Temur woke up and instinctively reached for his sword, then stopped himself. The war was over, Temur worried the nightmares wouldn’t ever be. Temur thought for a moment, they called him a hero, he wondered if that was true. All he did was fire the last arrow, it was General Odysseus’s order to charge, it was Gerard who sacrificed himself with that gunpowder barrel to weaken it, it was Icin who- he caught himself. He could spend all day falling down his rabbit hole of thoughts, right now the crops needed tending.

Temur got dressed and ready himself and left his cabin to overlook the fields. Next to Temur’s Cabin was Ressi’s house, much bigger and extravagant made of birch logs, it was still nowhere near a mansion, and neither of them were the types to want one anyways.

Temur spent most of the day working on the crops and thinking, about himself, about the war, about the people he lost, but he snapped out of it, moved his thoughts to his children, to his grandchildren. Then it struck him. Something between a vision and a memory. The Obsidian heart. A head sized object looked chisled of a crystal so black it was nearly reflective. The anatomy of it was to the point, an accurate heart, details so fine you could get lost in it. Temur took it is a war trophy, he was the one who slew Endoj and so the heart was his, that’s what the troops agreed upon at least.

Temur thought back to giving it to his grandson, Micah, and nearly regretted it. Micah was such a young boy, only 20 something, a prodigy in the arcane arts. Temur felt something off, something was deeply wrong with the Obsidian heart, he knew this, always fear something would happen. How could he have possibly thought it was a good idea to bestow it upon a child! Temur rushed to Ressi’s house and knocked.

Ressi answered, a tall woman with dark skin and dreaded hair, her feathery wings dyed pink flowing out behind her. It’s clear from the stains on her hands that she had been painting, she looked annoyed but quickly put on a smile, “yes?”

Temur looked stalwart and calm, “I’m leaving for a while, I need to visit Micah.”

“Now?” Ressi asked, “in the middle of harvest se-“

“Yes.” Temur insisted, “this is important. I promise.”

“Alright” Ressi Relented “stay safe and…be back by fall.”

Temur chuckled and managed out a joke “aww, you do still love me”

Ressi giggled a genuine laugh, and retorted “nah, I divorced your ass for a reason”

Derelo was proud of themself, a hulking construct of steel and magic their existence was impressive. Of course it’s not easy, Derelo’w joints had long since grown creaky, and the rust was visibly creeping from between their plates. But With the death of their creator nearly 30 years ago now there was no one left who knew how they worked. Of course people have asked to open Derelo up, and they’ve almost considered it, but ultimately they refused. Derelo’s creator was a genius, but an anti-social one whose sciences and artistry would be madness to anyone else, and regardless the only people who’ve ever asked to look inside Derelo were the greedy and idiotic, those who saw Derelo not as a person, but as a profit incentive.

Derelo was happy though, even if they died slowly. They had helped killed endroj, defeated the army of shadows. Here in the sprawling metropolis of ironheed people walked freely, no long fearing the shadows, mothers no longer wept because their children ran too far into the forest, watching one’s back was no longer a necessity to live and the night was humanity’s to claim.

Derelo shook themself out of their thoughts, fidgeting with their necklace, small twine wrapped around what May at first seem like a large purple marble shaped to look like an eye, but was actually Derelo’s prize for helping defeat Endroj, despite the beasts size its thousand eyes were about the size you’d expect from a person.

Derelo put their hand on the door, prepared to enter the library, they had agreed to do a reading for some children. oh how Derelo loved children, the kind naivety that reminds Derelo so much of themselves when they were first made. Derelo’s first few years of exsistence were horrifying and surprising, and to give some young people the chance to enjoy that time is something Derelo relished. They opened the door and found a bloodbath.

Children’s corpses strewn about the small library coated the floor in a crimson haze, the wounds looked visceral and violent, bodies rent asunder. The adults clearly didn’t fair much better. Derelo flicked their wrist and it slowly shifted into a razor sharp blade with a creak. Derelo went to shift their other arm into a shield when it slammed into them. Derelo didn’t lose balance, and pushed it off to get a good look.

It was Fellis. A sister in arms in the forward front, her and Derelo had fought alongside one another, had defeated Endroj together, even if Temur had stolen the last shot. It became clear she was not the same, her grey fur matted and clumped with blood and mud, her feline ears twitching eratically and her tail swaying and twitching in odd patterns. Fellis gripped her katana with a savagery unbefitting the well trained swordsman. But most notably was her eyes: her right eye was a dark, pulsing purple, and she had a second pair of similarly off putting eyes above her brow.

Derelo had many questions, and no time to answer them, Fellis struck with speed and strength that Derelo was barely able to match. They exchanged blows, blade clashing with blade before Fellis let out a low growl and a simple demand, “give me the eye.”

Derelo wasn’t stupid, they knew she wanted the eye around their neck, they considered it, whatever has happened to Fellis has made her a monster, and a monster Derelo can’t match, it’s clear she’s killed before and is happy to kill again. Logically Derelo could give up the eye and live to fight another day. But Derelo had never been logical, and knew something very wrong was going on here. And so they prepared themself and repeated a battle cry they have long lived by.

“I SHALL FEEL NO FEAR! YEILD NO GROUND! STAND BEFORE ME AND FACE CASTIGATION!”

Fellis took this as her cue to strike, lunging forward, Derelo caught it with their blade and followed for her shoulder, she ducked to the left, just what Derelo was counting on. Derelo swing with their fist at her wrist and grabbed it, using their weight and mechanical might to bend her arm back and snap it. Derelo had expected a scream, a flinch, any reaction. Instead, Fellis plunged her blade into Derelo’s chest, through the plates, rending wire and gear. Derelo creaked and threw Fellis by the wrist still held into a bookshelf as they stumbled. Derelo fell back against a wall, leaking oil profusely, they thought desperately but did not know what to do.

