Soulless

 With your kiss

On my skin

And our bridge up in flames

I see your face,

I fall in slow motion

With your eyes on the prize

I must reach but

My arms are lead

And my face is frozen

And numb, so numb.

With your grin

On your face

And our bridge up in flames

I see the floor,

And it doesn't hurt

With my blood on your hands

I must crawl but

My blood is gold

And my heart is frozen

And still, so still. 

With your kiss

On my skin

And our bridge up in flames

I don't feel you,

I reach out for your soul

With my hand in your chest

Kenser/Entae: Number Nine

Friendly as a cool breeze

That sings in the nighttime

As a flower patch grows

Under a rainbow's grasp

If you find my gold

Perhaps someday you could 

Hope to be as lucky as myself

And my followers can be;

Dice as quick as my hands

And cloves of magic as far as can be;

You who would question my odds:

You are who needs it the most.

My tongue sharp as my blade

With unwanted visitors

From beyond these Otherworlds,

And the realms beyond.

Do you believe
Or do you choose to flee

From the power within your

Soul, your loving heart?

My will is strong,

Stronger than most

And I challenge you

To this game called Life, once and for all.

The odds may not be in your favor,

As a human who walks among us;

Perhaps your can find the joy

You've been missing for so long

And thrive, my dear children,

Thrive further than I ever could

When I was a mere mage

Walking among the trees and the birds.

Euros/Eurea/Uros: Number Seven

Worldly balance is the key to greatness

For this earth you all live upon

And the best way to reach it:

To see, to hear, to feel

Recognize the magic all around you

And finally acknowledge,

The questions of the unknown

The veil will blind

All of you from

All of us, in debt to the Fates.

The fire and the water that 

Consumes us all in the end - 

Feel the rivers

Coursing through your veins

And wonder, was it

There this whole time?

And think of me,

My brother, Euphrates,

As you slowly delve into

The great Beyond this plane.

Gorgea: Number Five

A towering build of mud and stone

So still, so strong

Yet so stoically peaceful

Mountains and valleys he has born

Into the earth, its mantle

Wide open for the reaping

And the swamps, the grass

That cover the many lands 

Are his kin anew,

The rebirth coming soon

And him the first to call

The one they know as Life-Bringer.

The earth will quake under his

Titan-like weight

As the storms and the war help him

Sculpt the dirt into a new land,

On this earth that humans

Love to believe is our own.

Ziegwelder: Number One

Unbreakable, my shoulders carry on
And the battlefield plays out
Exactly as I'd hoped
Playing my strengths
Against your weaknesses

My sword always larger
And always swifter
Than the biggest blade of them all

I wonder if my liege, my sole friend
Carries on my wisdom still;
And when I've faded once and for all
Will I still be the strongest?

His gold still plays my fingertips
As our brotherhood lives on inside my head
But the purpose I long for eludes me;

Why am I still here?
I ask The Fates but they won't tell.
The amnesia made me wander for days,
And here I am now, before the lost others,
Wondering why we were born so soon?

Losing Grip

What do you want me to tell you?
That my arm shook as I kept myself
From grabbing and pulling all of you
Into my life?

That my skin could not bear life,
Without your electric touch again?
That the daemon who held my soul
Only amplified my want to hold your hand?

That I almost lost control of myself
From being in your magnetic presence;
Your lies and expressions telling
What I wanted to hear whispered within?

You read me like a book on a shelf
To you, the shiniest, newest, brightest novel
You'd ever seen before you.
But did you even hold the key to anything,

Or was it just to my most primal wants;
Imagining your hands up and down my waist,
My back, my hips, and your tongue
Telling me all I'd ever want to hear from you?

Are other people truly just a game,
A conquest, a vague interest to your shallow mind?
And once you had won me over,
Would you have set me on your shelf of lies?

Torn Away

"Never sacrifice or compromise yourself
For someone else's happiness."
He said upon his hoard made of
Sweets, skulls, and smoke.

And never have such words resonated
So deeply as to play with the strings
And shapes of my undead soul.
"You don't need him."

And just like that, the ties we had shared
Were torn to shreds before my third eye,
The pain stinging tightly in my chest
And my heart, and my mind.

