icewinds: (confused)
2011-12-25 02:16 am

(no subject)

This is new.

Where am I?
icewinds: (Default)
2010-07-13 09:30 am

(no subject)


I write like
Kurt Vonnegut

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!


icewinds: (Default)
2008-02-16 02:45 am

(no subject)

Water's easy in the past-land,
where the ice banked high and snowswept
where the ice shone blue like water,
polished hard by blowing snow.

Fire was hard, but if we had it
Water came from every iceshard,
trickled in the heated igloo,
sculpting to a frozen flow.

Food came harder, when the dogs strained
travelling from trap to sealhole,
looking for the hidden places
hoping meat would linger there.

Food for dogs, or no more travel,
Food for men, or no more hunters,
Food for women, or no family,
Lastly came the food for children,

(And the old were food for bear.)
icewinds: (Danseen)
2008-02-16 12:10 am

ooc seperate post

Bear Zen and the art of movable type in mind. It's cool.
icewinds: (Default)
2008-02-15 10:51 pm

OOC

I switched it to generic and didn't remember - anyway, address is updated now.
icewinds: (Default)
2006-04-28 03:30 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

Pack Leader
You scored 55 pack mentality, 84 body strength, and 80 mental strength!
You'd make an excellent wolf. You would be able to control the pack in an effective way while being able to bring down prey easily. Your headstrength will also make you an effective alpha wolf. This is my first test, so it would be nice if I could get some feedback, so please rate my test! Thanx!




My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:


free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 27% on pack mentality

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 70% on body strength

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 58% on mental strength
Link: The Would You Make a Good Wolf? Test written by SeireiHoukou on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
icewinds: (Default)
2005-09-21 11:04 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

This question seems popular amongst the other journal keepers - I cannot see that it would do harm to ask...

Please leave a one-word comment that you think best describes me.

It can only be one word. No more.

Then copy & paste this in your journal so that I may leave a word about you.
icewinds: (Default)
2005-09-21 10:05 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

Katana
Your personality is best represented by the
traditional Japanese Katana. You are brave
beyond words and rarely (if ever) act for your
own personal gain. Your honor is very
important to you, and you strive to better
yourself and help others. You try not to let
emotions get in the way of making a sound
decision, and are usually quite successful.


What sort of Weapon best Represents your Personality? (anime pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla

An interesting weapon, but I doubt if it would turn a bear - or some of the other creatures that I have met in my travels.
icewinds: (Default)
2004-01-14 12:41 am

What Did I Do?!

Perhaps it is the purifications that I have been subjected to, or the prayer-fast. I cannot stop myself from looking at the box that holds the Talisman. When I turn to the Journal that is supposed to reveal my hidden secrets, lessening the chance that I will burn ... it is almost as though I could feel the casket that holds it looking at me.

It cannot be the power of the amulet itself. The box is warded to prevent the magic leaching through, insulated ... or is, it perhaps, that the box is open..? I touch it to test, and it is open now.

The stone seems to gather light to it - or is it amber? It is warm to my touch. I cannot judge by the weight; the setting has bulk. Lifting it reveals the scroll beneath...

I need to cast something - but that invocation is to be said in due time, and so I reach to the prayer-fire and whisper,

Rain, mist, sleet and snow,
guide my feet where they must go,
wind, rain, storm and sea,
bring the ones I seek near me...

Then I turned back to the Journal, bending wearily to my task of remembering.

My childhood, Chapter four,

I know now that it was a bad year, in a cruel decade. A bitter winter had been followed by a harsh spring, and snow lay fathoms deep in the untravelled areas.

Worse, the running sickness had infected some of the wild beasts. True wolves - the softer and near-mindless creatures - had been killed in neighbouring towns. The sick ones were said to be walking up to fires, and intruding into the territories of man, as though they knew their bite and blood was death, and they feared and felt nothing.

(They call it wild-life rabies, now, but it was death by any name.)

