Behind the Mantle

The Santa Shot

2011-12-18T13:23:00.002-07:00

The season is upon us.

Ugh.

Santa and Krampus are vying for the rights to your children's hearts and minds. He wants. She wants. You want. They want more.

Drunk Kitteh just wants to enjoy the season the best way he knows how, with drinks! Today Drunk Kitteh is sharing one of his favorites with you in order to make it through the pains of the season.

Santa Shot: (floater)
3/4 oz Grenadine (bottom)
3/4 oz Green Crème de Menthe
3/4 oz Peppermint Schnapps (top)

Because this is a floater, pay attention to the order of the liquids. Each has a specific density and sits atop the other to create the layers. Use the bowl of a spoon sitting just above the layer of alcohol to create the layers.

Cheers!

My Take on Today's News

2011-10-05T17:39:00.002-07:00

All right. I know I'm an ass, but COME ON! Yes, it's a sad thing, yes there were tremendous advances because of his being a guiding light, but did you really know him? Personally? Really? Because it sounds like bullshit to me, especially when there are others around the world who weren't a business pirate or evil corporate thug.

I mean no disrespect for those who truly were affected by the passing of Steve Jobs. I can empathize for your loss and pain.

For the others who are cooing his loss without any personal contact whatsoever, please just STFU because you're clogging the stream with your false emotions and skewed sensibilities to try to be the first among your friends and neighbors to mourn the loss of your capitalistic icon.

Bad Day

2011-09-27T18:35:00.002-07:00

Somehow I got it set in my head that to show my emotional side is weak. I don't know why. Because I'm a man, I guess. That's not really an excuse. I've been living with Type 2 Diabetes for almost two years. I've been up and down with the A1C. My next appointment with my Primary is going to be in December and he's going to want a blood test.

I'm pretty sure it will be an epic fail.

I came across a quote from the series "Breaking Bad" that pretty much summed up how I feel. Granted, I don't have Stage 3A lung cancer, but the feelings are pretty much the same.

"...these doctors talking about surviving, one year, two years, like it's the only thing that matters. But what good is it to survive if I'm to sick to work, to enjoy a meal, to make love. For what time I have left, I want to live in my own house, I want to sleep in my own bed. I don't want to choke down 40 or 50 pills every single day..."

One Fan Can Make A Difference

2011-09-14T22:23:00.003-07:00

Post from Nick Nugent:

I'm not part of any blogger websites, so I'm not sure how to share them on there but if anyone wants to share my write up - please do!

[So, I did]

One Fan Can Make A Difference
By: Nick Nugent

On September 26th, 1982 the world was introduced to the most technically advanced supercar in existence and given their first glimpse into the dangerous world of a man who did not exist. That man who began as Michael Arthur Long became “Michael Knight” (played by David Hasselhoff), a lone crusader whose mission began with a quest for revenge but soon evolved into a heroic crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless and bring to justice criminals who operated above the law.

Michael’s reluctant partner was an artificial intelligence known as the Knight Industries Two Thousand or K.I.T.T. for short (voiced by the clever wit of William Daniels) Unlike many buddy-cop dramas of the time, what set Knight Rider apart was that K.I.T.T. was a talking car unlike any other and not afraid to speak his mind. The Knight 2000 which resembled an 82’ Pontiac Trans Am with a mirror polished obsidian finish was protected by a molecular bonded shell which made the car nearly invulnerable and week after week delighted audiences of all ages by crashing through walls, repelling bullets, Micro Jamming electronics, driving on two wheels with “Ski Mode”, and best of all leaping across danger with the simple push of a button marked “Turbo Boost”. From 1982-1986, Knight Rider continued to dazzle the hearts and mind of generations to come and here, nearly 30 years later the spirit of this iconic series still burns bright.

So what made Knight Rider so memorable? Why do so many fans across the globe continue to gravitate toward it today? Some say it was the car, the cast, the charisma of David Hasselhoff, the merchandise, the stunts, or the modern heroics but I would like to think what makes Knight Rider stand out above any technically advanced action show of its kind (what I call the “techno-robotic sleuth” genre which is anything with a gadget driven hi-tech super-vehicle) is the positive message of hope, that one man can make a difference. You can stand up against wrongs and find the strength to continue to make them right.

From the very first time my dad Gary gave me a talking “Kenner K.I.T.T.”, I fell in love with everything Knight Rider stood for. I played with it for hours, glued to every syllable K.I.T.T. spoke with the tug of the tiny KNIGHT license plate on the rear. I cleared away every toy from my shelf to make sure K.I.T.T. (kids just called the car K.I.T.T., we didn’t care about the distinction between an A.I. and a vehicle) was in just the right position for the sunlight to stream in from my bedroom window and gleam off my car like a spotlight.

I would imagine little cross-over missions for Michael and K.I.T.T. to go on, saving G.I. JOE or the Autobots from the evil schemes of Cobra or the Decepticons, Turbo Boosting to the rescue or crashing through barricades and racing through imaginary gunfire.

My first slice of “reality vs. the fantasy of television magic” came in the form of a dispute with a bully. This individual who shall remain nameless sought to prove that KITT was not nearly invulnerable as he was depicted on the small screen. It was also the first time I really understood what being a “geek” meant.

Before I could blink, he snatched my prized talking K.I.T.T. away from me and to prove his point – sent Michael and K.I.T.T. rolling right into the path of an oncoming semi as I watched powerless while my childhood dreams shattered into hundreds of plastic pieces flung across the pavement. My understanding of fantasy and reality became solidified that day and part of my innocence was lost forever.

You must understand this was back in the day before we had ebay. When Toys R’ Us was stocked full of toys that were die cast metal and actually made to last. You couldn’t simply go out to a store and replace K.I.T.T., by the time this happened the toy was discontinued. For a kid like me, it was like losing a friend forever.

As an only child, I was left home alone to fend for myself while my mother worked hard to put food on the table. With no stable father figure in my life, I found my fatherly guidance in Michael Knight. Week after week I would tune into Knight Rider in syndication and learn strong moral values, mixed in with thrilling action and riveting suspense. Knight Rider was a show the entire family could enjoy with creator Glen A. Larson’s unique brand of humor to break up the tension. I may have lost my beloved toy car but I still had K.I.T.T. on television and Michael Knight was my hero.

I didn’t care about the effects or the cheesy nature of the series others like to point out today – as a kid I wanted nothing more than to ride shotgun with Michael and call K.I.T.T. my pal. I wanted to get inside that car that evoked the “WOW!” factor and press all the buttons to see what they did.

Michael and K.I.T.T. would never judge me for who I was or what I enjoyed.

My mother and I moved around a lot so it was hard to make friends but given my geeky nature, it was very easy to make enemies. Bullies lurked around every corner seeking to knock my books out of my hands, demand lunch money, mock my low end clothing, or make fun of me for paying attention in class. I used my imagination wherever I felt the need to express it, be it a public playground, the top of my school desk, or doodling during a boring class lecture to stay awake.

Because I was often lost in my own dream world, I was called a nerd, a geek, a lost cause, a dork who didn’t “get it” because I wasn’t into eyeballing girls or going to parties, sporting events, or earning trophies. I didn’t care about following the latest trends or ditching class. All I cared about was getting on Honor Roll, playing my NES and watching Saturday morning cartoons, A-Team, Knight Rider, Airwolf, Double Dare, Finders Keepers, Legends of the Hidden Temple, and all other manner of geeky television gold that is scarcely found today.

I was told I would amount to nothing in life.

After the golden age of the 80s’ faded away into the 90s’ I shifted my focus towards my love for all things Star Wars. I’ve collected every figure that has been released since 95’ up until Episode II. From the very first time my mother bought me the gigantic (power of the force) Millennium Falcon with flashing lights and sounds for Christmas, Star Wars became my newfound fascination.

Not only did I collect Star Wars but as I grew into adulthood, I soon found myself with a passion for art. I started drawing and designing my own lightsabers, costumes, logos, characters, and stories. For years, I used my evolving talent to explore and collect everything Star Wars had to offer and before everything was said and done – with the popularity of the internet, I had participated in online roleplays with my character “Valaryc” (a Dark Jedi Master), T1 story dueling (never lost a battle), and written 1000 pages of my own unique fan fiction novels and short stories.

I would proudly go out in public displaying my latest Star Wars t-shirts and sweaters. I didn’t care what people thought when they walked into my room and saw figures like wallpaper, scattered across my walls and tons of toys still mint in box stashed away in my closet. I went to conventions and dressed as Valaryc (my own character) whom people mistook for Johnny Depp dressing up as a Sith Lord. (No, I don’t think I’m anywhere near as good looking as Johnny Depp). I even made a Star Wars fan film in college called “Dual Worlds” with what little budget I had at the time. Terrible as it might seem to people today, it was a hell of a lot of work and I did the best I could with what I had to work with and good ol’ After Effects.

But then there was simply no where else in Lucas’s world for me to go. As great as my ideas were, they would always belong to George Lucas. I soon shifted gears to study what made Knight Rider and Star Wars so appealing to me and explored the fundamentals of storytelling. An instructor friend of mine named Nick Kozis introduced me to a book called The Hero’s Journey, written by Christopher Vogel that would forever change how I viewed motion pictures and television today. He challenged me to improve my knowledge of story as well as art.

I then started working on translating my creative ideas from George’s world into my own, called Aiemara which I did for my Senior Thesis – but that is another story for another day.

So where does Knight Rider fit in with all this?

As fate would have it, the very series I grew up watching from afar soon returned to change my life forever. It was by chance encounter that I met James Larson, the son of series creator and Executive Producer Glen. A. Larson. I remember vividly the first time I met Glen at a private screening for “Serenity”. I was intimidated beyond belief by his stage-like regal presence and here I was looking very much like a fanboy geek; right down to my flaming “S” shield Superman t-shirt and longer hippie hair spilling across my shoulders.

I told Glen how much I admired Knight Rider and how much the show meant to me and how it changed my life as a kid growing up. At this time back in 2005, Knight Rider had just come out with Season 1 on dvd but I had collected all the VHS tapes released by Columbia House. Imagine my surprise when Glen asked James to retrieve a box set from his collection. Not only did Glen give me a brand new shiny Season 1 box set that night but he also personally signed it me. (Which is now signed by many more cast/crew)

From that moment on, I was completely immersed in the world of Knight Rider once again. Week after week I would drive up to his home and discuss ideas about the series, motion picture concepts, and upcoming events, and help him in any way I could.

Not long after our relationship began to grow did I come across two fans out there whose passion and knowledge of this series exceeded my own. A previous book, Knight Rider Legacy written by Joe Huth IV and Richie Levine was an outstanding glimpse into how Knight Rider was created, produced, marketed, and enjoyed told by the people who worked on the show. From my first encounter with the book, I enjoyed everything about it except one thing was lacking – color photos.

I greatly adored the story of Knight Rider but for me, I really gravitated towards the visual language of the show – you don’t “read” television, you watch it! I wanted to create a fairly spoiler free guide book that focused only on the original series mythology that included the original cast of the series and excluded the latter spin-offs. A book that provided just as much a visual guide to the series as it did in text. A virtual time machine that would through its various full color, hi-resolution imagery trigger those cherished memories and perhaps spark that childlike sense of wonder once again. It could also be for those fans that had never seen the series and perhaps kindle their interest into tracking episodes down and experiencing something new that can’t be found in today’s modern smorgasbord of reality tv shows and forensic or legal driven dramas. Knight Rider was a trendsetter where as most tv today in my opinion prefer to be trend followers.

After a year’s worth of research, gathering interviews, gaining clearances, layout, custom design, editing, and finally production in late December 2008 - The Knight Rider Companion was born.

After its release, I soon found myself using the proverbial “super pursuit mode” from one Knight Rider inspired project to the next and fulfilling demand for copies of my self published book. Gone was the desire to create more Star Wars art and in was the passion to bring awareness of Michael and K.I.T.T. back to generations today. I found myself not just loving Knight Rider but forever becoming a part of its continued legacy by contributing new original artwork and making it available to fans who wanted it. Chances are if you were to google “Knight Rider”, “KITT”, or “Knight Rider Art”, you would run across my creations without even knowing it. I have also used my talent to raise money for charities such as the Children’s Miracle Network.

With people sending me fan mail from all across the world, I know that the challenges I faced along with my Dad Gary to make my book possible was worth the personal, financial, and emotional obstacles we had to overcome to make a difference. I am not here to convince you to buy my book but if you would like to know more about it, you’re welcome to check it out at the links provided at the end of this write up.

From one design challenge to the next, I have created artwork for modern day Knight Rider events such as Knight Rider Festival I-III, Saugus Car Show, Knights of the West Coast, KIRAD in the UK, and other things. I have attended Knight Rider events such as Knight Rider Festival, Las Vegas Car Stars, Knightcon in the UK, Southern Knights in Atlanta, and made good friends with fans who share my love for television cars such as Star Car Central and Fireball Tim.

As a digital artist, I have created trading card sets, posters, t-shirts, banners, VIP passes, labels, video animations, and other promotional materials. I was recently featured on CBS along with Knights of the West Coast on a show called, “Same Name” which starred David Hasselhoff. I have done probably more things in the span of five years for Knight Rider than one person should be able to accomplish in a lifetime.

I have met practically everyone (including David) who worked on the series and built lasting friendships with cast/crew such as Catherine Hickland (Stevie Mason), Rebecca Holden (April Curtis), Ann Turkel (Adrianne Margeaux), Stu Phillips (Composer), Don Peake (Composer), Michael Scheffe (Original KITT designer), Jack Gill (Stuntman), Ron Martinez (Producer), Tom Greene (Writer/Producer), Tony Wood (TKR), and Glen A. Larson (Creator/Exec Producer). I list them by name so that if you don’t know who they are, you can google them and find out just why they’re such talented and amazing people.

I believe I have solidified myself as a true geek to the core across multiple genres and I’m proud of it. In addition to Knight Rider, I also collect dvds/blu-rays, Star Wars replicas, movie replicas; Tron memorabilia, autographs, and attend shows like San Diego Comic Con, Nuke the Fridge Con, Long Beach Comic Con, Anaheim Comic Con, and other fantastic shows that aren’t afraid to hang out with their geek out. I have a profound interest in movie spoilers, movie poster art (Drew Stuzan), and going to Disneyland. In fact, at one time I was a Cast Member for Disneyland as a Ticket Taker at the Main Gate.

I have a Facebook, twitter, imdb page, personal website, fan website, and all other measure of social networking. I may not get tons of followers but the positive people who do follow my progress and support me through this shadowy flight we call “life” make a true difference. I have done many things but I haven’t always finished them alone.

Without the respect and support of my fans, friends and family, I wouldn’t be where I am today and I strongly believe in giving credit where it is due.

I have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt against those who opposed or mocked me that one fan can make a positive difference.

I say one “fan” and not “man” because a fan is not gender specific. A fan can be anyone of any age, nationality, gender, sexual preference, geek, nerd, dork, or whatever other stereotype out there people can come up with.

A fan is not genre specific – you can love anyone and love anything and that is what makes being a fan so great. You’re free to reach for the stars and capture your dreams; only your fear can stop you.

Today I can say to those people that said I was a geek who would never amount to anything, thank you for challenging me to try harder. Thank you for making me stronger, wiser, and realize what matters in this life – your passion and the will to express it.

For me, what matters is making a positive difference one generous act of kindness at a time. To keep my word when it is given, help those in need, and right wrongs when it is in my power to do so.

I have been called many names from geek, dork, nerd, schoolboy, fanboy, the “knight rider guy”, the “book guy”, The Digital Quick, Dark Jedi Master, Master Valaryc, Victor Kros, that guy who “wants to be famous”, and so on but there is one thing this “geek” will be above all else…

I am a Knight.

-Nick Nugent

http://www.knightridercompanion.com

http://www.valaryc.com

http://www.valaryc.deviantart.com

Twitter - @KRCompanion

Geeky Toes?

2011-09-14T21:20:00.004-07:00

Guest Post from Jennifer:

Manicures and pedicures are my weakness!

I have never done anything more relaxing, well except for maybe being on the beach. For me the foot rubs are the best part, next to picking new colors for my toes (depending on the season, duh)!

If I could get a mani/pedi every couple weeks, I would. Unfortunately it's an expensive habit!

IMNSHO, I think everyone should go get a mani/pedi, even guys! Guys don't have to get a polish, but getting a clip and a buff makes your feet feel like a baby's butt! And did I mention the foot rubs?!

I love going by myself, just to get pampered and put my head back in relaxation. It's almost as if the bubbles wash my worries away! I also love going with my mom and friends just to have girl time.

It's so nice to be able to take care of myself, mani/pedi's are such a treat!

As it happens, Jennifer is my Daughter-in-Law and she's not the only one who seems to take advantage of this perfectly acceptable geeky passion for pigments on piggies. The above are my wife's freshly manicured toes.

She even had me go with her once. I'm not going to say, 'made me go,' because that wasn't the case. It was an interesting experience and apparently the technician reassured me that many men also go to get pedicures.

It didn't really matter if other husbands went with their wives, I went with her because she wanted to treat me and she didn't want go by herself. The foot soaking didn't bother my feet in the least. Normally when dunking my feet into hot water, the neuropathy from the Diabetes kicks in and makes it feel like razor blades are scraping my skin. This wasn't the case. It was quite relaxing.

To reiterate what Jennifer spoke about, it is easy to get lost while the technician is working on your feet. The closest thing I can equate it to is when you've found a really good barber who doesn't need to ask you questions. They move your head this way and that. Tilt it when they need to and do a superb job without interaction. They're just taking care of you.

So, yeah... geeky toes. It's pretty neat.

For all my Tweeps!

2011-09-14T18:11:00.002-07:00

Sometimes I have to wonder about things.

I know why I'm following many of you guys on Twitter. Some are specific reasons like, "I've met you in real life." Some are because we like the same things like table-top RPG's or writing fiction. Some are just because you're heroes and just having you on my feed brings about nostalgia and makes me feel somehow more important.

