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Kyra – A quick recap

Publié par Kanata le 18 avril 2011
Ceci est l'article 2 sur 4 de la série Kyra

I was lying there, in my own blood. Three arrows in my back, one in my leg. Funny how blood taste like iron, I had noticed it days before, when they started beating me and I got all that blood in my mouth almost all day long. But today it was different; it wasn’t in my mouth, but more in the air, a smell, the iron smell of my own death.

No more pain though, no more torture. I was glad in a way. I couldn’t feel a thing anymore; which is something I had hoped for so many times in the past few days. Peace was coming at last…

The horror was going to end there, in that field. The vision of my family; butchered in front of me by those green monsters was fading, as was those terrible days following the massacre, were I was repeatedly tortured, raped and famished. Yes… Peace at last… I just had to let it go, forget it all, and take the trip to join my loved ones…

And I did… I died that day, in that field. The teenage girl that I was died, her body and her mind broken by the monstrosities she had endured.

That was a long time ago, and today I am still wondering what happened exactly in that field where I died. I mean I do remember waking up against a tree, hurting from the fresh wounds. But I cannot be sure if the incantations I heard were real or just the figment of my imagination. Was I saved by a roaming druid? And if that so, why did he leave before I regain consciousness?

For years I questioned myself of that matter, I do it less now. After all, maybe I wanted to live so badly that I came back, that I crawled under that tree myself, got rid of the arrows piercing my body and lost consciousness for a while, who knows?

One thing for sure, it doesn’t change the fact that a girl died that day, and I, Kyra, was the one who woke up.

Ten years I had to live on my own. Steal what I could from the beasts of the wild, from the streets of the cities, from the wanderers off the roads. Making my own rules, which really was essentially ONE simple rule: Survive at all costs!

Those ten years, and what started it all, made me what I am today: a rogue. No shame, that’s who I am today, I don’t deny it, and I don’t hide it either.

I made my first kill at twelve years old, it was a boar. The beast was going through my stash of berries and apples that had taken me days to get. I grabbed the first thing I could, a dead branch, and I started pounding the beast until it stopped moving and squealing. When it was over, I was covered in blood and sweat… I really did not enjoy it. But, it gave me meat for days… So I did it again, and again…

At fifteen, a wood dweller thought I was pretty – and more if affinity. There was no affinity on my part, but he insisted, so… I treated him like a boar, at least for the clubbing part of it. He wanted to be inside of me so badly that I did give him this satisfaction after all. I bite and swallowed its left piggy during our fight, to distract him before the final blow. I mean, he was twice my size, that’s fair enough right?

Honestly, I prefer boar meat anyway. But hey, if I had been hungry at that time, his corpse might not have ended up rotting in the open for the beasts to feast on…

Kyra – Profile

Publié par Kanata le 18 avril 2011
Ceci est l'article 1 sur 4 de la série Kyra


Durant mes années noires où je n’écrivais pas officiellement, il faut croire que cela me hantait tout de même, car j’ai sombré dans le « Fanfiction » (fictions basées sur un univers dont on est fan). Ce qui suit sont des textes entièrement inspirés de l’univers du jeu de rôles « World of Warcraft ». Simples profiles de personnage, ou journaux intimes d’avatar, il faut y voir un manque que je cherchais à combler. Évidemment si vous n’êtes pas au fait de l’univers de ce jeu, certaines choses vous passeront au dessus de la tête, voir seront franchement longues et sans intérêt, mais bon, quand on joue la transparence, il faut aller jusqu’au bout ;-)
Ha! J’oubliais… c’est en anglais dans le texte :-P


Name: Kyra

Race: Human

Class: Rogue

Professions: Mining & Skining

Current Home:
If there is one thing Kyra does not have, it’s definitively a home or a base of operation. She’s everywhere and nowhere, impossible to find, she never stays long in the place.


Age: 25

Brief Physical Description:
Her angel face of a rare purity could get her whatever she wants from the crowds if it was not for her terrible eyes.
Contrasting completely with her face, her hazelnut eyes are catching the slightest of ambient light, making then shine with an incredible hardness. This window on her soul is glimpsing a ferocious determination, unhealthy. A psyche so perverted that anyone strong enough to support her glare more than a mere instant as to wonder if Kyra is still a human being…

 Smaller than average, the frail frame of Kyra is the stigma of growth slowed by malnutrition. Yet her stature remains queen-like. She moves with a rare flexibility and her gestures are almost Elvish in accuracy, which gives her an even more strange inhuman aspect. Her long hair of the same color as her eyes are attached in the back, maintained by a series of leather laces that stiffens it enough so that it never shifts before her face regardless of the nature and the speed of her movements.

