed, ceasing his papyrus-collecting, “Are you mad?”
“Just smash them up and get some lovely arches in here,” the woman mused, paying no attention to the pharaoh.
“Do you have any idea how much this cost?” the pharaoh said, getting to his feet, “not to mention the limestone roof! Wouldn’t it be enough if we just… put up a few signs or something?”
“Well, coming to think of it,” the woman said thoughtfully looking up, “I think we could use a few slits up here. Natural lighting, dear.”
“These are granite columns, darling,” the pharaoh pleaded, waving his arm at the nearest column, “they come all they way from Nubia. You said it was the height of fashion in Thebes, remember?”
“Right,” the woman said, ceasing her sweeping gesticulations, biting her lip thoughtfully before concluding with, “Signs. Signs are good.”
“Seneptep!” she called with purpose and started to leave, the pharaoh resuming his pondering.
“Oh, and some peasants are whining on the palace steps, dear,” she added offhandedly.
“Well, I have more important things to worry about,” the pharaoh snapped, tapping his chin in thought.
“Exactly, my dear,” the woman said as she left, “I told them to drink date wine instead.”
“Right,” the pharaoh muttered absently, “Now, what is it?”
Meanwhile, an ibis sailed overhead, fluttering its wings slightly before descending and landing next to another of its kind in the shallow waters of the Nile.
“Say, old bean, not much to brag about in the water department, eh?” the first one remarked.
“Great Scott!” the other exclaimed, opening one eye, “Right you are, old chap!”
“Indeed, fascinating, isn’t it?”
“I’d say!” agreed the other, lifting its leg to find the water level quite insufficient, “Indeed, I might be inclined to call it an outrage.”
“There, there,” the newcomer consoled, not aware of the shape sliding through the shallow water beside them. It had just opened its beak to say “old chap” when a set of huge jaws clenched around it, turning it into crocodile dinner.
“Tut, tut,” the remaining bird mused, “I’d say, that is a bother. I’m off.”
“Teti!” a woman’s voice with a slight shrill to it rang out between the columns, “Teti, dear! There are some people here to see you!”
Turning a column, the woman managed to completely miss the pharaoh appearing from a nearby pillar and hiked up her dress, preparing to storm down the aisle when she looked around suspiciously.
“Teti, dear?” she ventured uncertainly.
“What now?” sighed the pharaoh absently, leaning against a column, a stack of papyrus in his hand, but his mind decidedly elsewhere.
“Teti, my dear, where are you?” the woman whispered unsteadily, yet insistently, moving slowly along a column, warily glancing around.
“What?” the pharaoh exclaimed with exasperation, snapped out of his reverie, “I’m right here, woman!”
“Oh, alright,” the woman said relieved and stopped her sliding to look around, “Where?”
“Great Horus grant me strength,” the pharaoh sighed heavily, “I’m…”
Glancing around the endless rows of columns he finished uncertainly:
“…right… here.”
The woman slid around the column, casting a quick glance behind her before shrieking fearfully, shocking the pharaoh, scattering papyrus everywhere, as she bumped into him.
“Ah, there you are,” the woman smiled after both had the chance to catch their breath and the pharaoh had begun collecting his dispersed load.
“We really should redo all this you know,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and abruptly changing the subject while she scanned the forest of columns around them, “this is getting tiresome.”
“Redo it?!” the pharaoh exclaimed, ceasing his papyrus-collecting, “Are you mad?”
“Just smash them up and get some lovely arches in here,” the woman mused, paying no attention to the pharaoh.
“Do you have any idea how much this cost?” the pharaoh said, getting to his feet, “not to mention the limestone roof! Wouldn’t it be enough if we just… put up a few signs or something?”
“Well, coming to think of it,” the woman said thoughtfully looking up, “I think we could use a few slits up here. Natural lighting, dear.”
“These are granite columns, darling,” the pharaoh pleaded, waving his arm at the nearest column, “they come all they way from Nubia. You said it was the height of fashion in Thebes, remember?”
“Right,” the woman said, ceasing her sweeping gesticulations, biting her lip thoughtfully before concluding with, “Signs. Signs are good.”
“Seneptep!” she called with purpose and started to leave, the pharaoh resuming his pondering.
“Oh, and some peasants are whining on the palace steps, dear,” she added offhandedly.
“Well, I have more important things to worry about,” the pharaoh snapped, tapping his chin in thought.
“Exactly, my dear,” the woman said as she left, “I told them to drink date wine instead.”
“Right,” the pharaoh muttered absently, “Now, what is it?”
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Review: Valkyrie
Everyone makes mistakes and I'm prepared to admit that I misjudged Tom Cruise's recent assassination attempt against Hitler.
