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Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in wit_of_ages' LiveJournal:

Thursday, April 21st, 2005
9:36 pm
A short piece inspired by a dream.
I don't know long it was that I had been seeing her in the cafeteria. It wasn't an odd occurence, many people live in a dormitory. I see plenty of people I don't know, people I can just kind of ignore in my mind. I see girls around this place all the time, no big deal there. Some are pretty, some ugly, you know, real whatever stuff.

Well, I guess I could vary those categories. Pretty could mean any of three things: cute, hot, and beautiful. Cute is the kind of girl that seems just so sweet, so nice. The kind of mind you could really love to get to know. Hot, well, obviously means the kind of girl that evokes a raw hormonal charge from every male within a certain radius. Then there's beautiful, this is the one category that reserved. Beautiful is the girl who you look at and are just mystified by her. Her smile, her manner, her dress, her name....

Beautiful is what I discovered today. It was something like out of a dream. This wonderful girl that I had only seen in the cafeteria up til now, was there. I had always thought of her as cute, I guess. I don't know how to describe it. It's a feeling, not really a sensation. She was shorter than me, but slim. She had short hair, black, and kind of spiky. Y'know, like, in that emo kinda way? Well, she dresses in a emo-ish individual style, but she really doesn't seem to be any less beautiful in her wardrobe.

Well, I digress...

The thing is, I didn't know her name, I was just too shy to ask, I suppose. Today was no different. But today was special. It was later in the evening, when the sunset blasts in through the huge plate windows on the west side of the cafeteria. I wasn't working that night, neither was she, but I was still there near the end of the dinner hours. The tables for the picnicky burger and hot dog dinner. I was lending a hand to my friends workin that night just running some stuff to the front counter and back to the tables. As I was walking back though, I lost myself in my thoughts for a moment and didn't notice the person rounding the large beverage counter. I snapped out of my thoughts just in time to run into the girl. I've alwaysfelt so bad being bigger than most people, but I caught her in one arm as we collided. I stepped outwards and around and looked down to apologize, but as I saw down into her eyes I couldn't utter a word. Before I could react she rose up on her toes and placed a light kiss on my lips, smiled beautifully, and then was off towards the door, leaving me stunned. I could only stand and watch as she left.

I never got her name, but that's alright. I'll probably see her in the next fews weeks before the semester ends.

About a week later, I had not seen her around. It didn't really worry me that much, it's a busy life, you just don't see people sometimes. Well, I was walking down the road next to the cemetary one mildly rainy and very misty day. I huddled myself down deep into my coat to hide from the cold and dampness. Quite a day for thinking back, and the first thought that came to my mind was of that girl. I began to think of that kiss. It was mysterious, ephemeral, and unexpected. I began to wonder where she went. I kept walking along that road, admiring headstones in the mist. I saw shadowy silhouettes in the mist. I had an odd feeling about it, something unsettling. I approached the silhouettes, it looked like a funeral...

The caskett was closed, I didn't know who it was. It was then that I had a sudden sickness in my stomach. Who was in the caskett? I addressed the closest man to me, who is in the caskett? He wouldn't answer, I asked more, no one would answer. The priest spoke of a her. My mind raced, what was her name? Her name!?

I turned from phantom-like funeral. I had to get to the road, I had to get out of here. But her name....I still didn't have her name! I couldn't leave without her name. I turned back, the caskett was being lowered. It was so quiet. I couldn't think...I felt a warm tear run down my cheek. I noticed that people were tossing flwoers into the grave. I felt terrible, I didn't have anything. A flower fell on the ground in front of me, a white carnation. A beautiful flower. I picked it up and brought it to the grave. Standing there soaked, above a grave of someone's whose name I never knew, I dropped the flower in.

I stepped back, allowing people to fill in around the grve for their own mourning, I shed tears for the unknown girl. I turned away from the grave and I felt a hand place itself in mine. It was soothingly warm against the cold. I looked to the owner. A familiar pair of beautiful eyes looked back at me. Tears fell fiercely from my eyes. I couldn't say a thing. She smiled, then left to go to the grave to toss her flowers into the grave. She disappearred into the mass of black of the other mourners, and she was gone.

Before she left I saw the bouquet of flower she was holding...white carnations.

