Tales of Triumph

Original article posted by Cornelius:

I can see that I’ve been away for far too long. Unfortunately, I’m only half-way through. The good news is that I’m half-way done. And I’ll be coming home in January for a couple of weeks. I’ll have to make the rounds, if I can find out where everyone lives now. Except for Asmodeus. As funny as he is to listen to, I’m afraid that I’d just end up hurting him a whole lot for being so cruel to Kelly. That’s uncalled for. You can dislike someone all you want to, but there’s no excuse for not being civil.

Its been a long time, but there’s not been much happening here. Mostly we’ve been getting shot at and blown up. Fortunately the insurgents are a cowardly and superstitious lot. Also, they can’t hit anything smaller than a baseball field on purpose. They hit us occasionally, but we’ve been getting them by the dozens and they get us in twos and threes.

For those of you who want to know what this place is like, watch Dune. It’s not far from the truth. I’ve even ridden the sandworm.

Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve not much else to say. Except for I’m looking forward to hearing from those of you who know me. Oh, keep up the good work Asmodeus. I need a good laugh once in a while. “Summon a tuna sandwich.” That’s classic!

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Asmodeus
Re: Thanks to all of the Villagers.
I have a few military people under my wing, Jester is E.O.D.

As for me being so cruel to kellers, oh and its Kellie not with the Y but that is ok I dont judge its not my name after all. Look at it this way, I am a super power (that is just a metaphor) and kellie will be the small country that says it wont take it anymore she wants nothing to do with my country. She tells me that contact is cut off and that negotiations are no longer usefull. Well that pisses my super power country off, how can you be civil if you can not open a dialogue, well you have no other option but war of course.

Hence I am here like America setting up one of my bases, I could be far more worse believe you me and small country kellie also knows that I can be far more cruel to her, of course I could drop a thermal nuclear weapon on her country (from what Jester tells me is far more destructive than us civilians think, and of course he can not tell me how big one of those suckers can get) also a metaphor saying that I have not done anything yet, what i am doing right now is feeling some of you out doing some surveilance if you will, only one of you has caught on though.

I do not underestimate the enemy at all I am cautious how I tread and I have appeared on here with more than one Alias, you just do not know which Aliases I have I am four people in life and on here.

Cornelius may I ask you, what it is that you are doing for your job in the military? Have you been to the great city of Babylon? I heard most of the ruins are under water or at least were under some type of lake, just curious you dont have to answer.

Anyways as a person in the military you know just as well as I, that in any event with fighting, neither of us can stop until negotiations are started and I dont see her doing that at all, so she deserves my cruelty as it escalates now doesn’t she. but of course she uses you people to try to deter me and of course it is not working.

I know how to find her, its only a matter of when she decides to stop pouting and talk to me rather than hit and run, she should know me well enough by now that it does not work to just insult me and run away because I will find ways to fight back.

Anyways I am done with this part I am here to talk to someone in private so if you will by my leave.


Original article posted by bluesman:

Asmodeus knew that today would be the day.

As the customers walked into the QuikyMart, all he could think of was the impending carnage and destruction that awaited them! Oh, the unquenchable fires that would melt the flesh off of their apostate bones! As Asmodeus refilled the 32oz cups, he pictured the screams of agony that would accompany their demise!

Last night’s blood ritual, that most delightful of magus pasttimes, had provided ample signs in the mess of chicken blood and rat bones that littered the floor of DeathMonger’s mom’s garage that today would be the beginning of the Apocalypse! Well, ok, not chicken blood–Asmodeus tried, but his first attempt at catching and eviscerating a chicken had only left him with a small scar on his left hand and a deep and abiding fears of the unpredictability of chickens. But, what does that matter to one who can command the demons of the 7 Infernal Pits? In the end he got some corn syrup and dropped in some red food coloring. Now he had the necessary medium to communicate with the nether-spirits! The rat bones had been easy to come by; Charlie’s–I mean, DeathMonger’s–mom’s basement had plenty of mouse bones still clanking together sadly in the traps scattered around the cardboard boxes. Asmodeus knew that Belial, the Wrathful One, would overlook these small discrepancies. He knows it’s not so much a matter ingredients as it is raw, elemental magus power! The power of the mind! Asmodeus knows how to perform the correct hand gestures to call up the screeching hell slaves! Granted, he has to take off the spiky wrist bands and neck collar (they do poke one’s flesh so), but after that, watch out!

