The Draconic Wizard Workshop

Welcome! We are the Draconic Wizard Workshop, an alterhuman system of over 40 members. Here, you can find our collective writings and introductions.

I'm too fucking crazy to tick

tick tick the way everyone else does,

timer ticking down, next explosion, fire away

Round that corner into gunfire, right off, cultist cries

Infuscomus, you can't stop me

Fire, reload, fire, reload

I can taste blood but blood can't taste me (too dead for it)

Do I even have any? Haven't checked my veins

dug out of my grave and started shooting, starting running

dark god on my heels but I'm hunting him in turn—

you don't betray your followers and live to tell the tale.

Next idiot, hide around the corner

Too many bullets, too much adrenaline (him, not me)

it skids into sight, lit, hiss,

D

Y

N

A

M

I

T

E

Well that's not good.

It's that frantic push and pull

violence against violence, evil against evil

Cultists of the same god, one betrayed, one not

I don't know what "good" means and I don't care

Just me and the shotgun and the dynamite on the open road.

It all tastes like blood, not regret

(don't know what that tastes like; heard it called bitter but all that bitterness is grief

Ophelia)

maybe I was born for this all along

Told I'd never amount to anything—(dirty psychopath)

LOOK AT ME NOW

AH

HA

HA

Running from explosions is no way to live but I'm not alive

Undead (what kind) in the moonlight, won't put me back in my grave without a fight

You're all already dead, you just don't know it yet

yet.

now.

Nothing to shoot. Nothing to explode. In my head with sixty other assholes

put together better, know what they're going to do—

purpose beyond broken loyalty and bodies on the floor.

No blood.

Nowhere to go.

Just hallucinations late at night with the wrong headmate (banned from being near each other,

my favorite, just my luck)

and scattered thoughts with no reception

(what's that mean, Medivh asks me, and I don't know)

and uncertainty in this shared clown car full of wizards and dragons and undead with spanners

(Bullshit)

Blood once soaked the boards under my feet

and blood is wet

and wet is rot

rotted away and here I am, fell through

into a second chance I don't know if I want.

No trigger under my finger, no lighter, no pitchfork

no blood.

Just something bitter

but I don't know what it is.