(Kow Otani) Shadow of the Colossus - Prologue ~ To the Ancient Land

I'm pretty sure I did. ; I can't remember. T_T Even though it wasn't entirely in the storybook form that he wanted, I at least had a picture for the cover, and had about four pages in it. It was like a mini-journal and the colonist couldn't draw. Poor Salem. XD But thank you. The end got a little rushed because I procrastinate like the dickens and wait until the very last minute to do anything ever, but I seem to be the only one ever to notice these things. ._.;

Not very. I only make words as I need them. I do have some rules, but they're English-based, so they're pretty easy to follow. At least for us English-speakers. o.o

I've posted one more so far. :3 I'm a little ahead of you. *chuckle*

Johann Sebastian Bach - Mass in B minor (Gloria)

This is, funny enough, a US History project I had written for a night class in October of '06. The assignment was to write an account of a colonist's journey, and the setting could be of anywhere, so I had decided to write a little bit history for one of my primary races. Here we have the very beginnings of their sister kingdom, and the project will actually be provided in as close to its completed form as I am able.
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We had spent generations living in the capital city of Yasiore, as had many other families throughout the continent of Horenda. We were not oppressed. We were not uneducated. We knew our position on Wieraiden, the world upon which we existed; we knew we had two moons, and two more inhabitable neighbors in the cosmos.

Our lands had been ravaged by interracial war for centuries, but only recently had we begun to feel its impact. Attacks began to plague the capital city, and as much faith as we had in the royal guard, both standard and elite, our families began to fear for their safety. We hardly questioned the judgement of their majesties—the royal family was the most powerful physically, spiritually, and of course politically—but the rest of us did not possess the same strengths.

As such, we chose to migrate. We left a letter of sorts with their majesties, which served much like a contract, binding us to their rule regardless of where we went, and then gathered ourselves to move.

We travelled steadily southward by caravan, with one herd of twenty-seven Xhaiglemesh--each larger than a full-grown Clydesdale horse--a 'vehicle' to each one, and four hundred people from all over the northern territory. We followed the mountains on the eastern side, passing over plains, then sand dunes, before hitting marshland for several miles.

It was here that we ran into issues. The wheels of our carriages continuously sank into the soft, wet earth. It had only been a week since we left, thus the supplies were still abundant.

The Xhaiglemesh tired very fast, however, and it hindered our progress considerably. They were muddy; we were dusty, save those who began to help our transport beasts. We all were weary by the time we reached solid grasslands again, and thus found ourselves forced to stop and set up camp for a few days.

To save on resources, those skilled among us hunted to sustain us, and replenish our supplies, if even just a little. A few of us, weakened by travel, grew ill; our clerics were soon drawn into active service, and on the eve of our departure, sent our hunters to gather supplements that they required.

On the third week, we reached the southern shores of Horenda, which would eventually come to be known as the Daiphoran coast. Here we reached a small predicament. How would we cross the waters? Come the next low tide, we sent out a small group of five scouts to follow the waters out as far as they could, until the depth swallowed their chests. Accomplished at night, we learned the next morn that an island was within ocular distance before they reached their limit.

To our fortune, there was at least one stellar specialist traversing with us—a former tutor for the royal family that had only recently retired—who had the passing of the tides indirectly branded into her memory by way of the cycles and positions of the moons. Within four days would come the Rhalthic tide, the highest and lowest tides of the autumn season.

We waited. In the meantime, we fished in what feeble effort we could make to further spread what remaining resources we had. Four days came and passed, but not without rain and high winds to disturb camp for at least half of the duration. As the Rhalthic tide finally began out, we gathered up camp, our Xhaiglemesh, and ourselves to follow it out; it was like a second run through the marshlands.

Our wheels cut deep into the sands again, making it difficult for the Xhaiglemesh to pull the rest of us after the retreating waters; their claws dug pits into the sand with the effort, slowing our pace, but not so much that we couldn’t still match the tides. Within hours we reached the first of what would eventually be discovered as a series of isles—it was a small island, but coming up onto the shore, its beach seemed vastly expansive to us.

While we were gathering ourselves at the very edge of this new place, we were encountered by a small group of what we gathered to be indigenous peoples, who approached us with a wary curiosity. They wore little in the realm of garments—it was obvious that the climate called for little else—and they looked far more human than us. They looked… typical by the images our minds painted of islanders; their skin was sun kissed and dark, as were their eyes and their hair.

When we demonstrated that we posed little threat to them, they turned and hurried excitably back from whence they came, leaving us to wonder just what we had arrived upon. Within the following half of an hour, maybe more, the same people returned, but with one more in tow, the sight of which made many of our hearts sink, and our stomachs clench.