So, for those of you brave enough to answer, Why are you following me?

I look forward to your response.

It's Growing On Me...

2011-09-13T21:25:00.004-07:00

My latest obsession is of the green geek variety.

About a month and a half ago, I planted seeds. It was just a harebrained idea and as a born and bred city boy, I had never actually grown my own plants. I built the bed and broke the bricks to supply the plants some drainage. I also dug out the bed, put in the pavers and knocked them into place with a rubber mallet.

All of this was in 100° heat or more. August in southern Arizona may not have been the ideal time to get the gardening bug up my ass!

The two random packets were from the Livingston Seed Co. Apparently they’ve been in business since 1850. For a little over $3.00, I had found a way to get myself out of the cyclic stupor and actually do something. It wasn’t easy work, but it was rewarding.

First in my hand was a classic orange pumpkin, a “Small Sweet Sugar Pie” pumpkin. The packet reads:

“Small Sweet Sugar Pie is the standard for baking pumpkin types. Average weight is 5 to 7 pounds. Plant 3 or 4 seeds per hill.”

I just need to say that the 3 or 4 seeds bit, is dependent on the size of your hill. Believe me!

Second was a funky pumpkin package. Livingston calls is a “Jaradale” (the Internet spells it Jarrahdale. Either way, the blue-grey rind of the pumpkin called to me. Visions of blue pumpkin pie danced in my head. Sadly, the flesh inside is still orange.

The packet reads:

“Baking, mashing, roasting, and broiling are all possible with the top quality flesh of this pumpkin. The Jaradale produces 6-10 pound fruits that will continue to please long after the growing season.”

No guidance was given on how to plant these suckers. So I followed the instructions on the other package. Yeah, that’s what I get for thinking.

This new passion may not be the “classic” definition of geeky behavior, but it’s kind of odd for a city kid, part-time writer, rpg enthusiast, and full-time husband to try his hand at gardening.

It got me out of the house and into the Arizona sunlight so my doctor doesn’t have to prescribe more Vitamin D. Get out and grow folks, you never know when you’re going to have to stock up for the impending Zombie Apocalypse!

I just hope mine aren't mutant pumpkins... or mutant Zombie pumpkins!

Yes, those are 1' by 1' pavers, just in case you're wondering!

Cheers folks!

Crafting Mines

2011-09-12T21:51:00.001-07:00

Guest Post from Andrew:

Minecraft? Twenty dollars? Why?

Is Minecraft worth $20.00? I think it depends on what $20.00 is worth to you. For me, this game is worth hundreds of hours of game play. This was the biggest influence of all when I decided to start playing Minecraft.

For the unenlightened, Minecraft is like Lego’s on crack. It is an open world for creativity to reign. It keeps me coming back for more because it is so unique. The engine in Minecraft is able to take the typical sandbox and mix it with a lot of possibilities and exploration that is only limited by your imagination and persistence. If you like the ‘grind’ of exploring and building whatever comes to your mind, then you’ll truly enjoy Minecraft.

WARNING: Minecraft is not for the story-driven.

One of eh more satisfying parts of the game is when I finally finish building something I can look at on the screen instead of my mind. I get a feeling of, “I built that!” It was something I did by harvesting the resource blocks and making my construct brick by brick. It’s not like many other games where building something is just collecting enough money and clicking on a button, no. I evaded zombies, lava, and a whole host of other hazards to make my construct.

For my $20.00, make mine Minecraft!

Questions

2011-09-12T19:41:00.002-07:00

As men go, I am uninspiring. Perhaps that’s because I’m uninspired. I wake and put my pants on, go to work, come home and start over. There really isn’t much to it really. Day in and day out is the same with little derivation. Sure there are minute changes on what to watch on the TV or what to make for dinner. Overall, there’s little that truly changes.

I walk through this life I’ve made for myself rather autonomously like a living zombie or a walking meat golem. There are times when I can feel the absolute power of change within me. I listen for it. I long for it. I attempt to follow its direction and redirect the power. Often it is useless to do so.

My huge noise in the darkness and void that is the outside world is nothing more than a duck’s fart in comparison to a solar storm. I rush and push and flex mental nodes that have been previously placed by my own fears and conditioning and in the end I move the boundaries to amount to a total net sum of zero work accomplished.

work:

[wurk] noun, adjective, verb, worked or ( Archaic wrought) working.

noun

1. Exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something

You see, I have always seen myself as a writer. I’ve had this focus for many years. I believe the first story I wrote was at the age of six or seven. It was a noir piece and barely one page long. I can ear the mechanical levers and gears of the typewriter that my mother stored in my bedroom.

The smell of the ink on the ribbon and the clickety-clack of the keys were enjoyable. I could see my protagonist in his dark hat and steely eyes. The chiseled jaw and sharp suit could cut the shadows between him and the gangsters he was after.

Throughout the years the focus waxed and waned on the idea of my being a writer. English courses came and went for me. Various books on the subject graced my shelves and were sold off to the used bookstore to give some other vagrant author the tools to succeed while at the same time putting some pittance into my pockets.

Some friends have told me that I have talent and that I should continue the path. I should continue to write until it’s finished. Keep writing. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, just keep writing. You can always edit later.

My family doesn’t even read what I write. Aside from me, shouldn’t they be my most avid fans? Shouldn’t they be my foremost advocates?

Yeah.

It all makes sense from the outside. The perception of this advice is sound. I just had to remember the Little Train that Could. Keep writing (I think I can), push through the block (I think I can), just finish the story (I think I can), you can edit later. I can edit later.

I know I have to have thick skin if I want to play in this game. I have to not care what others think of my work. I have to be my own fanatic. I have to be the driving force in this career of wordsmithing. I have to be the champion.

The drive is there. I hear the words. I can be my own advocate. There are limits to the effects of my own cheerleading power on myself. Sometimes it’s nice to have some anonymous person say, “Hey, that’s good work!”It happens occasionally, but not as often as I'd like.

According to one school of thought, that means I’m not ready to play in the big leagues. That school of thought puts me into a group of wannabe’s and neverwere’s. Yeah, the cheese stands alone. I’m not sure I wholeheartedly believe in this particular school of thought, but the instructor makes a pretty good point. If I can’t handle the fact that practically no one reads my work, then why do I even want to be in the business?

I’m still trying to figure out the answer. Sometimes I feel like Van Gogh. I know I have talent, but will the world recognize it before I go insane? Will that dream of mine come to fruition if I try hard enough? Will admitting that I'm frustrated and fearful turn off any potential readers?

Good questions.

My Wife, the Whovian

2011-09-07T18:04:00.003-07:00

My wife hasn’t always been a Whovian.

In fact, she was a long-standing scoffer of the Doctor and his adventures.

It took her close to 40 years and a guide to bring her into the fold. Her experience was somewhat forced during the reign of Jon Pertwee, the Third Doctor.

Ah the 70’s the fresh scent of polyester and the ever-present battle of yellow waxy buildup! One of her older brothers had basically taken over the television during that time frame and forced her to watch the Third Doctor and his adventures in reversing the polarity of the neutron flow.

Because of the “introduction” technique that her brother had used, she was turned off of the Doctor and his wild adventures through space and time against poorly clad enemies and extremely obnoxious Daleks.

What was the difference between then and now?

Patience.

I reintroduced my wife to the Doctor at the beginning of his ninth iteration.It was ‘fantastic!’ She didn’t want to like Chris Eccleston. She didn’t want to like the stories under the direction of Russell T. Davies. I let her come to know the Doctor as I did. He wasn’t just a time-traveling, sometimes stuffy-nosed genius with a penchant for trouble and clichéd adventures.

No, the Doctor was the agent of change (the oncoming storm) that allowed me back into my own love of fiction and smart but witty stories. The Doctor was the one who showed his passion and concern for humanity while still saving the day with naught but his brains and a sonic screwdriver. The Doctor,in short, was a brilliant being who showed his companions the best way to be either by being the example of what to do, or in some cases what not to do.

She didn’t like when the Doctor regenerated. She felt what all of us feel when the Doctor goes through that.

“Who is this new one? What’s he going to be like? I liked the old one!”

Yes, my wife made an emotional attachment to the Doctor despite her predisposition towards uncaring and ennui towards the Last of the Time Lords. She focused that on Doctor Number 10 for the first few episodes. The Chat Nurses helped ease her frustration during the trip to New Earth.

In watching the series, my wife had many questions. Some I didn’t have the answer for, some I had to answer with a knowing smile, some Ihad to answer, “just watch!” She began to really become vested in the new iteration of the Doctor. She was the new companion. Just like Rose, Martha and Donna, she moved along with the Doctor to try to find the answers along with that man with so much passion that two hearts could hardly contain it.

The transition from 10 to 11was difficult for my wife. The transformation that took place was gripping and emotional. Not only was the Tenth Doctor not ready to go, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. She had to go through it all over again.

The Doctor regenerated and now he liked bowties and fish fingers and custard. He was an alien to her. He was unruly and ignorant. He wasn’t her Doctor. He was someone new. Fish fingers and custard? Here we are four decades later from the Third Doctor and now she can’t wait for the new episodes to come across the pond (hehehe, Pond) on BBC America. Granted, she still thinks the Daleks are obnoxious, but who can blame her?

Pivot, Block and JAM!

2011-09-04T22:01:00.007-07:00

Guest Post from May:

I love roller derby because the people who participate love the fans and it shows.

They pay to be in the sport someone does not pay them, and they pay because they love the roller derby. I went to a couple of roller derby bouts and it was an adrenaline rush even though I was not skating. It was the fans around me and the pure excitement of seeing someone get knocked down and get back up for more.

The best way to describe it is just pure awesomeness and to get out and experience roller derby for yourself you will be hooked I promise.

Tucson Roller Derby on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/TucsonRollerDerby?ref=ts
Tucson Roller Derby on the Web: http://tucsonrollerderby.com/
Tucson Roller Derby on Twitter: @TucsonDerby

I'd like to thank May for her passionate post and enlightening me to the Tucson Roller Derby. Without asking her if she'd like to contribute to Speak Out With Your Geek Out, I wouldn't have thought twice about Roller Derby and getting your geek on.

This just goes to show that there is definitely more than one way to let your geek flag fly!

Geeks Without Bullies, Fantasy Without Borders

2011-09-03T23:59:00.012-07:00

Guest post from Dawn:

That is what life has always been about. Some of us have been able to see it. Others not so much, but I have a dream. A dream where all are treated equal. A dream where no one is judged by the thoughts they have. A dream where those who have them, can see their visions come true. Where the visions become reality if only for the moment. A dream where no one has to be afraid by those that believe different than others. A dream where all aspects of uniqueness are revered and no one is treated as different because someone else thinks they are. A dream where we can all be different and it's not a fault of character, but a beauty of nature.

I believe my dream can come true. Don't you? I think you do.

Dreams can always become reality, when there are enough who believe in everything they see and feel and think. Geek's rule the world, and that alone is what makes others afraid of the uniqueness and the difference in others.

But, then again, these are just ramblings. Thoughts that I keep to myself to keep from going insane while the zombies are heard at the doors.

The Preamble

2011-09-03T14:23:00.002-07:00

Geeking out isn't just about games, cards, books, dice, cloistered hallways, the smell of adolescent boys, donning on the perfect princess gear, or anything else. It's about the hobby that you're passionate about.

It could be collecting a myriad of things (I collect nutcrackers for my Christmas Army, comic books, batman paraphernalia -- gee, really?). It could be the raising of certain dogs that may be unpopular for a variety of reasons, it could be even collecting socks!

The fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter what you're into or passionate about, this is the week to talk about it in volumes! The movement is about all of us, not just one sect.

It isn't about just the RPG'ers or the LARPers. It's not about the Console Gamers, Tabletop Gamers, Board Gamers, Sports Fanatics, or any other group exclusively. It's about all of us coming together to share our interests and possibly learn something about one another.

Speak out folks. Now's your chance!

Here's how to keep track of the movement:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=190025581068159

Twitter: #speakgeek

Flames Rising Website: http://www.flamesrising.com/speak-out-with-your-geek-out/

or at

Monica Valentinelli's (the founder of the movement) Website: http://www.mlvwrites.com/2011/08/calling-all-girl-geeks-post-about-your-hobbies-september-12th-to-the-16th.html

Speaking Out

2011-09-02T16:57:00.009-07:00

Yeah, I was one of those kids.

Those kids with the dice and the books. I spent my family reunion in the mountains building a character with my cousin instead of playing baseball. I was the one who read books instead of using them as a paperweight. I was the one who was criticized by my stepfather because he couldn't understand how I could dream up entire worlds and civilizations within my head.

Yeah... I was one of those kids and I've found my brethren.

It started with an article that blew through the internet like a wildfire on steroids. It hit to the heart of every geek, goon, squib, chump, bookworm, gamer, and any other person on the outside of what is commonly "in" with these unthinking bastardization of a chimpanzee. The gentleman was into Magic: The Gathering, she was into different things. Not only was the guy into the game, he was the world champion at one point.

She is still inconsequential, IMNSHO.

In response to this malevolent attack and stereotypical response, many of us are coming together for Operation: SOWYGO. The week-long event will be taking place during the week of Monday, September 12 through Friday, September 16 out in the digital world (and probably around some tables as well).

SPEAK OUT WITH YOUR GEEK OUT
Don't be afraid to join. Leave the fears behind and band together with your geeky brethren. This is the time! Be done with the Edition Wars and Theatre Squabbles! Let's hit those ugly sons-of-mothers with some kindness and show them what fun it is to be a geek!

Bring in the others who do not understand. Show them what it's like to share interests and thoughts about geekdom. Show them that our tolerance will outlast the stereotype that they've put on us.

Let's show 'em how to geek out! Keep track of the movement here:

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=190025581068159

Twitter: #speakgeek

Flames Rising Website: http://www.flamesrising.com/speak-out-with-your-geek-out/

or at

Monica Valentinelli's (the founder of the movement) Website: http://www.mlvwrites.com/2011/08/calling-all-girl-geeks-post-about-your-hobbies-september-12th-to-the-16th.html

Hereby I challenge each and EVERY one of you to speak out with your geek out!

Cut Scenes: 1

2011-08-17T18:17:00.011-07:00

What happens when the allotted time for the session ends in the middle of a climactic scene?

This does:

“Hey, open the door Fate,” Sinii looked up at his fried who had just descended down the hidden stairwell from the trapdoor that was under the mounds of coin.

“إزالة نفسك من طريقي ، تافهة الروث آكلى لحوم البشر,” came the response. Sinii turned and saw his friend’s body, but it apparently wasn’t Cleric of Maal that the dwarf had come to know speaking.

“What?”

“وسوف يدمر لكم جميعا!”

Sinii looked up at the possessed cleric with a dumbfounded look. It wasn’t enough to have lost his beard and Mohawk to the acidic water in the cavern that the huge onyx colored dragon had made home, but now the magic in that damned sword the cleric carried seemed to have taken over his body! Fate wasn’t himself and the dwarf knew it.

“Back up, brother,” Sinii growled, preparing the great axe to bear down on the armored Maalite. “You don’t want to go visit him sooner than you had expected, do you?” Fate didn’t seem to take notice of the axe or the threat of sending the cleric prematurely to his god.

“لا يمكنك فهم القوة التي عقدت داخل. سوف أسلحة بنت الخليل تنشأ وافساح الطريق لالمدمرات التي سوف تستهلك كل العالم!” Spittle from Fate’s words flew onto the bald dwarf.

“Well,” Sinii lowered his eyes, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Sinii let his breath out evenly as the axe went up and came down. He was aiming beyond where his new-found friend was standing. It was sure to be a kill shot.

A jarring force shook the dwarf’s hands and worked its way up into the tattooed arms causing his muscles to burn from the obvious deflection. Sinii couldn’t believe his eyes, the cleric was glowing with divine might, but it wasn’t from the all-too-familiar presence of Maal from within the human. It was something else.

Fate had apparently swung and deflected the blow from the great axe with the slenderest of daggers. The cleric cocked his head and a wicked smile crossed his face. In a quick flash of bright light, Sinii felt pain lance his face. The warm gush of blood fell down the front of his neck as the acrid taste of that same blood overtook his mouth.

The reaction to yell was too overpowering and as the scream came out of Sinii, the rent on the side of his face opened wider. Falling to one knee, the ranger grabbed up part of his already ripped tunic and put it to his face to try to staunch the bleeding.

“سوف يموت أبدا معرفة هدفنا الحقيقي. مثل تلك التي كنت لا يستحق حتى الروث على الأحذية لدينا. قريبا ، سوف تعرف مكانك كعبيد إلى النظام الجديد.” With a gauntleted fist, the Cleric of Maal picked up the dwarf and tossed him out of the stairwell that had led down from the trap door on the remote island where the dragon kept its horde.

White hot pain filled Sinii’s field of vision as he landed hard on the coins, jewels, and trinkets that were piled on the island in the middle of the acidic lake. The great black dragon was already roaring as most of the rest of the party was trying to take the overgrown lizard down.

Toki was on the shoreline along with Zat and Bovine. The three looked like a minstrel group. The female half-breed had summoned a great gong for herself, an appropriate sized horn for the gnome and for the half-elf, a great pipe organ carved into the very wall of the cavern. The cacophonous trio was the epitome of chaos in sound.

The words were barely audible above the crashing gong that was under her abuse. Although he couldn’t understand the words, her passion and ferocity could be seen from where Sinii lay bleeding over 200 feet away.

“жорстокі жахливі образи загублений світ різанини мас непоміченим залишивши сиріт війни з сумними складної бачення. вони залишаються молоді та злі, небезпечні комбінації під час бігли забою і застосування терору. тіла померлих залишають на узбіччі дороги, де матері діти сплять на скривавленій землі.”

Zat blew on the horn that Toki had summoned for him to add into the howling din coming from the near barbaric orcish bard and her frenzied chanting. His cherished robes were a disheveled mess. Sinii looked up at the stalactites hanging down from the ceiling and back down to the three of them on the shoreline. If the god was willing and she was listening, the Sweet Earth Mother would release her hold on those deadly fingers to stab the dragon straight through its armored hide.

