“But why not master the bow, or even seek out the arcane?”
“You always return hurt, sometimes gravely. The distance offered would at least
mitigate that, would it not?”
“You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
“No, I am. Your concerns are appreciated, and you do raise some good points. But
while the bows and magics of the world offer degrees of safety they lack that vital
feeling of catharsis. When a cataclysmic encounter nears its end, and the axe
blade splinters a beasts arm into a mess of crimson and bone. When that
beast cries out and the final arc smashes into its side, rending flesh in twain.
That is catharsis. And without that, I can’t do this. Distance cannot give that
feeling. I hope you understand this, why I shall carry this axe forever more.”


More Salt and Sanctuary and Bloodborne inspired writing.

Music I listened to as I wrote this:

Good stuff.



Brilliant and pure, a ribbon of light floating in the darkness.

I cannot recall the exact time when I first saw it. I only know sleep eluded me
during that time, and the light seemed to be a hallucination.

But night after night the light returned until I could deny its existence no longer.
So I accepted it, and the light led me through the darkness. And the things it
revealed to me. So many secrets and places beyond human space.

Soon the night was welcomed. For with it came the light and it always pleased me so.

Friends and family fell away. I only needed the light.

Everyone stopped talking to me. They would always disappear after trying to speak
to me. The village gradually slipped into abandonment. Only me and the light remained.

Everywhere is caked in filth, and other things. I feel different but I cannot say how.
No mirrors remain to reflect my visage, and no one remains to speak to me, leaving me
alone to assess my person, and I’m too far gone for that. Much of my life before the
light visited is merely a phantom. But, that’s fine. For each time the night comes,
the light shows me so many beautiful things.


More Bloodborne inspired writing.

What I listened to as I wrote this:

If I’m being honest, a lot (if not all) of my motivation for learning Japanese has gone. But I still listen to these, out of habit if nothing else.


Around midday. That’s when it started.

With a great flash the sky opened up and from the rift massive tentacles slithered
forth, translucent streams that wrapped around everything.

And amidst the showers of glass and concrete, something about the whole thing feels
strangely comforting, as if this was the inevitable ending.

The last of the world comes a part now all of it just tumbling down, tumbling down.


Random thing. Also I should watch Evangelion again.

What I listened to as I wrote this:

I’ll figure it out.


It has been some time since the last big feed. His constant reminders make me
aware of that.

I reassure him that it will not be long. That he must practice patience. When the
moon rises, then it will be time. I think he listens.

Something stirs in the streets. Lamentations, and netherworld growls. And there,
high in the night, a pale blood moon.

The night will be long, and beasts are plentiful. We can take our time here. We can
make it last.

So here we are, trudging home, the morning light glistening on the mess of blood and
sinew. The great sword has fed, and heartily so.


All Bloodborne. All the time.

What I listened to as I wrote this:

More Japanese podcasts.


And from the ocean they shamble forth, salt crusted hulks of sinew and spines
carrying great axes of leviathan bone and hammers of deep ocean rock. Having
advanced upon the many castles of the kingdom they rend them asunder, the dust
scattering in the wind. And with their violence and fury not sated, they move
further inland.

Then the rain dripped through the roof, rousing me from sleep. And so I move to
a dry corner and seek sleep once more so they may finish their work and the
kingdom can be rebuilt a new.

In dream of course. For everything is in dream.


What I listened to as I wrote this:

Trying to make engaging with the Japanese language consistent. That should help.


I had to go back out there. I couldn’t leave that thing out there. A moment to
regain my composure. Another to put locate my helmet. Catching sight of myself on
my blood marked sword, there’s a mix of anxiety, fear and yet, something below all
that, simmers with hope, and brightness. I’d need that, before stepping out into the

I stumbled out of the castle, practically broken, clutching my side. Groups had
gathered with swords drawn, eyes filled with rage. They closed in, but they didn’t
matter. I held the bloody cape aloft. All of them knew of its significance, my
achievement. Falling to their knees, swords hit the ground. I made my way through
the throng, and then out of here.