Derelo looked up from their wound to see Fellis lurching over, arm hanging limply at her side. This was not a fight Derelo could win, but Derelo could take what she wanted. Derelo quickly grabbed their necklace, grabbed the eye. Derelo began to close their fist, but Ferris lunged forward and with one sudden slash, cut deep into Derelo’s neck, and they went limp.

Yuser looked upon the road ahead, wooden club in hand. A figure was approaching up along the wooded trail, along their trail.

“Eh, looks like some money to make” Derrin said, an imposing and everything considered tall dwarf at 5 foot, tough as a rock and just as smart, Yuser kept him around for just that reason.

“Quiet down” Yuser cursed, annoyed, he fiddled with the sword at his side, “we’ll start with just pickpocketin’ it’s easier that way.”

Chuck nodded, a lengthy and awkward man in brown robes, he didn’t talk much, he barely had the stomach for this kind of work. Rotten work it was, but there was so much evil in the world, what’s a little more?

The man came closer, a tall figure on horseback whose legs ended not in feet but in a raptor’s talons, and a simialr makeup for his hands. The man wore a green cloak with a pattern of white triangles along it, broken only by his black wings tucked behind him and has a bow and quiver slung over his back. He brought his horse to a stop maybe 10 feet away and hopped off.

“Hello…is there uh, a reason why you’re blocking this path?” He spoke with an awkward demeanor to him, but there was a look in his emerald eyes, one of determination and forlorn.

“Ahem, yes.” Yuser spoke up, putting on his best posh accent, all he had to do was buy time while Chuck snuck around, “yes we’re just part of a local militia, keeping watch of the path.”

Derrin chimed it, “that cloak, you’re Temur ain’t ya?!” There was excitement in his voice, and a tinge of fear.

Temur chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head, “yeah…guess I’m uh…pretty recognizable, with the cloak and all.”

“Man, I’ve heard so many damned things about you, heard you’re a real sharpshooter, that right?” Derrin asked, Yuser was a bit disgruntled with his plan being superseded, but as long as Temur was kept distracted he supposes it doesn’t matter.

“Heh, yeah that’s what they call me, I’m really not all that spe-“ Temur didn’t get to finish his sentence before Derrin interrupted once more.

“Heard you met with some of the gods themselves!”

“Yeahhh, got all sorts of boons and blessings, I haven’t aged a day eheh, it’s nice, but again it really feels undeserved, all I did w-“ Temur stopped and his neck jolted to stare at the man in brown robes behind him, quietly reaching into the bags on Temur’s horse.

Yuser wasn’t worried, Temur looked like a kind man who would simply forgive them. Looks can be deceiving. Within a blink Temur was on Chuck and dug his thumb into the base of his skull. If there was a struggle it wasn’t apparent from the few yards apart they were.

Derrin charged, raising his axe, an arrow met his throat halfway, but that wasn’t Enough to keep someone as stubborn as Derrin down. Derrin swung down on the bird man but he dodged to the left. If the swift kick to the gut that left Darrin’s intestines across the floor didn’t kill him, the quick grabbing of his jaw followed by a yank, tearing it out certainly did.

Then it was just Temur and Yuser. The scariest part, Yuser thought, was the horse. It flinched as Temur moved, it was certainly an animal, but it didn’t run, it didn’t flee, it was used to this.

It’s Thursday. Complaining about death threats on the internet is like complaining about getting splashed by water while canoeing.

“Don’t (Song 121)” is out now. I’m replacing it with a better version (improved structure) in a couple days, but the current version is still pretty cool.

#NeverOver is a 3+ minute song without a chorus. Wanted to make a song that didn’t repeat any lyrics.

This song is inspired by bumping into an ex at a funeral. That said, the lyrics are 99% fiction.

“Never Over” was the first time that I tried developing instrument tracks AFTER recording/mixing the vocals for a GoBoy song. I occasionally dabbled in that production style between songs 51 - 96, after which it became a mainstay starting with “Lucy (Song 97).” Now every GoBoy song is produced that way.

Throughout GoBoy 3 and 4, a lesson was relearned after a seven-year hiatus: listeners can sense any hesitancy in your voice. Confidence is important in a recording booth. This rediscovery would lead me to experiment with drinking while recording GoBoy 6. What results would liquid courage bring? Just an experiment. The production quality in this song is kinda meh. My vocals do not have enough strength. I should have belted out the vocals, similar to the singing style of GoBoy 6 and 7 (excerpts from post 50).

Happy Saturday. I’ve had Game of Thrones playing in the background for a few days, and it’s making me crave wine. Similarly to how Lord of the Rings makes me want to smoke from a long wooden pipe, or Breaking Bad makes me want to put a cigarette in my mouth. Tyrion, Gandalf and Jesse Pinkman make it look so fun. Such bad influences.

3+ minute song without a chorus. Wanted to make a song that didn’t repeat any lyrics.

This song is inspired by bumping into an ex at an event. That said, the lyrics are 99% fiction.

This is the first time the instrument tracks were developed AFTER recording/mixing the vocals for a GoBoy song. Nowadays, every GoBoy song is produced that way. That production style became a mainstay starting with “Lucy (Song 97).”

Throughout GoBoy 3 and 4, a lesson was relearned after a seven-year hiatus: listeners can sense any hesitancy in your voice (this paragraph contains excerpts from post 50, which apply to this song). Confidence is important in a recording booth. This rediscovery would lead me to experiment with drinking while recording GoBoy 6. What results would liquid courage bring? Just an experiment. The production quality in this song is kinda meh. My vocals do not have enough strength. I should have belted out the vocals, similar to the singing style of GoBoy 6.