Welcome to the thoughts of a Dwarf. This intrepid site is designed primarily to allow a place where I can store all of my writings, be it stories or poems or illogical philosophical rants. I hope to be able to provide interesting reading material for my friends and the random stranger who somehow gets sucked off course and finds this sight. Feel free to comment or even request stories. The more inspiration that I have, the more I can explore the limits of imagination and using literary works to rest for a moment from the tedious demands of reality.

In the beginning, I will be uploading many of my already written works. Though most of them are written for the gaming website Achaea.com, which is a text based MUD that I have been playing since 1998. My current main character in Achaea is the Dwarven Paladin known as Goryllin. His viewpoint is used in many of my current stories, as I draw upon his life and his world to create the science fantasty realities in which my story characters dwell.

Achaea is a medieval setting fantasy world, filled with Dwarves, Humans, Trolls, and many more fantastical races and professions. It is a living and breathing world in that every player has a chance to change the world and its direction. It is a player driven roleplay enhanced realm where combat, life, death and yes even taxes are all a part of the experience. We wouldn't mind having you drop by for a visit and pint of ale, if you do visit please send Goryllin a message and he will be glad to help you.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

New Story in the works!

Thanks to a lot of prodding from one of my very best friends, Joanna, I have begun to work on a story about a dragon, and a book that he is reading.

If you have any dragon related stories, artwork or etc that you would like to share- I would love to hear from you!

I will post a few excerpts as soon as they make it past the very vicious purple ink of my editor.

Again, keep me in the loop with your comments and requests- I love to write for the people who can manage to read what I have written :)

(The picture is from http://dark.pozadia.org as part of their downloadable dragon wallpapers)

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Duty Versus Love

This is not my original work. But an illustrative story that I was told. I am not sure who the original author is, or if it is one of those things that simply lives in the collection of cool and inspiration things that we use to keep us going.


A man and a woman got married, but there was no true love in the relationship.

The man did not understand what a real marriage meant, and he was very controlling and demanding. So much so that he sat down and created a list of his demands and expectations, reaching even as far as writing down when his wife must wake up, when his food must be ready, and exactly how the house should be taken care of in his absence.

This really grated on his wife and caused a lot of conflict in their marriage, but duty compelled her and she struggled to meet these demands. A number of restless and disgruntled years pass in this manner, until one day a bar fight gets out of hand and the man passes away.

Over time the woman meets another man and this time actually falls in love. Her love was returned in kind by this man, and he cherished her with everything that he had. They took their time but eventually were married in a wedding filled with true bliss and happiness. And even after marriage, the husband treasured his wife and devoted his life to doing things to show her how much she meant to him.

As life goes on, the woman sighs in joy at not being held to a list of demands and feels liberated. A few years down the road of this blissful journey, she discovers an old piece of paper tucked away in a cupboard. Unrolling it, she is startled to find a copy of her previous husbands demanding list of expectations. Leaning against the counter she began to read it once again.

A tear slowly drips down her face as she perused the document, and even more glisten in her eyes as she finishes it and slowly drops it to the counter. Despite the tears, a broad smile creases her face and she gives a small giggle of surprised glee. For she realized that despite not having a list of demands from her husband, she was still doing the things that the previous one had demanded.

Only this time, she was doing them for love and not for duty.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

More than a Storm.

Steely gray eyes stare relentlessly across the void. Dark and full eyebrows furrowed as the man contemplated the unknowable questions of life. A slight twitch sets firm jaw muscles quivering as he turns slightly and glares down at the packed grass beneath his feet. His visage remains a mask for a few moments more, as certain thoughts rumble inside his head. A speck of gold briefly swims in the depths of his brown eyes before he closes his eyelids and emits a painful groan.

Resolutely, the man places one foot in front of the other and forces himself to walk forward a few paces, leaving his residence behind and stumbling into the open space for a brief moment. Dropping down to land upon a single bent knee, the man grimaces as he struggles to hold back his fears and even his tears. Flinging his head back as if to let loose a fierce yell, he is suddenly enchanted by the vision of the few moon above him, only slightly hidden by the clouds. But that very beauty soon begins to eat at him and the conflicted emotions crossing his face tells a tale to which not even a bard could do full justice.