Yes, today would be the day.

Had not Asmodeus himself read the signs? Of course! Well, he wasn’t completely sure at the time whether that mouse femur laying atop of the ribcage meant “death for all unbelievers” or “your lucky number is 8”, so he opened up the “Beginners Guide to Sign Reading” to find out which it was. Nothing in his mess on the floor of the garage was to be found in the book. But either way, what does it matter? He is a magus! He can perform transmutations! He can enslave the souls of beast and man alike! As Asmodeus pondered this, he was rudely interrupted by a fat customer asking if he could replace the empty Pepsi syrup dispensers.

“Fah! How about I inscribe a pentagram on your pudgy chest so that a fiery imp may burst forth from your chest? How would you like that? Ha ha!”

Today would definitely be the day.

“Look at this pathetic loser, asking me if he can use his debit card! Your credit card will be useless to you when the Seven Horsemen come! Ha!”

Amid the shouts of “Where is the bathroom?”, “Turn my pump on!” and “How do I get back onto the interstate from here?” Asmodeus is calmly anticipating the advent of Ragnarok. The soda, spit and hot dog relish that is slopped on his shirt as he works only fuels his rage! How these people will wail! How they will cry out for death! Asmodeus grabs his Walkman as he goes out to empty the garbage bags. Damn! His sister has taken out “Demon Flight” and left in her Britney Spears again! Ohhh, the audacity! A curse waits for you, sister, after I get off!

Today might be the day.

It’s almost time to go, but Asmodeus still has to change the washing buckets, fill the ice machine, and sweep the floors. Asmodeus looks up into the skies, but oddly does not see dark clouds of doom, or the crimson tails of brimstone falling to the earth. He wonders. Maybe he was off a bit in his calculations. That’s ok. Next week he has a trip planned to GothWorld and Lisa–I mean, NightSister–is planning on going.

Asmodeus really likes NightSister–she is the coolest 19th level Witch that works at the Burger Barn.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Asmodeus
Re: A Day in the Life of Asmodeus
Bravo, good story, I likes, except replace chicken blood with my own, devils prefer human sacrifice, so I have to use my own blood. Oh and I dont predict future events, not my thing you know. However I do believe in the Antichrist and do believe that entity is Nigh.

Oh yeah by the way too, most spells I do not one ounce of english is spoken. Want to learn how? Use your thoughts concentrate and see it that is all you have to do not talk the other relm does not care for spoken language.

Oh yeah and one other thing though, your credit card will not be useless to you it will be used against you and money will not exhist at all it will be credit only.

that is all I guess good story though, except for the ending cant i be the guy that flips out in the 7-11 and wastes everybody with a sawed off shot gun, really that sounds more like me, maybe gut a few people as the police come in and pump several rounds in me.

Nickname: Stephanie
Re: A Day in the Life of Asmodeus
You know, that is seriously disturbing.
Not the story, that was actually pretty funny. But the comment. With the gutting people and the sawed off shutgun. I say “ew”
And that is all

Nickname: Cornelius
Re: A Day in the Life of Asmodeus
This is an absolutely hilarious story! Kudos to the man who wrote this.

Nickname: Asmodeus
Re: A Day in the Life of Asmodeus
Like where is my Like book of morman, like i so dont care right now, you are just grossing me out, oh whatever.

Nickname: Stephanie
Re: A Day in the Life of Asmodeus
Can you say childish? Because that pretty much decribes this comment.
And just because I happened to live in Utah for a few months doesn’t make me a “molly mormon”, so don’t jump to conclusions so quickly, and don’t think that my reaction stems from religious zeal.
And on another note, I would like to request that you tone down your entries a bit, or I will do it for you.

Original article posted by arylaina:

I, too, have experienced bodily betrayal when faced with stress. I spent a good portion of last summer having violent seizures. At first, I thought it was some sort of allergy (I was doing repair work in an old, smelly house), but they kept getting worse and worse, until finally I wound up in the emergency room. The doctor identified them as pseudoseizures.

