Sunday, July 31, 2011

Horcrux Selection

Earlier this week Kate blogged about what her horcruxes would be, assuming that she were a homicidal wizard bent on immortality.

And I thought I would do the same. But in order to best help you understand my choice of Horcrux selections, you need to understand that if I were a dark wizard bent on immortality, I wouldn't use blood or muggles as a rallying cry. I'd just be evil. And as a muggle and lover of technology, that would need to be part of my wizard self too, a dark wizard knowledgeable about muggle technology.

So, here is my choice selection:
1. A network server. Well, to further elaborate it would be a host of network servers that link to each other with a hard line, wirelessly, or satellite signal. Basically it'd be designed so that the horcrux magic of it isn't just in one location, but depending on the danger can transfer itself to different parts of the network. Plus the added bonus of corrupting google bots and people's computers. Given enough time, it may just infiltrate the whole internet.

2. A telescope\satellite. It doesn't matter which one, just one in Space. How many wizard are capable of going into Outer Space anyways? My point precisely. No wizard could destroy it. Plus, I'd have the added bonus of being able to spy on my enemies from space.

3. A Lord of the Rings book. Nothing more to be said, just a huge fan of it.

4. A top hat. And not just any top hat, but a vintage top hat from the 18th century. Because top hats are just awesome. And it'd be able to give the Sorting Hat a run for its money.

5. So there isn't an appropriate image for this, but as I like programming, I'd place my fifth horcux inside a programming language library. If I choose Java for example, I'd infiltrate Oracle and place my horcrux in the download location for the language libraries in the code itself. Yes, it sounds complicated, but I am a wizard, if Voldemort can learn to fly then surely I can enchant some muggle programming to hold a horcrux. Which changes bits of the programming library to suit its needs and help grant me control over the muggle world.

6. I am also interested in Fencing, so thus a rapier or some other fencing weapon would only be appropriate. Course, the weapon may turn on you if it doesn't like you, but that is a risk to try and use a fencing sword.

7. Last is something different. You know how there are magical portraits of wizards who hold the memories and personality of whom they were painted? I'd do the same. I get my magical portrait taken, but with multiple frames (like how Phineas Nigellus Black can go from his portrait in Hogwarts to the one in the Black family home). I'd kill the artist and imbue my portrait self with the horcrux. Not the actual frame or portrait itself, but the image of me. That can change locations.

So yeah. If you want to kill my evil wizard self off permanently, you have a lot of work in store for you. Not that I would stick to 7, that's more Voldemort's thing. I may choose to have more or may have less. But if I were to pick 7, these would be it.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

The Shattering of a Fantasy

A man walked in the desert. He believed himself to be clear minded, only just a little bit thirsty. He knew not how long he walked, but he soon viewed an oasis pure and clean. He ran to it and was happy; for he would not die of thirst.

There he spent his time for many a moon, growing fat off the fruit of the trees of the oasis, healthy and strong. Until he unfortunately had to leave.

He walked and looked back and thought of returning, knowing full well he couldn't as returning to the oasis would be a stagnation in life, no longer progressing how he knew he should.

And so he continued walking until off in the distance he saw signs of civilizations. Which is when he tripped, fell, and went unconscious. When he awoke he found himself truly awake and saw that instead of healthy and fat off the fruit of the oasis, he was skinny and sickly, weak and with thirst.

The man wondered what had happened, and saw his body, full of needles, cuts and bruises. And then he remembered, the illusion shattered. He saw through what had been his madness, seeing that instead of a fruitful oasis he had instead visited a wild growth of cactus, and in his madness did what he could to drink the juices and eat what he could of the edible part of the plant inside.

He saw that the fantasy was shattered, the memories of the place tainted, and his experiences unreliable. He knew he had strength to reach civilization, but was still saddened by the false promises of the cacti.

And so he walked, hoping to be rid of his memory of the place, of what he thought was a small paradise. And instead only seeing the needles and places where he injured himself trying to survive.

And though pulling the needles out one by one, he could never escape the cacti; he could not but harbor on that memory, the loss of the illusion and the loss of the naivety.

He could only run and hope that soon he would be free of such memories.