I wrote this for a contest that I guess never happened. Don't know what went wrong, but the site went dead. Anyway, I've been somewhat reluctant to post it. I guess part of me would much rather be critiqued by people who don't know me than by those who do. Anyway. Not completely polished as I'd like to, but I haven't really been willing to devote much time to it since nobody has seen it. Enough stalling, I suppose. If you read this, and have any opinion on it whatsoever, I'd certainly like to hear from you. Be warned, it is a bit long. Without anymore stalling (for real, this time)...Validon
The sky was dark and the land was covered in a deep fog. Of course, the sky was always dark and the land was always covered in fog in the Greymarsh. Even so, he knew it was night. The entire day had been quiet. Who would have believed, that even in this dark and abysmal place, the dead would bother to wait for nightfall before stirring? But they had, as if knowing who had come for them. Maybe they did.
Validon Torresh, Paladin of the Holy Order of the Sun, in service to Radias, the Lord of Daylight, Guardian of Light and Truth. He laughed as he thought to himself. There was never any daylight here. Why had they even come?
He was leading one squad of the Order’s soldiers, in concert with three other Sergeants, who were all following Lieutenant Commander Dreson’s crusade into the marsh. “For Glory and Honor!” the Commander had said. The only glory to be found in this hole would be leaving it behind.
Commander Dreson believed that expelling and destroying the undead who made this place home would be a great service to Radias, as well as to all men. “Destroying Evil and bringing Light into Darkness! What greater calling could there be in service to He Who Always Shines?” But the ultimate reality was far more grim than any had believed. This swampy land was beyond natural circumstance. Dreariness seemed to rise from the depths, and the land itself seemed to refuse light. Torches simply could not be lit, and even magical lights seemed to fizzle out before they should. Even when a source of light was produced, it only reached a few feet in any direction before being overpowered by the great mist that hung over the land like a ghost.
Even so, it had been quiet since they had arrived. Three days, and they had only run into a couple of mindless swamp husks, zombies with the waterlogged bodies of people who had drowned in the boggy pools. Dreson believed the undead were simply afraid to meet them in battle, fearing their destruction in the wake of “Justice”. Validon simply believed they were biding their time. Zombies do not fear men; they seek all life, with hunger, and are not sated until destroyed. The only reason they would avoid the soldiers was if they were directed by some greater, intelligent force. Though he tried to explain as much to Dreson, the Commander found it laughable that undead would resort to tactics, that they could be organized. When the attack came, the men were taken almost completely by surprise.
If not for their training, it would have been a complete massacre. However, they sensed it before it came. Evil, encroaching around them, from all directions. Powerful evil, the unmistakable taint of the undead. Validon just barely had time to place his men in a defensive formation before they attacked.
Ghouls came first. Wicked creatures, with ragged teeth and diseased claws, running through the mist. One lunged at Validon and nearly made contact before he brushed it aside with his blade. He sidestepped another and brought his sword down through its back, severing it in two. His men fought similarly, and although one went down, paralyzed by the creatures’ attacks, they slew nearly twenty.
As more poured through the fog, however, Validon noticed another presence. Dark shadows, twisting in strange directions on the ground. “Wraiths!” he cried, making a slice seemingly through open air where the shadow had been. Though he felt no resistance as one would expect from striking an enemy, he knew he had wounded the creature because of its painful cry. He swung twice, three times, and felt the presence of the creature leave. Whether destroyed or fleeing, he was uncertain, but had no time to bother worrying.
Zombies crept out of the mist, an army, around the men. By now, the forty strong force had lost nearly a quarter, either to debilitating sickness or outright death, and there was no means of retreat. Arrows started to fly out of the mist and one found its mark in the chest of Sergeant Kylin, the leader of the second squad. He continued to fight on for a moment, slaying two more zombies and a ghoul, but as he fell to one knee he knew the damage was done.
Commander Dreson, finally getting some bearing, took the hill above the rudimentary campsite, and threw a light bomb into the air. A brilliant flash, though dulled by the fog, lit up the air above him for a few moments, enough to get the attention of the undead mob, who started up the hill after him. When the first began to close, he unleashed the holy power of Radias from his finger tips. Holy light, this undaunted by the sheer darkness, seared through zombie, ghoul, and wraith alike. Arrows continued to pour into the area, and men fell, but the burning at the top of the hill and the fleeing of the undead that were not immediately destroyed gave Validon some hope. It was quickly dashed when the tip of a blade plunged out of Dreson’s chest. The Commander looked down, unable to grasp the pain he felt which seemed to come from within.
“Foolish mortals,” came a powerful voice from behind him. “I am the Lord of Greymarsh, and no warriors, crusaders, soldiers, or servants of a weak deity can claim my realm!”
The vampire stepped out from behind Dreson, pulled his blade free and sliced quickly across his neck. The holy light faded from the Commander’s fingers, and then his body fell to the ground. The vampire began to chant some unintelligible words as the remaining undead, and more from further in the swamp, began to close once again around the men.
“If we take the vampire down, the horde will scatter!” Validon heard himself say, not sure if he believed it. It was obvious that this was the source of intelligence that he had predicted, directing the other creatures’ movements and plotting the attack. Even so, it looked unlikely that any of them would survive this sort of fight. Nevertheless, if they were to die, they might as well do so fighting at their best.
He sprinted up the hill, avoiding some of the monsters and slashing at others, all in an effort to reach the vampire lord before falling in battle. He took an arrow in the side, but kept going. Another bounced off his steel helm, and a third nicked off his breastplate. He and a small host of men made it to the hill, merely ten feet from the vampire, when it smiled and laughed.
Out of his fingers the vampire fired a large jet of flame. It flew a ways past Validon and exploded in fire, sending men flying or hurtling into the ground below. Validon was knocked to his back, and attempted to issue some call of retreat. He could not hear over the sound of the explosion, which seemed to echo in the depths of the marsh. He then saw the vampire over him, smiling once again, bringing his boot down to his face. All was dark…
He awoke. No, that was not precisely correct. He felt as if he had always been awake, but had just now become aware. Still, everything seemed distant. He could tell it was no dream, but his senses were…blurry. Light and colors dragged as he glanced around. A sound of thunder, seemingly so distant as to be miles away. And even though he was laying on the floor, wearing his armor, there was no sensation of contact. He barely felt anything at all.
The floor? He rose, silently. He remembered nothing. He wondered where he was, but it quickly occurred to him that it was familiar. The details were irrelevant. As he looked at the dull grey stone walls and the general state of murkiness around him he felt oddly at ease. And precisely that sense of security bothered him. Why should he feel comfortable in such an abysmal place? He walked out the doorway into a long corridor.
Apparently he was in a prison or dungeon of some kind. It was cold and damp, but even though there were no windows he could see as if it were day. Colors were grim, almost nonexistent, except for the mildew and lichens that grew on the stone floor and walls. Prison cells, with doors long since rotted or rusted away, went on seemingly forever. Eventually, not remembering exactly how long he had been walking, he came to an upward sloped section that lead into a larger room.