Thoughts churning in his head, the man cannot even decide which thought to entertain, nor which emotion is truly suited. His low voiced growl of frustration is answered with a responding rumble of thunder and he briefly glances around before deciding that his inner storm is more important than any outside force.

"Do I love her?" rings in his head, demanding an answer that he can not seem to provide. The romantic idea of love pulls at him, but how can he know what is true when his emotions change every second. A fond memory of a moment with her surfaces and a slow smile steals across cracked lips. But then comes a harsh reminder of the truth in her actions and he growls in pure frustration. Sweet words seem to linger in the air, as conversations replay in his mind. Forcibly he reminds himself of the value as words, remembering the last kiss she shared with her as she chose a different path.

Anger pours through him now, though at himself and with no other target. "I swore that I knew better. Swore I was not going to let myself get hurt. I Swore that I could be just friends and not ask for anything more." A knotted fist pounds the dirt beside him and feels moist dirt cover his flesh. Surprised, the man opens his eyes and notices that rain has begun falling in a steady cadence. A wry chuckle echos in the air around him, as the realization strikes home that the weather is most appropriate to his current situation.

With that realization, it is as if a dam bursts within him and suddenly he can not hold back. Fire burns through his blood as he feels the heat of passion again, feels the touch of her skin and hears the pearling tones of her laughter. Raindrops land upon his skin and hiss away in steam as his body reacts to the recollection of her caress. A bolt of lightning rips across the night sky, splitting the world asunder in exactly the same moment as pain and loss fills the heart of the man. Screaming out against the dark of night, he feels again the hurt burning inside when he saw her in the arms of another man. Rage pours forth from him now, though he held it in then. "Remember, you had no claim. She was his and not yours, what right do you have to be angry".

His own words seem to slap him across the face and he stumbles for a moment, recognizing the pang of jealousy in the last flickers of the lightning leaping between clouds. Truth settles in his soul as he remembers those last fateful moments. He told her to choose, told her that there can only be one world in her life. Told her that he would accept whatever she chose and walk that path happily. But his tears coursing down his face begin to mix with the heavy raindrops that are hurtling down around him. "It would never work, there is much wrong. She doesn't even know me" he tells himself in a mumbled exertion. And just as he begins to feel a moment of comfort in that, suddenly he recalls the sparkle in her eyes as they share a moment just gazing at each other. Nothing else exists when she looks at him like that, the entire world stands still.

Stumbling to his feet against the wind and rain, the man stares forlornly into a night which he can no longer see. Every second that he breaths comes another emotion. Deep down, he knows that the past is the past and what has ended will not begin again. Practical thoughts seem to have little hold at this moment though, as another lightning bolt crackles down to shatter the tree next to him. Bowing his head for a moment, he breathes deeply to calm his thoughts. When he raises his eyes again, the fire in his eyes is reflected by the burning branches twisting against the thunderstorm. At last his emotions begin to fade, replaced by the soft patter of a healing rain. Once again, he places one foot in front of the other and continues along his journey. A gentle breeze caresses his face and gently tugs at his lips until he graces the world with a brief smile. Perhaps there is hope for the future after all. As the storm inside ends, the world outside no longer looks so grim.

Monday, May 14, 2012

The Decision: To be a Squire or a Knight

This is for H.A.

He requested a story and some advice that deals with how to approach the realization that you made a mistake and turned away someone for whom you had real feelings. I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment.


The squire stares into space, eyes open but unseeing.

The gentle cry of a hawk sounds in the distance, but even that majestic sound fails to leave an impression. The world spins upon its axis, and yet still the squire stares. Searching forward in time, seeking answers to questions he is not even able to properly form. In all of his musing, no escape from the past presents itself and now the present demands attention. Closing his eyes tight, he remembers the infamous words that he can never seem to retract. He really did tell her that "I don't really love you like that".

A frustrated huff escapes the lips of the brooding squire, as he leans back against the tree he has taken refuge in. At one point, he was the epitome of confidence. Always knew what he wanted and where he was going, strode briskly forward and took life by the horns. Smooth and assured, it seems like nothing would ever go wrong. But now, now how can he go on? How can he face tomorrow when the memory of yesterday flashes before his eyes seemingly every second. He was sure he knew what he wanted, that he was never meant to settle down or tie himself to just one place. He was going to be a Knight! A champion whom all would admire, surely he would be sought after and never have to worry about companionship.

