~ Word of the Day ~

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

vaticination
noun vuh-tiss-uh-NAY-shun

Definition
1 : something foretold : prediction
2 : the act of prophesying

[Thete]

'That's absurd.'
'What? What's absurd?'
'You've spelt vaccination wrong.'
'What? Vaccination?
'Seriously. You've spelt it wrong, and you've used it in utterly the wrong context. I knew you were an alien, but this is barbaric. I thought you were supposed to be super intelligent?'

His face was blank. None of her words were going in. Mostly, he was just staring at her as if she was daft. To be fair, she was a human. She had to be a little daft. And then she did also run away with a madman in a box,
so she had to be more than a little daft, too.
Such things were not to be questioned.
Or probably should be questioned, but he lacked the care or desire to do so. Especially in this current state.

With one of those grins that parents give to children when they're adamant about something, but are usually so very wrong, the Doctor put his book down, and approached her. Her finger was pointing to a line in an incredibly old book.
Where she'd found it was a question for another day.

And oh.

'Bill.' He sighed, taking the book from her. 'Oh, Bill. Wonderful, lovely, silly Bill.'
'What? You're going to come up with some ridiculous reason why you're right and I'm wrong, aren't you? You're supposed to be a professor!'
Well.
Yes.
He grinned.
'It's a bit of an underused word, but you're reading it wrong. I mean, fair is fair. Some of the lettering has been scrubbed off, but you're still wrong. I'm still right. This actually says vaticination. This book? It's a brief history of the storm on Jupiter, and how it's believed to be an ancient God who vowed, after the people who lived their ransacked the land, prophesied that it would be inhabitable for centuries upon centuries. It's a religion in some places. Just fantasy on others.'
'...Oh.'

[Beautiful Mystery]

"I am not sure I understand. Why is there a panda?" She asked curiously.

"Why wouldn't there be a panda? After all, it is a zoo. What, have you never been to one before?" The man replied.

There was a short pause before an exaggerated roll of the woman's eyes. "Oh no, this is my first time!" She shot back, the sarcasm dripping from her words.

"You don't have to be such a jerk about it you know." He muttered before furrowing his eyebrows. "Wait a minute... that isn't a panda..." He explained.

The young woman looked back to the animal that was suddenly morphed into a black jaguar. The jaguar stalked around in its cage, eyes stalking the woman. Within seconds,
the animal rushed towards the edge of the cage. It pounced against the metal mesh, claws somehow reaching through to hook into her cotton shirt.

The woman screamed, feeling her body being pulled towards the large cat as she struggled to pull backward...

She suddenly sat up in bed, heart pounding in her chest. Her body was clammy, skin cool to the touch despite the fact she was currently under a large down comforter. She inhaled a shaky breath, placing her head into her hands. The man next to her stirred, cracking one eye open to look at her.

"What is wrong?" He asked, rather groggy as his right eye still remained shut.

"Nightmare..." She muttered, inhaling another deep breath.

"Well, it is over. It wasn't real. Try to get some sleep. Long day tomorrow." He mentioned, rolling back over and going back to sleep.

She took a few moments to gather herself before she laid back down. She perpended about the dream, going over it in her mind several times. She had always heard that dreams or nightmares were trying to tell you something. But what could this dream be telling her? Maybe it was a vaticination of their trip to the zoo later that day... Oh, she hoped not. A panda suddenly turning into a jaguar that tried to grab her? That stuff only happened in TV shows. With a small shake of her head, her eyes closed again.

[Marek]

As they scurried down a quaint side street in the ancient city, Meghan scowled at the full clouds in the gray skies, wondering how the English weather could be so thoughtless. Was there no mercy or consideration given for those on the trip of their dreams? Must it rain every day?

With a sideways glance at her companion, she thought wryly about how that dream trip abroad had already largely fallen apart, and she knew that she normally would have been charmed by the rain. Marc was a successful attorney she met back home in Boston, and they had been dating long enough for her to readily accept his invitation to accompany him to York for a week. New England had never felt like 'home' to her, and in her mind going to England was like a pilgrimage to where she was really meant to be. Over the first couple days of their trip, however, her suspicions about him were confirmed: the man was pretty, and rich, but an insufferable, judgmental ass that she couldn't wait to be rid of. With a sigh, she knew she would have to end it when they got home, something she was never good at even with considerable practice.

"Why are men so threatened by the idea of a woman that knows things?", she thought to herself. Though she had been upfront about her beliefs from the start, Marc could never quite accept the idea that 'his woman' believed herbs could heal and crystals had power. They had argued yesterday over just this topic, and Meghan was still annoyed - not in small part due to the bruise still forming on her upper arm where he had grabbed her in anger.

If the Yorkshire weather was uncooperative, the layout of her city was making up for it, and Meghan smiled mischievously at the stroke of luck. The weathered shop sign ahead read 'Vaticination, Auguries, and Fine Teas'. Marc's confused look confirmed that he read it as only 'Another English Tea Shop'.

"In here? I'm good with warm tea and no rain for a bit."

Marc nodded his agreement. "Sounds good. Maybe they have some food too."

In they bustled, and Meghan's delight was evident as she watched Marc take it all in. The idea of him suffering a tad was rapidly growing on her, and his sneer as he saw the quaint shop's interior told her both that it was working, and that he deserved it.

"Damn, it's as bad as your place," he said under his breath, earning him a hard look of disapproval from Meghan.

Jumbled stacks of books adorned shelves behind a worn counter, and there were dozens of mismatched jars with herbs and various teas in a massive cabinet that looked older than her country. A framed, cross-stitched sign on the wall portrayed intricate script that Marc couldn't begun to decipher, but which Meghan easy read with a smile. She closed her eyes briefly and inclined her head at the blessing, a gesture not unnoticed by the shopkeep.

"Welcome, my dear. Sir. I'm Louise. Two for tea, and readings?" The woman was warmth personified, her smile genuine, and she reminded Meghan of her own grandmother. Everything about her said 'I'm wise, and kind, and make amazing cookies'.

Before Marc could open his mouth and spoil the moment with one of his dismissive comments, Meghan quickly nodded. "Yes, please, on both counts. My name is Meghan, and this is Marc. We'd be honored." Her look to him told him that this was not a negotiable part of their day.

