AnimeCrazy.net Forums - The True Anime Streaming Community - Blogs - Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/ Here you can find all the latest anime streamed and have not only the option to download them, but also the option to talk about them. en Sun, 22 Nov 2009 09:23:41 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/simp_skin/misc/rss.jpg AnimeCrazy.net Forums - The True Anime Streaming Community - Blogs - Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/ Ghouls http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/4416-ghouls.html Thu, 25 Jun 2009 00:22:27 GMT I walked along the darkened hall, listening to the cracks along the wall. And upon the paned glass windows, the rain splashed like tears of widows.... I walked along the darkened hall, listening to the cracks along the wall.
And upon the paned glass windows, the rain splashed like tears of widows.
And from this chaotic symphony of violent sound, the ghosts and ghouls seeped unbound.
With shadows from starless darkened night, the moonlight fled absorbed in fright.

The ghouls they slovenly creped, up to my door which began to creek
and against my will I made a peep, and that innocent glance caused a shriek:
“darkness be gone for you don’t need me, my mind shall not appease thee,
and let these shadows be purged from my mind, let these ghouls another find”

But the ghouls ignored my desperate pleas, showing not a care or sign of sympathy.
Questing for my glistening light of lives, with long jagged talons as sharp as a knives,
They are ready to tear the life from my chest, and drag me screaming to their nest.
And on this corrupted night the only sign, was that I was destined to pay my fine.

And the claws of these creatures most fowl, were inching closer readying to butcher me like a cow.
Terror plagued my eyes gaped wide, as with each moment ghouls crept closer to my side.
And the unseen bearer of these shadows which were creeping, across my world with ghouls who were seeping,
seeping through the cracks into the room in which I lay, and I no longer was left with the strength to pray.

Years filled with evil laden heeds, for wickedness wrought and tempted deeds;
and endeavors taken with no good measures, I had undertook for only selfish pleasures.
Now hell was set on claiming their twisted kind, and the only thing left to do was find
my wretched form curled up in the confines of my bed, and once that was done I would join the dead.

For heavens light had readily fled me, as I had cursed myself into scorning salvations key
that even one act of benevolent empathy, would have been enough to grant me an angel’s sympathy.
And now to those ghouls and demons I began to beg, as I felt them slowly creep along my leg
their sharp claws flaying skin. And beyond was only more of their kin.

The shadows ripped into my body, past ribs whose defense was at best shoddy,
and those ghouls they continued to burrow, and fear caused my brows to furrow.
And with a flurry of fluttered glee, those ghouls ripped away from me;
my soul which had once been golden, now seared my chest as if molten.

And splayed out upon my bed I lay, horror wrapped as my mind they to proceeded slay.
Night by night they keep returning, and with those horrors haunting, my cheeks are burning
And there they dance within the mirrors, waiting till night when they can creep nearer.
And now my punishment is to be haunted by these ghouls, for in my life I was an evil fool. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/4416-ghouls.html House upon the Hill http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/4415-house-upon-hill.html Thu, 25 Jun 2009 00:20:31 GMT Midnights coldness, belied its boldness As the shadows fade away The creaks and groans prelude stuffled moans Today, at that house upon the hill ... Midnights coldness, belied its boldness
As the shadows fade away
The creaks and groans prelude stuffled moans
Today, at that house upon the hill

And the darkness drips upon their lips
As the wind begins to growl
Mirth does end, around that bend
Howls, at that haunting house upon the hill

And the yard is broken as the storm does not token
Life with its decree
And so the tangled trees do bend upon the sea
Free to come to that house upon the hill

The sounds of beating hearts, lanced by poison darts
Leaving nothing but silence which is rending
As the twilight never needing remains to continue feeding
Pending horrors at that house upon the hill

And the houses deepest reaches overflow with leeches
As darkness drowns the light
From that warmth of the flame which forever became
Fright, at that house upon the hill

But yet no tomes will tell of that hellish home
Nothing leaves but they still come
And no ones left to warn for now they have no form
From life to that house upon the hill

And life has taken to ceasing as their subjects forfeit leasing
That which no longer holds value
For the roses have transformed into spirits newly born
Now-you go to that house upon the hill

And the houses halls are filled with muted calls
From those who are lost to it’s infernal will
And the eternal ring from requiems which sing
Fill, forever that house upon the hill. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/4415-house-upon-hill.html Prayer of the Damned http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/4413-prayer-damned.html Wed, 24 Jun 2009 23:50:51 GMT *Prayer of the Damned* He rested within the great red bed, forever entombed within. The demons danced beside his head They had long ago, been...
Prayer of the Damned

He rested within the great red bed,
forever entombed within.
The demons danced beside his head
They had long ago, been in.
And as they waited for the newly dead
the priest began to hymn.
Our Father, which art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come;
thy will be done,
in earth as it is in heaven.

The devils shrieked his name.

And as hope flickered in his eyes
(much closer they had came)
as they would when, he finally dies.
In a raptured state of shame.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive them that trespass against us


The demons began to sass

The man’s heart began to slow.
And soon his body would be in the grass,
he pondered this as his fear began to grow
And he finally knew he was soon to pass.
To an afterlife filled of woe
.

And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil.

The man had given into temptation
long, so long ago,
and he was getting to pay the price
as it was time to go.

[For thine is the kingdom,
the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever.]