 Her sun tanned skin is free of any makeup. However, the top of her left shoulder wears the scar of a former burn, too clear to be accidental; it looks rather like the print of a mark made by a red iron. Although most of the drawing remains hidden under the dusty leather clothing, the little that shows looks like a Horde’s symbol.

 By her posture, gestures and especially her gaze, Kyra lets out an aura that makes most people uncomfortable. Yourself, after having observed her at length, are starting to feel awkward… Especially since she’s been giving you an icy stare over her shoulder, clearly indicating she’s onto you…


Brief Personality Description:
Kyra is mentally unstable combining borderline, paranoid and obsessive compulsive disorder.

Goals and motivators:
She’s in for revenge and hate the Horde with her guts, especially Orcs.

Passionate about the war:
War or peace does not matter to her, she will kill any Horde she comes across. War time is just making her task that more easy.

A typical quote: 
Revenge is for men, let women deal with Vengeance

Kyra holds a personal journal you can refer to.

Cythra – Profile

Publié par Kanata le 17 avril 2011


Durant mes années noires où je n’écrivais pas officiellement, il faut croire que cela me hantait tout de même, car j’ai sombré dans le « Fanfiction » (fictions basées sur un univers dont on est fan). Ce qui suit sont des textes entièrement inspirés de l’univers du jeu de rôles « World of Warcraft ». Simples profiles de personnage, ou journaux intimes d’avatar, il faut y voir un manque que je cherchais à combler. Évidemment si vous n’êtes pas au fait de l’univers de ce jeu, certaines choses vous passeront au dessus de la tête, voir seront franchement longues et sans intérêt, mais bon, quand on joue la transparence, il faut aller jusqu’au bout 😉
Ha! J’oubliais… c’est en anglais dans le texte 😛

Name: Cythra (Darla)

Race: Gnome

Class: Warlock

Professions: Alchemist & Engineer

Current Home: Stormwind.

Age: 27

Brief Physical Description:
Fresh and with a juvenile face making her real age hard to guess, Cythra is
wearing two enormous pink tails accentuating again her childish, almost
cherubim look.

Her appearance will put a smile on the sturdiest adventurers.

But her albino eyes, oh her eyes!! They are an abomination of steadiness. White
pupils circling a dark pit connecting her soul to the deepest hellish
realms.   You cannot stand her look, it
frightens you to your very core. She never blinks, never drops her look off
you. And you realize that your soul is now slowly fading away from your body…
Break eye contact now! There might still be hope for you…

Brief Personality Description:
Cythra is the most egocentric character you’ll ever meet (hopefully for you).
All she cares about is her. All she says or does is aimed only at pleasing her.
Luckily enough her range of pleasurable things is quite large, so if you can
stand her enough to stick around, you will not get bored. She likes souls, and
to get them she enjoys to make little girls squeals in pain, burn bunnies
alive, inflict excruciating pain known to no man or woman still alive, hurt
babies, massacre entire families, destroy whatever others value most, etc…

On the scale of things there is bad, chaotic, hellish, demoniac, evil, and then
there is Cythra.

Goals and motivators:
Cythra wants to inflict pain to all and everything. It is the only thing she
knows can appease her, that, and maybe Power…

Passionate about the war:
Cythra loves war, any war; she can dwell into it all day long. Ravaging enemies
and being acclaimed for it, what’s not to like?

The only problem with war is that she has to constantly remind herself of who
is the enemy. Apparently, your side does not appreciate it when you land a
curse on them, and honestly, the “horde” does not seem that bad (and she knows
bad!) nor does the alliance seem that good, so mistakes can happen right? Who’s
to count a few more screams on the battlegrounds anyway?

A typical quote:
You should never separate children from their parents. That is why I always
kill the whole family.

Darla ((her real name)) was raised in the typical, engineer oriented gnomish
family. Her Dad, an expert in engineered weaponry was often afar for is
research, but nonetheless loving and caring.

Her mom was just the best mom ever. Making pie, playing with her and her
younger brother, telling them stories of all kind. Life was good and filled
with love in their small yet practical home dug in the flank of a beautiful
hill just in the outskirts of Gnomeregan.

