A TARDIS for a week

For the uninitiated, TARDIS is an acronym from the television show Doctor Who. The show started in December 1963 and is still on the air, minus a couple of years here and there where they took some breaks. TARDIS stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. The craft can travel pretty much anywhere in time and space.

With the premise put forth in the title, there are countless possibilities. However, the one I would choose probably seems more aligned with Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.

If I had a TARDIS for a week, I would use it to host a conference. Why? There are some great people in history, mostly Americans, whom I would love to hear speak about our country today.

So many take quotes from these people and try to apply them to today's situations as a means of gaining wisdom. Wouldn't it be cool if we could collect them together for a weekend and hear them speak?

Here is what I would do. I would scoop up those on my list. I would then give them a crash course in the current US Constitution, key SCOTUS decisions, key bits of legislation, and key social issues we face today. I would also let them learn about other cornerstone events such as the proliferation of the internet, smartphones, twerking, the space program, etc. That would take a couple of days.

I would gather the following people, with my reasons:

John Jay, Alexander Hamilton and James Madison. These men were the predominant authors of the US Constitution as well as its "owners' manual" known as The Federalist Papers. John Jay was the first US Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. His insight in several landmark decisions such as Roe v Wade, Heller v DC, Gore v Bush, etc. would be great. The other two men are more well known, by most, and their inclusion should be more than self-explanatory.

George Washington. He was our first and probably greatest president.

Thomas Jefferson. Not only was he the President of the United States as well as the primary author of the Declaration of Independence, but his views on religion and separation of church and state are key to many of today's issues.

Frederick Douglas. The man had Abraham Lincoln's ear. He probably did more for abolition and civil rights than anybody else prior to (or since) Martin Luther King.

Martin Luther King. Nothing more needs to be said to justify Dr. King's inclusion. Any objections? If so, you're not invited.

John Locke. His political philosophies set the foundation of our Constitutional Republic. His views on how we are today would provide great insight.

Benjamin Franklin. Many would love to hear his commentary on the news media of today.

Thomas Paine. His pamphlet, Common Sense, sparked the revolution. What advice would he give to peacefully place us back on track? Are we on track already?

Susan B. Anthony. She was both a suffragette and an abolitionist. He views on civil rights and women's issues are much needed today.

Milton Friedman and Adam Smith. We need some economic advice. I'm sure that most of the others listed would agree with them that step one is to cut wasteful government spending and balance the budget. However, I'd love to hear it direct from their mouths.

The conference would last about three days. Each would get 35 minutes to speak on their chosen topic within their realm of expertise. Then they would have 15 minutes of Q & A.

The last day would be panel one-hour discussions. The panels would be:

Jay, Hamilton, Madison -- The State of the US Constitution

Jefferson & Washington -- Leadership and the Executive Branch

Jefferson, Paine, Franklin, Locke -- The Blessings of Liberty and Individual Rights

Anthony, King, Douglas -- Civil Liberties, the Way Forward

Friedman & Smith -- Taxation and Economic Prosperity

This would prove to be a great event. If somebody runs into a blue police box with a flashing light on top, please tell the driver that I need to borrow it for a few days. Heck, he can come along. It would be fun.

Embracing The Storm -- An Allegory

Photograph Copyright 2013 by P-G Matuszak. All rights Reserved. Use of this photo requires expressed written permission of the author/artist.

The sun was high. It beat down upon the desert plain as it did most summer days. For most, it would be unbearable. But to the select few that called this place home, it was just another sunny day. Jackrabbits scampered through the long, brown grass. Children played on the playground making the same sounds the coyotes did during the earlier dawn.

On the horizon it appeared, a storm. Monsoon season had started just a week earlier. However, its rains usually waited until later in the day, just in time to cool the air at night to make it bearable to sleep. By morning, usually the rains would have dried and the plants would appear just a little more green and a little less brown.

Most rains also brought thunder and lightning. It usually was fiercest in the mountains named after them, the Huachucas. But this storm was coming early. It was on the horizon and traveling fast. This storm was a black spot in an otherwise bright sky. The lightning hammered down to the earth. Its thunder shook the valley from miles away. Even at the distance, a red glow visibly radiated from the ground beneath it. It was as though Hell had opened up and was violently pulling Heaven down.

As the storm marched closer, parents brought their children inside for shelter. Stores closed expecting the worst. Nobody felt safe. Many of the more religious were wondering what the small community had done to attract such a horror. It appeared as though the four riders were on their way, and this very storm marked the apocalypse for this modest town.


As the storm reached the peaks of the mountains to the west, a few gathered outside of their apartment complex to bear witness to events at the fountain at the complex's entrance. A man dressed in a black, leather duster leaned down and kissed a young lady. He slowly stood up with a reassuring smile on his face. A single tear welled up in her eye and made its trek down her cheek as she returned a forced smile. She slowly dropped her hands from his shoulders as he leaned over to pick up his backpack. The man slowly turned and walked west, towards the storm. He paused briefly and waved one last farewell. He continued on his way. Moments later, his silouette could still bee seen when the lightning flashed. It was still early afternoon, yet the western sky was black.


A 7 year old girl looked up at her mother and asked, "Mommy, what is that man doing?". The mother replied, "He's doing something stupid, honey. He's going to give the storm a hug and see if it will be nice and spare us. It won't work though. He's headed off to get himself killed like the fool he is".

A 4 year old boy looked up at his father. "Daddy, I know what he's doing". "What's that, son?". "He's off to stop the storm. First he's going to talk to it. Then he is going to try to hug it and hold it until it gets weak. But it will be too strong to hold. So then he'll have to fight it like a superhero". "Maybe, boy, maybe. Let's get inside before the rain comes".

An old man watched. He spoke softly, but his wife perked her ears up to hear. "I don't believe that idiot. Back in my day we had more sense than that. We didn't go to fight a storm. Storms cannot be fought. They can't be reasoned with. You just have to tie yourself down and wear them out, praying for the best. Come on, Holly. I can't watch this. Let's get inside".

The young woman watched the storm grow closer. As it loomed on the western most edge of the town, she could see the rain and hail falling in the distance. They sky had gone completely black over the whole town. It was mid-afternoon but it the sky was darker than night except for the lightning flashes. The thunder shook the concrete under her feet. Another crack of lightning pummeled the valley. She counted: one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi. Again, the thunder shook the foundation under her feet. She turned, knowing time had run out, and ran for her apartment.

She locked the door and sealed all the windows. She got out candles in case the power went out, as it was mostly likely going to. She quickly checked th batteries in her flashlight. Then she sank to the floor of her bedroom and sobbed. She cried out to who or whatever was listening. "Please bring him back. Please bring him back to me.  I don't understand why he had to go, but he did. I don't care if he wins. I don't care if he finds what he's looking for. I just want him to come back, please!"

She looked down and saw an envelope on the bed with her name on it. She opened it and read the note inside. "My dearest; I cannot explain exactly why I had to confront the storm. I have nothing to prove to you, myself, or anybody else. I don't know what awaits me in its wake. All I know is that I am called to do this. Please don't cry. If I don't make it back, know that this is as it was meant to be. If I do make it back, know that our future is certain, and it will be beautiful for we will be together. Know that come what may, I will always be with you even when our bodies are so far apart. I won't be gone forever. I won't be gone long. But understand, this is just something that HAD to done. It had to be me that did it".

Photograph Copyright 2013 by P-G Matuszak. All rights Reserved.
Use of this photo requires expressed written permission of the author/artist.

The storm arrived. Lightning lit up the sky. Wind howled. Rain soaked the desert sand. But the hail did not fall. The thunder did not topple the buildings or shatter the glass. The lightning did not set fire to the town. Nobody was hurt.

In the morning, the sun rose. Another hot Arizona summer day began. As the sun crested the mountains on the east of the valley, the young man came walking in from the west. His clothes were still drenched. His eyes were alive and staring at something miles away. His face was calm. He walked up to his wife and gave her that same reassuring smile. Her eyes lit up as she grabbed hold of him like she never again would let go.

Melissa asked Paul what happened. "It was just a storm. That's all, just another storm. It's over".

Deborah told Lizzie that the fool got lucky. Tommy told his dad that the man saved them like he said he would. Holly told Adam that he needed to let go of the past and let the kids run the future. Paul kissed Melissa again as they went inside to have breakfast.

