Word: Adrenalize

adrenalize

[uh-dreen-l-ahyz]

---

verb (used with object), ad·re·nal·ized, ad·re·nal·iz·ing.

to stir to action; excite: The promise of victory adrenalized the team.

************************************

               Hecin sat up suddenly, ignoring the grass that had clung to his rough shirt.  His eyes were open wide and a big smile was on his face.  He looked to the other four members of his social circle.  They were all ignoring him, and remained doing what they had been.  That stopped when Hecin spoke up.

               “You know what we should do?  We should become adventurers.”

               The others looked at each other and resumed their activities without a word.  They had long since learned to ignore such fanciful words from their friend.  When he got no response, Hecin continued.

               “I mean it, we should.  I mean, think about it.  The five of us would be an amazing party.”

               The largest member of the group, Baltist, replied.  “No we wouldn’t.  None of us have fought before, or even trained for fighting.  Hell, none of us have even held a weapon.  We’d be slaughtered on our first fight.”

               “True, but that’s only for now.  We can get experience in the field.  Besides, we’re practically build for a party.  You, for example, would make a splendid warrior.  Linnia has good eyes and steady hands.  She’s practically built for an archer.”

               The girl in question looked up at the mention of her name.  “No, I’m not.”  She said.  “I’d be a terrible archer.  I’d never be able to draw anything bigger than a short bow.”

               “You’ll just have to train then.” Hecin said, undeterred.  “Klyn is small, quiet, and smart.  He’d make for a fine rouge.”

               The small, thin boy looked almost ashamed that he had been picked for that roll.  “I don’t want to steal anything.” He said simply.

               “Not that kind of rouge, sure.  I mean the kind that sneaks around dungeons to find the monster and disarms traps and stuff.”

               “I might be able to do that?” Klyn admitted reluctantly.

               “And the best of all, Bellis would be our mage.”  Hecin patted the girl on the shoulder.

               “I’m not a mage.” She said.  “I barely know any magic at all.  Just, like, cleaning spells and stuff.”

               “More than most people can do.  Did you know only a handful of adventuring parties have a mage, or anyone who can use magic?  We’d be ahead of curve with that alone.  Besides, I’m sure you’ll learn lots of spells on the road.”

               The girl sighed.

               “I notice you haven’t mentioned yourself yet.” Baltist said.  “What role would you be filling, pray tell?  I know you wouldn’t be a healer.”

               “Of course not.  I’m not nearly pious or patient enough to be a healer.  No, I’m steady on my feet and have the best balance.  I’m a spearman.”  He said proudly.  “We have everything a good party needs.  A strong, tough man on the front, a mage and archer in the back—”

               “I told you I can’t be an archer.” Linnia insisted.  Hecin continued as if she had not spoken.

               “A scout making sure we don’t fight more than we can handle, and someone to attack from behind our warrior.  Plus, mages make everything so much better, no matter what spells they use.”

               The rest grumbled.  With the exception of a healer, it was a decent party makeup.  Still, it was difficult to get behind his words when none of them had any idea of how to go about doing said jobs.

               “Oh come now, think about it.” Hecin said.  “Traveling the world.  Vanquishing great beasts.  Finding long lost treasures.  Fame and fortune.” He said, moving his arms energetically and dramatically.  “Songs would be sung about us.  Ladies…and Gentlemen…would want to be with us.”

               “R-really?  We’d be popular?” Klyn said.  The small boy had trouble catching the eyes of the fair sex, and his mind was already racing with Hecin’s proclamation.

               “Don’t listen to him.” Linnia said.  “Women won’t fall for you just because you’re an adventurer.”

               “Oh really?” Hecin said.  “What would you do if a famous adventurer came up to you right now and asked for your hand?”

               Linnia stuttered and muttered.  Bellis’s eyes seemed distant and a distinct pink color came to her cheeks as she thought.  A color that was soon worn by both girls.

               “Point taken.” Linnia muttered. 

               “See?  We can be famous.  Known the world over for our deeds.  And fortune like we can’t even dream of.  Magic items, piles of gold and gems.  We can have it all.”

               The others thought about it for nearly a minute.

               “Maybe we can start small.”  Bellis said.  “A few gathering quests, maybe hunt some slimes or insect monsters.”

               “A-And use the funds to hire trainers and such.” Baltist said, scratching the side of his face.  “You know, learn how to fight properly before going up against anything really dangerous.”

               “That’s the spirit!” Hecin cheered.  “We’ll take a few days to gather supplies, and then head out to the nearest city!  My friends, fame and fortune await!”

               They collectively let out a great cheer at the boy’s words.  Each had their head filled with fame, fortune and power.  They each quickly quieted the tiny bits of doubt still lingering in their minds, and continued to dream.

*******************************************

 Not sure if I should continue this or not.  I used to try continuous stories in the early days of the blog, but I haven't done that recently.  Maybe I should try and pick it back up?  Depends on the words I get, I suppose.

Word: Perfunctory

perfunctory

[per-fuhngk-tuh-ree]

---

adjective

performed merely as a routine duty; hasty and superficial: perfunctory courtesy.

 

lacking interest, care, or enthusiasm; indifferent or apathetic: In his lectures he reveals himself to be merely a perfunctory speaker.

*********************************

               The man wakes up the sound of his alarm.  He groans and shuts it off.  Sometimes he wishes he could do more.  Take a bat to bed with him so he could smash the damn thing, but he never does.  He has had the clock for too long, and he would never be able to wake up without it.  He forces himself out of bed, just as he does every morning, and readies himself for the day.