The other half-breed, Bovine, slammed down on the stone keys of the organ that was magically formed out of the limestone walls from Toki’s force of will and the magic within her strange music. The blasts reverberated through the walls of the cavern and rippled off of the ceiling in some kind of strange and sad dirge that Sinii couldn’t place.

All of the rumors that anyone who had elvish blood was harmonious and beautiful had never met a half-elf named Bovine Havok. Sinii was sure that there wasn’t a musical bone in the thief’s body. The dwarf on the island was sure that there were some bones in the various pockets of the thief though. Bovine had a rather, unusual, penchant in picking up body parts. He was almost as bad as Zat.

Sitho must have been in worse shape because he wasn’t with everyone else on the shoreline. Off in the distance, Sinii could make out the other thief on one of the smaller man-sized islands to the south of the others. His breath was ragged from the way his chest was moving up and down in rapid succession. It wasn’t clear if the full-blood elf was going to make it.

Sinii tried to grin and immediately regretted it as his hold on the flaps of his cheek came apart again. At least he’d have a new scar for whatever her name was in Narantaag. She was a piece of work that would give the both the elvish blood thieves a run for their money. She had the fastest fingers that Sinii had ever seen.

He felt more than heard the rumbling coming from the cavern ceiling. Across the lake, Sitho perked up too. Shit was about to get very interesting in a short amount of time. Rontra had heard his plight. The caretaker of the world had heard his silent prayer and decided to not send them all to Maal. Well, maybe.

The sound was more like the calving of ice than a rockslide. High-pitched squeaking combined with the chaos coming from the shoreline of the acidic lake filled the ample cavern. Sinii looked to the shoreline again and saw that the gnome had dropped the horn and had summoned one of his signature ice spheres and was rolling it towards the underside of the dragon.

It howled in distaste.

Toki kept striking her gong and repeating the war chant that she must have been taught by her people. Lords of Heaven help their enemies wherever they were. The orc chant seemed to take on a life of its own. The building of the crescendos and sharp, knife-edge drops of the diminuendos were causing a resonance that could not be contained by the cavern. Toki was ripping it asunder with the sound of her voice and a gong!

At the sound of the rock walls and ceiling collapsing, Bovine rushed from the summoned pipe organ along the pebble-strewn beach and clamored up the dragon. As he scaled the beast, Sinii noticed that the supple goat-skinned boots that the half-elf normally wore were gone. He was barefoot and attempting to ride the dragon barebacked.

Sinii watched Sitho down a potion and then leap from the small islet and climb up one of the larger stalactites that was falling down over him. The dwarf could only watch the full-blooded elf make the death defying leaps from one piece of debris to the next.

Limestone dust trailed after the elf has he bounced from the falling stalactites, one to the other. He never missed. It was like he was blessed. When he got to the ceiling of the cavern, he bounded from the razor sharp spikes until he nearly overhead from Sinii.

Toki’s music rose and fell again causing more of the ceiling to fall. The screeching and cracking from the stone released more of the powdered lime into the air which outlined the waves of sound coming from half-orc bard across the lake.

“من قبل السلطة من غير مقدس واحد ، الملك باللون الأصفر، وكلها قوية بنت خليل، مفتوحة!” Fate’s voice echoed loudly from the iron-bound door at the bottom of the stairwell. Sinii could only imagine what he was doing down there.

One of the falling stalactites must have hit the dragon, as its thunderous roar temporarily blocked out all of the sound within the cavern. Sinii flicked his eyes towards the beast and saw Bovine barely hanging on as the dragon whipped its head about, spewing acid across the ceiling. The limestone melted and began to rain down onto the beach in slow dripping columns. Toki seemed to be in a trance keeping the tempo with the gong and the strange words. Zat rolled to one side and brought another rolling sphere of ice into existence.

Deft movements from the gnome’s hands controlled the spheres. They began to roll as they moved up from the underside of the dragon to trying to contain its head between the two frigidly cold spheres. Another deafening scream came from the dragon as its angular head hit both of the spheres under the sorcerer’s control.

A nearby crash caused Sinii to jump from where he had landed. The dwarf looked back and saw a stalactite twice as tall as he was jammed into the mound that he was using as cover. On top of that broken piece of rock was Sitho, smiling like he had just bedded three whores in Latim for free.

Asgardian Gospel

2011-06-10T22:00:00.000-07:00

Asgardian Gospel

2011-06-03T19:30:00.002-07:00

Asgardian Gospel

2011-05-27T21:13:00.002-07:00

Sacrificing Sacred Cows

2011-05-24T21:01:00.006-07:00

A ROLPUNK'd take on an invading goddess breaking into a world populated with the pantheon of The Book of the Righteous.

Goddess of Darkness, Trickery, Chaos, and Destruction
Lolth
(the Dark Stranger, the Queen of the Demonweb Pits, the Mistress of Lies, the Lady of Shadows)

Alignment
Lolth is Chaotic Evil

Representations
Lolth favors the guise of a lithe elf woman dressed in a gossamer gown woven from the silk of spiders. Her long, silvery hair cascades down her back and frames a face of exquisite beauty. This appearance is a deception.

Lolth’s true form captures her corrupted and darkened nature. In reality, Lolth is a massive spider, a black widow with dripping fangs and eight chitinous legs that support her body, which is bloated on devoured souls.

The symbol of her worshipers is an eight-sided compass rose with an elongated North and South. This is a relatively new symbol and only the Canaraketh instantly recognize the symbol as a sign of a hated enemy.

Purpose
Lolth is a capricious goddess. She subverts and manipulates those in her service, expending them without thought. Her cruelty is legendary. She feasts on the misfortune and misery of her subjects, propagating betrayal and deceit.

She patterns her life and the lives of her worshipers on a regimen of chaotic acts and the veneration of spiders. The way that new-born spider clusters tear each other apart to survive especially appeals to her. She promotes this by encouraging her worshipers to kill their rivals, thus ensuring that they are the strongest of her broodlings.

Her love of chaos often makes her appear mad but the wise see her as a calculating individual who is always several steps ahead of those who believe that they can anticipate her. She is cruel and domineering, forcing her will upon her followers and her enemies, a will which instructs the strong to crush the weak in the most torturous way imaginable.

Lolth has made her domain in the sixty-sixth layer of the Abyss, a terrible realm known as the Demonweb. In this interminable black void, webs stretch in an elaborate network that supports ruined cities and relics stolen from other worlds. The webs change constantly, shifting as Lolth spins new threads and destroys old ones.

The Demonweb Pits yawn below, and it is there that Lolth holds court and hatches her hideous plans. The Demonweb Pits boast a number of portals that link the Abyss to other planes. Using these gateways, Lolth extends her influence across the cosmos, conquering unsuspecting communities with demonic armies or subverting them into her service.

The Church
The cluster, as the church is called, was brought through the void and into the world by a half-elvish druid and a band of gnolls. Since that time the Lolthites have spread their word of fear, domination and cruelty through the known lands with a specific agenda to slay as many Canaraketh, and the Faithful as possible. The rest of the darker races can either convert to Lolth's will, or be destroyed.

Much of her faith is carried in the hearts and minds of gnolls, orcs and trolls and other races who rule with a combination of fear, deception, shadow, lies and have a huge appetite for death and destruction.

Church Description
Lolth’s church promotes the superiority of the Lady of Shadows herself above all other beings. It is responsible for the perpetuation of the rumors and fear that the followers of Canarak hold for her and her followers. Even Lolth’s most devout clerics both fear and hate her, worshiping her only for the power she grants. Her clerics act as the silent rulers, police force, judges, juries and executions within the church. Their cruelty serves are designed to keep the rest of the Lolthites wrapped up in a web of fear and darkness and unlikely to convert after being accepted into the church.

Aid from the Lady of Shadows usually comes after a long length of suffering and struggle. She prefers to have her broodlings to strive to manipulate those around them, and to be feared. Treachery and cruelty are rewarded within her clusters, non compliance to the will of the Lady of Shadows or the broodling within her clusters are dealt with in the most painful of manners.

Lolthite Broodlings practice monthly sacrifices of not only elves, but also gnolls, orcs and trolls on the nights of the full moon. Afterwards, the broodlings raise the dead and reanimate the lifeless bodies only to set them loose upon the world. Other ceremonies take place in secluded areas, primarily underground away from the surface dwellers and other worshipers of the Mistress of Lies.

The Order of Soul Spiders
The Order of Soul Spiders is an elite military order composed solely of male broodlings of various races, although they are primarily gnolls. These holy soldiers are agents of uncontrolled destruction, tirelessly hunting any creature designated as their quarry or who interferes with their pursuit and wreaking havoc until recalled, which rarely happens, or destroyed, their most common fate.

Handmaidens of the Spider Queen
The Handmaidens of the Spider Queen is an order of female broodlings with no permanent ties to any individual cluster. Also known as the Daughters of the Yochlol, the Handmaidens serve as instruments of Lolth's will in times when the Spider Queen needs to bring an entire city under her control. When not assembled into an army of chaos and vengeance, the Handmaidens work in small companies scattered throughout the land harassing merchants and trade caravans that look to other deities for protection and conduct hit-and-run raids on cities ruled by the Great Church.

Church Doctrine
Fear is as strong as steel.

Weed out the weak and the rebellious.

Destroy the impugners of the faith.

Revere the dark.

Revere arachnids of all kinds. Those that kill them must die.

Preferred Weapon
Poisoned Daggers

Holy Orders
Broodlings may choose two of the following domains: chaos, evil, darkness, destruction, or trickery.

Cleric Alignments
Most broodlings and most Lolthites are chaotic evil. They revel in spreading terror and fear in any way they can.

Spell Preparation Time
Broodlings prepare their spells before dawn, when it is always darkest.

Asgardian Gospel

2011-05-21T14:08:00.004-07:00

Talking Soup

2011-02-22T18:44:00.000-07:00

I make good soup.

If you didn’t know that about me, that’s my own fault and I’d like to rectify that.

Hello, I’m Gary, and I make good soup!

So, what does that have to do with the blog you’re currently reading? Well the issue is of focus, time management and output. It’s also about less specialization. I don’t need to manage three different blogs to be who I am.

Okay, so maybe the issue is that I’m tired of trying to maintain three different web presences with limited to no success. I don’t need three different faces to let everyone know that I’m as rich and hearty as my soup.

I’m jam-packed full of flavor!

There are times when my presence is light and mellow, offering a pleasant and happy distraction. There are also times when I’m heavy and overpowering, dragging you along for the ride. I’m also everywhere else on any given day. My flavor may change depending on the ingredients I have – as it should.

There’s a great deal of information and guidance about how to develop platforms and presence out on the web. Some of it contradicts one another. After analyzing all of the data that I’ve come across, the only solution that I can come up with is a rather clichéd adage put out by Sammy Davis Jr.

Which was also updated for the younger generation by 23 Skidoo.

As of today, I’m putting a plan in place to accomplish me being me.

Hi, I’m Gary: Writer, blogger, rpg gamer, console gamer, diabetic, step-father, husband, friend, confidant, proof-reader, smiler, frowner, eater, cook, baker, ~~candy-taker~~, dancer, prancer, romancer, rhymer (no, wait, that’s someone else), foodie, ex-smoker, science-fiction/fantasy nut, storyteller, bread winner, digger, amateur philosopher, reader, psychologist, Landgrave of Charcuterie, Garde Manger and whole host of other things.

I make good soup.

Ping

2011-02-14T21:38:00.003-07:00

Male Elf

Professional Fixer: Former Wuxing Johnson

Initiative: 6 + 1D6
Astral Combat Pool: 7
Combat Pool: 8
Spell Pool: 5

B4 Q7 S4 C6 I5 W4 E6 M6 R6

Active Skills
Conjuring 4
Sorcery 4
Edged Weapons 4
Pistols 3
Etiquette: Corporate 3/5
Negotiation 2
Aura Reading 2
Computer 2
Unarmed Combat 3

Knowledge Skills
Corporate Politics 3
Criminal Organizations 3
Shadowrunner Haunts 3
Megacorporate Policies 3
Chinese Mysticism 3
Chinese History 2
Chinese Tea Ceremony 1
Cooking 2
Metahumanity 2
Smuggling Routes 2
Dragons 1

Language Skills
Cityspeak 1
English 2
English R/W 1
Chinese (Han) 2
Chinese (Han) R/W 1
Chinese (Cantonese) 2
Chinese (Cantonese) R/W 1

Spells and Magic Gear
Force 3 Weapon Focus (STR + 2)M
'Heaven's Bane'
(Chinese Broadsword)

Force 2 Specific Focus
(Influence)

Influence 5
Lightning Bolt 4
Armor 4
Heal 4
Darkness 4
Mass Confusion 4

Other Gear
Secure Long Coat [4/2]
Walther Palm Pistol SS/4L
Ares Predator SA/9M

Contacts
Blue Dream (Decker) 1
Jayne (Street Samurai) 2
Lindsey Coley (Fence) 1
Zhou Qing (Triad Soldier) 2
Greasy Pete (Rat Shaman) 1
Leonardo diAgriggio (Mafia Enforcer) 1
Patrolman George Price (Lone Star Cop) 1

Playing Ping
Ping holds himself in high regard as he works hard for his clients and expects them to work equally has hard to complete the job. He often sees both the paying clients and the runners as customers to his own business. To that end, he always has tea and oranges on the table during any interview. It is always best to entertain guests appropriately to achieve superior results. While Ping is no combat monster or shadowrunner, he can hold his own if things go sideways during any meeting.

As an Elf, Ping will often treat fellow elves with more respect and pleasantries than those of the other races, at least on the surface. As a Chinese Elf, Ping has learned to play the game to get ahead. Underneath the surface of the Tea Ceremony that he often performs is a boiling hatred for the gwailo that supply him his nuyen.

Dark Nostalgia: An Interview from the Future-Past

2011-01-26T20:03:00.005-07:00

----[TRANSMITTING FILE. . . . . .

Listen up all you slots and trogs out there in the metroplex, you're in for a real treat with this broadcast! We've got a group of real, LIVE Shadowrunners that have agreed to give KCOK, FM-103.2, The station that keeps the 'plex ROCKING HARD all day long, an interview for all our chummers out there in radioland!

This interview is brought to you by our sponsor The Body Count Lotto where the numbers from the Friday night Firefight can win you up to ¥500,000 in the metroplex's highest progressive jackpot!

DARKSTAR Felicitations there Chummers! Let's get right down to biz then, eh? Believe me, it looks like these guys spent their nuyen on hardware instead of a sense of humor! How long have you been in the shadows?

[FROSTY]: Several years.

[PILGRIM]: I'm relatively new to the shadows. I used to hold a legitimate position with the Wildcats in the NAN.

[ULA]: For under a year.

[MOLOKAI]: Long enough, what's it to you?

[MOTHER]: Well as a decker that's kind of a rhetorical question. I've been in trouble with the corps since I was first able to "jack in". I showed a strong aptitude for computers at a very early age and my parents were quite encouraging. They didn't have a lot of money but they were able to give me a basic jack on my sweet 16th. That's when the drek hit the fan...

DARKSTAR So, then why did you start?

[ULA]: I had led a fairly quiet life until I started dabbling in magic and my mother died. After my father remarried I was made to leave the tribe, and when I ended up in Seattle I made the right friends at the right time, and here I am.

[MOLOKAI]: Well, it sure beats being in a federal prison. Besides, when you're on the run and can't use your own SIN, where else are you supposed to go, Azatlan?

[FROSTY]: Because of the retirement benefits. Actually, the money is really good. And it's something to do instead of flipping soyburgers on a street corner or getting chained to a cubicle. What other job is there where you can do damn near anything you want?

[PILGRIM]: I HAD to get off the res. I had always lived in my brother's shadow and felt stifled. Coming to Seattle was a breath of fresh air for me. A run just fell into my lap. They suit my experience and skills. From there I was hooked.

[MOTHER]: Because. In addition to a zealous interest in all things matrix related, school profiles also showed a strong rebellious streak, my counselors were always preaching about my "problem with authority." No shit! My friends could have told you that years ago. So I started hacking for kicks, then to maintain SOTA, then, and the next thing I knew I was running for my life. We'll just leave it there.

DARKSTAR I know a lot of our listeners out there might think that you're some kind of modern day Robin Hood. How do you feel about that kind of drek being said about you?

[PILGRIM]: I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel proud. Where else can you do right by the poor and oppressed? Certainly, there's not that chance in a menial position with a corp. I have to say I do miss protecting my native nation but here I am impacting the source rather than the symptom. Here we send a clear message that we're not going to stand for being held down by The Man regardless of his color.

[MOLOKAI]: I'm not sure I like it. People on the street have some really different opinions of shadowrunning. It's not all guns and glory like the sims present it. There is little romance in the bottom of a tofu container when you've been staking out a place for five or six hours making sure the timing is just right.

[FROSTY]: I feel like the laymen of the street need to watch better trid programming. I have a low opinion of the common cattle-uh, I mean, man. Firemen are heroes. Once in a while a cop is a hero (when he isn't busy shaking anyone down or accepting bribes to look the other way). Hero's are not people who get paid to do bad things. Things that real people don't want to think about, admit, or deal with.

[MOTHER]: What the frag eva! Ha! A hero? Hmmm. You should ask my mates that I run with on that one. I don't think I could quite fill those shoes. Granted I can handle myself a lot better now but I'm still pretty gun-shy. I lost someone very dear to me once because they had to be a hero. Never again chummer! I strongly discourage those traits in anyone I care about. Get the gig. Get the job done. Get the nuyen. Get the frag out and fade. Next idiotic question?

[ULA]: I think that we are just supplying a service to people in need. My main role as a healer is to try to make sure no one gets hurt or dies. That's who I am, and I don't think it's heroic or cowardly, just the way it is.

DARKSTAR Well! I see. So, how about the opposite then? I mean, I know Lonestar has to have an opinion too. How do you guys feel when the world out there thinks of you as scum lower than a Halfer on a bad day?