Striding incautiously into the room, he saw that he was in what was once no doubt a glorious castle. A great stone mosaic, now worn partially away, displayed what appeared to be some great battle or adventure now long past. Water-rotted tapestries hung from the ceiling, and two stained glass windows faced him, showing what appeared to be some sort of king or lord. He instinctively turned left, feeling as though he was somehow called in that direction, though he was unsure what his reasons were. He was beginning to feel that he did not have full control over his body. However, when he thought about trying to resist, he could feel no great impulse to do so. He simply did not have the will to do otherwise.
He walked into what once was no doubt a beautiful throne room, with rotten wood carvings still hanging on the wall, water-stained portraits, and gold and silver decorative sculptures. In the center of the room stood a great marble throne, and in that throne sat a man. His dark black hair was closely cropped to his pale skinned head, and his face showed feral, predatory lines.
Validon walked to the front of the throne and lowered to one knee in front of his lord. In the back of his head, he could not quite understand what he was doing, but felt no urge to resist.
“What do you wish of me, my Lord?” he asked, still not completely sure of what he was doing here, or where exactly “here” was.
“Validon Torresh, my most trusted servant. I have called you because the time is nigh upon us.”
“Time for what, my Lord?”
“Time for war,” the man answered, with a slight flourish of his wrist. “Time for I, the Lord of Greymarsh, to recapture our glory! Time for you, my champion, to lead my army into battle and victory!”
Validon, thought, only for a moment. “Glory.” That word was familiar, with some sort of negative connotation. Never mind. He set it aside.
“Of course, my Lord. Your will is mine. What, precisely, would you have me do?”
“Our army is prepared to follow you into the neighboring kingdom of Mistavel. You will have ample forces to succeed in your attack. They will suspect nothing. We have bode our time long enough. We will strike a blow so heavy they shall never recover. And with you leading, they will fall.”
Again, Validon thought. Mistavel? Something in his mind suggested he owed allegiance to Mistavel, although he could not place it in his mind.
“Mistavel, my Lord? They are powerful. Their walls have lasted through many a siege, and their army has been tempered by years of war with the northern barbarians. Forgive me, but is this wise?”
“Ha. Of course, my friend. You have studied them for years, unlocking the secrets to their defenses. Between the element of surprise and your knowledge, we shall not fail.”
It made sense. Validon recognized Mistavel because he had been studying them, preparing for war. But, a stark image came to mind, of armored cavalrymen with silver breastplates bearing the standard of a golden rayed star upon their chests. The Holy Order of the Sun.
“What of the Order, my Lord? They are powerful warriors, each as skilled as a dozen men. Can they be bested?”
“Ah. Our most powerful foes. It was they who first drove us into obscurity. They stole our honor and poisoned our lands. We will answer them in kind. They will be destroyed by your hand.”
At this, Validon felt a great sense of pride. He would lead the charge to destroy the great foe, the ancient enemy of all that they stood for. But there was also some other feeling. A sense of longing and camaraderie. Memories of standing with men bearing the battle standard. A golden rayed sun on his chest…A golden rayed sun that still shone, though covered with mud and blood, on his own chest.
“Wait…Something is not right here. I am a…man of the Order. Radias is my Lord. And a Mistaven man at that. I am no knight of Greymarsh. In fact…” he began, as memories began rapidly flooding back at him. “In fact, Greymarsh has no knights. It is not a nation, there have been no men here in nearly a thousand years.”
He looked at the man sitting before him in the marble throne. He looked at the dismal surroundings, a once beautiful room of kings descended to a rotting reminder of what had been. It was all beginning to come together. The man before him was no man. He was the self-proclaimed Lord of Greymarsh. The vampire which had led an army of undead against his unit…
And then he remembered the battle, the way they were surrounded in fog, overwhelmed by numbers, and when they began to retake the upper hand, were crushed by magic. And he remembered falling in battle.
“Do as I say, knight. You will lead my army against your brethren, and you will serve me for eternity” the vampire said, rising to his feet and forcefully staring at the paladin.
“I will…not…do your will creature! By the Lord of Daylight, I shall destroy you!” Validon shouted, drawing his large, two-handed sword.
He charged at the vampire, preparing to slice at him with the blade. With a scream of rage, the vampire drew back his fist and launched a powerful bolt of lightning at the paladin. Validon grunted as he prepared to receive the blast. Surprisingly, however, he was met with little force and even less pain as the lightning seemed to arc around him, barely affecting him at all. With a grin born more of pragmatism than of joy, Validon sliced at the vampire.
The creature caught the blow across his side, and though it was only a glancing slice, the blade bit deep. He spun with the motion, readying another spell. As he completed his spin, a gout of flame emerged from his finger tips, wreathing Validon’s entire body in fire.
Validon felt almost completely unaffected by the vampire’s spell. Though the flame enveloped him in fire and heat, and there was some degree of pain, it felt elsewhere, as if it was happening to someone else. With only a slight pause caused more by reflex than any actual pain or fear, he took a swipe at the vampire’s feet, attempting to trip him.
The vampire narrowly avoided the blade by jumping to the side and came up with his own sword, a long and thin blade of bluish steel with a delicately engraved hilt. He sliced the air in front of Validon’s face, bringing the blade within inches of his nose and then stabbing with a circular slice at his chest.
Validon caught the blade and displaced with his own before taking another long sweep at the vampire’s legs, this time connecting with one of the creature’s legs. Though it was again only a glancing blow, the blade, which was enchanted to face just such an opponent, caused the Lord of Greymarsh a great deal of pain and knocked him backward into the stone wall behind him. He gritted his teeth and launched his attack once more.
The two of them dueled, untiring, for several minutes more before the vampire attempted another spell. This time, Validon was ready and sliced the vampire’s hand clean off. Shrieking in pain, the creature attempted to flee, but found it’s way cut off. At this point, Validon clutched at the holy symbol of his god and threw it at the vampire. It connected with the creature’s forehead and seared a deep burn directly into its flesh. The pain was unbearable, and the creature howled in agony as it fell to the ground.
Validon walked up to him and grabbed him by the throat with his gauntleted hand. He pulled the wooden torch out of a wall sconce and grasped it firmly backwards in his hand. “Now, Lord of Greymarsh, you will rest!” he shouted, and plunged the pointed bottom end of the torch into the creature’s chest. Immediately it was apparent that the unnatural thing’s life force was fading.
“I knew…I should not have played with fire. But you were too tempting a tool. I have been foolish…You were never worthy…Of the Gift,” the creature said, as the light faded from its orange eyes.
Without letting the body drop, Validon drew a dagger and separated the head from the body. He tossed it aside, then used a second torch to set the body on fire. As the undead flesh burned away, he pondered what the vampire had meant by “the Gift”. Surely it was merely a construct of the creature’s ego, implying that being in its service was a higher calling?