               A quick breakfast of oatmeal with a dash of honey, and a cup of coffee.  He does not enjoy either.  The oatmeal is of the cheap, instant variety and is tasteless and lumpy.  The honey makes it barely tolerable.  He eats it because that is what the health experts say he should eat, and his slowly expanding waistline makes him more open to such suggestions.  The coffee is dark and bitter.  He does not like the taste of it, but he drinks it simply because it helps him get moving.  If he was allowed to use sugar, he would put a large amount of it in, but again, the health experts.  And since he finds the idea of milk oddly unsettling, he uses neither that nor cream to cut the bitterness.  They have become as much a part of his routine as waking up, no matter how much he dislikes any of it.

               He begins his drive to work.  It is familiar.  So much so that he could close his eyes and still make it.  Sometimes, he is tempted to do that, just to see what happens.  He never does though.  Besides, other cars on the road made it so he had to pay at least some attention to his actions.  He stops at the light that always seems to be red when he gets to it.

               He uses the time to look at the shop.  The shop on the corner.  The shop with the faded sign and barred windows.  He feels his grip on the steering wheel tighten.  He wants to go in.  To see what that store has, and maybe even buy something.  But he never does.  That would not be part of his daily routine.  And he had learned to stick to that like a priest to his holy book.  It might have been maddening, but it was safe and familiar.  He knew what was expected of him, and he never did anything else, even if he wanted to.  Besides, what would people who knew him think if they saw him entering a store like that?  Nothing good.

               He gets to work and sits at his desk.  He turns on his computer and starts.  Everything is set up for him.  All he has to do is open the programs and start typing the right things.  It is not interesting, and it can be frustrating at times, but he does not mind.  Mostly, anyway.  He lets his mind wander as his fingers move over the keyboard.  He thinks of things he could be doing.  Things he might even like to do.  He never will, but he can think about them. 

               He risks a glance at his coworkers.  They look at him and whisper.  They never talk to him, but he does not mind.  Most of them are younger than him, and there would be nothing to talk about.  Most of them don’t seem to like him for some reason anyway.  Best to stay in his own area and leave them be.  There is only one person that he cannot avoid.  His boss, who comes over to him and disrupts the man’s routine by having him come to the boss’ office.

               Soon, the man is back at his desk.  He stares at the screen.  His routine has been disturbed.  He needs to get back into it.  A pay cut will not be terribly detrimental to him.  He spends so little, after all.  Still, he feels his chest tighten and he has to coax his fingers into working again.  He manages to finish the day and heads home.

               As he stops at the light and looks at the store on the corner, his mind begins to churn.  His routine has already been disturbed, so why not add something else into the mix?  He parks the car.  He sits there for a moment, looking at the bland street and the people walking along.  A wide, toothy grin starts to form, but he stops it before it can properly manifest.  He goes into the store with the barred windows.

*******************************

I'm sure most people can figure out what kind of store that is.  Here's a hint, it's not a grocery store, nor does it sell any food or food-like products.    

Word: Pawky

pawky

[paw-kee]

adjective, pawk·i·er, pawk·i·est. Chiefly British.

1. cunning; sly.

********************************

             “You tricked me, you bastard!” Roared Tess as the handcuffs were clicked into place.

               David simply smiled in that aggravatingly smug, confident way he did when he knew he had the upper hand.  He held up his hand and the agents that stood on either side of Tess stood still. 

               “My dear, I did no such thing.” He said.  “After all, trickery implies falsehood.  I never once lied to you.”

               “Oh yeah, then what do you call this?”

               She moved her head around to indicate what was happening.  All around them, federal agents went through her things, rummaging through her drawers to find any evidence of her wrongdoings.  It was futile, of course.  Tess was smart enough not to have anything incriminating in her home. 

               “This is merely a poor government worker doing his job.  I did mention I worked for the government, didn’t I?”

               “You didn’t mention it was for the FBI.”

               “True, but then again, you never did ask which department I worked for, did you?”

               Tess clamped her mouth shut.  It was an unfortunate oversight on her part.  One she would make sure not to repeat.

               With her remaining silent, David continued.  “Think back to everything I’ve ever said to you.  Really think.  Was any of it a lie?  I mean, an outright lie.  Half-truths and a few omissions, yes, but never a bold-faced lie.”

               She did just that.  “Huh.  Okay, I admit, you’re good.  I never caught any of that.” Tess admitted. 

               “Thank you.” David said with a slight bow.   “Now then, to business.  I’m sure that there isn’t anything of importance here, but we’ll finish our check, just in case.  But you could save quite a bit of time and effort if you simply told us where you stash everything.  Oh, and yes, I know asking won’t do any good, but I have to try.”

               “Well good luck with that.  And I really hope you take your time finding my stuff.”

               “You know we will find it, right?  That’s inevitable.”

               It was Tess’ turn to smirk now.  “Oh sure, sure. Masters of investigation and all that.  I won’t bother saying it’s impossible to find either.  But I sure as hell didn’t make it easy.  And by the time you do find it, you’ll just be left wondering if it was all worth it.”

               “I’m sure it will.  Besides, this will be an excellent time for us to get to know each other better.  Like I said, I never lied to you, even when I said I consider you a friend.  I really do, or maybe did would be more appropriate here, feel that way.  Maybe now we can continue that, without the need for secrecy.”

               Tess huffed.  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, buddy.  You can go rot in a pit for all I care.”

               “Shame.  This could have been so much easier for both of us.”

               David nodded at the escort agents.  They took Tess and led her out of the building and to a waiting prisoner transport.  Tess had to work to suppress her grin.  While the exact methods were not what she envisioned, nor were they ideal, the results were the same.  And at the moment, Tess was exactly where she wanted to be.

               ******************************
Okay, so maybe it's a bit cliched and stuff, but whatever.  Cliches got to be cliches because they have some value, right?  As long as they're used properly they can still make for a good story.  Not sure if I used them right here though.  Oh well.