As she grew up, Darla developed
a knack for the arcane, and started studying the trades of mages. She was still
living home in her late teens when the great Gnomeregan incident happened. Sadly,
that day she was in, visiting her dad…

In the aftermath of the explosion, it so happened that her dad was pinned down
by a support beam that had fell from a corridor junction. Darla, herself
slightly injured on the left leg, tried to free him with no success.

After hours roaming the area looking for help, it became clear they were
stranded deep in the capital rumbles. Deep, alone, and soon in the complete
darkness as all remaining power to the emergency systems wore off…

Darla took care of her father
for days, using the water dripping from the walls to refresh him, using her
magic to create some light from time to time to check on him. But as the days
passed and the hope of being rescued slowly vanished, so did her dad. It was
ultimately a relief, as for the last three days she couldn’t bear to hear him
scream in agony, panting, begging her to kill him.

And so Darla was left alone
with toxic dripping water, radiations, no food, and the corpse of her father at
her side. Soon she did not have enough strength left to use any kind of magic
and was left in a pitch  black room,
waiting to die… But death did not come to deliver her. Instead, she felt the
thousands needles of hunger piercing her belly, and the madness taking its hold
on her mind.  After a month it was
unbearable, she was so weak she could not move a muscle, and yet she was alive,
feeling every bit of pain in her body and her mind, every minute, every
seconds, the pain was ticking like a clock, forbidding her to slip into coma or
better yet; death…

What doom had her keep living, what twisted fate could let her survive like

She was not anymore, at least
not a gnome, not a living being… She was just pain and suffering. How long has
it been? Two, three months? No gnome can survive that long with no food and the
little water dripping on her face… Then how long? And why no one came? Where
was her loving mother? Her cherished little brother? Where was anyone for that

Darla never survived the
Gnomeregan destruction, but one year later, day to day on the anniversary date
of the explosion, Cythra came out of the rumbles. Someone had to step up,
someone with the guts of doing whatever was necessary to survive, Darla could
not do it, so after nearly 2 months of pain and starvation, Cythra did.

The radiations protecting the corpse from putrefaction, Cythra had more than
enough on a grown gnome body to be able to sustain herself for a while,
regaining enough strength to start using the arcane. Yet, since her training
was still at its beginning she could not manage to concentrate enough power to
free herself from the devastated room.

Arcane itself did not cut it, but Cythra knew that in dark places laid a power,
forbidden by mages; a power vastly superior here in the darkness… A few weeks
later she had taught herself enough to escape the room in a blasting bolt of
shadows, only to find herself prisoner of the entirely destroyed city maze.

Sustaining herself on corpses, troggs and rats, discovering the new ways of the
shadows, it finally took Cythra nine more months to get to the outside world on
her own. The radiations and darkness had rendered her eyes totally white but
for two pitch black pupils. Other than that, once properly washed and brushed,
she will look just like a charming little gnome. But before that she had
something to do… Kill those that had abandoned her… And she knew exactly where
to find them… In a cozy house, dug in the flank of a charming hill, not far
from where she had just emerged…


Publié par Kanata le 17 avril 2011

AT 22 – Iron (multimedia)

Pour cet AT22, l’équipe des songes vous propose une nouvelle expérience : Travailler à partir d’une vidéo musicale !

Consigne :
Des éléments de la vidéo )images ou paroles) devront être une base essentielle de votre nouvelle.

Taille maximale : 20 000 signes (tolérance 5%)
Date limite : 15 juillet 2011, à Minuit
Genre : Science Fiction, Fantastique, Fantasy
Format : Nouvelle
Adresse où envoyer vos tapuscrits :

Rappels :
– Votre nom ne doit pas figurer dans votre fichier. Il est à mettre dans le mail que vous envoyez.
– Indiquez le nombre de signes en bas de votre dernière page.
– Numérotez vos pages.
– Votre nouvelle doit être inédite, jamais publiée dans un webzine, fanzine.
– Un jury, composé de membres du forum, désignera la nouvelle gagnante.
Celle-ci sera alors mise en ligne dans le prochain webzine des Songes :
Les Brèves du Crépuscule.

