CM Simpson: Writer & Gamer

When he stepped away from it, the creature remained still. For a heartbeat, Larias thought he had failed, but then the beast moved, uncoiling so that it could stretch before turning its head so that it could observe both the god and the elf to whom he spoke. The elf’s face paled and she gently eased the tension in her bow. Still clutching it and arrow in one hand, she reached out with her other hand and leant against the nearest tree. “You are a god,” she admitted, “but what brings you here?” “I have to go,” Larias said, ignoring her question. “I will speak to your gods and ask if you can be made a guardian to the garden I must create so this creature can feed.” The creature turned its head toward him and flicked a tubular tongue across his face. It would drink nectar from the throats of flowers he had yet to design. The arrow-headed serpent coiled about his arm hissed, reminding him he had created two beasts that day, but all the woman did was nod. With his chariot now fl

His mother would have disapproved, Larias knew, but the elf was beautiful and brave, not to mention a servant of the elven gods. He took the chariot from inside his tunic and dropped it at her feet. She did not stoop to retrieve it, but waited while he snapped his fingers and mouthed the word that would return the chariot to its usual size. She took a step back as it grew. When the change was complete, and she could see that it would not change again, she regarded Larias across its back. He was surprised to see scorn in her eyes. “I asked you to prove to me that you are a god,” she snapped, “not that you are a talented magician with an aptitude for making spectacular toys.” “At least you admit that it is spectacular,” Larias replied. Stepping to the front of the chariot, he laid his hands on either side of the 'face' forming a proud prow for the vehicle’s serpentine body. The markings carved and moulded along the vehicle’s sides depicted the many-legged form of some

I was reading over a post from a game friend on FB. She was waking as I was getting ready to go to sleep. She was wondering what the day would bring while I was wondering if my soon-to-be-two-year-old would actually let me get some sleep. She made me think about all the hours I spend at the computer, and reminded me of a post another game-friend had put up the day before. That post was one of those clichéd attempts at a joke. It warned of the ‘worst FaceBook virus yet’. Apparently this one was the ASTC (A*s-Stuck-to-Chair) virus, where victims are so absorbed in their FB activities that their children starve, their house grows untidy and falls apart with neglect, and their pets become dangerously obese from never being walked. You know the sort of post I mean. Anyway, it got me thinking about all the time I spend in front of a computer screen, whether it’s playing games, writing, or reading what others have written, and I wondered how many good things there were in a day that

“Name yourself, human, and state your business in the Lianreida.” Larias smiled and took two steps towards her. He was so swift and light the leaves beneath his boots did not have time to crumble. The woman reacted as he expected—she loosed the arrow. He stopped within arm’s reach of her, his smile growing wider as the arrow struck him in the chest and exploded in a myriad of splinter-sharp shards. As she drew a third arrow from her quiver and nocked it, he spoke. “My name is Larias, son of Kanort. I am the god of problem-solving and invention.” As if to prove his point, he held out his arm revealing the serpent now coiled along its length. He was glad he had thought to shield it from the second missile’s remains. With its bronze-colored hide and the silver arrowhead marking the center of its skull, it had become something beautiful. The woman recoiled, regarding him warily. “You don’t look like a god.” “And you are no more human than those at Saran’s Watch.” She conc