There was nothing wrong with me physically. I was projecting my mental anguish onto my physical body. The scary part was that I thought I was doing okay, mentally. I thought I’d dealt with the pain of a recent messy breakup, and all sorts of other stress and disillusionment, and repression after repression, and was moving on up. But I was wrong; I was only beginning to slide down, and it took a lot of heavy, uncontrollable twitching and nights of sobbing for me to realize that I needed to stop, breathe, and work on the problem.

So I worked on it. And I worked on it. And I’m still working on it. I’ve spent most of this school year in some sort of daze, trying to deal with things that have happened and keep happening. Anger bordering on blind rage at people that don’t really deserve it; or maybe they do, but I was hurting myself more than them. Getting so mad and so upset that I can’t even see, or hear anything other than a buzzing in my ears as, once again, my head starts twitching back and forth like a primitive robot with a wire loose and I’ve got a painful knot at the base of my neck when it’s all over.

I clung to people that don’t have anything to cling to. I looked in all the wrong places for help and satisfaction (on different levels) and something to cure the loneliness I constantly felt, something to stop up the black hole gradually draining my very soul. I thought physical intimacy was a good pain reliever, and sometimes it worked. Sometimes I felt uplifted, like I could fly. But other times it only tore the hole wider and speeded my descent. Had it been with someone who actually cared beyond the moment maybe it wouldn’t have gone that way. Depression and anxiety have been my most steady companions.

The seizures didn’t stop once they were identified, either. I knew exactly what I was doing. I brought them on myself. Even sitting here, right now, if I wanted, I could have a seizure. They’re scary to watch, scary to experience, and apparently also bizarrely attractive (as stated by none other than the infamous Rodney).

I’ve used them as a coping mechanism. And I’ve finally realized that maybe that’s okay. Yes, it’s not quite normal, but it really does relieve the pressure inside my head. And hey, in my opinion, it’s better than causing property damage, breaking your hand against a wall, or cutting yourself where you think no one will see. I haven’t done any substance abuse, I just sit quietly in my room or the bathroom, and violently shake until I think I can face people again.

And it’s tapering off. Long conversations late at night with a wonderful friend who was willing to abandon whatever she was doing (including sleeping) when I needed to talk have made me realize that I really am okay. The only thing really standing in my way is my inability to let things go. I hold everything in, I horde my pain, it’s all mine, look how terrible I am, look how much I screw things up, here, let me find another example, I know I’ve got one somewhere. But I’m going to stop now; I don’t need that. All I needed was to just let it out, talk about things, learn that what I’m feeling may not be the best course, but that it’s okay to be on it while I look for a better one.

I found a better course. I’m starting to just take things as they are, people as they are, situations that I can’t control as they are. I wish I could remember who said this, I think it was from “Anais Nin,” it was quoted in a Charles De Lint short story, and I hope I’ve got it right—“People don’t behave the way they should; they behave the way they do.” I’ve learned to live with that, finally. That doesn’t just apply to other people, either. That applies to me. Sometimes I just can’t really help myself, and I’ve got enough self-preservation built in that the things I do are never going to be seriously harmful, just really silly. That’s okay. I’ll make a great fictional character. Or possibly several—I have a lot of personality.

So now that I have finally figured out what’s going on inside me, it’s time to pay attention to the outside. I’m leaving Cedar City. I’ve had some wonderful times here, with some great people I’ll remember all my life and possibly after, who will be fictionalized again and again in my writing because they’re just not believable outside of a story.

But it’s time to go. Things are dying. It’s autumn, and I want to leave before the trees die and the world turns gray. The group is splintering—ask just about anyone. I’ve reached my own personal spring, and it’s time to migrate. I’ve applied to the University of Utah, and with any luck I’ll not only get accepted, I’ll receive a scholarship. Off to study film instead of news broadcasting. Off to a big city where they actually have vintage clothing stores. And libraries, mmmm. And hopefully, off to a new adventure with all sorts of new people to meet that will be just as crazy as the ones down here, and will become just as dear to me.

When I actually get various letters from the U. I’ll do some sort of grand goodbye, though it’s not like I’m leaving the virtual village. I treasure you all. I will never forget my one magical year (even though I’ve been here two).