Evolving Definition of a Term ("Nutjob")

I've seen the term "nutjob" tossed around quite a bit lately. Mostly, I see the term used as some form of insult regarding conservatives:  "Right-Wing Nutjob" or "RWNJ".

Curious about the origins, I did a little research. Actually, it's been a pet project for a few months now. When bored and not inspired to pick up my guitar, read a philosophy or economics book, watch  a movie, tend my bonsai, go hiking, or any of the other hobbies I enjoy, I will pick some topic to research. I have often been nicknamed "the walking encyclopedia". See, I've had this nasty habit of researching trivia since I was a child. It's quite amusing how this "trivia" becomes important knowledge every so often. For example, knowing the proper cooking temperature and folding ("pulling") techniques for making taffy came in quite handy for building rapport with an Iraqi military commander. Knowing the chord progression for "Smoke on the Water" broke the ice with one insurgent detainee, allowing the interrogator to actually glean some information. So, it has come in handy in some circumstances one would never consider such "trivia" useful.

Combining one hobby concerning the etymology of words, phrases, and jargon with an interest in obscure military facts and history led to a rather amusing thread of research:  the term "nutjob".

Today, many so-called experts on slang will attempt to tell you that a "nutjob" is when somebody stimulates you, sexually, to climax. The "nut" part is the ejaculation, the "job" being the act leading to it. However, the term "nutjob" predates the slang use of "nut" as a euphemism for semen. That term actually derives from the slang use of "nut" as a testicle. That is another misnomer on the meaning of "nutjob". Some will try to tell you it is manual or oral stimulation of the testicles and scrotum.

One thing many agree upon is that the term "nutjob" refers to somebody who is a little "off". It is a slang term for somebody who is not to be taken seriously because their ideas are a little unfounded. Here we do get a little closer to the origin of the term.

In World War One (WWI), the US Army Air Corps sent aviators to Europe. The planes in those days were much more rickety and far less sophisticated than today's aircraft. In fact, until timing chains were employed with the machine guns, pilots and/or gunners often shot off their own propellers. These aircraft had few instruments, sometimes not even a working fuel gauge. The better pilots learned the "feel" of their aircraft and the responsiveness through contact forces between their bodies and the aircraft. Hence you have the derivation of the phrase "by the seat of your pants".

These pilots were already a bit brazen. Many of them were extreme adrenaline junkies. In the thick of an air battle, many would land, refuel, and get back in the air as fast as possible.

Ground crews and mechanics knew the benefits of regular maintenance in keeping the planes flying. These Preventive Maintenance Checks and Services (PMCS) were considered necessary between flights and often during refueling periods during brief landings. Sometimes the mechanics would want to ground the plane to fix something that could end up being a larger problem. Remember, these aircraft were a lot more rickety than today's jets. The vibrations of the engine, the guns, and the forces at work producing lift and torque often caused screws, nuts, and bolts to loosen.

So when the pilots landed to refuel, the mechanics would run out to check over the planes while they were refueling. If they noticed something, the amped-up pilots impatient to get back into battle would tell the mechanics to "just give her a nutjob", meaning to tighten down loose nuts and bolts, tape up holes, and get the plane ready to fly with the least work necessary. Sometimes this meant delaying work on more serious problems that could cause the aircraft to fail in the middle of the battle.

Of course, this led to many planes flying and landing "on a wing and a prayer", another term dating back to WWI.

Soon, the mechanics started using the term "nutjob" to refer to the adrenaline-junkie pilots who would do a "slam and scram" and order that minimal maintenance. So, these pilots would often go back into the fray with at least a "loose screw". Sometimes they would be in such a rush, they'd tell the mechanics to forgo the "nutjob" and would would themselves become the "nutjobs" flying with a "screw loose".

So a "nutjob" is either, in reality, a hasty bit of work, just enough to start a project without full preparation; or it is somebody crazy enough to accept taking a few unnecessary risks in order to attempt to accomplish a mission/task.

Taking into account the origin of the term "nutjob", one can only assume that the true meaning of a "right-wing" or "left-wing" "nutjob" is one that has the nuts and bolts tightened on that given wing. So, a "right-wing nutjob" (RWNJ) is somebody who has at least some facts from the right side of the political spectrum tightened down, well. However, that would mean that the "left-wing" has a few "screws loose".

The same applies the other way. I have no "screws loose", so I avoid calling somebody on the totalitarian-oligarchy-minded left-wing a "nutjob".


One final thought, kids:  the one who laugh last was too clueless to get the joke.

The Battle of Southern Arizona (Camarilla Fiction)

Over the past few months, the kindred of Cochise County had been plagued by an army of adobe Terra Cotta warriors. These warriors looked like ancient Japanese Samurai. A demon had risen and was seeking vengeance for the destruction of his daughter a year prior.

The demon-child, in the guise of a young Japanese girl, terrorized the kindred for months. She sacrificed some in bloody rites to other Oni. She ate some of them. Others she compelled into playing games, interrupting their abilities to feed, conduct business, hunt, and survive. Conchobar of the Norn, his sister-wife, and their daughter, Green, attacked the demon. In a harrowing battle that claimed the life of Mebd, Conchobar's twin sister and wife, the three destroyed the demon-child.

Now her father came forth with vengeance determined to destroy all supernaturals until his honor could be restored.

Conchobar, having taken Praxis of Southern Arizona had enough. He claimed that the day of his wedding to Lady Illyana Constantine would mark the destruction of  the demon. Kindred from all over the globe heeded the call to battle and massed, prepared to end this foe before his vengeance spread.

The kindred formed 7 teams of fighters, one team of ritualists from various covenants, a team for communications and logistical support, and a team to cover the masquerade lest mortals find out what really lurks in the darkness.

The 6th team of fighters was acutally a lone Dragon named Alice Cross, who took command of one of the strange companies of life-sized Apache dolls and Kachina. Vosh, Bear Sundancer, and several other Crone had set to work, convincing ghosts of Apache and Hopi to fight on the side of the kindred.

The 7th Team was Conchobar's. This was his main effort. He would face the demon-father named Bukogi Reichi Oni. For Conchobar, this would end tonight!  The remainder of the teams had the hard job. They had to keep the Terra Cotta Samurai from defending the demon.


The first team, led by Sariel St. James took the field, advancing on the
last known locations of the Terra Cotta in the Northern section of the Mule
Mountains, just to the south of Tombstone. He was accompanied by Thomas Odd,
Danoir, Joan D’Aquitaine, Sara MacAyle, Bishop Abidea, and McKenna
Adrosteas. Upon seeing the statues, the team halted. Sariel performed and
exorcism rite while Joan supported with prayer. Thomas Odd and several
retainers armed with cross-bows shot at the statues, which appeared to be
frozen. 3 of the Terra Cotta burst into bits of rubble from the shots. The
team then advanced on the remaining 2 in sight.


The team halts short, trying to stay out of range of any ranged attacks the
remaining 2 TC may have. Thomas Odd fires and destroys what is left of one
of the remaining two. The retainers fired, harming the remaining TC, causing
great gaping holes in its torso. The clay samurai lets out a war cry and
charges with the full force of a freight train. He impacts a retainer,
impaling him on the adobe katana. The statue then explodes with a blast of
numina, causing multiple deep bruises on a nearby retainer. A hail of arrows
falls around the team, but causes little damage.


Joan’s prayer joins in with Sariel’s next attempt at an exorcism. The
statues again appear frozen. The team closes the distance to the newly
discovered bowmen.


Thomas Odd realizes that the ranged weapons of the bowmen could be
disastrous. He casts Damage Reduction to protect the team. The team moves a
bit closer and holds fire, aiming until they get into better range. The
adobe bowmen loose another volley. A couple of the arrows find their mark
and penetrate one of the retainer’s armor. At this point, the remaining
retainers return fire on the identified target and obliterate one of the
statues. The team advances cautiously.


The prayer and exorcist rite reach a crescendo. The Statues again seem
paralyzed at the might of G-d striking at their core. Now another group of
katana wielding statues is visible, and one lets out a soul-piercing howl
that routes the team momentarily, causing them to flee back down the
mountain.