And he would spend forever and ever
Wrought by that which he had sowed
And he would eternally be severed
From that kingdom he would never know
Amen ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/4413-prayer-damned.html Need opinions on this sonnet http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/3422-need-opinions-sonnet.html Tue, 21 Apr 2009 10:18:22 GMT Less We Forget the Sun I gaze up into the whirl-wind beauty of the night; the shadowy wraiths of clouds blending shades of black, the... Less We Forget the Sun
I gaze up into the whirl-wind beauty of the night;
the shadowy wraiths of clouds blending shades of black,
the glistening stars of this cold night twinkle back,
to my eyes, who wonder and dazzle in their delight.
Though the stars were bequest of glistening light
and this wondrous night has all the elegance of an aristocrat,
the comfort of the sun was missing and so on the grass I sat
With this mysterious soothing night filling me with fright.


As the night prolonged I wished for the suns gentle blaze,
Its warmth and encouragement I missed and yearned,
as I had forgotten the suns glory and thus the dawn did it amaze.
As the dawn?s horizon filled with colors so alive they burned
I no longer had to fear the dark while bathed in the suns soft rays
And so less not forget the glory of the sun, for darkness to light it turned. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/3422-need-opinions-sonnet.html The mind entrapt within http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/1263-mind-entrapt-within.html Sat, 06 Dec 2008 07:23:39 GMT Hey all I did a heavy revision of one of the previose stories that I have posted here. It is a lot cleaner, and I feel overal better some aspects... Hey all I did a heavy revision of one of the previose stories that I have posted here. It is a lot cleaner, and I feel overal better some aspects have been cleared up and others have been removed or made more dramtic. The story also gained about two pages from all the editions. Well I hope everyone who reads it will enjoy and be sure to leave a comment telling me what they think.

Part 1

Daniel yearned for the biting feel of the chilled autumn wind upon his cheeks as his wheel chair was being pushed from behind by his father. Such a simple and common feeling now seemed like a glorious luxury as he sat confided to a wheelchair his skin reduced to just holding his internal organs inside. Oh how Daniel yearned to feel the warmth of his father’s hand as it now rested upon his shoulder. But even with these longings for things he could no longer have, Daniel was finally taking joy in the world around him. His eyes were delighting in the mixture of the red and gold leaves as they hung from a branch. And though he could no longer hear the gentle chirping of the birds around him, he was still able to imagine how wonderful their joyous song was on this brisk November morning. “Finally,” Daniel spoke out loud to himself, and a frown crossed his face as he was still adjusting to not being able to hear the sound of his own voice.
His eyes roamed upwards to look into his father’s hazel eyes, just in time to witness the slight smile that Daniel’s words had brought to his face. And though Daniel had not learned to read lips in the three months since he had lost his hearing he could still make out his father’s mouth echoing his words, and this brought a smile of anticipation to Daniels face.
For this was a day of tempered celebration, as this was the eve of the day Daniel would finally be able to shake away from some of the horrible fate that had been bestowed upon him a year ago. That eerily similar day a year ago that Daniel had first been diagnosed with Tucker’s disease. And as the days had come and gone over this last year Daniel had fallen more and more into a depression which was now being alleviated with the anticipation of tomorrow’s surgery to implant the ANCD, the device that would finally allow him to communicate. As this was the first time since Daniel had lost his sense of touch, that the thoughts of suicide had finally left Daniel’s mind as his eyes took in the wonder of the small park around him.
When Daniel had been younger he had been asked was asked write a paper on the morality of Euthanasia, at the time he had seen it as a sign of personal weakness to resort to suicide. Just the thought of not fighting to the end had appalled him. He had been brought up reading the epic poems about warriors’ glorious final stands. So to him it had been sub-human to give up and not only accept but embrace death. He had been stout in his belief that he could withstand any illness or fate that he might have suffered during his life. But those had been the musings of Daniels life before he had been plunged into the hell that was tuckers disease.
Daniel vaguely remembered hearing about this new disease in some medical journal he had read while in college. Roughly Ten years ago from today a Tucker’s had first been diagnosed. Something about new water pollutants mutating one of the chromosomes which made Tucker’s a new genetic disease. Daniel had found out while making strained small talk with one of his doctors that the official scientific name was Sensual Dystrophy. But the disease had been named after the disease’s first victim of this nightmare.
The effects of Tucker’s disease actually had sounded more like a hypothetical proposed in one of Daniel’s college ethics classes. The disease slowly corrodes your nervous system destroying your brains ability to recognize the sensual information that is sent to it by, eliminating each sense, touch, hearing, sight, smell, and taste. Each fading away one at a time. But Daniel had found out all too soon that the true horror of SD is that your thinking, reasoning, intelligence and overall awareness are left completely intact.
When the doctors had first informed Daniel of all of this final part, when they had told him that the disease was not going to affect his mind at least biologically, Daniel had thought it a blessing. To him it had sounded like nature balancing itself, but by the time his hearing had vanished he had seen this so called blessing for what it really was, false hope.
Daniel watched as the birds flew in front of him, the clouds above seeming heavy as they draped the world in grey. His father had apparently decided it was time to head back to the confines of the hospital. Daniel gave thought to his family and how he was continuing to burden them, his very existence now a reminder that they had forever lost the happiness they had once shared together. SD normally took two years to completely eradicate all of its victim’s senses, and Daniel was already a year in his sight and hearing gone. And he knew that if it hadn’t been for tomorrow’s surgery that things would have gotten worse.
Tucker’s disease wasn’t really fatal, or at least not as fatal as other terminal diseases. The first man to have suffered from the disease is actually still alive after ten years of affliction. He “lives” in Kentucky, his wife and children in charge of the soul sucking task of watching the respirators pump endlessly. The only conformation that the man they loved is still in his body is the occasional brain wave scan to make sure he is not comatose or dead. It is almost comical that the disease is described as painless. And that could be perceived as a fair enough description, as the whole process is physically painless, minus some minor phantom feeling. You see the first sens to go was always that of touch. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/1263-mind-entrapt-within.html Requiem for Tomorrow http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/986-requiem-tomorrow.html Thu, 30 Oct 2008 01:22:22 GMT *Hey all new story is written and so as per request I am posting it up. This one is the longest as of yet. This one is a little raw due to the result... Hey all new story is written and so as per request I am posting it up. This one is the longest as of yet. This one is a little raw due to the result of the time contraints I had to do it in, and teh fact that halfway through I lossed half of it and had to rewrite it at six in the morning so it hasn't been proofread as much as I would like, but still I love the concepts explored within it

