A pale orange-blue cover, with stars wrapping around the frame. Upon the front is a big white Z with the words "Live each day to its fullest, as though there was no tomorrow" cutting through the center of it. In the background is a fading sunset turning into night, the sun only half visible at the bottom of the page.
Saturday, 08 October 2016
Where we dance, we must tread carefully. For beneath our feet lies the marks of our enemy. Scarlet is the earth with the blood of those who have fallen. Ashes are what remains of their memory. But most of all, the forced laughter fills the air of those who remain. Of those who are struggling to return to the time it was before. Where on could toss a coin, and see that both sides were the same, where joy was the norm and gatherings were formed. Now the silence descends like a vulture atop a tree. Sucking all happiness and unity, to leave separation and the awkward silence of those who are not the same. Strangers we have become, for now there are new ones among our midst. Those who wear robes of a different name. Of a name with out an identity, one that speaks of mystery. One that threatens to spread destruction through out our history.
So where we dance, we tread carefully, because the floor is decorated scarlet from those who have fallen, and who knows for how long... we will remain.
zub zeron posted @ 23:04 - Link
Friday, 19 August 2016
Upon my boots and in my hair, lies the remains of lifes before. Ever particle i breath in, threatens to choak me from with in. Once, i had a childish believe that no matter how many times Balthy attacked, everything would be alright. But now, I realize how rediculous and unreasonable that thought was. My eyes have been open to the cruelty that surrounds us. To the unfairness that pleagues the land. I complain about lack of trts, while there are those who have lost all! I still can not believe how this happenned! One moment, i was roaming the streets, greeting friends and having a pleasant time t the inn. Then, the ash upon my clothing is all i have for memory. Have i failed? Is it pointless to fight at all, if in the end, towns will be destroyed? All we are doing is prolonging what can not be evaded. Who are we fooling but ourselves. Balthy is relentless, and in the end, no matter what we do, he gets what he wants. The destruction of far town, is a symbol of his power, and what he is willing to do, to get what he wants. I think it is time, we analize ourselves, for it seems Balthy has the upper hand.
zub zeron posted @ 17:19 - Link
Saturday, 16 July 2016
It has been quite a while since i touched you, my journal and quite a while since i went to visit the graves of my family. The trip itself was halfhearted and rather dismal. When i arrived in my village, it was all but changed. There were no longer the sounds of business, nore the hustling of people coming and going to work. The stret that dominated the village was all but vacant, the only sound traveling down its lonely lane, being the cries of a few children playing in the dirt. I recall the sense of unease almost overwhelming me and making me want to flee. Instead i hrried along, focused to do what i came to do and leave as soon as i could. It wasn't the welcome i expected but who am I to complain when i have been gone for so long. I felt as though in a way, i had betrayed my family but most of all my village. As i hurried along, i noticed Ben's Smoking Meats had survived the time, but bearly. Like most shabby and rundown huts that hugged the road's edge, Ben's Smoking Meats looked very worn down. I had the urge to walk in and say hello, but for some reason I just kept to my course. I soon came to the end of the road and turned left into the semetary, where I remember burrying my family. As i entered, I remember looking back over my shoulder at the empty lot that once was my home. The grass was all but gone, small orange and blackish weeds consuming most of the area. Patches of blackenned earth could be seen beneath rotting boards. It was odd that noone cleared them out, but perhaps the villagers thought to keep them there as a memory. What ever the reason, i could only stare at it for a moment, as the memories that it held threatenned to drown me in its sorrow and i didn't want to relive any of it again. I returned my attention to the graveyard, glancing about for the tombstones of my sisters and father. It was hard to find them, as it was overgrown with weeds and the scent of dead bodies filled the air. I finally located them after climbing over a fallen tree. The tombstones seemed to be the only thing that survived the ravaging power of time, the names of my family still clearly etched upon their faces. I kneeled down, and traced the engraved letters of each of their names. Resting my hand on my father's name, i bowed my head and for one second, just one second, I let my self reminisce. I recall a tear running down my cheek, and my sorrow wanting to overtake me but instead... I focused on the happy ties i had with them while I gave them a small pray to the gods. I kneeled there for quite some time after my prayer, just pondering the path of my life and where it had taken me. That is when... whether it was the guidance of my father or the gods, i yet do not know, I sensed something and stood up abruptly. I glanced about, searching but not knowing for what. Then i Found it... mounts upon mountains of bodies, human bodies! Children lay upon childrens, their eye sockets empty and seemng to gaze at me with an accusatory look. Mothers lay with their newborns, expressions of horror and supplication covering most of their half sunken faces. I can not go on... as my body is racked with fear... but it was horrid...