Through inspiration from Joan and Sariel, the team regains its composure and
advances on the remaining Terra Cotta. Thomas and the retainers fire again,
knowing exactly where their targets are. The shots bring down two of the
swordsmen in a thundering crash of crumbling clay. One of the adobe samurai,
badly damaged, charges and kills one of the retainers. He then explodes in a
blast, knocking two of the remaining retainers to their knees with blood
seeping from their wounds. The remaining retainers heed Sariel’s call to
tighten the lines. The kindred push forward with full force, preparing for
possible melee.


Again, the chants of prayer coming from the LS warriors and faithful seems
to rise to an apex and stop the Terra Cotta in their tracks. Thomas Odd and
the remaining retainers fire again, causing another of the katana-bearers to
crumble. The team reloads.


The team fires one more time, killing the last of the swordsmen in a rain of
crossbow bolts.


 The adobe bowmen fire their arrows, concentrating on a single retainer,
killing him.


 At the height of the wedding and a joint LS and CoC ritual back at the
rack, the clay samurai seem to be stunned by this act of faith. This energy
pulses through the air, motivating the team. The team takes advantage of the
moment and fires 3 volleys of crossbow bolts at the clay archers. They
concentrate on one, and he explodes in a rain of clay. They fire on a second
and miss. Determined, they aim again at the second target and loose a volley
that disintegrates the kyodo warrior.


 The team reloads and advances on the remaining minions of the Father-Demon.
They fire and bring one of the remaining archers down in a cloud of dust.
The archers let out an ear-piercing howl that vibrates through the bones of
the kindred and their remaining retainers. Routed by the mystical energy,
they flee back 300 meters. When they regain their composure, they see the
two remaining archers have turned and fled back towards their master.


 The team tends to their wounded and prepares to assist team 2, if called.




The second team, commanded by Raziel Bellmont in conjunction with Missionary
Rachel, Nathan Prince, Joseph Johnson, and Peter Cross and multiple
retainers marched into the central region of the Mule Mountains, just north
of the town of Bisbee. Their mission was to clear Terra Cotta in sector,
then form a blocking line tied into Team 1 in order to prevent the TC from
moving in and stopping the main effort from getting to the demon father.


The LS and Invictus rise in prayer, led by Missionary Rachel. The Terra
Cotta warriors freeze in their tracks paralyzed by the power of the prayer.
There are 10 of them with Naginata in sight. The team uses the initiative to
move within pistol range. Raziel looks around, shaking his head that none
had come armed with bows or rifles. He can sense this is going to be one
heck of a fight.

Raziel lets loose with a Spear of Faith. It seems to
sputter in the wind as though he was distracted by the thought of having to
advance this close. Peter Cross and the retainers fire their pistols in a
unified report in order to conceal how many are shooting. The shot is times
with the lightning. Two Terra Cotta are torn by the bullets, one falling to
a lump of mud on the ground. The other, badly damaged, lets out a war cry
and charges into the formation. He cuts deep with his naginata into one of
the retainers causing mortal wounds. The Clay warrior then detonates in a
psychic blast injuring those around him and leaving the first retainer a
broken body on the desert floor.

Then a rain of clay arrows descends upon
the formation and another retainer falls, his body filled with arrows.

Rachel pulls out her prayer book and begins to lead in another rousing
testament of faith. The Terra Cotta again are held by some mystical force,
as though the faith of the prayer severed his link to the dark Shinto oni
that commands them. Raziel sends out another spear of faith, this time
hitting its mark with all of G-d’s fury behind it. In declining amounts,
four of the clay warriors have huge chunks of adobe burst from their torsos.

The rest of the team fires their pistols at the most damaged samurai,
realizing that they charge when they have taken too much damage. The focused
fire hits the mark and reduces the statue to a pile of mud and dust in the
torrential rains.


Raziel yells to Rachel to continue the prayer before the monsters can move
again. But the break was all they needed to go back into action. The team
advances closer hoping to do better with melee weapons. Raziel looses
another spear of faith into a different group of warriors. This time five of
them burst with massive chunks of dirt flying off of them, leaving gaping
holes. Two warriors, badly damaged from the blast, charge into the
formation, their initial thrusts causing mortal wounds to two more
retainers. Their detonation kills them, and sends waves of deep wounds to
the rest of the formation.

Peter Cross’s retainers use their vitae to heal
some of their wounds, and the gangrel’s unnatural resilience seem to dampen
the effects of the blast. The clay archers fire. Nathan and Joseph can see
some of their vitae mixing with the rain water as they pull the muddy arrows
from their chests.


Rachel’s prayer rises over the din of the monsoon. The clay automatons stop
dead in their tracks. Raziel lets loose with yet another spear of faith,
this time against the clay bowmen. Four of them looks as though grenades
went off in their chests as dust flies from their bodies. The rest of the
team focuses its pistol fire on the most injured archer. The bullets tear
through it and it falls into a pile of broken pottery.


Thinking he has used the spear on all the terra cotta in sight, Raziel lets
fly a bird of sin. The bird manifests on one of the archers and begins
pecking at its eyes. The affected archer bats at the bird as it is torn to
bits by the ritual. The team fires its pistols again, bullets piercing the
enemy archers and tearing off pieces of clay. The archers return fire,
finding purchase in two of Peter’s retainers. The ghouls use their vitae to
heal from the attack. Joseph finds himself wounded yet again from the damned
arrows. Nathan and Joseph charge at the terra cotta, ripping them down where
they stand. The statues explode causing Nathan and Joseph to take more
damage. The remaining warriors swing at Joseph and he falls into torpor from
the damage, despite burning blood to heal. It was enough to save him, but
not enough to stop the sleep of death to render him inanimate. The rest of
the team advances.


Rachel’s prayer again disrupts the unholy flow that allows the terra cotta
to move. Noticing more archers against the rock wall, Raziel lets loose with
another spear of faith at the new targets. Five of the archers explode with
rock and pottery flying from their forms. Peter Cross fires, destroying what
is left of the most damaged samurai.


Raziel lets loose a bird of sin, as does Rachel. One statue swipes at the
bird once before he collapses in a pile of mud. The other begins to take
damage as the bird will peck away pieces of clay for the next few seconds.

The team can feel the power of the unholy wedding taking place. The union
between the pagan nornir and his invictus bride brought LS and Crone
together to officiate the wedding. Their joint prayer and ceremony sends
tides of faith against the statues, rendering them defenseless and immobile.

Peter and two of his ghouls fire at one statue, destroying it. Nathan
charges in and swipes an archer down with his claws. Price fires and kills
another archer. Raziel and Rachel let loose birds of sin that peck at two of
the bowmen. Cross takes aim focusing his and his four retainers fire and
watch as their target disintegrates in a hail of bullets. The archers fire
but fail to strike a single target. Nathan rides his fury and tears of huge
handfuls of clay from another of the bowmen.


Rachel begins her prayer yet again as two of the birds of sin end two more
of the enemies. Nathan strikes with his claws and brings down anther of the
archers. Raziel lets loose with another bird of sin, and it strikes at one
of the remaining foes.


Only one archer remains, and it is being harried by a bird of sin. Cross and
the retainers focus their pistol fire on the remaining statue, obliterating
it as it begins to attempt to flee back to its master. It takes two steps as
it crumbles to the ground.


 Raziel leans down and picks up a piece of the clay as a souvenir. They grab
their wounded and head for the link-up point hoping to get time to heal.

 Raziel gets word from Joan D’Aquitaine. Kasmir Lanszak has spotted a
formation of terra cotta samurai cavalry headed their way. He has stated
that he thinks he has also spotted the demon father who is yelling
"Conchobar and Green of the Norn, I Bukagi Reichi-oni call you out! Face me
you cowardly worms!"


The team passes around reliquaries and does what it can to heal as much as
possible before the next wave.


 Catching news of the impending cavalry charge, teams one and two joined
forces to fend off the counter-attack. Those too wounded to fight stayed
back and helped each other nurse wounds and spend their vitae to heal.

 Team 3, under Darius Grey sits in reserve, itching for a fight. They know
that if they rush in, the tactics won’t hold. Their job is to plus up
defenses and rush to assist any team that calls. The reports coming in from
teams 4 and 5 are that they are meeting only small resistance as they clear
the Valley to the south (team 4) and southwest (team 5).