A result of playing Salt and Sanctuary.

What I listened to as I wrote this:

Maybe I’ll keep learning Japanese. It would be nice to know.


There’s lot’s to ruminate on.

When the thing broke my leg. When it snapped my arm in half. The many wounds
and scars it has inflicted. When it sent me flying from the bridge, leaving both
body and soul crippled. And the indignity of being carried to safety, robbed of my
own power. That burned for the longest.

All of these moments suddenly come together in a thick haze, halting me for a
moment. The beast lay there, howling, cradling the blood splattered fracture
that once passed for a rib cage. Brushing the memories aside, I raise the axe
on high, and finish the arc deep in its skull, sending blood everywhere.

And there I stand, plastered in crimson, filled with the joy catharsis brings.
But it won’t last for long. There’s always more beasts to slaughter.


I’ve been playing Bloodborne. Lot’s of Bloodborne. Unhealthy amounts even. But it’s so good, so very, very, very good.

What I listened to as I wrote this:

I keep trying to learn Japanese. I try to listen something everyday, just to keep the language in my mind. I do struggle with motivation right now.


The world is big, and I am small. Yet, to the west there are dragons with
diamond hard claws that break mountains asunder and even they are small. To
the east krakens splinter ships across the vast oceans, and even they are small.
Down in the southern regions a great turtle carries many forests on its back and
even that is small. And up in the northern distance massive shambling hulks break
apart castles with ease. And even they are small. For this is a big world, and we
are so very small.


Random thing is random. Well, partly inspired by Salt and Sanctuary, which I’ve been playing the ever loving crap out of.

Music listened to as I wrote this:

Yay for Kantai.


The spirit isn’t willing, and the flesh would rather be elsewhere.

It has been difficult, the last few days. That dragon that insisted on following
me. A platoon of dead knights that simply wouldn’t take a sword through the gut as
a leave me alone gesture. And those eagles that honestly thought dive bombs and
ambushes were what my crumpled body needed.

The tower was clearly part of a castle at some point. But time and other elements
have worn the rest away. And at some point the tower will probably fall as well.
But for tonight it will make a decent abode. And inside will be safer than outside.

Door hinges that have long since abandoned any purpose in life. It simply tumbles to
the ground sending rats scurrying in every direction but door way bound. No quiet
entrance here.

A tight spiral of winding stairs, arcing ever upwards. I can see where the old
corridors would have split off in the old castle. Now, just splitting off into

Darkened corridor. So much so I pick up an old shield just to toss it into the
void. A giant man-trap spring shuts. One must be careful of such things.

Sword and shield drawn.

Sword and shield withdrawn. I can see a room at the end of the corridor. Not much
left for the sword and shield to do for now. Those goblins the last thing they’ll
get for a while. Hopefully. I’m tired.

Tipping open a time-worn door. All quiet here and gaps in the wall lets the starlight
flood on through. And there in the corner, piles of wood. That will do.

The warmth, the cackling of the wood. The little, beautiful glow that it gives off.
Just something wonderful about a bonfire. I’ll board the door at some point. But right
now, I’ll enjoy the fire for just a little while longer.


I want to play Dark Souls at one point. I’ve just got Salt and Sanctuary, and that’s fun.

What I listened to as I typed this up:

Podcasts are great. Even more so with Colt Cabana.


From the valley deep a colossus cries out
and the moon breaks into ten thousand pieces.

Talons vast dive through the clouds
and pluck the sun from the sky to take it into the nether.

The ocean is broken in two and the many
tentacles pluck the stars from the night black.

Not much to do now
just to watch the bonfire fade and fade.


My notepad filled up this week. So why not have one of the final bits be all apocalyptic and stuff.

Music listened to as I wrote this:

Seemed like a good fit.