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[rednekra]

In which I talk about wearing a mask.

I thankfully never succeeded, but I remember being like this. It's tough to deal with some times. Depression a clever malice that makes you lie to those closest to you, attacks you when you're alone and when people try to learn what's going on, it can turn you aggressive. It knows how to isolate you and bring you down. It knows your weakest points and when to trigger them. I've noticed little trends coming back here and there with my anxiousness. It's horrible. It makes me worry about being worried. It's fatiguing. The better your life becomes the harder it tries too, because instead of seeing how much you've earned and how much you're achieving, it directs your attention to how much you can let people down and keeps you very keenly aware of every single way you can lose it all.  The drowning analogy always seems most apt because when you think you're going to escape the sea you find yourself doing nothing more that treading water. I get married less than a month from now. I start university sooner still, doing work in a field I'm really interested in. I'm excited about so much! I'll be moving away soon to live with a loving wife (by then!). I'm respected in my current work place. My family support me in a million ways. This is the reality. Depression won't let you see it that way though. I'm someone's burden for the rest of their life. I've signed up to grind myself for 3 years and will drop out before I even get close, like last time. My dreams are unbelievable fantasy. I'm going to isolate myself from nearly everyone I know and love. I've failed at ever advancing in work places so I'm set to just coast off a bottom of the line job the rest of my days. This is the world Depression tries to cover your eyes with. These are things I hear myself entertain as ideas before I reaffirm myself. It's a hard fight some days. Chester knew he had a family that loved him, a band of friends who supported his creative endeavours, regardless of how much they flipped the script. He was a solid foundation that people built on emotionally... But still he had to live day to day as an actor. The Boy Who Smiles. Thanks to anyone who read this, and I hope you can get a little bit of insight into what goes on in someone like mine, or Chester's head. I can't claim that he went through what I'm going through entirely... but this is something highly familiar. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp00DMy3aVw This was one of the last songs he wrote. I can't listen to it often because it hits far too close to home. I ask people listen to the lyrics. Read them. He says it far better than me.  

[rednekra]

1 Year Anniversary Giveaway!

For our 1 Year Anniversary we are giving away a Gaea’s Cradle (from the set Urza’s Saga, its real!). This contest is going on on our Facebook page mainly but fear not - our friends on Tumblr get a chance to win this awesomely powerful Commander card as well. Here’s what you can do to win:

Reblog: 1 Entry

Follow: 3 Entries

All entries are amassed into a giant pool, and a lucky winner will be announced on August 15th, 2017!

Check us out on Facebook for more ways to enter this giveaway! https://www.facebook.com/CommanderSociety/

We love the EDH community, and this is all for you - feel free to message me here or on Facebook if you have any questions.

[rednekra]

About the cats

Airyka Squared was wrong.

[rednekra]

Memory log. SEN-19M3

“Bruna, Gisella and Sigarda. Three twins named after the three sister angels from another world. The soldier, Vronos, came from a place named Innistrad and brought with him stories of these great protectors. These angels sought to save mankind from hosts of evils that sound like Grixian abominations. It seemed a fitting set of names to give these orphans when we brought them in to our sanctum. 

It was such a tragic story. They were simple teenagers who had survived the harsh runs in Tidehollow before being found by officials thanks to their unique trait. The three never seemed to speak out loud, save for one. The other two seemed to have some silent allure to them that made the words of the first melt the mental restraint of the listener. It had let them escape detection for a long time until they pushed it too far with some guards in an attempted extortion. I wish I could have done more for them with their time here.

Instead of suffering a trial they were offered a chance at something greater. Some of the houses here wanted to take full advantage of this rare ability, and offered up grand services under the quid pro quo of using this ability for themselves. It was decided that should this gift be contained, it must work for all of Esper. Someone who had nothing real to gain should take them. That was us, as it turned out. I was very curious.

