Nice wall you have there.

The journal of Isabella Two Water,
Lady of the Keep

It was a year ago today that we were first attacked by the lich.

We have not ascertained it's port yet, but it does have one.

The scouts report of finding the bones that speak of lost battles where none were before.

There are many tales of it's ghost ship sitting off coast moments before whole villages are slaughtered.

Trade ships vanish on moonless nights and not a soul returns.

No wreckage found.

It is said to glide mastless through the night.

All rumors and hearsay, but they are so numerous there must be some truth buried in them.

I remember the night two falls past at the new outer walls.

  A great deformed giant stepped out of the darkness and began bashing against the walls of the outer defenses.

The guard mobilized slowly.  Months of quiet and a cool night with warm fires and full bellies often make fresh cadets forget what it means to be on duty.

It is no small blessing that despite these impediments the defenders were quick to their tasks.

   The deformed giant bashed away at the walls as the steamer stepped around the corner and began sawing away at it.   The first explosion struck the tower, sending shards of lumber burning into the night.  Several of the guard were caught in the blast but where able to get clear as the burning form of the deformed giant fell against the wall.
The captain, piloting the lumber yards steamer, caught sight of the crude orcan powder canisters strapped to a collar around it's neck.  Quick thinking the Captain took heaved the giant into a nearby hillside.

The only alert we had to the attack was an explorer examining a crevasse they had discovered some weeks previous.  The masons had just finished laying the ground work for a massive stone door hours earlier when the workers shoring the interior came screaming from it's confines. One of the guardsman showed particular courage by leading two of his cohort into the dark confines of the corridor and into massing goblin forces.

Above ground fire balls lit up the night and started wild fires in the tree line.  It pushed  the defenses back a few yards but the after math of the battle provided excuse to have the merchants who move in and out of the ports to pay a slightly higher tax over the following summer.

The young guardsman that cleared the tunnels was awarded with his own command over a small hill top north and west of the city.  The construction of the tower goes slowly, but a small regiment stays camped near it's walls while the workers winter in the city.

It is important to note that with the reconstruction of the new tower walls to replace those burned in the battle afforded the scouts the ability to find where the ship had docked and figure out how it slipped so silently into the night.

It has been months since any sightings of the the phantom ship.

One of the garrisons lieutenants was caught in a blast manning  a catapult on the hilltop.
A stalwart fellow says that  sensed necrotic magic that evening and feels a similar presence blowing on the winter winds.

Shut down complete.

Well, that was strangely cathartic and terrifying at the same time.
After trying to reconnect with old friends and looking over my facebook page yesterday I realized that that site, for me, was just holding on to a past life that doesn't exist anymore.
Facebook is neat.
But you know.
It didn't matter.
I opened it originally to reconnect with old friends.
It did the opposite of that.
Drove my old friends away, made a few new friends.
But mostly it was a professional side of me that really doesn't exist anymore.
A side of me that I want back.
But in light of my own life and choices.
The fact that another life long goal, rather than becoming the career that I had hoped it would be was only so much ash in my mouth.
So many lies and hidden agendas and fake people.
That's why I stayed at the library rather than pursuing a career in the theater in this valley.
Because the library was real, the library was genuine.
The world of photo shots, models, relative success, and living comfortably.
Well all of that, that's was the dream.
Now the dream.
Is just to live in peace somewhere.
Maybe have a little cafe or shop in a small town where the locals only know me as the Sandwich guy making perfectly ordinary beast sandwiches.
Then foraying out in costume to go and do and be a real life superhero again.

Because hiding in my fortress of solitude is no longer an option.

So long facebooks, catch you on the flip flops.

~End Transmission.

Time keeps on slipping...

Slipping....into the future.

Yup.

My writing is starting to make the beautiful slide from, hey look at me to, hey look at this.
Neat.

Kids man.
They bring out the best in this old junk yard dog.
Should I have my own?
Probably not.
I like playing with them.
Teaching them things.
Showing them what's up.
But I'm still a little to selfish for them.
Selfish for myself.
But if the right one came along and asked the right questions in the right way I'd be convinced.
But those sort of conversations don't happen over night.
Or a couple of nights.

But at the end of the day.
What do we do?
Nothing yet.
Still pulling things together.
Notes, guildies, plans.

Last time I tried this, the pulling things together bit, I informed my guildies and trusted allies that I still had a lot of homework and growing to do.

Well kiddos.  I've grown, a bit, but not much.  Did my homework though.  More of it than I"d have liked. But did it.
So it's time to unite.
Build a New Guild Hall.
Set up shop and then retire to Vallhalla and feast until Ragnarok.
Are ya'all ready.
I sure as hell am.

Gotta muster the troops and fight the good fight first.
Cheese and crackers Ace. What are we doing this time?
Same thing we do every day Brian.
Try to take over the world.

~End Transmission 

Old tricks, new dog.

