For the Greatest Good -- Part V (Penny)

Part V – Account by Penny Kearney

 

  The sound of that voice sent chills through my blood. On my feet in an instant, RuneBinder firm in my grasp, I located Dana. He stood a few paces out of the cave, but the expression on his face made me halt. In all the time I’d known him, I had never seen such fury – nay, hatred – burning in his gaze.

  “You…” He rose from where he knelt by a dead soldier, his attention fixed on the owner of the chilling voice, who stood somewhere out of my sight. “You did this!”

  Even without seeing him, I knew who it was Dana spoke to. I adjusted my grip on my RuneBinder.

  Laughter rang above the crackle of dying flames. “Of course I did, you fool! Did you think you escaped because of your charming little ‘inner compass’? Hah!” The unseen figure’s tone dripped condescension.

  Though Dana had mentioned Set had the same voice as he, hearing it in reality near stung my ears. It was like some sort of blasphemy, or the ultimate form of mockery.

  “You did exactly as I knew you would. For that, Lord Ross sends his thanks. Otherwise, this battle might have been a costly one.”

  A cold fire coursed through my veins. Dana clenched his fist, not noticing me as I stepped out into the clearing.

  I had never seen Set before, in spite of all the ominous things I’d heard about him. He stood several yards away, amidst the bodies of my soldiers, with his hands clasped behind his back. In physical appearance, he resembled Dana like a twin – eyes, skin, face, build. His hair, darker than Dana’s, though, matched the shade of his sable armor and black clothing.

  At the sight of me, Set smiled, and paced several steps closer to where we stood, confidence in every footfall. In that moment the resemblance to Dana died like a strangled fawn. Every fiber, every movement, every glint in his eyes whispered of an evil so deep set as to make one think that evil had spawned him itself. And that smile…

  “Ah, the Lady Kearney graces us with her presence!” Set said, stopping and spreading his arms. “Such a thing she is; small wonder you lot follow her like blind idiots. I do hope you’ll excuse the mess, my lady, though I expect you have your good friend here to thank for it. Had he not come, I would have never put a thought to this action.”

  Dana drew his sword.

  Set snorted. “You think you can defeat me? Don’t make laugh, Dana. Your mind is open to me; you can do nothing, nothing that I cannot anticipate.”

  I shifted my gaze from Dana to Set, skin hot with anger. “You miserable devil….” Raising my sword, I moved towards him.

  “No, don’t!” Dana grabbed my arm, and jumped forward.

  The whistle of an arrow reached my ears before the shaft impacted Dana’s shoulder, knocking him backwards onto the ground. He landed with a thud on his back.

  “Dana!” I dropped my sword and knelt next to him.

  Set burst out into laughter. Not evil laughter, but genuinely amused. “Such loyalty! Too bad you acted before you thought, Lady Kearney, else that might not have happened.”

  Dana coughed, grasping the shaft.

  I reached out to stop his hand. “No, don—“

  He jerked out, gritting his teeth against a cry. “Just a scratch; leather took most of it.”

  I took the arrow and tossed it aside, but not without observing the bloodstained tip.

  “Hm…” Set’s tone shifted my attention as I helped Dana get to his feet. “Rex, was it?” He kicked a limp figure at his feet. I froze, gaze fixed on the lifeless face of my trusted captain. My friend. “A worthy fighter, but the fool had no thought of surrender. Pity, I might have spared some of your warriors.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. Set stood in the midst of a massacre he had ordained with the air of one who’d just won a mildly enjoyable game of cards. My troops, the same men who’d sworn they’d give their lives to protect the innocent, lay slaughtered in their sleep, and their killer gave no more heed to their lost lives than he did to that of a dead animal. No respect, no justice…. My mind rebelled.

  I put no thought to the action of snatching up my sword and attacking Set with a cry of rage. He met the arc of my blade with the blade of his own weapon, a near exact copy of Dana’s in a splendor of sharpened onyx metal. Though he gave ground under my advance, I could feel skill through the blades as they collided in rapid succession. Between us, Set was undoubtedly the better swordsman. But as long as he was going to give me the chance to get lucky, I would take it. I’d have an even better chance if I could maneuver him back around to where Dana could get a strike at him.

  Set jumped back over a splintered crate. I followed without giving him pause, lashing a crosscut  towards him. He deflected it and caught my sword in a bind, holding it there and watching me with glinting eyes.

  “Tell me, lady; how much did your men mean to you, hm?”

  Ignoring his taunt, I jerked my blade free and advanced with a tight combination. Once again, Set allowed me ground before coming to a halt and switching to offensive. I whipped my sword to defensive, but he pressed hard. I blocked a downward slice, stepping back a pace, and Set grasped the crossguard of my weapon with a gloved hand, peering around the crossed steel.

  “Quite a lot, to provoke such a reaction.”

  The sound of clashing steel pricked my ears. I wrenched from Set’s grasp and stood back out of his reach before allowing my gaze to flick towards Dana’s position. Four warriors had engaged him while I was fighting Set, a whirlwind of blades flashing in the moon and firelight.

  My anger abated. “Call them off.”

  “Of course,” Set raised his hand to his men, sword lowering, but still ready. The four warriors paused with obvious reluctance. “As long as you’re quite willing to accompany us on a lovely walk to replace him. Knights of your order are so hard to come by. Fair trade, and all that.”

  “No!” Dana shouted. “Set, Leave her, I will go!”

  One of the four took advantage of Dana’s lowered guard, and slammed the pommel of his sword over his head. Dana crumpled to his hands and knees.

  “Dana, shut up!” I snapped, my pulse racing. I looked to Set again, giving him a hard look. I’d lost many friends today. I was not about to lose Dana, too. Not again. “I will go if you give me your word, such as it may be worth, that if I do, you will leave him alone. And I mean alone.”

  Lowering the tip of his sword to the ground and resting one arm on the pommel, Set nodded. “Of course. I always keep my word. After all, I would hate to break that reputation.” He glanced over to his men. “Guards, leave the wretch, he has…. much to think on.”

  I watched, tense. The soldiers hesitated, then backed away, and came to join Set. One of them reached for my sword. I gripped the hilt, forcing him to yank it from my grasp in order to attain it.