I never got her name.
1:27 am
g
Sunday, April 17th, 2005
2:10 am
Ronin Alchemist sample
Dante Garret, Scott Hartloch, and Barran Somner all sat down in the corner booth of their favorite diner in the village of Hammertone. There were only a few other people in the diner that day and conversations were mundane.
They placed their orders with the young, blonde waitress, complete with Garret’s sickeningly sweet smile. She smiled back and went to the kitchen with their orders.
“Somehow, we always end up back in Hammertone.” Barran sighed.
Scott slumped deeper in his seat and crossed his arms with a snort, “Well, that’s because it’s the only town that doesn’t know about us.”
Right then, they heard the man in the next booth lsugh and mutter, “Those damned Ronin Alchemists, either they’re very brave or very stupid.”
The trio exchanged surprised glances and leaned slowly towards the man to hear better. Dante turned and flopped down on the divider between the booths.
“Ronin Alchemists? Who are they?”
The man looked surprised, then held up the newspaper. The headline proclaimed,
“Ronin Alchemists unsuccessful again.”
Dante frowned at the headline, and read on.
“Infamous alchemists fail State Alchemist Exam for second year in a row.”
Scott now leaned onto the table,
“Hey now, what do you know about these Ronins?”
The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked at the ceiling, “Well, I heard every joke about them, like ‘The only thing bigger than their failures is their egos.’ I like that one.”
Scott’s face melted into an annoyed look, “No, information like what they look like?”
“No, sir, I can’t say I’ve ever seen what they look like.”
Dante sat back, “Oh, alright, sorry to have bothered you.”
They all sat back and expelled sighs of relief.
The waitress came back out with the food and delivered it, but she didn’t leave quite immediately.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked Dante.
“I…don’t believe so.” said Dante.
She looked like she was trying to remember Dante’s face for a moment then her eyes sparked with recognition. She gave an excited shriek.
“Now I know! You’re Dante Garret, the Ronin Alchemist! I’ve seen your face on wanted posters!”
Dante’s eyes were as wide as saucers, Barran looked utterly frustrated, and Scott could only mutter a stifled, “Eep.”
“You must have me confused with someone else, my name’s…uh…”
He looked around the room very quickly.
“Rice. Uh…Rice Spoonly. Yeah. That’s it.”
She didn’t seem to hear a single word of it. She was jumping and shouting for everyone to come see the alchemists. People looked up with a mix of amusement, skepticism, and concern. Dante saw a man dash out of the diner.
“Alright, guys, time to fly.”
The Ronins hopped out of their seats and dashed for the door before the police arrived. As they left Dante looked back at the waitress. She was in tears, her heroes were abandoning her in her life of mediocrity. He felt wrong, like he should stay. He shook his head and jumped out the door.
1:49 am
A bit of fantasy.
Crimson opened his eyes and lifted himself up painfully off of the hard stone floor. He ached severely from the beating the guards gave him, and even more from getting tossed into the cell. He remembered why it wasn't a good idea to try to pick the pocket of the Captain of the Guard in Sprohm. The city with biggest prison in the world, and a city just too eager to fill it. He ran his hand through his blaze red hair and his elven features to make sure everything was still there. He still had on his dark red overcoat and had everything but his knife and his tool kit. It was going to be hard to pick the lock on the cell without it.

He brought his attention up to his comrades, they had already recovered and were watching him angrily. They must have received less severe beatings, then again, he had insulted the guards after taken prisoner. His two elven friends, Rurik the Mage and Elthis Songspinner were nursing their own wounds and Rego the hulking barbarian sat casually on the floor seemingly unphased by the welts on his own being. He looked around, something was amiss. Setha wasn't here, they msut have put her in a different cell. Great, more to fix...

"Good morning, sunshine," Elthis said sharply and angrily, "It's about time you moved."

Crimson glared up at him, "I didn't see you helping me any."

"We helped you enough by going to prison with you."

Crimson scowled and stood up. He felt dizzy, but he regained his equilibrium enough to look around. They were on the top floor of Sprohm's Dungeon. For minor offenders, it was, the bottom hundred floors were for increasingly worse offenders. Rurik sat quietly in the corner, peacefully meditating. That was good, hopefully he'd come up with some good spells for blowing down prison doors.