Dark furrows creased the brow of the squire, in complete contrast to the peaceful stillness of the meadow around him. Within his mind, a mental storm raged with utmost ferocity. Questions forming and dashed aside, emotions roiling but not addressed. How had things gotten this way, what had so complicated his life now? It was one simple sight, and yet he can never forget it or block it out. How dare he be so upset, so torn and lovesick, when he was the one who told her to move on. And yet nothing else matters but the repeating image of her full lips firmly locked upon those of another man.

One thought beats a tune in his mind until finally he can focus upon it. Does he really care that deeply for her, or is it just the fact that she has found comfort in the arms of another that has so upset him? A discomforting thought for sure, he slowly muses while clenching his armored fists against each other. His training has taught him to be calm and slow in his reactions, to judge the situation and determine outcomes before moving. And yet every time that he comes back to considering this problem before him, it is as if nothing else matters. The simple fact that he wants to see her, hold her, kiss her again has completely distracted him from all other worries. Even his weapons lie beside him in disarray, no longer able to keep his mind away from these pestering questions.

As a lonely cloud drifts across the pale blue sky, the squire feels a determination building up within him. These feelings can not be false, how deep they are and how much they have affected him. Something must surely be true here. Slowly his internal storm resides and he grows steadier, his eyes beginning to glow again as he realizes that he again has confidence. Now instead of regretting what is lost, he ponders how to address his errors and regain the rhythm to his heartbeat. How do you take back words that can never be retracted, how do you heal a pain that one should experience in the first place. No wizard stood before the squire with an easy answer or a magical wand to wave. His mentors and Knights taught him the art of battle and combat, not of navigating the powerful currents known as love.

Pulling himself onto one knee, the squire plants his sword into the dirt and leans upon the hilt. Surely there must be an answer, a recourse to address this terrible tragedy. Chivalry would not allow for the most direct means of simply marching into her presence, grabbing her close, and telling her that he was wrong. Besides, how could she possibly believe or listen to him if he did that? It would look like the arrogant action of one who is jealous and believes he has a claim. No, this path must be slowly trod and carefully measured. If the feelings beating within his chest were true and as deep as he considered them, then they would be his guidance. He must harken back to the times of yore, realized what she cared for and prove that he truly listened and cared about the things that she cares about. To prove that he truly cares about her.

Muscles rippling beneath him, the squire steadily rises and strides forward. No true answer has yet presented itself, but he is determined that he will not give up without a fight. A Knight shall not be known for moping around wondering what might have been, and so this squire has decided to act like a Knight even before receiving his spurs. He must tell her of his feelings, this is obvious. But only if he truly cares and has paid attention to the beat of her heart does he have a chance. If he cared only for her attention and not truly for her, then it would be best to turn away now and mold himself to be the Knight of the future. In his heart beats the truth, the truth of his decision.

As the squire disappears into the gathering dusk, a question lingers. How does someone prove that their love is true, that the words of the past where a mistake, that there is a future together? The soft twitter of birds as they come to rest in the tree branches illuminate an answer. Slow down and stick to the true beat of the heart, take the time to show a true interest, communicate, be open and honest. No excuses uttered to hide painful admissions, but only words of truth backed by honest actions of caring. And then the strength to accept the response and bear it like a true Knight.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

A Vanished Memory

An Achaean post. Most of the activities here are descriptions of actions and attacks that happen in the game of Achaea

Gales of icy rain pelt the landscape with fury, while magic lightning arcs down to draw screams of pain. Flickering flames linger to trace the arc of fiery meteors, as terrible destruction falls upon the city like rain.

The steady thrum of arrow flights fill the background noise, as fear begins a radiance within the mind. Massive maws suddenly open to swallow men whole, as demons devour souls and leave the bodies behind.

Steely gray eyes sternly pierce the darkness like rapiers, as the captain of the guard steadfastly stands his ground. Strictly barking orders as he marshals fearful troops, the captain still prays for the solution not yet found.

Gathering his remaining courage and his men, the captain sets forth to join in the heightening fray. Rallying every soul that can hear his shouted call, the captain leads the last fateful charge to seize the day.