  Set smiled, good humor appearing to have returned in full as he waved quite cheerfully to Dana, who struggled to remain conscious. “Have a nice night, Dana! I do hope you’ll remember this is all your fault. Always makes the rain fall harder, doesn’t it? Right, my lady, on to a meeting with Lord Ross, shall we?” He lifted his sword and sheathed it with a clank. “He’s always fond of visitors of such lovely appearance.” He gestured to his men, who took up guard formation around me, and walked towards Dana.

  Set knelt, grasping Dana’s collar to keep him upright, and whispered something in his ear. For a sudden moment I wished I could hear what it was Set told him. Set had taunted him from the start, so what was so special about what he said now that he had to say it to Dana alone?

  Set released him, and Dana collapsed. A pit tightened in my stomach, watching him struggle to push himself up again as Set returned.

  I’m sorry, Dana. But you better not do anything stupid when you wake up.

  “Now,” Set stood before me, satisfaction in his slightly downward gaze. “Shall we?”

  That smile was now officially on my nerves. I backhanded him across the jaw. My hand stung, but seeing him flinch in pain at my blow sent a spark of pleasure through me that outweighed the pain. Set held up a hand to restrain a reaction from his guards.

    “Lead the way.” I said, as his gaze came to me again.

   Though the smile still lingered, it had diminished. “Of course, my lady.” He gestured towards the forest. “This way.”

   Rather than waiting for the order, the guards gave me a shove in the right direction. I caught my balance before falling, and took my position in the center of the four man formation, giving them no more reasons to touch me.

  “There is always a way!” Dana’s voice rose from the receding camp. “I will find it, Penny, be ready with the others!”

  Annoyance passed over Set’s expression. “Come, faster. We don’t want to make Lord Ross wait, do we?”

  He strode ahead of the guards, leading the way. With his gaze off me, I glanced back to catch sight of Dana. All I could see was his form dropping fully to the ground, unmoving in unconsciousness amidst the smoke, embers, and bodies of what used to be our hideout.

  Then the forest engulfed us.

Inspiration from an Unlikely Source

But then again, when is inspiration from a likely source?

Just as a disclaimer, I am very much not a video game person. I don't own them, I don't play them, I rarely look into them. I'm a writer, I don't have time for video games.

However. There are several games that I know about vaguely that have always struck me as interesting. Both these games contain content I likely wouldn't be comfortable with even if I did play video games, but since this is my blog, you won't have to worry about that in regards to why I'm even writing this post in the first place.

Anyway!

-Sigh- It's late. Bear with me.

I found these two very awesome, video game themed videos on youtube that I wanted to share. The first one is Assassin's Creed meets Parkour. The bits and pieces I hear about Assassin's Creed intrigue me, story wise, but since I don't play video games, and have no intention of starting, I haven't actively sought to learn more. However, it does mean I don't turn away select things associated with it that I find interesting. Now, parkour, also known as free running, is probably one of the absolute coolest sports ever. So when I see both of them in one video? Um, I think yes.

This next video I actually have to give credit to Dana for finding. He sent it to me just a few minutes ago, and I loved it. Like Assassin's Creed, Skyrim is a video game that has my stand-offish admiration, though I'm fairly certain it has even more things I wouldn't like in it than Assassin's Creed does. But I like the (very) basic concept of it, and in spite of what it may really be, it did inspire this mini-story and soundtrack that, on its own, is pretty awesome.

 

 

Well, that's all I have for now. As you probably noticed, my words begin to get a little jumbled this late at night.

 

Yup. Time for bed.

 

Dia duit,

~Penny

Saturday Legend Post Explanation

Short explanation.

Missed last Saturday's legend post again. Obviously. But! There's good news. I'm having a good friend of mine -- Wynter Croix -- write a guest legend post for me that will be done in time for this week's Saturday Legend Post.

So hang in there! The legend posts are coming.

Dia duit,
~Penny

For the Greatest Good -- Part IV (Dana)

Part IV -- Account by Dana MacDonald

  We traveled in silence, keeping close to the tree line to avoid casting shadows in the moonlight that shone around us. It was a cool night, not yet chill, but a hint of fall laced the air and the slight breeze that touched the trees and stirred leaf and grass. After several minutes of moving in this manner, dodging from tree shadow to tree shadow, I stopped, holding a hand up to signal my movement and crouched near the bole of a tree in the midst of short shrubbery. Kearney did the same, her gaze drawn to the same image mine was. To the right of our path of travel we had taken so far, lord Campbell’s castle could be seen, rising up out of the still water of the moat spread around it. I studied the layout, as well as our position, for several moments, recalling the paths the guards took. Kearney sat in silence for several moments before she said in a hushed tone,

   “Alright; your cue.”

I gave a slight nod, and took a deep breath, half closing my eyes as I focused. I brought to mind the place I desired to be. My eyes closed even further as images flashed, memories of Campbell’s castle, both inside and out.

  Though to me it felt like a longer duration, it was but mere moments from when Kearney had spoken that my eyes snapped open. I could feel it; the sense of direction, an innate notion that I knew, instinctively, where I wanted to go. I pointed to a spot near the back of the castle, where it joined into the stone of the mountain.

   “There,” I said. “We need to travel right until we hit the ridge that his castle is built into. We’ll find the tunnels there.”

  Kearney rose from her crouched stance, staring down at the castle with a set expression. “Lead, and I shall follow.” She murmured.

  I stood, and began to walk once more, continuing to use the tree cover and moving to the right along the forested ledge down towards the valley.

  Kearney matched the pace I set, alert as I was and softer on her feet. Night flowed onwards, stars twinkling and the faint sounds of forest life reaching my ears. The hoot of an owl, crickets in the grass around us, occasionally a breeze ruffling the greenery.  Minutes slipped by; the castle, and the mountain it was built into, came ever closer as we walked. It reared like an ominous shadow against the moon, though lit every so often by pin-pricks of light shining from windows.

  I drew a deep breath of the night air, letting it wash any weariness I had away,  then I felt it. A sudden pang in the pit of my stomach; my inner compass swung, and I stopped in a sudden motion, breaking the silence with a single word. “Wait…”

I glanced around with sharp twists of my head, trying to pinpoint where the sense of… danger, something, was coming from. I caught the subtle movement of Kearney’s hand sliding over her sword hilt out of the corner of my eye as I looked about. Suddenly, I felt it; urgent desires to be out of sight, to be away, off of the course we were taking. I veeredoff of the path I had formerly chosen. The feeling heightened, almost seeming to shout, and I obeyed the silent command as it gave mute voice to one word: run.

