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planetscapeby planetscape (Chancellor)
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p l a n e t s c a p e
Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus
She felt a flash of anger, and no little trepidation. Quickly she buried the outward manifestations of the emotion, channeling its energy instead into the magic she wrought with nimble fingers, a small amount of thread tugged from the hem of her robe, and a great deal of necessity.
Imprisoned within the Wizard's Tower - too many of the girls she'd taken to train in the service of The Lady would have swooned at the prospect. The reality bore no resemblance to such romantic notions, however. Soon, though, she would be free... or dead. Much depended upon the spell she wove.
Fingers almost as nimble as a spider's legs, though greater in number, worried line into web, idea into form, reality from ephemeral dream... Wings, she thought, neither feathered nor furred, a span to shade an entire column of knights...
As if sensing something of the feminine enchantment coalescing before him, the Wizard cast a sharp glance at her. She stilled her fingers, hushed her silent chant, and gazed back at him, untroubled. He stared for a moment more, as if trying to convince himself the faerie touch of magic on the back of his neck was more than just his imagination. His prisoner seemed meek enough, and sure he was that his power was sufficient to keep her cowed and manageable.
He returned to the map spread before him, contenting himself with his plans of conquest and dominion. Too often, however, the man who grasps for control of countries allows the small but crucial grains of individuals to slip between his fingers.
A serpentine neck, flexible but strong... Her fingers danced, knotting, spreading, returning to the source, drawing forth substance where there was none, rending, altering, and finally... the last twist, the last knot, the last thought become manifest...
At this final coming together of wild magic, moonlight and mist, spiderweb and silk, the Wizard realized at last that the woman before him was neither powerless nor subdued... but it was too late.
Even as he grasped for the hem of her robe, she was too quick for him, throwing herself from the tower's heights.
Sunlight capped mountains and tickled the tower's fanglike crennelations, wove through her hair, gilding the silver with gold, but for an instant as she fell...
Then into shadow where sunlight did not yet reach, darkness where the full and gravid moon still ruled, moon of making... Silver again, like finest spun silk, her hair billowed out around her...
Now... she willed her spell manifest... now... with the ground rushing to meet her...
She closed her eyes to the world of matter for, perhaps, the last time, opening them instead to the world of magic...
And she smiled, a gape-jawed toothy grin, as the thunderous downbeat of her immense bat-like wings splintered the trees below her into so much kindling. A scream of joy rose from her, startling sleeping birds from their nests, causing the small furred forest creatures to cower and huddle, disturbing the dreams of mortal men, and firing those of women...
Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup
-- E. Gary Gygax
"The miracle is that the universe created a part of itself to study the rest of it, and that this part, in studying itself, finds the rest of the universe, in its own natural inner realities."
The more I examine the universe and study the details of its architecture, the more evidence I find that the universe in some sense must have known we were coming.
— Freeman Dyson (as quoted in A Short History of Nearly Everything, by Bill Bryson)
"I wonder about the intelligence of people who try to equate the fact that there are no documented alien landings at major world capitals, to the absence of otherwordly beings visiting the earth. To me, it's like trying to disprove the existence of humans simply because travelers to Africa or Australia don't take great care to park their cars next to the largest termite mound."
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother/Sister Cattle Prod of Truth. What's yours?
My pirate name is:
Iron Jenny Flint
A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!
Get your own pirate name