The clatter of moving armor mingles with coarse yells, as excited and anxious feet pound hard upon the road. Strangled men fall while others are ripped away with laughter, still the captain charges towards the path destiny showed.

A large stone wall suddenly rises up from the ground, breaking the charge as bodies collide in disgrace. Furiously the captain begins to scream new commands, which fade to silence as he succumbs to Death's embrace.

With a valiant shout, one knight continues ever onward, pushing his mount forward just enough to leap the wall. Blades scything downwards shredding enemies to either side , the knight struggles just to stay astride and to not fall.

Summoning all of his fury and silent prayers, desperate inspiration from on high fills this knight. Divine strength and stamina ripples through his muscles, as his God heeds his prayers and responds to his plight.

Gathering his weapons the knight gallops through the streets, hastily dodging traps and shrugging off many attacks. Clashing metal blades echo eerily in the night, as the enemy's once hardened resolve quietly cracks.

Bleeding profusely from every small cut and deep wound, the valiant knight staggers forward and refuses to fail. Exhaustion and utter pain seeping from his pores, he barely dodges the wildly slashing dragon tail.

Eyes locked together in the deadliest of struggles, single knight circles gleaming dragon with a weary pace. Frightening flames burst around his shield's hard edges, and a ferocious jaw closes just before his face.

The avatar of Death looms close with mocking laughter, as puny limbs shatter uselessly between gnawing teeth. A solitary prayer slips out in desperation, heeded with a startling reflection off the knight's sheath.

As scaled fury is briefly paused in blind confusion, a trumpet sounds in the distance to call a quick retreat. Hissing fills the air as the dragon lifts off in flight, responding to the pull of the commanding beat.

Tears of useless rage stream down the weathered face, as the knight surveys the heavily torn and damaged city. Wondering just what purpose could this destruction have, as whatever is left is now filled with only pity.

Grimly gathering his reigns gently with a now broken hand, the knight lingers one last time to gather goods and feed. Sorrow bends his back as he ventures into the mountains

That was the last that was seen of my hero and his steed.

Heelllpp! An opportunity!

Several of my friends and colleagues have been pressing me to get into actually writing on a more common and consistent basis. And with enough pressure, compliments and ego stroking, I might just be ready to do that.

The last few days have been eye opening, in terms of emotional expanses and also insight into the human mindset. Now I would like to turn to writing something a little less personal life orientated and use it as a way to clear my head and give my friends and fans something to read that does not come across as a love torn bard. Haha.

So now I will very subtly disguise a plea for assistance and make it look like an opportunity for personal glory!

Anyone who becomes (or remains) a follower of the blog may make a comment on this post with their suggestion/request for a certain storyline or idea and I will personally dedicate a short story to you with that particular topic. Intrigued?

Some rules first! You must be a follower and make a non-anonymous comment. That way I can identify with you, focus the story on your request, and brag about what a cool follower you are. Also, I will hold the right to creative liberty as the story develops. Say that you want a story of a little man over coming a bully- that's perfectly fine, but the story might not be about the traditional physical bully! The magic of the literary world is the endless possibilities, so be ready to be surprised.

I have very few subjects that I will not explore and write about, though I have mentioned in this blog before that I will not write from the perspective of one who has passed on from this life.

If you want the story to be about you, provide some details and make it a bit of an alternative life. Sometimes the way a character moves might not reflect your own thoughts, so allow fantasy instead of reality!

All in all, I am excited to be challenged. To actually have expectations and ideas to meet that are not generated within my own mere mortal brain.

Are you up for it? Who dares comment first?

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

The beginning, is it also the ending?

First and foremost, there is no ill will here. Not towards the Angel who has so captured me and carried away my imagination and desire. Nor towards the innocent other party on the other end of the spectrum. None of these feelings were planned, sometimes the world twists upon itself and throws our plans into disarray.

The story starts with a friendship, no ulterior motives or plans need apply. A quickly growing comradeship develops into an appreciation of like mind, quick wit and banter ease understanding and allow true laughter. Gentle chiding and teasing sarcasm lay a ground work for comfortable rapport.

Unwittingly, harmless flirting slowly blooms into serious compliments. Off handed gestures develop romantic flourishes. A simple glance lingers until it becomes a blazing recognition of desire. Struggling to clear the head and remember boundaries dissolves into a longing to feel the passion released.