The grass-eaters could catch the sickness, too. It caused a change in the reindeers' bleats that we were taught to know. The clan kept all the children close in those days, even me - at least to a point - but I had no close kin, and my care was nobody's chosen task.

There were far worse things than true wolves in the wilds around the town ...


It was as I remembered the year of the running sickness that I sensed ... something ... near me. The Talisman spilled from the tilting box as I stood, and I caught it, almost unaware.

There was neither scent nor sound, at first. I had remembered as vividly as I could, as I had been instructed - so at first I thought that my own mind had tricked me, making every shadow a sick and drooling bear.

Then, unmistakably, a frozen branch snapped under the weight of a foot! I whirled, snarling involuntarily...
icewinds: (Default)
2004-01-12 01:14 am

and still I wait

I can see the box out of the corner of my eye. It is insulated, padded as though the glowing brown stone should be kept warm. I am told that this seals in the power.

I slide two fingers to the lid, open it and look at the - topaz, is it? Amber? The chain looks like silver - surely it cannot be? Pewter or white gold, perhaps.

Suddenly I have the urge to face my fear! To loop the chain around my neck, pick up the scroll and ... This time I close the box on temptation. This time...

I turn away and go on with the account.

How many of my own secrets will I have time to find?

My childhood; chapter 3.

I suppose that all children look at the world in which they were born as though nothing could ever change. I remember when my own world changed beyond salvation or recovery – the day the truth-singer came.

These creatures have a hundred names – and some translate into curses. I suppose that many of those involved react as I once did – as though the truth-caller had caused the world to be cruel. Now I am older – and although I have little learning there are those who have tried to school me in the ways of wisdom.

The seeds of doom were in us, deep within – and they were sprouting when the singer came. Our Leader was old, long deprived of his life-mate and dulled to his duties, going wearily through the motions of the days. Those who trained the young were lax.

Hindsight shows almost all - and we trusted too much in our distance from the human towns, and from the travelled trails. (At least, so I was told, later, when I still had the starving need to understand. As an infant I questioned the bored impatience of the Teacher no more than I questioned why water lays flat, or why the winds blow. So it was – so it must always have been.)

But I was very young, and if I tell what happened as I saw it, any reader may be as bewildered as I was myself – but it is no easier to tell it as I see it now, older and trained to accept my fate.

The story that we tell now is that the Singer came to wake the Leader to his duties to the Clan. That the Leader should then have led with re-awakened strength and skill or stood aside to let another lead – or perished in the testing.

Then, though, I was so young that I hardly knew that spring follows winter, or that the Festival of Change comes yearly. So when I woke to a day when a most dour neighbour sang of his pride in his new sleigh in the open street, (in a voice with more charm than I thought was in him,) I only thought it interesting.

Even when his new wife sang in harmony to tell him he cared more for his machines than for her I was more surprised by her honesty than by her song (She was one who had never warded her expression in front of a child. So I had known her thoughts, but believed that she would never speak them.)

The greatest mystery was why she had married him at all, but then I was far too young even to hazard a guess – or to understand the guesses made by neighbours.
icewinds: (icefoxy)
2004-01-11 09:48 pm

(no subject)

And so I continue my account, while I wait for a summons from the Shaman.

My Childhood, Chapter Two,

As I recall it, when the Hunters Moon was down we lived much as our neighbours must have done. I remember the sleds and the sleighs, reindeer and even the occasional dogs and horses.

Our houses were wooden but there was the rare motorised vehicle, even then – and how those motors stank! Then as now, moose sometimes walked the roads as though they owned them, Bears were worse – and that I shall never forget.

I remember bearded men, and women dressed in so many layers of clothing that they showed little shape. I remember faces chapped red with cold, but often lined with laughter, and hands as hard as bone from unrelenting work.

Usually, I heard the laughter as I watched the playing children, as though I were the audience to a show in which I had no part. With no mother and no siblings I might have been apart even had I not been already marked. As it was, I was almost shunned.
icewinds: (trapped)
2004-01-09 04:10 am

Danseen's Song 1

Danseen’s Song.

