From slightly before dusk till slightly after dawn - Part Two

Happy E3 all my fellow gamers! Feast upon the glorious trove of delicious trailers, gorge on the hype! Before we return to our story, I’ll quickly go over a quick list of things I’m squealing like a child on Christmas about:

-          -New Doom

-         -The Last Guardian lives

-        - Final Fantasy VII Remake (mixed feelings of terror and euphoria)

-          Dishonored 2

-          Uncharted 4

-          Metal Gear 5

-          There are turning out to be way too many things to list

Needless to say things are finally looking up with such a bountiful harvest of games on the horizon. As I recall, however, I think we were in the middle of something.

Part 2

                “Scimitars are such bad-guy weapons.” Fenwick said, flipping through the pages of his spell-book. “You never see a nice guy with a scimitar, just saying.” The four adventurers, now no longer enjoying a nice rest at a tavern, faced a group of (scimitar wielding) skeletons. The nearest of the rattling fiends stepped into scimitar-ing range of Kinanar. If the skeleton could have raised an eyebrow it would have, lacking the capacity to do so it raised its notched blade into the air and took a swing at the strangely calm Paladin. The scimitar bit into the steel plate, the dwarf did not budge. The blade clattered off, leaving a scratch on the plate – nothing more.

                “My turn.” Kinanar said, his war-hammer whistled through the air and crashed into the skull of the skeleton. The dusty bone disintegrated under the weight of the blow – the rest of the skeleton’s body cartwheeled to the left and landed in a noisy pile of armor and bones. Kinanar smiled in satisfaction.

                “Really?” Chest said from across the room. The Halfling had somehow managed to make his way around the entire group of skeletons without being noticed. He now stood behind the farthest away of their enemies, his daggers were in his hands – it had been too late for his target long ago. The skeleton’s chest exploded as two small hands holding daggers exploded through it, the rest of the fiend toppled to the ground. “My turn?” Chest slid his daggers back into his hand, he reached to a nearby tower and seized the nearest tankard – he took a cautionary sniff but took a deep drink. “You talk like someone is following you around recording everything you say.” Kinanar grumbled and definitely did not blush. “Has Scrambles…oh wait nevermind he’s working on it already.” Chest dropped into the nearest seat, content to let his friends finish off the remaining enemies.

                “My skinless friend – it need not be this way.” The huge man had his arms wrapped around another of the skeletons. The demon struggled weakly in the gigantic man’s grasp – its scimitar pressed firmly to its side by the man’s arms. “Shhhhhhhh.” The big man whispered.

                “Someone should really take care of the other guy.” Chest said. “Hey Trailmix, that’s you.” Fenwick’s mouth dropped open.

                “Did you seriously just call me Trailmix?” The elf said, aghast. Chest shrugged and continued nursing his new drink. Fenwick shouted in an arcane language, three bolts of light shrieked across the room. The final skeleton paused, looked at the glowing lights slowly approaching it, and did its best to sigh. The bolts connected, the skeleton exploded into bits of ash and charred bone. “Next time you’re hungry you can find your own snacks.” Fenwick murmured, annoyed.

                “I’m trying to watch this if you don’t mind.” Kinanar said, the dwarf had pulled a chair from nearby and sat watching Scrambles attempt to calm the wriggling skeleton. “I could watch this all day, I don’t know how he does it.” The skeleton’s thrashing had become less dramatic, less panicked. Scrambles continually whispered soft words into where the skeleton’s ear would be…if it had ears…and was alive. The rusty scimitar it held dropped to the ground, it stopped fighting altogether. Scrambles lifted his head out of the crook of the skeleton’s neck and shoulder, his eyes pooling with moisture.

                “That’s right.” Scrambles said. “Suffer no more.” The skeleton’s head bowed forward.

                “How does that even work on a skeleton?” Kinanar said, not hiding his awe. The skeleton was completely still, having found some sort of peace in the scarred arms of Scrambles. In a flash, the arms flexed and pulled inward – the skeleton exploded in a gout of dust and vicious crunching. Scrambles made no loud boasts, his eyes were far away – twin trails of tears carving valleys through the dust on his face. Chest, meanwhile, he stepped out of his chair – moving toward the still ajar doors of the tavern, someone had to close them after all.  “Wait.” Kinanar said, Chest stopped – he could hear it too.