Am I better off with you, my mentor,
My muse, my everything
Up to a few weeks ago?
Are you worth losing?

Suspicious lines run deep in my love,
But he saw before me the look
You have been influenced to give,
Or is it your own? I could never tell.

And never have such words resonated
So deeply as to play with the stars
And space of my scarred mind.
"All you need is yourself."

Dangerous Game II

Watch me gaze upon your
Tainted, viscous fluids
You had once called love,
Your blood black on my

Rose, cleanly carpet.
Watch it as it seeps
Into the fabric,
Leaving no stain.

And with your dying breaths,
Remember why you
Came here in the
First place, human.

Mister Non Committal,
Mister Minimum Effort,
Dirty as the makeup
Still staining your face.

Stealing hearts from
Married souls was quite
The fun, masturbatory
Act, wasn't it?

The thrill of the catch,
Taunting you into a
Stimulating, active,
Obsessive state.

And when the gods and
The spirits judge you
Dead, will you have ever
Truly loved another person?

Isaiah Solace

Your darkened gaze upon your enemies,
Your victims, your nemesis;
Eyes of night with olive flesh,
The craving hit me first-

Second, the whispering moon
Screaming at me to move;
To say anything to your
Strength, your speed, your heart,

Your determination;
So quick was your charm in third,
Ensnaring, wrapping me
In your dangerous smile-

Your gift unto no one else,
For myself alone to love,
To yearn, to question still,
If any of us was truly real?

Your succor, sweet kiss
'Neath the moonlight timed just right
For your soon departure
Left me without question.

Love and Cold Winds, Part 6.1 - A Fun Adventure

    They were not prepared. In the broad spectrum of knowledge and forethought the collective batch of brains and the stratagems that were created before the stairs leading to the next dungeon floor were eviscerated when they entered the maze.

    Every corner held some kind of trap, and that statement was often times literal. Monsters attacked in droves which led the scent of blood attracting the mid-boss (a minotaur, of course). This led to many spent arrows, sore vocal chords, a chunk of ether crystal spent, and quite a lot of cuts and scrapes and stab wounds with very little spoils of victory to show for it all.

    Before any could pull out their own return stone and drown their failure in cheap booze, a blissfully safe looking room opened before them with a chest sitting in the center. The entire party stared at it while stabbing it several times. When it didn't start screaming, Garn tossed the top of the chest open.

    "Well what do ya know." Lym said, pulling one of the four large bottles filled with a thick red liquid. "Health potions."

    "Decent grade?" Vort asked.

    "At a glance they look pretty high tier."

    With that dazzling review Garn scooped up a bottle, flicked the top off and slugged back a hearty mouthful. It tingled on its way down to his gullet before blooming into a full body warmth. the missing chunks of scale and slashes hewn themselves back into unmarred scales, and the ever present fatigue lessened its grip.

    The open potion was quickly passed around to the others as they silently agreed to set up camp in the relative safety of the room, sitting around a small cook fire bravely attempting to warm a murky stew in a dinged up pot.

    "So, what's the plan?" Garn finally broke the silence.

    "With the monster parts and these potions, we can get a decent amount of gold." Norra suggested, her eye twitching at the taste of the muddy soup.

    "Or, we could head to the boss to get some real treasure." the halfling bard said, trying to turn the taste of the soup into something truly edible and failing at every attempt.

    "Lets go deeper." Both Vort and Garn said in unison, the pair glancing each other.

    "We can handle this, we got ourselves a full party now!" the mage said cheerily.

    "Plus we have to pop Garn's cherry!" Lym butted in, getting one shocked look from the dragonborn. "You know, this is going to be your first floor boss kill."

    "Oh! Yes of course, I can't wait." Garn said with a weak smile, by now he was getting suspicious if the bard knew his feelings for Vort and was messing with him.

    Lym was of course absolutely fucking with him, and in part the hopeless romantic was hopelessly frustrated with how little romantic gestures the pair had performed. The most romantic thing happening to them was sitting next to each other. Norra was absolutely no help either, though hunter skills were top notch, her social skills were as abrasive as a river rock.

    The nosy Bard knew one thing though, they were both warriors. Warriors tempered and strengthened in different forges and of different schools of combat, and any bard can tell you warriors who flirt with death on the battlefield pull double duty flirting with each other in their own special way.

