Hail,
My old man rant this week is one that has troubled me for a couple of years now: scarves. A scarf worn in January, in tandem with a big coat is all well and good. But a scarf worn at the end of October/beginning of November, in tandem with a T-shirt (!) is just plain wrong. There comes a point where a scarf ceases to be a practical Winter accoutrement and becomes a fashion accessory. And I hate fashion accessories.
So to all those people who think it hip to wear a scarf indoors and with a shirt: you don't look cool, you look like a gimp!
I thank you.
In other news, I went to see iForward Russia! at the pokey broom cupboard that is Camden's Barfly on Monday. An excellent night, which culminated in about 30 of us storming the stage and, well, kind of destroying their equipment. But hey, a good night!
Oh, and I don't often see a set that I really think is worth a mention, but the new set from Blyss is really well done!
Here's some story: it takes a bit of a different tack from here on in.
Soon enough the last of Mias flagging energy levels were exhausted, and she fell limp against Gadrion. Unfazed, the man lifted her into his arms with ease and continued on uninterrupted. The night was a friend for Gadrion, and he was grateful for not having to carry the girl in daylight. He gazed down at the bundle in his arms and admitted to himself the beauty in her countenance. Despite his often dandyish appearance, he was not given to emotional excess; yet this girl intrigued him like no other.
As briskly as he walked, it was still sometime before he reached the outskirts of the city, and a large, stately looking house. Tossing Mias prone form unceremoniously over his shoulder, he freed a hand and pounded on the oaken doors. Before long they were drawn open by a young woman with a wild look in her eyes. A smile lit up her sharp features when she saw the man:
Ah Gadrion, you return to us our creature! Do let me see her again; has she changed? The woman peered eagerly up at Gadrion, but he towered over her, and Mias body remained out of her vision.
Take your eyes off her Jinska, Gadrion replied, pushing past the woman. She is failing fast: she has broken the dependence. Jinska froze.
Broken it? she cried, Never! The masters ties have never yet been broken!
Explain then how she came to escape from the Crescent, and let herself be captured by a common rogue! The woman gasped, clearly unbelieving.
Tend to her, Gadrion commanded, marching into a huge opulent room and placing Mias form carefully on a chaise-longue.
Bring blankets and bathe her forehead in warm water: she must not be allowed to get any colder than she already is. Taken aback momentarily by Gadrions urgency, the woman hurried away to do his bidding.
Gadrion took a last sideways glance at Mia and marched back out into the entrance hall. Drawing a deep breath, he began to climb up a huge flight of sweeping stairs, which curved away into the distance. The mansion was an old one, yet was deceptively large, and architecturally flawless. Soon Gadrion stood atop the final stair, and gathering his wits about him, approached a large set of double doors guarded by a silent monster of a man. The guard nodded curtly to him as he drew near, and flung the doors open. The chamber inside was well lit; too well lit for Gadrions liking, and at the centre sat an old man in an armchair, a book placed in his lap.
Gadrion, the man started, slowly drawing up his head to face his visitor, you have returned with the girl. It was not a question but a statement. Gadrion stared at the floor, not wishing to meet the old mans gaze: yes, my lord, he muttered.
Again I must thank you for your service to me. Jinska is not suited to such delicate procurement as you are. Oh, but you must look to me Gadrion: I do so hate to be addressing the crown of your head. Gadrion did as he was asked, and raised his head, instantly wishing he hadnt done so. The old mans amber eyes instantly transfixed him, and he knew from experience that it was futile to try and wrench his gaze away.
Thats better, the old man smiled, his glittering orbs burning their way through Gadrions mind. What is her condition?
She does not fare well my lord; she is breaking free from your bonds. At this the man looked puzzled and scratched at his bearded chin, breaking his hold on Gadrion. Free from his amber prison, he quickly turned his attention back to the carpet at his feet.
You have done well my boy, the man said, somewhat distractedly. Go to the girl; make sure she lives. I will see to her as soon as I can. He waved a hand dismissively in Gadrions direction.
Very good, my lord, he replied hurriedly, and gratefully made his exit from the room. He paused for a moment on the other side of the doors, summoning back his confidence, and descended the stairs with a heart much heavier than before.