Somewhat.
This is, of course, still a Hollywood film. It's no Der Untergang or Das Boot. But it's fortunately not entirely Rambo II, either. In either case, it's a nice change of pace to able to review a decent film for a change. With my two earlier I had been tricked to the cinema, but in this case I intended not to waste my money and so missed the opportunity to see Valkyrie on the big screen. I had to chuckle at the idea of Tom Cruise as count von Stauffenberg, but was intrigued when I later took a closer look at the cast, prompted by a TV documentary on the assassination attempt.
Overcoming the initial disappointment when Trondheim Kino incorrectly billed Stephen Fry (who on EARTH would he play?), the cast list at first glance is a little HBO's Rome meets Pirates of the Caribbean (no, not Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom!*). This I had to see, not least because David Bamber (Cicero) plays Hitler!
All in all, acting is above what I have come to expect in Hollywood movies, but good actors** and a good director helps a long way. Bryan Singer proves that he knows what he's doing by creating a suspenseful story, even if we all know the ending. I'm not easy to please when it comes to thrillers, but this film does the trick in the suspense department. Of course, it's not perfect; sometimes the film takes a few leaps in order to fit a rather complicated story, but I won't complain (too much) since it's not done in order to squeeze in unnecessarily long romantic scenes.
A few artistic licences can be forgiven, though the initial Africa scene was awfully short and ahistorically "heroic" in a way***. Other than that, Valkyrie seems pretty accurate, especially for a Hollywood film.
All in all, I will just say that this is the kind of film Hollywood used to make. You know, before they started churning out retarded superhero and spy crap? Valkyrie is good in a Hollywood kind of way: It's (appropriately) fast paced and cool and that's it. It's good craftsmanship, but not exactly art. It's not a a weird indie film shuffling along in its own brand of artistic madness.
Bryan Singer just got added to my very, very short list of directors I think I can trust with a film.
Also, I guess Tom Cruise got a jot more credibility: Congratulations.
4.5/6
*Here's a hideous thought: Keira Knightley as Nina von Stauffenberg!
**Not necessarily Tom Cruise, but he nevertheless does a good job.
***Stauffenberg was simply blown up while driving in real life. As a sidenote, Bernhard Hill gets far too little screen time.
Somewhat.
This is, of course, still a Hollywood film. It's no Der Untergang or Das Boot. But it's fortunately not entirely Rambo II, either. In either case, it's a nice change of pace to able to review a decent film for a change. With my two earlier I had been tricked to the cinema, but in this case I intended not to waste my money and so missed the opportunity to see Valkyrie on the big screen. I had to chuckle at the idea of Tom Cruise as count von Stauffenberg, but was intrigued when I later took a closer look at the cast, prompted by a TV documentary on the assassination attempt.
Overcoming the initial disappointment when Trondheim Kino incorrectly billed Stephen Fry (who on EARTH would he play?), the cast list at first glance is a little HBO's Rome meets Pirates of the Caribbean (no, not Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom!*). This I had to see, not least because David Bamber (Cicero) plays Hitler!
All in all, acting is above what I have come to expect in Hollywood movies, but good actors** and a good director helps a long way. Bryan Singer proves that he knows what he's doing by creating a suspenseful story, even if we all know the ending. I'm not easy to please when it comes to thrillers, but this film does the trick in the suspense department. Of course, it's not perfect; sometimes the film takes a few leaps in order to fit a rather complicated story, but I won't complain (too much) since it's not done in order to squeeze in unnecessarily long romantic scenes.
A few artistic licences can be forgiven, though the initial Africa scene was awfully short and ahistorically "heroic" in a way***. Other than that, Valkyrie seems pretty accurate, especially for a Hollywood film.
All in all, I will just say that this is the kind of film Hollywood used to make. You know, before they started churning out retarded superhero and spy crap? Valkyrie is good in a Hollywood kind of way: It's (appropriately) fast paced and cool and that's it. It's good craftsmanship, but not exactly art. It's not a a weird indie film shuffling along in its own brand of artistic madness.
Bryan Singer just got added to my very, very short list of directors I think I can trust with a film.
Also, I guess Tom Cruise got a jot more credibility: Congratulations.
4.5/6
*Here's a hideous thought: Keira Knightley as Nina von Stauffenberg!
**Not necessarily Tom Cruise, but he nevertheless does a good job.
***Stauffenberg was simply blown up while driving in real life. As a sidenote, Bernhard Hill gets far too little screen time.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Egyptian Tales
The beginning of a short story that isn't done yet (like, oh, every other story I've ever written?). I know what will happen, just haven't gone around to getting there just yet... So, take a little trip to ancient Egypt.
