Heroes - Inspired by David Bowie's "Heroes"

Dawn broke across the face of the battlefield. The beauty of the scarlet sky marred by the smudge of smoke rising from a makeshift funeral pyre. Milkweed and ash are carried along on the breeze. The day would be mercilessly hot.

In the center of it all, all the bodies and all the misery, lie two figures with hands intertwined. Clearly from houses on opposing sides of the melee, they chose to end their lives together rather than risk being apart for one more moment.

Together now, they rest in peace and in each others arms forever.

Saga of Anterra - Outine - HELP ME WITH IDEAS

Orphaned female elf is trained in combat and healing arts. She avenges the deaths of her family. Then she becomes the healer of the tribe that adopted her.
_______________________________________________



Anterra is found, orphaned, among her dead family. They were killed by a band of rogue men?

Anterra receives training at the school in Morthar and by Grai-El, herbalist, healer, mentor and elder

Anterra ranks high but gets assigned to Healing Arts at Ilthrae,

Anterra receives sword from Grai-El, a special sword made just for her

Goes to Ilthrae with her traveling party

Once at Ilthrae, begins to combat practice as well as start her healing classes

When they go home to Morthar, Grai-El is older still and Anterra  discovers that she is to take Grai-El's place upon the old elf's leaving for the undying lands

She goes back for more training and, knowing she is to go back to Morthar for good next time, she steals away to hunt down the men? before she leaves Ilthrae for the last time. Fenian follows her.

He fights by her side. She saves him from certain death. Fenian falls for her. She may or may not return the affection.

They return to Morthar. Full grown elves.

Finale: The Song of Anterra

For Casey

I think I want you out of my house
I feel like our time is through
I'm tired of everything you say
And every single thing you do

Loss

Gravity drags me down
like misery it causes
too much pain
too much loss
too much grief
It's more than I can bear
Do you hear?
More than I can bear

Gravity melts me
like the sadness that
controls my muscles
controls my tears
controls my sorrow
It's more than I can bear
Do you hear?
More than I can bear

Anterra - night of the Ilthrae naming feast

The sun dipped below the trees. Fires were lit. Tables were laid with the finest wares that the elves had to offer. The domestics worked throughout the day readying for the celebration. There was a sumptuous feast laid out for the entire tribe. The silver goblets and copper steins caught and reflected the firelight as the sun descended. All was aglow in euphoria.

The younglings proceeded down the forest path and into the widening circle of elves, two by two. Anterra was paired up with Fenian, her rival in the arena, her friend otherwise. A palpable hush fell over the entire tribe as the students assembled.

Ayrdan-El, the leader of the tribe, began. "Tonight we gather here, as one, to rejoice and revel in accomplishment and felicity. Tonight we are all brothers and sisters, as we are in all of life. Speak your loving thoughts to each other and say your farewells. Do not hold on to your melancholy musings. Remember we are, all of us, unceasingly intertwined. You who are Ilthrae bound will begin now to build your next stage of life. You are academy members! Go forth and excel at your crafts and make good use of your time. Here now is Tyrulan, our head scholar, to begin the naming ceremony for the evening."

A respectful round of applause rose from the crowd. Tyrulan, a tall, bookish elf with just a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, stepped up to the rostrum and regarded his students with affection. Time after time, he felt this way on the eve of Ilthrae; that this was his best and strongest class of youngsters to date. He knew it was his closeness to the young elves and the pride with which he had watched them all advance so expertly that he held them in highest esteem upon leaving for the academy. Again and again, he mourned the emptiness of the arena and the lecture hall. And then, a new assemblage of students would arrive at the door of the school, fresh-faced and eager to learn. And the process would begin anew.

And so the naming ceremony began. Each elf's name was called, one by one, and each would stand and be told of his or her assignment at Ilthrae. Fenian was called and, of course, got into the combat arts. Two more, one to learning arts and one to fine arts. Another to combat. And so it went.