Plus d’informations sur le forum :
Vous pouvez télécharger les précédents numéros sur le site des Songes : A la croisée des Crépuscules…

Paroles :

Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away
Where innocences burn in flames
A million mile from home, I’m walking ahead
I’m frozen to the bones, I am
A soldier on my own, I don’t know the way
I’m riding up the heights of shame
I’m waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I’m ready for the fight, and fate
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head,
The thunder of the drums dictates
The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads
The rising of the horns, ahead
From the dawn of time to the end of days
I will have to run, away
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again
This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands,
I’m frozen to the bones, I am
A million mile from home, I’m walking away
I can’t remind your eyes, your face

La douche

Publié par Kanata le 14 avril 2011


Les « textes à voix » comme leur nom l’indique, trouvent toute leur valeur lorsqu’ils sont parlés, et donc écoutés. Les liaisons, les élisions et leur rythme en général risquent de ne pas être retranscrits correctement par une simple lecture. C’est sans doute paradoxal pour un texte écrit, mais c’est aussi ce qui fait toute la force de la tradition orale et contée.


On ne peut pas être sérieux tout le temps, non , c’est vrai quoi, la société, ça va 5 minutes, mais hé ! Avouez que c’est plutôt triste comme bilan non ?

Alors ce petit texte est un pur délire, et d’ailleurs je le dédicace à POC, le maître des délires en tout genre.

Il est courant avec ce genre de texte que l’auteur se mette à nu
Et cette fois, c’est littéralement que je vais apparaître devant vous dévêtu
Car dans ce texte je vais vous parler d’un acte qui tous nous touche
Je vais vous entretenir, vous l’aurez peut-être déjà compris, de la douche
Et à moins que vous ne soyez du genre pudique à vous laver tout habillé
Vous devrez bien convenir que c’est en général plus pratique quand on est dénudé
Alors, on a tous nos petites habitudes nos petites manies quand viennent les ablutions
Je ne fais pas exception à la règle et j’ai moi-même mes petites habitudes au fond
Je me lave dans le sens de l’eau, du haut vers le bas, avec une exception absolue
J’attends, j’exige de toujours terminer en me nettoyant le trou du …
ous rigolez, mais il n’y a vraiment pas de quoi, ce n’est pas le fruit de mon imagination
C’est tout de même le dernier des endroits qu’on voudrait voir se boucher et il mérite toute mon attention

Je commence donc par me shampouiner les cheveux
En prenant bien garde de ne pas m’en mettre dans les yeux
J’avoue que très tôt dans mon nettoyage, en fait dès le début
Je pense déjà à ce merveilleux instant où je vais me laver le trou du…
Mais c’est ma sacro-sainte règle, et je n’y dérogerais pas
C’est par là que je termine et en attendant je me lave de haut en bas
J’insiste sur le bas du visage, c’est important quand on est barbu
Presque aussi important que de se laver le trou du…
J’attaquerais bien le cou une fois mon visage récuré
Mais la sensation de l’eau qui coule le long de ma raie
Me déconcentre quelque peu et avant que je ne continue
Je songe de nouveau à me laver le trou du…

Je me retiens de justesse et termine de me nettoyer le cou
Puis c’est le tour des bras, des épaules et en dessous
Mais force est de l’admettre en arrivant sur mon torse velu
L’envie me reprend de me récurer le trou du …
À ce stade c’est vraiment une bataille de volonté
Je me reprends, je me calme et je continue à me laver
J’arrive à la partie la plus ventrue
Rapide pensée pour mon trou du …
Puis je m’applique à dénouer les nœuds de ma toison
Un endroit où il serait agréable de s’attarder parce que c’est bon
Mais ce n’est pas le thème du jour, ne soyons pas perdus
Pour le moment on parle bien de mon trou du …

J’en suis déjà aux jambes, il faut se baisser c’est plus ardu
Position qui irrémédiablement me donne envie de me doucher le trou du …
Je termine par les pieds, tiens faudra que je me coupe les ongles c’est griffu
Et vous l’aurez compris la prochaine étape, c’est enfin de m’occuper de mon trou du…
J’exhale, prêt à en profiter pleinement, puis je me redresse
Lentement, je passe les mains le long de mes fesses
Et enfin l’instant tant attendu
Cette fois ça y est le moment est venu
Je lève un doigt et enfin je me lave le trou du … canal auditif
Car pour moi, avoir les oreilles propres, c’est impératif.
Ben quoi, je vous sens quelque peu déçu ?
Non, gros cochons, vous pensiez que je parlais de mon trou du … ?