zub zeron posted @ 15:48 - Link
Monday, 09 May 2016
Things couldn't have better. I found the best thing that is worth more than 20 tarts. Yes, 20 tarts! I know it is shocking. However, it seems it is time i lay my staff down, remove my goggles, and let go of that thing i have come to cherish the most. I will miss those i call friends and Liv will always hold my heart. For now, my mind calls for a spell free day, and finally i shall give it. I will miss ZZ but i know it will be in good hands, and besides it isn't as though i won't be making potions. All the same, somethings will be missed. However, it is time i visit those graves of my family, its time i stop running and start resolving.
zub zeron posted @ 02:55 - Link
Thursday, 10 March 2016
Things have come to an end. Forces are being gathered to enter through the seals and behind the door, to see what lies with in. Whether they will return or not, is yet to be determined. I hope to be part of that group even with the dangers implied. I will protect this jland I have come to love, no matter what it costs. If I become a memory, I am willing to take that risk. There is nothing we can do, but take risks now, we are at our last straw. We must fight back with all that we got, or let Valorn fall. But if the door wasn’t enough, an attack from outside, from Balthy is prominent. So another group is being kept back to protect and last as long as they can. Olivia has chosen to join this group, and in a way, I knew she would. This separation disturbs me, not because of her safety or the distance between us, as she has proven time after time that she is very capable. No what I fear and disturbs me, is the feeling that I have failed her, for I do not know whether or not I will return. What consoles me is the knowledge that no matter what happens, I will remain in her mind, and that she will go on. Now that I stand at the border of no return, I realize that my attempt at capturing a sunrise on canas has always been a failure. I can not capture that moment, the oment when Sunrifter shines his light through out the darkness. Not because I am a terrible artist but because it is not a moment and neither am I and Olivia like I first thought. No, the sunrise and what Olivia and I are, is something greater; we are not a moment but an event. The sunrise changes colors, the clouds move, Sunrifter rises and falls, things are constantly changing. I have changed as well, my ideas and goals shifting every turn. I am no longer the man who first stepped upon this land, now I am a man with knowledge, wisdom, and experience. I view things differently but in the end, in a way, I am still myself. The same goes with the sunrise, it changes and shifts, but no matter what happens, when it rises at dawn every turn, it remains as Rifter’s greeting. So no matter what happens, I will always carry a sunrise in my heart.
zub zeron posted @ 16:02 - Link
Wednesday, 17 February 2016
So many things have gone by, I can't name them all. Yet I feel I am missing something. I have yet to find that one thing... the one thing i have sought for so long. It remains out of my reach, but i feel it close like the moon upon the surface of a lake. I see yet, yet I can not claim it. I can hear it calling yet, I can not locate it. When we step upon the land, there is nothing to us, but that does not matter. What matters is who we become, the name which we form and mold. A name which will always carry our definition like engraved stone, nothing nor nobody having and second ideas or questions to our meaning. I hunt to seek, and what I seek I find, where ever it lies and where ever it waits, I will be there, just turn away.
zub zeron posted @ 22:31 - Link
Wednesday, 10 February 2016
WHAT A TURN!
It has been some time since i pulled you out my friend, and written upon your pages, but here i am now. I have so much i could fill in, but of course, like the cruel person that i am, I won't give you all the details. Where to begin... I guess at the center of things. I have always been rather reserved in the things I do, but thanks to a wonderful cleric, she has helped me to put out ideas. One of these ideas so happenned to be a mystery challenge. Something i thought many would like, and I wasn't disappointed. For the first mystery challenge, I decided to host or lead a class in potion making. Oh how to forget that turn, it was a mess. I really felt bad for jeffrey who was cowering beneath the bar before ogre pallas went over and banged on the counter. I sware if there was a jumping contest, Jeffrey would have won, hehe. Things didn't go as planned, but that is one rule in potion making we can't change, expect things to be unplanned. Sadly, my mad assistant brought the wrong set of potions, and instead she got the exotic creatures set... hopefully Olivia never gets her hands on this book or i may never hear the end of it. But back to the tale, well, when my students mixed their potions all but one pair of individuals got turned into some creature. Poene and Lowrenzo were the only 2 students who managed to create something useful, and so they were the only ones i could call potion masters. Yet I have a feeling that, I will make potion mastters out of Ary, Sorynn, Bibi, and Zarrock! Not sure of Pallas yet, perhaps if I convince him to loosen up on the ale, he might have a chance. He actually may make a good potion taster which is almost as good as a potion master, with a little practice, I think i will have a graduating class some time soon! I do worry about Pallas though, those night crawlers... well you could say they strengthenned the potion and not sure when the effects will completely ware off, if ever.