Finally, it was Anterra's turn. She smiled slightly. She was sure to get into combat arts. She had bettered everyone in the arena during the tournament. Her name was called. "Anterra, of the house of Grai-El, you shall be specializing in the healing arts. You should know this was a difficult decision. We are aware of your natural skill with your weapons and you will continue to be trained while there, but you will be concentrating on the art of herbs and healing at Ilthrae." Anterra was paralyzed with confusion. How is it that she was not going into combat training? It was all she ever wanted, all she ever trained for. Her eyes began to pool but she could not let herself be seen as anything that overjoyed by the appointment. She turned to Fenian, who looked at her wide-eyed.

"Terra, I don't know what to say! I can't believe you won't be in my classes." Fenian exclaimed in a hushed tone. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder.

She replied, "I don't know, Fenian. I hope I get to talk to Grai-El before I go. I have to find out what all this is about. I thought for sure, I mean, you agree. Right? This doesn't make any sense!" Some of the others' attention was being pulled away from the head scholar as they were becoming involved with the conversation between Anterra and Fenian. Tyrulan shot the group a glance that quieted them down immediately. The scholar finished with the naming. Eighteen students would be sent off to Ilthrae before dawn. Eighteen empty beds would greet the new day at Morthar.

They would go by beast to Ilthrae. Anterra had Po. The loneliness would not be so bad for her as for some of the others who were taking family horses or stock animals with whom they had no spirit connection. All elves were attuned to all animals but, for most, it was more of an understanding of the symbiosis that all things are connected. For those with the gift, such as Anterra, it was a heightened sense of that being and that being was imprinted upon the elf. In Anterra's case, the fact that her spirit beast was a unicorn made the pair all the more rare. Unicorns were not unheard of but they were rarely spotted.

Anterra craned her neck, trying to find Grai-El in the circle surrounding them. Finally she saw the healer, who caught her eye and winked. That made her feel a little less anxious. She was sure that Grai-El could set her mind at ease and tell her what this was all about. As far as she knew, there was no learning pod for the healing arts. She was very confused by the whole matter.

Next, the students would receive their swords. They were presented by the head of each household, Anterra's to be bestowed by Grai-El, her official guardian. One by one, the students took possession of beautiful elvish made blades, varying slightly in style depending on it's owners fighting style. Seventeen blades were distributed. And now it was Anterra's turn. Grai-El stepped forward.

"I, Grai-El, mentor and guardian, do hereby entrust this blade, forged in the fires of our best craftsmen, to my student and 'daughter', Anterra. May she be swift and true with this blade and may she never need to use it." And with that, Anterra stepped forward and allowed Grai-El to fasten the scabbard around her waist. The weight of it felt good.

As Grai-El stepped away from the girl, Anterra unsheathed her sword. It was a thing of beauty. Marbled beauty in the Damascus blade. Black and silver pommel with black leather grip. Slightly shorter than the average blade and slightly thinner, making it lighter and easier for the elf to maneuver. It was for a reason the blade was lighter. Anterra would never have the upper body strength that the male elves would have. The lighter weight was smarter for an elf maiden than the blade of one of her male counterparts. She would be able to retain her quickness and agility with this blade.

She was in awe of her new sword and immediately thought of the day she would be able to put it through the heart of the one responsible for her family's deaths. She smiled cruelly for a mere moment and the firelight glinted in her eyes. Grai-El noticed. She prayed that the elf did not make a move before being fully trained.

Drifting, Floating

Drifting
Floating
All around
The motes glimmer
On the air

Climbing
Weaving
All around
The notes glisten
On your ear

Dancing
Twirling
All around
The joy astounding
In her heart

Leaving
Loving
All around
The sorrow pounding
In your heart

Anterra - last afternoon with Grai-El before the ceremony and celebration - IN PROGRESS

Anterra found her way to the clearing one final afternoon. Her feeling of exhilaration was wearing thin. It was starting to sink in that, on the morrow, she would be traveling with the others. There would be time for no meal, the elves choosing to leave before daybreak would take their refreshment when the sun was above the trees. They would travel briskly, stopping only to water their mounts and refill their water pouches.