My old man rant this week is one that has troubled me for a couple of years now: scarves. A scarf worn in January, in tandem with a big coat is all well and good. But a scarf worn at the end of October/beginning of November, in tandem with a T-shirt (!) is just plain wrong. There comes a point where a scarf ceases to be a practical Winter accoutrement and becomes a fashion accessory. And I hate fashion accessories.
So to all those people who think it hip to wear a scarf indoors and with a shirt: you don't look cool, you look like a gimp!
I thank you.
In other news, I went to see iForward Russia! at the pokey broom cupboard that is Camden's Barfly on Monday. An excellent night, which culminated in about 30 of us storming the stage and, well, kind of destroying their equipment. But hey, a good night!
Oh, and I don't often see a set that I really think is worth a mention, but the new set from Blyss is really well done!
Here's some story: it takes a bit of a different tack from here on in.
Soon enough the last of Mias flagging energy levels were exhausted, and she fell limp against Gadrion. Unfazed, the man lifted her into his arms with ease and continued on uninterrupted. The night was a friend for Gadrion, and he was grateful for not having to carry the girl in daylight. He gazed down at the bundle in his arms and admitted to himself the beauty in her countenance. Despite his often dandyish appearance, he was not given to emotional excess; yet this girl intrigued him like no other.
As briskly as he walked, it was still sometime before he reached the outskirts of the city, and a large, stately looking house. Tossing Mias prone form unceremoniously over his shoulder, he freed a hand and pounded on the oaken doors. Before long they were drawn open by a young woman with a wild look in her eyes. A smile lit up her sharp features when she saw the man:
Ah Gadrion, you return to us our creature! Do let me see her again; has she changed? The woman peered eagerly up at Gadrion, but he towered over her, and Mias body remained out of her vision.
Take your eyes off her Jinska, Gadrion replied, pushing past the woman. She is failing fast: she has broken the dependence. Jinska froze.
Broken it? she cried, Never! The masters ties have never yet been broken!
Explain then how she came to escape from the Crescent, and let herself be captured by a common rogue! The woman gasped, clearly unbelieving.
Tend to her, Gadrion commanded, marching into a huge opulent room and placing Mias form carefully on a chaise-longue.
Bring blankets and bathe her forehead in warm water: she must not be allowed to get any colder than she already is. Taken aback momentarily by Gadrions urgency, the woman hurried away to do his bidding.
Gadrion took a last sideways glance at Mia and marched back out into the entrance hall. Drawing a deep breath, he began to climb up a huge flight of sweeping stairs, which curved away into the distance. The mansion was an old one, yet was deceptively large, and architecturally flawless. Soon Gadrion stood atop the final stair, and gathering his wits about him, approached a large set of double doors guarded by a silent monster of a man. The guard nodded curtly to him as he drew near, and flung the doors open. The chamber inside was well lit; too well lit for Gadrions liking, and at the centre sat an old man in an armchair, a book placed in his lap.
Gadrion, the man started, slowly drawing up his head to face his visitor, you have returned with the girl. It was not a question but a statement. Gadrion stared at the floor, not wishing to meet the old mans gaze: yes, my lord, he muttered.
Again I must thank you for your service to me. Jinska is not suited to such delicate procurement as you are. Oh, but you must look to me Gadrion: I do so hate to be addressing the crown of your head. Gadrion did as he was asked, and raised his head, instantly wishing he hadnt done so. The old mans amber eyes instantly transfixed him, and he knew from experience that it was futile to try and wrench his gaze away.
Thats better, the old man smiled, his glittering orbs burning their way through Gadrions mind. What is her condition?
She does not fare well my lord; she is breaking free from your bonds. At this the man looked puzzled and scratched at his bearded chin, breaking his hold on Gadrion. Free from his amber prison, he quickly turned his attention back to the carpet at his feet.
You have done well my boy, the man said, somewhat distractedly. Go to the girl; make sure she lives. I will see to her as soon as I can. He waved a hand dismissively in Gadrions direction.
Very good, my lord, he replied hurriedly, and gratefully made his exit from the room. He paused for a moment on the other side of the doors, summoning back his confidence, and descended the stairs with a heart much heavier than before.
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ahem.