It seems the time has come to tell my history, insofar as I know it. I am one ill-omened from my birth, carrying the mark of the wolf from my earliest days – though whether my mother changed as she carried me or the magics to produce a human child failed, none can tell. Certainly my mother cannot, for she died as I first saw the light of day. (Marking me twice accursed in many beliefs.)

The second curse is more obvious – I come of the Clan of Icewind. We once held the starkest territory of the far north, running where the bitter cold threatened even the huge and shaggy bears. Our pride was our strength and our strength was our pride, and both were as encompassing as the mountains.

Since I was marked lycanthrope from birth I changed – one could say, from a cub - whenever the moon called me. My blood and other fluids would have carried this mixed-gift to others, too.

Rather than risk the unwanted attention that this could bring I was kept and schooled apart, separate both from the human children of the town and from the more fortunate children of the Clan. For those for whom the magic had worked, keeping them human from the womb until the time came to make their choice, to be human or lycanthrope of the Clan, could be deprived of their choices by one such as I.

Children are rarely kind, and I learned that I am contamination so young that I cannot remember when or how I was first brought to know.
icewinds: (Default)
2004-01-09 02:19 am

Sacrifice?

The Council of Shamans say that once, beyond the memory of any who now walk, spells against the Lamia were known. They seemed to think that might give us a weapon.

(When I was first told this on being brought before them I saw no sense in it. If we had once flown, would that give me wings?)

They had therefore determined that they might need to call a Truth-singer. They were not clear to me about their reasons. (I speculate that they may hope to revive hidden memories of their own – who has a better chance of knowing esoteric spells than a Shaman, from a line of Shaman?

It is also possible that they mean to stand their own test of fitness to lead - and perhaps secure a better succession. That has been done in the past – indeed, it was this custom that brought about my own involvement.

One Shaman family has called a Truth-singer several times more than once. It is their knowledge of what is necessary to make the summons without penalty that had held their high place.

They have the secret of how to refresh the magic in the amulet that binds the singer - and for the rest, they had believed that avoiding the price was simple.

Magic always has a price. The price for this summoning is that she who says the invocation while wearing the amulet will be taken by he who she summoned – some stories say as a bride, some give far darker purposes.

Worse, in some tales the price is the firstborn, or the next-born child of she who summoned. Many of those go on to say that the demon was outwitted and the bargain voided - those stories that do not are rarely pleasant reading.)

The Shaman family had kept their secret until the last summoning. However, from what the Clan saw then, they had simply learned that if a male made the summons, he who called the demon would not be taken (and, it seemed, no claim would be made on his descendants.

Later, I read of a tribe of Wicca humans, in the Russian Georgia. They had found that if a woman so old that her daughters were also beyond childbearing invoked the demon, that ended the matter.

I could not find any account of a penalty levied against the Wiccans, but the superstitious of Icewind blamed the harm that came to our Clan on the Shamans calling the demon but avoiding the payment.

I remember the horror of that time, but I was an unguarded infant. Then, I thought the ugly stranger responsible for, not only the fruits of his magic, but the bloody leadership battle that took place while a body burned.

The demon watched too closely to notice me, a part-grown cub beneath the Hunters Moon. I had crept close, and when he moved I bit!

So I marked a stranger who could not be taught the way of the wolf. My lack of control may have marred a life – but the creature neither kicked nor stamped, (I was quite a small cub.) He consigned us to the depths of perdition, turned to coloured dust and light and … went.

The superstitious blamed the chaos that followed on all this, but I have studied what happened next in my adult years.

It is my belief that many of the Clan perished because we were leaderless when the humans from town turned on the lycanthropes. We responded as a mob of individuals, not as a pack. However, dark fate worked against us too.

I am too low a status for my beliefs to matter. The Council of Shamans did not call me to consult me.

I marked a Truth-singer. We owe a dept and, if we call a Truthsinger this time, she who reads the summons will be female.

I have been given a Talisman that I must wear, when the order comes. It gleams revitalised and brimming with power.