     And there would be plenty of flirting once the party pushed open the black iron gates that lay within the center of the maze.

Love and Cold Winds, Part 5: Sympathy for the Midboss

    There was nothing but a heap of discarded weaponry, cast aside armor, and magic items sucked dry to purpose their ether. And of course the vast array of smears across the floor and walls like a impressionistic painting were all that was left of this floor's monsters.
    "Well, this is equal parts impressive and morbid." Garn said after shifting though the remains of a smashed treasure chest.
    "Yeah, that's hard core Grinders for you." Vort said, scooping a few gold trinkets into a bag.
    During the silent trek though the maze-like hallways of the dungeon proper, passing mauled traps, cleared out treasure rooms, and the slowly dissolving remains of minor spawning pits, the party knew there had to have been a particular group of Grinders. These were adventurers who neurotically enter dungeons and ruthlessly clear them out, often times leaving to allow the dungeon to reset and re-spawn its denizens to do the aforementioned sweep all over again.
    Done to attain better loot, better experience, or hoard rare resources, those dubbed Grinders often left a trail of cast aside gear and trinkets as they collected new and better ones. Some believed they did this so the dungeon could remake what they left behind into something even better, others thought it was they didn't want to haul what they deemed junk around. 
    "Should we be concerned?" the dragonborn asked as the group as they headed for the stairs downward.
    "As long as we stay out of their way there wont be issues." Norra checked the stairs before allowing the others downward. "More than likely they'll clear the floors their level allows them and then leave."
    Garn nodded, lagging behind with the storm mage as the expert hunter and tracker made her way downward. The next few floors were more of the same, monster-less and loot-less with only the occasional straggler for Garn to bisect with his blade. The large rough stones that made up most of the dungeon soon changed into solid smooth dark marble that arched into wooden beam and arch accents with everything lit with large amber sconces.
    Another (less talkative) set of carved doors stood at the end of the hall, a group of people standing by it and bickering. The party quickly ducked behind the pillars, dragging the dragonborn with them, making space a bit difficult for everyone. Voices were certainly raised among the other group before a whoosh was heard. Peaking out, Vort quietly informed everyone their party mage had opened a Gate back to the outside, and they had made their way through.
    "Odd," Vort said once the party came out of its hiding place, "They usually take on this floor's boss."
    "Well, We can actually get loot then!" Lym said cheerily as he approached the door.
    The party gathered around the halfing and began to push, but they all found that the door usually meant to be easily swung open on its hinges to have a grand reveal, were completely locked. They continued to push, and then push even harder, eventually going into a full on assault to get the firmly locked doors to budge.
    "Go away!" A deep bellow from behind the other side of the door pushed the adventures away from it. " I will not suffer further humiliation form you all!"
    "What..." Lym said looking between the group, finding equally perplexed looks.
    "I think that's the boss." Vort said.
    "Can they just do that? Bar entry into their rooms?"
    "Yes I can! The Dungeon Master put me in charge of this floor so I can bar you horrible monsters from killing me over and over again!" The fearsome beast wailed, akin to a small child being bullied.
    "Wow." Norra said flatly.
    "Never thought I'd feel bad for a floor boss," Mumbled Lym.
    "Hey," Vort knocked on the door. " We aren't the other party, we can have some tea!"
    Garn blinked looking down at the little mage standing at the door, he wouldn't be surprised if the beast behind actually complied to the request. And almost exactly after he had this thought the door cracked open a peek.
    "What kind of tea?"
    In a short amount of time the party found themselves sitting in the center of a circular arena around a short table, a well maintained tea set placed before all parties. One cup was daintily being held by a marble gargoyle big enough to eat a plow horse in one go. They had all heard the tragically hilarious story of the Midboss' 5 weeks of solid pummeling from the Grinders before finally reaching a threshold in the rules of this strange place that allowed him to lock his doors and regain his composure.
    "That's terrible." Vort said after the gargoyle concluded his tale.
    "It is horrible, sometimes I didn't even have time to fix the traps and get my minions spawning." The beast took a sip from the tea cup carefully held in his claws. "So, this question may be redundant but what brings you down here?"
    "Oh we were planning to head through the dungeon as normal." Lym said, "Your typical affair."
    "Oh of course, its a shame I'm not up for the usual affair." The Gargoyle said, setting his cup down. "As a consolation I will allow you to pass through my gate to the next floor."
    "Wait, really?" Garn asked, "Just like that?"
    "I am absolutely not up for a fight I'm afraid." The Gargoyle stood up, moved to the other end of the cathedral arena and pushed open a well hidden door with a grand staircase leading downward.
    With very little fanfare, the tea and table were packed up and the group bid their goodbyes to the monster and made their way deeper.
    "Did you plan for any of that?" Garn finally asked Vort.
    "Nope! I had no clue any of this would happen." The mage cheerily stated, patting Garns arm.
    "I doubt the next boss will be as talkative." Norra said, "So let's prepare ourselves."
   