"They took my picks, I can't get the door open." Crimson admitted. A silence took the room. Each member of their party deep in thought. Elthis' eyes lit with a spark of an idea.

"I know what we can do!" He said excitedly. He turned quickly to Crimson and slugged him across the face. Crimson reeled back in surprise and pain, but anger took his features and he swung at Elthis connecting in his cheek.. Elthis grappled with Crimson and the two struggled against each other fiercely. A heavily armored Sprohman guard came to the cell door.

"Knock it off in there, or I'll have to get rough with the both of ya," the irate guard demanded. A slight smile came to Rurik's face and he thrust up his hand, palm outward towards the iron bars. The door blasted off of its hinges and slammed the guard into the guard rail in the center of the prison floor. The guard was knocked unconscious.

Elthis released Crimson and beamed at the sight. "I knew it would work!"

Crimson eyed him suspiciously, "How did you know Rurik could do that?"

"It's something between us mages."

Rego was already on his feet and on his way to the guard as they talked. Crimson kept watch for any mor eguards, there wouldn't be many around. You didn't need too many guards for minor offenders. Rego lifted the bars off of the slumped guard and shifted him into a position better suited to remove his armor and use it as a disguise. Elthis looked nervously down the hundred story pit in the center of the deep underground prison. There were a hundred more floors of cells and each platform was circular. It was essentially a giant inverted screw working its way down into the earth.

"Alright, first things first, we need our equipment, and we need to get Setha. We need to split up, time is of the essence and what not. Rurik and I will get our equipment upstairs. Rego, use your disguise to take Crimson as a prisoner to get Setha, then meet us upstairs." Elthis said.

Rego took some manacles and placed them unlocked around Crimson's wrists. He began to drag him down the sloping spiral incline as Rurik and Elithis darted towards the stairs to find a way to get their gear.

Crimson didn't like the fact that he needed to be dragged, but mercy on the part of a guard would definitely give them away here in Sprohm.

Several minutes of careful watching revealed a small cell several floors below that contained only one prisoner. Rego took the keys off of the armor disguise and unlocked the gate. The hunched form inside looked up saddly, but one look at the red clad prisoner and the oddly armored guard lit her face up.

"I knew you'd come soon," she said.

"We wouldn't leave you here for one minute longer than necesary," Crimson said glibly, even as he was lying on the dirty walkway.

"We don't have much time," Rego put bluntly. He removed a second pair of manacles from his belt and put them around her wrists, he led them several steps up the path when Crimson stopped dead, thinking.

"What are you thinking of?" said Setha, her elven features softened by the human blood mixed in her. Her worn earth-tone clothing and tattered brown cloak matched the soft brown of her caring eyes and her long hair.

Crimson's face took on a mischeivous look. "I know how to make the best distraction possible. We need to get to the bottom of this prison, fast."

Rego glanced upwards, "The way out is that way, not down."

Crimson glared at the barbarian and shook his head. He took Setha's hand and ran off down the path. Rego casually loped up behind them, his strides much longer. It took them a considerable amount of time to get to the bottom, kncoking out guards along the way. The lights grew more scarce and the prisoners more dangerous as they grew nearer to the bottom floor. The worst of the worst were down here, a veritable army of evil. At last, the lights had become distant and their path grew into darkness. They had reached the bottom floor, the pit. The one place where only the evillest of beings went. Offenders so bad that eternal imprisonment a mile beneath the surface was the only option for the law to take. Crimson looked hard into the deep darkness where he could barely see, even with his elven senses. Rego an back up the path to grab a torch and returned to illuminate the pit. The pit was ten feet below the end of the stairs. They jumped down into the pit, old dust rose from their feet. Their noses clogged with the stench of rot, mildew, mold, and dust. There were thirteen doors arranged in a circle around the pit. Setha shivered unconsciusly, "Crimson, I really don't know about this. Nothing feels right down here."

"Don't worry, Setha. If we release even one of these guys then we can get out of here as Sprohm fights him."

Crimson tried to peer into several of the cells, and could only see shadows and dark forms. One room, however, he couldn't see anything. Pure darkness.

"Rego, we need to open this one."