   Kearney following behind as I sprinted toward the moat, no longer heeding silence, for I knew somehow that if we did not get out of sight soon, it would make no difference. We reached the water, and I tore my cloak off, tossing it aside in my haste I as I began wading into the water.

   “Hurry, we’ve little time before…” I grasped for anything to explain it, anything to convey my feeling in words I could muster in so short a time.  “Before something happens. Don’t worry, the water remains shallow enough throughout the bay.”  To my surprise, Kearney did not react in confusion, but nodded as she crouched by the water’s edge,  and located a sizable rock, one she could lift with one hand. She unfastened her own cloak,  snatched up mine, and bundled the two around the stone. She  walked out into the water, dropping the bundle after  wading about knee deep , and then  followed me as I headed deeper into the moat’s water. I turned  around to watch her  draw closer to my position, but a sudden spike warned against any more activity.

  “Get down!” I hissed, before sinking into the water, staying high enough above the water to keep my nose above. Kearney lowered into the water, disappearing as I did. To our luck, we had reached far enough into the moat to be hidden from moonlight by the castle’s immense shadow.

  I had not long to wait to see what it was I had been disturbed by; creating enough din to be heard long before they were seen, a large force of soldiers marched past, traveling on the same path we had been taking, just outside of the tree line. Their voices and the tramp of their feet sounded harsh on the night air.  It took a full three minutes for the column of soldiers to pass out of sight ,  and two more for the sounds of their movement to die off.  As it did, so did the feeling of discomfort within me, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I rose a touch from the water, holding my head above the water and murmuring,

   “Good show we were on this side of the castle, else the moon would have shown us. We’ll have to swim for it if we’re going to go on, I don’t want to risk meeting anyone else.”

Kearney rose from the water to my level, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face.

   “I didn’t get a good look at the emblem,” she said, “Were they Campbell’s, or Ross’s?”

   “Ross’s, I’m certain. Campbell’s men would not make such a din. They know the area, and despite their allegiance, they have more care for their forests.”

   I peered out into the forest, stilling a tremor in my muscles from the cool water. A troubling thought came to my mind, and I voiced it.

   “It seemed a large force for a simple scouting party, though… do you think…?”

Kearney glanced at me, traces of uncertainty coming into both her voice and expression.  “They can’t have found out where we’re staying…”

    Set.

    “Unless I was being tracked.”

    Kearney looked at me sharply, and I met her gaze as steady as I could.

   “I didn’t detect anyone, but it’s a possibility. I took all the precautions I could, but even still…”

   Unable to bear her stare any longer, I looked away. “I must have been a fool to try and find you all.”

   Kearney rose fully, water dripping down her armor and clothing as she stood half out of the water, staring back the way we’d come. The way the soldiers appeared to have traveled.  

  She sloshed back to shore, and I followed, though with a wary eye on the trees; my sense was still pinging enough that we might not be yet out of danger. When her feet touched the firm sand of the shoreline, Kearney began to run, back the way we had come and after the soldiers.  Again, I followed, and we jogged up the slight  embankment to the tree line, retracing our steps. 

  The pace she set was swift, less heedful of stealth, but I did not voice any complaint. Steadily, as we traveled, a feeling of ominous disquiet settled upon me, growing with each step I took . But I knew it would be useless to say anything .   I pressed on, following her form,  moving through shrubbery and around trees.

   We did not stop until we had reached the place where the skiff had been hidden. Kearney halted, leaning over as she took heaving breaths. Though I was in better shape than she, I breathed heavily,  glad for the respite. I took the time then to attempt to reason with her, but I had little hope of succeeding; she could be quite stubborn if she had her mind set to it, and especially at a time like this.

   “We… can’t go back,” I said, between the breaths I took.

   Kearney did not respond for several moments as she regained her own breath. Even as she  did at last speak, she began walking, past the bushes where the boat was hidden and onward to the camp on an overland route.

   “Why not?”

  I sighed, unable to explain to her what I felt,  and trailed  her once more. “I don’t know. All I know is that little good will come of that path.”

   “There’s no other path that leads back to the camp,” she answered. I did not respond. The night air was still, I noticed while we walked. The sounds of the forest had fallen silent, even more so than their usual wont.  No crickets. No birds. Even the trees dared not give to the breeze’s enticing.

   We should not be returning.

   I ignored the urgent sense. This way was wrong, I could feel it, terribly so. But Kearney walked ever onwards. We topped a small hill, and I noted that the underground tunnels we’d taking earlier must travel underneath. Kearney halted at the crest, peering  over the forest from our vantage point, searching for any movement, I surmised.  I stepped a few paces ahead of her, crouching and taking note of the marks crossing the ground in a wide swath.

   I spoke over my shoulder as I traced one of the marks, a footprint. “Boots, many, some iron shod. And fresh.”

   “Then they did find the camp…” Kearney breathed out.

    I jumped up, attempting the quell the disquiet in my stomach.

   “We must be quick. I can’t tell how many have passed, but maybe they still fight on as we speak.”

   Even before I had finished talking, Kearney  dashed ahead, and I hastened to keep up, loosening Pathseeker  in its sheath as I did, ready at hand to draw. Smoke tinted the air.

   Kearney did not hesitate in her direction, even in the shadow of the trees, as she plunged forward. 

  Gradually, the path we sprinted on was obscured less by trees and more by stone outcroppings as we came to the ridge that encircled the camp. Kearney turned aside from her course and entered a dark opening  between two boulders that led into one of the camp’s back tunnels. I  ducked through the low entrance after her. Torchlight dimly lit the hall, showing the path ahead to be fairly straight. The smell of smoke was thicker, and Kearney coughed once as she drew her sword, leading the way down the passage.  I kept close behind her, my hand on my sword hilt. Ever inwards we walked, the smell grew stronger .

  Then I  heard the sound of burning. But nothing else could be heard. No sounds of battle, crying men, neighing horses or clashing steel. Just an eerie silence that settled throughout the caves, even as our hasty passage echoed down the tunnel. The sense of danger ahead increased, and I drew my sword, fighting away a horrible thought of what we would find as we passed chamber after chamber, each empty of any signs of life. We finally reached the main cavern, and stopped . Like the other chambers, it  lay empty. The feeling of danger was almost throbbing now.  

   “Where are they?” I said, not heeding the echo of my voice. “These caves could have been held long against an attack with the barricades up.”

    Kearney did not answer, but gripped her sword as he walked with measured steps to the cavern  entrance,  then into the clearing.  We both stopped at the same time.