[FROSTY]: I think the laymen of the street have started watching better trid programming. I don't particularly think of myself as either street scum or as a hero, but I think shadowrunners in general are. There are many more low class, unprofessional sinless morons who will do anything for a shiny credstick than there are real shadowrunners.

[ULA]: I'm sure that there are a lot of people that consider us scum. I try not to let it affect me (and it's gotten easier as time goes by) too much. I know who I am, my teammates know who I am.

[PILGRIM]: That's just ignorance talking. They don't understand who we are or what we are fighting for. Course there are a lot of shits out there only in it for themselves. I think that's selfish but if they can have a positive impact then so be it. Sure it's arrogant and unethical but it's morally right. It's more a matter of desperation than anything else.

[MOLOKAI]: Those are the people who don't see the people on the street. There was this one run we did for a Lonestar Johnson that had no clue as to what to do about these certain bank robberies. Well, with Lonestar running around like lost Barghest, the bank robbers had a plan. They were feeding the homeless on the street. Those slots on the street who think that we're scum ought to look into their own souls before casting judgment on ours.

[MOTHER]: Now that I can understand. The masses have become fearful and complacent. There is no doubt that we play a necessary evil in our society. We're part of a check and balance system used to evaluate, monitor and control the unnecessary evils out there. Now it's just a matter of enlightening the masses. I don't expect our society to rise up as a whole and shrug off their current lifestyles in order to revolt and fight for what they rightfully deserve. And there are a lot of negative elements out there that sully the reputation of "runners."

DARKSTAR So, what about these Johnsons? Have you ever run against them?

[MOLOKAI]: Yes. And I have no problem running against a Johnson for personal honor. You don't screw over shadowrunners and get away nicely. We aren't that expendable. You hear that Mr. J?

[MOTHER]: Again, it's very hard to generalize any group, Johnson's included. I worked with individuals who were very altruistic and some who weren't, and hell yes I ran against them. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction or some drek like that. This applies to everything we do in any of our lives regardless of our chosen profession. There will always be conflicting interests depending on your station in life, the corp you work for, whether you have a SIN or not, etc. The best that any of us can hope for is to know yourself and make the decisions you can live with.

[FROSTY]: Yes. Sometimes it's necessary. When a baby gets out of line, he gets spanked. When a Johnson sets you up for a fall or tries to have you killed, he gets spanked. Difference being the J gets spanked with large caliber weaponry or high powered mana. It's a necessary trade off. If you kill J's, you don't get hired. If you don't kill the ones who step out of line, it sets a nifty trend for J's to not be wary of what they are doing to the team they hired.

[ULA]: Yeah, but not one that didn't deserve it. It essentially comes down to "Don't frag with us, we won't frag with you." It's that simple.

[PILGRIM]: Let me tell you that there are some unscrupulous people manipulating things behind the scenes. Yes I have run against a Johnson. But only one who had crossed the pack first. There are certain types of jobs I feel comfortable with and certain types I would never dream of doing. We have been misled before and I'm sure we will be led astray again in the future. You define who you are early in life and have to stick to it.

DARKSTAR Sure, sure. Bet tell me, how much influence do you think you really have in this Sixth World of ours? I mean, every shadowrunner has a story to tell that makes them feel important, so what's yours?

[PILGRIM]: Sometimes it's daunting when you think about the power that some of these corporations wield. The impact that runners make is kind of like a domino effect. Sure many people fear or hate us but there's also a great many that we give hope to and help. If we're lucky our actions will inspire those people to stand up for what they believe is right. That's about as much influence as I feel comfortable with.

[ULA]: Enough to heal the people that my mates decide need to be hurt. I try not to get as involved in the violence. Strange isn't it, a shadowrunner that is basically non-violent? Don't get me wrong, I'll strike when I need to, and I've done things that amaze myself, but I'd still prefer to hang in the back until the wetwork is over.

[MOLOKAI]: Ever heard of Highstar Entertainment? Poor Mr. Johnson went and landed street side after a forty-floor tour straight down. I guess he didn't have a harness on when he was washing the windows.

[MOTHER]: A well planned, well-executed run can cripple a corporation that doesn't have a lot of redundancy built into their structure. That's a lot of influence when you think about it. But understand that it is NOT what I am about. I just want to live to see tomorrow. Course I wouldn't mind getting those fraggers responsible for Joel.

[FROSTY]: I probably will never knock one of the Big 5 out of the rankings. I might piss off some CEO of one of them, but my influence is the influence of vermin. Sometimes, though, vermin can carry all the power. Like rats in Europe. Some of the lowliest vermin carried the Black Death, killer of 75% of the population in Europe over the course of 200 years.

Sometimes I talk too much.

DARKSTAR You guys have got to come from somewhere, so do you think of the families and friends that you've left behind?

[MOLOKAI]: Every day. Why do you think that I got into the biz? If that little son-of-a-slitch laid another hand on my sister I swore I'd kill him. He decided to call my bluff.

[FROSTY]: Of course, that's assuming that I have a family anymore.

[MOTHER]: Family is something I left behind a long time ago. After what happened with Joel I knew there was no way I could protect my family and no way that my actions were going to place them in jeopardy. I'm dead to them and anyone who knew of my relations unfortunately. Would I change it if I could? You bet. There's not a day that goes by I don't miss them but there's no going back.

[ULA]: I think of my Father often, but I will never see him again and I almost wish that I could just bury him in my mind and get on with life.

[PILGRIM]: Absolutely. Every day. I hope that my actions and beliefs make my ancestors proud of me. I love my family dearly even though we may not see things eye to eye. I would love to have a family of my own someday.

DARKSTAR What about the families that you've destroyed? Do they ever enter into your shadow-sodden brains, or are you just a bunch of unfeeling punks on the streets?

[FROSTY]: Yes.

[MOTHER]: That's a tough one. As I stated earlier, every individual is responsible for their own decisions and actions. If those conflict with mine so be it. If their actions threaten me or mine then the choice is pretty clear to me. I feel for the families. I really do. That's why I've made the life choices I have to protect mine. If any of you wage slaves read this, involve your families in your decisions and have their interests at heart.

[PILGRIM]: That's something I need to do more of. I can be very myopic when I set my sights on achieving something, a run included. I AM a fighter and a hunter. Sometimes my blood lust gets the better of me and I can lash out in retaliation to a threat. This has led me to regret some of my actions in the past. Only I can accept responsibility for these and will have to deal with that for a long time to come. It's a spiritual thing that I am having a hard time putting into words.

[MOLOKAI]: There's an old 2-D movie that I think of sometimes when the wetwork has to happen. I don't remember the name of it, but it has a scene with this shadowrunner in a pawnshop tossing rings at the owner. He says some drek like, 'Each one of these is a life. A life that you helped destroy.' Well, sometimes the guy is just a poor slot in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's just biz. But there is a church down on Deacon Street. The minister there is a nice little Halfer, he lets me light candles sometimes.

[ULA]: I try not to. We've helped many people too.

DARKSTAR Ok, ok, enough of the dark and dreary. What do you guys do for fun? Club Penumbra? The Big Knobi Klub? Glass Spider? What?

[MOLOKAI]: Fun? What the hell kind of mediahead are you? There isn't much room for fun when you're running from the law, the government, various corporations, or just some suicidal slot that just want to sell your gizzard to the nearest Ripperdoc down the alley. Jesus Christ! What a fragging stupid question!

[ULA]: I like to practice the flute. Yeah, yeah I know it's pretty silly and I'm not very good, but it's fun and keeps my mind occupied. I'm trying to learn more about hand to hand combat, but it still makes me a little queasy.

[PILGRIM]: As I was saying I like to think I'm a very spiritual person and can be very solitary because of this. I love to get back to nature for some well-earned quiet time as much as I can. I love the desert. I love the mountains. I love the plains. And the night! Man I love the night. When the full moon's out and there's no plexes or vehicles around and the spirits are calling, there's nothing quite like it.

[FROSTY]: A whole lot of different things. Probably a lot like what you do for fun. You don't have to worry about people trying to track you down by your habits, though, so I don't think I will go into much depth.

[MOTHER]: I deck and then I deck some more. Seriously though I have been focusing on my meat a little bit more recently thanks to some friends of mine. I've learned that balance is good. Some deckers I know feel that they're only alive when in the matrix. Does that seem right to you? Is that any better than BTLing it? All I know is that it's not right for me. A physical outlet is good for me, and my future wellbeing.

DARKSTAR Hmm. Ok, fun is out for our pointy-eared friend. What's your role on the team here?

[MOLOKAI]: Slitch.

[ULA]: I am the Shamanic healer. I also am the bullet magnet in heavy fire.

[FROSTY]: I am primarily a combat mage. I can also dump a three round burst from a SMG into a 3 ½" x 5" card stapled to the head of a silhouette at 40 meters while running at full sprint. Or I can sling the ju ju for hours. I'm a god damned Swiss Army knife. Jack of all trades…but master of few.

[MOLOKAI]: My role? I'm a member of an elite crew that does covert operations for Johnson's. Other than that, I drive, shoot, and crunch up some electronics. You? Oh yeah, 'mouthpiece.'

[PILGRIM]: You wouldn't guess it by looking at me, I'm your typical muscle. Now don't go thinking that I've violated my body with all that wire and chrome and chemicals like gutter trash. I've been taught to hunt and fight since I could walk. I strive to embody The Great Wolf in everything I do. Wolf holds perfection in his simplicity to life. You hunt to feed your family. You fight to protect your family from danger. The pack is the most important thing in my life, whether blood or not.

[MOTHER]: I handle all matrix-related areas. Information and intelligence control. We are going to be working on a little team redundancy so I am looking into installing a VCR and maybe a skillwire. I've also been working out and spending some time on the firing range. I've had some bioware augmentation to make myself less of a hindrance for the team in a physical aspect.

DARKSTAR Ok, pretend your sitting in front of a crystal ball. How do you see yourself 5 years from now? What about 10?

[MOLOKAI]: Honestly there are times I don't know if I'll see myself five or 10 days from now.

[ULA]: Jesus, how the hell am I supposed to know? Dead, alive, rich, poor, it's all the same to me in the end.

[MOTHER]: Baby I want OUT! Some may get off on the rush this biz provides but not me. I would love nothing more than to disappear and live comfortably. Spend some time taking care of myself instead of biz. Course the matrix will always call me. I'd just like to be able to be a lot more selective and only do lucrative matrix runs.

[PILGRIM]: I want to experience much in this world. I want to see Wolf in all his environments. I want to push myself through great adversity to prove myself. Eventually I truly want to raise a family. When I return to my people and family a success.

[FROSTY]: I don't envision myself past the end of the week. I have plans, but I don't keep my head in the clouds. I could die as soon as we leave this building, enemies I don't even know about waiting for me. 5 years is a long time when you ride with death.

DARKSTAR Given the circumstances right now, how do you envision yourself leaving the shadows?

[MOTHER]: If I ever do get that time I just mentioned I'd like to open myself up again enough to find someone that I could care for and vice versa. Maybe that would be the motivation I would need to walk away for good.

[MOLOKAI]: Bullets and gun smoke come to mind.

[PILGRIM]: Stronger, free and wise.

[FROSTY]: Either in style, or in a bag.

[ULA]: I can't tell you how I picture leaving, but I can tell you that I don't see it being something that is planned. I'm happy with this life now, and if or when I leave I can't imagine the circumstances that break me from the friends that I have on the team.

DARKSTAR So, let's get personal. What was you life like before you began running in the shadows?

[ULA]: My life was pretty quiet and simple. I was the healer of a small tribe when I was 13, but we usually didn't have any more serious injuries than a splinter. I do remember one time when I was about 14, one of the smaller children came running into the camp holding what looked like a scrawny calf leg with half the meat gone over his head, waving it and screaming in the most disturbing way. His name was Omel, and he was a favorite of the camp. When he got closer I realized he was holding his own arm, which had been torn off by a beast that had snuck up on him. Realizing the courage that it must have taken this child to tangle with a wild animal that had his own arm in it's teeth gave me extra reason to try to save the arm, but it was just too mangled and too, well, eaten to save. He was bleeding horribly when he staggered into camp, the spraying blood making patterns that almost seemed to look like the gods mocking me. When I saw a splatter that looked for all the world like a large snake, my totem. I got to work, and though I didn't manage to save the boy's arm, I did save his life. What has become of him since I left? I wish I knew.

[FROSTY]: Not as interesting, but the health benefits were good.

[MOTHER]: Ya know that's something I barely remember. Even when I wasn't doing runs professionally, I was doing them for kicks. It's so easy to be your own boss when you're a decker. As long as you've got the programs and the right deck you can write your own ticket. Cutting out the middle Johnson does wonders for your profit margin. I guess my life was pretty boring.

[MOLOKAI]: Well, I was a slot in a job. A job that I used to like, before I got my Kiroshi's installed.

[PILGRIM]: I loved life on the NAN. I don't remember a lot about my early childhood. It really is a wonderful place to grow up. I had so many friends. The bonds so strong to transcend time and distance. My brother and I were exceptionally close. We trained together with my father. We went to school together. We joined the military together and eventually came to be in the same squad in the Wildcats. I love him so much. But eventually felt a little smothered. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision to leave but there is so much for me to learn. I know in my heart that I am walking the right path and this will enrich my relationship with my family and Wolf.

DARKSTAR Do you miss anything about your previous life? Ya know, the one you can't go back to?

[PILGRIM]: There I go again answering your questions before you ask. I miss my family above all else. I miss the sun and fresh air. I miss the stars. I miss the camaraderie of our squad. Soon I must make a trip back to visit.

[ULA]: The food.

[MOLOKAI]: Clear vision without the fuzzy grain and the metallic taste in my mouth every morning. And I kinda miss surfing without having to worry about the salt water's effect on my hardware.

[MOTHER]: My family and Joel.

[FROSTY]: My girl, Linda Lou, who has tied a yellow ribbon around the ol-sorry. Obscure reference. I miss many things about my previous life. They aren't the kind of stuff that I will tell you, though.

DARKSTAR So, what would you do with a legal SIN right now?

[MOTHER]: What? Like it's any big deal to get a SIN? I could get you one by tomorrow. Course it's validity is going to cost you big time. You act like a SIN is the answer to any chump's prayers. Let me tell you chummer I could never be a suit. Too low on the food chain to really make any positive impacts on your life and too many political games to stomach moving up the ladder. I prefer to make my mark on the sidelines and hope for something better for me and mine.

[FROSTY]: Why do you assume I don't have a SIN? I have four.

[MOLOKAI]: A SIN isn't all what it's cracked up to be, wahine. Besides, do you really think I'd tell you that?

[PILGRIM]: Maybe I'd start a bogus secured transport business as a cover for my shadowrunning activities.

[ULA]: I think I'd take a trip out to the reservation. I can't rejoin my tribe, wouldn't want to now, but it would put some skeletons to rest to see them again.

DARKSTAR Well gee! If all this shadowplay is so deadly, why don't you just quit? It's not like you've got to write a two weeks notice or anything.

[MOLOKAI]: Man, who gets these people to ask you these questions? Did you write these, or did some other bag-jobbed slot do it for you? You fragging people have no clue, and won't until you've actually done it. Fragging pimps! You don't understand the rush and thrill that shadowrunning has when you pull off a job in one night and get fifty-thou for the taking.

[ULA]: I have no desire to leave the team that I've been with. I've done quite a bit of meditating and communing with various spirits in the past months, and all that they've indicated is that I will come back to the shadows. When the spirits say it's time to leave, then I will.

[FROSTY]: Because I don't have enough money in the bank to buy that little house with the white picket fence and concealed sentry guns.

[PILGRIM]: To quit now would deprive me of too much growth. It would be admitting failure and weakness. I have close friends that depend on me and I will not let them down. It's a matter of honor.

[MOTHER]: Look, how many variations on a theme are we going to drudge through here? I just don't think that there ARE any other options available to me besides running. I could never limit or restrict myself in the Matrix. That would bore the hell out of me working as a corp decker.

DARKSTAR A lot of people on the street talk about honor in shadowrunning. Is there really an honor system you guys follow?

[ULA]: Of course there is, don't be silly. There can be honor in anything if you only don't break the rules you make for yourself. We are not some marauding butchers, flying through the night on razor-laden motorcycles. Though that does sound like a great way to make an impression! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, honor. It's simple. We do what we're paid, and we try not to kill anyone unnecessarily. If you don't frag with us, we'll tend to leave you alone. If you hire us, we will do all we can to get your job done.

[PILGRIM]: Are you reading my mind? Hold on a sec. Hmmm. Ok, we can continue. Honor is a personal thing. Either you have it or you don't. It is harder to find in this age but not where I'm from. It's in the way you're raised, your belief system. It's in the way you resist temptation and weakness. Never stop fighting for what you believe is right.

[FROSTY]: As much honor as there can be when you are dealing with borderline psychopaths (and some that are obviously over the line), power hungry idiots, and illegal actions so dark that the lights of the Vegas 'plex would be swallowed whole. Within that framework, some honor can be found. It can be simple, like "don't shoot children", or complex, like "I need to have the oyabun over for coffee since he freed me from sex slavery and all". I personally like shooting people in the back when they don't have a chance to draw. It increases my safety margin. If I can use dirty tricks, I will. Because no one else is going to hold anything back.

[MOLOKAI]: Honor is all how you look at it. Is it honorable for the cops and the corps to keep slamming the squatters who have nowhere else to go? Is it honorable for those same people to put out edicts and laws that keep benefiting their own instead of trying to help the problem all over North America? Is it honorable when you sit there in your silk suit and try to pretend to care about all this drek when all you want to do is go home and sip on your SoyFrappacino and slot yourself off while in the Pronroom? Before you ask me wahine, ask yourself.

[MOTHER]: AGAIN honor lies with the individual not with the profession. Of course there is honor, if one has morals and sticks to them. If they fight for what they believe is right. That's a really ambiguous question. Tell me about your credentials again.

DARKSTAR How would your lives be different if you had never come across that dark day when you were first in the shadows?