They lead a large, extremely pale man to us. He looked even less human than we did, and much paler, like he belonged far, far to the north. He had silvery wings and tail, snowy white hair, and a certain, non-negotiable menace in his eyes, which churned like the very flame in the pits of Sacred Hell. We were looking at an ancient albino, who seemed to hold immense power over these peoples.

They were jabbering eagerly away in their native tongues, looking gleefully up at the heavily decorated creature, and gesturing towards us every few moments. We watched his face harden, and then turn to us, before he spoke—his voice had a heavy, intimidating rumble to it, with an accent that made it difficult for us to realize that he was speaking our language at first.

It was a demand to know what we were doing on “his” isles. He didn’t seem to particularly like our answer—as soon as we were finished, he scrunched his nose at us in disgust, and then turned away, flicking the end of his tail at the nearest of us, before striding away, barking something swift at the islanders that brought him there.

It was after he left that we realized two more things about him; the first was that what we thought was fur on his tail was actually an array of needles—the one he swiped at was bleeding from clean cuts in his face—and the second was that these people believed he was a god. Their god.

We had our doubts, but we didn’t have much chance to mull over them before those islanders suddenly ushered us deeper in, leading us into what we didn’t realize was an intricate civilization of their own. We didn’t know what to expect when we first saw the island from the bared ocean floor, but none of us would have expected the sort of population we found.

They were very hospitable to us, despite the disdain that their “god” expressed towards us, and they were very naiive, as we learned from one of them trying to touch the elementally charged blade of one of our swords, and another getting lost in the books we had loaded on one of the carriages.

They were very interested in the things we had brought with us, especially the more dangerous, which at one point they tried to trade with us for. We refused; we knew how little they understood what we had brought with us, and we weren’t going to let them learn through trial by fire. Not with an ancient being like the one we met keeping a scrutinizing eye on us.

As we settled in with them, they taught us their ways. In turn, we taught them of ours, of the many things we brought with us, and how to make them. We showed them how to properly use them, and when to use them, though we hoped they knew better on their own. Sadly, the ancient we met the first day little appreciated that we had done such. He called it corruption.

It wasn’t long before he gathered them all and left the island with them, leaving us to fend for ourselves in the village that was left behind. To our fortune, we knew almost everything that the original islanders had, and were able to establish ourselves without much trouble. It was only then that we sent a letter to their majesties, offering a detailed report of everything thus far. It had been months—nearly a year—since we first left Horenda, and we were well on our feet.

I have an unconventional form OCD that doesn't quite affect me to the same extent as people tend to expect to be the norm, but it definitely caused problems while I was in school. I had (still have) a horrible case of perfectionism, and that, paired with my bad work-ethic, had none of my work ever making it in because I never had it done and never thought it was good enough for anyone else to see it.

I do it with job applications now, and have a hard time leaving messages to people because if I don't have the absolute right thing to say, I won't leave one, and it pretty much just screws me out of a chance. =/

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*chuckle* Thank you. Suddenly it seems unfortunate that the second installment was only intended to be roughly the same length as the first.

Okay, so I haven't gotten a chance to start catching up yet; I really need to do that either tonight after I sleep and work and sleep a little more, or tomorrow; oh man, why am I busy this weekend? D: I'll be an assassin, in any case, so we don't need to worry about me accidentally not making my character an expansion character. =D

If I'm not around by Saturday, in game or in messenger, it's probably because I'm doing a major rush/cram job on it. n_n; So if anyone catches me dicking around here, they can go ahead and boot me in the butt. I am prone to distraction.

...I can't actually remember if "Norlocht" meant anything, but "seulva'den secht'olath" translates to "waking nightmare" in a language I've been slowly piecing together for a number of years now.

It does, so long as you have some success. Sometimes I don't. n_n; My first couple of runs weren't so great, but those were years ago.

XD That's okay, on both accounts. You know what I could have suggested, even? The picture linked in my signature. But take your time. I take forever to get anything started or finished, so it would be silly of me to expect anything more of anyone else.

I readily chalk it up to the unfamiliar and maybe dubious names I give my works. Like the newer one I posted? I'm sure almost no one really knows how to pronounce that, and a lot of people are less inclined to click on things they're not sure how to pronounce. It's unfortunate. ._. But I like giving things strange names.

The detail that you point out has a funny explanation to it; when I write in first-person, I'll often slip into character as I do it, and sometimes the way they may write something will dictate what comes out in the end. I can probably give some examples. I have another work I did in first-person that was done as a project for school that I rather liked.

