I really really want to read "The Wise Man's Fear" (Kingkiller Chronicles, Day 2), by Patrick Rothfuss. It comes out on march first, and I pre-ordered it for kindle/droid. I'm really excited. its the second in the series (doi), and I only just read the first one about a month ago, but I can hardly stand the anticipation. It's gonna suck when I finish the second one and have to wait a year for the third....
The first book is called "The Name of the Wind", and it's probably the most excellent book I've ever read, and apparently I'm not the only one to think so. It's a story being told by an inn keeper about his life. It does have elements of fantasy in them but I wouldn't classify them as the main points of the story, music plays at least as large a role. The story is magnificent in its unfoldings and keeps you heavily captivated. If you don't like fantasy books, give this one a try anway. if you've never really gotten into fantasy then definitely check this book out, it'd be an excellent gateway book into other fantasy. and if you enjoy fantasy, then you're in for a treat. This book is a fresh taste of fantasy, some fantasy rings so similarly with each other that you hardly feel the need to finish the book. This particular book doesn't have that flaw, so check it out. then, after you discover your undying love for the book, buy the next one, cuz I hear it's even better (according to reviews), besides if he gets enough money he wants to pool it with Nathan Fillion and buy the the rights to firefly from Fox.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
story on the fly
a fantastical on-the-fly metaphor of my day, starting with my attempt to fall asleep last night.
The last thing I had experienced was the weight of the trolls massive body pressing me into the heather, his (if it could be considered male) loose flesh sealing around my face, successfully denying me fresh air. I took me half an hour to manipulate him (again, male?) into smothering me. I strange thing to to aim for, I know. I rarely remember my visits to the Ether-Place, any memories I do bring back quickly fade or become disoriented; I do, however, know the three rules of the Ether-Place.
First.) time does not move in any kind of speed relatively consistent to the what we call reality
Second.) Reason has little baring on events in the Ether-place, even perspectives can shift from moment to moment.
Third.)(and most importantly), while in the Ether-Place, one's soul can be awakened to the spirits of God's creations.
To clarify, everything that has a personality has a spirit of some degree, whether it's a pet dog or a skipping stone. Some of these spirits are potent enough to communicate, a dog is, a skipping stone usually isn't. As I "awoke" a sweet melody filled my ears; as I had hoped, My soul had awakened the siren spirit of the wood, Senary Hrs. It took nearly ten minutes for the hulking troll to move himself off me completely, drawn toward the seductive sound. There was that beast snared for another day. It's too bad you can't kill trolls, you can only hold them at bay until you manage to make it into the Ether-place, and then you hope you get good back up.
Senary Hrs is an excellent method of immobilizing a troll, An encounter with a siren will paralyze most trolls for many hours. When Senary's voice quited, I rested my hand on her head. Sirens have beautiful voices, but they are as easily pleased as attention starved children, taking pats on the head and compliments as gold. "You have a lovely voice Senary, and bravery enough for a King's knight"
She giggled, or rather she gave off the appearance of giggling, if she'd directed any sound at me I would have been entranced and drawn back to the Ether-place. Chances were good that if that happened the troll would crush me well before I awoke. So she giggled silently, spun and vanished, her wave of brilliant blue hair flashing as it went.
-pause- okay, I'm getting more into this than I expected, so I haven't even made it past my morning yet, heck I'm only now climbing out of bed in the story. oh in-case you're wondering, the troll is sleep, the Ether-place is dreams, and the siren in my alarm clock. Senary =6 (of something) and Hrs. is an accepted abbreviation of hours, so he name is "six hours" and I get up at 6:00...neway, yeah I'm putting a little too much effort into a "story on the fly" which is the title i'm not changing. alright, I'll try to finish up the day, but it's gonna be brief... that "troll" is starting to kick my butt.
-unpause-
I made it back to the city and onto the wall just in time to start fending off the Cha'anas, with the rest of the city guard. Cha'anas are race of semi-intelligent ape-like wolves, who suffer mania caused by a natural stimulant growing near their habitat. they move like wolves, and have the canine faces and teeth, but their front legs and shoulders are built powerfully and all four paws are largely hand-shaped and dexterous. Every day just after dawn and shortly after noon the Cha'anas attack the city walls, they fling themselves at it ferociously, digging their clawed hands into the stone bulwark, and flinging themselves up it. Rye-tups, a sort of bad smelling moldy bread, is used as a deterrent when they start to get close, and often flinging this bread is threat enough to hold back any major assault. There have been days when the mania was too strong and they attacked in a flood. Good men have been lost to the Cha'anas, there's no love lost between us.
Someday I will go into more detail about my morning and afternoon of defense for your account, but today wont be that day. What you should know, is that it was relatively routine, if no less vicious for all that. Having evenings as my own, I ventured to the local pup to catch up with friends and swap war stories, most exaggerated beyond reason, but I laughed with the rest. when you spend your days fighting and facing gruesome death, a man finds comfort in underplaying near-misses and exaggerating his own heroics. The afternoon became evening, and evening aged to night, as we shared stories and played games. one by one men left to prepare for another day on the wall.