"Yeah, sure", Marc added unenthusiastically, though it was clear he was going along begrudgingly. "Umm, how long do these 'readings' of yours take, though? Plenty of town to see still."

Meghan cringed at the disrespect, and her eyes blazed angrily as she glared at him to knock it off.

If Louise noticed Marc's transgression, she didn't let it show. "Perhaps 30 minutes at the most, and we'll be done by the time you finish your tea." She eyed Meghan thoughtfully, as if sizing her up.

"You my darling, I think you're Diana's blend. Good black tea, with a few added treats. As a matter of fact, I'll join you in one." Louise seemed pleased by Meghan's knowing nod at the name Diana, and began measuring their tea from a cobalt blue jar before adding the water.

"And for sir... Hmmm. Something more interesting for a strong fellow like you." Louise's features were a model of kindness as she glanced at her newfound sister. "Yes, something more Left Path seems the trick." Oblivious and impatient, Marc shrugged his agreement.

Meghan blinked once, the soft hairs on her arm just beginning to stir, and she was stunned to find herself slowly nodding. "Yes. I suppose you're right. That sounds.. Lovely. How did you know?"

Louise winked at Meghan as she bustled about, spooning out a fragrant tea for Marc from a pale green porcelain jar she had pulled from under the counter. "Woman's intuition", she said as she filled the cup with water.

The teas complete, she presented each of her guests with the blend she had prepared for them. They all drank, and Meghan found her spirits lifting with each sip.

"So my sweet child, once this is over - as I said, no more than 30 minutes - will you be staying long in York? There's so much for you to learn here, and I'd love to teach you."

Meghan looked over to Marc, his eyes growing unfocused as old, old magic began to do its work.

"Why, yes, I believe I will. And thank you, for the tea and... Everything."

As if on cue, Marc's eyes closed. Louise hummed to herself as she drew the shades and flipped the sign to 'Closed' before teacher and student began tidying up.

[Sofia Grace]

Today's word of the day is....

ignoble
noun ig-NOH-bul

Definition
1 : of low birth or common origin : plebeian
2 : characterized by baseness, lowness, or meanness

[Beautiful Mystery]

Today's word of the day is...

brachiate
verb BRAY-kee-ayt

Definition
1 : to progress by swinging from hold to hold by the arms

[Jazra]

Frustrated when she couldn’t get a second Uber driver, Aasa cursed.

Ebby laughed. “You do realize that your Uber rating has to be below four?”

She glanced over and down with a look of surprise. “I’m a perfect passenger.”

Ebby shrugged. “If you spell ‘perfect’ with the letters U S U C K, then I agree.” Aasa snarled and snapped her fingers in his direction without visible effect.

“Fingers wet?” Ebby asked snidely, trying not to giggle.

“We’re taking the broom," she said while furtively drying her fingers. Aasa then snapped them again. This time, the muscular, good looking bearded dwarf vanished to be replaced by a large and unhappy black cat, which lifted his paws in distress and glanced with dismay at the nasty damp world.

Aasa did a little dance. “Don’t like the icky rain my sweet,” she said with a giggle before bending over and picking up her familiar. “I’ll summon us an umbrella,” she promised when Ebby gave a plaintive cry. Snapping her fingers, she caused a beautiful Japanese rice paper umbrella to appear. She sighed as it proceeded to fall apart in the rain. Ignoring any, arguably mocking, sounds from Ebby, she snapped her fingers again and brought forth a clear raincoat.

A moment later, the intrepid pair were off flying forty feet or so above the street, invisible to non-magical eyes. “Oh you inogble beast,” she muttered under her breath. “Couldn’t you have reached out and stopped that dratted driver from just running off.” Just then, she spotted the driver jogging down the middle street (headed presumably to Gymir under the power of the geas she had earlier cast).

Ebby meowed.

“Yes, I'll admit he’s fit for an Uber drive,” she muttered, “but he’s not exactly brachiating through the trees like Tarzan.” Glancing down at an unhappily damp Ebby, she shook her head. “Keep your claws in your paws or I have a vaticination that you’ll spend more time in the all things are possible state than you want to think about.

She swept her Sweeper Swiffer in a sharp downward motion as the driver left the middle of the street and veered up onto the sidewalk. “Looks like he’s getting close,” she grinned viciously.

[Ariel]

Today's word of the day is...

gimcrack
noun JIM-krak

Definition
1 : a showy object of little use or value

[King Serperior]

"Come!  Come!  Come and gather 'round, my fellows, my ladies, and even you scruffy folk over there!  Come and see the great Crozak, the Unbelievable!"

The booming voice of the strange-looking fellow who stood over two feet in the air atop a stack of hastily placed crates rippled across the marketplace, attracting the attention of everyone who had never seen such a sight before.  In the town of Riversdale, the marketplace was the common meeting grounds for traders, travelers, and townsfolk alike.  Being the only resting stop between two larger cities, travel in and out of the town was always happening day and night.  Such traffic brought in all kinds of people from basic travelers to merchants and their caravans to even some of the stranger people.  None of them were stranger than the individual who arrived two days ago and seemed to set up shop in one of the corners of the marketplace.

For those of you who have never been to Riversdale, please listen and listen well.  Riversdale is primarily Human, but it does serve as home to some Elves and even an Orc if you would believe it.  Most people who come and go through this town are Dwarves, Humans, Elves, and the occasional Orc or three.  That is not to say that other races aren't seen, no, no, no!  It is simply the fact that other such races are more or less uncommon.  That is why the individual who was trying to attract the attention he sought was attracting more than his fair share today.  It was enough that those who had set up their stands or stood by their wagons to sell their wares would mutter derogatory words towards the one who was stealing away their customers.

Now, you might think that perhaps they are being too harsh, but when you look at the figure and fight the crowds to get a better look, you would see that the individual known as 'Crozak the Unbelievable' was very much unlike anyone else around.  He was of average height and build, but that was where similarities ended because his bright yellow skin glimmered under the light of the sun and his curving horns glinted like gold.  Every smile he made revealed sharpened, serrated teeth not unlike that of a predatory fish and the source of the odd thumps upon the wooden crates would be seen to be made by the cloven hooves where his feet should have been.  Perhaps you nudge a fellow onlooker who was gawking at the sight or maybe you overhear a couple whispering to one another, but you eventually find that this being is a rare breed known as a Tiefling, the so-called 'Demon Touched,' which is a mixed breeding of Human and Demonic bloodlines.