[FROSTY]: Little house with the white picket fence, but without the sentry guns. Running has taught me a healthy sense of paranoia.

[MOTHER]: I would probably be in jail or dead. Without the interaction with individuals with the experience to help guide me and teach me the shadows I would be in deep doo-doo right now. It would certainly be more boring and frustrating. I'd probably be married and assigned to one specific sector for one specific corporation. [yawning]

[PILGRIM]: It would be just as noble to have remained with my squad and protect the borders of our great land. I would have deprived myself of a great many experiences and maybe been a bit more naive due to this but one can never tell. It is as it should be.

[ULA]: Boy, how far back do we get to turn the clock? If I were still wandering the desert after being driven out by my tribe, then I'd be dead or mad. If I got to stay, I'm sure that I'd be the medicine woman to his day. If I made it to Seattle, but never got mixed up in the shadows I'd probably still be dead, my friends were the best protection and teachers I could imagine.

[MOLOKAI]: It would be over.

DARKSTAR Way to use up air time there Molokai! Let's try to keep your verbiage down, ok?

DARKSTAR What? Time's up? Oh man, just when things were getting good! As you can see, there are a variety of ethical and spiritual beliefs in the shadows. Which are you going to follow?

[THE VIEWS EXPRESSED HERE BY THESE CRIMINALS ARE NOT THE VIEWS OF KCOK RADIO, DARKSTAR DELILAH, OR THE BODY COUNT LOTTO]

ENDING TRANSMISSION]----

Shadowy Thoughts

2011-01-25T21:32:00.006-07:00

When I first got into Shadowrun I was in awe of the genre. I had tried to reproduce it with GURPS, but it just didn't click. The willowy elves and the robust dwarves just didn't have the right stuff in our group.

Much of the problem was the mechanics of the game engine, some of it was the execution from the players, but the majority would be from the lack of a certain skill set in gamemastery.

When I came across the now defunct Shadowrun Archive, accessible here through the wayback machine, I first came across Blackjack's Corner.

Branson Hagerty aka Blackjack taught me a great deal about shadowrunning and more about how to be a game master. I'd be remiss if I didn't bring to light the little data that I could find that he had written on the subject.

So, without further adieu:

Blackjack's Guide To Bitter Gamemastering
Originally posted: Branson Hagerty (Blackjack's Shadowrun Page http://shadowrun.html.com/users/blackjack/) Posted April 01, 1996

Shadowrun 101

A simple sample:

Joe samurai is hired to break into a corp's office and steal the CPU from his desktop computer. They need the hardware within three hours. It is now one in the afternoon. The name of the corporation is Corp Inc. It is located in an A section of downtown Seattle. The office of Mr. Coogle, the corp, is located on the tenth floor in room 12.

Possible courses of action, can you guess which one's the best?

A. Joe samurai walks into the lobby of Corp Inc. with a panther cannon and a LAW screaming, "Is there a Mr. Coogle here? I'm looking for a Mr. Coogle..."

B. Joe samurai drives his heavily armed and recently stolen City Master into the lobby, pops open the hatch, and screams "Is there a Mr. Coogle here? I'm looking for a Mr. Coogle..."

C. Joe samurai hooks up with Joan decker and Jack shaman and they drive to the location, Joan in a separate car. They drive past the building once and pull into a nearby parking lot, five new yen an hour. Joan had noticed two security cameras on the outside of the building and a guard in the lobby. Jack shaman tells everybody he'll be right back, pops into astral space and discovers that astral security, if any, is out to lunch. He also spots a guard and a camera by the elevator of each floor. Before being frightened back into his body by a pissed off Spirit Of Man he takes a quick look at the target room, discovering no security systems and what could possible be Mr. Coogle happily singing to himself on the can. He returns to find Joan gone and Joe buck naked in the back of the Brumby, changing into a suit. Jack briefs Joe on the corporation's "security" and Joe laughs so hard that he almost drops his fake ID. Joe in turn informs Jack that while he was gone Joan phoned a friend who gave he some access codes and a floor plan which she printed out before leaving to find a nice isolated place to jack in. Jack says "neato" and flips a coin as he cannot decide whether to stun someone as a diversion, or blow something up. It comes up tails and Jack begins to look around for a nice Electrocar he can Wreck. Jack puts on his head set and Joe thinks his into action as he exits the vehicle and merges with the rush of corporate foot traffic. After stopping for a soy wiener at a small cart across the street from Corp Inc. the security cameras begin to nod. Everything is clear. As Joe crosses the street he notices that there is a patrol car in the area and informs Jack that he should not blow up anything just yet. He enters the building and is promptly intercepted by a big, burly security guard named Alf who requests to see his ID. Joe produced the fake and holds his breath. Alf's expression turns to that of a smile as he compliments Mr. Shurbert's new hair cut and allows him to proceed. Joe runner enters an elevator, notices that the one and three buttons are flashing in rapid sequence, and quickly gets off. Apparently Joan thinks it better that he take the stairs. Hoping that nobody noticed the trip up he briskly enters a stairwell and begins the climb to the tenth floor. On the way up he notices that one of the security cameras is nodding, smiles, and continues on his way. Once at the tenth floor he walks at a business person speed past the guard and over to office twelve. He knocks. Nobody answers. Apparently Mr. Coogle is out getting lunch, or else unconscious on the toilet. Joe figures it is possibility one and comes to the realization that he's been standing in front of the office door for a good ten seconds and the guard is beginning to take notice. Quickly he enters a security code and, with a loud obnoxious yelp, the device rejects it. He tries another and the same thing occurs. Joe runner is beginning to get worried, even more so as the guard approaches with a quizzical look on his skinny elven face. This would be a good time for Joe to panic, were he not a professional. He quickly surveys the situation. Guard at four meters, two business types in the vicinity as well. He hears Jack's headset hit the van floor. The guard is in Joe's face now. Jack has a Manhunter in his belt. He decides to wait. A call on the guard's radio. A seemingly possessed troll has barged into the lobby and has commenced with urinating on everything. All available guards to the lobby. The camera behind the guard begins to nod and the door lock snaps open. Joe runner says something witty as he and the guard part and Joe enters the office. Jack is back on his head set and explains that the troll was his idea as Joe breaks out his electronics kit and removes Mr. Coogle's CPU. Joan's voice startles him as it suddenly emerges from an intercom box and she informs him that the print scanners on the elevator buttons are now deactivated. On the way down Joe decides to be safe and take the stairs anyway. He exits onto the street after wading through a crowd of business types and security personnel who have gathered to watch the now hog tied troll roll around on the floor and attempt to figure out what the hell is going on. Joe stops for another hot dog before meeting up with Jack and Joan and heading to the drop off location.

Which option's best? If you guessed C, you get a cookie.

This run is probably one of the simplest out there. No assault cannons or Wasps or dragons or Black IC or demons with your name on them. A simple in and out. Joe samurai's scenario went off fairly well. Here are some points I felt were important.

*The GM didn't do anything to bail Joe out of a tough situation, his fellow runners did. Had Jack just sat around doing nothing the events on the tenth floor could have turned ugly. Had Joan done the same he never would have made it off the ground floor. Joan had a constant eye on Joe's progress and made sure his path was clear. Jack was ready to jump in at a moment's notice, which he did without putting himself or the rest of the team in further risk.

*Joe kept his cool. He could have started blasting when cornered on the tenth's floor and may have succeeded in his mission using methods of that type. But he didn't have to, and probably didn't want to. Blowing away a messed up ex-runner with a vendetta against children is one thing. Taking out a security guard for walking down the hallway is another.

It is doubtful that any actual run would ever go down this smoothly. Usually the group is lacking either the necessary equipment or personnel required to do the job perfectly. Had Joan not existed the entire approach to the situation would have been different. This team used what they had to their utmost potential and that is what made the difference.

This story also represents my own personal bias against what I deem unnecessary violence. The group could have pumped the building full of cyanide and then blown it up after taking the loot. They could have gone in with silent APDS flinging assault rifles and taken everybody out. And as a GM I should tolerate their actions without bias. But I normally won't. This doesn't mean you can't snipe off guards around a compound or HMG a gang headquarters. Sometimes you almost have to. But think first: Is this what my character would really do? And if he would, make sure you can justify it to yourself in several ways just to be sure. Sometimes you have to do really terrible things to live, just make sure you're not living to do really terrible things. Unless that's what your character is all about.

In which case he won't even make it through one of my gaming sessions.

Blackjack makes some good points. What he fails to speak about is the fact that he, aside from his bias, is working with the group to help create the situation to allow Joe to keep his cool. He, as the gamemaster, is not out to 'get' the characters.

Either there were enough characters in this little, hypothetical 'Simple Sample' to successfully execute the run or the gamemaster provided his own expertise and allowed the necessary NPC's to join Joe's party.

For me, the remaining thought is to think clearly and remember that the game is a partnership between the gamemaster and the players. If something isn't clicking, more questions need to be asked and more options need to be presented.

Sometimes the hard option is to switch games, switch players or just switch the venue (in other words, take a break). As our Master Curmudgeon alludes, it is much better to try to see all sides of the situation rather than just rushing into it headlong without any recon.

Guess who's back.

2010-09-23T11:19:00.002-07:00

Hello, me again.

I feel like I've been asleep for the last few months. The funky fog that I've been in is something that I allowed to happen. I'm not going to blame anyone else. I think it's just time to become more involved in my life instead of just existing.

Simply existing isn't good enough anymore.

Let's start at the beginning. I was diagnosed with Diabetes Mellitus Type 2 at the end of January, 2010. My world changed and I hadn't the wherewithal to change with it. Sure, there were new toys and new procedures to deal with, but I am still struggling with changing the core behaviors that led up to the fact that my first blood test showed over 300 milligrams per decaliter of glucose in my system!

So my PCP announced the fact that I had Diabetes much like a game show host. The little Chinese man rushed in and apologized for his brevity because he had to attend a conference, raised up his hands and exlaimed, "You have Diabetes!"

:|

Yeah, I felt like a loser sitting in a chicken costume playing on Let's Make A Deal! I had won the right to change my diet and habits. I had won the right to be on prescription medications for the rest of my life. I had won an entire new subspecies of depression and angst.

Yeah, about that.

Nearly 8 months later, I'm finally coming to terms with perhaps looking at actually trying to cope with my newfound friend rather than hating the world for it. It was coincidence that I had quit smoking and was then diagnosed. Lovely, isn't it? It was as lovely as being kicked in the nuts for my trouble after helping an old lady across the street. It was happenstance. I didn't know the old lady was kin to Cruella DeVille. Go figure.

The only way I know how to be held accountable for my trying to deal with my Diabetes is to put it out there in the universe. I know I've been withdrawn and sullen and often caustic in regards to friendships and relationships. Again I see this in hindsight as the fog is lifting from my head. I can only hope to restore some of my grace and righteousness in laying it out on the line.

Going forward I need to formulate a plan on how to deal with the dieting and excercising in addition to upkeep on my writing. It seems that diet and excercise (along with my prescription medications) are the only way to deal with my condition.

So, groovy, I can plan all day, but I need to follow the plan. I feel like I'm some sort of food and fat addict going through a 12-step program. It feels like an addiction and I'm hoping to switch the addiction to a healthier lifestyle rather than the pity party that I've been throwing.

Bits of Character

2010-08-22T22:47:00.005-07:00

Toki

The primary thing that passed through Toki's mind was the fact that Jester had been assaulted and mind-raped by the plant. The bard couldn't have imagined such a thing could be done to a druid. Large gaping holes were in the back of the half-elf's skull from the vines and tentacles drilling through the bone to dig into the soft brain tissue underneath.

Zat and Sitho had ingested the pollen. They were off in their own little worlds. The elf was holding his kukri and rocking back and forth on what looked like a disheveled watermelon with sliced tentacles coming out of it. The gnome was a little bit better off, he was singing. He had just turned himself the color of butter. The tune wasn't bad, but the lyrics were pure shite.

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

The only thing that Toki could think of to use as a bandage were the leaves on the ground. It would only be temporary, but she had to stop the bleeding in the woman's skull. The alternative would only lead to all of their deaths.

Toki looked up at the trees and then to Sitho and Zat. They were hooped. Miles away from the nearest city and wanted by the courts of Maal. What else could possibly go wrong?

The half-orc still had her banjo and there were swords and bows in the brush from the last victims that the controller plant had consumed. A smile crossed her face causing the fangs in her mouth to gnash against each other. Toki was elated with the find. She had been without a bow since they left Latim. It would be good to get back into the game instead of playing as backup to the gnome and elves.

It's odd the last things that go through one's mind before darkness takes them over. No one ever thinks about their loved ones or family or how the bastard union between monster and man could make something so gentle, fragile with the soul of a poet and the appearance of a monster. Caught between two separate warring worlds and welcome in neither.

Toki didn't think of her biological family as the giant spider took her through the trap door that the thing had built into the forest floor. Instead she thought of the incidental family that she had grown fond of during the short trip. She didn't intend to become attached to the gnome and the elves, but found herself worrying as the eight terribly strong legs held her fast as spinerettes leaked the strong silk that was being used to tie her up.

She was only able to hear Zat's mal-aligned lyrics as the spider took her underground.

"I came along. I wrote a song for you. And all the things you do. And it was called 'Yellow'."

Fate

Fate.

He didn't choose the name, it was given to him by the celestial. His birth name was lost to the sands of time and the never-forgotten pain of blood turning against blood. No one in the Courts had ever questioned his name. It just was.

It was the gnome he had tracked down that was the first to ever even give a sidelong glance when he introduced himself by his name. To the gnome, the cleric's name must have been a joke. The gnome may have been chronilogically older than Fate, but the impish humanoid couldn't know what had gone on in the past. Maal's Wisdom prevailed once again as it had throughout his life.

Maal's Wisdom is Infinate.

"Son," voice spoke loudly in his head as he was interviewing the once-blue-but-now-yellow gnome and his elf sidekick, "they're on a holy mission. Assist them."

Fate knew instantly what he was to do. Desite the fact that the four (where was the fourth?) of them were criminals underneath the law of Latim, he was to be their aide, to be their support. Fate knew it was going to be a trial, but when the Lord of Justice speaks, the Officers of the Court listen.

Maal's Wisdom is Infinate.

The druid was nearly dead. There was no other choice but to heal the female half-elf. The bard was missing. Where was she? As a half-orc, Fate knew that she could take care of herself, but in the wilds, anything could happen. Fate knew that Maal had sent him to them for a reason, but they didn't know it yet.

Sitho Diver, Jester the Green, Zatqualme Damascus and Toki Wartooth; they were the ones who had caused the disturbance and escaped. They were the ones who had caused Fate to be selected out of all of the Officers of the Court to track them within the Dragon's Ridge Mountains. Fate frowned at the heavens. Maal's words were clear and his path was set.

Maal's Wisdom is Infinate.

It was in the dead of night that Maal had informed Fate of the next task.

"Centuries ago, the Fire Mage Sefara bint-Khalil crafted a great sword of immense power. She called it Sayf al-Qadar, the Sword of Fate. With the power of her magic and the skill of her sword, she roamed through the scorched sands of the desert nation of Agresia and united the roaming bands of Al-Bakhtiaria." Maal's rich and commanding voice drowned out all of Fate's fears.

"Sefara bint-Khalil gathered and led her army, Asfar Yad al-Naryne (the Yellow Hand of Naryne) against the treacherous Caliph Anwar al-Raman who usurped the throne from his brother. The great walled city of Ayn Minzar with its mirrored spires and golden mosques did not fall immediately to Sefara bint-Khalil and the Asfar Yad al-Naryne because the Caliph had not only his own army of soldiers Asad abd-Noran (the Slave Lions of Noran) who were all to eager to paint the desert red with the Fire Mage’s blood, but also an army of mighty jinn serving under him"

"The Fire Mage also had jinn as well as otherworldly hosts at her command. In the end, the battle was rumored to take nearly 40 days as the sands soaked up the blood and vultures feasted on the dead. Tired and wasting away, the Fire Mage surveyed her army and knew that she was fighting a loosing battle. There was no way within the realm of her control that she could take the city and remove the Caliph from the city."

Fate could almost feel the eyes of the Lord of Justice, King of the Dead gaze upon him, yet he could not look upon the divine face of Maal. So great was his voice, so terrifying was his presance. Fate kept his head bowed.

"She prayed to Naryne with no answer. The Imams and other Shi’ars had no answers. Even her might army of jinn and otherworldly hosts gave her no advice. She only had one choice left; after all, the known mistake is much better than the unknown truth. Sefara bint-Khalil saw all of the dead and knew she still had an army."

"As she brought about the rites and rituals to raise the dead from the sands in all defiance of the Great Church and all she knew to be righteous and true, she knew her soul was damned to be ripped to pieces from the devils and demons of Hell. Sefara bint-Khalil wept as her undead army, her Azma bin-Azmati stormed the gates of Ayn Miznar."

"With the reinforced army, Sefara bint-Khalil overtook the shining city of Ayn Miznar and dethroned the Caliph and restored the balance of power to the blistering country of Agresia but not without a price."

Sweat poured out from the cleric from underneath his armor. He knew it was a dream, yet he could feel the physical manifestation from Maal's Divine Grace.

"Capture the sword, the Sayf al-Qadar for my brother's servant. The Darmonite Aziz al-Ajami has a destiny to fulfill. Our part is to set justice on the right path."

Fate awoke as the leaves parted to reveal the night sky. In the heavens, a shooting star passed across the darkness. Fate was revealed his path. For better or worse, he was Maal's servant and he would aide the criminals.

Maal's Wisdom is Infinate.

Zat

The Elven king was grey in color, his once beautiful hair was stringy and damp. It was as if he had been dunked beneath the ice floe and quick-frozen in place. The gnome stood in place, terrified as the fish dripped onto the tiled flooring of the throne room. Alffjörd, normally alive with the white and blues was paled. A sick yellow sunlight came through the stained glass windows.

