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Getting the Rust Off

          It seems that in my rush to get back on track, I let a lot of typos slip through my last two articles. I have gone back and changed what was glaring, though I am glad to see people found it useful in spite of the raw form. Let that be a lesson in “haste making waste”. While I may not return to regular posting (as that is something I have not managed to date), I am working to ensure that quality, proofread articles are more frequent.

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Mirror, Mirror

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Mirror, Mirror, In the Dark
To light a fire I need a spark
I need a candle to light the way
To see me to the break of day
The path I walk, on hidden ground
The air, too cold to feel around
In fear, I work to make it bright
To grant shelter, warmth, and light
To see me to my humble goal
I ignite a bit of my precious soul
For an instant, in a flash
The Mirror gleams, and then a crash
To broken fragments do I reach
The pieces still do lessons teach
An edge too sharp breeds a wicked cut
A surge of pain to break the minds’ old rut
From the wound a gout of blood
And from the eyes, tears fall and flood
The easy answer now broke apart
To be pieced together with a solemn heart
Because Mirror, for an instant I could see
The answer revealed was no more than Me

The Beast Within – Marks VIII

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~To become Immortal and wield Blue Magic, you must first consider: What is Destiny?~

          The twilight leading into the morning slowly grew lighter. The stars in the night sky were swallowed up by the suns’ light as it peered more and more over the horizon. The sea sparkled in kind with its own hued light. A corridor of magic opened on a path along the upper walls of Whitegate, the tension of the weaving a blink of an otherwise easy sunrise. In this space, in the dead of morning, the city slept. No one saw the ornately garbed Immortal set foot onto the stones, heard the gold soled bottoms of his charuq as they landed upon his adopted home. The only souls to bear witness were those housed by Seraph himself, power gathered across his travels.
          Unable to help himself, he lost himself to the memories of arrival in this foreign city and how the warm stones first greeted him. Of the enigmatic soothsayer who, instead of revealing the tapestry of fate, caused the Elvaan to seize it. Of the hands that had borne him up, of those whose grasp he evaded, and those who gave a push but were missing…
          What seemed like it was just a few moments in time had spanned hours. A boat had drawn into port, and fresh faced adventurers could be seen stepping into Aht Urhgan for their first time. One of them, taking the whole of the city in noticed watchful eyes from above. Gaining the attention of their compatriots, the collective gaze of the group went upward. Even Seraph’s hearing did not extend from this far. But…

          “…Immortal…”

          All the workers at the dock turned their eyes upward.

          “Guardian of the Empress…”

          Seraph had been away too long as to be mindful of what his attire represented. For him, it was a means to an end. To focus a torrent-swelled river to an intended course. For the people of Aht Urhgan…

          …was he guardian?

          …protector…?

          …Beast to be put down?

          He proceeded along the upper pathways of the city. The attentiveness followed him. A mix of awe and terror seeped out of the mouths of children. As Seraph descended a set of stairs, parents shooed away their charges as subtly as they could. Approaching one of the guards of the city, they straightened up considerably. So ornate the unique cloth, purple and white, spilling out from leather armor while brandishing spears. All things in Whitegate that were simple in the Middle Lands of home were lush and ornate in the Near East. Seraph requested Sanction, special dispensation granted to mercenaries from the Middle Lands, which stirred confusion within the guard. ‘What high and mighty Immortal need suffer the permissions of commoners when favored by the Empress?‘ they must have wondered. Seraph proceeded toward The Imperial Whitegate, a structure that shared its name with the city, which was ornate and wrought with gold as the least expensive of the metals in it. The monolithic wall housed the seat of power of the Empire of Aht Urhgan. When last he came here it was to to accept his next mission as one of the Empresses’ favored soldiers.

          Now it was time to continue to walk along the path he had chosen.

          Under the eyes of more soldiers, ever vigilant, Seraph laid his hands on the archway which would take him to the palace. It was cold and unyielding.

          The time was here.

          The Justice one seeks will be branded as Vengeance by another. Seraph would not sleep until these scales were balanced. Under his hands, the gate began to open. The guards were called to attention. Seraph’s being, one soul fueled by one hundred and twelve more, focused their collective into one word. One name. One sound which would open the floodgates within him and spill wrath, wreck, and ruin upon the world.

          “Raubahn.”

          So much led to this point. His recent life, in an instant, came to the forefront of Seraph’s mind. What was the word Waoud had chosen so short yet so long ago…?

~ What is destiny?”~
~“It is what one must decide for oneself.”~

Transformations – Marks VII

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Disclaimer – 28 December 2017

          Much like anyone who has developed a skill I cringe looking back on earlier works. I know this work will be a hard to read and is not formatted in the best way. However my writings past, present, and future will all be made with the same heart and spirit. I love writing. I love sharing what I make. I take pride in all the works I produce. This is simply from my earlier days. Back then, I didn’t know what I was going to make out of this blogging gig. So I wrote, and I posted. If I got hung up on it being perfect, I never would have shared it.

          Since then I’ve read and learned. The results that came from 150% effort in the past come from 30% now. That is just how growth works.

          I may come back and edit this one day to bring it in line with my present standards. This is likely if my written works prove to earn my daily bread. Or if I have no pending articles (ha) and find myself bored. Still, I would not have made it where I am without this stepping stone, humble as it is.

This said, none-the-less, I hope you enjoy reading this offering.

Jasper H.B. a.k.a. zerohourseraphim

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