At some unseen, unheard signal, the being now recognized as a Tiefling, 'Crozak the Unbelievable,' clapped his hands together drawing the attention of the gathered crowd below him back to himself, "Greetings, greetings, welcome, welcome!  Today, I have more unbelievable items and devices that would make your everyday lives so much simpler!  You will be amazed at all you can do and all the time you will have as a result!"

With that, the show finally started.  Around the makeshift platform, the ignoble townsfolk seemed to tense in anticipation for the last two days had shown them countless items and devices that wowed and amazed and they wanted to see just what other wonders this being would show them.  Crozak threw his arms out and almost seemed to dance across the hodgepodge platform entrancing his audience with his words and he started to show off his first wondrous item, a pouch of thin, yellow disks that expanded into a full loaf of bread when one dripped a drop of honey on it.  Crozak munificently picked random members of the audience to try this strange and unheard-of wonder and every person who tried this loaf of golden-colored bread claimed it was perfectly light and fluffy, with just the right taste of honey, as if it had just come from the oven.  By that point, the newcomers who had never seen this show appeared more eager and the crowd grew larger as more and more people seemed be perpended by the sights.

By the time the second great wonder was taken out, there seemed to be a distinct watershed between the crowd that had gathered around the Tiefling and the rest of the marketplace.  Despite the air of excitement around the platform, there was a tension in the air of those traveling merchants and shopkeeps from the town in the rest of the marketplace.  Those few remained were muttering among themselves angrily while trying to keep what few people they had interested in what they were selling.  Every time one of the shoppers asked what was going on, some of the town's shopkeeps spoke with heavy sarcasm, "Oh, that's Crozak the Unbelievable, the one person who has better products than anyone in the lands.  He arrived here two days ago and has taken away everything we have!"

This continued throughout the early afternoon and on through the late evening with one device and object after another was shown from candles that don't melt but have far brighter lights to pouches of blue crystals that, when thrown on water, freezes it so one can safely traverse rivers on a thin sheet of ice!  However, oddly enough, not one item was sold despite the surprisingly high demand.  This was the third day in a row that this has happened and the merchants and shopkeeps were getting more and more suspicious.  In the taverns at night, there was talk about this Tiefling and the fact that he never once entered the town proper, always camping outside the marketplace in his wagon.  Most of the suspicions were that he was using trickery.  Little would they know how close to the truth that was.

In reality, Crozak mixed truth and lies with all of his wondrous displays, using minor magical talents on what he sells to the audience such as his instant loaves of bread.  Nearly all of what he showed off were gimcracks, magical doodads designed to inspire and leave an audience in awe.  Of course, Crozak never stays in a place for more than three days because he often ruined the businesses of those he is around for the time he stole their customers from their stands and stalls.  He was still banned from entering the town of Redleaf because of an incident he would rather not go into.

In the end, it was a good trilogy of days for Crozak who believed that scamming everyone around him and stealing the money of other merchants from under their noses and replacing it with a simple Fool's Gold spell, which conjures believable gold that lasts for up to three days, was in line with what his human grandmother's vaticination about him stealing the hearts and minds of everyone and becoming rich doing it.  So, when you wake up tomorrow at the inn and hear the screams and curses of anger at the marketplace drowning out the sad sighs and groans of those who came to expect the shows of Crozak the Unbelievable, you will have been present to what will become a living legend....

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

defile
verb dih-FYLE

Definition
1 : to march off in a line

[Ceralilly]

Shrouded in shadows and secrecy, the lithe figure darted from building top to building top. Sunset bathed the sleepy french town in radiance; a beacon of relief to those hurriedly bustling towards their evening routines, never once bothering to peer upwards. If one did, they might have seen the tip of a cloak whip around the museums ledge just as the last ray of light dispelled.

Though nameless, even faceless, the curious person had one thing and one thing only on their mind. The long lost stone of Azurai.

Years of training, and countless hours of preparation held the purveyor captive with obsessive tenacity. The stone must be returned to it's rightful home, lest the treasure be stripped of it's magic. The longer it stayed in this realm, the weaker it became. A gentle sigh escaped, as finally, they stood face to face with the unimpressive enclosure. Perhaps the museum had hoped to hide the stone within plain sight...

Hues of purple and green incandescence danced across the precious object as it finally rested in hand. However, when the words of awakening were whispered, the stone did not react. Again, they spoke, and again the stone remained silent. Panic welled up, then, replacing the training and the calculated methodology of the one tasked with returning the spirit of their homeland. Perhaps it needed to be in Azurai before it would breathe again, or perhaps it was dead after all, a simple gimcrack to tease the remaining survivors of it's once beautiful home.  Or maybe...a second look provided new hope, perhaps it was indeed a gimcrack used to hide the true stone. It would take a bit of coaxing the elders to spare the magic necessary to test the stone, but perhaps....



(Out of practice, but this was a great exercise, and fun!)

[Jazra]

Aasa felt her heart pound as the Swiffer slowly lowered toward the ground. Ebby’s claws sank in as he braced himself. The shameful truth was Aasa didn’t always land gracefully. She loved her Swiffer Sweeper, because it was so modern and had a beautiful aluminum look. Plus, she never lost bits of straw and twigs. But it didn’t have the balance of the traditional old twig broom that she had used as a child, back when she was merely the eldest daughter of the chieftain and not a thousand-and-then-some years old slightly shabby New York sorceress who at times forgot the old spells.

She grinned. Oh but she had pulled it off this time! The stolen skull of the völva had still held the power of prophecy and foretelling. Aasa had known Gymir would turn up if she followed the visions fostered by the skull. Ebby had laughed at her and called the skull so much gimcrack, and clearly a fake.

“We’ll see who’s a fake now,” she cackled and snapped her fingers while chanting in ancient norse a chant to summon the form of Loki. The black cat shimmered and suddenly, a dark haired, seven foot tall giant of a man appeared where the cat had stood. He looked remarkably like a dramatic, enlarged version of Tom Hiddleston from Marvel’s Thor film.

Ebby glanced down at his new ‘improved form.’ “Really?” He asked dryly?

