I'm being replaced.

I know I shouldn't be surprised or upset; it's really my fault--homework mixed with poor time management skills, natch--that I haven't been at practice for the past two months. But it does kind of hurt to realise that Cat is, for all intents and purposes, taking my place in the NOD Squad.

/end "poor me" entry

I hate Dagordrama.

I hate the fact that I can't talk to half of the people in NOD without them accusing me of something or other.

I hate the fact that whatever I apparently did was usually done carelessly, but yet it's seen as malicious.

I hate the fact that it only hit in full force at the start of my Senior year, and that it couldn't have waited or come earlier.

I hate overreacting to everything because of stress.

I hate fluctuating between sensitive and impervious to insult.

I hate confusion, anger, and sudden emotional explosions that do nothing but make me bitter.

I hate Dagordrama.

BADON BADON BADON.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaangst.

More on this development later.

People make me happy sometimes. It's weird when they do, but it's always nice.

"So, if you were here, I would totally kiss you right now."

"Funny, you're the second person to tell me that this week."

"Who's the first person? I'll fuck him up."

"Tycho."

"...yeah, I'll fuck him up. He's fuzzy."

ASDFGHJKL;

RAGNAROK!

Whoo!

Entries upon my return, possibly.

Watching
This is my personal favorite. You can't see it at this size, but the photographer turned my eyes green.


Counsel on the River
Funny story behind this one.
The team sat us on the log, and the lead photographer told us, "We need a shot of a conversation. Something like 'Hey, did you see the hot ranger that passed through here?' 'Yeah, Aragorn is so dreamy!'"
 So as we take our seats, I turn to Riat. The following conversation ensues.
"Yeah, that Aragorn. He was great after he stopped screaming."
"I liked it better when he was screaming."
"He was absolutely divine with lots of butter and lemon."
"Eh. His wife was better in the stew."


Archer on the Run
There's really only one way to describe this one.
"Iz'tel, kill the archer."
"...okay!"

Dagorhir Name
Iz'tel Cloudunta

Physical Description
Forest goblin; 5'4" with green skin and ratty brown hair. Usually keeps it in a ponytail adorned with feathers or strings. Light brown eyes. Pointed ears and small fangs.

SHORT biography (no more than 6 lines!)
Iz'tel was originally Istel Taurinaudis, the aasimar commander of the Kirith Fortress and the last good-aligned unit in the wastelands of NOD. When the fortress fell, she was captured and polymorphed into a forest goblin after she refused to serve as a slave. Many of her memories were lost; the only scraps she's retained of her former existence are her bow, her name--though now corrupted, as she was unable to pronounce the elvish lilt--and her tendencies towards being a smartass. She is prone to delusions of grandeur, going so far as to adopt Nim Blackhand as her "pet drow", and likes to rub her few real triumphs in the face of anyone she can. Currently, Iz'tel is apprenticed to Rakek in hopes that she can gain the rank of Shaman.

What are your chiefest likes, dislikes, or fears?
Likes: Shiny things. Chaos dwarves. Keeping records in ballad form. Scavenging, especially clothing and metallic objects. Screaming as loudly as she can. Smarting off. Bells, especially those of the silver persuasion. Feathers. Divination magics. The color red. Elves, when cooked with plenty of salt.

Dislikes: Elves, when not cooked with plenty of salt (Except Riat).  Being scolded. Narnians. Vampires. Any offering that isn't food, an ear, a tooth, a scalp or something shiny.

Why do you dress the way you dress?
Iz'tel is nothing if not a scavenger. Most of her garb has either been quickly stitched together from scraps or pilfered from corpses; as such, there is no particular theme running through it. She always wears a red sash--her "Belt uv 'aste"--as she believes it makes her faster and more quick-witted. The scalp of a kender hangs from the sash's knot. Iz'tel is usually seen with a makeshift choker as well, with a bell and key hanging from the blue scrap of fabric.

What are your "tag lines" (the things you say the most)
 "EARZ!"
 "I 'afta talk ta da boss, but..."

Thus ends the angst-riddled saga of Jacie and Kipp, with a bittersweet kiss on the platform as the train pulls in.

But with the end of this story begins the tale of Jacie and Nathan.

Here's hoping this'll mark the end of my string of stormy relationships.

And on a completely unrelated note, I'm a gobbo now.

Okay, 'umie, lis'n an' lis'n gud.

You know you can't be lazy when da big boss is 'round. Don' work. You get fumpins an' odah thin's tha' aren't plee-ay-sint.

So why you get all lazy da odah many dayz uv dah week?

I know you wanna sez, "But I goes to skool wiv 'umies! Dey don' smell and has ugly pink skins!"

Yeah, yeah. Iz'tel knows it.

Fink uv it dis way. Don' ask me to, Mork 'n' Gork don' like it when kobold fink too 'ard.

You ain't a kobold. I iz.

You 'av to go be a 'umie for many days. I come out lots, but yer still a 'umie on day-to-day shezul. Be'ave like a 'umie, dammit!

If you don' wan' to fink abou't like dat, fink abou't like dis.

If Stansell wuz da big boss, wud you still be az lazy az yer bein' now?

Just sayin'.

A record of misunderstandings. Set on the rides to Nova's house and home, and written in D&D format.