"There's nothing you can do Tinelite! Nothing at all!" The shadow of the king launched itself across the flooring and wrapped around the gnome. The blackness lurched awkwardly and quickly seized the gnome's small booted feet.

Zat's eyes went wide as the shadow held him fast. King Amadire's form twisted and bloated itself into a form that Zat couldn't comprehend at first. A huge belly pushed out from underneath the vestments of his office. Sick grey skin mottled with blue veins pulsed with a beat that was unnatural.

The elf's body twisted and changed into an unholy representation of itself. Another set of arms pushed out from underneath the ones that were already in place. The robe ripped as the the new hands clawed at the fabric. Multiple glowing eyes popped into place underneath the crown of wet limp hair. Zat quickly counted eight all together.

King Amadire's mouth split as insectoid mandibles pierced through the mottled flesh of his jaw. Blood and ichor spilled out onto the hand-crafted tiles. Small tapping came up from the floor as Zat saw what had to have been Amadire's teeth bouncing on the floor.

"Your father has succumbed to the call, Tinelite." the beast form now growled from an alien visage. The once-king and now monster of Alffjörd made a sound that only could have been a mutated chuckle. "He now seeks Carcosa along the Lake of Hali!"

It was after Toki was taken by the spider that the dream had evolved.

Sitho

Sitho sat on watch and glared over at the human who had joined them. He had piched his tent near the opening that rogue had found.

The 'lawman' came.

Across the thrice-damned Serpent's Bridge and through the Dragon's Ridge Mountains, he still came. The fire blazed from deep beneath the earth where the giant spider's lair must be. If the giant beast were anything like the little ones, Toki would be dead by morning.

Damn Maal and his Court. Damn the short-lived humans. And damn Uncle Solar for putting him on edge! Sitho knew he wasn't even suppoed to be in Latim when the gnome started the trouble.

Sitho was expecting someone else other than the cleric. Cousin Reyna would be the logical choice from his family. She was quick and well outfitted. Her skills were something to behold. She had a deadly grace and a more than ample bosom. It had been more than once she had put him to the ground during combat training and more than once he had put her to bed.

All Sitho could do was to prepare. In the darkness and the soft glow of the fire burning 20 feet below ground, he sharpened his kukri. Hearing the stone slide across the steel seemed so natural and calming.

Shickt-ting. Shickt-ting. Shickt-ting.

Yeah, it would probably be Reyna.

To whom it may concern:

2010-07-28T19:53:00.000-07:00

ちょっと嫌いな人、すでに十分。

理解？

Fly-By's 01

2010-07-15T22:37:00.014-07:00

Fly-By's are one-shot scenarios that you can use for a pick-up game or work into your current campaign. In Ship Shape a group of archeologists are confronted with a recently excavated evil.

Download here.

Bringing Madness...

2010-07-15T11:26:00.001-07:00

Go to Part 1

Symond’s stare seemed to intensify as the three cloaked figures scanned the room and quickly sat down in a shadowy corner. The green eyes rimmed in yellow did not soften. I glanced at the three shadows that interrupted the story. The tallest one seemed to be the leader. He pointed and the other two followed. The freckled angel in blue floated through the crowd to bring the three new patrons their beers.

Milo continued playing as Symond fell silent. The chords and tones that Milo was shaping under his nimble fingers seemed to ease the crowd. Few noticed that Symond was visibly stunned due to Milo’s ability to take the crowd over with his music.

The halfling stroked the guitar strings with both hands that seemed to alternate between strumming and plucking notes to either create harmony or discord, depending on what he thought was needed. Milo never looked up from his guitar. As I had said before, he was a master bard. The halfling seemed to instinctively know what was needed for the crowd not to get lost into reality.

“The Nameless One was born out of the chaos of the Schacté as well as his children, his children’s children and all of us.” Symond continued in his gravelly voice, instantly drawing me back into the story he was telling. “He was the first of many, the father of a most Divine ancestry.” Symond licked his lips with a thick tongue.

“But he was not the only one to be born on that day.”

Silence reigned within Benak’s Blue Monkey. For an eternal second no one in the tavern spoke or even breathed. Symond grabbed a cup from the nearest patron and drank deeply. I could see his hands shaking. A slight tremor rumbled across and through his left eye. Symond worked in a lightning-fast glance towards the shadows in the corner who were sipping cautiously on the chilled sour beer before he continued.

“The Nameless One was. The Nameless One is. The Nameless One shall ever be.” Symond continued. His voice was strong, but a little shaky. The dynamic of his story changed with the presence of the unknown shadows sitting in the corner. “But he was not the only one born out of that chaos.”

I flicked my eyes to the three shadowy figures in the corner. They were dead still and silent. I think I knew at that time that they were protesting silently but didn’t have the authority to do anything. They were here to observe, just as I was.

“The Nameless One,” Symond chuckled loudly. It was a deep baritone reverberation that seemed to echo off of the walls in spite of the filled room. “The Unspeakable One was not the only thing that crawled out of the chaos of the Schacté.” Symond frowned to the crowded room. “The Great Church doesn’t speak of the other Great Old Ones that were born in that eternal storm of the Schacté .hey do not tell you of the Glaaki or Eihort. They do not speak of Mordiggian or Nodens. You do not know of these and the other Great Old Ones. The Great Church forbids it.”

Symond lifted one of his arms and pointed out to the crowd and then brought his finger to his temple and smiled that ugly, snaggle-toothed smile of his.

“But I know of these Great Old Ones. These are the brothers and sisters of the Unspeakable Nameless One.” Symond’s grin seemed to expand and take up the lower half of his face. “But who was the Unspeakable Nameless One born of? Who are the parents of the mighty One? It wasn’t simply the Schacté. That was an after-effect of the cosmic union of Azathoth, Shub-Niggurath and Yog-Sothoth!” Symond was screaming at the top of his lungs, “This is what the Great Church holds back from you! This is the ancient and secret knowledge that you have been forbidden to know. This is why you are here. This is the story that you do not know. This is why I am here.”

Milo’s playing took over as Symond withdrew back into himself from his near ear-splitting tirade about unknown Gods. My mind was racing. I scrambled quickly to find my journal and a pencil in which to capture the strange and unusual names. I tried to say them, my tongue twisted around the alien words. I butchered them until I recalled how Symond yelled the syllables.

“From the union of Azathoth, Shub-Niggurath and Yog-Sothoth came the Schacté.” Symond took his seat back at the fire pit. His voice was no longer screaming, but instead scholarly, as if he were hosting a lecture at any of the Great Church’s Libraries or Scriptoriums of Tinel. “The Nameless Unspeakable One was the first, but not the only of his siblings that came out of that powerful force.”

Symond licked his lips again and paused. The room seemed eerily silent as Milo’s masterful fingers had ceased strumming and plucking on the guitar. There was a tension in the room that was almost palpable. I desperately wanted another cold beer from the freckled serving angel. She was lost in the crowd and no longer moving.

“We have not been granted the knowledge by the Great Church and its maddening conspiracy to hold our minds hostage. They speak of the Word being the most holy and divine. I know the true power of the Word. It is only the one Word that will unravel all of reality and align the stars to the right configuration.” Symond looked up at the ceiling apparently seeing things beyond the wood of the rafters and roof, nails, pitch and tiling.

“When the align themselves,” Symond whispered as he scanned the skies beyond the Blue Monkey, “The Great Old Ones, the parents of the Nameless Unspeakable One, Yig, Nodens, Mordiggian and so many more, will be free. At that time, we will be destroyed as the Nameless Unspeakable One utters his final Word.”

One down...

2010-07-13T22:12:00.004-07:00

Courtesy of Charlie Ball. Meet Nogg!

The lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the courtyard before returning it to the feeble light of the torches sputtering in the rain.

Brother Sorren, an old monk of the Brotherhood of the Shining Light, knelt over the motionless form of a large and well-muscled man. The monk carefully examined the man, paying much attention to a horrendous head wound. After a moment, he stood up and spoke to the captain, frowning.

“I fear it is... too late. The wound is the most severe I have ever seen. That he made it even this far...”

The captain growled and the monk took an involuntary step back.

“We did not haul him all the way here for a funeral, monk. Your order is supposed to have the best healers in the land...”

“I understand your grief, Captain... but sometimes the Gods-”

“That man has saved the lives of every one of us more times than you have prayer beads, monk. It is NOT the will of the Gods that he should have sustained such a wound, nor is it the will of the Gods that brought him here! And I promise you it is not the will of the Gods that keeps me from burying an axe in your hide, Sorren. If it is beyond your skill to aid him, then bring someone here who can!”

The monk paled, noting the faces of the gathered soldiers. The rain seemed to punctuate the silence. He glanced once more in the direction of the dying man, then nodded. Speaking to an acolyte, he said in a quiet voice, “go awaken Brother Anselm.”

The Acolyte seemed about to speak, but thought the better of it and ran in to the monastery, not bothering to avoid the puddles.

“Begging your pardon, Captain,” said one of the soldiers, “but Lord Peiwitt is certain to have sent men after us by now... time is something we have little of. Can we not--?”

“Then the time we do have, we will use here. You know I did not exaggerate with Sorren. We owe him,” he replied firmly, though without anger, as he nodded toward the dying man. “We will do what can be done here, as well as it can be done... then we'll go.”

The Acolyte returned a few minutes later with another monk in tow. If the first monk was old, Brother Anselm was positively ancient. He glanced first at Brother Sorren, then at the Captain, then finally at the man lying on the ground.

Without speaking, he moved with a quickness that would have been remarkable in a much younger man. He began chanting, softly, in a tongue that seemed at once both familiar and alien. A glow seemed to envelop Brother Anselm as he reached forward to touch the dying man on the head.

The glow grew brighter, until even the flashes of lightning went unnoticed.

Finally the glow subsided and the ancient healer slumped, leaning on the shoulder of the acolyte.

“It is done,” he said quietly. “But there he will not be the same. Carry him inside where it is dry... he needs rest. You may speak to him when he awakes.”
With that, Brother Sorren and the anonymous acolyte helped the healer back inside. At his direction, four of the soldiers lifted the unconscious man and carried him inside.

They laid him down on a small bed which creaked mightily in protest at the added weight.

The monks brought them a simple meal which they ate in silence. The Captain bid his men get what rest they could and went to sit beside his fallen comrade.

In the dim light, he noticed that the head wound had indeed healed, but there was now a vicious scar--a permanent reminder of both the battle and Peiwitt's treachery.

After a while, just before the sunrise, the rain stopped and the enormous man stirred. The Captain looked into the man's face as he regained consciousness.

“You've finally taken a shot to that noggin of yours that you couldn't shrug off,” he said with with some relief. “But thanks to the monks here, you'll be up and around in no time.”

The man opened his eyes and the Captain's slightly crooked grin ran away from his lips.

Where once there was the light of a playful intelligence, there now resided nothing... or damned close to it. There was no quick retort... no expression of recognition... no realization of where they were nor what had happened.

The man on the bed raised a large, grimy hand to touch the medallion that hung around the Captain's neck. The first rays of the sun reflected off of it and he smiled slightly. Then he spoke a single, slightly slurred word.

“Pretty.”

His life had been saved, but his mind was gone.

The soldiers departed at first light. The Captain thanked the monks for their effort, though his heart clearly was not in it. He bade the monks watch over the fallen man until they could return to take him home.

Nogg

Male Human Fighter 1
NG Medium Humanoid
Init +0

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DEFENSE
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AC 14, Touch 12, Flat-footed 14
HP 12
Fort +4, Ref +0, Will +1;

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OFFENSE
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Speed 20 ft.
Melee: Greatclub (1d8/1d10)
Ranged: Rock (1d3)
Special Attacks: none

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STATISTICS
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Str 20, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 12, Cha 10
Base Atk +1; CMB 6; CMD 16
Feats Endurance, Diehard, Weapon Focus: Greatclub
Skills: Survival +1
Languages Common
Gear: Chain shirt (slightly rusty), Greatclub, Backpack, Traveler’s Outfit

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HISTORY
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Nogg was once part of a mercenary company. The company he belonged to had been contracted by a local lord to help in some border skirmishes. During one of those skirmishes, the mercenaries were betrayed by the noble who'd hired them.

In a desperate attempt to escape, Nogg managed to put his prodigious strength to good use and he pushed part of a fortified wall down on the advancing enemy. In the process of making their escape, he was struck by a stray bolder that had been launched by a siege engine.

He was taken to a nearby monastery for healing. While his flesh was healed, his mind was diminished. The monks explained that the Gods must surely have had their reasons for not completely healing him, but they were not inclined to share those reasons.

Not being able to look after him (for they were still being pursued by their betrayer), the left Nogg in the care of the monks. Alas, they failed to inform the monks of his real name, so he goes simply by the name of Nogg.

In return for his room and board, he works for the monks, performing those tasks that the monks have the patience to teach him.

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PERSONALITY
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Nogg is simple minded, and his actions and speech reflect it. Even so, he does, on rare occasions, seem to remember bits of his former life. He is generally kind, even tempered and gentle but is still capable of anger and violence, particularly in defense of his friends.

Sobering Remarks...

2010-07-12T21:30:00.006-07:00

Go to Part 1

“The Great Church condemned me for alleged heresy for what I am about to tell you.” Symond withdrew into himself and sat back down on a large floor pillow near the fire pit. His ugly face showed the concern and remorse that the crowd had expected. Milo continued to strum on the guitar that was twice his size. To this day I don’t think I have ever come across a true master with the skill that the halfling displayed when he was performing with his partner,.

“It wasn’t a snap of His fingers,” Symond’s fingers came together in a sharp report that surprised everyone, “and the breathing of His name that created the Nameless One and all of us.” Symond’s eyes grew sharper, taking on an edge of what must be the latent troll lineage that I had seen in him before. Despite his performance, I could see the hurt and belief on his face. The past was etched in the slight tremor of his left eye. What he was about to say was the truth.

The warm euphoric feeling I had from Benak’s sour brew faded immediately. Others were just enjoying the show that the two master bards were putting on for the crowd in the Blue Monkey. I was here for research. I had heard of Symond’s story of the beginning, of the Word, of the creation of the Lords of Heaven and the casting out of the Schacté and the fall of Kador. This is what I had come for.

“It was the power of silence and darkness that had reigned within our universe for countless epochs before the Nameless One finally uttered the Word.” Symond licked his lips and motioned for a drink. An oversized wooden cup was handed to him from the crowd and Symond drank deeply from it before handing it back. “It wasn’t the silence of a forest when a great beast is hunting you. It wasn’t that. It wasn’t the silence of an empty church pew in the deep of night when you’re praying to the Lords of Heaven for some semblance of grace. It wasn’t that at all.”

“It was the silence of the universe that had not discovered the thought, the idea, or the very concept of sound. It was devoid of sound and the twitterings of insects such as you or I. Sound had not yet been born, it had not even been conceived!” Symond bellowed to the crowd.

“The darkness was not that of a dank cave when you’re tindertwigs have run their course. It wasn’t the darkness one dreams of when you have finished your business of the world and have gone to be judged by Maal within his bleak halls, it isn’t even the black deep dark that winds its way through our greatest of Grandmothers of all, Rontra.” Symond paused and lowered his head and whispered very loudly and reverently.

“Let not my blood be washed away. Let not be my life forgotten.”

The crowd echoed his prayer to Maal, the Firstborn and the King of Souls. A slight shiver passed through me as I heard the ending of the Entreaty. I knew then that Symond’s words were the truth and that he had been truly punished for them. The sour taste in my mouth seemed to be enhanced as Symond uttered those sacred words. He was deadly serious.

“It wasn’t as simple as the Great Church would have you believe in the legends and tales that the Deacon’s pass down through their Clergy and Paladins. No. There was a war of creation and destruction.” Symond smiled as best he could with the features he had been given. His underbite was more accentuated as he grinned. It showed off more of his troll lineage as his teeth seemed to protrude from his jaw and gnash against his upper lip.

“For countless years the Schacté ripped at the darkness and silence. It roared into the great void of nothingness and ruptured into the black. It cascaded and burgeoned. The Schacté pushed up against the obscurity that was and created the illumination that led to a great coagulation of energies and a convergence of power. The universe itself was being ripped apart as the Schacté malformed the black void.”

“Great tethers of magnificent energy were thrown throughout the newly illuminated reality that was to become the Nameless One. The far-reaching tendrils of divine power took years upon years to begin to form out of the maelstrom that once was silent. It took unknown epochs of time for the Nameless One to be created.” Symond was nearly whispering now, making sure that he made eye contact with nearly everyone in the room.

His sharp eyes drew me in somehow. They were yellow around the edges with crow’s feet that seemed to hint at his age. Between the sour beer in my belly, the freckled serving angel in blue, the crowd and the bards telling me about a new idea of creation, I found that my attention was too fractured to take it all in. Symond’s powerful eyes drew me in. He seized my attention like one of the Naraneth pulling on the iron collar of a disobedient slave.

I took in his story. The Great Church did not condone such blasphemous words that Symond was spilling out for the crowd. Milo kept in time with Symond. The tunes were mellow when they needed to be, drawing the crowd into Symond’s story and hit a crescendo just as Symond was building up his pitch and volume to match the incredible story.

Sparks and embers rose quickly from the fire pit as the door to the outside opened. Symond’s gaze instantly changed, breaking the spell he seemed to have had on me. The fearsome visage inherited from his troll ancestor could not be hidden through the eloquence of his words or the charisma he carried, which was stunningly hideous but very powerful, any longer.

Three cloaked figures came in quickly.

Go to Part 4

The Sword of Fate

2010-07-08T17:47:00.005-07:00

Fate has a way of finding just the right time and the right people it needs to perform any task in the known world. It doesn’t matter what land you may hail from or what world you may inhabit, Fate will find you and have its way with you. It tends to guide you in ways you cannot imagine and influences the choices you make with far-reaching repercussions.

The Shame of Sefara bint-Khalil

Centuries ago, the Fire Mage Sefara bint-Khalil crafted a great sword of immense power. She called it Sayf al-Qadar, the Sword of Fate. With the power of her magic and the skill of her sword, she roamed through the scorched sands of the desert nation of Agresium and united the roaming bands of Al-Bakhtiaria.