ENJOY



Requiem for Tomorrow
His parents were dead now, but when they were alive the trees grew. When his parents had lived the world had likewise thrived or so it had appeared to Deacon when he was younger. Even now, having studied the technical reasons as to why the world had begun its stagnant decay, the panicked elections and clamoring for charming candidates leading to inept leaders and failed government policies. And even though the problems had started long before he was even born, Deacon still looked at his parent’s death and the death of the trees as undoubtedly linked. Both beings symbols of the unchanging world around him.
Deacons life hadn’t seemed to change either, he still walked the same street home that he had been walking for the last six years. The barren landscape around him was still dotted with the twisted black shrubs that seemed to live as scars upon the scenery. The streetlamp on the corner by his house was still burnt out. And that same faded, blue front door still awaited him as he slowly walked his way up the cracked concrete of the driveway.
On the other side of that door was that same scene which he had witnessed almost six years ago, and had continued to encounter almost daily ever since. At the time he had first seen it; his parents had been dead for close to half a year and Deacon had been living with his older brother. Greg was twenty at the time and the only family Deacon had and as such Greg had been named Deacon’s legal guardian. Greg had been forced to drop out of college with the death of their parents, and the house they had all shared together was sold and the two brothers moved into where they now lived. Even with the money from the house Greg had still struggled to make ends meet as he toiled away at dead end jobs. And the loss of his parents slowly ate away at him, as Deacon would hear him trying to stifle sobs at night. But to his testament he had tried to not let these troubles effect the eleven year old Deacon. And Greg made every effort to try and be at waiting for Deacon when he got out of school so they could walk home together. And Greg had only missed one or two days in the six months they had been living together. And he had never missed a day without Warning Deacon.
The day had been like any other, Deacon had struggled through school, his mind thinking about the withering trees outside while the class chatted to each other about this new drug that had been introduced to pharmacies everywhere. The small black and white pill supposedly had the power to transport you through time to wherever you wanted to be, or at least it did according to the elaboration of classroom gossip.
The bell had rung dismissing classes, and young Deacon had made his way outside to where his brother would usually be waiting for him. Except this time he wasn’t there, Deacon’s heart panicked as it always did on the few occasions his brother missed picking him up. The whirlwind of voices, yells, laughter, and pattering feet of the other children drowned out the beating of his thumping heart. Panic had washed through his thoughts as he could feel a knot swelling in his throat. He had desperately tried to calm himself down and waited beneath the shade of the parking lot overhang brushing off questions as to his well being with a smile of false reassurance. But as the sun began to fade from its lofty perch and the feelings of abandonment and panic gave way to worry and concern, Deacon decided he would have to go home before it was completely night out.
And so Deacon took that first long walk home by himself and stopped in front of the front door just as he did now six years later. Except now then it had been trepidation and worry that had kept his hand at bay, unlike the exhaustion that now did.
That day six years ago Deacon had opened the door and walked into the small two bedroom bungalow he and his brother still lived in. The lights were off, and the room was cloaked in that eerie grey/blue light that envelopes the world just after sunset and right before the twilight. He had closed and locked the door behind him by the time he heard the soft giggles from behind the yellow coach. The hushed laughter seemed distant as they emanated throughout the room, as if the subject of the mirth was some far away occurrence. Deacon had slowly approached the couch, and climbed onto the yellow cushions. The giggling seemed to somehow grow louder even as the sound of Deacon’s blood pumping through his ears drowned out the world around him.
Finally mustering up the courage to look at what was on the other side of the couch, Deacon peeked his head over to see his brother giggling on the floor. His eyes were open and staring back up at Deacon unfocused as if he was looking at something else. His face glistened as a thin layer of sweat had broken out across his body, and his mouth trembled as his laughter bubbled from between his lips.
Deacon quickly hopped over the couch and kneeled by his brother’s side, shaking him and calling out his name, but the laughter just continued as Greg’s eyes continued to look distantly straight forward. But as Deacon continued to shake his brother and call his name, his brother spoke.
“Dad, no stop. You’re tone death, Your tone death, it’s hurting my ears.” At these words Deacon had fallen back from his brother as if he had been possessed by some unseen demon. Deacon fully remembered their father’s bad singing which would normally frequent their car on the family trips the four of them had used to take together, and the way him and his brother used to laugh and beg him to stop. It was also one of the things the brothers had most missed when their parents had died. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/986-requiem-tomorrow.html The prison of the mind http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/633-prison-mind.html Wed, 24 Sep 2008 06:02:26 GMT Ok heres my next story sorry its a week late but didn't like the one I wrote last week. This one is a bit less raw than usual but as always needs work. I hope you enjoy it :)