He took stock of his belongings, all apparently intact, and headed for the entryway that would lead out into the swamp. As he walked, he passed a silvery wall decoration. As it caught his eye, he stopped and looked at it for a moment. It appeared to be a mirror, but oddly it did not show his reflection…
His blood ran cold. Or, more correctly, he noticed the sensation of his cold blood running through his veins. He had noticed the seeming deadness of his senses, his strange resistance to pain and his greater than normal strength, but had chalked them up to the extraordinary circumstances. In fact, however, he had been turned…
What would he do now? A paladin of the Holy Order of the Sun, and a vampire? A bitter irony so laughable that he thought it must be some sort of joke. He punched the mirror, and walked out of the ruined castle into the stormy swamp…
Friday, December 30, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
The Land of the Nords: Impressions of Skyrim
So, I’ve borrowed Skyrim for a week, and while I’ve still got a lot more playing to do (I can’t buy it until I get a computer to run it - TES games are made for computer, I’m sorry they just are) I think I’ve played enough to get my first impressions out of it. The game has basically been heaped with praise by all the big reviewers, and I certainly have my share of praise to add to it. However, there are some things of a less positive nature that I feel it is my duty to point out as a gamer, to illustrate what things might be missing or need to be adjusted for the next title. Without further introduction, here are my impressions:
Negatives:
Maps: Don’t get me wrong, the world map is beautifully rendered. But it’s very difficult to see pathways leading to where you need to go. I’ve learned how to get around on the world map fairly well by now, but it was slow going, and I still sometimes head down the wrong path thinking that it will take me where I’m going. Far worse, however, are the area maps. When you are inside a labyrinthine dungeon that is three or four levels and loops back in on itself again and again, a two-dimensional map doesn’t cut it. I don’t know how long I’ve spent lost in the mazes of Dwemer or Nordic ruins, unable to determine which direction I need to go to find my way. The maps need to represent three dimensions, that’s all there is to it.
Creatures: There are a great many sentient creatures in Skyrim besides the playable humanoid races: Dragons, Giants, Falmer, Hargraven, Daedra, and potentially the Spriggans. Yet there are barely a handful of them that you can peacefully interact with. This has always seemed a weakness in TES games to me, but Skyrim in particular seems very lacking in peaceful nonhumans.
Weapons: The weapons are basically the same from Oblivion. They look much better, but they are the same categories we previously saw. Daggers, swords, maces, axes, hammers, bows. Basically the same as Oblivion, and the materials (Iron, Steel, Dwarven, etc.) are almost equally similar. In Morrowind we had halberds and spears, clubs, staves we could hit people with, and crossbows as well as all sorts of throwing weapons. It’d really be nice to see that stuff come back.
Skills: My biggest problem with Skyrim is in the new skill system. Unless you spend your one point per level on a perk within a skill, you see no benefit at all from increasing your skill. My alchemy level was above 60 by the time I completed the main quest, yet my potions were basically the same as they were when my skill was 15. It just doesn’t make any sense. There need to be passive bonuses to being skilled regardless of perks.
Positives:
World: The world makes sense. Skyrim is not an easy place to live in, and it shows in many of the characters’ rough looking faces. Moreover, racial diversity is pretty low, though certain areas are more diverse than others. The Argonians and Khajiit, enslaved in Morrowind, are here mistrusted and discriminated against: The Argonians are forced to live outside of Windhelm in a sort of ghetto area, and the Khajiit are made to wander around in trade caravans outside of the cities. The situations are bad, but the fact is that they flesh the world out and make it follow the rules that have been laid down. An imperfect world is more realistic, and a particularly bad one is one that needs a hero.
Elves: Elves aren’t perfect. And God, that’s wonderful. Tolkien’s elves were fine, but in fantasy they have become the rule and not the exception. Elves shouldn’t always be superior in morals, knowledge, and ability. As ancient a people as they may be, if they are mortal, they should act like it. Elves in Skyrim, especially the High Elves, are haughty, arrogant, and tend toward racism. They torture prisoners and sacrifice others for magical experiments. They are perhaps the worst of the bad, and that is fantastic. They may only be so exceptionally unlikable because of the amount of power they have, and that leads me to…
Empire: The Empire is crumbling. Black Marsh (Argonians) seceded some time after the Oblivion crisis and invaded Morrowind after the destruction of Vvardenfell by the eruption of Red Mountain. While the Dunmer flee to Solstheim and Skyrim, Hammerfell (Redguards) and Elsewyr (Khajiit) secede as well, and the Summerset Isle (Altmer) invade Valenwood (Bosmer). Now Skyrim is in civil war, and may secede as well. Ultimately, the only regions that remain entirely loyal to the Empire are Cyrodiil (Imperials) and High Rock (Bretons) and this could very well spell disaster for the Empire. This sets up a powerful possibility for further changes in Tamriel, and if we don’t see something major regarding the fate of the Empire in expansions to Skyrim, we will in TES VI whenever it comes about.
Dragons: The Dragons look great, and fighting them is epic. As they come swooping down from the sky, blasting fire and roaring, it gives a sense of excitement, every time. I have not gotten bored of fighting dragons on Skyrim, and I doubt that I will. I got lucky enough to have one attack in the middle of a city, and it was a completely different battle. The fact that they can attack anywhere is possibly the best touch, because it helps give the main storyline a true sense of dread.
Sky: I’ll leave you with this. When playing Skyrim, from time to time, look up at the sky. Bethesda has always created beautiful skies for TES games, or at least since Morrowind, and Skyrim does not disappoint. I’ve always thought/heard that the skies in TES III & IV were hand painted, though I have never found a reliable source which said so. I feel the same way about Skyrim. They look more like art in a gallery than a digital rendering. So, look at the skies. It is “Skyrim” after all.
Negatives:
Maps: Don’t get me wrong, the world map is beautifully rendered. But it’s very difficult to see pathways leading to where you need to go. I’ve learned how to get around on the world map fairly well by now, but it was slow going, and I still sometimes head down the wrong path thinking that it will take me where I’m going. Far worse, however, are the area maps. When you are inside a labyrinthine dungeon that is three or four levels and loops back in on itself again and again, a two-dimensional map doesn’t cut it. I don’t know how long I’ve spent lost in the mazes of Dwemer or Nordic ruins, unable to determine which direction I need to go to find my way. The maps need to represent three dimensions, that’s all there is to it.
Creatures: There are a great many sentient creatures in Skyrim besides the playable humanoid races: Dragons, Giants, Falmer, Hargraven, Daedra, and potentially the Spriggans. Yet there are barely a handful of them that you can peacefully interact with. This has always seemed a weakness in TES games to me, but Skyrim in particular seems very lacking in peaceful nonhumans.
Weapons: The weapons are basically the same from Oblivion. They look much better, but they are the same categories we previously saw. Daggers, swords, maces, axes, hammers, bows. Basically the same as Oblivion, and the materials (Iron, Steel, Dwarven, etc.) are almost equally similar. In Morrowind we had halberds and spears, clubs, staves we could hit people with, and crossbows as well as all sorts of throwing weapons. It’d really be nice to see that stuff come back.
Skills: My biggest problem with Skyrim is in the new skill system. Unless you spend your one point per level on a perk within a skill, you see no benefit at all from increasing your skill. My alchemy level was above 60 by the time I completed the main quest, yet my potions were basically the same as they were when my skill was 15. It just doesn’t make any sense. There need to be passive bonuses to being skilled regardless of perks.
