Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Brickwizard part III

This one's gonna be a bit shorter today.  I'm still thinking about how I want the Brickwizard story to turn out.  I want to get it figured out correctly before I go and make something cannon.  I dunno.  Maybe I'm worried about it too much.  Hopefully you get a kick out of this anyway.  


"Bronze bricks are hexed with a special spell which allows them to grow walls only where you want them to." said Thrimfond Breadsaw. "Like I said before, they are very comparable to organic seeds."

"But why do you have to plant two of them in order to grow one wall?" asked the Highlord.

"You only need one brick," explained Breadsaw, "but first you need to split it into two pieces.  Then you plant them away from each other, just as long as you want the wall to be.  The half bricks each grow separate towers while simultaneously growing downward and outward until the roots on either side connect.  This is how the half-bricks establish each other's location, thus becoming one, again.  As soon as this connection is established, the wall starts growing in-between the towers."

"...Give me a minute" said the Highlord, furrowing his brow.

"I'll draw you a diagram." said Breadsaw.

Phase One

Phase Two

"Ok, yeah that makes sense." said the Highlord

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Free write / Steel-Arm

The frenzy fish of light-gime's phase, twas lift above another's curl.  Yetweems, gummerths, the grass, unshroken, but minds were never smart for the amber ways.

Why do men whither away at the screen of fantastic proportions?  Shooting their guns and casting spells?  It is because the company is sweeter that the lack thereof.

If you haven't noticed already, I'm just going off on randomness.  Not even sure why I'm pointing it out.  It's like that xkcd post where when you're alone you just randomly say "I know you're listening" in the hopes of freaking out some secret organization.  Anyway, here goes some more random stuff.  Free write.  Whatever randomness comes to me:

Those grapes, he was riots.  But nobody asked if his clues matched his blues.  Yet nother carries him home on his back.  His burley.  A hunched giant through and through the threw woods.  Give me a nine iron.

This is a lot easier to do with a pen, because it's slower.  Gives me more time to think.  I'm somewhat faster at typing.  Though apparently I hit the space-bar with the wrong thumb.  A teacher called me out on that in elementary school I believe.  I'm still pretty ticked about that.  Seriously?  The space- is big enough for all my fingers.  What difference does it make if I use a different thumb?  So stupid.  I could throw a bring through a window.  I could smash a bottle against a wall. Not really, though, it just sounds funny.

Here take a leaf of abby abby who dang throme bumb agome drome.  Shummy the dang hing the spikes they whirl and bumps.

This seemed like a good idea at the time, now I'm not so sure.  I think I'm realizing I'm just giving myself excuses for not writing something coherent and not wanting to use my brain.  I'm not sure if I phrased that the right way, but I'm still not going back to fix it.  Even though I'm wrong, I have my rights.

Alright fine.  Here is a story of a bacon that wanted his cheese to grow a beard.

No that's no good either.  I could continue that last story, but I have other stuff bouncing around in my head too.  How 'bout this one? Like most of how stories in my head begin, this one starts in the middle.


What was this?  Why was his skin going cold again.  The pain was so sharp.  Then dull.  And then gone.  It had been weeks since the bite, and now the infection had spread up to his collar-bone.  How long would it be until his whole body was turned to steel?  He could still control the infected limb.  In fact it was a lot stronger than it had been before.  Much, much stronger.  But he just couldn't feel with it like he used to, and that's what frightened him.  If the infection stopped, maybe he wouldn't mind.  Heck, anyone else would be happy to have an unbreakable steel arm.  Think of what one could do!  He probably would have even felt the same way.  But it's different once it happens to yourself.  Perception changes.  All changes have the bad, along with the good, but spread of this infection widened the lens of his anxiety enough to overshadow any optimism regarding this situation.

He sat down on a rock, grasping his metallic arm.  What dark magic was this?  How come nobody knew how to help him?  "I should have amputated it when it was still below my elbows."  He thought to himself.  "I would still have a shoulder at least, and I wouldn't have to worry about this situation anymore."  The pain returned with a jolt through his tendons.  He clenched his teeth, breathing more heavily.  He looked down at his cold, heavy metal hand, almost expecting to see his reflection.  He rested his forehead into his metal palm.  It was too much for him.  It was getting out of control.  It would be best to end it all before something bad happened.  He slowly started to clamp his metal fingers into his skull.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The boy didn't even look around to see who it was.  "Well, what else can I do?"