Sefara bint-Khalil gathered and led her army, Asfar Yad al-Naryne (the Yellow Hand of Naryne) against the treacherous Caliph Anwar al-Raman who usurped the throne from his brother. The great walled city of Ayn Minzar with its mirrored spires and golden mosques did not fall immediately to Sefara bint-Khalil and the Asfar Yad al-Naryne because the Caliph had not only his own army of soldiers Asad abd-Noran (the Slave Lions of Noran) who were all to eager to paint the desert red with the Fire Mage’s blood, but also an army of mighty jinn serving under him.

The Fire Mage also had jinn as well as otherworldly hosts at her command. In the end, the battle was rumored to take nearly 40 days as the sands soaked up the blood and vultures feasted on the dead. Tired and wasting away, the Fire Mage surveyed her army and knew that she was fighting a loosing battle. There was no way within the realm of her control that she could take the city and remove the Caliph from the city.

She prayed to Naryne with no answer. The Imams and other Shi’ars had no answers. Even her might army of jinn and otherworldly hosts gave her no advice. She only had one choice left; after all, the known mistake is much better than the unknown truth. Sefara bint-Khalil saw all of the dead and knew she still had an army.

As she brought about the rites and rituals to raise the dead from the sands in all defiance of the Great Church and all she knew to be righteous and true, she knew her soul was damned to be ripped to pieces from the devils and demons of Hell. Sefara bint-Khalil wept as her undead army, her Azma bin-Azmati stormed the gates of Ayn Miznar.

With the reinforced army, Sefara bint-Khalil overtook the shining city of Ayn Miznar and dethroned the Caliph and restored the balance of power to the blistering country of Agresium, but not without a price.

It is said that she spent the rest of her days killing and destroying the undead that she had raised on that most shameful days in an effort to bring restitution to her soul in the eyes of Maal. It is not known if she was forgiven as the Maalites are not speaking about it.

The Disaster of Aziz al-Ajami

Once again, the balance of power in the scorched desert lands of Agresium has shifted. A new Caliph has risen from the high deserts and has sworn his allegiance to the God of Tyranny, Naran. The Caliph Qazim khel Khayal, Khan of the Ghost Warriors has risen to power and taken the mantle of leadership within Ayn Miznar.

Along with the Ghost Warriors, Caliph Qazim khel Khayal has created a conscripted army of slaves (Mamluks) and assigned his Imam to create, instruct and train holy warriors (Fasir) to strengthen his grasp on the shifting sands.

Aziz al-Ajami escaped from the slave camp of the Caliph known as the Janzir al-Hadid, the City of Weeping, with only one burning thought in his mind, he had to find the Sayf al-Qadar and put the Caliph to death upon its blade. For days he had wandered the wastes finding allies to form a rebellion. Fate was on his side. Soon, others joined Aziz al-Ajami as his rebellion grew. The Dib al-Rih (the Wind Wolves) began to fight the Mamluk army of Caliph Qazim khel Khayal.

During a successful raid against one of the Caliph’s strongholds, Aziz al-Ajami found a lead as to where the Tomb of Sefara bint-Khalil was located. Taking a few of his trusted soldiers, Aziz al-Ajami retrieved the sword only to be attacked by the Caliph’s Fasir. As the battle took place, the band of former slaves and barbarians of the desert were pushing the Caliph’s Holy Warriors back.

Aziz al-Ajami pushed his fate too far.

Something happened in the Tomb of Sefara bint-Khalil. Aziz al-Ajami and most of his men were attacked by something other than the Caliph’s Fasir. The Caliph’s warriors and the Wind Wolves, including Aziz al-Ajami mysteriously disappeared. Only one of the Wind Wolves made it out of the tomb alive.

A former slave and lieutenant of Aziz al-Ajami named Al’ia bint-Hazir staggered out of the cursed tomb found herself miles away on the trade route known as the Black Road where she was picked up by a caravan heading towards the Baronies of the Glenfields. Within the city of Lantim, the Jewel of the Gleaming Falls, Al’ia bint-Hazir is hiring adventurers to find Aziz al-Ajami and the Sword of Fate.

Not so different, but...

2010-07-06T20:15:00.002-07:00

Changes
David Bowie

I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time

I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't tell t hem to grow up and out of it
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Where's your shame
You've left us up to our necks in it
Time may change me
But you can't trace time

Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time

From the darkness...

2010-06-23T21:27:00.005-07:00

Go to Part 1

“You all know the story!” Symond hobbled to the fire pit from somewhere behind the crowd. I watched him work the room. He was technically human, although from what I could see from his phrenology, more than a bit of troll was in his bloodline throughout his lineage. That didn’t hinder his skill though. The ridge jutting out above his eyes sported thick eyebrows making Symond look much more like his troll kin rather than human. His underbite didn’t help that matter either. The story teller had a gravelly voice that was deep and penetrating. His eyes were as sharp as dragon’s teeth. His looks served him well. People underestimated and feared him all in the same glance.

I watched Symond amble and feign injury. He limped and used a decorated walking stick to sell the disguise. I couldn’t help but smile at him as I took another long draught from the oversized wooden cup full of that sour beer that I had grown to love. The crowd parted for him. The guild artisans in Kenthrall could learn from Symond and his halfling partner.

“Yes!” Symond bellowed again, “all of you know the story. The Great Church and their Clergy and Paladins and Deacons have spoon fed you the story from the time when all of you were just an inkling in your daddy’s eye.” Symond laughed. It was a great deep chuckle that resonated in the story teller’s chest. It was boisterous and passionate, but mostly it was just plain creepy. It was a superb show so far. I took another sip of the beer in my cup and waited.

“In the beginning,” Symond swung his stick around forcing the crowd further back. “In the beginning the universe was pure and wholesome and good!” Symond laughed again. “It was the most perfect thing. It was devoid of evil, of chaos, of insalubrious energy.” Symond glared at the crowd and frowned.

He had them.

“There was nothing in the void, but there was a ripple.” Symond drew one of the patrons closer to him with his left hand as he mimicked the ripple with the head of his walking stick. The feathers and trinkets caught the light from the fire pit. “There was a force of change. It was an energy so great,” Symond paused and stared hard at the crowd. His particular gravelly and grotesque charisma fixed their eyes to a point where he wanted them to watch.

They didn’t see the small packet that Symond had tossed into the fire pit before he grabbed the man to distract the crowd’s attention from the fire. I tried to estimate how long it would take before the fireworks. It must have been a well practiced routine. I had counted to ten before Symond started to speak again.

“The Schacté came!” Symond almost screamed as the flash packet exploded into life. The blue and green hues flared up from the fire pit making everyone in the Blue Monkey take a breath in shock and awe. I hid my grin by taking another long pull from the beer in my hands. I nestled into the large pillow on the floor and waited for Symond to continue.

“Yes, it was the Corpus Infernus that shook. It alerted Him and with a great intake from godly nostrils He breathed out only one word.” The notes coming from Milo had grown softer and matched his partners near whisper. I could hear murmuring in the crowd. Yes, they knew the story. The Great Church told it well on every Holy Day.

“You all know the story.” Symond nodded to them. “What happened next?” Symond looked around the taproom at the crowd. There was a seemingly natural scowl that crossed his face. He sat down with some effort at the fire pit as Milo played the soft tune.

“Stop.” Symond put his hand on the strings. “They obviously know the story. Let them tell it.” Milo stopped playing and scanned the crowd with his small face. The halfling’s face seemed to crumble as he looked up at them. There is nothing as pitiful and heart wrenching in the world as a halfling looking up at you with a sad face. It is reminiscent of arriving at a children’s birthday party without a present.

It was a well-rehearsed part. Benak was a genius in putting the two of them together. There was no doubt in my mind to that fact. The repeat business alone was part of the ploy. Off in the distance I spied a group of men watching the show that Milo was putting on for the crowd.

“You know so much,” Symond poked his walking stick up at a rather burly man. He was just another sellsword by the looks of him. The man was bristling with muscle and a long ponytail of hair braided and greased. He was heading out for an adventure. “Why don’t you finish the story?”

“Wait? What?” the man responded to Symond.

“Wait? What?” Symond mocked him. “That’s not what happened next!” The bent form of the story teller leapt up and stood as tall as the sellsword and stared him right in the eye with that incredible and awful visage, “that’s not what happened at all! When was the last time you were in church man? Do you know what happened next?”

“What?” Symond cupped his long warty hand around his large ear. “I don’t think they can hear you.” The sellsword put up his hands and sat. Symond stared at him as the hulking brute sat in shame.

“In that moment, in that exquisite singular moment, the Nameless One uttered one word that would summon His own greatness into existence. It was the first word, the only word that was uttered into the void with the Schacté. It was His own name. So powerful was His name that the Nameless One was shat into the void of law and chaos, of good and evil, of purity and infection.”

Go to Part 3

In the beginning...

2010-06-22T21:05:00.005-07:00

The wall is a comfortable relief from the scarred scrub and hilly plains of the Contested Lands. I can still taste the dirt in the back of my throat but relief is coming. I can see the bouncy serving girl with the orange hair coming with my beer. It had been too long since I’ve tasted the hoppy brew from Benak’s tap. I find it sad that I can relish the slightly sour tang that his beer provides the taste buds. However, my tour through the Contested Lands has brought a new vision, an expanded horizon if you will towards Benak’s brew.

Benak’s is little more than a taproom with a central fire pit; however there are no tables at Benak’s. He gave up on them long ago. There were too many fights by too many patrons with too few coins in their pouches to cover the costs. There are pillows now. Everyone eats and drinks seated on the pillows. I could easily just slide down the wall and fall asleep, but I’ve finally found who I’m looking for – the story teller and his accomplice.

From what I’ve been told, the old man is on Benak’s payroll. He’s a shill. The story teller and the bard keep the clientele coming back to Benak’s Blue Monkey, not the defining taste of the sour beer or the over spiced (and over priced) hummus and flatbread. It is the two that I’ve come to watch and from the excitement I can see and nearly feel in the crowd, the time is close for the story teller to perform.

The human girl wears silver on her freckled ankles. Her bare feet show nearly no wear or callous. The pigment on her toes is blue with flecks of gold. Flowing pantaloons of what seem to be the lightest of linen drape her body. She is both alluring and dangerous. Benak chose his serving maidens well. He always has.

A warm smile greets me as she hands me and oversized wooden cup full of the sour beer that my throat and tongue have been craving since I sat down against the wall closest to the fire pit. The girl has freckles on her nose and face. Her soft brown eyes are inviting me to flirt with her. She is a talented serving girl. If I were another man, I would drink to my fill and follow her straight into Hell if need be. I smile back at her and place a well worn opal into her hand.

“Right, sir,” she smiles down at me, “I’ll let Benak know that you have started a tab.” She bounds away and I cannot help but watch her maneuver through the crowd. She is a soft blue angel with brown eyes and I absently wonder where the freckles meet on her body.

My oversized cup is chilled. I don’t really want to know how Benak does it; I know that there is magic involved in the process rather than some fantastic feat of engineering. I can hear the soft tones coming from the guitar near the fire pit. It is a soft and complicated melody that hits at a foreboding nature. It is a grim and serious tone coming from the expert hands flying across six strings, which is an incredible feat on its own because the story teller’s partner is a lithe little Halfer by the name of Milo.

If the look on the Halfling’s face wasn’t so serious, it would almost be comical. The guitar that bard is willing into submission is nearly twice as tall as he is and yet, the Halfling has a command of the strings and frets. The soulful tones echo throughout the room catching everyone’s attention. I lean against the wall and let the Halfer’s music take me to where he needs me to be in order to hear the story teller.

It’s a bold tune that Milo is playing. It smooth in places, taking me to a memory of a warm day in spring when the stream has that sheen of sunshine that you want to jump into in order to cool off. Under Milo’s hands, the strings then bring an image of a chill winter’s night where all you want to do is lay in the lap of your loved one and let them stroke your hair. He is masterful.

I can feel the dirt and waste from the Contested Lands wearing off of me as Milo plucks and strums. The sour beer runs down my throat and wears away another few layers of exhaustion. The smell of the people are different out in the Contested Lands. It might be from the spice that they use in their cooking, it might be from the yaks that sleep in the same round yurts that the families sleep in, it might also just be the fact that the Clans of Barbarians seem to be proud of their own musk. It doesn’t matter though. Right now I’m in the Blue Monkey sipping on sour beer listening to a master bard and waiting for a story to begin.

Life is good and Darmon be praised that little roadhouses like this exist for travelers such as myself. After all, it is as the Wayfarers of Darmon say, “Smile. Tomorrow is another day.”

Tonight, in the Blue Monkey, they are absolutely correct. Sweet music and sour beer are mixing into an intoxicating elixir that is rushing through the crowd like lightning in the sky. There is a tension in the air that is intensifying as the halfling preens the strings and creates images and feelings without words.

A murmur is passing through the crowd. I sit up and peel my eyes open and leave the images and fantasies from Milo’s playing behind. It is now that the real show beginning. Legend has it that on the varied roads, both Milo and his partner Symond were making meager money separately. It was Benak who brought them both together.

Go to Part 2

The Cult of the Unspeakable One

2010-06-15T21:42:00.006-07:00

The religion of the Unspeakable One is one of madness, nihilism, human sacrifice, and evil acts too hideous to describe. It revels in suffering and all things unpleasant and hates goodness, light and mercy. The followers of the Unspeakable One hate life itself and seek to further the power of the Unspeakable One in order to bring it all to an end.

No greater threat exists in the world than these deranged, dark-hearted fanatics. In ages long past, the Unspeakable One was banished to the Lost City of Carcosa, where black stars hung on the horizon and where twin suns burned across the sky. All the other deities had to work in concert to banish the Unspeakable One in that far away, otherworldly prison near Lake Hali.

The Chosen of the Unspeakable One seek to free their evil and destructive deity so that he may consume all there is to devour and bring an end to all things.

In short, they are mad.

All paths have a source.

2010-06-15T01:36:00.004-07:00

"I started up and flung the book into the fireplace; the volume struck the barred grate and fell open on the hearth in the fire-light. If I had not caught a glimpse of the opening words in the second act I should never have finished it, but as I stooped to pick it up my eyes became riveted to the open page, and with a cry of terror, or perhaps it was of joy so poignant that I suffered in every nerve, I snatched the thing from the hearth and crept shaking to my bedroom, where I read it and reread it, and wept and laughed and trembled with a horror which at times assails me yet. This is the thing that troubles me, for I cannot forget Carcosa, where black stars hang in the heavens, where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the Lake of Hali, and my mind will bear forever the memory of the Pallid Mask."

Muhahaha!

New Players, New Paths

2010-06-14T18:56:00.002-07:00

So the game hasn't begun and there are already RETCONs (but is it really a RETCON if the game hasn't started?)! Player #1 has changed his mind. His Druid is now a Gnome from that same windswept and drought blasted plains. Player #2 has my Core Rulebook and is probably going to draft up a Monk.

My son seems interested in gaming and is going to probably draft up a combat Gnome of some nature. Gotta love the SRD's for gaining interest for the game with new players!

Plans are coming together!

Finding the Path

2010-06-12T21:17:00.002-07:00

Player #1 and I sat down tonight to work on concepts and flesh out the character for the upcoming Pathfinder game that I will be running. I had forgotten the excitement and wonder it was in fleshing out a new character with someone else. The world-building starts right then and there with the character back story.

The character went through a few iterations before it was settled to be an Elf Druid. Yes, rather archetypical until we get through the character building and back story. The Elf is not from the forest or typical Sylvan setting -- he's from the high plains with a small Gnomish community built into the village.

Nightshine was raised by an order of Sorcerers that draw their power from the elements. Then the drought came. The Season of Death, as Nightshine's people called the drought took his parents and his grandparents on his mother's side. The village's natural splendor was reduced to a pale imitation of what it once was. Still the Sorcerer’s of the Order of Sacred Path hunkered down within their den in an attempt to appease the God of Nature.

It was then that Nightshine left the village in order to find an answer and a calling that could not be denied. Leaving a great-grandmother, the grandparents on his father’s side, three sisters and two brothers (and an odd cousin or two) behind, a newly determined Elf left the windswept plains where buffalo, antelope, and cougars roamed free to find what his destiny was going to be.

Game day is going to be a blast.

Lists

2010-06-08T18:37:00.001-07:00

I’m on a lot of lists.

Email lists, distribution lists, black lists, friend lists, short lists, long lists shit lists, demographic lists, metric lists, and for quite a few I seem to be on an ignore list. So be it. I’ve been on both sides of that particular issue and I’m a firm believer that I’ve earned what I am getting.

There are things that I wish were unsaid and actions I wish were undone. In truth, people try to give me advice on how to not live in regret. I’m glad that they can perform that action. I haven’t been able to master that.

Things in my past haunt me. Seeds that I’ve sown are growing into bitter and hard-shelled fruits which have led to another crop of hard hearts and repression. Furthermore my own present and future are in question on a daily basis.

Too many things to keep track of.

Quite frankly, I’m tired of lists.

93°

2010-06-07T20:20:00.000-07:00

I just finished the walk. Don’t know how hot it was when I started just after sundown, but it was 93° when I got home. It’s bloody hot. The Great Green POS is already starting to overheat on the way home from work and it’s not even August.

I’m hoping to get a game up and running soon. I just don’t know whether or not to run Pathfinder, 3.5, or d20 Modern. There are so many ideas running through my head. I’ve got two on the hook now and hoping for more through word of mouth.

My blood sugars have balanced out from The Event. I’m glad I could get through the work it took to get them back to where I was beforehand. Gut hurts, feet hurt, but it’s a good kind of hurt. At least that is something I can control.

Work is turning into a grind rather than something I enjoy. For those of you in the know, I don’t have to describe it. I’m in a rather difficult position between Scylla and Charibdis. I’ll have to read up on how Odysseus got through that one later. Homer may prove insightful instead of Sun Tsu.

Currently...