When I was young I was asked to do a paper on the morality of Euthanasia, at the time I naively saw it as a sign of personal weakness to resort to suicide. Just the thought of not fighting to the bitter end appalled me. I had been brought up admiring the final stands of histories heroes. How the Spartans fought at Thermopylae, how George Washington refused to accept defeat during the cold winter in Delaware. So to me it was sub-human to give up and not only accept but embrace death. Wolves went off to die on their own in shame and solitude, not people. I was truly adamant in my belief that I could overcome any illness; I would either fend off the disease or die fighting. I truly believed, and in fact still believe that I could fight through any pain. I also used to be comforted with the knowledge that with today’s medicine, physical pain from a terminal disease has become little more than a specter. But little did I know at the time, what would occur two years ago.
Ten years ago a new disease was first diagnosed, SD. The scientific name however is Sensual Dystrophy or more commonly known as Tucker’s disease, named after the first victim to suffer through this latest medical torment of this all too real nightmare. The effects of Tucker’s disease actually sound more like a hypothetical proposed in a college ethics class rather a real possibility. You see the disease slowly attacks your nervous system destroying your brains ability to recognize the sensual information that is sent to it by, eliminating each sense, touch, hearing, sight, smell, and taste. One at a time each sense will disappear. But the aspect that makes this disease truly diabolical is that your thinking, reasoning, intelligence and overall awareness are left completely intact. It may at first sound like a blessing, nature’s natural tendency towards a just balance. But in actuality it becomes a false hope. Normally from the time of diagnosis it takes roughly two years for all your senses to completely disappear, leaving you a soul within an empty husk. But the disease is fatal in the “loosest” sense of the word. The first victim is actually still alive, if you can call it alive. He lives in Kentucky, his wife and children in charge of the soul sucking task of watching the respirator’s endless pumping. The only conformation that the man they loved is still in his body is the occasional brain wave scan to make sure he is not comatose. It is almost comical that the disease is described as painless. And that could be perceived as a fair enough description, as the whole process is physically painless, minus some minor phantom feeling. You see the first senses to go is touch.

It has been two years since I was diagnosed with Tucker’s disease, and even now in the darkness of my severed mind, the details are scarred into my thoughts. I had gone for a checkup with my surgeon; about half a year prior I had accidentally sliced into my wrist gardening. How I had hurt myself would be comical, if not for what was looming. While I dug a hole for a pair of red and white snap dragons, the sudden crackle of a crow distracted me. And as I glanced behind my shoulder I accidentally slammed the spade into my wrist. I was later told that I had severed the median nerve and two tendons. After more than half a year of extensive rehab my right hand was once again starting to function, but I still had to attend a weekly physical rehab session and a monthly check up with my doctor to see how the nerve progress was doing. The feeling was strange, otherworldly even. I could see my hand and touch my hand, but except for the occasional phantom pain, I couldn’t feel a thing.
It is pure poetic irony that the diagnosis of what would eventually become complete paralysis, was first diagnosed while checking to see how the feeling in my hand was proceeding.
As I lay here in darkness, I can still vividly see that one particular moment, as if I was watching from the seats of one of those old cinemas. The surgeon’s prodding and poking of my hand to check for something called two point feeling. I remember my boredom waiting to get out of the hospital, after all I had never severed a nerve before and everything seemed perfectly fine to me. I even remember that the doctor’s hair looked recently cut, and messily parted to the left.
Then the words, which would become a trigger for the curse that my life has become, were spoken with an eerie calm by the doctor. “Your hand has not progressed as far as we would have hoped; I would like to hold you overnight for more observation.” I remember the false reassurance that those words held. Now that I think about it the way my mind reacted to this unsettling circumstance was astounding. The way my mind started to race to its own justifications and conclusions was simply remarkable. Maybe my nerve had run into scar tissue, or perhaps I had some rare benign disease that caused my nerves to re-grow at a slower rate and would eventually land me in a medical journal.
But during that one lonely night dark thoughts began to creep into my head. It was something about how the doctors and nurses looked at me, a slight strain in their upper lip when they smiled and how their eyes occasionally darted around when they looked at me as if the solutions were hidden beneath my bed. And while my conscious mind was strict in its belief that I would be fine, my subconscious was substantially less certain in the same belief.
And that one night became the physical incarnation of Dante’s Inferno, fully equipped with words “abandon all hope ye who enter here,” inscribed in some dark region at the back of my mind. And that dark nightmare filled night, turned into a week and that week has turned into two years. Apparently Tucker’s disease is not particularly common; only about one in every thirty million people actually has it, lucky me.
Funny enough out of two years of hopelessness and close to a year of silence it is that one phrase that most haunts me. But at the time it seemed completely harmless. As I sit here in isolation, the only confirmation that I still exist is that I haven’t stopped thinking, it’s that one phrase that plagues my thoughts, “your hand has not progressed as far as we would have hoped; I would like to hold you overnight for more observation.”

The first thing to go was the majority of my feeling, I remember it took just a few short months and it had practically vanished. Ever so gradually, and yet rapidly, a hypocrisy of torment, that slipped from my body like water from my palm. Every day I would wake up and feel a little less, the sensation in my body a little more dampened. But I never acknowledged the loss of feeling, It was like the growing of hair, it grew you knew it did but you didn’t realize it until that one day in the mirror. For me the mirror was a spring shower. I can distinctly recall that I had walked down the driveway to go fetch the mail, and as I briskly walked down the driveway I stopped walking and looked up. It was raining. I knew it had been raining, I had seen the tiny droplets collide with the ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/633-prison-mind.html Echo http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/547-echo.html Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:14:11 GMT Ok this is a different type of story. This one is also still raw and needs work as well sorry. *WARNING this one is quite dark and has sone... Ok this is a different type of story. This one is also still raw and needs work as well sorry.