Positives:
World: The world makes sense. Skyrim is not an easy place to live in, and it shows in many of the characters’ rough looking faces. Moreover, racial diversity is pretty low, though certain areas are more diverse than others. The Argonians and Khajiit, enslaved in Morrowind, are here mistrusted and discriminated against: The Argonians are forced to live outside of Windhelm in a sort of ghetto area, and the Khajiit are made to wander around in trade caravans outside of the cities. The situations are bad, but the fact is that they flesh the world out and make it follow the rules that have been laid down. An imperfect world is more realistic, and a particularly bad one is one that needs a hero.
Elves: Elves aren’t perfect. And God, that’s wonderful. Tolkien’s elves were fine, but in fantasy they have become the rule and not the exception. Elves shouldn’t always be superior in morals, knowledge, and ability. As ancient a people as they may be, if they are mortal, they should act like it. Elves in Skyrim, especially the High Elves, are haughty, arrogant, and tend toward racism. They torture prisoners and sacrifice others for magical experiments. They are perhaps the worst of the bad, and that is fantastic. They may only be so exceptionally unlikable because of the amount of power they have, and that leads me to…
Empire: The Empire is crumbling. Black Marsh (Argonians) seceded some time after the Oblivion crisis and invaded Morrowind after the destruction of Vvardenfell by the eruption of Red Mountain. While the Dunmer flee to Solstheim and Skyrim, Hammerfell (Redguards) and Elsewyr (Khajiit) secede as well, and the Summerset Isle (Altmer) invade Valenwood (Bosmer). Now Skyrim is in civil war, and may secede as well. Ultimately, the only regions that remain entirely loyal to the Empire are Cyrodiil (Imperials) and High Rock (Bretons) and this could very well spell disaster for the Empire. This sets up a powerful possibility for further changes in Tamriel, and if we don’t see something major regarding the fate of the Empire in expansions to Skyrim, we will in TES VI whenever it comes about.
Dragons: The Dragons look great, and fighting them is epic. As they come swooping down from the sky, blasting fire and roaring, it gives a sense of excitement, every time. I have not gotten bored of fighting dragons on Skyrim, and I doubt that I will. I got lucky enough to have one attack in the middle of a city, and it was a completely different battle. The fact that they can attack anywhere is possibly the best touch, because it helps give the main storyline a true sense of dread.
Sky: I’ll leave you with this. When playing Skyrim, from time to time, look up at the sky. Bethesda has always created beautiful skies for TES games, or at least since Morrowind, and Skyrim does not disappoint. I’ve always thought/heard that the skies in TES III & IV were hand painted, though I have never found a reliable source which said so. I feel the same way about Skyrim. They look more like art in a gallery than a digital rendering. So, look at the skies. It is “Skyrim” after all.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Lonely Road
Events of the last several weeks, or maybe months (I don't keep very good track of time) have lead me to a conclusion about a problem I've long had. I'm a firm believer of moderation in matters of a social/political nature. You cannot expect a person to be too moral, but you cannot allow them to be too immoral. A government should work with its entire population, rather than favoring one group, however large or small. Yet all I ever see is people standing on one side or the other. Everything seems to be right or wrong, black or white, Republican or Democrat, etc. And it always left me wondering, why? Why are there so few people that take a stand for moderation. Why do so few people strive for balance? Why are there so few people that see what I see. Oh, there's a few out there besides me, but finding them is very nearly impossible. And for that I have searched for the answer. Why?
Well, these events have taught me the answer. Whether in the case of the war on terror, pro-life vs. pro-choice, balance of wealth, or the current Penn State situation, taking the middle ground gets you attacked. Oh sure, people on both sides face personal attacks from their opposition. But we in the middle get hit from both sides. It doesn't help my personal case that people don't understand their terminology right. In politics, for instance Democrats and Republicans are no longer liberals and conservatives, even though the media still calls them that. The Patriot Act is the most liberal thing anyone in the government has done since the New Deal, and the repealing of Don't Ask/Tell in the military was a conservative action - i.e., get government interference out of the picture. People don't associate the terms with what they mean anymore, and while I can hardly blame them when the "experts" on TV don't get it right either, it really makes defending a position on one issue or another really more painful than it needs to be.
Anyway, the big problem is this two-side mentality. "You're either with us or against us" is no way to shape domestic or foreign policy. No way to shape morality either. The universe doesn't exist in black and white, or even shades of grey. More colors than the human eye can perceive exist in our world, so why would the same not apply to something as complex as ideas? Yet everyone is so convinced that their "side" is right, they often don't even consider the fact that they probably don't personally agree with every single little thing their party or group stands for.
Apparently, as a people, the majority of us have a need to fit in with others. I get that: We are social creatures, mostly surrounded by others our entire life. It makes sense to try to find one group or another that we sort of like and agree with and stick with them. But all we are really doing is accepting a lifestyle of perpetual conflict with those not in our "clique" and the mediocrity of conforming to other people's opinions. Followers rarely think for themselves. When they do, they generally find something that doesn't fully agree with their beliefs, and either dismiss it or keep in internalized, where it festers for the rest of their life.
The middle road is the loneliest. We have very few constant companions. Someone who we otherwise might agree and get along with eventually fixates on one disagreement, and holds it against us, attacks us, and eventually abandons us. We are doomed in our own way, doomed to see the better path and be unable to share it. But even as I feel helpless, even as I know that most people would ignore the middle ground in favor of supporting their own side, I urge you to consider, if you never have before, the idea that compromise is better than conflict. Absolutes may exist somewhere, but we humans have too short a time on this Earth to find it. Working together for even a day will accomplish more than all the name-calling we can manage for a thousand years.
Well, these events have taught me the answer. Whether in the case of the war on terror, pro-life vs. pro-choice, balance of wealth, or the current Penn State situation, taking the middle ground gets you attacked. Oh sure, people on both sides face personal attacks from their opposition. But we in the middle get hit from both sides. It doesn't help my personal case that people don't understand their terminology right. In politics, for instance Democrats and Republicans are no longer liberals and conservatives, even though the media still calls them that. The Patriot Act is the most liberal thing anyone in the government has done since the New Deal, and the repealing of Don't Ask/Tell in the military was a conservative action - i.e., get government interference out of the picture. People don't associate the terms with what they mean anymore, and while I can hardly blame them when the "experts" on TV don't get it right either, it really makes defending a position on one issue or another really more painful than it needs to be.
Anyway, the big problem is this two-side mentality. "You're either with us or against us" is no way to shape domestic or foreign policy. No way to shape morality either. The universe doesn't exist in black and white, or even shades of grey. More colors than the human eye can perceive exist in our world, so why would the same not apply to something as complex as ideas? Yet everyone is so convinced that their "side" is right, they often don't even consider the fact that they probably don't personally agree with every single little thing their party or group stands for.