"Frankly," said the cloaked man walking out from the clearing, "anything other that what you were about to do, is what you can do."

"But what if I hurt someone?"

"Are you saying that taking your life - like this - wouldn't hurt them?"

The boy's eyes began to swell. "Well, at least they'd be safe.  At least I wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?"

The boy wiped his eyes and pushed his teeth against his fist. "At least I wouldn't be able to kill them."

At this point the boy lost it.  He sobbed and made those pathetic groans nobody likes to hear.  The man walked over, sat down, and put his arm around the boy.

"Do you really believe that?  Do you really think you're a danger to your loved ones?"

The boy calmed down just enough to whimper, "I'm scared."

The old man spoke softly, "Just because something isn't in your control, doesn't mean you can't control yourself."

"What happens if it spreads to my mind?"

"How long do you think it will take to reach there?"

The boy sniffed, "I don't know.  A few days.  Maybe a week."

"Well, you have that much time to find a solution."  The old man smiled and rustled the boy's hair.  "Don't give up, my boy!"

The boy woke up before he could thank the old man.  He opened his shirt to see that the infection had spread past an inch or two past his collar-bone.  From the base of his neck and halfway down his torso to the end of his fingertips had become pure steel.

"Nobody can help me here," he said to himself, "I have to get out."


Sorry that got a little dark there.  I'm sure if I thought longer I would have been able to come up with something with a more lighthearted humorous tone, like I usually like to.  But I guess it's good to have stuff like that too.  Idunno.

Friday, January 2, 2015

The Brickwizard Part II

I understand I made a few spelling and grammatical errors in my last post.  I'm not gonna fix them.  At least for right now.  Without further ado, Brickwizard part two!

The brick started to glow red as it was fired in the kiln.

"Is that hot enough?" asked Swinefish Merryweather.

"Give it a bit longer, Figs" said Breadsaw.

"I've been a blacksmith longer than our Princeship's father has been dead.  That bronze isn't getting any hotter."

"I've studied brickmastery longer than our Princeship's MOTHER has been dead!" replied Breadsaw, "Believe me, you've never fired this type of bronze before."

The brick continued to glow red.

"Wait for it..."

The brick began to glow blue.

"Alright, as soon as the blue starts turning green, pull it out."

After just a few moments, the blue hue faded and Swinefish quickly pulled out the brick with tongs and headed toward the trough.

"NO!!! STOP!!!" Yelled Breadsaw, "Don't put that in the water trough, Figs, do you want to kill us all?"

"You better tell me where I should put this thing then, it's starting to melt my favorite tongs."

"Over there in that open box I placed on the table"

Swinefish did as he was told.

"That's a nice looking box.  Where did you get it?"

"I forged it out of discore, using speedwax."

"Discore?!" Swinefish was baffled, "Where in smells wells did you find discore?"

"The sailor who traded it to me said he owns a discore deposit in his private a sea-cave mine"

"Well, what in hade's spades do you need a box made of discore for?"

"You saw how hot that brick got, didn't you?" Said Breadsaw, "discore is the only mineral that can stabilize such heat without letting it cool down.  Not rapidly anyway.  That's why we brickmasters call it a lava-box."

The brick continued to glow green.

"Come over here, Festelton." said Breadsaw.

Highlord Grandsir Festelton was standing in the corner, quietly observing the procedure.

"This is the color you want it to be, "said the Brickmaster, "This shade of green means it is at it's hottest temperature.  The lava-box will stabilize it and keep it at this temperature and color for a few weeks.  If it goes back to blue, you have to fire it back up to green again.  If you let it cool completely, or even cool down to red, it will be rendered useless.  That's what we call a 'dead seed.' At that point it will disintegrate before heating back up to blue or green again."

The Highlord, with his arms folded, carefully leaned over to see the brick glow green in it's majestic cube thrown, and quickly felt the warmth radiating against his face.

"Quite extraordinary," said the Highlord.  He turned to look back at the Brickmaster. "So how do we plant it?"