Body Snatcher

Ever lying
Under shadow
Watching myself
Playing, stringing

Lies and lies
Blanket tears,
Eyes and eyes
Dampen fears

Steeling spirits
Holding closer
Soaking inside
Pulling, thieving

Face to face
Scaring you,
Skin to skin
Stealing you

Ever crying
Under shadow
Watching myself
Morphing, sculpting

Lies and lies
Stealing souls
Eyes and eyes
Burning gold

Love and Cold Winds: Part Two

    Lym'rothlin Badgerheart (Also know as Lym to his friends and lovers) had heard and sung songs of heroes of happenstance using their wit or dumb luck to accomplish their goal. The handsome halfling had no idea he would ever find a living soul that would have both aspects wrapped in a uniquely eye-catching package such as Vort. 
    Norra was a hunter down to her core, born and raised in the dense Novera Forest. She knew how to track, hunt, and even cast a little magic to give her arrows and knives enough of an impact on monstrous beasts. Caution and distance had been her only companions 'till a boy with storm colored hair saved her from the club of a berserk minotaur, and so the wood elf swore a life debt to him.
    Their reasons aside, over the year of travelling and performing feats to gain a decent reputation, the three found themselves becoming fast friends. And while they decided things by diplomacy, Vort's cheerfully chaotic disposition often led them down very interesting roads. In this particular instance it had led them to the human settlement of Parnattha on the edge of Garr'thd's Swamp.
    Within this particular town was a Tavern (non) ironically called The Slippery Fish. Garn found himself sitting in a back booth with Vort and aforementioned company. His prospects of ale-powered flirting was dashed as he looked between the chipper bard and the ranger oozing stoicism out of her green cloak. Vort had sat himself right next to Garn while the height-apposed duo sat opposite of them. Lym had just finished regaling everyone within ear shot of the perilous tale of how the party got its name, The Happy Accidents.
    "Well...An excellent song." Garn finally said. The halfling stood on his seat and bowed, eliciting a smattering of applause from nearby patrons. To think this all stemmed from the harmless question of, "So, who are you?"
    "Anyway," Norra said, "Lets just cut to the chaise. We need a fourth member to get into the higher levels and you're the best option for miles."
    This was not the first time the dragonborn had heard this line. Once he left his little village and started making a splash in his newfound profession, a representative of the nearest local guild (The Hardy Serpent) came to fill him in on the way of the world while attempting to recruit him.
    In times long past past the five great heroes of old formed the first guilds to combat the evil sweeping across the land. The High Guilds are those guilds which follow the highest orders of the High King and the Collective Kingdoms. From each region they oversee the Lesser Guilds, those formed by seasoned adventures to tackle greater challenges and tasks with all the benefits involved. Further segmenting this are Parties, smaller bands of adventures who are either in a guild or trying to get into one. There are also Mercenaries, those who prefer the independence away from the political  and cutthroat practices guilds tend to accumulate in their ranks.
    Any adventurer also had a Level, which was a short hand for their experience and prowess, and depending on the guild the process of leveling up could have been stupidly easy or easily frustrating. Garn happily skipped all this nonsense and marked himself as 'Mercenary, not taking requests'.
    So, why would he even hear them out now? One could blame the small man with storm colored hair that bitch slapped him into a wall. He of course would not admit that to himself or anyone else.
    "I don't know, what's in it for me?" Garn finally said.
    "A chance to actually be challenged again." Vort spoke up, "Plus, the money isn't half bad!"
    Garn blinked and looked down at the smiling human. Given he was the one who bitch slapped him an hour ago this sentence out of context would have been condescending. However the sheer sincerity it was spoken with, combined with a very honest assessment, Garn had begun to feel ever so slightly bored with his lot in life. He had left his home village to experience the world, and only took the job to hone his sword skills and get some gold for himself.
    Given the mediocre challengers he was put up against, he was made into the child with the biggest stick in the age old game of 'don't hit me with that'. He was tempted to say no to them much like the other parties and guilds that had attempted to recruit him, but he was more tempted to say yes (definitely not from the silly flight of having a crush, how dare you imply that?).
    "Alright," he said finally after the correct amount of tension built. "I'm in."
    "Yes!" Vort shouted joyfully. "Drinks are on me!"
    The whole party cheered, and proceeded to partake in the age old adventuring bonding experience; Becoming amazingly drunk and rowdy for the rest of the night.