WARNING this one is quite dark and has sone disturbing content.

PART 1

ECHO


The white hum of the florescent lights always hurt his eyes. Eric always felt as if he was blind when he was around them. The light radiating all around him, small blinding rays of flickering light slowly pulsing their way into the back of his head, distorting his perception. This is what he hated about the outside world, everything was imperfectly done.
People where jostling all around him, rubbing against him, his body rolling slightly from their casual brushes. Eric’s long overcoat was scarping against his skin, he felt each individual fuzz of fabric scraping against his flesh. This accompanied the overwhelming stench that filled his nostrils and which sat at the back of his throat. The sweet smell of the galleries cleaning ammonia was muddled and degraded by the oily stank of the people around him.
Eric was becoming dizzy; the world around him overwhelming his sensibilities, there was too much. Those lights burnt into eyes, he was unable to catch his bearings, his feet became unsure as the outside world was swallowing him into her dizzying array sense.
Eric was knocked forward; his hands barley managing to stop his body from slipping over the rail, the auburn rail was all that divided the masterwork piece of art in front of him from the swarming masses behind me.
“Pardon me,” said a voice from within the mob. Eric couldn’t tell who it was that had said it. He decided it was time to leave, he didn’t care much for any sort of modern or impressionistic art, it just seemed like talentless paint spread across a canvas, or random collections of materials to create some sort of monstrosity which people would swoon over. This world was devoid of craftsmanship.
He walked slowly through the crowed, trying not to touch anybody or anything; he hated the clammy oily substance that was thinly veiled across human skin, their bodies were absolutely covered with germs and slick with a thin layer of sweat and oil. With every breath they expelled bacteria like a pump. He had once heard that a single sneeze sprayed germs up to a twenty-five foot cone from the nostrils, think of all the bacteria. “The gods never had to suffer disease,” he mumbled to himself. This is why his hands were always shielded from the mortal world by a pair of leather gloves.
As Eric pushed forward against the tinted glass door, he noticed an old lady behind him. He held the door open for her and let her go in front of him. She walked ever so slightly hunched over; bundled up in a dull green overcoat, an ornate red hat sat atop her whitish red hair. “Thank you,” she said, her soft voice and equally kind eyes radiated her true gratitude at not having to strain her frail body against the door to move in order to move the heavy glass. He just nodded in acknowledgment. Eric liked the elderly, there skin, dry with age, seemed cleaner. Their apparent mortality made him feel almost immortal with the knowledge that those years were so distant.
He walked out after her into the street his crimson scarf wrapped around his neck to keep him away the chill of the bay air. Many people thought California was always sunny and warm. Those people had never been to San Francisco in the winter time, the sea air sweeping in front of the enshrouding fog as if it was an usher. It wasn’t cold that froze the skin, but a piercing chill that cut thru the muscle. The fog would then dampen the surroundings as it rolled through the streets, which were little more than cracks in the majesty of the tall buildings.
The walk back along the Warf was disgusting as always, the filthy homeless, making their living as parasites upon the long snake of people that weaved their way along the sidewalks. It was close to dusk now, and the people huddled around the shops and filtered into the cafés, like impurity in water. The seafood booths dotted the surrounding area; the salty sea air was too cold for the flies to buzz around their wares. To get to his apartment house he ad to cross through China town, his least favorite part of the city. The endless thick crowed of people, a sea of disgusting little souls. And he had to bridge them; he had to part the tide of pathetic beings like Moses did unto the Red Sea. He slipped between them attempting, unsuccessfully, not to make contact with anything around him. He did what he always did, gauging his movements to be at the front of the group of people at the crosswalk, all this just to try and stay in front of the bulk of the crowd. His tall stature allowed him to look down upon the people around him.