Grai-El was out in the clearing, eyes closed and head back, humming up into the trees. Anterra stopped short. She rarely got to witness the elder practicing her wood-speak. Stepping quietly behind a tree, she listened. It was as if there were bells in the trees. Her vision misted and she realized she was beginning to cry. Whether this was in response to the beauty of the sound, or the fact that today was the last time she would see Grai-El for quite some time, she couldn't say. But quietly she wept.

Soon, she became aware of the silence. The healer had concluded her song and the forest was silent. Anterra composed herself with a deep breath and stepped from behind the tree. As she came into the clearing, she realized there was no birdsong, no movement of any kind that she could perceive. Grai-El stood, arms to her sides, and beamed at the young elf. "Anterra," she began. "I have been waiting for this day since you came to us. It is with more melancholy than I expected that I say good-bye to you today. I will not be there to see you off in the morning. You will remember that, in the past, those setting off for Ilthrae seemed to vanish after the feast. Tonight you will be sent off to sleep one last night in your bed. In the morning, you will rise before daybreak and leave for Ilthrae. No-one in the tribe will be there to see you off. This is your first step into adulthood."

Anterra listened with a heavy heart. Her eyes had misted over again and she had a lump in her throat. She could only nod, she had no words. Feeling as if her world was being pulled out from under her again, she could barely manage a whispered response. Grai-El began to chuckle. "My dear girl, you will realize by tomorrow this time that this is the natural order of things. Your adventure begins!" She clapped her hands and then held them out for Anterra to take.

"Why is the forest silent, Grai-El? It's not even this quiet at night!" The girl inquired curiously. Grai-El did not answer. She merely closed her eyes and slightly smiled. Only now did Anterra begin to hear the slow creep of forest beings gathering near. Only now did she hear the low thrum in the trees, a sort of droning. Only now did the birds begin to twitter from the branches around them.

"I have informed the entire hamlet of your departure for Ilthrae. They are mourning you, Anterra. Every being is intertwined here. We shall feel the emptiness just as you will feel the loneliness." She paused. "Rely on each other now. Build a new family with your fellows, enter this stage of your life and know that each day will bring you new experiences and new knowledge. Remember what you have learned and apply it to each new moment." She released Anterra's hands and stepped forward to embrace her. Tears began a slow descent down the child's face as Grai-El's arms encircled the girl. "Be brave and be wise. Be kind and be true."

She released the young elf and smiled, with a hint of melancholy, and, with shining eyes, said, "And now let us spend our final time together reflecting amongst all of your family." And with that, the two elves began to amble, side by side, through the trees and among the creatures of the forest.

Anterra - the morning of the celebration

Day broke beautifully, salmon sky with few clouds. The nocturnal animals settled in to their day-sleep after foraging throughout the night. A light mist rose from the forest and dissipated. Silence. Then the explosion of birdsong that heralds each new day. And with that profusion of twittering and warbling, the elves began to stir.

It was a new day, a day of celebration and good-byes. This was the day the young elves had been working so diligently toward. They would find out before they left Morthar how they ranked after the 3 day tournament that assigned each student to a learning pod at Ilthrae. Some elves would spend their time specializing in the art of combat, others in the learning arts, others in the fine arts. This was how each elf received his or her responsibility within the tribe. They would each accept their own elvish sword at the naming ceremony, along with their assignment.

Anterra awoke, fresh and excited about the day. As she readied, she made a point of telling herself that it didn't matter what learning pod she was assigned to, she would be learning the arts of combat while at Ilthrae. Even if she was not destined for the brigade or cavalry, she would still receive much training. It was as important as what was taught within the halls of the academy.

The most exciting thing about today was that each young elf would be granted his or her elven-crafted swords. They would train daily with the sword they were given, they would take that sword into battle after battle. It was as much a part of them as the animals of those that had spirit beasts. Anterra knew that with a sword and her spirit beast, Po, she would have much more of an advantage when it came time to deal with those that had destroyed her family. She felt mounting confidence, this was her destiny.

All the younglings descended out of the trees, chattering and laughing amongst themselves. It was a nervous, excited mirth. The entire tribe gravitated toward the area they gathered to take their repast. Anterra was going to veer into the copse to see her friend and mentor, Grai-El, but she saw that the healer was walking toward her up the path from the woods.