    Fire  burned unchecked on tents, wooden buildings or anything that could burn. Strewn all over the ground, in varying positions…

   Kearney gasped.

   I choked back a cry, gripping the cave wall for support. “No…”

   The missing warriors lay scattered on the ground throughout the camp. Some had their eyes closed in the sleep of death; others stared out, silent, lifeless.

   Kearney retreated a few paces into the cave. I glanced back, watching as she sank to her knees, her back to the gruesome sight. I forced my limbs to move, and staggered  out into the clearing, managing to crouch without falling beside the body of one of the fallen warriors. He was young, barely past twenty, by his  looks. My eyes misted as I covered my face, unable to look the dead man in the eye.

   “Like what I’ve done with the place?”

   The harsh voice cut across the clearing like a knife. It was familiar, very familiar, for it was my own voice, save laden with contempt.  My hands fell away, and I looked to the sound, a feeling of hate surging through my being and showing on my face.

Set.

Runt the Brave

Driven by its merciless leader, an army of rats has besieged Tira-Nor. The city’s last hope lies with a mouse so small and so young that even his family calls him “Runt.” But it is not just the rats who want JaRed son of ReDemec dead. A cold shadow stalks the war-darkened tunnels of the underground mouse city. A bodiless evil threatens to bring the myths of the Ancients suddenly to life.

Betrayed by a hatred as thick as blood, surrounded by enemies too terrifying to comprehend, JaRed is about to encounter a power beyond even that of the Great Owl ... a power that will fling him into a destiny wilder than anything he’s ever imagined!



This is honestly one of the best books I've ever read. Despite what it may seem as just another animal character story for younger readers, Runt the Brave is an inspiring tale for all ages. It's cast, though simple, and yes, they're all animals, is strong, and while younger readers will enjoy the fanciful land of Tiranor, older readers will tune into the depth of the message behind the story. The theme, 'right makes might', is well woven into the fabric of the tale of JaRed's adventure, and doesn't become preachy like many other Christian stories. The content is completely safe, the adventure rivetting, and the characters captivating.

Part of the reason I'm putting this up -- and not waiting for Rosie to write a review -- is because Mr. Schwabauer has just revealed to the OYAN community the desire to construct a Creative Arts Center in Olathe, Kansas. He's putting all proceeds from his books towards that center, and I figured I ought to give him a hand. If you enjoy reading this blog, the liklihood of you enjoying Runt the Brave is extremely high. Give it a try!

If you're an aspiring writer, I highly reccomend looking into the One Year Adventure Novel curriculum. OYAN not only saved my writing, it improved years before its time. I'm nineteen years old, and already looking to get some of my completed works published. It's only been three years since I started OYAN, and my writing advnaced further in that ammount of time than it had in the five years I had been writing prior to that. Even though I still have much to learn about the mastery of story weaving, I am where I am right now thanks to OYAN, it's founder, Mr. S, and the amazing community of writers this curriculum has brought together.

Dia duit,
~Penny




Go Noles

Saturday legend post missed yet again.... Oh, and Friday music day. Well, this is wonderful. You can imagine how great a morning routine I have by now, huh?

To explain the post title. Last Saturday, Percy, Seph, and I attended a football game. It was, in fact, the very first football game I had ever been to in my life. My dad grew up on baseball, you see, and thus our family has been more tuned to that sport than any other. Meaning I knew pretty close to zero about how football actually worked.

My cousin attended Florida State University, and while there became a rather enamored fan of the FSU Seminoles, who are, apparently, quite famous here in Florida. She was able to explain some of the basic rules of the game to me while we watched the various uniformed buff guys crash into each other and tumble over on the grass repeatedly whilst I attempted to pinpoint which one of them actually posessed the ball, and which ones were just getting knocked over for no apparent reason. With her help and a fair ammount of scrutiny, I managed to get at least the gist of the game enough to know when to be pleased and when to be displeased. AND, I'm quite proud of myself, I learned how to tell who was on the offensive and who was on the defensive just by looking, therefore relieving my cousin from the chore of telling me every other play. I confess to have gotten distracted more than once with people watching. Which was also fascinating, I must say. College campuses -- let alone college football stadiums -- are not locations I frequent by any stretch.

Perhaps one of my favorite parts of the trip was the marching band, the likes of which I've never heard or seen before. The Marching Chiefs. They were absolutely spectacular. I do not claim to be an especially talented person, so logically the ability to play any instrument consistently, march in an alotted formation, and do both of those in sync and in the Floridian heat left me significantly impressed. They preformed a pregame practice show, a half time show, and at varous points during the game to lead the massive crowd in a myriad of cheers and chants that every loyal Seminoles fan knew by heart, my cousin included. I only picked up on one of them: the war chant.

Probably the next coolest thing was their mascot. Rather than a disturbing figure in a fuzzy suit running around making a fool of itself, the Seminoles have Osceola and Renegade, a Seminole chief and his apaloosa horse. Before the game began Osceola rode to the center of the field bearing a flaming spear, paused at the Seminole symbol pained to the grass where Renegade reared up, and Osceola launched the spear downwards to embed in the ground, at which point the entire stadium erupted in wild cheers as he galloped off in triumph.

Really, right from the start of the game, the opposing team didn't stand a chance under such an oppressive atmosphere of dominance the Seminoles displayed right from the start. Murray State just couldn't compete. It would take a team of equal ranking as the Seminoles to come even remotely close to being challenge for them. All in all, the entire trip was a fascinationg cultural experience.

Go Noles.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Because I Like Fight Scenes

Lately I've been developing a LARP, and in my research on LARPs, I discovered this fun video. It's technically an advertisement for museumreplicas.com, but the fight scene is pretty doggone epic, anyways.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Percy's Forge -- The Lance Blade

Technically, this is something that Dana came up with, but I'm putting everything weapons related under the Percy's Forge heading anyways so that things stay orginized.

The lance blade is actually a weapon created by Dana used by the Phinearans, a race of wolf shape shifters from Xystia.

  Elgon turned his attention to the peculiar swords occupying the rack beside him. “With only our knives and the crossbow, would it be permissible for each of us to carry one of these?”

  “Of course. I will provide you with the proper sheathes.” William drew the blade off his own back with a metallic ring.

  Elgon heard the quick sound of metal on leather as Andras flicked a knife into his palm in surprise at the Meerinoran’s action. Jheslin chuckled. Elgon forced his expression to remain the same.