He finally made his way across to the next street and walked the steep San Francisco hills up towards his small house. The small patch of grass in front was neatly clipped; the gardener had been earlier that day. He pulled his Mickey Mouse ring out of his pocket, he greeted it with a sneer and a word “Rat” and then proceeded to unlock the door, listening as the heavy tumbler turned and freed the portal. He entered his dark apartment, the Venetian blinds pulled down to stop anyone from viewing his private life. He quickly slammed shut the door behind him behind him and set the heavy lock into place. This done Eric leaned his back against the door in relief, gulping down the crisp clean air of his home. Finally relieved to have escaped the world behind him, the shut door imprisoning the earthly realm the way children imagine some strange world within the confines house of their closet.
The house was unearthly clean the furniture covered in plastic, the hardwood floor holding the sweet aroma of ammonia and several other detergents. He took off his black overcoat and methodically hung it in the closet. A bead of sweat broke across his brow and swiftly shut the door, fear creeping in that world might lie within. He walked into the kitchen and opened a cupboard, withdrawing a large silver pot from within its depths. He placed it upon the electric stove. He glanced over at his fridge; nothing was on it, no magnets holding up pictures of friends or family, no notes reminding him of something important, it was just a stark white fridge. Eric walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer door that sat atop it. Within its frozen depths were several large chunks of ice, he grabbed one and took it over letting it descend from his fingers into the heated pot. He had once heard that many bacteria could withstand extreme cold and some could survive extreme heat, but very few could survive both. He didn’t know if this was true or not, he couldn’t even remember where the tidbit of information had come from but it was a case of precaution. So every night when he arrived home he would repeat this procedure, melting down the block of ice he would use for water each night, and then putting it in to the fridge to cool once againt so it was pleasant to drink.
While the ice melted Eric walked slowly into his living room, he sat down into a leather armchair laminated with plastic and turned on the T.V. At the side of the chair sat a small fridge, he opened the door without looking and took out a bottle of soda water, this was the only thing he would dare drink straight from the bottle. Soda water had carbonation, and this helped to make the drink acidic, not many things would live within carbonation he thought.
The news was on the T.V. Though he didn’t really care what was on, the pathetic problems of little people wouldn’t interest him anyway, he already new that. It was more a habit from his childhood. But he did almost like the news when he was in his armchair; it was like sitting there atop a throne listening to his peoples grievances groveling before him to solve petty disputes. Of course he didn’t really understand what a grievance was. Oh he new what the word actually meant, a wrong considered as grounds for complaint. But he couldn’t comprehend why people would have them, or what caused them. He had always been like that he just couldn’t relate to people, he just didn’t understand emotions. He knew what an emotion looked like, like when someone was angry there face creased and they talked loudly, but he had no idea why someone could be angry. He had even seen a psychiatrist about it once; he had been told it wasn’t a lack of empathy, but the complete absence of it. The psychiatrist had prescribed him a bottle of pills, and told him to come in every now and then for check up and refills, Eric hadn’t thought it a good idea, and had deposited the pills into a trash can outside the pharmacy.
He sat in his chair and dosed off for a little while, he awoke to the sound of the hiss of the water as it bubbled over the pot and sizzled on the stove below. He got up and turned it off he, grabbed the plastic handles of the pot and went over to the fridge, he open the door and pushed it inside, closing the door without really looking at anything inside it.
As he sat down at the kitchen tabled he wondered about what there was to do, he was no longer tired so sleep would be counterproductive, the museums had all closed by now so there was nothing to go look at, and the water wasn’t ready yet so there was nothing to cook or drink. He supposed he could go downstairs into his studio and work on his art. So he opened the door to the staircase and walked downstairs into the garage, the stairs were old and wooden; and creaked as he walked on them. Gentle moans escaping from their nailed lips. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/547-echo.html The Obsidian Tower Ch 1 http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/189-obsidian-tower-ch-1.html Sun, 01 Jun 2008 21:45:28 GMT Ok its finished and reasonably edited, of course there are my customary grammatical mistakes. This is a bit longer than the prologue. But Enjoy, and... Ok its finished and reasonably edited, of course there are my customary grammatical mistakes. This is a bit longer than the prologue. But Enjoy, and if you read this please tell me what you think, what did you like or dislike about it.