"Peaceful morning to you, Anterra!" Grai-El was in a heightened state but was careful not to show it. She did not want to overshadow the young elf's big day. Anterra gleaned that the healer was caught up in all the excitement though, she usually waited to be addressed. This attention to detail and ability to recall were some of the characteristics that made Anterra the special elf that she was. Not many held her skill with a blade and no-one else in the tribe had the gift of wood-speak. She didn't realize how set apart she was from her peers. No-one had made mention of it. She received her training in the ring with them all. However, she alone had class time with Grai-El.

"Peaceful morning to you, too, Grai-El!" She couldn't help but have a little skip in her step, so keyed up was she with the anticipation of tonight's ceremony. "I could hardly sleep last night but when I did, it was a dreamless sleep. Why do you think that is?" She looked over to her mentor, and only then noticed the strands of silver woven into her hair. This was one of the only signs that Grai-El was an elder. The elf looked as hale and hearty as any other, but had wisdom in her eyes and a sprinkling of snow in her hair.

"I think you may not have remembered your dreams because you are anticipating tonight's ceremony. It's perfectly normal for the conscious to over-ride the subconscious. You will find that in times of stress, before an important occurrence, your dreams may become suppressed. There is nothing to worry about, young one. All your dreams are still in your head, just waiting for the right opportunity to manifest."

Anterra nodded in acknowledgement. The two continued on in silence until they were swallowed up by the others in the glade. At a series of dining tables arranged around the large clearing used by the elves to take meals, socialize and rejoice, as well as to host travelers and other visitors, they all gathered. Small groups of elves gravitated toward this table or that. Some were animated and excited. Others seemed slightly somber at the idea of having to say goodbye to their loved ones. But tonight all would be merriment and celebration.

Upon filling their bowls with fruits, nuts, freshly baked breads, and honey, they wandered over to the scattered tables. Anterra saw that Fenian was waving her over to join him and some of the others. She looked to Grai-El. The healer smiled and nodded her head. She rarely joined in the mealtimes. It would be pleasant to mingle with the young ones on this, a most joyous of days.

The table rang with laughter and voices shouting over each other. There were silly antics and good-hearted ribbing. All were in fine spirits at this dining table on this fine morning.

Breathe easy

Dancers twirl and whirl
As a singer paints the world
With words both deadly and sweet
And you never can tell
If you're going to hell
And the parting will be bittersweet

So take care my dear friend
This isn't nearly the end
We've got miles until we can rest
As I've said to this day
We'll never go astray
So breathe easy and know that you're blessed

The beginning of the Saga of Anterra - IN PROGRESS

Her parents were dead. She was a child and she was alone. Grai-El, the tribe's elder and healer, took it upon herself to watch over Anterra until she could be assigned a function within the tribe. Or, if she had her way, she would be sent to Ilthrae, the academy for elves who show aptitude for the natural arts and the ways of combat. She couldn't tell with certainty yet, but Grai-El had a strong feeling about this young elf. She exhibited more maturity and skill in many ways than young elves already in training.

First, she placed the youngling in the dormitories with the adolescent students, who were all at least twice her age. She settled in quietly. Every day, the young elves clamored down from the trees and did what they were told. She fit in well and flourished in her new surroundings. But she never forgot why she was there.

Anterra excelled at her history and other classroom learning. But it was in the battle arena that she found her calling. She was agile and quick. She was also fearless. That made her a formidable opponent to both male and female elves. The females learned to fight in case of large scale assault where they may be needed on the battlefield. When it became time to choose, or have chosen, one's function or position within the community, the elves then went off to a more specialized training, apprenticeship, guidance, and the like.

Anterra thrived. She also began to grow tall and strong. She got to be as tall as the boys in her classes, where they were considerable years her senior. She was looked upon with favor and respect by all. Very few knew her history, but everyone could see the fire of determination and passion flash in her eyes.

Grai-El watched Anterra exceed her expectations and surpass the majority of her school mates in both academic and combat skills. Arrangements were made for her to complete her classes. She was now able to spend all her time bettering her combat skills. She was quite adept with the wooden sword, continued to improve her swordsmanship, and was now becoming accomplished with the bow and arrow.