The land of Egypt; a fertile oasis in the scorching desert, home to great temples and even greater tombs to deceased kings: The greatest buildings in the world, built by its greatest civilization – all made possible by the annual flooding of Egypt’s life-giving artery: The Nile. Each year, the great river would bring new life to the dry lands in the form of water and fertile soil from beyond Nubia. Each year, except this one. This year, the Nile was but a trickle; a drop in a thirsty man’s throat, the parched land around it yearning for denied release. An utter failure of the yearly flood spelled famine and death; the future of the entire kingdom rested on the shoulders of one man…
That man was currently relieving himself in a hole in the ground. In his hands was an unfolded scroll of papyrus, it’s title identifying itself as Ineb Hedj Times, but the man paid it little mind.
What is it? he wondered, mentally scratching his head. The thought had nagged him for some time today and to be honest, he was fed up with it.
“By the Indestructibles, what in Ra’s name is it?” he shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation, but scanning the clear blue sky, the only thing swimming in that great sea was the sun. Weary with all this remembering bother, the Pharaoh rolled together the Ineb Hedj Times and wiped himself.
The land of Egypt; a fertile oasis in the scorching desert, home to great temples and even greater tombs to deceased kings: The greatest buildings in the world, built by its greatest civilization – all made possible by the annual flooding of Egypt’s life-giving artery: The Nile. Each year, the great river would bring new life to the dry lands in the form of water and fertile soil from beyond Nubia. Each year, except this one. This year, the Nile was but a trickle; a drop in a thirsty man’s throat, the parched land around it yearning for denied release. An utter failure of the yearly flood spelled famine and death; the future of the entire kingdom rested on the shoulders of one man…
That man was currently relieving himself in a hole in the ground. In his hands was an unfolded scroll of papyrus, it’s title identifying itself as Ineb Hedj Times, but the man paid it little mind.
What is it? he wondered, mentally scratching his head. The thought had nagged him for some time today and to be honest, he was fed up with it.
“By the Indestructibles, what in Ra’s name is it?” he shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation, but scanning the clear blue sky, the only thing swimming in that great sea was the sun. Weary with all this remembering bother, the Pharaoh rolled together the Ineb Hedj Times and wiped himself.
Friday, 13 February 2009
Witch Hunters Fluff (pt. 16)
The thoughts of Terwohl Laphas was a stream of desperate expletives as every muscle in his body struggled to avoid the mad woman straddling him, his face in her vice-like grip.
There, there, she comforted, forcefully petting his cheek, her other hand firmly about his jaw, pressing his head backwards into the chair he was bound to. All the while, the woman's tongue slithered about his upper body as if it had a life of its own. The woman's hand clenching around him a little tighter, it apparently decided to make its way up his neck, slowly inching its way to his mouth.
Damn! Damn, damn, damn!
Oh yes, came the woman's thoughts as her tongue slid down his throat. It felt chitinous, but smooth as it carefully probed its way down.
I'm not getting out of this one, am I? Thought the more rational part of Laphas' mind. A sudden pain wracked his brain, his body constricting in a violent spasm, pressing into the woman's bony frame.
Yes, you are strong, came the woman's triumphant voice before trailing of into a roiling sea of emotion and hunger.
Nonsense! He forced through the pain. He knew where he was. He would come...
Laphas' body slumped violently as the pain suddenly subsided. He could feel the intruding tongue making a hasty retreat as the woman relinquished her grip on him.
Who do you speak of? She demanded angrily, her multicoloured eyes boring into his own.
What? He thought to himself before realizing that he had let his mind slip during the mind torture.
"No one," he stated with what confidence he could muster, trying to stem the tide of thoughts gushing forth now that the pain had subsided.
Who is this Reitzmann? The woman continued, apparently oblivious to his attempt at subterfuge.
Damn she's good.
He is strong of mind? She said, only halfway a question, your words speak it.
"He is a strong psyker," Laphas admitted, hesitating before adding in his mind: I can bring him to you.
He could feel her psychic tendrils seeping into his mind. Laphas cast about after something harmless to focus his thoughts around. He mentally arched an eyebrow as his thoughts landed on Reitzmann's vicious assistant. It would have to do.
He will come here, the woman stated confidently after a few moments.
And the girl, she added menacingly. He wasn't sure if it should give him goosebumps.
"It would seem our good friend mister Laphas has become one with the Warp," Inquisitor Reitzmann said to the dead end alley, holstering the Auspex in his hands.
"That," he bent over and held up a small metal object, "or he dropped his tracker."