Aasa rolled her eyes. “It’s been a thousand flipping years. “I’m pretty sure Gymir doesn’t remember what Loki looks like.”

Ebby stared at Aasa. “I’ve heard you mumble in your sleep. I know how you feel about Tom Hiddleston and his piercing eyes. Put one finger out of place and I’m out of here.”

Aasa rolled her eyes. “As if! Put your naughty fantasies away. Besides, this story takes place in a non-adult forum. Your itty-bitty kitty self is safe from the big bad sorceress.”

The transformed black cat snarled and stretched. “Just remember what I said or I and all my fantasies will defile out of here before you can snap your fingers. Looking down at the ground, he turned vaguely green. “I’m getting vertigo. This form is too tall.”

Up ahead, they spotted the driver standing outside the front door of a well-maintained single family residence breathing heavily from his jog in the rain and looking confused. “It’s time,” Aasa said. “Let’s get my ….” Before she could finish her phrase, the front door opened and she squeaked in fright and quickly dragged Ebby behind a tree. “We can’t let him see us until I’m ready,” she said in something close to a stammer.

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

cloying
verb KLOY-ing

Definition
1 : disgusting or distasteful by reason of excess
2 : excessively sweet or sentimental

[Marek]

As an aspiring American actor there had only been two choices. He could have gone west, to LA, where everyone was beautiful and had something you just had to read. Or, you he could have gone east, to New York, where everyone was trying so damned hard. He had wanted to be on the stage, and so he had chosen New York. Four years later he was still stuck there.

For not the first time, Rob wished he'd never tried theater back home in Omaha. "Should have stayed a jock, playing football, drinking after games, and getting laid by one of the cheerleaders - maybe even Nancy Carpenter herself", he grumbled as he got to the job site. "But no, I had to go and want to be a star, and jack my whole life up." Now he was stuck in a place he hated, with millions of people that were nothing like him, and...

"Screw it", he thought miserably, "no point in dwelling on it again today. Won't change anything."

Rob's time as a struggling actor had been brief, but long enough to break his spirit. "Not talented enough. Not unique enough. Not even a damned actor. Go home, farm boy." He'd heard it all. And they'd been right. He really wasn't good or special enough, and the price of that was now working construction and hanging steel. His was just another New York tale of unfulfilled dreams and crushing compromise, one in millions. Rob was sure that the city was built on such failures, because no one would stay here intentionally.

"Oh, I love New York!", he thought mockingly, mimicking the cloying manner of a typical tourist. He sneered as he secured his tools before heading up a couple hundred feet into the steel lattice-work skeleton of the new building he was working on. He was lying to himself, of course, and that thought annoyed him even more. There really were people that genuinely loved living and working in the city. They were the successful, or the lucky, or the talented. His irritation came more from the fact that he was none of those than from the city itself.

Sure, there were things about the city that could annoy. The noise never stopped, the grit and dirt were unavoidable, and the people were gruff. But there were also treasures. Most of all, there were his girls. He smiled, for the first time in the day, as he looked down at the bus stop across the street. Right on schedule, they were both there, chatting amicably as always.

They were the two most beautiful people in the city, its greatest treasures, and they appeared each morning as if to reaffirm that the world was still... barely... all right. To Rob, though it saddened him to admit since he knew nothing about them, they were the only people he had here. His girls. And they always made him feel like maybe, just maybe, things might get better. Each morning around this time he would wave to them and they would give him the best part of his day by waving back.

The two were an unusual pair, but from the way they chatted happily each morning it was clear they were the best of friends.

One was very old, of that advanced age where her wrinkled ivory skin took on a pearly translucence. Though she could still get around, it seemed, she moved with a stiffness that said it might hurt to do so. But she was there, every morning at the bus stop, and always seemed to be having the grandest of times. There was a calmness about her that was so out of place in the bustle here. Rob envied her that, and she made him feel better just by being there.

Her companion was a child, perhaps the sweetest looking young girl he had ever seen, and she just seemed to bubble with infectious enthusiasm. Her skin had the warmth and hue of dark cocoa, and the curls of her hair shone in the sun. By her dress he guessed that her family might have come from the Caribbean, and he hoped that they were doing well here. More than once he had wished he was a little boy again, so that he and the girl could play on some far off, sun-drenched beach.

Taken in conjunction, though... well, there was just something pure about watching them talk. They giggled. They leaned in, sharing whatever secrets an old woman and her little friend might have to share. It was clear they adored each other. Unaffected by the jostle around them, they were an island unto themselves, and Rob desperately wondered where they went each morning. He vowed to one day take the bus with them, as others occasionally did, just to find out.

Today, though, wasn't that day. The cage of the elevator reached his destination floor and he prepared for another day perched high enough to look out over the city he despised. The air was even more grimy this high up, but what chapped his ass the most was staring at the hated sign. "Welcome to the Big Apple!", it read cheerily from where it was mounted on a building a short way away. It rankled, every single day.

Reaching to clip in his safety line, he grabbed his crotch and made a very New York pelvic thrust towards the sign. "Yeah, I got your Big Apple right here", he said. As he did so his foot slipped. Not much. Just a matter of inches. The same kind of small change that, in a city like New York, meant the difference between success and Park Avenue or working construction across from a damned sign.

He was calm as he fell, as if he really didn't even care all that much. The hard cement below came towards him in a rush.

Moments later, surprised that there was no pain as he lay upon the ground, he chuckled to himself. "Fuck me, New York, I was only kidding." Looking around, he noted that everything was somehow muted. The normally oppressive sound seemed to be coming from a distance, tinny and hushed, and the light seemed to be oddly diffused. It was as if he was looking at the city through a grey veil, everything darkened for miles around, except...

Across the street there was a pool of sunlight, in which sat the bus stop, and his girls. They both smiled and waved, beckoning him over. Confused and on shaky legs, he made his way across the street. The older of the two made a space between them for him to sit, and the younger met him a few steps from the stop, throwing her arms around his waist in a hug and then leading him by the hand to the bench. Sitting, he looked to them both in wonder. The sweet little girl still held his hand as they sat, smiling up at him, and the older one spoke.

"Good morning Rob. It's so good to finally meet you." Her voice was kind, the most soothing thing in the world, and he briefly closed his eyes and sighed before he spoke.