  William showed them the weapon. “Six hands high on the hilt, and the blade slightly longer. The crossguard here is wide enough to block incoming blows. It is meant to wielded dual handed, as we strap our small shields to our arms.”

  Elgon nodded. “Understood.”

  He resheathed his weapon. “We depart in an hour. My Pack will assemble by the South Gate.”
[exerpt from The Land Between Time, Outlander Trilogy Book 1)

After Percy started making all his PVC swords, Dana came up with the dimensions for the lance blade. Both he and Percy made a lance blade while we were at the MacDonald house. Though I knew what they looked like in general -- I sorta had to, considering I included them in my book -- it was still quite impressive to see the weapon in 3D.

Since this is Dana's original weapon,
I convinced him to model with it for me
rather than having Percy do it.

Here are the measurements:

Blade -- 26"

Hilt -- 20"

Crossguard -- 2"

 

So that's the lance blade, an original Xystian weapon created by Dana MacDonald.

 

Dia duit,

~Penny

For The Greatest Good -- Part III (Penny)

Part III -- Account by Penny Kearney

“You have your gift.” Dana said, rolling up the map. “You’ll find it someday, even if you don’t think it exists.”

  I shook my head. “I’m just glad you aren’t dead. That’s good enough for me right now.”

  “So am I.” He smiled. “Now, when did you want to depart?”

  “As soon as Rex returns.” I said. “It should be a couple hours. Do you need some rest? You look like you do.”

  Typically, he shrugged dismissively, but then he swayed slightly, bracing himself on the table. “Well…”

  I fixed him with a stern look. “Go lay down.”

  He was certainly tired, for he put up no protest. “As you say, your highness.”

  After watching him depart into the cave to ensure he didn’t change his mind on the way, I also abandoned the makeshift table to check on status of the men assigned to the hunting party.

  For the rest of the day, I left Dana to his slumber. Since I did not see hide nor hair of him all that afternoon and evening, I assumed he remained asleep, and when I padded silently into the cave late that night, I discovered my assumption to be correct. He lay on his own out of the way of the rest of the infirmary a short ways from the mouth of the cave. Had the enemy attacked at this moment they would have mistaken him for a dead man, so soundly he slept. Pathseeker rested on the ground at his side, its red jewel glimmering in the moonlight that drifted in from outside.

  I knelt beside him, hesitating a moment, then reached out and shook his shoulder, whispering, “Dana.”

  He didn’t respond.

  I shook him a little harder. “Dana.”

  His sword flashed and he jerked upright with a startled yell. I pulled back to avoid being skewered.

  “Hey, take it easy!” I hissed, darting a glance about the cave to see if anyone had been aroused by his outburst.

  Recognition played in his expression, and he lowered his sword. “I’m sorry, just…” He sat up fully, calming his breathing. “Just dreaming.”

  I study him. Obviously not dreaming.

  He evaded my gaze and rose, straightening his cloak. “Are we ready?”

  I stood, also. “I am. Are you?”

  He sheathed his sword, giving a firm nod. “Aye. Let us free our comrades, then.”

  That was as good an answer as I had time to get at that moment, so I led the way out of the cave.  My footsteps made a gentle sound on the grass, and his slightly heavier behind me. The weight of RuneBinder in its sheathe on my back became more distinct as I thought of our mission ahead. We entered the cave across from the one we’d just left, and moved silently amongst the sleeping soldiers there towards the back, where the cave narrowed into a tunnel that slopes upwards. Darkness enveloped us at the first turn, and I navigated the tunnel by memory, running my hand along the wall as I walked. I listened to ensure Dana remained close. I guessed he did the same to keep from running into anything.

  Up ahead, the sound of running water drifted into the passageway. The tunnel opened into a cavern riddled with stalactites and stalagmites. A mixture of bluish light and luminescent green light flickered along the walls from both an opening in the ceiling, and the glow-moss that lined the bottom of the river. The river itself was located fifty feet from the tunnel opening, fed by a waterfall cascading from a hole high on the right wall. It flowed at a steady pace into the yawning blackness of another, much larger tunnel.

  Dana took a deep breath, and murmured, “Good, we’re going the right way.”

  I glanced at him. “I hope you don’t mind boat rides in the darkness.”

  The boat in question rocked on the surface of the water; a skiff, moored to an outcropping of rock.

  Dana eyed it. “As long as it goes better than the last time you piloted a boat.”

  “That wasn’t my fault.” I climbed into the skiff, moving to sit by the rudder.

  “Maybe,” He stepped in, as well. “But I still remember three sailors going swimming when we rounded anchor point. And not voluntarily, either.”

  I remembered that as well.

  “I have no comment.”

  I untied the rope, and let the skiff drift into the current, which caught it and pulled it along deeper into the cavern tunnel. In the dank atmosphere, Dana pulled his hood up and drew his cloak about him. He drew his sword and a whetstone, beginning to slide one against the other to sharpen the edge of the blade, but as the sound echoed in the chamber, he stopped and sheathed his weapon once more.  I gave him a questioning glance.

  He shrugged. “Habit.”

  I returned my attention to the course ahead, my hand on the tiller. The darkness closed in, though this time instead of becoming completely black, a faint light could be seen at the far end where the tunnel opened once more. I guided the craft towards it.

  “Travel this often?” Dana asked after a time.

  “I’ve done it once fully,” I replied. “And once part way.”

  “Part way?”

  “There’s another stop just up ahead. It was going to be our regrouping point, should we need it. This river leads all the way out of the mountain, though.”

  As I spoke, we glided into the cavern in question, much larger than the first. Several skiffs akin to the one we occupied bobbed up and down by their moorings. They’d been left there after our last evacuation drill, but tomorrow some of the soldiers were meant to come and transfer them back to the first cavern. By then I hoped Dana and I would have our skiff back for them to use.

  Above us, a winding opening ran along the cavern ceiling, letting in the light. The water reflected like stars on the stalactites, and the sound of dripping water whispered through the air.

  The river forked. I turned the tiller to take us down the right branch. The ceiling grew lower once more, and the light lessened. A draft of fresh air wafted over us from ahead, and the water rippled silently in the wake of the bow.