So without further wait. Here it is :)

Also if you haven't read the previous part here is the link to the prologue
http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blo...ian-tower.html

Chapter 1 Part 1

The Demons Without
The best laid plans are often ruined by a single moment of empathy—
Leiv the Shadow Count

Leiv braced his back against the tree, preparing himself for the sudden jerk that was soon to course down the thin rope he held between his gloved hands. His bright grey eyes following the fall of the second watchman, the black mask that covered the bottom half of his face hiding any emotion that might be present. The watchman attempted to cry out as his mind suddenly came to the realization that their was something looped around his neck, this cry was however cut permanently silent as the man’s neck broke from the sudden stop the rope enforced upon his plummeting body.
Leiv let out a barely audible grunt from the strain of holding the mans bucking body aloft, after he took a moment to make sure that the watchman was dead he released the rope, trusting in the snow and wind to muffle any noise that the body made as it hit the floor.
The grey skinned elf quickly analyzed the circumstances in his head. He had dispatched the six watchmen he had found, and from his surveillance of the slave camp he knew that should be all. If he carried on north for another for roughly another four hundred steps he should hit the outside of the cave complex which the camp resided within.
After taking a moment to realign himself the elf took off towards his intended destination, his movements so graceful that he appeared to flow through forest. Leiv looked at the world around him, noticing the polarity that the twilight of the night had brought to the snow covered forest, the eerily white glow of the snow, contrasting sharply with the night and the dark silhouettes of the trees. Voices brought the elf back from his contemplation and he realized he must have overestimated the distance to the cave. He stopped short of the clearing that stood in front of the cave entrance, his bright eyes watching from the concealment of the shadows. His stare fell upon two guards wielding pikes, and if he had not been scoping the area for the previous few day he may not have noticed the two men hidden beneath the snow who wielded a pair of heavy crossbows, hidden beneath expertly made, and likewise enchanted white camouflage blankets. His grey eyes continued to sparkle as he considered the possibilities.
He could of course shadow jump into the cave, though any form of teleportation underground had inherent risks. Any misjudgment of distance could result in the messy occurrence of teleporting oneself into solid rock. There was also the fact that he did not want any guards running up behind him if something unforeseen happened. No, the only option was to eliminate these guards. After all they were scum, men who stole young children and ran a lucrative slave trade with their “stolen merchandise.” And he had been paid to eliminate as many of the slave traders as possible, making it easier for the Harpers to proceed. Leiv let out a small laugh at the thought of the Harpers, of course he wasn’t actually a Harper, nor did he have any desire to be one. It was also likely that the high ranking or more influential Harpers had no idea of his involvement with this operation, they after all didn’t think very highly of the elfin assassin. But the old proverb went that to fight a monster you needed a monster. And for situations like this Leiv new he was exactly what was called for. These slavers needed to be taken out quickly, efficiently, and before any harm could come to whatever innocents there were in the caves. And for this, Leiv was the best gold could purchase.
Leiv let out a sighed muttering to himself, “time to work.” He grabbed the branch above him and swung himself up into the tree, he landed on one knee and beganto sprint forward along length of the branch. By now he heard the yells of alarm as the guards began to notice him. His keen eyes caught the slight movement of the hidden archers, no doubted taking aim. Quickly drawing two hand crossbows from holsters on his legs he leaped from the tree spinning through the air in order to make himself a more difficult target, buying himself the extra second which he required. While the crossbowmen, now on their knees their blankets cast to the side, attempted to realign their shots; Leiv pulled the trigger on both of his hand crossbows. The two darts sailed through the air in parallel arcs, slamming into the respective chests of both crossbow men. Their determined faces turned instead to confusion as they undoubtedly heard the glass vials in each dart crack. They were dead, holes blown into their chest, before they realized that both darts had been loaded with a very potent vial of the highly explosive oil of impact.
The small explosions caused by the darts momentarily stunned the pike wielding guards. Just long enough for Leiv to calmly drop both crossbows onto the smoking corpses of both crossbowmen. He took his time in drawing two throwing knifes hidden in sheaths on his shoulders; waiting for the other two guards to charge him before planting a knife threw the eyes of both guards.
Never having ceased his rush towards the cave’s entrance, Leiv disappeard into the darkness of the cave. After coming round a sharp bend in the tunnel he was following, Leiv noticed that the tunnel he was in was actually well let, and the hewn square shape of the corridors told him that the rock walls had been hewn to their current shape. All this meant to the elf was that there were going to be traps in at least some of these corridors, most likely as a deterrent to escaping slaves.
Noticing the sound boots on rock, Leiv turned down a side corridor. On the other end of the hallway where three similarly armed men, each wielding red shield combined with a long sword, it appears that they hadn’t had time to put on all of their armor however, as two of them wore only helmets, while the third was bare chested, only wearing his boots and pants. “So the alarm was triggered, perfect,” Leiv whispered to himself. The recently deceased guards out front had intentionally been aloud to scream out their cries of alarm before their abrupt end in order to draw the slavers attention to the front and away from the slaves. At first the slave traders would most likely set up a defense, if things appeared bad, then they would likely flee and kill the slaves, or flee and bring the slaves with them. Either way wasn’t an option. Leiv just had to make sure that this went quickly.
The three men had now began to charge the black clad intruder, putting their shields in front of them, forming a wall in an attempt to box in box in the opponent, or force the solitary opponent to fall back. Normally Leiv would have dealt with this quietly but he needed as much attention as possible focused upon himself and not the slaves, wherever they were. So without any further thought, he dropped himself into the flickering shadows wrought upon the floor by the numerous mounted torches.
The men watched in horror as the black masked enemy disappeared into the shadow, only to reemerge seconds later from another shadow behind them. The shirtless man’s mask became a pallet of pure terror, while his two comrades eyes went wide They had of course heard the stories, an assassin with ash colored skin, and grey eyes, who walked through the shadows like a shade out of the nine hells. The men where two frightened to even yell, however to their credit they did somehow managed to push forwards, whether it was out of desperation of courage Leiv did not know. Either way he doubted that they were going to actually be much of a threat. Quickly drawing a dagger and short sword from the odd circular scabbard he wore at his waist, Leiv charged forwards. The first man so unprepared for the overwhelming speed and precision of Leiv’s first strike that he didn’t even manage to lift his shield up to protect his unguarded throat. The second man faired much better, managing to swing his weapon at where Leiv’s neck used to be, before he had ducked the predictable counter and put a sword through the mans chest. The shirtless man had overextended himself with a wild cleave also aimed at decapitating the elf. Leiv bounced upwards off the balls of his feet, catching the man’s elbow on his shoulder, the sudden impact knocking the sword from the man’s grasp. The shirtless man then attempted to batter the elf with his shield. Leiv calmly fell back and launched his dagger into the man’s chest. The half naked slaver collapsed to the floor, his blood slowly pooling around him. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/189-obsidian-tower-ch-1.html The Obsidian Tower http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/180-obsidian-tower.html Wed, 28 May 2008 03:24:20 GMT As a result of the amount of people who requested to read this I decided I will just blog this fantasy story I'm writing. The story is based on the Forgotten Realms series of books as they take submissions form any author. I will post each chapter as I finish it