"You too. Both of you", he added, squeezing the little one's hand and smiling at her. "But... how did you know my name?"

His girls giggled, and the older of his new friends placed a small warm hand on his arm. The younger rested her head against his shoulder and laughed lightly before she spoke. "Oh Rob, I think you know that already." In the distance a bus approached, bathed in the same yellow light that beamed down on the bus stop. The bus slid to a perfect stop in front of them, and the door opened. "Now, shall we go?"

Smiling, Rob nodded, and the three began their journey home.

[Merry Gentry]

She hated sitting in the throne room all day, it made her butt fall asleep most times and her legs ache from sitting so long.  Even the soft luxurious pillows the staff brought her had done little to alleviate the pain she could feel her aching back and neck. It was always the same thing.   Countless hours of listening to the ignoble prattle on and on about their grievances and their claims. How this one's cow was on her land eating all her vegetables, and how that one owed him three pigs for the hand of his youngest daughter. Most of their arguments were easily transpicuous, and the rulings she handed out simple and fair, or so she had been told. It was truly her least favorite thing to do while she prepared for the throne, and it was exhausting.

She couldn’t understand how listening to this nonsense would make her a better leader, her thoughts tinged with sarcasm.  If her father hadn’t insisted that it would ameliorate her leadership with the kingdom, she wouldn’t have done it for more than one minute than absolutely necessary.  The only light in this dim reflection was that it made her father happy.  That was what forced her to appear, daily to comply with his wishes.  He was please with her and she would prove to him that she could be the ruler that he expected and that their country deserved.

This form of torture, as she had begun to view it had started when he had a nightmare, one night.  He still refused to relate the details about his dream, but upon waking he had been unbearably adamant that she become a good ruler now, while he could help her out.  While he was still here to give her guidance.  It had given her a lot to perpend about with regards to her future and while she wouldn’t admit it aloud to anyone, she agreed with him and so she complied with his wishes, and here she sat.

So even though it was a chore that she did not relish, she gave a soft sigh of resignation and nodded toward the guard to let the next group in while affixing her most warming smile firmly on her lips.  Maybe this next group of subjects would have something more interesting to discuss she mused, wistfully.  "Next" the guard bellowed out, his voice booming as it echoed in the large chamber room.

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

flack
verb FLACK

Definition
1 : to provide publicity
2 : engage in press-agentry

[Marek]

"Go!", Berta had pleaded with the traffic, but it didn't work. She had been eight minutes late to work, and knew she was going to pay the price. Mr. Jamieson didn't like her much anyway, and never missed a chance to make her life tough. His favorites at the small PR firm got all the good jobs, and today would certainly be the same.

"Bullpen!", he announced, and they all gathered for the morning staff meeting where assignments are doled out.

"Stacy", her boss began, "feature interviews". Positively cooing, Stacy thanked him for the choice assignment. This rankled Berta, who hadn't liked her from the first time she ever saw her face.

"Darnell, b-roll at the pier." The handsome new guy smiled, and Berta wished she was going with him. She didn't feel that connected to him yet, but was damned sure she felt like making love with him.

"Carlo, the Anders ad, find us a song." Everyone groaned sympathy for Carlo,who waved his thanks. They just couldn't get the music right for the ad. The group chuckled as he mumbled softly how they were killing him with that song.

Knowing she was next, and what was left, Berta sighed in defeat.

"Roberta, flack."

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

alow
adverb uh-LOH

Definition
1 : below

[Nico]

Bad for business.

Certain kinds of business were better left to dark corners, seeds clubs or any other etablissement that would provide the necessary privacy. Or at least with an audience that was too busy with themselves and their needs. Flacking was neither wanted nor needed, unless one was eager to draw the wrong peoples attention.

"Angelo."

Just this one word. He knew that tone all too well. Too well to invoke any kind of amusement. Not even of the sarcastic kind he used to enjoy so very much. Only used in those rare moments when the boss was unnerved and that in itself was never a good thing. If the past that taught him one thing, then it was that an angered boss quickly lead to bloodshed and it rarely ever mattered who would be the target of said anger. It simply didn't matter. Release was release, right? Right. Mind you, he couldn't care less about some blood or some dead bodies. One got used to a lot. The deep, almost lulling voice came from a corner table not all that far from Angelo's position, he could hear it clearly, despite the noises filling the room. Clinking glasses, laughter, hushed proposals and the undeniable sound of money being exchanged for.. all kind of things. Little was impossible in such etablissements. It was in the air, quite literally so. The scent of lust, desire and illicit deeds. Right now it mingled with the scent of cheap Bourbon the moment he lifted his glass, having sent an acknowledging nod to the source of that voice. Shit.

A second. Two. Three.

His gaze hanging upon this one dancer across the room, wrapping her curvaceous body around the metal pole, likely enjoying all those eyes upon her while trying to defy the fast, hard beat. It almost seemed like a bad joke to Angelo by now. Ah, screw this. Important matters were waiting for him. Inhale. Exhale. Was that the scent of Crack in the air? Might as well be. Not that he gave a shit and a half. Money was money, at the end of the day.

"Signore." nothing more was necessary the moment he had stepped close enough to the table to ensure at least an acceptable level of privacy. The sitting, fat man looked up slowly, shoving fat, black hair from his scarred ugly face. 'Shit, what an ugly ass.' Angelo never could stop himself from thinking that. In the end, it didn't matter, though. Little pleasures and all this. The man took a dram from the fat cigar, held between fatty fingers that always reminded him of sausages. The glowing ember fading slowly, smoke rising like a haze over the old mans face, bestowing him with an almost mysterious air. But there was nothing mysterious about murder. Not for Angelo and sure as hell not for the boss. He was so detached by now, so obtuse, almost. Just business. "Is he gone?" the old man rumbled, less angry than before. The anger had given room for careful interest, at best. Piercing eyes upon Angelo, he could feel them without paying much attention. "The usual." he never had been a man of many words. Only for the important ones that mattered. Besides, death was always ugly (at least in his line of work) and he never found it worth talking about, not in recent years. Shit, he was getting too old for that crap.