Post script—I had to leave the computer lab in the Centrum right after that last sentence. I intended to submit this from the library, and was walking toward the Rotunda when I heard all this singing! A choir class was in the loft area, surround sound, singing something quite pretty. There was a piano in the center by the statue, and everyone had just stopped what they were doing, and listened. It was so weird, and so surreal, and so utterly memorable. It was about as unexpected as the sky suddenly turning chartreuse. I sat down on the steps and just stared. Wow.

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Chellee
Re: Betrayal is part of our nature
Hey, I’m in that choir! I’m glad you like it. Singing in the Rotunda is really interesting. The acoustics do really weird things. Anyway, good day!

Original article posted by chamblin:


Original article posted by ravenpaine:

I’m not particularly certain why it is that I am taking the time to add a note of triumph to the site today. But I am.

There are times in your life, such as now, when everything is going less well for you than it could be. I blame high standards. I think that perhaps we are all trying a little to hard to get it all.

Remember back in the day? Grade school, high school, those kind of days? Back then it was enough simply to attend class and then go home to flop on the couch. You might read, you might hang out with the crew, you might watch some TV. No matter what you did though, it fell into that second category. You knew that school was one chunk of the day then everything else was the other chunk of the day.

This is no longer true. Between school, which we don’t attend, and our jobs, which we do not like, we spend less time with our friends, who are never having a good day, and we never can seperate today from tomorrow from yesterday.

And that is why we fail.

I myself am busy not failing. I have been kicking everything for the last two weeks. Sure, I have the occasional crap hour, Monday was sort of horrible for the first half, but I march forward and continue. Stagger onward rejoicing.

So, yeah. Today I am doing what I can. Today I have already registered for the Maymester, gotten $1600 for the summer, taken a French test and even had time to eat breakfast. From here I still have three more tasks to accomplish and then it is four day weekend time. Yes, the glory of it.

By this time next week I will only have three assignments left to complete my semester and I will have enough money to pay for my May rent and my court fine.

I kick so much ass that a new, uber-ass is being created by twisted geneticists hidden in secret bunkers world wide just so that I might actually be challenged.

And, in the words of Spider Jerusalem, I have only just begun to fuck with you people.

Rodney TGAP

Orginal comments:

Nickname: jaddes_green
Re: Viva!
I know that kid from the Tales of Triumph pic. I meet him at drama compatition. Anyways….

Original article posted by Soft_Pen:

I have just had a fantastic weekend. You may want to know the cause, but, you probably don’t. I feel good: the world didn’t give me a wedgie and then pull my underwear over my forehead (today, at least):

My youngest daughter, Macie (the two year old), finally has hair long enough to put into pigtails. Now, she has two little wispy sprouts of hair on either side of her head, and when she runs around they bob up and down, or, if she’s really cruising, bend gently backwards in a soft flutter. And when they came out, I got to call her Batman, ’cause her upright hair had spread out just so.

My older daughter, Abbie, is well on her way to becoming a worldclass artist. She can draw a human face, and the eyeballs even have irises. I am amazed at her ability at the age of four to produce consistent work, and I am very excited at the prospect of living comfortably off of the revenue of her talent.

I figured out a tough lick on a Stevie Ray Vaughn song. It takes patience to train your ear to hear those notes, but the pay off is fabulous.

I was introduced to Lightnin’ Hopkins. The recordings are terrible (we’re talking 20’s technology here), but I love his style – soft 12 bar blues on an Epiphone acoustic, punctuated by furious oblique bends, twangy pull-offs, and outright jack hammer picking.

The room where my computer rests is completely clean. There truly is something to be said about not working amid filth. You can walk from the door to the swivel chair without fear; without having to tip toe between discarded Twix wrappers, tangled guitar cords, CD cases and Cheerios. It seems as if my mind is able to expand and fill up the corners in that room, now that it no longer resembles a blast site.


Now, I have to ask this: would you people be willing to critique some music I have been working on, if Rodney let’s me post it? It’s not all blues; some is industrial, some is acoustic. It would just be for fun, really. Comments are welcome (demanded?).

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Chellee
Re: I’m Happy.
Hi, I’d critique it, if you really want. I just want to know how brutal you want me to be, cuz in an anonymous setting, I can get kind of mean. Unless you’re good. Which you must be. Hello, Stevie. Wow. Anyway, yeah.