Hello Everyone
So I guess you all have been wondering where I have been yes?
Well...yea long story >.>
Anyway I have a car now! ^_^ AND I GRADUATED!!!!!!!!!
Surprise!
Hah!
As for my LJ....it will now be a collection of writings so...yea
I will post little notes here and there so you know I am ok!
So to start us off...here is something
~~~~~~~~~~
With a subtle thud, the mug was placed down upon the aged wooden table; it’s contents void of any liquid except for a thin line of foam across the brim as well as a few strands across the inner walls. The voices on all sides of the pub began to fade into the background as his misty hazel hues stared deep into the inner recesses of the vacant object; his thoughts ruling over his awareness. Long had he forgotten of his family and their predicament, the curse causing this from time to time, it’s evil hold upon him tighter than that of the hand of death on a soulless form. He couldn’t shake it for it was his punishment for having left the protective walls of the mountains.
He brought his hand up to slip deep into the silken strands of his faded chestnut hair, the course feeling of callused and worn hands a feeling he knew all too well. Since he was young, all he had ever done was work around the house, his hands wearing out on the wooden handles of brooms, rakes, and axes. That was to be expected of the young men in Kilkenny, a town surrounded by towering mountains on every side, the only way out being to climb. That, however, was not allowed and the village elders made a strict point of it, enforcing it into each and every town member as they grew up. Horrible creatures lived on the mountainsides, their height larger than that of a grown man and their claws the length of your arm. They had grown so used to hiding within the tall trees that it was said they had changed to the color of a deep green to stay hidden. Anyone who left was sure to be never return. To ensure this, the elders placed a curse upon the mountains so that any man or woman that left would lose their memory of the town and wonder aimlessly in search of what it was they were supposed to do. Logan, was one of those people.
One stormy night, one of the guards of the town had been attacked by one of those creatures and became stricken with a plague that began to spread throughout the town. No one was brave enough to suggest going for medicine over the mountain, a thought that would surely mark their death if mentioned. Logan, however, was keen on helping and packed his things, arming himself with only his double-sided axe. That was only the beginning.
His gaze now fell upon the worn piece of parchment that sat beside his mug, the writing a reminder to himself in the words of ‘Medicine for the town.’ He had been smart enough to keep a reminder for himself because he knew of the curse. With a heavy sigh, he shifted his head side to side to release the pressure on the back of his neck, his loose ponytail shifting against the faded orange shirt he wore. He was worried and it showed well on his features, his glasses a reminder to his intelligence even though he never outwardly displayed it. He was Irish and because of such, had a wicked attitude, a drinking problem, and was prone to fighting first before thinking. This was also because he had survived the climb. Ever since then, any fight or attack he witnesses or is advanced upon with causes him to shift into a different mode of thought. He forgets about everything, his eyes shimmer, and he immediately reaches for his axe that remains strapped to his back. In this, he cries out in pride “BATTLE!” and rushes in, never killing unless need be. Outwardly, he is kind, care-free, and spends his time finding ways to play around or simply have fun; a way of forgetting his troubles and enjoying life. Also, it is because he has forgotten about the town and will not remember until he comes upon the parchment again then he forgets in a matter of a few hours and it is back to the pub. His name is Logan Kincade.
Well...yea long story >.>
Anyway I have a car now! ^_^ AND I GRADUATED!!!!!!!!!
Surprise!
Hah!
As for my LJ....it will now be a collection of writings so...yea
I will post little notes here and there so you know I am ok!
So to start us off...here is something
~~~~~~~~~~
With a subtle thud, the mug was placed down upon the aged wooden table; it’s contents void of any liquid except for a thin line of foam across the brim as well as a few strands across the inner walls. The voices on all sides of the pub began to fade into the background as his misty hazel hues stared deep into the inner recesses of the vacant object; his thoughts ruling over his awareness. Long had he forgotten of his family and their predicament, the curse causing this from time to time, it’s evil hold upon him tighter than that of the hand of death on a soulless form. He couldn’t shake it for it was his punishment for having left the protective walls of the mountains.
He brought his hand up to slip deep into the silken strands of his faded chestnut hair, the course feeling of callused and worn hands a feeling he knew all too well. Since he was young, all he had ever done was work around the house, his hands wearing out on the wooden handles of brooms, rakes, and axes. That was to be expected of the young men in Kilkenny, a town surrounded by towering mountains on every side, the only way out being to climb. That, however, was not allowed and the village elders made a strict point of it, enforcing it into each and every town member as they grew up. Horrible creatures lived on the mountainsides, their height larger than that of a grown man and their claws the length of your arm. They had grown so used to hiding within the tall trees that it was said they had changed to the color of a deep green to stay hidden. Anyone who left was sure to be never return. To ensure this, the elders placed a curse upon the mountains so that any man or woman that left would lose their memory of the town and wonder aimlessly in search of what it was they were supposed to do. Logan, was one of those people.
One stormy night, one of the guards of the town had been attacked by one of those creatures and became stricken with a plague that began to spread throughout the town. No one was brave enough to suggest going for medicine over the mountain, a thought that would surely mark their death if mentioned. Logan, however, was keen on helping and packed his things, arming himself with only his double-sided axe. That was only the beginning.
His gaze now fell upon the worn piece of parchment that sat beside his mug, the writing a reminder to himself in the words of ‘Medicine for the town.’ He had been smart enough to keep a reminder for himself because he knew of the curse. With a heavy sigh, he shifted his head side to side to release the pressure on the back of his neck, his loose ponytail shifting against the faded orange shirt he wore. He was worried and it showed well on his features, his glasses a reminder to his intelligence even though he never outwardly displayed it. He was Irish and because of such, had a wicked attitude, a drinking problem, and was prone to fighting first before thinking. This was also because he had survived the climb. Ever since then, any fight or attack he witnesses or is advanced upon with causes him to shift into a different mode of thought. He forgets about everything, his eyes shimmer, and he immediately reaches for his axe that remains strapped to his back. In this, he cries out in pride “BATTLE!” and rushes in, never killing unless need be. Outwardly, he is kind, care-free, and spends his time finding ways to play around or simply have fun; a way of forgetting his troubles and enjoying life. Also, it is because he has forgotten about the town and will not remember until he comes upon the parchment again then he forgets in a matter of a few hours and it is back to the pub. His name is Logan Kincade.