 Team 4 under Ruiz finds only small bands of either foot swordsmen or
pole-arm bearers. They use their formation and fight a single unit, seeming
to cut through the soldiers in single passes. They take some bruises, but
nothing that isn’t easily healed. Then they hear of team 1 and 2 joining
together to fend off a cavalry charge. This is what they are good at! Ruiz
changes directions and leads the team into a forced march straight east
towards the mountains.


Team 5, under Orcus, is given the mission to open the valley for the main
effort which is set to strike as soon as the Father-Demon is spotted. They
clear to the Southwest of the Valley towards Carr Canyon. They first
encounter a team of 5 katana wielding foot-soldiers. Their ranged combat
combined with Malachi Decatur’s prayers and rituals make quick work of the
scouting party. They continue closer to the mountains. If they encounter no
more of the walking pottery, then they will set up a defensive barrier at
the mouth of the canyon to stop the creatures from defending their master.
Oddigeson, Desmonov, Telreya, and Solomon Quartermain rounding out the
formation.


 Once they get to the mouth of the canyon, they see a massive group of
mix-matched terra cotta moving purposefully in their direction. Behind them,
at the top of the canyon, they see bands of what appear to be Apache
warriors chasing after the Terra Cotta. The Apaches toss tomahawks and shoot
bows, picking off the terra cotta one at a time.


 Orcus hears that teams 1 and 2 are preparing for a cavalry charge. He just
feels that Ruiz won’t sit still and knows that it is up to him and his team
to protect the west flank for the main attack. He orders the formation to
close in. Telreya and Malachi give a resounding prayer that stops the terra
cotta cold. The Legio formation charges towards the horde, again fighting as
a unit. Quartermain fires rapidly, with deadly accuracy taking huge chunks
of clay off of the terra cotta with each shot. Taking advantage of the
paralyzed pottery, they hack and swipe at the terra cotta until little
remains but small, sharp shards of clay on the canyon floor. Now within
closer view, and much faster than their adobe counterparts, the team sees
that the Apaches are dolls. They also see many of the terra cotta in the
distance, closer to the dolls, freeze. It appears as though vapors of smoke
or steam rise from the clay bodies and seem to hug the dolls. The dolls
raise their weapons and cheer in their native tongue. Oddigeson heals his
wounds and smiles at the rest of the formation.


 Word comes in that another cavalry unit is headed towards them from the
west. The team stands ready to withstand the charge. The Apache dolls take
up ambush positions along the canyon walls  to help dwindle the horsemen as
they come past.


The first two teams joined together, leaving the wounded to the side to heal. They were in no shape to continue the fight this night. Many of them would need to feed soon, as well.

Rachel sends of a bird of sin while Raziel looses a spear of faith. The
Spear of faith tears gaping holes into 3 of the cavalry while the bird of
sin pecks holes into a fourth. The four wounded samurai charge in furiously
and cut down the remaining retainers and ghouls. They detonate sending waves
of psychic damage and shrapnel into the formation. The rest of the cavalry
charge behind them, swiping deep cuts into those still standing.

At the end of the charge, as the horsemen wheel around for another pass, Thomas Odd and
Joan D’Aquitaine are the only two in the formation who haven’t fallen into
the death-like sleep from their wounds. Thomas Odd grabs hold of Joan and
says “We need to fall back and regroup, can you move?”

Joan responds, while running to cover, breaking her normal polite protocol “Encole!”  She then grabs her radio
“Darius Grey!  Pusse ta viande! We need help with wounded.

 The cavalry charges through where the formation was and resets somewhere
back in the mountains. The vampires and retainers in the third team quickly
police up the wounded and the vampires in wound-induced torpor and bring
them to a defensive position in a canyon. They start to devise a means to
attack the quick-moving statues. They can hear the rumble of thunder and the
rumble of hooves.


 Darius tells Henry Taxis to take charge of team 3 and the remaining kindred
from Teams 1 and 2. Henry directs Daniel Morris and Jackie O. to begin
setting barricades and blocking positions. James Coy looks over a ridge and
sees one lone Kindred, Alice Kross, with a formation of DOLLS! Recognizing
the dolls as those Tira Neuman, Kasmir Lanszak, Bear Sundancer, and Vosh had
dressed  to look like local Apache, he lends his vestiges of his mortal
lineage to her formation, directing the Apache dolls to block off the
Cavalry from the rear.


 Darius Grey looks down into the valley and sees a formation of Legio
Mortis! The tactics pour through his mind as if by pure instinct. Darius
takes off at his greatest possible speed and joins the Legio Formation of
Team four and directs them towards the incoming cavalry.


With Darius Grey assuming command of Team 4; Ruiz, Serrano, Castor, Sun Wu,
Wade and Gordivea of the Santcified charge ready their gifts. The gangrel
summon their resilience and pop their claws. They take a wedge formation
like a spearhead. This tactic improves upon those of the Spartan Hoplites,
and the kindred attack and defend as a single entity.


The horsemen charge at the Legio. The Legio charge at the horsemen. Just
before the clash, the Legio tighten their phalynx and hit the cavalry
formation with everything they have, in unison. They tear and slice at the
adobe samurai, stripping legs off of the horses and carving into their
torsos. Hardened clay flies all around them.

The Terra Cotta let out with a tremendous cry as they detonate. The formation suffers slight wounds that
would have been lethal to mortals. Castor passes around his reliquaries so
all may refill with precious vitae, heal, and prepare for the next battle.


 Meanwhile, Team three; under the command of Henry Taxis, plus Joan
D’Aquitaine spot several groups of Terra Cotta samurai foot-soldiers. None
of these seem too concerned with the kindred, but are making a bee-line down
towards the southern most edges of the Valley, just southwest of the town of
Bisbee. As the clay automatons cross into their lines of sight, they fire
with prayer, ritual, and crossbows onto the small formations, reducing them
to just one or two remaining.

James Coy sends word that he and Alice are
mopping up the rest as they pass them by. The apache dolls are taking
damage, but faring well using ambush tactics on the stragglers.


Then comes a furious voice from the depths of the valley. Standing 10
stories tall is a massive vision of a shogun. “Conchobar the Coward and his
baby bitch, Green! I challenge thee! Fight me with honor!”


 At a high rate of speed, come two SUVs. Kindred pile out. One SUV heads up
a mountain to one side, the other to the other side. With a great double-axe
on his back, and garbed in Sioux buckskins, Conchobar looks at the massive
demon and snarls “Here I am. Come and get me, if you dare.”


 The kindred with him take up positions around the demon, seeming to make a
circle around Conchobar and the shogun. The vengeance-father booms “Give me
your daughter as you have taken mine or face my wrath, vampire.” Conchobar
responds, “Try to take her!”


 Sebastien Belmont jumps from one shadow to another, getting behind the
demon. Bjorn and Green of the Norn flank Prince Conchobar. A two shots ring
out from the mountains, one piercing the demon’s mask just below its eye.
Abahay comes from under his cloak of darkness and strikes with his claws at
the demon. Conchobar strikes as well, to the demon’s leg. The rest of the
kindred attack. The demon wails from the pain caused by the attack. In the
mist from the rain, spirits sent by the forsaken to avenge the clay
creature’s theft of the essence from loci bite and sting at the demon.

Waves of energy and power pulse at the demon, seeming to come from the the Rack.
Vosh, Bear, and Daniel of Canterbury are calling out their power in a
massive joint ritual.


 The demon swipes, knocking down one of the kindred. He then lets out an
earth-shaking howl that sends many of the kindred running in unnatural fear.

 Now they are angry. Conchobar rides the wave, staying just short of a
frenzy. All of the kindred jump onto the demon. Abahay, Gabriel, and another
gangrel climb onto the beast and tear at it with their claws. Prince Belmont
swipes at the demon, causing him to howl in pain. Conchobar and Bjorn tear
at the demon’s inner thighs. They bring the demon down, screaming “No! No!
No!”  The demon’s form wisps away in tendrils of mist and shadow as his
physical form disintegrates under the assault.


 “He isn’t gone,” states Sebastian. Prince Belmont then invokes his ability
to strike into the shadows and begins to slash at where the demon stood.
Piercing the dark and coupling with the thunder, all the kindred in the bowl
can hear “No! No! No!”  The trio casting the joint ritual push out their
power, stunning the demon, even in his shadow form. The demon continues to
wail “No! No! No!”