Shapeshifter -Part IV-

This woman I stole had been in impeccable physical health, but she had the anxiety of someone who had been through more than a few incidents in her life. I didn't have time to reflect on it as she sucked me into this deep conversation that I was letting her trap me into. I was a willing participant, strung up in her web of anecdotes. Her words always gave me both a flutter in my stomach and a tightness in my chest, like a titan squeezed around my lungs with an enormous grip. It was both familiar and incredible, though the squeezing was a bit harder than my liking in this body.

Not showing my unease, I hoped, I forced myself to breathe the best I could, and timed it with the ticking of my designer watch, at the same time demanding my eyes to stop looking anywhere but into hers.

"Do you understand what I mean?" she looked straight at me, a sincerely concerned look on her face. She's been talking this whole time and all I've been doing is breathing. God. Damn. It.

"Yeah. Thank you." I smiled, speaking slightly better than squeaking, this time.

"So what's bothering you? What's on your mind, hun? You look lost."

I looked down awkwardly, trying to use body language to my advantage. "I don't really want to talk about it, thanks though." Damn it, why did I do that? Looking around in a small panic I said, "Honestly I'd really just like to talk with you about other things, if that's okay."

"Oh? Well how would you like to hear about my most recent breakup?" She gave a smile that read about as innocent as a demon of depravity.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Shit. SHit. SHIt. SHIT. 

"Let me tell you something, this lady was incredible. She was beautiful, rich, good at making love, and cared about me. But you know how sometimes people can get a little too into you?"

I stared blankly and just barely nodded.

"She was possessive, you know? She said that she just couldn't bear to see me with anyone else, whether it be an acquaintance or a friend. Total bullshit, if you ask me. Happens all the time, though" she sighed. "Everyone else I know has issues with guys or ladies cheating on them, and I'm over here with the stalkers." she laughed. It sounded like the Christians' version of the Devil in my ears.

I believed that I was keeping my calm well, until I realized my eyes were spread wide in amazement. My mouth was definitely also agape. "I suppose I can imagine what you mean... After all, people need their space, right?"

I frantically searched my mind for hundreds of ways I could distract myself and have time for myself while dating her, and exactly zero of them were appealing to me. Reading? I've read every book I own plus I already read two books per day from the library. Painting? Boring. Music? Already d --

"Damn straight... What was your name again, sweetie?"

We exchanged names and numbers, and that was the moment I made it my mission to let her have time for herself at all costs, for the fifth time. The first time didn't count, since I didn't truly know her until it was too late. But this time, the sixth relationship, I am making my fifth attempt at this 'space' thing count.

That evening after I went home, all I could do was sit and breathe while my mind gradually churned slower from the excitement that afternoon. I sipped my finest whiskey with my back slouched into the new marshmallow couch I had delivered a few days prior. Even though the television was on, I didn't see it. I didn't even truly hear it. My eyes looked but the rest of me was seeing micro expressions, blinks, shimmering hair, all belonging to her. Why did I have to choose a body with such bad anxiety? I agonized over how the conversation went, over and over through my chaotic brain.