Apparently, as a people, the majority of us have a need to fit in with others. I get that: We are social creatures, mostly surrounded by others our entire life. It makes sense to try to find one group or another that we sort of like and agree with and stick with them. But all we are really doing is accepting a lifestyle of perpetual conflict with those not in our "clique" and the mediocrity of conforming to other people's opinions. Followers rarely think for themselves. When they do, they generally find something that doesn't fully agree with their beliefs, and either dismiss it or keep in internalized, where it festers for the rest of their life.
The middle road is the loneliest. We have very few constant companions. Someone who we otherwise might agree and get along with eventually fixates on one disagreement, and holds it against us, attacks us, and eventually abandons us. We are doomed in our own way, doomed to see the better path and be unable to share it. But even as I feel helpless, even as I know that most people would ignore the middle ground in favor of supporting their own side, I urge you to consider, if you never have before, the idea that compromise is better than conflict. Absolutes may exist somewhere, but we humans have too short a time on this Earth to find it. Working together for even a day will accomplish more than all the name-calling we can manage for a thousand years.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Broken Heart of Stone
You gave me this broken heart of stone,
But now I cry, and now I moan.
I got that pain, deep in my bones,
From my broken heart of stone.
And now I’m walking, well I said, “Shalom”
And people see me coming everywhere I roam.
And I just ain’t, I ain’t got no home,
Now that it’s broken, this heart of stone.
Hey baby, just leave me alone,
Can’t play your games, it’s all unknown.
Cause that woman, she knocked me prone,
And she pummeled my heart of stone.
“Svarga mem taya,” the wind seems to yawn,
But I’m still yellin’ “Well now it’s gone!”
I got no hope to dream upon,
Because she crushed my heart of stone.
Now I’m leaving to be on my own,
I got no appointments that I gotta postpone,
And for my sins, well I must atone
If I ever want to fix my heart of stone.
But these feelings I just can’t disown,
Looks like I’ll always have a cracked heart of stone.
But now I cry, and now I moan.
I got that pain, deep in my bones,
From my broken heart of stone.
And now I’m walking, well I said, “Shalom”
And people see me coming everywhere I roam.
And I just ain’t, I ain’t got no home,
Now that it’s broken, this heart of stone.
Hey baby, just leave me alone,
Can’t play your games, it’s all unknown.
Cause that woman, she knocked me prone,
And she pummeled my heart of stone.
“Svarga mem taya,” the wind seems to yawn,
But I’m still yellin’ “Well now it’s gone!”
I got no hope to dream upon,
Because she crushed my heart of stone.
Now I’m leaving to be on my own,
I got no appointments that I gotta postpone,
And for my sins, well I must atone
If I ever want to fix my heart of stone.
But these feelings I just can’t disown,
Looks like I’ll always have a cracked heart of stone.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Unraveling
Alright. So it’s been awhile since I last posted. Months. Well, there have been several big changes since then. But, they don’t matter. Not as much as the one big thing looming overhead which has stayed the same.
When last I posted, I was feeling pretty miserable about life. Enough that I wanted to set the world ablaze. I was angry. That actually has a lot to do with why I haven’t been back here in so long. Well, I still am. But I’ve lost my motivation. I don’t care to set the world, or even my block, on fire.
Instead I just kind of have been targeting myself. How worthless am I, that I do nothing ever? How pathetic that I merely sit in my depression and self-loathing, a dark little hole where all I feel is misery? Why not extract myself, birth into the world, become that which I am not? Because it’s too hard? Because it’s not what I want? No. I just have no motivation. I feel no reason. Things that I want, I want later. If ever. Except for instant self-gratification, though even that has been slow coming as of late.
It doesn’t help to be berated and reminded day after day about how much I don’t do anything. Especially when I’m trying to write, or trying to think to write, or trying to come up with some new idea about how to do something, how to make the world better, or at least different from my own designs. Trying to make some small mark upon the soil from my own perspective. Ultimately, that means I’m trying, doesn’t it? But all I am reminded of is how much the electricity cost, or how long it’s been since I have been home from school, or how I don’t have a job. How I apparently am not doing anything worthwhile. And, if that is the case-If I am doing nothing that has worth-Does that not make me worthless?
I don’t have an answer here. I don’t know what to do. I know what I won’t do. I won’t become some poor S.O.B. working day in day out for a meager existence which gives me no pride or pleasure in the results of my labor. So, that leaves me with continuing to accept the mental anguish of being worthless. Or trying something else. Leaving, perhaps, for some far away, to do who knows what? A grand adventure, likely to end up something like Into the Wild with me dying of starvation in a burnt out bus in Alaska? Or perhaps I take out the middle man and just end life myself? Neither seems like a solution to me. So what do I do? Thus far, my ideas - trying to get short stories published, getting noticed on a blog that admittedly I don’t post anywhere close to often enough on, and a small modicum of other ideas which have mostly remained in the realm of the mind - haven’t worked. So, what do I do?
When last I posted, I was feeling pretty miserable about life. Enough that I wanted to set the world ablaze. I was angry. That actually has a lot to do with why I haven’t been back here in so long. Well, I still am. But I’ve lost my motivation. I don’t care to set the world, or even my block, on fire.
Instead I just kind of have been targeting myself. How worthless am I, that I do nothing ever? How pathetic that I merely sit in my depression and self-loathing, a dark little hole where all I feel is misery? Why not extract myself, birth into the world, become that which I am not? Because it’s too hard? Because it’s not what I want? No. I just have no motivation. I feel no reason. Things that I want, I want later. If ever. Except for instant self-gratification, though even that has been slow coming as of late.
It doesn’t help to be berated and reminded day after day about how much I don’t do anything. Especially when I’m trying to write, or trying to think to write, or trying to come up with some new idea about how to do something, how to make the world better, or at least different from my own designs. Trying to make some small mark upon the soil from my own perspective. Ultimately, that means I’m trying, doesn’t it? But all I am reminded of is how much the electricity cost, or how long it’s been since I have been home from school, or how I don’t have a job. How I apparently am not doing anything worthwhile. And, if that is the case-If I am doing nothing that has worth-Does that not make me worthless?
I don’t have an answer here. I don’t know what to do. I know what I won’t do. I won’t become some poor S.O.B. working day in day out for a meager existence which gives me no pride or pleasure in the results of my labor. So, that leaves me with continuing to accept the mental anguish of being worthless. Or trying something else. Leaving, perhaps, for some far away, to do who knows what? A grand adventure, likely to end up something like Into the Wild with me dying of starvation in a burnt out bus in Alaska? Or perhaps I take out the middle man and just end life myself? Neither seems like a solution to me. So what do I do? Thus far, my ideas - trying to get short stories published, getting noticed on a blog that admittedly I don’t post anywhere close to often enough on, and a small modicum of other ideas which have mostly remained in the realm of the mind - haven’t worked. So, what do I do?