Inu Yasha was DBZ for girls. ._. It took me 50+ episodes to hate it, which is kind of terrifying because it took me the whole DBZ series to hate that to death. I kind of died a little when I saw the listing in the local theatre for the live action movie. At the same time as Hannah Montana no less. Oh god. But, really, the only way a sword should be doing anything with ranged attacks is if it's actually energy being channeled from the user (in which case they're throwing it themselves to begin with by means of swinging the damn thing, thank god I never do this anyway), or sheer force of the wind. I mean really. =_=; Even the gunblade couldn't shoot crap, Squall could only make things explode a little when he hit them.

It's why I'm trying to buy/finish my shows. T_T It's not working because now I keep discovering things on the Discovery Networks and History channels. Agh.

That quote is probably my favorite paragraph in the whole series. ._. I laughed for five minutes straight when I came across it. The whole series is excellent; I was not dissatisfied with the zaniness of any of this collection. I bought the black leather-bound, gold-leafed, gold-lettered Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide. It's like the bible of geekdom.

._. Holy crap.

The horrible thing is that I have the same exact problem. Getting me to start RPs is a nightmare for that precise reason. I think I can find something of help, though; one of the webcomics I read had a link to a twitter that gave little writing prompts daily. ...Or maybe I can't. f***. She doesn't keep an archive of her news posts. D: Agh. f***. But, searching the phrase "writing prompt twitter" did come up with this result that has some interesting phrases, one of which I know I've used before. <.<; I also had to laugh, because I just found one that said "I fired my guardian angel." Have a peek; there might be a couple bits in there that could be of some help.

I liked the stuff they started with. =/ Then they decided to start throwing in hour-long blocks of Inu Yasha, and I couldn't get interested in the TV version of Bleach, so I'd about had it with watching anything that wasn't already recorded on the TiVo. I don't remember much else they had towards the end besides the sporadic airings of FLCL they threw in to mix things up when Full Metal Alchemist ended. ...Well, aside from Evangelion, which I never caught from the beginning, and Ghost in the Shell, which I also never caught from the beginning.

I buy all my stuff anyway, so it's no big loss to me when someone stops airing something I happened to have been watching.

I have a hard time drawing hands. ._. They just don't come out well. Those big hands on silly fuzz-high Dai? I put a lot of effort into those things. The hands I draw work for my current style, but they could still come better and easier, really. =/

Venture Bros. was one of the few shows I still tuned into [adult swim] for. D: When they bumped off all the anime, I kind of lost interest, even though most of the stuff I did watch was reruns. Most of their originals were just... *shudders* I don't know how they could deign to put those on the air. The Venture Bros. fandom is either few and far-between, or quiet. I might be inclined to go with the latter, because I liked to watch that show before my means of watching TV up here broke.

I have, but considering the furthest I ever got in a story was about twenty pages, I've barely entertained the thought. ._.; Probably one of the only ways I'd get anything published is through a collaborative effort with a friend, or if I stuck just to short stories. Super short stories. It's pretty sad, because I probably have enough material just with Iae's life here to fill a whole book, if not a series, though most of it sits in my head, aging, probably fading with time.

Hilariously, when I first started writing, I did a lot of independent stories, but back then my writing was complete s***. I would not be able to even look at anything I did then. All of those stories focused on other people, and had Iaeruki as a supporting character, if you could call anyone that. I write everyone like a main character almost, which is something I've always done. Almost everyone I've listed as a character (I have a document over 200 names strong; it's terrifying) has been used at least once, and chances are I'll have a record of it somewhere, likely with features described, if I don't remember them.

And now I'm going to have to see what those writing skills look like. <.< Provided you'd be comfortable with that.

IT'S SO CUTE, AGH. D8

Hoorays! Let's see if I make any this time around. I've been awake longer, I should be more prine to them now. Of course, it would help if I stopped pausing tho (haha, to) think where I shold (hah, should) be putting my fingers next.

Yay! I messed up this time! I fail! 8D

Aaaauuugggghhhllllppphhhbbblllpphhfff*guttural noises* I love it to death. Love it. It's like a giant masterpiece to me; I can't even properly describe it. The way it's written is like a series of stand alone stories put together into a loosely contiguous weave. There isn't much action to it, but it doesn't need it; it's very interesting all on its own. It's actually the kind of series that if you have someone that's open to animation but doesn't like the typical anime, this would be a good series to have as a starter anime.

There's a little blurb that the author left in the fold of the first volume of the manga. Here's what it said:

"Ever since I was a child, I've always loved the old stories. I loved insects, and I loved science (at least up through grade-school level). And so now I'm drawing this kind of story. Of course this is nothing compared to the old stories, but if you enjoy it, then that will make me happy."

The series has a very lore-like feel to it, just like Yuki Urushibara was apparently going for, and I love that. If you searched online, you could probably find complete episodes on video sites somewhere. I know I have before, but by now I own all but the last DVD, so I haven't actually bothered. ._.;