10:30 pm: We leave for the afterparty in the box. Morgrim and Surg are in the front; Gix, Nim and I are in the back.
10:32: We attempt to leave, anyway. Danni, Kaocyde and Gretchen are not yet in their truck.
10:35: They are now in the truck. We can leave.
10:36: Surg says it might be a good idea to turn the engine on if we want to go anywhere.
10:37: We're actually out of the parking lot and following Kaocyde's truck.
10:43: It's ridiculously difficult to follow the truck. They keep getting through yellow lights faster than we do.
10:47: This would not be a problem if we hadn't just run a red light in front of a cop.
10:48: No lights, though. I think we're good. We turn a couple of corners and get caught at a red light in front of a Sunoco.
10:49: ...fuck. Red and blue lights.
10:50: Not just red and blue lights, though. Five sets of red and blue lights.
10:51: We're fucked.
10:52: A cop approaches Morgrim's window and tells him to roll it down. There is something that bears an uncomfortable resemblance to a gun in his hand (the cop's, not Morgrim's).
10:53: "Put your hands on the wheel, sir." Fuck.
10:54: "Why're you dressed like that? Is this your car? Are you going to a party? Is that a mask?"
10:55: Morgrim fields all the questions admirably. Meanwhile, a female cop comes over to question Nim and I.
10:56: Nim hands over her permit so the cop can examine it. Two cops take down the license and registration numbers of the box.
10:57: The cops go back to their car to compare something. Gix cannot resist making a joke about crack. We hurriedly shut him up, lest he get us in more trouble than we already are.
10:59: The cop who had the gun returns, and apologizes for the inconvenience.
11:00 pm: Uh, what?
11:01: The cop, sans gun, explains that the box has the same license plate number as a car that had been stolen in Minnesota a couple of weeks earlier.  We're off the hook, says he, because our car has Delaware tags and a different registration number. He fails to mention that he was suspicious because of our paint. We get ready to leave.
11:03: Nim and I frantically signal the cop back, as he had forgotten to give her back her permit.
11:15: We arrive at Nova's party and share our tale.
12:33 am: On the way home after Nova's party, Morgrim suddenly asks, "Who the fuck would want to steal a box?"

Already Known: NOD and Varangia have a connection. Possibly less than a friendly connection, but we do look forward to seeing each other at events.

New Information: If one searches Google with one of the following terms, my LiveJournal shows up on the first page.

Varangia: 9th place
Kedric Varangia: 4th place
Drinian Varangia: 1st place (thanks to my last entry)
Post-Thanksgiving Varangia: 3rd place
Vargotta: 3rd place
Varangia Althyng: 9th place

Hyperfocusing much, self?

...I'll be living vicariously through my darling Jen for the next couple of weeks.

It's because I'm the goddamn Batman.

Rather, the goddamn Yenta.

Hoorah for matchmaking!

So while playing Cosmic last night, I discovered something.

That stupid game makes me mad. Really, really mad.

I'm not talking about me going off and throwing around a few good-natured slurs while secretly turning bitter, oh no. I'm talking about the sort of anger that turns one into a serpentine creature; narrowed eyes, hissing voice, and very quick to bite.

The worst bit was my pride. My furor was only compounded by the fact that, "Oh shit, I'm this mad over a game. With friends. Why the hell am I behaving like such an idiot?"

I love Cosmic, I really do. I just completely fail at it and that's what pisses me off.

Apologies to those who had to suffer through my angsty-fits last night.

If it helps, I now have a sore throat. Consider it your revenge.

Ugh.

Disclaimer: This list was cowritten with Nimtheriel Renor'ath during two hours of boredom.  Any inaccuracies are unintentional.

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1.  Perfect my Kobold scream.
2.  Recieve an orkish surname.
3.  Meet at least three of the following people for the first time: Sirilay, Crynolyn, Magnus of Narnia, Whisper, Antonis of the other NOD, Briar Rose, Eep(Hic!), Lykos
4.  Meet at least three of the following people again: Vox, Dominus, Gurrundi, Loki, Graymael, Marlowe, Serraphym, Alric, HitstooHard
5.  Meet up with at least five of the following people again: Aislinn, Kedric, Tycho, Drinian, Nemo, Rog, Frothgar, Vilkas, Sassy, Vors, Gronk, Nik, Butterfly, Morgrim
6.  Work on blue-shots.
7.  Learn to fight sword-and-board properly.
8.  Kill Dominus with an arrow.
9.  Visit at least four different realms.
10. Kill Mog in melee combat.
11. "Capture" a belt-flag from at least one of the following units: The Guard, Rome, House Renor'ath, the Nightstalkers, the Knights Templar, the Geistguiste, Narnia, the other NOD, the Imperial Guard, the Rogin, the Order of Tauren

Subject to change.

Not any just any monster, though.

A Kiramonster.

It would seem that I have a bright, if slightly unwilling, protege. Never minding the fact that she writes prose so purple it could be used to dye Augustus's robes, I am impressed by the general quality of her writing.

Case in point: The following story, a Dagorhir drabble.


Clever child, rehashing a story I didn't even know I had told her.

Althyng in eleven days.

Perhaps it's just the smell of rain in the air, or the fact that the April battle is tomorrow, but I'm antsy. Incredibly antsy.

I feel like I should be doing something right now. Dancing in the storm, perhaps, or archery practice. But I'm hoping to stave off the storm for as long as possible,  and Morgrim and Renegade made off with my bow and arrows this morning.

And strangely, that incident has put me in a really good mood. Perhaps it's something to do with the want of dancing.

Never has a Saturday felt like such a pointless stumbling-block.

You misconstrue any of that, I'll freakin' kill you. 

"I'm a bear, etcetera."
-Mike Birbiglia