The two looked over the dorr for a means to open it, and could only see what could only be an archaic lock. Rego lined up a strong kick and smashed the lock. The door shuddered. Crimson took one of the thin wiry pieces that fell out of the lock and worked it in between the door and the frame. It slid in and he was able to lever the door open. The room was pitch black and not even the light from the torch made its way in. Crimson walked silently into the room and could be heard groping the walls inside, after a few minutes he came back out with a large rectangular, ominous looking case. They laid the case on the ground and pored over how to open it. It was solid black onyx with a seam, but no visible latches or handles. It was about four feet long and two wide.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Setha whispered.

Crimson glanced at her and went back to prodding the case with the wire. He tried to slide it into the seam. It wouldn't go. His frustration and anger grew at a lock tbat wouldn't give way to him. As soon as he felt that bit of rage, the case flew open, nearly hitting him in the face. Inside, lying in red velvet folds, was a menacing longsword with a black metal handle and a dark and flat-luster steel blade covered in runes and frightening looking barbs. Setha nearly fell back, wanting to get away from it. Rego's eyes showed surprise and shock that was uncharacterful for the barbarian, but Crimson smiled greatly at his victory. He grabbed up the sword and he felt a great power flowing from it to him. Voices whispered to him from it, telling him to go to another cell. He followed its instructions slwoly, but surely. Setha and Rego watching in horror as he cut the door to the cell off with one stroke of that cursed blade.

In the cell, easily illuminated by the torch was a man in the center, chained to the walls by rune-covered chains, the walls themselves covered in arcane circles of binding. The man hung limp, only the chains holding him up by his wrists. His head hung forward, long black hair cascading down. His physique was strong and looked nothing like a man who had been hanging for many years should. Crimson listened to the voices, seemingly not felling his own actions. The sword flew, cutting the chains and freeing the man. Instead of falling to the floor the man stood straight up, standing to his full height. His dark, angry eyes stared into the now frightened eyes of Crimson.

He held out his hand, "The sword." Crimson felt himself give him the sword, unable to stop himself. Setha cried out for him not to, but it was no use. The man grasped the handle and looked at the blade reverently.

"I thank you for freeing me, I will reward you with a quick death." Crimson turned to run, but a dark power froze his body. He was unable to even scream as he felt his vitality drained from him. His withered corpse fell. Setha screamed and Rego ran out to protect Setha, only to be skewerd casually by the dark blade. He dropped dead to the floor. Setha tried to curl up in the corner and hide. The man lifted her up with magic and looked into her eyes, his eyes were amazingly entrancing, "Go, young one, tell what you've seen here, and tell the world to fear the Shadowbender once more."

Then he was gone in a plume of black smoke. Setha curled back up into a ball in that pit of despair and death, and cried.
Friday, February 4th, 2005
11:24 pm
The Techno-Exorcist
Ghosts exist.

Or at least, that's what I tell them.

I am a bringer of light to the shadow of the computer mystery. I am like Constantine, like that new movie with Keanu Reeves, thats going to suck, except I am not Keanu Reeves and I am most defnitely cooler. Even though I can't have twenty minute long fight scenes against thousands of Agent Smiths, but one day I will get my chance.

Computers can be possessed. I have seen the mouse move of its own voliton as if God himself is trying to locate secret porn folders. That pervert. I have seen corrupted masses of data and maddening and vile faulty wiring. Things will cease to work at that certain time. The ghosts will eat your digital world. They will eat your computers digital soul...

Until I came.

The ghosts now tremble before my almighty techno-divinity. The ghosts are banished at a mere thought from me. Call it magic, call it power, call it anythign you want, but remember...when the ghosts come for you, call me.
Monday, January 24th, 2005
12:34 am
Back in the (S)USSR
My schedule is firmly shitty this semester. Why do all my classes have to come with two side orders of wasting my time? Bullshit, severely. Anyway, anyone who has read my journal before is probably expecting some witty story. Let's try to please the masses, eh?

This is a story about a tragic hero. He has a tragic, tragic flaw. He's a dick. If you haven't ever heard any of my stoies before, then I'll just say that my main protagonist is always me. So in a word, I have just called myself a dick, and if need be I will upgrade that to an asshole. Unfortunately the story here is not so much as a single forgiveable circumstance, but a life long pattern of being a pansy when faced with certain "do or die" situations. This one is called:

What the God Damned Fuck?
Its a point of comedy. Every old school show has it, and you see it everywhere on contemporary tv. Teenage dramas always have the comic air of one man not having any semblance of social grace (or motor coordination sometimes) around a woman. Now, this is misleading because it is not just any woman to said man. It is more often than not some woman that has caught his eye, mind, heart, liver, spleen, or whatever vital organ being used that day. Other women, such as friends, do not evoke the same dumbass response from said man. This being said, so you the reader can understand how this tragedy is not only cliche and repetitive, but will probably be intensely boring...