This is odd.
Using my blog to retrain my left hand is frustrating to say the least.
I broke it at work a few years ago.
Clever me fixed the bone, but never rehabbed the hand as well as I should have.
So,  there's that.
I've built up a fair amount of strength.
But as this frustratingly laborious piece suggests; I have failed to do it adequately enough to make this current form of input an acceptable means of communication.
On the other hand...Ha, I have my phone set up like a tricorder.

So that's kind of nice.

It might be good to have a fun topic next time to.
I'm crap at picking those.
But.
At least I can be honest when I say that I usually...well...sometimes, know what I'm doing.

It is easier to talk to my phone now, which is nice.

But still weird since I'm a little gun shy about dictation.

Speaking my thoughts comes naturally, doing it kindly does not.

So, then.
Where do I go from there?
Usually I follow the lead of my dance partner.
Let them steer the topic.
And respond accordingly.
Problem is, I can be bullhead ed and often interrupt...I've been practicing.
Learning to be more communicative.
Less opaque.
And more up front.
Still working on all of that.
But I'm getting better.
Hell, I'm even getting better at speaking aloud again.
I've always felt more at home behind a keyboard than speaking aloud.
And felt safer moving than sitting still.
So...yeah...akwerd sauce to say the least.

I'm getting better at not breaking character though.  It helps to have motivation.

Well. My hand is starting to ache.
So, from that I should start wrapping this up.
Stay safe out there disco kittens.

End Transmission

Thanking for Thinking

Yay holidays!

Well it's been one of those years I guess.

The kind where the world shudders to a halt and holds it's breath for the events to come.
And if the beginning of the holiday season is any indication of how the new year is going to ring it's self in then...well...it might be better for me to duck and cover than run at the holidays with any fervor.

Long story short...staying where I'm at is not an option.
Jobs I want are not hiring, jobs available don't pay enough, and then of course there's the whole thing about not having any formal degrees.
Gad that's annoying.
Did the math on the school part.  
Unless I get a full on scholarship, grant, or some other sort of thing there's no way I can make earning a college degree profitable with my age and the costs of higher education, while still trying to find ways to pay the bills.

"You're supposed to work hard for your education so that you can get a job."
"No...jeeze.  Haven't ya'll figured this out yet?"  

Education is needed to prepare for a job.
Not to do the job.
Higher Education is for those that wish to continue learning/studying.
Not work.
Colleges and Universities aren't about learning to do jobs. (mostly)
They're about networking and meeting the people you might be doing some of these jobs with or for.
It's silly.

Bitter much?
This guy?
Na.
Just a chip on my shoulder the size of an aircraft carrier and no way to brush it off.

Back to Business

What am I going to be writing on this thing over the next few weeks?
Not a clue.
I have a lot of ideas bouncing around in my brain pan, but nothing concrete and mostly only achievable on my own.
I've got a lot of notes for stories and topics and the like.
Rough drafts here and there.
But there in lies the problem.
I can spend weeks tapping away at these keys with proper motivation and completely loose track of time.
But there's the thing.
Motivation.
Writing things that people will never read is fun and all but I have mountains of that already.

So....I guess...for a little while.
Daily musing like this.
Non-sequitur rantings on whatever the topic of the day is.

Assuming of course I stop moving long enough to sit down in front of my keyboard to hammer out something worthwhile.

Goals for the Next Year?
Find an Editor for my writing and maybe publish something.


Relocate and restart..
Why this one?
It's weird.
Every time I live somewhere long enough that people start noticing me for any reason I start feeling uncomfortable.
Because I feel like I'm not living up to the potential I could.
Or not worthy of whatever accolades might be set in front of me.
Or the place just isn't safe for myself or my friends.
Or all of the above a
Or one of a million other reasons insecure people decide to run for the hills rather than stay in the rut of the day to day.

So what's the plan?
 The real plan for the coming year?
Regardless of who's with, against, or indifferent to my actions and motivations...

"A captains goal is simple: find a crew, find a job, keep flying."

~End Transmission~

The Old Part

How many pages have I typed that never saw daylight?

How many idle conversations had with myself as such?

How many of them without paper in the typewriter?

More than a lot but less than a few.

After these messages...we'll be right back.

Pew.

Curiosity Killed the Cat

So.
My stance on Islam.
In other words.
My stance on Religion.
The one thing that I learned about Mohammad.
From the texts.
To the followers.
To the American People.

"He was a warrior that let his sword sit long enough for his pen to become sharp."

"How did he Pass?"

"I do not know."

"It is none of my business."

"Mine is listening."

"And accepting."

"When sheltering from a storm."

"The hope is for;
Food.
Water.
Shelter."

"And maybe a story to listen to/tell."


Now.

Ask me why I am "unwilling" to listen to the language of my "enemy?"
Before I answer.
I will ask you what he said.
Then ask him to show me.