Cheering on Sebastian Belmont, Conchobar starts to sing the Nornir chant. Bjorn, Green, and Tira join in. Soon, the rest of the group is chanting with Prince Conchobar, seeming to lend the energy of the Nornir bloodline to Prince Belmont. The vigor and ferocity of  the Nornir Chant cuts into the spirit realm, driving the demon to his knees.



 Relentlessly, Prince Sebastian lands blow after blow onto the demon. After
several blows, the shadow form explodes, sending waves of energy across the
Valley. The wave traces back to the “Hoe-Down” and rips into Bear, Vosh and
Daniel of Canterbury, injuring them and driving them to ground in pain. But
the pain gives over to smiles of victory.


 Team 5 sees the cavalry unit charging. The tomahawks and bows from the
apache tear chunks of earth from the horde. However, thirty strong, the unit
takes little damage. The team braces for the clash of the charge, prepared
to counter-strike in the melee.

Just as the formation is about to impact the kindred, a pulse of energy strikes and the horsemen disintegrate into a wave of mud and pieces of pottery. Telreya looks over at Oddigeson and says “You
need a bath”.


 Kasmir reports back to Prince Conchobar that all of the terra cotta fall
apart. All of the apache dolls walked back to Elysium and the ghosts that
animated them seem to have gone back to join their tribes. He then leaves to
help the fighters find safe places to hunt and heal. Daniel of Canterbury
travels with him and offers his reliquaries to waken those rendered into
torpor from their wounds.



This is an account of the "Heroic Battle of Southern Arizona" as presented through Live-Action Roleplay, a form of improvised theater. This battle occurred at the (AZ-009-D) Nomads of Twilight's Regional Featured Game of the Month in August 2011. The tale is a shared story written by the storytellers and the players. All Rights are reserved by the Camarilla. Paul-Gregory Matuszak, US2005065516, Venue Storyteller for AZ-009D Requiem. Vampire the Requiem is Copyright by White Wolf Games. The Camarilla Club utilizes the system on a global-scale chronicle with permission.

Lead Us, But Lead Us Not

For the majority of his youth, Michael had been slight for his age. With this perceived disadvantage so came the bullying in the schoolyard and at the local playground.
The bullying and taunting intensified when he started playing baseball in the local little league program. Because of his size, he was always assigned to right field. Because of the local rules, the coach was forced to play everybody on the team for at least three innings. Michael always started the games, playing the first three so that the bigger and better kids were in the game for the final six. Of course, he also batted last and was told not to swing. He was small, so his strike zone was far more difficult to hit. The coaches decided that a walk would be a man on base, but Michael trying to hit the ball would result in an out or double play.
One game, Michael was frustrated with not being allowed to "swing away". With a runner on second, Michael bunted down the first base line, advancing the runner to third. What the coaches failed to recognize was Michael's speed. He was on first base and taunting the opposing team to throw the ball to second before any player could even get a grasp on the ball. Of course, he forced the error on a wild throw, and made it to second. The runner made it home, giving Michael's team an early lead. However, Michael was taken out of the game in the third inning. In addition, the coach gave him a lecture on following directions.
When the team ended up losing the game on an in-the-park home run in the ninth inning, it somehow became Michael's fault because they "would have won if some people listened and did what the coach said". Michael responded searching for accolades for his bunt. The team ended up running the perimeter of the park 20 times because of his arrogance. Michael got his nose broken and his briefs pulled halfway up his back from other members of his team. Six boys from the team circled around Michael while Hank, the chubby catcher and biggest bully of the bunch, slapped Micheal around and gave him a "Melvin". The coaches stood by cheering the whole time.
In an act of defiance, Michael struck out swinging in his one at-bat the next game, two days later. He suffered jeers and teasing from the rest of his team, led by Hank, that day and during the next two successive practices. The whole team, to include the coaches were against him, it seemed.
All of them joined in the mob mentality of picking on the little guy, except for Vinnie. Vinnie was the team's superstar. Vinnie appeared to be a natural at baseball. He was the league's best pitcher with a remarkable fastball for a 10-year-old. He also led the league in RBIs and had the best batting average with a .800. It seemed that every time Vinnie stepped up to the plate, he knocked the ball out of the park.
What made it appear that Vinnie was such a great player was that he was able to do all of this despite his having to leave games or practices early on Tuesdays and Thursdays for some unknown reason. He also was late to several Saturday games due to some other commitment. What the rest of the team didn't know was that Vinnie spent at least an hour a day all year round with his father practicing baseball. What the rest of the team also didn't know was that baseball wasn't Vinnie's only athletic activity.
After the particularly second practice, Michael walked over to his bike, doing his best to hide the tears welling in his eyes. He knew the tears would just goad the rest of the team into punishing him more. The usually quiet and soft-spoken Vinnie rallied the rest of the team around him. He spoke of teamwork and unity. He told the others that the only way the team could be great would be if everybody pulled their weight and helped each other to improve. He then told them that he didn't think that what they did to Michael was right. Vinnie's eyes peered directly into Hank's the entire time. He walked away from the rest of the team and stopped Michael before he could ride away.
Vinnie waited until the other kids were gone. He took Michael back on the field and threw him some slow pitches, gradually increasing the speed. He told Micheal to just connect with them, not to swing all the way through. He worked on technique and focus. Soon, Micheal was hitting the ball into left-center, a perfect hole for a base hit. Vinnie cheered each time he had to run back to retrieve the ball for the next pitch. "Look, Micheal, you have to listen to the coach. But here's the deal. If that pitcher actually puts one into your strike zone, and you hit it like that, well, there's nothing anybody can say. With your speed, you'll have a double every time. The coaches won't stop you from swinging anymore."
"Thanks Vinnie"
"Hey, Michael, one more thing. What are you doing Saturday morning?"
"Watching cartoons. Other than that, nothin' "
"I'll have my dad pick you up at eight."
"Huh?"
"There's somebody I want you to meet."

That Saturday morning, Micheal sat on his front porch in anticipation. He had no idea what Vinnie's plan was or where they were going. Michael expected it would have something to do with baseball, so he wore a sweatsuit and had his glove. In a backpack, he had a nice pair of jeans and a cool shirt in case it wasn't baseball. Vinnie's father pulled up and Vinnie motioned for Micheal to get in the car. "Sorry we're late, I had some chores to do. But Dad says we'll still be there in time."
The whole ride, Michael berated father and son to tell him where they were headed. The two just grinned and shook their heads. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a boarded-up store. A older man motioned them inside and patted Micheal on the head. "So this is the 'new brother' you were bragging about? Well, Vinnie, we'll see how he measures up."
The man's words welled anxiety into Micheal's heart. Micheal wondered what they would be expecting of him in this strange place. The old man told Micheal to take off his shoes and place his bag, shoes, and baseball glove in the corner.
"Sir, what is this place? Why am I here?"
"Micheal, this is a sacred place. It is my school. I teach boys to be men. I teach men to be warriors."
"So you're going to teach me how to fight?"
"I teach people how to defend themselves and to defend others. I teach how to fight if you must. I also teach how to not fight unless it can be helped. I teach a way of life. That I'm going to teach you anything is yet to be seen. Now, here are my rules. Do what I say as I say or show to do it. Do not question what I say, only how. Never say that you are sorry, to me, only that you will do better. Do better. The words 'I can't' are forbidden here. Whatever I teach you must never be used in anger. You must never use what I teach you to harm anybody else unless you absolutely have no other choice. The other students in this school will be your brothers and sisters. You must always stand up for what is best for them, just like you should for your own family. Never be disrespectful of your parents. Study hard in school. Practice 'the way' at all times. Never dishonor your family, this school, or yourself. Can you follow these rules?"
"I.."
"That is a 'yes, sir' or a 'no, sir'. You must make that choice, here an now. Here is where you are. Now is the time of choosing. This is a choice that can shape the rest of your life. This choice is your first lesson. It is also the most important one. So, once more time, Michael. Will you follow these rules?"
"Yes, sir."
"Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, you will be here without fail, as long as you are a member of this school. You will recite these rules at the beginning and end of each class. Vinnie has a copy of our book at home. I gave it to him on Thursday, to give to you when the time was right. Ask him for it."
"Yes, sir."
"You learn quickly. Now, go to that corner, sit on your heels, and watch the class. Do not ask anything. Do not make a sound. Do not move from that spot until I tell you to, for any reason."
Micheal obeyed. He watched in amazement the different things the other students could do. They could move with such grace, speed, and power it was entrancing.  He listened to the teacher's words, and let them fill his mind. Questions formed, then answered themselves. Near the end of the class, the teacher motioned for Micheal to join them. He introduced Michael to the rest of the class. Then the class circled around him.
"Michael, it is time to see if you learned anything today. Relax and clear your mind. think of nothing. I do not mean to not think of anything. I mean think about what 'nothing' is. Close your eyes and trust us."
Michael did as he was told. The world spun and he found himself on his back on the mat. "Stand up and do it again". Micheal obeyed, but he was more tentative. Again, he ended up on the mat. "Michael, to learn to walk, you have to crawl, then stand, then fall. Trust and unity are the same way. Now, go to that end of the mat. Think of nothing. Feel the way your body works. Walk from there to the other end. Do not stop. Do not raise a hand. Oh, and Micheal, do not open your eyes for anything."
Michael again did what he was told. Sometimes, he felt the world spin. He expected to feel the mat strike his face, but it didn't. Other times, he stepped and he felt a slight touch turn him in another direction. He was tempted to open his eyes to re-orient his direction. He avoided the temptation and squinted them tighter. then he felt himself lifted into the air by many hands.
"Open your eyes, Michael. You did it." Michael was suddenly aware that some of the other students pushed him around, struck him, and threw him in order to test his resolve. Others pushed him back to the correct course, back onto his path.
The rest of the class held him up and carried him to the center. One of the other students pointed to a spot and told Michael to stand there. the rest of the class formed into a rectangle with Micheal at the back, left corner. The class bowed to the teacher. Then they recited the rules.