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
In a Dark Place
In a dark place I sit,
And think about things
Which make me wonder
Why the whole world stings
And chokes, and cuts,
And destroys our desire,
Like dust in the wind,
Like paper in fire,
And I think it'd be nice
To join the melee
To fight the battle,
To sink and betray,
And in my dark place
I grow in disgust,
I cannot be calm,
Can no longer find trust
And I find that the hate
Which burns in my soul
Yearns to be free,
And I do not want to control
The urge that I have
To make the world right
So come with me now
And start the fire tonight.
Monday, March 21, 2011
A Poem to Someone
I met you in one of those fated moments of chance,
Impossible as it is to predict life’s dance.
I’d never have seen if not for those beautiful eyes,
The same ones that haunt me from night to night.
And you gave your time to the weird guy in the corner,
With too much to say and no way to say it.
It was a story book meeting with a real-life ending,
Since I’m still sitting here alone.
And it seems all too likely that you’ll never know,
Never see what I am too afraid to show.
Even if you read this, you’ll probably never guess,
Since I’m really just writing to get this off my chest.
Or maybe I hope that somehow you will,
And that maybe you understand the way I feel,
And accept that maybe we are meant to be,
Embracing the wills of destiny.
But in truth, I’m not trying to cause a scene.
I don’t even know just how you’ve been.
I’ve kept myself from really getting close,
Because I’m not trying to take what I want most.
I don’t want to steal you from your life,
I just don’t think it would be right,
To assume the mantle of lover and thief.
You’ve already worked hard for what you have now.
So why am I writing this lover’s appeal,
If I know the results won’t be what I feel?
Well I’m afraid it’s just what romantics do,
Love is often felt only by one of two.
To keep hope alive causes pain and despair,
But to lose it entirely is to lose all care.
So I’ll just end this soliloquy here,
And maybe it will accidentally reach your ear.
Impossible as it is to predict life’s dance.
I’d never have seen if not for those beautiful eyes,
The same ones that haunt me from night to night.
And you gave your time to the weird guy in the corner,
With too much to say and no way to say it.
It was a story book meeting with a real-life ending,
Since I’m still sitting here alone.
And it seems all too likely that you’ll never know,
Never see what I am too afraid to show.
Even if you read this, you’ll probably never guess,
Since I’m really just writing to get this off my chest.
Or maybe I hope that somehow you will,
And that maybe you understand the way I feel,
And accept that maybe we are meant to be,
Embracing the wills of destiny.
But in truth, I’m not trying to cause a scene.
I don’t even know just how you’ve been.
I’ve kept myself from really getting close,
Because I’m not trying to take what I want most.
I don’t want to steal you from your life,
I just don’t think it would be right,
To assume the mantle of lover and thief.
You’ve already worked hard for what you have now.
So why am I writing this lover’s appeal,
If I know the results won’t be what I feel?
Well I’m afraid it’s just what romantics do,
Love is often felt only by one of two.
To keep hope alive causes pain and despair,
But to lose it entirely is to lose all care.
So I’ll just end this soliloquy here,
And maybe it will accidentally reach your ear.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Fantasy Setting Pt 1
I thought I'd post the preliminary descriptions/histories for three of the locations for novel I'm slowly working on, The Bent Tower. Please offer any opinions or criticisms you have, these are preliminary.
The Bent Tower
The Bent Tower looms on the cliff before you, its twisted structure the composite of multiple architectural styles and different periods of construction. Seemingly mundane materials, including stone and wood, are joined by silver, adamantine, and a multitude of rare, unknown minerals as well. Supports reach down from various parts of the overhanging structure, some reaching down from as far as 100 ft., while others reach down to other parts of the tower or to the sea itself. A series of docks comes directly out of the cliff face to the water, and it is clear that the caverns in the stone are also interconnected with the tower itself. The tower is, in truth, a city built out of a single, giant, sprawling structure. Some crop fields surround the eastern face of the tower, but no external homes are apparent.
The Tower was originally merely a headquarters and research facility for the wizard Arquibus Dubar, and in time became a home for his family. The site was chosen in part because of the abandoned Dwarven mines below, which were incorporated into the structure as storage spaces and laboratories for dangerous magical and alchemical equipment and experiments. The mines were abandoned for a reason, however, and a group of Derro who lived in the deep tunnels below attempted to sabotage construction in the later stages. Some well planted explosives damaged the mid-section of the tower, but others which failed to explode prevented the total destruction of the tower. Rather than remove all the construction above the mid section, most of which was still perfectly intact, Arquibus decided to have his architects patch the damaged section and built extensive supports around the tower, allowing the structure to remain strong. The maimed but sturdy tower hence gained its name from its nearly devastated form which now, at its worst point, bent at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees from its original angle.
As the facility expanded, Arquibus saw fit to hire on full time watchmen, caretakers, and groundskeepers. Several other wizards expressed interest in teaching from the excellent facilities, and all of these people needed places to stay and supplies. Traveling merchants learned to establish a permanent trade with the tower, and very quickly some decided to stay and create shops within the tower itself. Before long, the tower had general stores, blacksmiths, a tanner, and a small but busy port and fisherman’s wharf. In the tenth year since construction was first begun, The Bent Tower officially became a city, allowing people to freely come and go so long as they obeyed the laws set forth by the creator and executed by the tower guard.
Currently, the tower is home to 2 general trade stores, a hunter’s trading post, 3 blacksmiths, an apothecary shop, 3 inns, a potter, 2 tailors, a cobbler, and 4 magical supply stores. An arcane academy functions from the caverns below the city, and an adventurer’s guild operates training facilities as well. A theatre puts on shows daily, and a public debate hall allows the general populace to see philosophical, theocratic, and scientific debates on a regular basis. In addition to the Scarlet Guardsmen, various constructs known as the Grey Watch protect particularly dangerous areas (as well as the private quarters of the Dubar family) from harm. Four temples exist, each dedicated to a separate god and fully staffed by clergy. The port can accommodate up to fifteen vessels in addition to the five fishing ships and five warships which patrol the harbor. The tower and caverns are home to approximately 4,200 residents and on most days around 1,000 “guests”, temporary visitors including traveling merchants, sailors and adventurers.
Chivarius, the Gleaming City
The gleaming Alabaster walls of the city of Chivarius promise safe dwelling to all of good intent, and unyielding resolve against those who would do the city harm. Inside the city the splendor continues, from the beautiful marble surface of the buildings to the perfect right angles of the roads and passages. Streets paved with silver and gold form the latticework of a pristine city of order and righteousness.
Chivarius serves as the “capital” of the Alliance of the Grand Council, merely because meetings between the members are held in the Bronze Sanctum in the very center of the city. The grand structure is the only round surface in the city, a perfect circle in the center of a perfect square. It is visible from anywhere in the city, as no other building is taller or wider. Inside, great murals painted with gems depict a hundred battles, and a hundred triumphs of good over evil. In the Inner Council Chamber sits a round table of platinum sheen with a chair for each of the council members, one from every city of the Alliance.