                “Seriously?” Fenwick sighed. “Do skeletons actually kill people?” He glanced around the room at the terrified bar patrons. “Oh right, normal people – they kill you guys sometimes.” He took a step toward the door, his keen ears picking up the sound of metal armor, and the smell of heat was on the air. “These are different.” Chest was no longer at the door, in fact he was no longer in sight at all. Kinanar stood up from his chair and swung his war-hammer back into his hands. Scrambles was still recovering from his latest emotional encounter, his big hands wiping away the dust covering his face.

                Four more skeletons entered the bar, the adventurers groaned. These were not your garden variety, throw 500 at them, garbage type skeleton. These were different, the air around them bent and shifted as if a great heat radiated from their bones. Armor hid most of their rattling bones, it too seemed as though it would be hot to the touch. They held long wicked blades that dragged on the ground, cutting ruts into the wooden floor of the tavern. Kinanar frowned.

                “Everyone stay down, once we clear these out we need to get those doors closed as soon as possible.” Kinanar said, he felt something stir outside in the tenebrous dark. The first skeleton was already on him. “Faster than your friends?” Kinanar said, still holding his ground.” The skeleton did not hesitate, its blade flashed through the air. Noticing the strength behind his opponent’s blow, Kinanar attempted to step out of the way – but too late. The sword sliced through his armor, and bit into the skin beneath. Kinanar grimaced, only a flesh would – but the first blood their new attackers had spilled nonetheless.

From slightly before dusk till slightly after dawn - Part One

Greetings once more everyone. It has been a while, but this time I actually have an excuse! Firstly, I got married to the most wonderful woman in the world, and secondly I have finally finished the first draft of my first full-length novel! I will of course be showering the world with details as the project progresses - but there is still much to do before I can even begin seeking a home for it. It has been an amazing few weeks to say the least.

Now, as we all know - weddings entail things like bachelor parties. Bachelor parties have always been a strange thing to me. My alcohol tolerance is that of a 13 year old girl, and I'm what you could call "indoorsy."  Enter the world's nerdiest bachelor party (I'm sure there is nerdier out there no doubt). I have wanted to play Dungeons and Dragons for...well almost my entire life. My various groups of friends growing up weren't into that sort of thing - so the whole D&D world passed me by.

When it came time to plan my party, that was the first and best choice that popped into my head - let's play some damned D&D (well technically we played Pathfinder, but close enough). Instead of rambling on and on about the rules of the game, all the various dice rolls, and the boring bits - I'm going to attempt to hammer our short campaign into a story. Strap on those goofy ass sport goggle-glasses things, get out those pocket protectors, and push those glasses up on the bridge of your nose - it's D&D story time.

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The tavern was...well...a tavern. The four companions were tired, and the dwarf had been ceaselessly complaining about the lack of alcohol in the vampire's castle - though he did seem to cheer up at the sound of glasses clinking and boisterous conversation.

"I need a drink." Kinanar said. The Dwarf was kitted head to toe in armor bearing all of the embellishments of a talented Dwarven blacksmith. Strapped to his back was a less than pristine war-hammer, he would get around to cleaning off all of the gooey vampire blood and skeleton bits once he got his hands on some ale. Walking next to him, a halfling held up both of his hands - all ten fingers extended.

"Ten times." Chest said. Chest Rockwell was a halfling, but no regular halfling. Whereas most of his folk preferred to spend their time relaxing and generally keeping to themselves, Chest could not resist the call of the open road. "You've said that ten times since we started walking toward the tavern." Chest swirled his black cloak dramatically and trudged ahead, the daggers strapped to his waist flashed in the moonlight. Kinanar grumbled something under his breath and continued walking.

"I've got some....water!" Fenwick shouted from behind them, their Elven companion and spell-caster  of the group said attempting to help. "Oh, berries! I've got sooo many berries." Elves like nature. No one answered him, the tavern was closing in. Fenwick shrugged and dug into his stash of nature-candy. After gobbling down a handful or two, Fenwick turned to see the last member of their strange group down on his knees. "Wait!" Fenwick called to the two walking ahead.