Michael diligently continued to attend the classes. He also started practicing baseball with Vinnie for a half-hour before or after every regular practice and game. The two quickly became close friends. Hank noticed this and started to jibe and taunt Vinnie about it. Vinnie always responded with a quiet grin. the other team members began to take notice. A schism seemed to develop, half the team remaining loyal to Hank while the other half siding with Vinnie. In all of this, Vinnie seemed to take no side but Michael's. The season ended with a loss in the championship game. Hank used the loss as an excuse to, once again, blame little Michael for all that was wrong in the little league world.
Eight months passed. Michael continued with his training at the school. He discovered that the martial art he was learning was a form of Bujitsu,  the way of the Samurai. But it was a ryu, or school, developed by the teacher. The school he attended was the only of its kind in the world, the only one that taught this particular style. The teacher had traveled the world as a young man and learned several styles of martial arts, to include traditional Japanese Karate and Aikido. What he taught was a blend of these various styles.
He also heard rumors that the teacher had studied with monks in Tibet and various spiritual leaders around the world. He heard adults use another name for the teacher. Micheal later learned that name to mean "bringer of peace" in some other language. Michael fond it odd that a teacher of fighting would have such a title. One day, after class, Michael asked the teacher about it. The teacher responded only that some people use names and titles for others because it helps them to categorize the roles of the others is in their life. He said that many called him "bringer of peace" because he insists on battling against unnecessary conflict with peace and kindness. "I battle force with leverage. Most of the time, the best leverage is to be gentle or give in without giving up. That is our way."
Baseball season began again with practices and team meetings. Hank continued to badger and taunt both Michael and Vinnie. During the third practice of the season, the coach insisted upon batting practice. Hank retorted that letting Michael bat was a waste of time, since he wasn't allowed to swing anyway. Micheal did as Vinnie had coached him. He let the ball go past him seven times because it was not in "the zone". Then the coach snickered when he saw the sign that Hank gave him. It was for an inside fastball. Because he found some bit of malicious humor to it, he let one rip. Out of control, it smacked Micheal in the helmet.
"Oh, no, the little baby's gonna cry!" Hank belted out in response.
To everybody's amazement, Michael stood up, dusted himself off, and stepped back into the box. "Coach, could you please throw me a strike for once? The kids on the other teams throw better than that."
The coach responded with another heater. This one was a fastball that could have come from a professional minor-league pitcher. Michael swung the bat and met the ball. The ball flew to the bottom of the fence in left-center field. The rest of the team stood with mouths agape as Vinnie cheered his friend. Hank took this as a personal affront, an attack on his character.
After the practice, Hank and his band of six surrounded Michael with the intent of giving him another bloody nose and "Melvin", at the very least.
Vinnie walked up, followed by the rest of the team. "Hank, what's the matter? Do you need six people to fight your battles for you?"
"What, you here to fight his battles for him? I don't need these guys. Does little Mikey-wikey need his bodyguard to defend him?"
"Actually, Hank, I'm here to see that you don't get hurt. We need our catcher this year."
"Me, get hurt?"
The rest of the team laughed with Hank.
"Michael, remember the rules. Don't hurt him more than you have to."
Hank rushed at Micheal. Micheal moved to the side and tripped Hank. "Hank, just let it go. I don't want to fight."
"You mean you don't want your ass kicked again," replied Hank as he stood up and rushed in swinging. Michael blocked the punches and responded with a single punch to Hank's midsection. Hank doubled over and fell to the ground. Micheal reached down to try to help Hank back to his feet.
"I'd want to be your friend and team mate, Hank. Friends and team mates don't fight each other."
Hank responded by slapping Michael's hand away. Michael offered his hand again. Hank took it and allowed Micheal to help him to his feet. Once there, he tightened his grip and tried to pull Micheal into a bear hug. Micheal ducked and curtsied,  allowing Hank to fall over Micheal and land on the ground to the other side. By now, the other kids were laughing at Hank's failure. Micheal looked at Vinnie.
"That's enough. This isn't funny!" yelled Vinnie. The other kids looked stunned. Again, Michael offered to help Hank to his feet. Hank was crying in embarrassment. He got to his feet and began to run home.
Twenty minutes later, Vinnie and Michael knocked on Hank's door. When Hank finally succumbed to his mother's goading, he came to the door. "Hank, about today, we're really sorry. Vinnie and me have been talking. What are you doing Saturday morning? There is somebody we want you to meet."

35 years later, three men met at a local bar. They shared a friendship and a bond that had grown stronger with the years. Hank was still Hank. Hank had become a psychologist specializing in family counseling and teen crisis therapy. Vinnie was now "Coach" or "Mr. P". Vinnie made it onto a major league baseball team, but was cut after one season. He decided not to pursue that path. Instead, he decided to follow his life-long ambition as a high school math teacher and baseball coach. Michael was now known as "Cale". He had just retired from the military, having served numerous tours at war. He was preparing to travel in order to work on his doctorates in philosophy and spirituality. This was his homecoming and farewell party.
A drunken thirty-something  bumped, spilling both of their drinks. The drunk immediately became confrontational. Hank apologized and offered to replace the man's beer.
"For your clumsiness I ought to beat the beer out of you."
"Hank..."
"Yeah, yeah... I remember the rules." Hank turned to the man as Vinnie and Cale pulled bills out of their pockets and handed them to Hank. "Let us buy you and your friends another round, friend."
Hank turned to hand the money to the bartender. The drunk drew back his fist to hit Hank. Cale deflected the blow and turned the drunk to face him. Gripping the man's hand, he shook it. "I'm Cale and I'm damned glad to meet you. I always say that nobody can ever have enough friends." The drunk's demeanor shifted, softened.
"Hey, dude, I'm sorry. I had a bad day."
"Everybody has those now and then. Tell ya what, why don't we all sit down and see if me, my friends, you, and your friends can't all turn a bad day into a good night, together."
The night went on. As they were preparing to head home, Hank and Vinnie asked Cale what he was planning to do after he got back from his trip.
"I'm planning on re-opening the school, and I can sure use a couple of assistant peace-bringers."

A Long Walk Home

This is an excerpt of one of the books I am writing. I have a couple of novels I am working on, and I add a chapter or two whenever the muse hits me. I posted an excerpt a couple of years ago on my old profile. This excerpt contains the original posting plus an additional snippet.

No, this is not the whole tale. The ending is far from in sight. This is more of a sort of outline of the work and abridged versions of two of the earlier chapters.

Please tell me what you think. If you are not a fan of military/war/adventure novels, this may not appeal to you at first. But it is also a love story and a story of loyalty and faithfulness. It is a tale of the tenacity of the heart. I hope you enjoy it.

