Axesullied – The Mountain of Fathers: Part 3

Welcome back Comdwarves! Let us strike the earth and be merry once again after a short mental break(down) due to illness and onset of Diabloitis.

When we last left our intrepid and stalwart, drunk, dwarves they were attacked by penmonkeys that stole half of their socks (and we stole their innocence) and now we face something much, much worse. Migrants. Oy vey. Let’s get this over with.

A horrible sight.

Mmkay, not bad. Could be worse. Only four migrants arrives (our lack of trade is our saviour this day). Let’s introduce each other, shall we?

(also: yay, fixed Stonesene!)

Continue reading

Wednesday Waft

“It’s curtains for you, Dr. Horrible. Lacy, gently wafting curtains.”

If there is something I dread whenever I pick up the pen-monkey and shake its obnoxious simian face over the equally obnoxious blank page it’s when I reach the atrociously difficult, mind boggling middle part. If you’ve ever read/written a book, hell; even a pamphlet for dyslexics, I think you know what I mean. Perhaps. It’s the in-between part. The distance between A and B. The train derailment between stops. The anesthetic after the shaving of the under-regions and before the surgery (for those two extra inches SHUTUPIT’SACONDITION!).

I’m not proficient with metaphors. Continue reading

Into The Fray Or Collapse Into Clay!

It’s rare, I know, but sometimes I give this place attention. Such a day is upon us, dear scalywags and lollygaggers!

While I decided – after a few moments consulting my work schedule, the games coming out this month and my general underlying apathy against imaginary and pushy deadlines – not to participate in NaNoWriMo (Nannies Nocturnally Wringing Monkies) I’m still allowed to write stuff! And wrangle that monkey that keep staring at me.

Nuh uh!

You shut up, yes I can. And I decided my lovely Scavenger Kareza needed some more lovin’ , out there in the hot and sweaty desert waste!

Really trying to sell it as erotic fan fiction aren’t you?

Uh… uhm… I don’t- I don’t know what you’re saying ha ha ha that’s not, how very silly ha ha! Ehhhrum. Anyway.

Swoosh. You know the drill; pretty much a rough draft without any fancy formatting; I’m not going to go around polishing stuff I will probably redo later.

He’s too busy polishing his…

Be quiet you. Enjoy or not; care I if mind! CLICK MORE TO KNOW MORE!

Continue reading

Ireland.get()

So, I finally got a job. In Ireland, for HP. It might only be a temporary position; but still. Freaking work!

In ten days I’ll be flying – a rather short flight, Sweden and Ireland isn’t that far apart – over to the land of the Harp and Guinness and start supporting customer like a boss over the phone. I’m not that nervous yet for some reason; I might have got most of the nervousness out off my system when I had the phone interview.

The first interview he had ever done. Bastard.

I’m sure my aloofness will pass. I will most likely get as nervous as a elderly bear flying out from a lazerspaceship wearing makeup and holding a stick of butter in front of an army of hostile Intergalactic Space Cows when I’m standing by the door to the airport. Oh well.

Continue reading

There There, It Only Stings A Bit

Another day, another five hundred words, another rejected job search.

Did you know that if you have spent, basically, your whole (short) life studying and achieving only mediocre stats, as it were, then you aren’t high on the list for hot prospects in the general vicinity of the job market? I had. No. Freaking. Idea. Really.

Wait. Does sarcasm count as a disability? The more important question, I guess, is: Can I get money for it? Please? It’s very severe.

I’m sounding so bitter for some reason. I’m going to sit down with Dwarf Fortress while  Miracle of Sound, and a sprinkle of The World Is Saved, is playing in the background. Dr. Doctor did recommend a remedy of tantrum-raging, booze driven dwarves this evening.

Oh, There It Is

Strange how easy you forget something virtual exist when you do not make it a bookmark in your preferable web browser. Ha, and people say evolution is dead.

What?

No, I don’t have any idea either. In any case; I’m in the process of falling on my knees with the most extreme case of puppy eyes in my… eyes to, while pleading like a bankrupt broker bartering baboons, get a stinking job so I can actually function like a human being. Thank Shiva for parents.

During this exciting, and very masculine happen-stance, I have begun writing again. But instead of going into my disgustingly researched and familiar world (no name yet), which is currently firmly set in a low-fantasy setting, my brain and fingers hatched a nefarious plan to make me write about a, quite random, female scavenger, of sorts, in a sort of Fallout-esque type of place – only with more dust, sand, sun (two suns to be exact) and proper accommodations; and less wildlife. I would not call it Science Fiction because, well, there is no science in it. Durp. Unless you count taking a crash course in how binary solar systems work, how to properly use a surface to reflect as much heat as possible, as !Science! of course. Which I don’t.

Currently I am asking myself “Should I put the first thousand words on this here printing press of words in the faint hope that someone with some constructive critique might read it and offer insight in how to make it better…”.

The thing is that, and bear with me there ol’ fella, you can get your tea and biscuit later; the introduction? The first hundred words (or so)? It looks and reads like some cheesy romance novel (a.ka “SEX MOTHER FUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT!”). This, I can tell you with a hand on the heart and other organs deemed trustworthy (liver for example), was reeeeeeally not intended to be.

I personally don’t see it (I had to actively think about it to notice it) and would probably see past it anyway  – because I know where the story is heading… and let me tell you – I’m glad the characters in a story has no way to grab the writer by the throat and bash him in – but I think other, non-initiated, Blasphemers will see it as such. I can’t blame them, really.

And it’s…

Continue reading