He never would get too old for the money, though. Pushed across the table in a white, simple envelope, with a grunt for the old man. Get out of my eyes. That's what it meant, Angelo knew. "Grazie." even if it should be the old man who should show some damn gratitude. Unlikely to happen, because the envelope was the gratitude. Payment was overdone. About time he got himself some more booze, maybe some entertainment. Everything but frack. That would be devestating to business, indeed.

[Jazra]

Aasa cowered like a child behind both the tree and Ebby, doing her best to appear invisible. Memories of herself as a ten-year old slipping outside the outer rings of her family's hereditary trellborg without doing her lessons in favor of playing warrior queen or huntress or just climbing random pine trees. She had always loved climbing. She'd cling to the slender tree trunk far above the rocky ground like it was the mast of a pirate vessel while Ebby alow distracted Gymir from finding her.

Those memories faded as the reality of her present sprang back into focus on seeing the brightly painted front door slowly open and spotting old Gymir like a mountainous shadow in the door frame. She saw his bend his nearly literal giant sized body so that he could slip beneath the door frame and step onto the front porch where he stared down with grim intent at the Uber driver who had rung his front bell. She gasped, as her geas shattered, its purpose concluded, and like a kaleidoscope of butterflies disturbed by a sudden gust of wind, the spell scattered into the morning light briefly, before forming a flickering cloud of sparks that hovered in the air before moving in a straight, do-not-pass-go line directly to Aasa.

The Uber driver—faced with a 6’8” broad shouldered, heavily bearded man—gulped, turned red, and with apologies sounding over his shoulder, fled up the street he’d jogged down only moments before. The Viking Giant’s near-amber eyes ignored the driver in favor of following the trail of sparks to the old apple tree with its peeling bark and winter-bare branches in his front yard. “Looking for me?” he asked in a deep rumbling voice that made one think of Icelandic volcanoes coming alive after a long dormancy.

Aasa was frankly panicking now that she was face to face with him. As a result, her focus flew out the window and Ebby began to transform from the magnificent Loki modeled along Hollywood movie actor lines back into his more ordinary—albeit still unusual—form of a black-bearded dwarf Viking.

Ebby didn’t help matters by letting out a mock cry of fear and then screaming, “What have you done? In a minute I shall melt away.”

Aasa smacked him hard and said, “Not funny!”

Gymir broke into a laugh. Even at this distance, even at his age, he could hear every word the bickering pair said. “Is that you Ebby? Aasa? Am I supposed to be the Wizard of Oz?”

Aasa bit her lip and looked like she wanted to cry. Ebby stopped pretending to be the wicked witch melting, shook off the last bit of the Loki illusion, and stepped out from behind the apple tree. Raven standing directly behind Gymir, peered out and said, “Grandpa, they’re the ones! I told you about them. The people at the exhibit who knew you.”

Gymir frowned and said, “Don’t stand outside flacking for me. Get enough attention as it is, come inside.”

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

hyperbole
noun hye-PER-buh-lee

Definition
1 : extravagant exaggeration

[Flower]

Today's word of the day is....

widdershins
adverb WID-er-shinz

Definition
1 :  in a left-handed, wrong, or contrary direction
2 : counterclockwise

[Majere Dreavan]

Dear Diary, Or I guess in this case, to Whomever it may concern,

I woke up the usual sounds of thunder, rain hitting the tin roof. Most of the roofing these day were tin. I also spent 20 minutes trying to get my hair to stop sitting all widdershins. It didn't work, the entire day was following that course as well. Why wouldn't the day be terrible? I broke a nail; I have terrible hair; the roof is still leaking; the sump pump in the basement is on the fritz again; and I broke a pencil writing this.

I've started sitting at the end of the night, writing everything that goes on. It helps cope with the boredom and severe depression from having not seen the sun in a while. For those of you who might be reading this in the far flung future, A while means my entire life. I've never seen the sun, and The Suppliers only bring out so many UV lamps. They break down, and probably don't compare to the real thing. Again, I wouldn't know the real thing from a particularly bright LED at this point. I've only seen pictures.

Back to the matter at hand, My horrible day today. It of course started with the bad hair, but that was nothing compared to the broken nail. It was my thumb nail, and it split down the middle, pretty painful. I broke it while fixing the sump, Its a little pump meant to pump out excessive water from your basement. It works best if it doesn't get much use, but as it's been raining for the past... What did that old man say, 45 years? I'm pretty sure it was 45, The sump is working it's ass off. I fixed it, at the cost of my nail, but it's still not working as hard as before. The Suppliers will have to get me a new one, and they aren't visiting til Friday. After a stressful day of work on the sump, I resigned to remaining bored. I was reading my favorite book "Swiss Family Robinson", when I decided to finally try that divinity. The Suppliers brought it during Christmas, and it's been sitting in my freezer for months. Only I found it cloying. What a waste! I'll have to tell The Suppliers not to bring more, and see if they'll consider flacking that I have some to give out.

Well, I hope this helped me, at all. Because I still feel like crap. My hair still won't lay down right. Lastly, If things keep getting worse, the sump will end up being little more than a gimcrack. Anyway, I heard you're publishing all these letters and distributing them somewhere. I guess as a way to document the days of rain, As you call it?  Well I hope this letter serves that purpose. It's the only one out of my diary I'm comfortable leaking.

[Sofia Grace]

Today's word of the day is....

livelong
adjective LIV-lawng

Definition
1 :  whole, entire

[King Serperior]

"Now that you understand the rules, Greenies, I'll be assigning each of you to one a senior member of the guard.  They will teach you the basics of what you will be doing from now on.  The five of you are the only ones to make it through the training and evaluation to join us, so I expect great things from you.  However, remember this, you have climbed high, high enough that if you fail, you will fall, and that fall will kill your chances of ever being a part of the guard again.  Am I understood?"

Nar Stormcry stood at attention with the rest of the new members of the city's guard and responded with a crisp, "Understood!"

Satisfied by the correct posture and response, the Captain of the Guard, a thin, wiry human man who stood a half-head shorter than Nar, started directing each of the gathered five to the person who would be teaching them their duties.  Two were assigned to guard the castle walls, one was assigned to guard the gates, and the last was given orders to guard the coffers of the common folk within the city.  As the four were led away, that left only three people in the room:  Nar Stromcry, the Captain of the Guard, and a large, burly individual that could only be the person Nar would be assigned to.