And thus it grows, ignoring frantic attempts to hold back emotions and safeguard hearts. A wild storm front clears all obstacles and the world seems to fade away. Two souls, entwined, laying on a beach woven of fantasy. Every touch ignites, every caress melts the cares away. A single hesitant kiss tears passion from quivering lips and ends in a panting exclamation of awe.

Magic sweeps through the room, nothing else matters. Time passes, yet it stands still for these two as they gaze searchingly into the eyes of the other. Secrets tumble forth against better judgement,  dreams are shared and even expanded upon. Potential embarrassment and fright becomes a shared sense of understanding and acceptance. The world appears perfect.

But this is just one world, and this angel seems to reside in two worlds now. One she has known and feels the comforts of, and another that was just thrust upon her by fate or chance. These two worlds can not share the same space, they have the same demands and the same desires but two very different outcomes. She can not remain in both, though they tug at her and whisper glorious promises.

And now the angel wraps herself in her wings and flies into the heavens, troubled emotions raging in her breast as she ponders this new reality. How unfair things must seem, as she struggles to understand what happened and how she ended in this predicament. A decision must be made, lest two worlds collide and both die. Yet she is not ready, and so she flees. Dragging a wing in each world, she mourns on the inside and desperately tries to keep her face calm.

Below, the paladin gazes up where his angel disappeared. Both pain and understanding course over his features, as he comes to grip with the fact that his arms are empty of his beloved. Watching her vanish into the distance, he sees the shadow of her wing remaining to gently caress his face. He knows she must feel something for him, but he has no way to judge the heart of an angel. Laying back on the sand, the paladin feels the magic begin to fade but the soft murmur of his name drifts down from above and suddenly he is reminded of her face resting on his chest. Closing his eyes, he lays back and cherishes that memory. While the road ahead is murky and he knows not if he will ever see his angel again, he must continue on and be ready for the future.

One last impulse overtakes the paladin before he departs from the safety of the beach. Reaching down to pluck a few beautiful roses, he arranges them in a simple diagram. Should the angel find herself able to choose his world, he has given her directions to his heart.  

To an angel

I do not know what to say now.

I am falling too far, way too fast. I am becoming addicted to your smile, to the sparkle in your eyes. I shiver at your touch, feel it in my dreams. Every time I open my eyes, I wish I was looking into yours. My heart beats faster just hearing your voice, every day seems to make the craving deeper.

Right now I have no idea how to separate reality from fantasy, the taste of your lips destroys all reasoning. No logic resides here, as I realize that I cherish even your shyest of giggles.

If there is actually nothing here, I need to know now. I need to find a way to stop myself from sinking even deeper into this hole. I didn't meant to venture here, but now I have lost all control.

How can I tell what to do, how do I know what to say. You tell me that you cherish my embrace and want to spend every waking moment with me, but then you spend the entire day in the arms of someone else.

I never expected this impact, I never thought this would happen. I have guarded myself so closely, only letting the exterior show. And yet now I am here, and you are there. And I stand at the doorway and knock. How do we sort this, where do we go from here. Is there truth in the madness, is there something special in the fire. Or were you only seeking release and never meant to stay.

The world is on fire with my emotions, and I can not find the extinguisher. I am open and defenseless, this is not my way.

I want to be confident again, to know where I stand. I want to feel that there is a plan, a reason for these feelings.

Monday, May 7, 2012

It's complicated.

Confusion fills my mind, nothing seems to be clear.
Just a minor lark, so how did we end up here?

Friendship was the intention, all other doors were closed.
But certain words were said, and my heart became exposed.

Against the test of time, I have fortified my will.
And yet but a mere mortal am I, who sets his castle upon a hill.

Not believing my luck, I grasped for reason.
If I knew there was a trick, how can I feel such treason.

Perhaps unwittingly, you knew the secret knock.
Your eyes sank into my soul, and somehow broke the lock.

I swear that I fought against it, that I held myself in check.
Knowing it was too early, yet I still find myself hitting the deck.

Withdrawing now, I watch from afar.
Words hold no power any more, instead smearing like tar.

If only wishes came true, as I stand here watching you.
I would create the most beautiful fantasy, using only us two.

As the sun and the moon circle, I wonder which you choose.
Can you expect to hold both, or did one already lose.