------------------------------------------------------------------

....................................

The Long Walk Home (part one)

.. ..

Colin kissed his crucifix. The other members of the team each had their rituals. Many wondered why Colin had his. They thought it silly. Colin was not Christian, yet he always kissed his crucifix before a mission like a Cuban baseball player before stepping to bat with the bases loaded. But they had long since accepted it to be his way. Chris tied knots in a piece of parachute cord. John listened to dark-wave, electronic, or classical music on his MP3 player. Colin the non-Christian kissed his crucifix. Then he turned and spoke to the team leader.

“Mike, I have a bad feeling about this one.”

Mike smirked and replied, “That’s just your fear of heights acting up again. You had a bad feeling about the last one, too.”

“Yeah, and Johnny caught one in the chest.”

John looked up and clicked his MP3 player off. He tapped the new protective plate in his vest, and smiled. “And you sent the bastard to his maker while I kicked the snot out of his RPG carrying buddy, if I remember right. These things work wonders, buddy. Trust in your equipment and trust in your brothers, just like we always say, right?”

Colin tucked the crucifix back into his uniform. What everybody failed to realize was that his wife gave him that crucifix on the day of their wedding. She was raised Catholic, but had turned agnostic since joining the Army. She still held to some of her catechism. The cross was a symbol of her love and faith in him, not a symbol of some god. When Colin kissed the crucifix, he kissed Jenna.

The crew chief stood up and raised 2 fingers. That meant two minutes until insertion. Johnny handed his MP3 player off to the crew chief. Mike and Paul handed letters, already addressed. Colin looked back at the other helicopter that carried the rest of the team. He checked the anchor of the ropes and the fit of his gloves. He tapped the coil of his rope with his foot. Paul did the same on the other side. They looked across at each other. “Thirty seconds!” announced the crew chief. Colin and Paul kicked the ropes off. “GO!” and they were down the ropes and on the ground in seconds.


It was a mile to the final rally point. It was a quiet movement. Colin thought it was too quiet. If this were a leader’s safe house, it would have seemed appropriate if some sort of security were set up. Intelligence indicated that the building across the street held a lookout position. “5 up, code 4,” chirped the radio. That was Don. That meant he took the position, subdued the lookout there, and was in a good sniper’s over-watch position. “7 up, code 4”, chirped the radio. That meant Ron had done the same. “Black 6, code 4”, chirped the radio one last time. That meant the supporting unit was in place. Mikes voice came over the radio “This is 6, line 1 code 4. We are a go. I say again, we are a go”.

.. ..

Colin signaled to Paul and Johnny. They set security while Mike and he moved to the objective building. “In”, Mike said and the other three moved in. Chris bent down and made a rung out of his hands. Colin stepped into Chris’s hands and looked over at Mike. Mike nodded in affirmation. Chris boosted Colin up to the window ledge, and placed a small ball of explosives against the window frame. He carefully pushed a blasting cap into it and shimmied back down. He remained with one foot in Chris’s hands ready to jump back up. Paul made a rung and prepared to push John up right behind him. Mike set a charge on the basement window beneath it.

Colin and Mike counted to three, silently, and simultaneously detonated both charges. Like a finely choreographed ballet, Colin and Mike were in their respective windows. John was in the upper window right behind Colin; Paul and Chris followed Mike.

Then the fireworks commenced. Something exploded in the basement. The entire house lit up, for a fraction of a second, like a summer’s day. The first floor caved-in on top of Mike, Chris, and Paul’s bodies. The pressure of the blast’s concussion felt like a sledgehammer to Colin’s head and legs. He felt the floor crumble beneath his feet as he and John fell. He saw the iron bar thrust through the side of John’s ribs, where no protective plate could stop it. Everything was ringing in his ears, but he swore he heard John’s death rattle.

Colin struggled against the blackness to move, but his legs were pinned under something. His ears were still ringing, but he thought he heard Arabic voices. Then he felt a slam against his head just as darkness overtook consciousness.

.. ..

.. ..

Colin awoke, still in darkness. He felt his arms restrained behind his back and he struggled to loose them. His legs were also bound, and in pain. His head was throbbing, and his ears were filled with the din of an engine. He felt the movement of the vehicle around him. A sharp pain invaded the side of his head as he felt a strike against it. Then he felt the pinch of a needle being stuck into his arm. All the pain and other sensations numbed and blended into a floating sensation as consciousness escaped him.


The scents of sea salt, decaying blood, urine, and sweat met Colin as he regained consciousness. He knew by the smell of the ocean that he was no longer in ....Kenya..... He tried to move his arms, again, but found them still bound. However, they were now tied to the arms of a chair instead of behind his back. His legs still hurt. They, too, were bound to the chair. The chair was made of thick wood. It was sturdy and did not give to his physical protests.

The sudden flood of sunlight gave Colin an instant migraine as the bag was removed from his head. Somebody was screaming at him in Arabic. Colin recognized the language but spoke little of it. The yelling continued and soon was accompanied by slaps and blows. Then a voice spoke calmly.

“Tell me your name soldier. That they are asking right now is your name and unit. If you tell them, they will stop.”

Colin looked at the figure that spoke in English. He recognized the face. The voice and face belonged to a leader of a Middle-Eastern terrorist group. The group had been supporting the insurgency in ....Kenya..... They supplied fighters, weapons, ammunition, and experts to numerous small insurgent armies. Their purpose was not to set up any faction to win, but destabilize all of ....Kenya..... That was why US forces remained there after they deposed ....Kenya....’s tyrannical leader.

“No? Well, then perhaps we shall demonstrate what happens when you are no longer of any use to us? We make a final use of you.”

Two hooded figures dragged in another soldier. The soldier struggled but was evidently drugged and wounded. Another two men brought in an unconscious, shaved lamb. Two more entered carrying in a video camera and a spotlight.

They turned on the camera. The terrorist leader spoke, in Arabic to the camera, reading from the Quran. He spoke again into the camera. They pushed the other soldier to the ground. The Camera followed the movement. The terrorist leader unsheathed a saber and held it above his head. He then cried “Allah Akbar” and brought it down with all his might into the bared neck of the other soldier.

He pointed at Colin. He made another short statement. Colin felt himself thrown to the ground beside the other soldier. He glanced over at the headless body. He recognized the man’s unit patch. They picked up the other soldier’s head and chanted. The leader raised the sword again and brought it down. Colin’s face was splattered with the blood and bile of the shaved lamb as the saber severed its body. The terrorists continued to chant. Colin closed his eyes and fought back the bile that was creeping up in his throat.

“Now, nameless soldier, nobody will come looking to find you. You are alone. Your country abandons you as does your Christian god.”


Jenna woke up. It was Saturday morning and she should have been sleeping late. However, her tour in ....Kenya.... had made it difficult to sleep some nights. Last night was one of those nights. Horrific visions invaded her dreams, even those that started out nice. Last night started with a dream about her and Colin walking in the park near their new house.

He hadn’t even seen the new place. They picked the lot together, but the contractors finished building it after he deployed. She handled moving in on her own. Well, the task wasn’t completely done on her own. Many of her soldiers helped. The dream was a vision of the future. It was a harbinger of happiness. Colin was anticipating retiring within a year after returning from this tour. She had decided not to re-enlist and separate from service in two years. This was where they decided they would make their new lives together.

Yesterday was her birthday. Jenna expected Colin to call, but he didn’t. She imagined that Colin was busy. She knew he wouldn’t forget. Colin never forgot these things. Colin celebrated the anniversary of their first date, their first kiss, and they day they moved in together into the apartment in ....Arizona..... That was before he was chosen for this unit. Jenna accepted an assignment in ....Florida...., knowing that Colin and she intended to retire there.

Jenna looked through the stack of junk mail from the previous week. Among the various envelopes containing credit card applications and high-speed internet ads, she found it. She discovered a card from Colin. She opened it to find a humorous card with two letters on folded paper within. She unfolded the first one to find a poem Colin wrote for her. Tears streamed down her face in joy. “I love you too, hon. God I miss you so much”.

Jenna poured a glass of cola and walked into the living room. She turned on the television intending to find some pointless movie that would serve as background noise while she surfed the internet for funny pictures. The news came on and there was a tape showing her husband and another man. She turned up the volume. The reporter stated “… apparently beheaded PFC Scott Johnson and another unidentified soldier as a statement to the ..US.. to get out of ....Kenya.....”