Though, after a while, it turned into my past faces, my new face, my plans, my life... And
like the waves of an ocean, my mind caressed the edges of the coast of where my wonder sat. Why am I the way I am? And if the Gods made humanity, then who made ME? I jumped out of my seat as I saw Vincent's face stare back at me from the lit screen. And now I'm hallucinating again. Great. My whiskey now covering the nearby rug, I wandered to bed and laid in the darkness, truly feeling how alone I was for the first time for as long as I could remember. Those questions lurked ever closer than before, creeping about the corners and niches of my mind while I tried to focus on anything, everything else. Each and every one haunted me into my sleep.

So you Wanna Leave a Cult?

    Well hello there! If you have picked up this pamphlet, opened the cover and started reading this then you are in fact, in a cult! It's alright though, these things happen to people with little self esteem and who are incredibly gullible to people who speak with a degree more authority than they are used to. If you feeling offended, then congratulations! You are on your way from leaving the happy little group of suckers that surround the ego maniacal criminal you call a cult leader!
    Follow along these 7 simple steps and you just might make it out into normal society!
    Step 1: Just.Leave.
    Now  I know what your thinking- "If I could just fucking leave, then I would!" and if that is your case, this is not the step for you. For those who just got their feet wet in strange rituals and sabbaths in a spooky warehouse, you can leave! Most cults starting out will always have one or two who drop the cause and return to normal life. They may attempt to reach out to you, so if you find them getting too frequent, best skip town for a while.
    Step 2: Remember that skipping town bit?
    If just now 'a cult' seems like a bad idea after the sacrificial bloodletting binding you all together, then its time to close your accounts, stuff all your clothes and money in a bag and drive. There are two optional places you can hide if your former cult buddies decide "one of the Chosen Children of Chargathum'dall" is too important for the Grand Plan: A massive city, or a small town. Both have their pros and cons of course. a city will offer the anonymity of millions of other people, though so do they if they come for you. In a small town, you are the newbie in a town where everyone knows everyone, and there is a high chance your new friendly (and nosy) neighbors will happily greet you, while simultaneously trying to pry everything about yourself out of you. The trick is to act the right amount of normal to keep the community placated, while being interesting enough to keep them from just dismissing you as "just another townie."
    The con of a small town is that everyone is just too damn friendly. Once your cult finds you via some dark magical means or the paper trail your incompetent ass left, being friendly to the locals will make it easier for them to spill your location to them. But, I hear small town cops are really bored and with something like this, you'll have their full attention.
    However, if you are too deeply entrenched in the eldritch rituals and ceremonies to actually just up and vanish, proceed to Step 3!
    Step 3: Fake your Death!
    Well this escalated quickly didn't it? Sadly, your inability to "just say no" when you performed that rite naked and skin-soaked in a mixture of goat and pigs blood, and your witness of something inhuman peering between the shadowy gaps of the trees scribbling furiously, means it's time to take hold of your gender specific genitalia and start being drastic! This step might be a tad hard to do as they watch over each other like a bunch of paranoid hawks but it is worth trying out at the very least! Due to some legal reasons this pamphlet cannot spell out how to do that, so if you're rather unimaginative and have no skills in grave robbing, proceed to the next step!
Step 4: Time to be a Mole!
    Like any decent cult, yours is bound to be doing something so shady even shadow things raise their shadowy eyebrows. It's time to put your natural ability of ass kissing to good use! Build up evidence against your Leader and the various members of your Cult, maybe set up a camera during the Ritual of Borsha'gthha so you have that rampant animal abuse on tape (best keep yourself out of the footage though). Collecting evidence might be hard if you have to live in a room with four other dudes while your Great Leader has a girl-filled mansion to himself. But hey, if you all have an hour of "private time" then be sure to stash them where no one would look. Finally, once you have enough footage, be sure your one of the few who go into the neighboring town to get supplies, ditch your fellow cult members and sing like a canary hopped up on crack.