"Or someone took it from him?" Alheena ventured, sarcastically, as she scanned the ground with her flashlight.
"Obviously." the Inquisitor said kindly, nonchalantly looking up and down the wall in front of him.
"He seems to have vanished," he mused, noticing rising hope or possibly dread in his companion, "Unless..."
"What is it?"
"I think we got him." Reitzmann turned promptly and left the alley without another word, Alheena doing her best to keep up with his pace.
There, there, she comforted, forcefully petting his cheek, her other hand firmly about his jaw, pressing his head backwards into the chair he was bound to. All the while, the woman's tongue slithered about his upper body as if it had a life of its own. The woman's hand clenching around him a little tighter, it apparently decided to make its way up his neck, slowly inching its way to his mouth.
Damn! Damn, damn, damn!
Oh yes, came the woman's thoughts as her tongue slid down his throat. It felt chitinous, but smooth as it carefully probed its way down.
I'm not getting out of this one, am I? Thought the more rational part of Laphas' mind. A sudden pain wracked his brain, his body constricting in a violent spasm, pressing into the woman's bony frame.
Yes, you are strong, came the woman's triumphant voice before trailing of into a roiling sea of emotion and hunger.
Nonsense! He forced through the pain. He knew where he was. He would come...
Laphas' body slumped violently as the pain suddenly subsided. He could feel the intruding tongue making a hasty retreat as the woman relinquished her grip on him.
Who do you speak of? She demanded angrily, her multicoloured eyes boring into his own.
What? He thought to himself before realizing that he had let his mind slip during the mind torture.
"No one," he stated with what confidence he could muster, trying to stem the tide of thoughts gushing forth now that the pain had subsided.
Who is this Reitzmann? The woman continued, apparently oblivious to his attempt at subterfuge.
Damn she's good.
He is strong of mind? She said, only halfway a question, your words speak it.
"He is a strong psyker," Laphas admitted, hesitating before adding in his mind: I can bring him to you.
He could feel her psychic tendrils seeping into his mind. Laphas cast about after something harmless to focus his thoughts around. He mentally arched an eyebrow as his thoughts landed on Reitzmann's vicious assistant. It would have to do.
He will come here, the woman stated confidently after a few moments.
And the girl, she added menacingly. He wasn't sure if it should give him goosebumps.
"It would seem our good friend mister Laphas has become one with the Warp," Inquisitor Reitzmann said to the dead end alley, holstering the Auspex in his hands.
"That," he bent over and held up a small metal object, "or he dropped his tracker."
"Or someone took it from him?" Alheena ventured, sarcastically, as she scanned the ground with her flashlight.
"Obviously." the Inquisitor said kindly, nonchalantly looking up and down the wall in front of him.
"He seems to have vanished," he mused, noticing rising hope or possibly dread in his companion, "Unless..."
"What is it?"
"I think we got him." Reitzmann turned promptly and left the alley without another word, Alheena doing her best to keep up with his pace.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Witch Hunters Fluff (pt. 15)
He opened his eyes, but darkness still surrounded Terwohl Laphas. He could try to switch sight, but what if he was being...
Watched?
Damn, he had forgotten to watch his mind.
No matter, the intruder in his head whispered gently, we are all family here. We nned not keep secrets.
His wrists seemed to be locked in handcuffs behind his back. By Terra, he had been careless this time. Well, this time as well. Still, chained in the subterranean lair of some crazy chaos cult; he hadn't been this deep in the Ogryn stew before. And it actually smells kind of like that, too. Wait, his feet were chained as well?
Don't worry, came the voice again, an ethereal hand gently stroking his mind, I will take care of you. I take care of all my lost children. You are safe now, little sparrow. The black ships will not take you from me now.
Well, that was a comforting thought; he had gotten on one willingly and look were it got him! Still, a sparrow? Surely he must be something like an eagle? The voice didn't seem to care about that, however.
They took eleven of them, you know? And now we are all hungry, so hungry..., the voice again trailed off into half-emotion, no-one is strong enough, oh no. Yet, the smell... you..
Now what in the Warp? His reaction was more resignation than surprise. Wait! A door opening? Laphas was blinded by a sudden light, his eyes blinking to make out what was happening. In the brilliance, the naked body of a young woman appeared, angelic in the searing light. She glided slowly towards him and as sight returned to him, he could see a slow, faint pulsation of light beneath skin that hung loosely on her meagre frame. Her silver hair, unkempt and long flew gently behind her, hands spread idly about her body. She slid up to Laphas' face and he caught sight of her eyes; black orbs with pupils of sparkling constellations of purple, silver and fire. The woman's hair enveloped them and she let her long tongue slide over his neck as it struggled to escape the tentacle-like protuberance.