The Captain sauntered over, his head cocked to the side slightly as he tilted his head slightly up to meet Nar's eyes, as he spoke with an air of humor, "Nar Stormcry, eh?  I have to say that I am surprised your kind would be interested in guarding this city.  After all, I thought the city life was too cramped and restrictive?  It's rare that a Half-Orc such as yourself to spend as much time away from the badlands and behind these walls."  The Captain placed his hands behind his back and paced away a few steps before turning, "In any case, whatever your reasons may be, the guard for our fair city's dungeons is rather scarce, so your presence will provide much-needed new blood."  The Captain nodded back towards the tall, silent human in the room, "This is Olsen Garrow, captain of the men down there making sure the imprisoned don't die of starvation, thirst, or suicide as well as making sure none of them escape.  He's been in charge for the last fifteen years and there has not been a single causality, escape, or attempted escape to mar his record.  As such, I would suggest listening to him.  Understood?  Good, then dismissed!"

With that, the Captain walked out, leaving Nar and Olsen remaining in the room.  There was a few moments of silence as Nar felt the tall man's gaze upon him.  Nar didn't dare relax nor move while he was being observed.  This was his big chance, the one he had been working towards for the last ten years when he first arrived at the city.  Nar had been born of a union between the head shaman of the Orc stronghold, Nazzar-kahar, and a human adventurer who nearly lost his life protecting her while she continued the battle ritual that allowed the stronghold's warriors to hold off the Gnoll surprise attack.  It was during that battle that the human's bravery was acknowledged by the chieftain who granted the human the honor of 'Orc-Friend' and given the right to join the tribe.  Two years later, Nar was born, but he had no skill in magic, much to his mothers disappointment.  As Nar grew up, he became disillusioned with the way the stronghold was constructed and, at the age of thirteen, he left Nazzar-kahar on a journey of self-discovery.  A year later, he arrived at the city and immediately fell in love with the structure of how it was ran and never looked back.  A few months later, he started his training to join the city's guard after being denied no less than three times.  It was what led him to this day and Nar knew he couldn't afford to fail....

It took all of Nar's discipline to not jump in surprise as the large human moved, stepping forward in a casual manner, "So, you're Nar, eh?  Very well.  I don't care if you're an Orc, Half-Orc, or a bloody Drow.  You will listen to what I say when I say it.  Do I make myself clear?"  Nar gave the affirmative nervously.  The man's eyes narrowed in a fashion reminiscent to that of the chieftain's as he looked at Nar, but before his legs could give out out of sheer nervousness, the man's attitude changed completely as he suddenly  guffawed with a deep belly laugh all widdershins to what he'd originally expected!

Nar stood frozen in shock as the serious, intimidating air of the man before him transformed into that of something akin to an Orc post-battle.  Olsen reached up and clapped a hand hard on Nar's shoulder and led him out the door, "Okay, new blood, I don't know what you expected, but the dungeon guard is a little less stuffy than most of the places you'd be working in.  We have to be, else we'd become as gloomy and depressed as the ones behind the bars.  Now, don't let that scare you, boy.  Just because we're a little less stiff than the Wall Guard doesn't mean that we're any less capable at doing our jobs.  After all, we're in charge of keeping the unpleasant people locked up while the regular folk can live their lives in peace."

As the two of them walked down the corridor, Olsen spoke continuously, asking various questions regarding his background, Orcish culture, and, most importantly as Olsen assured, what sort of weapons he was proficient in.  Nar answered to the best of his abilities, still completely flabbergasted at the change in pace, explained how he came to be and how he'd trained using a mace since he was old enough to hold one.  Olsen took him down several stairs and through several corridors then back up a few more sets of stairs.  Nar learned that the dungeons were located below the main palace and that there were numerous ways in which prisoners, thieves, crooks, and murderers could be brought down here.  In the times of old, these passages were used to transport soldiers quickly during sieges.

"Well, here we are, new blood!  Now, let's give you the grand tour and get you geared up.  Tomorrow's where you'll be put to the test."  Olsen brought him to a doorway where the door was wide open.  Inside were six individuals who were busy.  Two humans were playing some game on a board, a halfling was carving something in the corner, another two humans were at a table in the midst of a test of strength by grappling their arms together in an effort to push one to the table, and finally, there was a Gnome that was brachiating from makeshift handholds across the ceiling.  Olsen, noticing where Nar was looking, elbowed him, "That's Quinkel, our strongest, and only, mage.  Don't let his size fool you, boy.  I've seen him go hand-to-hand with an Orc four times his size and come out on top, not a hint of magic used.  I've never seen another person pull the wool over his eyes even once.  There's rumors that the queen herself wants him on her court, but he keeps saying he'd rather stay down here with the rest of us."  Nar nodded as the two humans looked up from their game and gave lazy waves of greetings.

Olsen clapped him on the shoulder again, "This is the barracks.  You'll find your cot over there in the back.  Now, let's go to the armory and get yourself geared up.  We've got ten men down here, including you and I.  Geraldo should be down there to get you fitted."

And that was how the rest of the morning went with the dirty-looking human named 'Geraldo' sizing him up and picking out the standard leather and mail armor and giving Nar the pick of weapons.  After that, Nar was shown to where the medical room, the kitchens, lavatory, and the practice room.  All the while, Olsen kept talking almost nonstop, giving his war stories and talking about various people who have found themselves down here.  It was almost tedious to keep listening, but Nar was afraid that this was a tactic to make sure he was paying attention when Olsen later would ask a question regarding it.

With the afternoon having come and the evening just an hour away, Olsen brought Nar to a set of stair, "...and down alow are the actual dungeons.  For the last decade, they've mostly held petty thieves and drunkards, but they've also held some murderers.  In fact, we have one old guy who's been down there since before I was placed in charge of this place.  However, tonight is the best time to show you our most infamous new arrival.  He's been banned from this city ever since he tricked the queen out of a few hundred gold pieces.  We've been given an arrest-on-sight order the moment any of the guards see this person and he came in last night.  According to the guards who captured him, he tried to sneak in by hiding in a barrel that another trader had on his cart!"