The city is home to some of the greatest crafters and most renowned merchants in the Alliance, or even in the realms. However, all of the raw materials must be imported to the city, as local resources are basically non-existent. The city sits in the center of a desolate wasteland, as per the instructions of the god Marollus, whose followers founded the city as an act of faith. For a time, food fell from the heavens for those who constructed the city. Four great fountains, at the four corners of the city, magically provided water. While food no longer rains down, the water still flows freely from the fountains and into deep reservoirs which stretch along the inside of the city walls. Though the population of the city, and the number of structures within has increased since the foundation of the city, the exact size and layout was planned from the beginning, so the original structures, including the walls, fountains, Bronze Sanctum, and innermost homes, have remained unchanged for the last seven hundred years. The temple to Marollus sits atop the Sanctum, and no other temples exist within the city, due to the followers of Marollus still controlling the city, and this seems unlikely to change. Nevertheless, members of any race or religion are allowed within the city, so long as they cause no trouble.
Old Fort Two Rivers
Where the Red River and Serpentine River first nearly meet, a fort of ancient construction found new life as the home to an intrepid leader. This fortress city, now known as Old Fort Two Rivers, was tantamount to the formation of the Alliance as the headquarters of the man that first began taking on the greatest evils of the continent, Joran Kalnos.
When Kalnos first came across the fort, which used to be called Shal’Na Rey’Na, the old stone was crumbling and debris filled the upper halls. The old fort was the place of the last stand of the Mul’Shar’Eth, a mixed race empire which stretched across the continent, against the barbaric forces lead by the half-demon dragon Krallishthisthex. Though the dragon’s siege lasted nearly fifty years, and though he eventually was victorious, the walls were never breached. The Mul’Shar’Eth were defeated by themselves, as they finally splintered and fought a civil war within their own fortress, until the few hundred survivors surrendered to the dragon and opened the gates. Though nearly all of the riches of the old empire were stolen, the inner structure of the fort remained intact and Kalnos realized that the old fort was a great deal stronger than it appeared to be from the outside. With the aid of his followers, he spent a year and a half clearing the old halls and rebuilding the walls in secret, as no one locally suspected that anyone would ever use the fort again, save for vermin and possibly the local lizard man tribes. In fact, the lizard men would prove to be some of Kalnos’ first regional allies, who happily agreed to aid reconstruction of the facility in exchange for the metal weapons that Kalnos’ men provided.
The stone of the fort’s construction was normal granite, though the walls were built from exceptionally thick and heavy blocks. The original mortar was a mixture of an alchemical glue, adamantine, and magic null stone, which gave the walls the ability to absorb magical attacks. This paste was still usable, and so new blocks and repositioned ones were replaced approximately the same as they had originally been. The old empire was a combination of Elven, Dwarven, and Orcish people, and the architecture was an appropriate mix. The walls rose as sturdy, angular bastions of hexagonal shape into round, almost organic forms on the upper battlements. Spikes lined the outer walls and towers, and arrow slits were cut in regular intervals in the walls, while the great stone towers had tactically placed murder holes to protect against wall climbers and battering rams.
The fort now functions as a small city in addition to being a military stronghold, as the increased activity after foundation of the Alliance inspired increased trade and need for services. The fertile lands around the rivers, which had lay unused for over a thousand years, once again became a home for farmers who bring their crop in to the fort and are protected by its army. The lizard men that still live in the region still practice their old ways of life, hunting and fishing along the rivers, but many have begun to adopt a more “civilized” way of life, living as farmers, craftsmen, or even merchants in the region.
The Bent Tower
The Bent Tower looms on the cliff before you, its twisted structure the composite of multiple architectural styles and different periods of construction. Seemingly mundane materials, including stone and wood, are joined by silver, adamantine, and a multitude of rare, unknown minerals as well. Supports reach down from various parts of the overhanging structure, some reaching down from as far as 100 ft., while others reach down to other parts of the tower or to the sea itself. A series of docks comes directly out of the cliff face to the water, and it is clear that the caverns in the stone are also interconnected with the tower itself. The tower is, in truth, a city built out of a single, giant, sprawling structure. Some crop fields surround the eastern face of the tower, but no external homes are apparent.
The Tower was originally merely a headquarters and research facility for the wizard Arquibus Dubar, and in time became a home for his family. The site was chosen in part because of the abandoned Dwarven mines below, which were incorporated into the structure as storage spaces and laboratories for dangerous magical and alchemical equipment and experiments. The mines were abandoned for a reason, however, and a group of Derro who lived in the deep tunnels below attempted to sabotage construction in the later stages. Some well planted explosives damaged the mid-section of the tower, but others which failed to explode prevented the total destruction of the tower. Rather than remove all the construction above the mid section, most of which was still perfectly intact, Arquibus decided to have his architects patch the damaged section and built extensive supports around the tower, allowing the structure to remain strong. The maimed but sturdy tower hence gained its name from its nearly devastated form which now, at its worst point, bent at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees from its original angle.
As the facility expanded, Arquibus saw fit to hire on full time watchmen, caretakers, and groundskeepers. Several other wizards expressed interest in teaching from the excellent facilities, and all of these people needed places to stay and supplies. Traveling merchants learned to establish a permanent trade with the tower, and very quickly some decided to stay and create shops within the tower itself. Before long, the tower had general stores, blacksmiths, a tanner, and a small but busy port and fisherman’s wharf. In the tenth year since construction was first begun, The Bent Tower officially became a city, allowing people to freely come and go so long as they obeyed the laws set forth by the creator and executed by the tower guard.
Currently, the tower is home to 2 general trade stores, a hunter’s trading post, 3 blacksmiths, an apothecary shop, 3 inns, a potter, 2 tailors, a cobbler, and 4 magical supply stores. An arcane academy functions from the caverns below the city, and an adventurer’s guild operates training facilities as well. A theatre puts on shows daily, and a public debate hall allows the general populace to see philosophical, theocratic, and scientific debates on a regular basis. In addition to the Scarlet Guardsmen, various constructs known as the Grey Watch protect particularly dangerous areas (as well as the private quarters of the Dubar family) from harm. Four temples exist, each dedicated to a separate god and fully staffed by clergy. The port can accommodate up to fifteen vessels in addition to the five fishing ships and five warships which patrol the harbor. The tower and caverns are home to approximately 4,200 residents and on most days around 1,000 “guests”, temporary visitors including traveling merchants, sailors and adventurers.
Chivarius, the Gleaming City
The gleaming Alabaster walls of the city of Chivarius promise safe dwelling to all of good intent, and unyielding resolve against those who would do the city harm. Inside the city the splendor continues, from the beautiful marble surface of the buildings to the perfect right angles of the roads and passages. Streets paved with silver and gold form the latticework of a pristine city of order and righteousness.
Chivarius serves as the “capital” of the Alliance of the Grand Council, merely because meetings between the members are held in the Bronze Sanctum in the very center of the city. The grand structure is the only round surface in the city, a perfect circle in the center of a perfect square. It is visible from anywhere in the city, as no other building is taller or wider. Inside, great murals painted with gems depict a hundred battles, and a hundred triumphs of good over evil. In the Inner Council Chamber sits a round table of platinum sheen with a chair for each of the council members, one from every city of the Alliance.