  My thoughts drifted to the events of the previous month. I had avoided allowing my mind to linger over the details of the battle – or rather, retreat – at Campbell’s castle, but now I couldn’t help it. So many men had died because of the treachery of one. While it might not cost us the war, it still made an impact. I hadn’t even been able to see Percy and Seph when I got the order to retreat. They’d sent a messenger, and I just…

  I caught Dana’s glance out of the corner of my eye before he looked ahead again. “Our loss wasn’t your fault, you know.”

  I watched his back for a moment, realizing I had been frowning. Sometimes I wished my expressions didn’t show my feelings so obviously. Though at other times, I knew that could be a good thing. At least it meant I didn’t lie very well.

  “I know.” I replied at last.

  Neither of us spoke again.

  Ten minutes later, we glided into the open air. Behind us towered the mountain, and a thick forest lined the banks of the river. Abandoning my ponderings, I veered the boat against the riverbank, snagged the rope lying at my feet, and jumped out. Dana waited until I secured the mooring line around a nearby tree before climbing onto dry land, as well.

  “Best to hide it.” He said, reaching down and hauling the bow onto the grass. “We’re nearer the castle, and the patrols go wider than you might think.”

  I came to assist him. “We can sink it, and then haul it up when we need it again.”

  “In sunlight, that water is too clear to hide anything well.”

  “As you say.” I grasped the side of the boat and heaved until we got the boat out of the water, and amongst the forest underbrush well out of sight to anyone who passed by.

  “Besides,” He said, straightening and adjusting his cloak once again. “I’d rather not get my boots wet when we don’t’ have to just yet. Shall we?”

  I chuckled under my breath and headed along the bank, but my mirth faded with each step closer to Campbell’s castle that we took.
 

---------

Note: You'll have to bear with me. I'm still trying to figure out how to keep these segments short, but still interesting, and leaving the readers wanting to read more. I'm also working on the prose; it's a slightly different dynamic transferring skype history to prose format rather than just writing prose right from my head. Feedback is definitely appreciated on both scores.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Shameless Advertising and A Bit of Fun

By now all my friends are going "What, you're posting this somewhere else?" Let's just say that when I find -- and especially make -- something, I'm very keen to share it with everyone. So that's my excuse.

This here is a voice acting clip for LBT that a fellow writer kindly did for me. I adore it, as evidenced by the fact that this is the fourth or fifth time I've posted it somewhere. At least I don't have Facebook.

 



Alright, now for the bit of fun. This is a video my friend Katana Kaine sent me the other day, and I laughed so hard.

That's it for now. I'm working on the third section of For The Greatest Good, but I've been sick lately, so it's not going very quickly. Bear with me, though. It'll come.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Friday Music Post #9

I swear I'm losing track of what numbers to make these posts....

Anyway, here is a lovely Chinese flute instrumental. It has a wistful longing feel to it, laced with a sense of resignation.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Saturday Legend Post #9 -- The Six Swans

The fairy tale story of The Six Swans has always been one that I've admired. I'd tell you why, but I'd rather just show you.

It begins like any self respecting fairy tale with "Once upon a time...."

Once upon a time, a certain King was hunting in a great forest, and he chased a wild beast so eagerly that none of his attendants could follow him. When evening drew near he stopped and looked around him, and then he saw that he had lost his way. He sought a way out, but could find none. Then he perceived an aged woman with a head which nodded perpetually, who came towards him, but she was a witch. "Good woman," said he to her, "Can you not show me the way through the forest?" "Oh, yes, Lord King," she answered, "that I certainly can, but on one condition, and if you do not fulfil that, you will never get out of the forest, and will die of hunger in it."
"What kind of condition is it?" asked the King.
"I have a daughter," said the old woman, "who is as beautiful as any one in the world, and well deserves to be your consort, and if you will make her your Queen, I will show you the way out of the forest." In the anguish of his heart the King consented, and the old woman led him to her little hut, where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She received the King as if she had been expecting him, and he saw that she was very beautiful, but still she did not please him, and he could not look at her without secret horror. After he had taken the maiden up on his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and the King reached his royal palace again, where the wedding was celebrated.

Ah, but this new queen was beautiful, but wicked. The King had seven children from a previous marriage -- six sons and a daughter -- and out of fear for their well being, he moved them to a castle hidden deep in a forest. However, the wicked queen -- who, not surprisingly, is also a witch -- eventually discovered the castle. She sewed enchanted silk jackets, and rode to the castle without the king's knowledge. When the six sons rushed out, thinking the rider was their father, she threw the jackets over them, and they turned into swans and flew away.

The Queen went home quite delighted, and thought she had got rid of her step-children, but the girl had not run out with her brothers, and the Queen knew nothing about her. Next day the King went to visit his children, but he found no one but the little girl. "Where are thy brothers?' asked the King. "Alas, dear father," she answered, "they have gone away and left me alone!" and she told him that she had seen from her little window how her brothers had flown away over the forest in the shape of swans, and she showed him the feathers, which they had let fall in the courtyard, and which she had picked up.

 Though deeply distraught, the king did not think to suspect his wife of this evil deed. Afraid he might lose his last remaining child, he wanted to take his daughter back with him to the castle, but she begged him to allow her to stay one last night in the forest castle. The king finally consented, and returned home.

The poor girl thought, "I can no longer stay here. I will go and seek my brothers." And when night came, she ran away, and went straight into the forest. She walked the whole night long, and next day also without stopping, until she could go no farther for weariness. Then she saw a forest-hut, and went into it, and found a room with six little beds, but she did not venture to get into one of them, but crept under one, and lay down on the hard ground, intending to pass the night there. Just before sunset, however, she heard a rustling, and saw six swans come flying in at the window. They alighted on the ground and blew at each other, and blew all the feathers off, and their swan's skins stripped off like a shirt. Then the maiden looked at them and recognized her brothers, was glad and crept forth from beneath the bed. The brothers were not less delighted to see their little sister, but their joy was of short duration. "Here canst thou not abide," they said to her. "This is a shelter for robbers, if they come home and find thee, they will kill thee." "But can you not protect me?" asked the little sister. "No," they replied, "only for one quarter of an hour each evening can we lay aside our swan's skins and have during that time our human form; after that, we are once more turned into swans." The little sister wept and said, "Can you not be set free?" "Alas, no," they answered, "the conditions are too hard! For six years thou mayst neither speak nor laugh, and in that time thou must sew together six little shirts of starwort for us. And if one single word falls from thy lips, all thy work will be lost." And when the brothers had said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they flew out of the window again as swans.

 Ah, so here we have our dillemma. Is such a feat even possible? Is this a story of triumph, or a cautionary tale?