Nar followed Olsen down the spiral stairs as the head of the dungeon continued about this one prisoner, "....and, if you can believe it, we've gotten word that he's wanted in numerous other cities and towns for thievery, misuse of magic, and multiple escapes!"  Nar couldn't believe it and voiced his opinion, "Ah, Sir, are you....are you sure that's not just a hyperbole?  I mean, that seems like quite a lot for a single person and the fact that he has escaped so many times and is wanted everywhere would mean it's impossible that he's done so much, right?"

Olsen simply laughed as they passed by various cells, every other one having a person inside, "That's because this guy's been using magic and is skilled at bribery.  I bet that if we cut out his tongue, it'd be solid silver.  There have been too many guards bribed by this guy, but not my men.  Anyone who is bribed and reports the person is given three times that amount as a reward.  None of us have ever accepted so much as a single copper from someone who wants one of these ruffians out before their time."  They turned a corner to face an iron door at the end of the corridor where Olsen said, "This cell was made specifically for this prisoner by Quinkel.  Once someone is enclosed, their magic is severed.  Of course, this guy is skilled at using that Fool's Gold spell and always summons a handful of gold when the slot is opened to allow us to look in on him.  The bastard has been doing it all the livelong time from the moment he was thrown in here.  Come on, you should see the guy at least.  He's going to be here for a long, long time."

Nar watched as Olsen unlocked the cell, the man calling out, "Okay, 'Mr. Unbelievable,' you've got a new visitor.  He's already been warned of your tricks, so don't even try....."  As the door opened, Olsen's words faded into shock as both he and Nar looked into the empty room.  In the brief seconds before chaos ensued, Nar took note of the very spartan room that had a single chamber pot, a bed, a chair, and a ratty rug.  On the rug was what looked like a stone tray and copper cup.  The tray had a note written in elegant script saying, 'Thank you for the room and board, but I must insist upon departing.  Here's the tip and please give my regards to Queen Maria.  Tata!'  Beside the note was a pile of at least ten gold coins.

The silence stretched for an uncomfortably long time before Olsen turned around, his face red with anger and his eyes bulging madly, and yelled, "Men!  Security breach!  A prisoner has escaped!  Quinkel!  Your blasted cell didn't hold him!"  In but a few minutes, there was a thundering of boots on the stone floor and the rattle of mail as eight men clad in the armor of the dungeon guard quickly entered the corridor.  They stood stunned for a moment before the Gnome darted forward and into the cell, chanting words of power, casting magic.  A few seconds later, he turned and said, "Captain Olsen, it would appear that there is a hole just behind the bed, possibly made by a rodent.  It provided a breach in the seals I placed on the cell.  It is quite possible that he had been saving this trick to escape.  Crozak is the kind of mad genius to do such a thing."

Olsen let loose a series of curses and ordered his men to go and inform the city guard to look for this Crozak guy.  Nar watched as the guard defiled hastily out before looking back at the captain and the Gnome, then down at the tray of coins, "Sirs...ah....what should be done with....that?"  Quinkel looked down and shrugged, "Dispose of them however you please.  They may look real, but I can sense magic on them.  It's Fool's Gold and they'll disappear in about three days.  I'd dispel them myself, but I need to conserve my energy for capturing that Tiefling."  Olsen nodded and said, "Quinkel's right, Nar.  Take them and go.  I'm going to have a severe talking to with the men for overlooking this.  You go home and prepare for the trouble this will cause.  You weren't here, so you're not to blame for this.  While you go, get rid of those magic coins.  At this point, boy, you'd only be a liability since you don't know the ins and outs of our work yet."

Nar nodded and went to scoop up the tray of coins.  If Nar looked back on this moment retrospectively, he would probably not have picked up those coins.  That small pile of gold would be one of the biggest mistakes of his life.  But Nar didn't know that at the time because he lacked his mother's gift of 'Farsight,' so he picked them up and put them in one of the small pouches of his belt.  Nar nodded towards the two and left as per orders.  He knew that there was a lake at the edge of the city and he figured it would be best to simply toss the coins down into it so no unfortunate soul would them of them as real and accidentally give someone false coin.

It would take nearly half an hour to make it to the lake wall from the dungeons, but Nar climbed to the wall just in time to see the perfect, beautiful hues of the sunset as it reflected off the still waters of the lake.  A breeze swept by and blew the braided strands of shoulder-length hair a little as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.  Truth be told, the day could have gone far worse.  Sure, a criminal of some kind had escaped, but it wasn't through any fault of his own and he was certain that Captain Olsen and his men would capture the escapee again soon.  Nar shook his head to clear it and untied the pouch from his belt, hefting the comforting weight of gold in his palm.  He couldn't believe he was about to do this with enough gold to keep him well fed for a week, but if it's false, then it should be thrown into the bottom of the lake.

Nar emptied the pouch into his palm and cocked his arm back before throwing with all the strength his Orc blood gave him, the gold flying through the air and capturing the fading light of the sun as they splashed into the water below at least fifty feet away and over sixty feet below.  With that task done, Nar leaned against the short, stone wall and became lost in his thoughts.  He thought of home, of his parents, his friend, the tribe and stronghold itself.  There was no sense of how much time had passed for Nar as he was lost in his thoughts, but something brought him out of his reverie, a glint of gold in the dying light....

Nar looked up and saw a golden-skinned figure dressed in ratty, worn clothing.  He couldn't tell much from the distance, but he could see that this person certainly wasn't human.  Nar watched as the figure shook himself dry and turned around.  He could almost swear that the person was looking straight at him!  His confusion only increased as the figure raised his arm and started to wave before it came down and seemed to be writing something in the air!

The figure used what was obviously magic to write in elegant, flowing script, "Crozak the Unbelievable thanks you, kind Orc-born, for freeing him from his chains.  It was most fortuitous that you picked up those coins instead of the Gnome.  Fare thee well and tata!"  As Nar read the glittery, purple words in the air across the lake, his eyes widened as he realized with sudden transpicuous memory that the criminal that escaped was a master of the Fool's Gold spell, that the criminal used the spell as often as possible when he was captured, and that Captain Olsen called out the name 'Mr. Unbelievable' before opening the door.  That could only mean that the criminal had somehow transformed himself into a gold coin after casting the Fool's Gold spell in order to escape....which Nar just helped him with....

As he watched the golden-skinned figure make a flourishing bow and slip into the forest, Nar sank to his knees, watching the words that floated in the air where anyone on the walls could see if they looked, and said, "This is a Nightmare..."