She recently received her bow and arrows with the rest of her peers during the ceremony that marked passage from childhood to young adulthood. Daily practice was now part of the everyday regimen. She was excited to learn a new skill.

It did not go without notice that Anterra was quickly becoming the one to beat in sparring matches and archery practice. She was able to fend off two and three opponents at once with her sword, always fighting intelligently. She could hit a target squarely with her arrow, both stationary and in motion. She was humble in her accomplishments and the other elves felt at ease coming to her for advice. They asked about her footwork and her ability to stay cool in a conflict. They asked her many questions, most the young elf could not answer because she was merely acting upon her intuition when she fought. It was if the whole world slowed down a little. She was able to see her opponent's next move before he or she even thought of it. But she showed them anyway, her peers. She wanted them all to become their best. Her competition was one from within.

Grai-El would have Anterra to her cottage on the forest floor from time to time. There, they walked  the forest and spoke of esoteric ideas and tangible matters. Her depth of empathy was astonishing. Although the elder was eager to accelerate her teachings, she remained pragmatic, knowing that slow progress and the natural unfolding of elf wisdom was more important to Anterra's development than haste could afford.

She was becoming the youngling that Shalheira, the tribe's wise elf maid, had envisioned during one of her full moon trances many sun cycles earlier. Not long after, the discovery of a small survivor among the remains of a viciously murdered family.

Anterra was barely a moppet when they found her. She was in shock but, other than that, unharmed. Grai-El was called to attend her with tinctures and herbs. She wouldn't speak, would not make eye contact with her nor anyone else. Several days in, the healer noticed the young elf swaying in rhythm to the song of the forest. She noticed her observant eye when it came to spotting the creatures of the wood. And she saw how the animals had no fear of her whatsoever, in fact, came right to her as if to greet her. And she greeted them.

Storm rolling in

Roll of thunder
Flash of light
Piercing through
The black of night
Setting branch
in dancing motion
Calling forth the
Angry ocean
Mermaids dive
And fairies light
To keep from harm
This harmful night

A TIRADE ABOUT MY CHILDHOOD - 20 Haikubes words pulled and used!

cover - melodic - around - wicked - charm - she - stick - dynamic - limbs - stay -
grace - livid - desperate - balance - curvy - boy - ground - return - trouble - mouthful

Desperate for acceptance, and perhaps attention
I was livid with the boys, resentful of the girls
Always out of balance, always out of time
I hit the ground running, limbs flying and flailing
Crashing through at Red Rover, competitive and fierce
I never wanted to stay, never wanted to return
Why would I want to return to this wicked place
My heart, though entirely broken, still held to grace
He never considered, she never considered that
Beneath this cover of flesh, whatever you may see
There is a vicious wit that would cut you in half
Should I choose that as your fate
Or a dynamic force that would weave notes of beauty
So melodic it would make you weep
If you'd have let me stick around, you may have seen
Past the troubled and frightened child to understand

It was never thought of back when I was a child
Now there are national campaigns to stop bullying
And laws against parents who beat their children
But back then, I was just biding time until I gave up
And I decided to end it all, one way or the other
That's the inexplicable charm of growing up
You either give up, give in or go crazy
You can't just think it, you have to muster up a mouthful
And either cause trouble by exposing the lies
Or by charming the snakes or by letting it slide

Ode to Jean-Pierre

My precious little boy
I love you to the moon and back
I love to stroke your golden hair
And kiss and cuddle you


And I don't mind when you
Get the fire in your eyes
And set your claws and
Bare your teeth
Dig into my flesh

And I don't mind when you
Wake me up in the
Middle of the night
Because you just
Want to talk to me

Dixit Card #3 - Poppies

                                                         

A lush field of bright red poppies, and in the midst of it all a little clearing. In the middle of that clearing, a white flower.

The poppies stayed away from the white flower from the moment it began to emerge from the bud. It was different and new and unlike them. They moved away from it, giving it wide berth. They mustn't get too close.