We might have shared dreams, but there seems to be something missing.
Was there truth behind the secret whispers, or just an excuse to be kissing.

I have no answers anymore, and no idea where to turn.
So my feelings are here to see, while my heart slowly burns.

Never did I hold a desire to disrupt, wanting nothing but a friend.
That seems so far away now, as if this is our only trend.

How can you treasure my embrace, and yet return smiling to clutch his arm.
Patiently I try to wait, but every second seems to bring me closer to harm.

To borrow from a song, should I stay or should I go.
Yet no matter what choice you make, I never wish you to be a foe.

Sharing you is impossible, I find myself beginning to understand.
Should never have soared so high, without knowing how to land.

An earnest request drifts on the wind, somehow escaping my sealed lips
End the complicated battle, let me know before my heart rips.

And so I once again consider my feelings, everything must be rated.
With so many ups and downs, all that I can say is "It's complicated"

Farewell Beloved

The scent of delicate flowers fills the air, aromas wafting on the gentle wind that whispers softly through your hair.

Warming rays of light stream through the chapel door, lighting every corner with a pleasing glow.

Expensive silks rustle as the room fills with both the renown the common, a slight buzz of background noise.

The chapel is filled with sounds of pleasantries exchanged, how-are-you's and bless-you's mingle in the air.

All of this drifts past your un-heeding ears, as you contemplate in solemn solitude.

The Chapel door swings open once again and suddenly the room is filled with silence as the Cleric makes his stately pace down the aisle.

With a face filled with solemn promise, the Cleric gently brushes your shoulders in passing as he ascends the pulpit.

As he opens his mouth and leads everyone in a gentle prayer, a solitary tear tracks a wasted journey down your trembling cheek.

As the final words disperse through the air, all behind you rise and bow their heads in great respect as fervent words escape their lips and tears sneak past closely guarded eyelids.

As your eyes close tight with emotion, the Knights before you raise swords in fond salute.

And with a final farewell, you kiss cold unfeeling lips as you lay their lord, and your gallant husband, to his final rest.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012


I have not been doing much lately, battling both a severe ailment and setbacks at work.

However, my mind has been running crazy all over the place. So many different ideas, and yet it always seems like so little time to sort through them and make them work.

My imagination knows no bounds, I swear. Though I did discover that I have to rein it in sometimes, for my own sanity.

Every story that I write, I tend to throw myself into the characters to make sure that their emotions and responses are real. I never go into something with a set plan, nor do I already dictate how things go. I generally start with a basis point A and a hopeful point Z. All of the rest just happens as the characters develop. Sometimes I will intend for a character to be hulking and strong and confident, but the character just doesn't agree. They all have their own lives and feelings.

However, due to the fact that I do envelop myself in the emotions and thoughts of my characters, I must be very careful on what I write about. Again, my imagination and my ability to emphasize and relate to my characters is immensely powerful.

I was recently letting the Evanescence song "My Immortal" just wash over me and considering the story that the song and music video tell. For those not in the know (I feel sorry for you), the song depicts a young man walking through town and the places of his life singing to his love who follows along behind him. The trick is that the person he loves is dead, and so she is just hopelessly watching as he deals with the pain and mourns her loss and how he can still feel her nearby but remains all alone.

It is a very powerful message and song, and my mind starting thinking about doing a story in reverse. Depicting the thoughts and the song of the lost one, instead of from the perspective of the bereaved. As I began to sink into the character, I found myself facing such a desolate wall of emotion, despair and utter chaos that I had to pull back hard and break the immersion. My mind began conjuring just what hurt and loss and utter failure I would feel if I had died and followed my family or loved ones with no way to communicate.

The scene that I discovered was so absolutely horrible and wrenching that I have learned to never peek into that world again. While often my writings ring true and strike against the heart for their willingness to discover and explain the pain of loss and failure, doing it from the perspective of one without hope is a task that I shall never again attempt.

It is the fact that we remain that gives us strength, even with our broken hearts and even when it seems that there is no answer for the horrors we face. There will always be that one accomplishment, however minor it might seem, that 'We still live'.

And now, I just hold to that. No matter what you face, no matter the problems and the issues that come before you. Despite the worst of pains and the most agonizing of heartbreaks, find that kernel of hope. You are still alive.