But look here; this has to be my favorite line, and favorite section, in the entire story.

The maiden, however, firmly resolved to deliver her brothers, even if it should cost her her life. She left the hut, went into the midst of the forest, seated herself on a tree, and there passed the night. Next morning she went out and gathered starwort and began to sew. She could not speak to any one, and she had no inclination to laugh; she sat there and looked at nothing but her work.

That right there is what love looks like. Now, will she be able to fulfill her quest, or no?

When she had already spent a long time there it came to pass that the King of the country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came to the tree on which the maiden was sitting. They called to her and said, "Who art thou?" But she made no answer. "Come down to us," said they. "We will not do thee any harm." She only shook her head. As they pressed her further with questions she threw her golden necklace down to them, and thought to content them thus. They, however, did not cease,

So now our heroine is in a quandry. The huntsman retrieved her down from the tree and presented her to the king, who, like many fairy tale men, fell in love with ber because she was so beautiful.

As she was so beautiful, the King's heart was touched, and he was smitten with a great love for her. He put his mantle on her, took her before him on his horse, and carried her to his castle. Then he caused her to be dressed in rich garments, and she shone in her beauty like bright daylight, but no word could be drawn from her. He placed her by his side at table, and her modest bearing and courtesy pleased him so much that he said, "She is the one whom I wish to marry, and no other woman in the world." And after some days he united himself to her.

Still the young maiden never spoke, and continued steadfastly on her task to save her brothers. It seems she has no luck with mothers, however, for the King's mother did not like her, and spread, lies, and planted evidence to convince the people and the king that the young queen was a witch. It took some time, but at last the wicked mother's scheme succeeded, for her victim refused to speak a word in self defense. Thus she was sentenced to be burned at the stake.

When the day came for the sentence to be executed, it was the last day of the six years during which she was not to speak or laugh, and she had delivered her dear brothers from the power of the enchantment. The six shirts were ready, only the left sleeve of the sixth was wanting. When, therefore, she was led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm, and when she stood on high and the fire was just going to be lighted, she looked around and six swans came flying through the air towards her. Then she saw that her deliverance was near, and her heart leapt with joy. The swans swept towards her and sank down so that she could throw the shirts over them, and as they were touched by them, their swan's skins fell off, and her brothers stood in their own bodily form before her, and were vigorous and handsome. The youngest only lacked his left arm, and had in the place of it a swan's wing on his shoulder. They embraced and kissed each other, and the Queen went to the King, who was greatly moved, and she began to speak and said, "Dearest husband, now I may speak and declare to thee that I am innocent, and falsely accused." And she told him of the treachery of the old woman who had taken away her three children and hidden them. Then to the great joy of the King they were brought thither, and as a punishment, the wicked step-mother was bound to the stake, and burnt to ashes. But the King and the Queen with their six brothers lived many years in happiness and peace.

I think the theme of this story is pretty obvious. The young maiden's love for her brothers very nearly cost her her life, but she was more than willing to let that be so rather than abandon them to their fate while there was still even the smallest thing she could do for them. Even if she had been killed, I don't think she would have regretted it so long as her brothers were freed.

Love and loyalty. My favorites.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Percy's Forge - Latest Inventions

Though I have done a miserable job of chronincling it, Percy has certainly not left his forge idle in the past couple of months. Indeed, quite the opposite, I'm excited to say. I always knew he was one for putting things together and so forth, and this PVC weapon making seems to have taken a firm hold of his imagination and creativity.

I bought him the red tassle from Jo-Ann's.

First he made the spear. It's a fairly easy design, which I have given the dimensions for in the post before this one, but cool noentheless. He and I actually started choreographing a fight scene between a spearman and a swordfighter. At present it is far too hot to go outside and continue it, but I'm sure we'll pick up again at a later date.

Then, a little bit ago we watched the 2002 version of The Count of Monte Cristo. I personally really like that version (minus a couple of scenes for obvious reasons). The acting, cinematography, and especially the swordfights are all great. Soon after watching it, Percy decided he wanted to come up with a PVC Rapier design, and spent quite a bit of time contemplating how to do this before we actually went to Home Depot and bought the pieces he'd decided he needed. I must admit the result impressed me more than I thought it would.

Percy's first rapier.



Blue crusader coloring.

Obviously the basket hilt was the only hilt Percy could make using PVC. At least at the moment, with the tools he has. The one in the picture has the one and a half inch rim on the hilt, but he made another one where he sawed that rim off. Unfortunately, that one sufffered an accident (*cough*Seph.*cough*) and cannot make an appearance at the moment.

So! While we were on vacation, Percy taught Dana how to make some of the basic PVC swords, and in the process forged a broadsword. Since none of us really needed another weapon, he decided to have fun with the duct tape design on it. At the same time, Dana got creative with his sword's coloring, as well. However, I haven't gotten pictures of Dana's sword yet (or the Lance-Blade, another sword variant I'll discuss later), but if I can remember, I'll do it tonight.

And now for my favorite. I was browsing pinterest some while ago when I came across a tutorial for how to make a "Brave Little Miss PVC Bow and Arrow." It consisted of a very small, simple bow made of PVC that fired dowel rods tipped with giant wads of foam in the shape of arrowheads. Yeah. I told Percy about it anyways, he did a very brief perusal of the how-to, then went off and came up with his own design. Once again, I confess to not have had as much faith in his abilities as I should have. The bow he made not only looks awesome, but actually fires. I have an awesome little brother.

He's still figuring out how to make arrows that will fly straight, but I've learned my lesson by now and have no doubt he'll have a working prototype soon. There's a video I found on youtube for how to make functioning arrows for a modern recurve, so he's going to look into that. Plus I need to figure out (or ask Lynn to) how to make a quiver for when he learns how to do the arrows.

Have no fear! If and when he makes another bow, I'm GOING to make a tutorial for it because it's too cool for me not to. I'll do the same thing for the rapier, as well. Promise.

The stack of PVC weaponry in the corner of the boys' chambers is growing in both number and diversity. When we move back up to Illinois near the forest preserve, we are going to have a full arsenal for our Imagination Games.

I can't wait.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Percy's Forge -- Sword Variant Dimensions

So, yeah, I've done an awful job keeping up with chronicling Percy's inventions. But at any rate, here are the dimensions for the sword variants that can be made using the tutorial I posted up here a while ago.