"Oh Gods not this again." Kinanar said. The final member of their group stood nearly seven feet tall. A mane of wild fire-red hair covered his head. A thick cloak of wolf fur cascaded down his back, partially obscuring the hilariously large bastard sword he carried on his back - yet the man knelt on the ground, the palms of his scarred hands pressed into his eyes - the sound of light sobbing could be heard. "What is it now big guy?" The man, known as Scrambles the Death-Dealer, looked up - his mouth quivered, his eyes puffy and red.

"Oh don't let him start we're almost ther....." Chest attempted, but was cut off. He groaned audibly.

"I feel an endless ocean of pain," the big man said, he gestured to the ground - there lay a dead rabbit, "a boundless sea of solitude, to be alone in death is to be alone in eternity." The big man doubled over, wracked by another bout of sobbing. "If I had been here, I could have helped its passing!" He cried out to the stars above, shaking fists at the sky as if to defy the Gods above him. Scrambles...well...Scrambles was different - though his prowess in battle could not be ignored, no matter how strange his techniques. Fenwick leaned down next to the giant of a man.

"Would some berries help?" Elves like nature. Scrambles looked to his comrade, giant glassy eyes blinking rapidly.

"Yes, perhaps the bounty the poor beast fed upon will give me strength to continue." Scrambles accepted a handful of berries, eating all but two - these he placed on the tiny rabbit's eyes, like some sort of rabbit currency for the rabbit guard of the rabbit river of Styx.

"I'M GOING INSIDE NOW!" Chest called from the door of the tavern impatiently. Kinanar half-ran half-skipped to the door - his mouth watering at the thought of a cold beverage. Fenwick and Scrambles followed suit.

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The tavern was sparsely populated, though there were a few customers lounging around the bar and at some of the tables scattered about the establishment. A rip-roaring drunk of a man stumbled about the room, attempting to find a group to attach himself to for the evening - he did not seem to be having any luck. The music floating from the lute of the bard sitting not far from the door stopped at the four companions entrance, a look of genuine interest appearing on his face.

"Adventurers! Finally!" He swung his lute around so that it rested on his back, he extended a hand and vigorously shook each of the member's hands, Scrambles smiled down at him benevolently. "I was beginning to run out of material," he eyed the companions up and down, noticing the state of their gear he assumed battle was something they commonly faced, "and here you stand, flush from another conflict! Please, tell me what happened!"

An awkward silence filled the tavern, the four looked back and forth at each other and shrugged.

"I killed at least thirty undead." Kinanar said nonchalantly, as if it were just a normal day.

"Skeletons?!" The bard asked, furiously putting quill to parchment.

"Definitely, mopped up about 10 of those." Kinanar said, glaring at his companions, daring them to correct him. "Bunch of zombies, oh and four vampires...nothing too serious for a," he cleared his throat dramatically, "for a...Paladin!" The bard continued to scribble, enraptured by the tale. Chest rolled his eyes. Kinanar opened his mouth to continue, but the bard moved down the line - looking up at Fenwick with excitement in his eyes.

"How about you?" The bard said, dipping his quill in a portable bottle of ink. "What monstrosities did you face?"

"I..." Fenwick struggled for an answer, "...vaporized...an entire legion of undead thralls!" The bard gaped.

"A legion??" He scribbled furiously. "Amazing!" Kinanar scrunched his mouth in disapproval, though it was hard to tell underneath the beard. The bard scooted down the line to Chest, who was attempting to squeeze out of the interaction and head toward the bar. The bard stopped him short with a hand on the shoulder. "I'm sure you have a great thirst to quench after your latest adventure," the bard continued, "but please I beg you, just a few more details and I'll have a song worthy of your adventure...and possibly some coin!" Chest turned around and eyed the bard with no small amount of annoyance. The halfling whipped out his two daggers faster than any of the crew could see and spun them in flashing circles around his fingers. The bard stopped talking, his mouth hung open - the spinning stopped, and with a flick of his wrists Chest sent both daggers shrieking across the tavern. They struck an empty wooden tankard placed on an unoccupied table, ripped it from its place and pinned it to the wall. The bar silenced for a brief second, a few people clapped, and chatter resumed. Chest pushed passed the bard to retrieve his daggers, the bard was too busy writing to stop him this time. He looked up from his parchment and moved to Scrambles.