Enjoy:D

Prologue Part 1

The ground crunched softly beneath the exquisite black leather boots, as the light beat down upon the back of his neck. The handsome elf was attired in a Black vest and a pair of baggy black trousers. Both garments gleaming in the light of the dim sun. The vest hung loosely from his shoulders, its open front exposing the defined muscles of his chest and abs. The short silver hair that adorned his head was immaculately groomed up into small spikes, except for a single stand that fell between his vibrant green eyes. The perfectly balanced features of his attractive face were currently held in deep thought his narrow eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. Idly he rubbed the diamond stud that was twinkling in his left ear. A twin pair of scabbards bounced at his hips as he continued his walk along the barren wasteland of this layer of the abyss. Each scabbard was encrusted with twinkling diamonds that had been designed as falling stars. And his hands were hidden beneath a pair midnight colored leather gloves,
The flat land he walked upon was dry and cracked. But in the distance the sound of a roaring river could be heard, accompanied by the acoustics of a cascading waterfall, the water endlessly running off the sides of the massive platform that formed this particular layer of the hell commonly referred to as the abyss. A Sphere of swirling eldritch fire surrounded the platform providing the soft steady light.
This lithe elf looked out of place on the barren landscape of this hell. Large winged demons patrolled the sky, some took notice of the much smaller elf, but all kept a respectful distance from that particular being as he continued his casual walk towards a palace made of black crystal in the distance.
As he approached the palace the gates began to rise. Two large iron golems quickly rotated the wheel that raised the black iron portcullis, their well oiled joints gliding by each other in utter silence as to not disrupt the tranquil state of the fortress. By the time the elf made it to the entrance of his abode, the Iron Gate had disappeared completely into the wall. He walked through the entryway as the portcullis noislessly glided down behind him.
As he strolled through the courtyard, he finally paused too take in the scene around him. The scenery had drastically changed, where as outside the palace walls the land was barren and dead, inside those obsidian walls was a paradise of natural beauty. Exotic trees and plants blanketed the courtyard, with an assortment of flowers which were allowed to grow freely around the garden. Several unique creatures ran around tending to each of the floras individual needs. The scene seemed to mock the natural order, this beautiful and vibrant garden with its limitless pallet of color, was in stark contrast to the beauty of the artificial obsidian walls which surrounded it. The lone humanoid figure in this artificial natural paradise once again returned to his thoughts, and continued his way towards a pair of heavy oaken doors. Pushing his way passed the doors he calmly entered the well lit corridor that followed.
Attempts had been made to try and make these corridors more sensually appealing, a plush red carpet had been lain down with stylistic torches lining the corridors providing a warm glow. But that hard glasslike stone remained, its cold beauty making these attempts of little use. As he walked passed a passage that trailed off to the side, his ears were assaulted by the harsh cries of the tortured souls. This was the only spot in the castle that such normally demonic sounds could be heard; crude as it was, it still remained a necessity.
As he turned down another passage, out of the corner of his eyes he noticed a half-demon, the elf noticed that this particular one seemed to draw strongly from its Tana-ri heritage. The only trace of the apparent human influence that had been apart of its birth was a humanoid face that was stretched in trying to contain an overly large set of teeth, and a lack of fur. This one seemed to be of glabrezu decent, with two muscular human hands protruding from its chest, and at the end two even more muscular arms that extended from its shoulders, which ended in a pair of pincered hands. As the half fiend passed by the elf, a scroll slipped from its grasp and instinctively it brought about one of the pincered claws to catch the fragile document before it smashed onto the floor. The great limb swung out from behinds its back and would have clipped the elf’s shoulder if he had not quickly moved out of its path. The mighty half-fiend slowly turned its head its eyes landing upon the lithe figure, the bloodshot red eyes widened in fear, instead of the normal string of obscenities such a creature would normally spew forth.
“Lord Zrax,” the half-demon gasped, and began to stammer out an apology.
Zrax’s voice seemed to flow from his mouth, a soothing calm present in his voice “no Qu-izt it is perfectly fine, it was but an accident.” Zrax picked up the scroll and quickly glancing at the archaic writing scrawled upon it in some exotic violet ink, he then preceded to hand it back to the demon. “There now lets not let this happen again” that same soothing melody seemed frightening as a pleasant smile spread across the elf’s face. The twelve foot high half-fiend blinked in disbelief, and slowly backed away bowing an muttering apologies. Comedic Zrax mused to himself
Qu-izt briskly walked off, not wanting to spend another moment with Lord Zrax less his master’s mood changed. The half demon didn’t breathe again until it had disappeared around a corner. On instinct the large half-fiend took a quick nervous glance backward. Zrax had vanished. The demons eyes swirled in their sockets in vein, his desperation straining his eyes. And then every fiber of being which Qu-ist was froze when he felt the cold metal of a blade at his back. The half demon roared in fear swinging its powerful claws in an attempt to eviscerate his master, but that powerful roar became a gurgle. Qu-izt turned and tried to swipe at the smaller figure, the clawed arms falling limply to its sides and the half demon fell to its knees as second cold blade pieced its spine. Qu-izt fell to his hands and knees as the sensation of one of the blades being wrenched from its back perpetrated his senses.
“If you had a next time, I would suggest just accepting it, maybe I wouldn’t make it hurt so much,” the elf’s eyes burned red, it was as if a powerful inferno raged within Zrax’s eyes. “Or maybe I would.” With that Zrax slashed open the demon’s throat, the narrow slit gushed blood, and as the once mighty half-fiend lay their dieing. Zrax ripped his other matching blade from the creatures back, and walked off, he would have to remember to have some of the servants clean the rug.
Zrax took a right and walked down another passage till he came to a dead end. He quietly muttered a command word, and the black glasslike stone peeled itself back, to reveal a spiral staircase. Zrax nimbly climbed the long spiral stair case. Until he at last came to a corridor, adorned with high arched windows set into both sides the windows displayed the lands around the palace. He stopped and looked. He hated the lands of this insignificant endless layer of this infinite hell, dry and barren, the ground cracked like a salt flat, horrible twisted squat trees dotted the landscape. The lone exception to this dreary landscape was around the clear flowing river that surrounded the dark palace. This sole area was lush and green, he had put his gardeners hard at work to slowly convert this land from a barren desert, to a grassy plain, but the transition wasn’t easy. Earth had to be brought in from the material plain, and water was constantly being bled from the plain of water.
He turned from the arched window and headed towards the finely crafted double doors that were at the end of the corridor. The golden handles had finely carved to look like falling stars. He pushed them open and entered the lavishly adorned room. A large plush four posted bed was to one side, draped in red satin sheets, and velvet feather pillows. On each side of the bed were matching oaken cabinets, the varnish that gave them a deeply rich color still looked fresh and glossy. A desk filled with scrolls stood near a stained glass window which depicted a starry sky and a hellish fire, the whole room lay atop an expensive looking red and silver carpet. One set of doors similar to the ones he had just entered lay directly in front of him. Another pair of doors was off to his right; this led to the rest of his personal chambers. ]]> Leiv http://www.animecrazy.net/forums/blogs/leiv/180-obsidian-tower.html