Claymore

Blade - 39"

Hilt - 1'

Crossguard - 6" each

Wanderblade

(large arming sword)

Blade - 32" or 33"

Hilt - 9"

Crossguard - 3" each

Straight Sword

Blade - 26"

Hilt - 5"

Crossguard - 3" each

Short Sword

Blade - 18"

Hilt - 5"

Crossguard - 3" each

Spear

(can be made the same way as a sword)

Blade - 1'

Handle - 5'

Crossguard 2" each

I'll have pictures of the spear in my next post, as well as pictures of some of Percy's latest weaponry inventions.

Dia duit,

~Penny



Rosie's Library -- Book List #1

Rosie wishes she had a library like this in real life.

Here is Rosie's first book list. She completed it the other night, and I'm posting it here.


The Goose Girl
By Shannon Hale (Book 1 of the Books of Bayern)

The False Prince
By Jennifer A. Nielson (Book 1 in the Ascendance Trilogy)

Death Trap
By Sigmund Brouwer (Book 1 in the Robot Wars series)

Called
By Hannah Mills

Dragon's Egg
By Sarah L. Thomson

Dia duit,
~Penny

Friday Music #8 -- Wild Mountain Thyme sung by Penny

I just finished recording this song, Will Ye Go Lassie Go, and posted it to youtube. It's not the best version I've done, as the microphone I like was having issues at the time I recorded this. But I wanted to record it, so I just did it anyways.

So there's your Friday music. In case it starts to drive you mad, yes, the picture is in fact moving.

Dia duit,
~Penny

Saturday Legend Post -- Korean Myths

Man, writing 'Saturday Legend Post' looks so weird.

Anyway, I found a fun site that has a bunch of short blips on Korean Myths. I'm poking through it to find some of the more interesting -- and less strange -- ones to put up here. I personally have always found myths to be interesting. I used to love Greek and Egyption mythology, though now the blatant immorality annoys me enough to make me less of a fan as I might have been. Bible stories are exciting enough, anyways, and also true.

Anyway, I still like looking thorugh myths now and then. Mythology really does give one significant insight to the culture and mindset of the people who created these myths in the first place. I and my family lived in Korea for a couple of years, and I've been doing a lot of British, Scottish, and Irish legends already, so I decided to hop over to the Land of the Morning Sun for a bit.

Dragon Carp
In Korean mythology, a poor fisherman once caught a gigantic carp but he set it free when it begged for mercy. Later it turned out the be the son of the Dragon-King, the ruler of the Ocean, who rewarded the fisherman richly.
Carps are revered in Japan and Korea as the symbol of youth, bravery, perseverance, strength, and self-defense; all qualities much admired, especially in warriors. The Koreans also regard it as a symbol of wealth. The Dragon Carp lived for a thousand years.

Samseong Myth
This myth tells of the first settlement on Cheju Island, located off the southern coast of the Korean Peninsula. In the beginning, before any people roamed the land, three demi-gods (Yangeulla, Koeulla, Pueulla) emerged from the ground. They wandered through the land and hunted, making clothes from the skins and subsisting on the meat. One day they discovered a large wooden chest on the eastern shore of the island. They opened up the chest and a messenger wearing a purple robe and red belt emerged. Also in the chest was a stone box, and inside were three girls wearing blue clothing, a calf, a colt, and the five grains (barley, rice, soybean, foxtail millet, and millet; in Korean folk literature these five grains represent all of agriculture).
The messenger announced that they had been sent from Byeongnang (some sources indicate that the messenger and girls came from Japan, which makes geographical sense). The king of that land had sent the girls to be the brides of the three demi-gods. After delivering his message, the messenger returned to his land on a cloud. The three demi-gods each married and went their separate ways, founding each their own village.

Tangun
The legendary founder of the first Korean kingdom, Old Choseon, in 2333 BCE near modern P'yeongyang. His full name was Tangun Wanggeom, which is actually more of a title than a name; Tangun means "high priest" and Wanggeom means "king," symbolizing the spiritual and political power invested in the ruler. His father was Hwanung, son of Hwanin, emperor of heaven, and his mother was a bear who had been transformed into a woman. It has been speculated that the bear-woman transformation story indicates that the woman was from a bear totem clan. On a more symbolic level, though, the bear's passing of the test shows how highly early Koreans valued perseverance. It was not the strength and impetuosity of the tiger that helped the Korean people resist attacks from both China and Japan, but the determination and perseverance of the bear.

Heo Hwangok
First Queen of Kaya. According to legend, while Hwangok was a princess in Ayuta (in central India) she had a dream of King Suro. In her dream she learned that Suro had not yet found a queen, and both her parents agreed that she should go and become Suro's bride. She arrived in Kaya on a ship with a red sail and red flag, bearing treasure and gifts. When she was presented to the king she told him of her dream and the king knew immediately that this was heaven's chosen bride for him. They were married immediately, and the queen was greatly loved by all the people.

[all exerpts taken from http://www.pantheon.org/areas/mythology/asia/korean/articles.html]

I'd look up something more adventurous and action packed, but I am, in fact, sick. And life doesn't have to be all explosions and swordfights, right?

Dia duit,
~Penny

PS
Here's the music for yesterday.

Real Magic

Magic

/'majik/ (n.) When the wonder of the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; the complex beauty that cannot be explained as of this world fully, but also of another.

To deny God's design in creation is to deny magic, and without magic, life is a dull and dissatisfying thing. Without magic, there is no wonder, no intrigue, no curiosity, no adventure. Without magic, what is life but a bothersome span of time between birth and death?

I wrote that in my notebook while we were on vacation. I'd gone down to the little patch of woods next to the MacDonald house and sat right in the middle of it, leaning back against the trunk of a large tree. It was early morning, and the sunlight shone through the treetops, softly lighting the colors of the trees, bushes, and dirt path not far from where I sat. I ran my fingers through the loose dirt beside an exposed root, and tilted my head to listen to the breeze rustling the leaves and the birdsongs filtering through the air. I've always loved forests for this reason. The calming yet inspiring atmosphere has magic. You can't explain that feeling by pinpointing the one thing that makes a forest so wonderful. It's everything together, and everything together makes it more than any one of those elements could be alone. Greater than the sum of its parts. Magic.

Ocular Athletes

(n.) People who have trained their eyes to see the wonder around us.

(definition given by Mark Wilson at the OYAN 2012 Summer Workshop.)

Have a little curiosity and look for the magic.

Dia duit,

~Penny