2010-06-05T22:53:00.003-07:00

OK... Son #1 is married to now Daughter #1. It was a grand affair which culminated in my 40th Birthday.

Son #2 is (knock wood) gainfully employed and (hopefully) on the path onto getting his own place in order for me to perform the upgrades to the house. I've a metric fzck-ton of laminate tiles housed in my office and I need to get the carpets ripped out and the tile down.

And finish several works in progress.

And control my T2 Diabetes.

I've been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender, Torchwood and Kolchak: The Nightstalker via my Wii and Netflix. Several muddled ideas are roaming around in the form of possible RPG scenarios.

Walking has been a big part of my routine. Two miles a day now. Glee. It still takes me 35 to 40 ish minutes to complete the route, but at least I'm moving my bulk about.

I want to game. I have an OVERWHELMING need to game. I will arrange this somehow.

A Tale of Three

2010-05-09T22:16:00.001-07:00

I know three different people who are on my mind almost constantly of late. The first one I have never met in meat-space, the second I haven’t seen since last fall, and the third I speak to quite regularly in meat-space. All three are going through tough times and although I know that there is nothing that I can do for my three friends, I want to be there for them, to lend them a hand, to let them know that they are not alone, to stand nearby just in case they need a kind word or a humorous, yet inappropriate, joke or a stalwart shadow that they can rely upon.

The friend I met in cyberspace is going through a horrifically troubling time. He and his family are being put through the gauntlet. This pious man and his family walk the path of righteousness like few others that I know. They are not judgmental, they are kind, and they even recycle. And yet I cannot help but wonder (as my mind often does in these kinds of situations) why exactly they are put upon the path of Job?

I have told my friend that I would break a long-standing issue I had with the God of Abraham, the God of the Israelites, the God of Moses and his wandering tribes and pray for his family. I’ve done my research and found the appropriate prayer I would invoke for his family.

Lord God,
Remember Christ your Son who is peace itself
and who has washed away our hatred with His blood.
Because you love all men and women,
look with mercy on all who are engaged in battle.
Banish the violence and evil within all combatants
so that one day, we may all deserve to be
called your sons and your daughters.
Grant this through Christ our Lord.

My second friend is a leader, thinker and role-model. He would be embarrassed to admit the third, but he is. He is humble when appropriate and vigilant when necessary. He has evolved and reinvented himself more times that I would care to admit (or probably even know about), yet his insight is a constant.

His path is a difficult one as well. His loss was also not of his own choosing, but still he is handling it with as much grace and dignity as can be expected. He has been known as both demon and angel to those around him. For me, he is the ghost who walks within worlds.

My friend has a secure hold on his heart and when betrayed, challenges himself to follow the path of enlightenment rather than that of revenge. He is action when inaction is the norm and calm when the seas are tumultuous. I respect him dearly and he is my brother.

I’m again not sure of how he earned the place on his particular path, but that is a philosophical discussion that I may entreat upon him some other time. In my opinion, he deserves more. He might disagree with me quoting something from an ancient Buddhist text that I may or may not be acquainted.

For him I pray as well.

We are a link in Amidas golden chain of love that stretches around the world.
We will keep our link bright and strong.
We will be kind and gentle to every living thing.
We will protect all who are weaker than ourselves.
We will think pure and beautiful thoughts.
We will say pure and beautiful words.
We will do pure and beautiful deeds.
May every link in Amidas chain of love be bright and strong, and may we all attain perfect peace.
Namo Amida Buddha.

The last friend I will speak about in this post has, like my other two friends, had a bombshell dropped upon her life that has moved her into the shadowy recesses of an emotional roller coaster that has been put into high gear without brakes. It is a severe blow that was undercut nearly two decades of trust that was built. Unfortunately, hers is no the only life that has been thrown into disarray. There are children to be thought of as well.

I’m not quite sure what moves me more about her situation. It could be the fact that there is a small portion of her story that plucks upon the heartstrings of deeply recessed memories of my own with my own father and step-father and how the two of them treated my mother. It could also be the fact that now that I am grown with a family of my own, I couldn’t see me undercutting my relationship in such a way in which my friend has been treated.

It could also be the fact that I have played many, many roles in my life and have been on many different sides of the arguments presented by her. I have been the adulterer in my past and I have been the victim. I will atone for my own sins when it comes to my own reckoning, but I am quite sure that my friend did not deserve the well-placed blow to her psyche.

For her I will also pray.

Let us know peace.
For as long as the moon shall rise,
For as long as the rivers shall flow,
For as long as the sun shall shine,
For as long as the grass shall grow,
Let us know peace.

These are but three special people in my life and they are going through troubled times. I cannot help but to think how they were there for me when I needed them and although they remain nameless for their own privacy, they know who they are.

Peace be with all of you friends. Know that you’re not alone.

Gong Yi Tanpai!

2010-04-24T20:00:00.002-07:00

Thousands of years ago a furious battle was waged between the great and noble Xiaolin Dragon Dashi and the evil Heylin witch Wuya. This was the first Xiaolin Showdown. Wuya pitted her dark magic against Dashi and his mystical power objects, the Shen Gong Wu. In the end, Dashi triumphed and Wuya was forever imprisoned in a simple wooden puzzle box. The threat averted, Dashi spread his Shen Gong Wu around the Earth. For generations, they have secretly maintained the balance of good and evil. And the long line of Xiaolin Dragons has stood ready to face evil should that balance ever shift.

Mantis Flip Coin (Device)

Powers: Leaping/Bouncing 3, Super Edge: Acrobatic, Super Trait: Agility 5
Trappings: The Mantis Flip Coin requires activation from the user. They must call upon the power by yelling, "Mantis Flip Coin!" After which the user can do high jumps and flips, and can also twist and turn in midair.

Two-Ton Tunic (Device)

Powers: Armor 2, Super Attribute: Vigor 1, Toughness 1.
Trappings: The Two-Ton Tunic requires activation from the user. They must call upon the power by yelling, "Two-Ton Tunic!" When activated, the Two-Ton Tunic can block all sorts of attacks, but it is very heavy giving the user a penalty of -2 to all combat and movement rolls while wearing the Two-Ton Tunic. Provides +6 to Armor and +2 to Toughness while in use.

Eye of Dashi (Device)

Powers: Ranged Attack/Elemental Trick: Electricity 2, Non-Lethal
Trappings: The Eye of Dashi requires activation from the user. They must call upon the power by yelling, "Eye of Dashi!" It is a pendant with a red ruby in the center that releases bolts of electricity and also generates unlimited power into a desired object.

For use with Savage Worlds: Explorer's Edition and Necessary Evil. Logos and concepts used without permission.

Gong Yi Tanpai!

2010-04-17T20:00:00.003-07:00

Jacqueline Spicer, Evil Girl Genius (Novice)

Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d10, Spirit d4, Strength d6, Vigor d4

Charisma: 0, Pace: 6", Parry: 7, Toughness: 4

Skills: Fighting d10, Gambling d10, Knowledge (Computers) d10, (Engineering) d10, Lockpicking d8, Notice d12, Piloting d8, Repair d10, Taunt 10

Edges: Arcane Background: Super Powers, McGyver

Hindrances: Quirk (Must correct everyone with use of 'Evil GIRL Genius,' not just 'Evil Genius'), Stubborn

Powers: Invent 5

Spicer is a recurring villain along with Wuya for the Xiaolin Dragons. She often uses her Invent 5 skill to swarm the heroes with her Minion Jaq Bots(see below) when she has painted herself into a corner. She also has a wide variety of weaponry that she could cobble together including her signature twin-prop helicopter backpack!

Jaq Bot (Minion)

Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d4, Spirit d6, Strength d8, Vigor d8

Charisma: 0, Pace: 6", Parry: 6, Toughness: 6

Skills: Fighting d8, Notice d6, Shooting d6, Throwing d6

Equipment: As the Game Master sees fit. Usually outfitted with buzzing sawblades or drillbits. Often the Jaq Bots will have laser weaponry as a holdout.

For use with Savage Worlds: Explorer's Edition and Necessary Evil. Logos and concepts used without permission.

Gong Yi Tanpai!

2010-04-10T20:00:00.002-07:00

Dragon of the Earth (Novice)

Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d4, Spirit d4, Strength d8, Vigor d8

Charisma: 0, Pace: 6", Parry: 6, Toughness: 7

Skills: Climbing d8, Fighting d8, Guts d6, Knowledge: (Shen Gong Wu) d6, Riding d8, Stealth d8, Survival d6, Tracking d6

Edges: Arcane Background: Super Powers, Brawny

Hindrances: Pacifist, Cautious

Powers: Seismic Rage(Earthquake 2/Earthshake, Trigger)
Trappings: The Dragon of Earth can make the very Earth tremble.

For use with Savage Worlds: Explorer's Edition and Necessary Evil. Logos and concepts used without permission.

Finding Paths: Lady Brendylln

2010-04-05T09:00:00.001-07:00

Lady Brendylln Hollyspear

Female Elf Sorcerer 1
LN Medium Humanoid
Init +2; Senses Low-light Vision, Perception +7

DEFENSE

AC 12, Touch 12, Flat-footed 10
HP 5
Fort -2, Ref +2, Will +3; +2 vs. enchantment spells and effects
Immune magical sleep effects

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft.
Melee Elven Curved Blade (1d10)
Ranged Sling (1d4)
Special Attacks Laughing Touch 5x/Day
Sorcerer Spells

Level 0: Daze, Detect Magic, Light, Read Magic

Level 1: Mage Armor, Magic Missle

STATISTICS

Str 12, Dex 15, Con 6, Int 15, Wis 12, Cha 15
Base Atk +0; CMB 1; CMD 2
Feats Eschew Materials, Silent Spell
Skills Appraise +6, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Perception +7, Spellcraft +6
Languages Common, Elven, Goblin, Dwarven
Gear Elven Curve Blade, Sling and Bullets (10), Steel Mirror, Vial of Black Ink, Ink Pen, Parchment (4), Signet Ring, Merchant’s Scale, Backpack, Traveler’s Outfit, 15 gp

HISTORY

Lady Brendylln Hollyspear didn’t ask for the responsibility of a trading house at her tender age, nor did she ask for the Fey Blood coursing throughout her body to manifest in such a drastic manner. However, much like in the business world, she learned to take what assets she was given and to work with them.

The fact that she was born into nobility didn’t often cross Lady Brendylln’s mind. It was a simple fact that her family had been part of the ruling class of Aeroch Nor for generations. During the heyday of the elven city, the Hollyspears had been responsible for some of the most ambitious building projects in the history of the city, most notably the Arcenspire Tower which shone like a beacon from the center of the city.

Times were not as they were in the past.

A new family had favor in the Royal Court – the Duskweavers. For decades the family’s patriarch Lord Petice had been petitioning for greater favor within the Royal Court by downplaying how the Hollyspears had turned a blind eye to too many things.

It was two things that kept coming out of Lord Petice Duskweaver’s mouth. The first was how the Hollyspears had allowed the Monks and Druids of the Frosted Willow free trade without restrictions within Aeroch Nor. As a sainted monastery, the Hollyspears allowed the Order of the Frosted Willow immunity to the tariffs that were in place for the rest of the Trade Guild. Second was the fact that a half breed was allowed sanctuary in the monastery instead of being executed when being found.

Lady Brendylln’s Curse, as the rest of the Royal Court called her sorcery, manifested itself when she and a few of her family’s hirelings were attacked on a trade mission through dwarven territory deep in the delves underneath the mountains.

Beaten and bruised, Lady Brendylln refused to give in to her captors and prayed to whatever gods would answer. She didn’t count on the ghost of her ancestor to answer the call. The dark shrieking in the damp caverns struck so much fear in Lady Brendylln’s heart that she collapsed. As Lady Brendylln struggled to remain conscious, she heard a small voice in her head.

“Let me in, and I will show you power beyond belief.”

“No.”

“Then you shall die great-grand-daughter.” The voice made a sound of pity somehow.

“No.” Lady Brendylln remembered saying.

“There is no choice!” the voice yelled, “I will have your body and you will survive. No Hollyspear shall die to the likes of them! By my name as Lady Alynis Hollyspear the Fey, they shall not have you!”

Lady Brendylln woke with Lady Alynis’ ring on her finger and a new power brimming in her blood. The Duskweavers never saw her the same ever since. The young elf knew she would never be the same either.

Gong Yi Tanpai!

2010-04-03T20:00:00.001-07:00

Dragon of the Fire(Novice)

Attributes: Agility d8, Smarts d6, Spirit d4, Strength d4, Vigor d8

Charisma: 0, Pace: 8", Parry: 7, Toughness: 6

Skills: Fighting d10, Guts 6, Investigation d8, Knowledge: (Computers) d8, (Shen Gong Wu) d8, Repair d6, Streetwise d8, Tracking d8

Edges: Arcane Background: Super Powers, Fleet Footed

Hindrances: Loyal, Stubborn

Powers: Flame Zen (Energy Control: Fire/Large Burst)
Trappings: The Dragon of Fire can control the element of fire to her advantage.

For use with Savage Worlds: Explorer's Edition and Necessary Evil. Logos and concepts used without permission.

Finding Paths: Graven the Shepherd

2010-03-29T21:00:00.002-07:00

Graven

Male Half-Elf Monk 1
LN Medium Humanoid
Init +2; Senses Low-light Vision, Perception +7

DEFENSE

AC 13, Touch 12, Flat-footed 10
HP 5
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +3; +2 vs. enchantment spells and effects
Immune magical sleep effects

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft.
Melee Nunchaku (1d6), Dagger (1d6), Unarmed Strike (1d6)
Ranged Dagger (1d6), Shuriken (1d2)
Special Attacks Flurry of Blows, Stunning Fist, Unarmed Strike

STATISTICS

Str 11, Dex 15, Con 11, Int 15, Wis 12, Cha 10
Base Atk +0 (-1/-1); CMB 2; CMD 2
Feats Agile Maneuvers, Combat Reflexes
Skills Acrobatics +6, Intimidate +4, Knowledge (Religion) +6, Perception +7, Profession (Shepherd) +5, Sense Motive +5
Languages Common, Elven, Goblin, Dwarven
Gear 2 pair nunchaku, 3 daggers, 40 shuriken, Monk’s Outfit, Backpack, 10 gp

HISTORY

Graven Udenthar was found on the doorstep of the Order of the Frosted Willow when he was a newborn. The monks at the monastery recognized the all-too-human traits left on the babe and knew immediately why he was left in their care. He was abandoned by the embarrassed parents of an unfortunate union between two races.

The Elder Monks and Druids of the Order deliberated and came to the only conclusion that would appeal to the foundations that was laid out by Saint Alithyra who created the order with her husband Saint Riclamin. Graven’s younger years were composed of training and dedication to the Order of the Frosted Willow.

As his training progressed, Graven showed competence in his dexterity and was soon bounding across the mountain along with the herds of sheep maintained by the monks and druids. He learned of trade and commerce as the Order manufactured the wool for the nearby elven city of Aeroch Nor. It was then that Graven saw the darker side of the Sylvan race. The attack came too suddenly.

Graven and his master jumped from the overstuffed wagon as the wall of fire appeared in front of the overstuffed wagon of dyed wool. The horses reared up as Graven’s master tried to calm the beasts. Graven watched the darkness and saw the bandits from the seat of the wagon. They wanted the wool for themselves.

He and his master fought bravely against the bandits to no avail. When the full blood elves found that there was a ‘half-human’ in their midst, a malevolent streak rose from them like an ugly shadow across the rocky slopes. Their frowns turned as dark as the night as their wicked smiles spread across their faces. When Graven finally woke from the beating he had taken, the smell of burned wool choked the small glen.

Graven woke alone, finding his master dead.

As he made his way back to the safety of the cloistered walls of the Order of the Willow, the Elders looked upon Graven with sad faces and understanding. Graven’s skin and bones healed, but the scars given to him by the elves from Aeroch Nor still bled and reflected in Graven’s in the tenacity and ferocity of his training.

No longer was Graven pulling his punches and understanding the balance of good and evil, of life and death. Graven was turning more and more into the hardness of the mountain instead of the smooth flow of the river. It was then that Graven was told it was time for him to leave the monastery.

“One cannot fill a cup that was already full.” They told him with faces that reflected their sadness and disappointment. He had no choice but to leave the home he had known for four decades and go out into the world. His small light would have to shine in the darkness and hope to grow.

Gong Yi Tanpai!

2010-03-27T20:00:00.006-07:00

Dragon of the Air(Novice)

Attributes: Agility d6, Smarts d8, Spirit d8, Strength d4, Vigor d4

Charisma: 2, Pace: 6", Parry: 6, Toughness: 4

Skills: Fighting d8, Gambling d8, Guts d8, Knowledge (Shen Gong Wu) d8, Notice d10, Persuasion d10, Stealth d8, Streetwise d10, Taunt d10

Edges: Arcane Background: Super Powers, Charasmatic

Hindrances: Overconfident

Powers: Whirlwind Strike (Ranged Attack 2/Area Effect)
Trappings: A powerful blast of air follows the Dragon of Air's punches or kicks can hit opponents.

For use with Savage Worlds: Explorer's Edition and Necessary Evil. Logos and concepts used without permission.

Gong Yi Tanpai!

2010-03-20T19:06:00.018-07:00

Dragon of the Water (Novice)

Attributes: Agility d10, Smarts d4, Spirit d4, Strength d6, Vigor d6

Charisma: 0, Pace: 6", Parry: 8 Toughness: 5

Skills: Climbing d8, Fighting d12, Guts d6, Healing d6, Intimidation d4, Knowledge: (Shen Gong Wu) d6, Riding d12, Throwing d12

Edges: Arcane Background: Super Powers, First Strike

Hindrances: Heroic

Powers: Tsunami Strike (Melee Attack 2/Reach 3)
Trappings: A powerful wave of water follows the Dragon of Water's punches or kicks can hit opponents to a range of 3" of 2d6 damage.

For use with Savage Worlds: Explorer's Edition and Necessary Evil. Logos and concepts used without permission.