'What's wrong with it?' Whispers in the surrounding crowd. "Stay away from it!" They fearfully shout.

One day, MEN came to the meadow with machines. They all wore matching hats. Except one of them. His hat was different. He walked carefully through the meadow, taking care not to disturb the poppies.

When he came upon the white flower, his eyes grew large. "Oh, now here's something you don't see every day!" He took out his camera and captured many images of the white flower. He made notes on an official looking form.

After that, the MEN and their machines went away. Signs went up around the meadow. The poppies didn't know this but that white flower, one of a very rare strain of poppy, saved all of them from death and destruction.

Anterra - A poem...perhaps a ballad or lilting song accompanied by lute or dulcimer

Where she walks she leaves a trail of light
So others may see and find their way
Bare flesh glistening with spider silk
She weaves her path through night and day

Her gown, diaphanous and glittering
Sweeps clean her footsteps behind her
Modest in her beauty and her grace
She sings a song of larkspur and fern

She glances toward the dappled sun
That darts and dwells between the leaves
The burnished highlights from her hair
Gold and amber through heavy air it weaves

A legion of wild things follow close and near
Innately knowing that she will keep them from harm
She coos and speaks their languages softly
The creatures are beguiled by her sensual charm

She genuflects by water, clean and swift
Offering libation to both wolf and fawn
They linger in a glade puddled with sunlight
She sings along with the wildwood song

She moves like her steadfast steed
Sure footed and nimble across the forest floor
Needing naught but what she can forage
Leaving what she can for others who explore

Only when unavoidable or set on her edge
Will she somberly don her battle tunic and vest
Her skills quite keen, her vision clear
She'd not cross swords nor draw arrow unless

No other alternative can be conceived or wrought
Or in some quandary she found herself
She drew her gleaming blade, her bow and arrow
And all beheld Anterra, the warrior-maiden Elf

CHALLENGE - Magic & Fairy Tale Dice - 1st roll

Sword, poison, bow & arrow, explosion, prison, ring, troll, broomstick, invisibility cape

*These are the words that were the first roll of the Magic & Fairy Tale dice. Use what you can, embellish, leave things out. Whatever.

If you can imagine someone else, you can leave yourself behind.

I can't sleep

and if I can't sleep I can't dream
And if I can't dream I can't live
I've got too many monsters left to forgive
______________________________________

Each time I close my eyes I enter another place
It's sometimes day and sometimes dark
I am myself only I am different and unfamiliar
I can scarcely make myself out of the crowd

    A splendid hall, a sumptuous feast
    A revelry for the slaying of the dangerous beast
    A God save the king, a dancing girl
    Who makes us all forget our violent world

Rabble in the pubs, rabble in the streets
With my silver tight against my chest
Rushing from town to town as if my life depended on it
Perhaps it does, perhaps it does

Singing for my supper, running through the rain
Keeping my secrets tight against my chest
I have no idea where tomorrow will take me
I just don't care, I just don't care
  
    A splendid hall, a sumptuous feast
    A revelry for the slaying of the dangerous beast
    A God save the king, a dancing girl
    Who makes us all forget our violent world

Try as I might, I feel I cannot escape
With all my belongings strapped to my back
I dart from darkened corner to the next
I keep on moving, I keep on moving

I hear the dogs, I hear the men
They are tight on my tail, just behind me
I am lucky to escape this time again
I pray my thanks, I pray my thanks

    A splendid hall, a sumptuous feast
    A revelry for the slaying of the dangerous beast
    A God save the king, a dancing girl
    Who makes us all forget our violent world

She feels the lightning strike

trunk - whispers - body - ravenous - heart - shape - touches - realize - salty


Her ravenous ways devour every moment of your existence
She touches her body and whispers your name
She feels the love like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Her shining face is something to behold, you realize
Her chiseled body, the torso of some Greek heroine
She feels your eyes like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Her desperate ways beg for your passion and charm
Your silence deafens her alone in the room
She feels the pain like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Her salty tears wash away any leftover trace of you
There is a heart-shaped hole that shoots straight through her
She feels her freedom like fire
Fire from a lightning strike