"You have the look of a great warrior about you, how about yourself?" The bard asked, prepared to write as always. Scrambles' eyes took on a glassy look, as though he were peering inward. Kinanar and Fenwick sighed - they left the two and joined Chest at a table. Scrambles' lips pressed together in a tight white line, as though the words held within caused him unspeakable pain.

"So many required my help." He said finally, his big eyes watering up once more. "They were lucky to receive my embrace, to guide them to the final rest." The bard cocked an eyebrow in confusion, then saw the man's arms. Unlike his pristine sword (it looked barely used actually), his arms were knotted with scars, fresh cuts, scabs, and even wounds that looked like bite marks.

"When you say embrace..." the bard said, "...you mean your actual embrace, as in you hugged them?" Scrambles bobbed his head in a sullen nod, though a smile played at his lips.

"Everything, be it monster, man, demon, or demi-god should not face the long journey without a warm embrace." Scrambles wiped at his eyes and smiled brightly. The bard, though a little more than confused, scribbled on his parchment a bit more before returning his quill to his small pack.

"What a tale!" The bard allowed himself a grin. "A round of drinks on me for my new friends!" He called over the the barkeep, she was currently tending to a small child that skipped around behind the bar singing. She looked up and nodded - lining up five glasses and filling them with ale. The bard and Scrambles joined the rest of the group at the rickety wooden table, the bar patron brought over their beverages. Everyone seized a tankard, the bard raised his into the air -  "To adventure!" The rest of the company did not echo his cheer, the bard guzzled his ale - the group eyed him strangely. Kinanar felt a tickle in his mind. Do you think he's going to sit here the whole time? It was Fenwick, Kinanar scrunched his eyebrows together and thought back to the Elf. Is this really the time for magic? Fenwick shrugged from across the table, just curious, something doesn't feel rig-

The bard made a wet choking noise, his hand grabbed the center of his tunic - pulling at the strings keeping it tight. His skin turned from a healthy tan to a ghastly white, he stumbled heavily into the table, righted himself for a moment, and then collapsed to the ground. Kinanar jumped out of his seat, the Dwarf began to move to the Bard but was stopped by the shout of a woman they had not noticed. Judging from her attire she was a Cleric, she approached the fallen bard quickly - her eyes full of concern.

"Get back!" She cried, Kinanar stopped his approach. The bar was quiet, everyone watched - and then the door rocked against its hinges loudly. The four companions looked up.

"Don't like the sound of that." Chest said, wiping ale from his mouth as he got out of his seat. As if in answer to the halfling, the door burst inward. From the darkness came the sound of dry rattling and steel meeting steel in a strange jagged rhythm. Not human steps. Kinanar thought to himself. Four skeletons entered the tavern, the eyeless sockets scanning the room - rusty notched blades in-hand. 

The tavern erupted into chaos, patrons clambered to the back of the building - the barkeep and her progeny ducked behind the bar. The lead skeleton locked his empty gaze on the table of four and let out a dry shriek - his companions echoed it and began moving toward them.

"I'm not finished drinking yet." Kinanar said. He snatched his tankard off the table and guzzled what was left. Ale flowed around the lip of the cup and doused his beard, foam covered the tip of his nose. He let out a contented sigh. "Alright," he let out an un-Paladinlike belch and stood once more. He snagged the haft of his warhammer and flipped it into his hands, he kicked his chair out of the way and eyed the skeletons. "You know we just got done turning a whole castle of you lot into dust." The skeletons seemed unimpressed.

Chest already had his daggers out and had circled around the room quietly, now waiting off to the side of the group of skeletons. Scrambles looked up, pity filled his eyes.

"Do not fear my friends," Scrambles bellowed to the skeletons, "I will release you from your undeath and guide you to endless fields of green!" Fenwick moved a few steps behind his companions, spell-book already in hand.

"Just don't-" Fenwick started.

"Right, we know," Kinanar said, he mimed his best Elf voice, "don't let you get stabbed." The Dwarf laughed.

"Hey." Fenwick barked. "I'm basically wearing a dress here, want to trade armor?" Kinanar did his best to pretend he did not hear him. 

The skeletons closed in.