The first time I met them, I had taken an immediate shine to them. To this day I’m not sure was something honest in my build or something they did themselves. I never wanted anything bad for them, so I made sure to give them my full attention. I wanted to make them want for nothing, so I attended them always. My design was flawless for the task. I cared for them. We had them with us at a facility in Sen, an outpost for The Arcane Sanctum to drive advances in knowledge which are deemed of lesser importance. The first task was to correctly identify the nature of the gift they controlled. It seemed like a form of mental compulsion tied to a telepathic link among the three. There was a number of debated trials the team here wanted to do with the girls, and once they realised we wanted nothing more than to see flourishing mage adepts become beholden to no one except the winds, they played along. It was only then we decided to name them. We gave them names of our own because they never divulged their own, or explained why it was important to hide it from us. The names in the end were of small concern, though for the ease of communication between the staff, we used the names of the Angels. A hope that with the right guidance, we could perfect them. We wanted nothing more than to protect ourselves, and our world. I had such a strong hope

Everything came to a head one day once we had learned from them, enough about the basic nature of their skills. The sculptors designed the path of enhancement. New bodies to live longer than nature saw fit. New minds to support and enhance the abilities they already mastered. The day of the transformation should have been an easy time. A grand celebration of the work we had done. It all came with a price. I regret it.

 The process to remove all ignoble parts from them started with no issue, with Bruna being the first. Her transformation was met with resounding glee from the other two, and the emotive Gisela shared with us that she could feel everything as it happened. An awakening she called it when we added the notion reliquary in to the head of Bruna. I grew excited.

To make sure we had contact with the triplets, we then applied etherium to Sigarda. She made for an eager host. They trusted us. We needed them. Once Bruna was taken to the recovery chambers the vedalken moved on exactly to schedule. The nervous energy coming from Gisela was overwhelming. It was clear she was scared for her sisters, but she was smiling brightly. She held onto me with a tight grip. It was an emotional display I’d rarely seen from her. I wish I got to see it again.

With the same driven logistics, Sigarda was taken to lie next to Bruna. There was no issue but the communication we had been using with the triplets as we worked was gone now that Gisela was being taken in. That same trepidatious energy in the room lost it’s positive charge and clung like a muggy sixteenth wind. The next time I had contact with them, it was clear that something was wrong. I didn’t know how to fix this.

Sigarda was the first to wake up which was deemed useful by the sculptors. She showed more of herself than Bruna did and it gave them an indication of how things were looking. Badly it seemed. She seemed to adjust instantly to her new body but her eyes were fixed only on Gisela. She got up to pace slowly next to her. Fears were doubled when Bruna came too. She sat up in her bed and just stared over, solemnity draping her.  I wanted to reassure them.

It seemed an age before something changed in the room, sculptors outside showing frayed edges over the completed product. With a crushing silence adding pressure I tried to speak up and let them know that these things just take longer for some people. One of the people who worked on the procedures walked in after some time to do a first hand examination of the notion reliquary. He moved silently over, joined immediately by the sisters. That was the first time I saw them work their spell. It was like a song only he could hear. Gisela awoke below him and her eyes flashed wide, staring into the examiner, whilst the other two pulled him close without any contact. That was when you could see it. It was like something was being pulled from him. Gisela slowly got up, holding him in as she slid out from the bed and lifting him onto it it. For the first time I heard Bruna and Sigarda speak. In unison, with the same voice they simply said. 

“She is gone.”

I was devastated. 

I couldn’t do anything more from here on for them. Gisela seemed together and looked aware, but held a hint of fear over in her expression. A moment of eternity passed to me. Vedalken and human sculptors watched from the outside unsure of how to act. The moment closed out with Gisela turning hollow and empty as the the examiner on the bed came to. He got up and started checking himself over. He makes sure his hands are his, that his face is his, his mind it’s own. He makes a show of looking collected and left quickly. The sisters take a seat on the floor all facing each other with crossed legs, Gisela looked into the nothingness as her sisters seemed to be reaching for her. I’ve seen them like this before, it was how they talked between themselves. I could never tell what was being said.

They sat like this for what must have been hours, almost motionless. Now there wasn’t even breath passing through them. It wasn’t until someone else came back into the room that everything became clear to me. It was a different member of the sculpting team from before. She made a strong attempt to look in control, but it was clear she was afraid. There was a host of other researchers and workers gazing in through a window. She started investigating the situation with a naturally cold tone.