zub zeron posted @ 13:42 - Link
Monday, 04 January 2016
The Air The air speaks of trouble. The night rumbles with unease, while sunrifter reigns with peace. We stand beneath these things, and yet we dare hope. We have rushed upon a plateau that promises protection, yet it is ready to crumble at any step. The air speaks of tension. Tension that once released, will unleash a domino effect. Whether they are good or bad, stoppable or not, we no not. For now, a wild card is in play. Where everything was straight forward, things are now mixed colors, hard to distinguish ally from foe. All thanks to this wild card that is in play, this so called archmage, who's face shows more sides than a double sided coin. Who's allegiance is unsecure and who dares to let us hope.
zub zeron posted @ 20:39 - Link
Monday, 30 November 2015
Fantasy or Reality
Whether I had one to many drinks, or if I can't comprehend that I am simply living a dream, I don't know. Years has gone by in which I got used to being the drift wood that simply got tossed about by the frothing waters, trying to ride out the storm, and fighting a pointless battle. Riding the waves way up high, just to plummet with a heavy sigh. I can't tell the difference from my own insanity, to that of reality, for she has caused more turmoil, than the storm when it boiled. Her laughter a melody to my ear, the gentle roaring of a waterfall as it rushes and tips over a cliff. Her touch, a soothing warmth, that melts all in its path, and manages to penetrate my scerious border into my deepest corners. And poor I... I can't get enough, as her touch as become as entoxicating as sweet lemon tarts. How much more of this haunting will I be able to take before my heart breaks, well I am willing to test it and see what it will make. I have lived so long in my own shadow, that this sudden flood of emotions, things which were stories of the past, have become a haunting. It is a haunting because, it has taunted me, showing me something better than this storm which I have created for myself; a storm that has turned my soul into an angry sea, my emotions, now choppy water and surging waves that collide with one another before retreating back into a calm sea. then, once again, becoming the angry sea, trapping me in an endless cycle in which I have nowhere to flee. Yet, her closeness is a luring life line, that promises to pull me out of these frothing waters, and give me the calm that is said to be after a storm. I however, fear to take such an alluring life line, afraid that if I do take it, it will simply disperse like fog borne upon the wind, turning out to be a figment of my own imagination and longing, and pulling me beneath the waves I have struggled against for so long. But even now, her smell floods my foggy mind, invading my nose and my memories like the salty air of the ocean water does my lungs. It has caused me to slowly loosen my grip against my own resistance, my fingers slipping on the uneven surface of my uncertainty. Yet, her intelligent eyes, and soft flowing hair, her words which have become my staircase, and the warmth of her closeness have become the hurricane that threatens to tare the man I have become by pain and trial; but also the fountain of reserve that promises to keep me safe and preserved.
zub zeron posted @ 16:17 - Link
Thursday, 19 November 2015
The Forest's Secret
I write this, to warn those who walk this land, to beware the forest, for it is not as safe as it seems. Things hide beneath its roots, behind its branches, and up above, in its canopy. Things that are best unsaid, or else they may just haunt one's dreams for cycles on end. However, there is one thing I shell speak of, on thing I must record, in hopes of saving many from becoming a prey. In the forest lies something more twisted than that of a tree's trunk struck by lightning. Something more horrid than the horrors Balthazar commands, and terrizes the people of Valorn. This beast, this thing, is silent and stocks those passing through the forest. I can testify to this, from ersonal experience, an experience that I barely survived. The first signs of this beastly thing, is the daggers at your back. Daggers that are often unnoticed, and hard to detect. For they have no trace besides the uneasy feeling they poison there prey with. These daggers are in the form of glowing eyes, that peer behind a vale of darkness. There menace evident just by a glance.
zub zeron posted @ 14:45 - Link