Even as I write this, I know it's time for me to leave. I can hear that blasted troll waking from his slumber, he's cracking trees; his mouth's a yawn with bellowed rage, a war cry of our coming battle. Now I will get up from my seat, and meet him in combat. and stupidly he believes I fight to win. I fight to loose, I fight to be brought, once-again, into the Ether-place. where I will ask forgotten questions, and experience unremembered fantasies, where I will find the rescue I need to still the demon for another day.
The last thing I had experienced was the weight of the trolls massive body pressing me into the heather, his (if it could be considered male) loose flesh sealing around my face, successfully denying me fresh air. I took me half an hour to manipulate him (again, male?) into smothering me. I strange thing to to aim for, I know. I rarely remember my visits to the Ether-Place, any memories I do bring back quickly fade or become disoriented; I do, however, know the three rules of the Ether-Place.
First.) time does not move in any kind of speed relatively consistent to the what we call reality
Second.) Reason has little baring on events in the Ether-place, even perspectives can shift from moment to moment.
Third.)(and most importantly), while in the Ether-Place, one's soul can be awakened to the spirits of God's creations.
To clarify, everything that has a personality has a spirit of some degree, whether it's a pet dog or a skipping stone. Some of these spirits are potent enough to communicate, a dog is, a skipping stone usually isn't. As I "awoke" a sweet melody filled my ears; as I had hoped, My soul had awakened the siren spirit of the wood, Senary Hrs. It took nearly ten minutes for the hulking troll to move himself off me completely, drawn toward the seductive sound. There was that beast snared for another day. It's too bad you can't kill trolls, you can only hold them at bay until you manage to make it into the Ether-place, and then you hope you get good back up.
Senary Hrs is an excellent method of immobilizing a troll, An encounter with a siren will paralyze most trolls for many hours. When Senary's voice quited, I rested my hand on her head. Sirens have beautiful voices, but they are as easily pleased as attention starved children, taking pats on the head and compliments as gold. "You have a lovely voice Senary, and bravery enough for a King's knight"
She giggled, or rather she gave off the appearance of giggling, if she'd directed any sound at me I would have been entranced and drawn back to the Ether-place. Chances were good that if that happened the troll would crush me well before I awoke. So she giggled silently, spun and vanished, her wave of brilliant blue hair flashing as it went.
-pause- okay, I'm getting more into this than I expected, so I haven't even made it past my morning yet, heck I'm only now climbing out of bed in the story. oh in-case you're wondering, the troll is sleep, the Ether-place is dreams, and the siren in my alarm clock. Senary =6 (of something) and Hrs. is an accepted abbreviation of hours, so he name is "six hours" and I get up at 6:00...neway, yeah I'm putting a little too much effort into a "story on the fly" which is the title i'm not changing. alright, I'll try to finish up the day, but it's gonna be brief... that "troll" is starting to kick my butt.
-unpause-
I made it back to the city and onto the wall just in time to start fending off the Cha'anas, with the rest of the city guard. Cha'anas are race of semi-intelligent ape-like wolves, who suffer mania caused by a natural stimulant growing near their habitat. they move like wolves, and have the canine faces and teeth, but their front legs and shoulders are built powerfully and all four paws are largely hand-shaped and dexterous. Every day just after dawn and shortly after noon the Cha'anas attack the city walls, they fling themselves at it ferociously, digging their clawed hands into the stone bulwark, and flinging themselves up it. Rye-tups, a sort of bad smelling moldy bread, is used as a deterrent when they start to get close, and often flinging this bread is threat enough to hold back any major assault. There have been days when the mania was too strong and they attacked in a flood. Good men have been lost to the Cha'anas, there's no love lost between us.
Someday I will go into more detail about my morning and afternoon of defense for your account, but today wont be that day. What you should know, is that it was relatively routine, if no less vicious for all that. Having evenings as my own, I ventured to the local pup to catch up with friends and swap war stories, most exaggerated beyond reason, but I laughed with the rest. when you spend your days fighting and facing gruesome death, a man finds comfort in underplaying near-misses and exaggerating his own heroics. The afternoon became evening, and evening aged to night, as we shared stories and played games. one by one men left to prepare for another day on the wall.
Even as I write this, I know it's time for me to leave. I can hear that blasted troll waking from his slumber, he's cracking trees; his mouth's a yawn with bellowed rage, a war cry of our coming battle. Now I will get up from my seat, and meet him in combat. and stupidly he believes I fight to win. I fight to loose, I fight to be brought, once-again, into the Ether-place. where I will ask forgotten questions, and experience unremembered fantasies, where I will find the rescue I need to still the demon for another day.
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