    With any luck, your testimony and the various evidence will be enough to have police and SWAT kicking in plywood doors and dragging cultists out. Unless of course, the police are under the Cult's control... Which leads us to:
    Step 5: Time to Hire Investigators!
    Aaah, the bane of any cult: nosy people! Yes while it seems a little terrible dragging other people into your mess, remind yourself you saw your leader summon a black glowing ooze from a ritual circle and it turned Bob into a horrible bloated monstrosity that shambles around the estate, so you're really running out of options! A normal party of investigators come in groupings of 3 to 8, and have a wide variety of skills and knowledges that could be helpful in ending your cult...Or getting them brutally killed, at the least. Fret not, for there always seems to be a unlimited number of people willing to fill in the sudden vacancies!
    As for actually hiring them, its best to hire by proxy! Find a good friend, trusted loved one, or someone the cult has alienated, and promptly beg them for help. 9/10 Times they will happily shell out money or favors in order to bring the investigators into town. If your Cult leader starts to get antsy and look suspiciously at his herd then you know they are here!
    Step 6: Lay Low!
    Again, this may seem rather hard as the gaggle of semi-competent "heroes" you managed to hire happily plow though all the carefully laid plans your leader had laid in place with a frightening mix of pure luck and incredible bouts of violence toward the heart of the eldritch and sordid affairs you and your buddies have been up to. It is here you may start to notice bouts of madness begin overtaking various cult members, including your leader as the amount of black rituals with each gleeful ruination of one of those dastardly webs that were woven.
    Human sacrifice in order to summon up a big nasty thing from the realm of H. R. Giger's nightmares and spell slinging mad men are not far behind you and your choice of wearing your "brand me with dark maddening runes" robe today. Its best for you to stay as far under the radar as possible, and weave the illusion of actually participating. Make the movements but not say those hard to sound words, stay hunched in the back as your leader asks for "volunteers", and above all else- STAY. AWAY. FROM.THE. INVESTIGATORS.
    They are more likely to get you killed than any abomination of nature your Grand Leader pulls from parts unknown. You're still a "cultist" and in 99% of the time you run into them, you will get shot, stabbed, beaten, or hit with a spell. Find yourself in that happy medium and wait for:
    Step 7: Wait Until Everyone's Dead!
    Yup! The final step is to be the biggest coward in the bunch. For you see, in the end once you introduce investigators into the mix the  "Final Plan" will be pushed months or even years ahead of schedule as time becomes a precious commodity. As the party to end all parties gets started, the investigators come storming in, guns blazing and sealing spells at the ready.
    Before that, be sure to have an exit strategy, know the entrance which they will most likely enter, hope you aren't doing this ritual inside a room with only one door, and make your move when everyone is distracted! That's right! Run like your life depended on it (because it does!) Always be sure to be wearing normal clothes and good running shoes under your robe because you best ditch that place the minute you can.
    Its best to find a place to hide and wait it out if you can, as who knows what nasty buggers are lurking around the perimeter? Just don't stay in the main building as investigators have a habit of setting fire or blowing up buildings with cult related activity in them.
    If you can't do this, I suggest stealing some car keys before hand, or learning how to hot wire for a quick and safe getaway. Just be sure to ditch the car after the sun rises! With any luck all evidence of you being in the cult would be burned up along with the corpses of monsters and your former colleagues, leaving you free as a bird (except for those nightmares and therapy!)
    And there you have it! You managed to survive the worst decision in your life, and once again are free to hopefully not join another cult! For additional aid please grab "So, an Investigator is Trying to Kill You?" Who knows, you might need it!