“I am Shorah. I worked on the design of your bodies and the tools to amplify your latent abilities. Your gifts have been been empowered, at larger factors than we had assumed. I am here to apologise for anything you deem a cost for this. Sincerely. It was not a part of our calculations when we started our noble work on Gisela, that she might end up like this.”

She pauses to redouble her conviction. She inhales. 

“Will you still work with us toward mastering this new skill you have learned? We want to offer an exchange of subjects and teachers. We want nothing more than to learn of you, Triplets.”

Bruna and Sigarda both rose up to their feet, stepping toward her. Gisela rose up, gaze vacant, and slowly turned around. There was a chill in the air this time as Shorah slowly lost her conviction. She had been expecting this. Gisela grew more attentive, flourishing with the knowledge she was pulling forth as her fellow triplets caught Shorah falling to the ground.

“Excellent”

The voice came from both Shorah and Gisela. This was when I realised what they could do. This was when Sen learned to listen to mutes. Shorah began to incant something and the doors opened up, All the motions and words being replicated by Gisela. 

“Come collect us. We hear her again.”

They spoke again together once more and analysts flooded the room to do just that. We left the ward together and Shorah began to find her feet again. Gisela lost her mental grip on Shorah and returned to walking with her sisters as a vacant vessel. 

This was the last time I was allowed to see the three girls. I had heard that they were pulled to the heart of Esper, so they could get brought before Sharuum herself. When they left Sen, the names they were given here were abandoned. They went back to working as one mind with Bruna and Sigarda acting as emissaries for Gisela like it was when they arrived with us. I hear they are doing well. I wish I could see them again. The wonderful Sen Triplets.“

-- Memoirs of Thalia. Specifically appointed serving attendant homunculous of Sen

[rednekra]

In which I discuss my mental health

So I wanted to sit and write a blog for the first time in a long time, since it’s not really something I feel like doing much. I tend to only really write when I have more time, or feel the need to open up. This won’t be edited to read easier but if you chose to read it then thank you, and sorry I’m a pretty bad author! As a bit of an introvert, I find “Me and Myself” a hard subject to talk about since I try to keep it a personal matter. It’s why I don’t talk so open about all the little things in my life. I don’t think personal details are that worth sharing (which as an aside is why I find Instagram a wonder. People so willing to expose everything about themselves!) Recently I’ve been feeling something crawl up on me that I’ve never really had before, and it’s a lack of confidence. A fear of what I’m actually capable of, and wither or not it’s enough, and it all stems from life going well. I’m not sure if that’s weird or not. My life situation as I see it is that I’m happily in love and working towards my future with her, my job is pushing me forward with trusted positions, my pathway seems pretty clear of obstruction. All I need to do is push forward. The way that my head has decided to look at this though is that I’m on the troped shaky rope bridge over the lava pool on my way to the villains lair. Sure, there’s nothing in the way forward but there’s a lot of external factors that could take it all away... At least in my head, anyway. It’s sort of hard to write this and not feel a bit stupid, if I’m honest, so thanks if you’ve chosen to read as far. I realise a lot of the things I’m writing about are a fabrication but I can’t help but think it’s all possible and that’s my issue. I guess it doesn’t help that I can’t quite formulate how to say what I want to say as a result of feeling a bit stupid. The world as I see it is that I might not succeed because of different reasons. I’m terrified of the ramifications of that failure. What if the trust my work has put in me turns out to be misplaced? What if I do something unknowingly that leaves my partner at bigger risk? Will I end up losing her? Will I end up with no job? Could I cope knowing I can’t move further in my line of work because my ability just doesn’t match up? What would I do then? Will my partner have to leave if we can’t support ourselves as a result? Will everything crumble? Above is an excerpt of how certain internal discussions go in my head. I know the answers to most of those questions, but a doubt poisons me. I can’t help but feel there’s a chance occurrence I need to have prepared for. It leaves me tired and anxious at times. I take bouts of pure paranoia and struggle to keep up my smile. Anxiety is a new demon to me, because I’ve always had a pretty solid faith in my ability to overcome anything I’m tasked. Now however it feels like, for the first time, that I might not pass with such an ease. The only thing I’ve really learned about it is that it tends to be able to sustain itself from itself. When I take a mood swing from anxiety I become a little more quiet as I try to work out a series of questions in my head. If I become aware I’m a bit quiet then I begin to force myself to be a little louder, and act more “Me”... Or at least how I think people perceive me. This draws attention to differences in how I actually act and how I’m acting now, which in turn I become more aware of. I try to remedy and alter my way of acting to be more “me” all the time still working out whatever doubts or anxieties have taken a grip of me. It’s exhausting. I want to say sorry again to whoever has read as far, I’m aware the writing is a mess. I just don’t know how to properly formulate how I’m feeling. The more I write the more I become a little more aware it’s a mess, and I can’t help but feel to write something like this is just pure narcissism. I mean, why would I think people want to read X words on how I’m having a bit of a mental trouble? I’ve “Select-All ; Delete ; Undo’d” this whole thing like twice on my way to this point. I will literally be surprised if more than 5 people actually read this. If you did then thank you. Leave a comment on the post that brought you here and let me know what you think, or if you know a trick to beat the cycle. Anyway, I digress. So yeah, I’m anxious now. Even as I write this I end up thinking that I should just be able to fight through it like I see everyone else doing. Why is it me that’s finding the same life harder than everyone around me? I’m not sure I just buy into the whole “chemical make-up” idea where some people are just prone to these bouts of mood swings. It seems like a decent theory but surely it would still be a more prevalent thing in society? Maybe I’m just ignorant to it as a larger problem. Maybe other people just hide it better. I dunno.