Oh yes, we are so very hungry.
Watched?
Damn, he had forgotten to watch his mind.
No matter, the intruder in his head whispered gently, we are all family here. We nned not keep secrets.
His wrists seemed to be locked in handcuffs behind his back. By Terra, he had been careless this time. Well, this time as well. Still, chained in the subterranean lair of some crazy chaos cult; he hadn't been this deep in the Ogryn stew before. And it actually smells kind of like that, too. Wait, his feet were chained as well?
Don't worry, came the voice again, an ethereal hand gently stroking his mind, I will take care of you. I take care of all my lost children. You are safe now, little sparrow. The black ships will not take you from me now.
Well, that was a comforting thought; he had gotten on one willingly and look were it got him! Still, a sparrow? Surely he must be something like an eagle? The voice didn't seem to care about that, however.
They took eleven of them, you know? And now we are all hungry, so hungry..., the voice again trailed off into half-emotion, no-one is strong enough, oh no. Yet, the smell... you..
Now what in the Warp? His reaction was more resignation than surprise. Wait! A door opening? Laphas was blinded by a sudden light, his eyes blinking to make out what was happening. In the brilliance, the naked body of a young woman appeared, angelic in the searing light. She glided slowly towards him and as sight returned to him, he could see a slow, faint pulsation of light beneath skin that hung loosely on her meagre frame. Her silver hair, unkempt and long flew gently behind her, hands spread idly about her body. She slid up to Laphas' face and he caught sight of her eyes; black orbs with pupils of sparkling constellations of purple, silver and fire. The woman's hair enveloped them and she let her long tongue slide over his neck as it struggled to escape the tentacle-like protuberance.
Oh yes, we are so very hungry.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Tales From Aramantia: New Land part 9
The following morning Lanyrene waked sluggishly, yawning loudly to the carpet-dressed room. She took a sip from one of the many mugs surrounding the bed only to find it empty. Shaking it upside down for a while, she then swung her legs out of the bed and scratched her belly before reaching out for her night gown. Following her hand, she glanced up to her violet and white dress.
Damn seawater, she cursed in her mind. Maybe she should send the dress to her seamstress back on the ship and have it let out.
Wait, what is that incessant mumbling?
Lanyrene slipped into the gown in her hand and wrapped herself in her robe as she made her way to the entrance.
If I catch those proletarians gossiping outside my...
She wouldn't finish the thought before she tore away the canvas and her mind was bewildered into silence. Outside, two natives on their hands and knees were chanting in hushed tones. Between them stood another and in his outstretched hands was a glinting gold necklace inlaid with a huge turquoise, amber and black gem Lanyrene had never seen the like of.
"To... honoured... lady," he struggled, with an accent so heavy it could crush bones.
Lanyrene's eyes sparkled with the gem's image, greed written plainly on her face.
"I..." she began as if she was struggling with the Marean language herself, "I am pleased at your token of affection."
A hint of understanding in the man's eyes went unknown by the now obsessed Marean who hungrily picked up the necklace and held it around her neck.
"Dis calls for, ah, celebration?" Helyna asked, though she probably knew the answer. Lanyrene just turned around and strode back into the tent, her forgotten robe slipping gradually from her shoulders.
"So, I'm guessing de, ah, sailors are not invited?" the Sealander presumed to no-one in particular.
Damn seawater, she cursed in her mind. Maybe she should send the dress to her seamstress back on the ship and have it let out.
Wait, what is that incessant mumbling?
Lanyrene slipped into the gown in her hand and wrapped herself in her robe as she made her way to the entrance.
If I catch those proletarians gossiping outside my...
She wouldn't finish the thought before she tore away the canvas and her mind was bewildered into silence. Outside, two natives on their hands and knees were chanting in hushed tones. Between them stood another and in his outstretched hands was a glinting gold necklace inlaid with a huge turquoise, amber and black gem Lanyrene had never seen the like of.
"To... honoured... lady," he struggled, with an accent so heavy it could crush bones.
Lanyrene's eyes sparkled with the gem's image, greed written plainly on her face.
"I..." she began as if she was struggling with the Marean language herself, "I am pleased at your token of affection."
A hint of understanding in the man's eyes went unknown by the now obsessed Marean who hungrily picked up the necklace and held it around her neck.
"Dis calls for, ah, celebration?" Helyna asked, though she probably knew the answer. Lanyrene just turned around and strode back into the tent, her forgotten robe slipping gradually from her shoulders.
"So, I'm guessing de, ah, sailors are not invited?" the Sealander presumed to no-one in particular.
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