Perhaps to avoid naming me as a sacrifice too openly, the Shamans have advised me to write an account of my history, claiming that it will put me at less risk of death if I have no hidden secrets, even from myself.

I will do so, if time permits. Perhaps it will be shared with friends, one day, if I survive. (So far I have only a scrap.)

I think that I may be sacrificed faced with my fate before I write enough to explain.
icewinds: (Default)
2004-01-03 10:42 pm

The Successful Plea

I fasted and made the prayer-fires in the ways that must have been old when the order of Shamans was young. When hunger nibbled my wits I made a plea that was simple enough for a child.

Rain, mist, sleet and snow,

guide my feet where they must go,

 wind, rain, storm and sea,

bring the ones I seek near me...

 

I thought that, if the spell worked, those who had the answers to our questions might come walking to me under the pines, or might even stop to offer me a lift upon the road. When I returned to the Seer and was told that the fabric of space and time been broken to admit those who would be a force against the Lamia - I disbelieved her.

I was told later that many became aware of the risen evil, and prayed or cast spells to find the answers to it. It is easier to believe that my voice was one breath in a chorus that was heard.

Nevertheless, I was taken by the Order of Shamans and taught again, though I am full adult and more.

Perhaps this has changed me - or perhaps it has revived the belief that their is a place for me that I have a destiny - but teaching and training must settle and steep, before any know what has been brewed.

icewinds: (Default)
2004-01-03 10:38 pm

It Proceeds

Many moons have passed since the local Seer gave warning that the Mother of Evil had been loosed upon the world again.

(That title has always puzzled me, since I was taught that she is the ancestor of Lycanthropes, and can influence those that carry her blood - but my teacher disliked that kind of question.)

It was prophesied of old that those born marked by the wolf would be enlisted in the battle if she broke free. There have never been many (and the world should be thankful for that,) and it seemed to me that we might be the most vulnerable to evil's thrall.

However, I had never thought the time of her freedom would come in my lifetime. I had made no special study of the Lamia, (and, if truth be told, I thought the prophecies as likely to be a campfire story given credence by the centuries. Even the language that the tales were once told in is studied, rather than spoken.)

Well, the local Seer gave warning the the Lamia had risen. When she repeated it and grew distressed there was talk of calling a Healer, but I was sent out on a quest to learn more. The old Seer had been good to me when few would give me room in their house, rather than in their barn. When she made requests of me privately I did as she asked.
icewinds: (Default)
2003-07-14 06:01 am

spell

There has been so little success in finding those whom I should contact that I wonder if they are still in, or of, this world at all.

I know that the quest is all but impossible. The clan owes I owe a dept that it may never be possible to pay, and now that a force of Hell is loosed upon the world our runes linked these facts and I was sent out - and now, after weeks of search, I still know nothing.

But I have been a failure since my ill-omened birth, what else can be expected of one marked from childhood. But I must do what I can - whatever I can.

*(For the seventh time in the prayer-fast, kindles small fire beneath the pines) Crouches with arm across knees, then puts forehead on arm.*

Rain, mist, sleet and snow,
guide my feet where they must go,
wind, rain, storm and sea,
bring the ones I seek near me...
icewinds: (Default)
2003-07-04 10:54 pm

(no subject)

I am still seeking those whom I must find. A year ago I should have said that the meme sets my death too closely in my future. Now, though, it would be reassuring to believe it.

Happy Deathday!
Your name:Danseen
You will die on:Wednesday, November 14, 2029
You will die of:Heart Disease (High Blood Pressure)
Username:
Created by Quill
icewinds: (Default)
2003-06-28 03:32 am

odd Meme

Parts of this were interesting.............


icewinds
Magic Number17
JobDespot
PersonalityMultiple
TemperamentAngry - At Everything
Sexualstraight
Likely To WinA Duel With Pistols
Me - In A WordDivine
Colour
Brought to you by MemeJack

icewinds: (Default)
2003-06-28 03:12 am

start

I started this journal on 28th June 2003 and should contact the others as quickly as possible.