So that’s where I’m at. I’m taking mood swings like when I was hitting bad depression spots (which is a huge warning sign to me, one which makes me feel like I’m half way over the rope bridge as the rope starts to unwrap), and I’m dealing with a new variant of psychological beast. In between I feel like I’ve always done. Swolen with pride for my fiancée, happy with my games and enjoying keeping what contact I can with my friends. One last thanks to those who read to the end. You did it. Gold star! Oh, and thanks to some people at work. You maybe don’t realise how close you might have got to not reading this without your input. Thank you the most. Maybe I’ll write an update, and maybe I’ll get hit by lightning. We’ll find out I guess. Iain “Nekra” Christie

[rednekra]

In which I fight against my addictions.

I've picked up playing League of Legends again more often, and I'm just kicking myself for doing it. It's a game I've been a part of for a very long time, and I loved the game to begin with. I left because of an increasing volume of just horrible people that play it. I got myself really worked up trying to force myself into games of something I loved, which eventually just hurt me to play. As an example the match that made me give up on the game was when my team mates lost their lane, and went on to just feed gold relentlessly to the enemy team, and then pour wards onto the map in the shape of a massive swastika. Yeah that one, not the religious one.  I just couldn't deal with it the constant hate, bile and toxic behaviour that had became totally commonplace in something that had taken a large part of me, both physically and mentally. It felt very akin to a love falling to a sickness you can't cure. I watched this tragedy grow and grow in the heart of this love of mine. I watched the charming glisten of it's eyes fade to a pale puce as it was kept alive on Puppet Strings by people who lost the ideals of what they wanted to make and turned to making money instead. I couldn't do anything about it, and my love died when I pulled life support from it.  It hurt me to do it, but the pain was just cauterisation. My friends and love that I played with will vouch that my bi-polar depression was pretty wild flaring without that focus to get better at something. I really had to leave it though.  That was about six months ago now, and now I find myself back in touch with it. It looks a little better now. It's act has cleaned up just a little and it's not as sick as it was. A game or two showed me it's charm when I was playing practice modes. Going back to some real games though has shown me some scars that will never heal I think, some scars that make me feel an empathic pain. It's leaving me feeling a little conflicted. I want it to be the way it was but it's taken it's influences from all of it's new friends. I see the track marks up it's arms. I know what it's been up to. It tells me it's been working on getting better, but I don't think it's been taking it's meds. I really want to play something like this, that makes me feel like how I used to. Something that drew me in and connected me to a character. I'll never give up on you Lightning Bear!  Blerg. I don't know what to do.  TLDR : I write a lot of unclear and messy emotion when I get sparked. I miss LoL. I don't miss being called "easy fgt noo gg 4 u" by 13 year olds going on a moniker they think is super cool and edgy. Like last game's SharowRound. or the recent Dante21Voices... Or " |||Ph03niXx||| "