The city is home to some of the greatest crafters and most renowned merchants in the Alliance, or even in the realms. However, all of the raw materials must be imported to the city, as local resources are basically non-existent. The city sits in the center of a desolate wasteland, as per the instructions of the god Marollus, whose followers founded the city as an act of faith. For a time, food fell from the heavens for those who constructed the city. Four great fountains, at the four corners of the city, magically provided water. While food no longer rains down, the water still flows freely from the fountains and into deep reservoirs which stretch along the inside of the city walls. Though the population of the city, and the number of structures within has increased since the foundation of the city, the exact size and layout was planned from the beginning, so the original structures, including the walls, fountains, Bronze Sanctum, and innermost homes, have remained unchanged for the last seven hundred years. The temple to Marollus sits atop the Sanctum, and no other temples exist within the city, due to the followers of Marollus still controlling the city, and this seems unlikely to change. Nevertheless, members of any race or religion are allowed within the city, so long as they cause no trouble.
Old Fort Two Rivers
Where the Red River and Serpentine River first nearly meet, a fort of ancient construction found new life as the home to an intrepid leader. This fortress city, now known as Old Fort Two Rivers, was tantamount to the formation of the Alliance as the headquarters of the man that first began taking on the greatest evils of the continent, Joran Kalnos.
When Kalnos first came across the fort, which used to be called Shal’Na Rey’Na, the old stone was crumbling and debris filled the upper halls. The old fort was the place of the last stand of the Mul’Shar’Eth, a mixed race empire which stretched across the continent, against the barbaric forces lead by the half-demon dragon Krallishthisthex. Though the dragon’s siege lasted nearly fifty years, and though he eventually was victorious, the walls were never breached. The Mul’Shar’Eth were defeated by themselves, as they finally splintered and fought a civil war within their own fortress, until the few hundred survivors surrendered to the dragon and opened the gates. Though nearly all of the riches of the old empire were stolen, the inner structure of the fort remained intact and Kalnos realized that the old fort was a great deal stronger than it appeared to be from the outside. With the aid of his followers, he spent a year and a half clearing the old halls and rebuilding the walls in secret, as no one locally suspected that anyone would ever use the fort again, save for vermin and possibly the local lizard man tribes. In fact, the lizard men would prove to be some of Kalnos’ first regional allies, who happily agreed to aid reconstruction of the facility in exchange for the metal weapons that Kalnos’ men provided.
The stone of the fort’s construction was normal granite, though the walls were built from exceptionally thick and heavy blocks. The original mortar was a mixture of an alchemical glue, adamantine, and magic null stone, which gave the walls the ability to absorb magical attacks. This paste was still usable, and so new blocks and repositioned ones were replaced approximately the same as they had originally been. The old empire was a combination of Elven, Dwarven, and Orcish people, and the architecture was an appropriate mix. The walls rose as sturdy, angular bastions of hexagonal shape into round, almost organic forms on the upper battlements. Spikes lined the outer walls and towers, and arrow slits were cut in regular intervals in the walls, while the great stone towers had tactically placed murder holes to protect against wall climbers and battering rams.
The fort now functions as a small city in addition to being a military stronghold, as the increased activity after foundation of the Alliance inspired increased trade and need for services. The fertile lands around the rivers, which had lay unused for over a thousand years, once again became a home for farmers who bring their crop in to the fort and are protected by its army. The lizard men that still live in the region still practice their old ways of life, hunting and fishing along the rivers, but many have begun to adopt a more “civilized” way of life, living as farmers, craftsmen, or even merchants in the region.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Those people...
So, Sunday my brother wrecked the car. More like destroyed it. Oh, he's fine, thanks for asking. But, of course, we had to take care of the road, and tow the car, and all that happy stuff. Luckily, Ryan's friend was able to drag the car up the road a piece to a property that some friends own, and they let us keep it there until we could pick it up. Which we did with the help of his girlfriend's step father, who used his trailer to tow it to my dad's. Luckily, everything is taken care of. And now that I have a minute, I want to tell you about some other people, that didn't help us.
It was about 2:00 Sunday and a church bus rolled up the street. The car was in the middle of the road, so they stopped and were just looking at us. I thought maybe they didn't know the detour, which was a side street just a bit behind them. So we went to make sure they knew where they were going.
When we got there, this entire bus of "good Christians" from the Mt. Orab Bible Baptist Church didn't offer assistance, or condolences, or even well wishes. Instead we got a nice heaping helping of judgment with a side of criticism from a fat woman on the bus, and vacant stares from everyone around.
"I guess you should have been in church," she sneered, with a look that was either derisive or hungry (she was very fat). My mother, far less confrontational than I, simply said "Maybe we were." Not content to leave us alone, the fat woman responded with "At this time of day? I don't think so." And then had the nerve to hand my mother a welcome pamphlet from the church.
Are all church people like this? Of course not. I used to be one. I knew plenty who were good people, in fact still know a few. But then there are the others, those people, who look down their noses at everyone. God knows if their sins were laid bare the Devil himself would laugh and say welcome to the party. But instead they sneer at their "lessers" with glee and delude themselves into thinking they are good people.
I laugh. I know enough of these people to know they aren't worth my time. Even so, it does me wonders if I get to put one in their place, to let them know how pathetic and sorry they really are. So, I urge you all, if you know people like this (and I know you do) to tell them to shove their worthless judgments and stuck up attitudes. They can keep their shoddy self-worth and personal snooty mandates to themselves. Tell them to go take a hike. Better yet, tell 'em to fuck off. That'll really get their panties in a knot. Anyway, that's all. I'm off.
It was about 2:00 Sunday and a church bus rolled up the street. The car was in the middle of the road, so they stopped and were just looking at us. I thought maybe they didn't know the detour, which was a side street just a bit behind them. So we went to make sure they knew where they were going.
When we got there, this entire bus of "good Christians" from the Mt. Orab Bible Baptist Church didn't offer assistance, or condolences, or even well wishes. Instead we got a nice heaping helping of judgment with a side of criticism from a fat woman on the bus, and vacant stares from everyone around.
"I guess you should have been in church," she sneered, with a look that was either derisive or hungry (she was very fat). My mother, far less confrontational than I, simply said "Maybe we were." Not content to leave us alone, the fat woman responded with "At this time of day? I don't think so." And then had the nerve to hand my mother a welcome pamphlet from the church.
Are all church people like this? Of course not. I used to be one. I knew plenty who were good people, in fact still know a few. But then there are the others, those people, who look down their noses at everyone. God knows if their sins were laid bare the Devil himself would laugh and say welcome to the party. But instead they sneer at their "lessers" with glee and delude themselves into thinking they are good people.
I laugh. I know enough of these people to know they aren't worth my time. Even so, it does me wonders if I get to put one in their place, to let them know how pathetic and sorry they really are. So, I urge you all, if you know people like this (and I know you do) to tell them to shove their worthless judgments and stuck up attitudes. They can keep their shoddy self-worth and personal snooty mandates to themselves. Tell them to go take a hike. Better yet, tell 'em to fuck off. That'll really get their panties in a knot. Anyway, that's all. I'm off.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)