Sweetwater: Anniversary II

Twilight had just begun creeping over the town by the time Gertie had made her way home, a cozy cottage amongst other cozy cottages tucked away along a road that neatly divided the edge of Sweetwater forest and civilization.
     Gertie hauled a few large bags up and fumbled her way into the kitchen, pausing to enjoy the ever present scent of dried herbs adding to the "witches kitchen" aesthetic that swallowed up the remnants of a tired and aged kitchen that was there when they moved in. (The living room had been Gerties project, turned into the home of mismatched comfy furniture, Persian rugs, and animal plushies.)
    The back door was open, screen door allowing a cool breeze to gently roll in bringing with it the scent of magic (such scent varies from person to person, for this particular witch they gave off the smell of cooked walnuts and honey). Gertie peeked out into the backyard with a smile creeping on her face. Much like the kitchen the backyard belonged to Sami and was soaked in mystique and magic the circular garden could cram into it.
    Plant life both familiar and strange grew in the beds; basil, mint, lavender, sage, foxgloves and butterfly bushes. Among them grew strange lupines, thin stalks that held fat golden buds that swayed without wind and held a swirling luminescence within their petals. The same invisible winds seemed to move the willow trees leaves as it sat at the front of the garden.
    At the center of all this was a simple stone bench which Sami sat. Love, one might say is sparked by the first glance of someone, Gertie however fell in love all over again when she laid eyes on Sami. They were petite and willowy, almost buried in the big fuzzy cardigan and rose printed skirt with long blond hair tumbling over her back. Their large round glasses sat next to a crescent sickle on the bench.
    Even if she couldn't see Sami's face Gertie knew they had a serene smile on their face as her hands slowly danced though the unseeable forces that swirled and flowed though the garden, through and around the strange Lupines and gold tinged leaves of Sami's willow.
    They had tried to explain magic to Gertie, how they had to "make sure it's an eddy not a swamp, so the flowers can grow right." The more complicated details went over Gerties head, but she knew garden tending took time. Which gave her ample time to prep her gift.
    After the sun stubbornly quit and the night made itself at home, Sami wandered back into the house. She set several bushels of herbs and now blooming lupines (the irony of the name not lost on either) and began separating them into twine held bundles. She could see Gertie holding herself back, and once she was finished she braced for her usual greeting: a bear (wolf?) hug, topped with a kiss to the top of Samis' head.
    "Happy Anniversary flower child." Gertie said sweetly.
    there was a short pause before Sami said, "Oh shoot, was that today?"
    Awkward silence came crashing in like a tree falling on top of a Prius. the werewolfs head spun with so many thoughts and responses to this situation and eventually decided to shift forms to hold Sami up and pout in a way only lycanthrops can.
    It took a good five seconds before the witches poker face cracked, a fit of giggles broke free. This prompted their girlfriend to sit her on the kitchen counter, cross her arms, huffing loudly and turning away.
    "No Floofs come back!" Sami giggled, only receiving an indignant grunt in response.
    " I got you that pink fur dye you wanted." she said in a sing song voice.
    Gertie looked over her shoulder.
    " I even got a heart stencil so we can do the pattern you liked from Para-naturals." 
    It must be said, werewolves do not have the best poker faces in their other forms, as Gertie's tail started to wag and eventually returned to hugging Sami in an even more warm and fluffy fashion. There tender moment was interuptted by Gerties brain, reminding her of the tidal wave of excietment and panic that congealed into the picnic basket sitting on the table, managing to look expectant without a face.
    She shifted Sami into one arm and grabbed the basket and jogged out the door, a big grin plastered to her face.
    " Uh Floofs? Where are we going?" Sami asked, wrapping their arms around the werewolves neck.
    " Someplace," she said making sure her mate and the basket was firmly in hand (paw?) before sprinting into the tree line at supernatural speeds that left the surprised, and then excited shouts of Sami behind them.
    If you asked any couple new or old, the adventure to Blue Moon Lake is just as     If you asked any couple new or old, the adventure to Blue Moon Lake is just as romantic as the place itself. Legend has it if you do find the lake with water so clear and blue the moon always reflects with the same shade, then your love will last eternal.
    Gertie had blindly found the correct series of woodland paths on their fist date with Sami. It had been a magical night, aided in its rose tinting by a copious amount of alcohol.  She thankfully remembered the way to the shore of the luminescent lake.
    A steriotypical checkered sheet laid out, wine, along with a chicken dinner and a bluetooth speaker playing a certian old song by a famous crooner that was the right amount of cheesy. Looking into Sami's eyes Gertie could see a mixture of surprise, love, and a bit of bemusemnt, further shown by her tell tale grin.
    " What?" asked Gertie.
    " Nothing, my romantic." she giggled.
    Gertie blushed and chuckled along with her, before she leaned in and kissed the little witch. The food and wine momentarily forgotten as they pulle themselves closer and held the moment as the song reached its climax before Gerties stomach grumbled and prompted Sami to giggle.
    " Well, we should eat before the food gets cold." the witch said. " So your stomach can't ruin any more romantic moments."
    "Agreed." Gertie said, happily tearing off a leg while Sami carved herself off a piece.