This brings me to...well, me. As a defined contrast to the forthcoming tale, I will mention a few things. I am no pushover when it comes to courage or fortitude. Ask my friends the effects of giving me a paintball gun and pointing at an enemy, the result is not pretty and will only end with me or my enemies drenched in paint. Highlights of my fights are glorious and memorable. I stand at the top of a rocky, muddy hill the only thing between me and a very shooty foe is a small bush. I move to hop down and eradicate my foe when I slip and slam to a halt five feet below. My gun parted from my grasp, I can only watch in horror as my foe comes to finish the job. I grab the gun off the ground and fire a single shot at the cautious, yet careless fool, hitting him square in the torso. Alas, he managed to gun me on the ground, but he was dead as well. There are many more accounted tales of heroism on the paintball field or jumping off of thirty foot trees to rush down a zipline or going upside-down down a forty foot rappelling wall.

This may seem like rambling, and I assure you it is, but it is rambling that all has a point. This brings me to the true point. You'd think that someone with that kind ot grit would be able to say more than a muffled "Hi" to a woman in the situation mentioned a couple paragraphs up, but no! he manages to fuck it all up. So here it is, {"Hi, Collin." (smile)} ["Uh...hi." (nervous blink)] {(leaves)} ["What the God Damned Fuck!!!! Hi!? That's all I could say!?"]

Yes, Collin, the world agrees...
What the God Damned Fuck.

Current Mood: are you fucking kidding me
Wednesday, December 15th, 2004
1:23 am
Breadfan
This is actually supposed to be for the fourteenth, but I'm slow and lazy.
I have a story to tell now. I call it Robin Bread and the Theft of Brockway Cafeteria.
Collin sat at his computer searching through his megabytes of legit pictures (yeah, right) and out of the blue there came a great rumbling.
"Ryan! What did I say about slaughtering live animals in the Common Room!" He yelled.
Then he realized Ryan wasn't home. He must be out playing volleyball with *shudder* people again, he thought grotesquely. Then he heard the rumbling again. The rumbling...came...from him!
"Oh no! My internal organs are rebelling!" He panicked.
"Calm down," said Pete, the level-headed roomate, "You are just hungry that's all. Go get some food."
Collin pondered this.
"Food, eh?"
His mind reeled at the possibilities. Food. In, my stomach? He looked down at that argumentative organ.
"I'll put food in you, no matter what."
He went over to his refrigerator and opened it. There was a single jar of peanut butter in it.
"Is this food, Pete?"
"Yes," said Pete, the level-headed roomate, "But you need to put it on bread."
"Bread, at any cost." Collin muttered.

Several minutes later, Collin was at Brockway Cafeteria. He was looking at all the choices available, there was white and wheat, marbled and pumpernickel. It was a bread paradise. How do I get it out? he wondered. Then he realized the Cafeteria Manager, Baron Baldpate von Stickybuns was suspiciusly eyeing him from the other side of Brockway. Collin returned the malignant gaze with a rebellious nose wiggle, grabbed a loaf of white bread and ran. The Baron shook his fist in defense, but it was to no avail.

The bread was mine, and I would eat.

Current Mood: Breaded
Monday, December 13th, 2004
8:10 pm
A new beginning...
I have a new journal now. Yay, now what do I do...?
I've never kept a journal before.
Never.
Not ever.
Well, maybe once.
Nope, wrong memory.
That was a secret cookbook.
Or was it?
No, it was a script for my upvoming Cit-ed Conference Intro Video.
But that was recently wasn't it?
It was.
So what did I write back then?
Meh, probably crap.
But I ramble.
Always.
Just ask people, they'll agree.
That I ramble, that is.
Yeah.
Just like that.

Anyway, I'm just finishing up reading a book.
So leave me alone.
I'll send more later.
Stop crying...
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