She let the glass fall from her fingers. She fell to her knees in anguish and screamed “NO!!!!” A knock came at the door. Two men in uniforms came running in.

“My god, they aired the tape.”

“Sergeant Everson, we came here to tell you. We are so sorry. If…”

“Get the FUCK! Out of my House! It isn’t true. They’re lying. You’re lying. Get the FUCK out of here!”

.. ..

.. ..

.. ..

.. ..

Part 2

.. ..

A week later, Jenna stood by the side of a grave at the post cemetery. A military chaplain was finishing some catholic prayer. The only thought teeming in Jenna’s head was that Colin would hate his funeral being officiated by a Catholic Priest. But his records were not completely accurate in regards to his religion.

For a quiet ceremony, it felt like too many people were there. Colin’s father sat stoically as though this were just another event in Colin’s life. The man actually had sat up proud when men from Colin’s unit presented a eulogy about Colin’s service to something greater than himself. Colin’s funeral seemed like nothing more than a spelling-bee or high school football game to his father. Colin’s mother was not at the funeral. It may have been too much for the woman to bear.

.. ..

This week had been hell for Jenna. Luckily, the military assigned somebody to help her with all of the funeral arrangements. The hardest part was sitting at the funerals for other members of Colin’s unit. While their wives, sons, daughters, and mothers cried for each of them, all Jenna could feel was anger. She was angry because Colin was dead, too. She was angry because her husband had been made a public example yet remained anonymous. Colin’s death had been in vain. The worst part was that none of the next-of-kin had been given any answers on how it happened. Only Jenna knew exactly how her spouse was killed. This caused many of the other mourning to resent Jenna. None cared that she, too, was in pain. None of them cared that Jenna needed answers as well. None of this made sense.

As they folded the flag, the hand of an unknown military officer came resting on Jenna’s shoulder. The sergeant in charge of the burial detail handed Jenna the flag. She stiffened her face, hoping to show no expression. She wanted to hide her grief so she wouldn’t look weak like she had seen her fellow grieving widows as they fell to pieces. She was not going to be like them. Jenna Everson, ....Sergeant.., ..US.... Army was not going to cry in public.

The salute detail fired their three volleys. Jenna shuddered at the first. It brought painful memories from her tour “over there”. The second made her think of what Colin must have gone through the day of that fateful fight. The third marked a coffin nail to Jenna. It was the finale of her husband’s life. To her, that third volley was what killed him, not the beheading he suffered. She began to break down.

Her attention wandered to the empty coffin they were lowering into the ground. She thought it irresponsible for the government not to have recovered Colin’s body. She thought it more irresponsible that she wasn’t told about how this happened. But Jenna had one card to play that the other spouses and families didn’t. She had a way to find out. She still had her access to things where she worked. She no longer cared if it cost her career; Jenna made a determined decision to find out the truth.

.. ..

.. ..

.. ..

.. ..

Colin woke with his arms and legs stiff and sore. They kept him bound when they let him sleep. They also kept a hood over his head. The bindings and hood were removed only when they allowed him to eat. They fed him scarce bits of the remnants his captors ate. He wasn’t sure if they fed him once a day or once every few days. He slept as much as he could between beatings and interrogations. They continued to ask him the same thing over and over again. It felt like he had been held for over a month.

But Colin learned to tell how many days passed by the change in the temperature and the dampness of the cell. He was kept in a small cell near the ocean. The cell was dug into the ground. The walls were of a hasty and poor concrete job that allowed the seawater to seep in during high tide.

Colin used the interrogation times to conduct mental and physical workouts of a sort. He knew he had to do what he could to maintain as much of his fitness as possible. While they interrogated him, he made motions of resistance that he was using to conduct isometric exercises. Once, he actually stretched the ropes that bound him enough he could have slipped out. But there were too many guards on him at that time, so he acted as though the bindings still tightly restrained him. They fed him not long after and retied the ropes, so the opportunity was missed.

He was awake in his cell. From the ambient temperature and the damp floor he could tell it was late in the evening. They would be coming to feed him soon. He relished the opportunity to conduct some yoga stretches after they left him to pick through the scraps they tossed him. This always helped with circulation and kept his limbs from going too numb when they rebound him. For now, he conducted his isometric exercises and moved as much as he could to increase his blood flow.

The guards came and unlocked the door. This time there were only two. They must have thought that he was weakening. Usually, 3 men with rifles came in while a forth undid the ropes and removed the hood. Then, usually, a fifth brought in the food.

Colin could hear the footsteps of only two. He could smell the food. It smelled still warm and fresh. Colin tested the ropes. Again, his isometrics had stretched them. They were loose and he was able to wiggle one of his arms almost free. He left it partially bound so it seemed he was still tightly restrained. His legs could easily kick off the ropes that held him by the ankles.

The man came and took off the hood. Colin could see that this time there were only the two. The one who took off his hood spoke, in broken English.

”Now you shall eat like a pig. You are no longer a man to us. You are a pet, like a pig, unclean and kept only to hunt for fungus we use to make stew.”

The man placed the bowl of stew in front of Colin’s face but made no move to unbind him. He could tell they meant to dehumanize him by forcing him to shove his own face in the bowl and eat like a dog, without his hands. The one holding the gun turned to head out of the room. The other turned to follow.

Colin freed his hands and legs and made his move. He swept his leg around and tripped the one who carried in the food. The man came down hard and cracked his head on the concrete floor and was out cold. A small stream of blood began to trickle from the back of his head.

Colin didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet and wrestling the rifle from the armed guard in a split second. He raised his knee and kicked the guard in the groin. He followed up this attack with a twist of his body and an elbow to the guard’s temple. He stepped in with the leg closer to the man’s body and brought down his center of mass. Colin then came up under the rifle and threw the guard to the ground, thus freeing the rifle. He followed this up with a kick to the man’s neck that shattered the guard’s trachea. Colin came down with the butt of the rifle onto the man’s face. He put all of his body weight behind the final blow.

Colin walked back to the first guard. He wanted to be sure the man was dead so he couldn’t come to and sound the alarm. Colin grabbed the man’s head with both his hands and jerked it around quickly. With a quick “crack” the man’s cervical spine snapped. Colin wiped the blood off his hands and onto the man’s shirt. He ejected the magazine from the rifle and made an assessment of how many bullets were in it. It appeared full, plus or minus a round or two.

....................

He peered out into the hall. There were three empty chairs where guards should have been. Colin counted on one of them being the man he took the rifle from. That meant at least two others were nearby. The chairs were near a doorway. Colin quickly moved to the edge of the door and peered outside. The sun was just beginning to set. He listened to the sounds waves crashing on the beach and heard them broken by the sound of the evening call to prayer. He surmised that the other guards must be outside preparing themselves to pray.

Colin lowered himself to the floor and crawled out the door. He made his way behind a rock and looked out towards the beach. About 100 feet away, three men were kneeling and wiping sand against their brows. Colin edged around the rock and aimed at the closest one. He watched as they genuflected and prayed. As the prayer ended he fired a shot through the man’s head. He fired 3 more shots into the other two men, killing them.

The men had their rifles on the ground next to them. Two were also wearing pistols. Colin recovered the full magazines from the three men and took the two pistols plus an extra clip for each. He stuffed the pistols into his sagging belt and shoved the rifle magazines into his pockets. Then Colin ran for the shore. He knew the rising tide would cover his tracks. He ran for a few feet in one direction on the water’s edge. He took a step into the tide and turned the other way, masking his evasion route.

Colin ran until near sunrise, taking only a few breaks to catch his breath. He saw the outskirts of a port city on the horizon as the sun was barely beginning to grant the new day its glamor. Colin saw a fishing dock and nestled himself underneath for a short nap. He knew that moving in the mid-day sun would be harsh, but trying to rest in it would be a waste of energy. He knew that upon waking, his first order of business would be to find some clothes that would help him better blend in with the locals. But for now, he needed to conserve some energy. This was more than likely going to prove to be a long day and a longer week.

One Morning in Brisbale...

Though I don't usually openly admit this to most people, I am a bit of a gamer. No, I don't spend my spare waking hours and precious should-be-sleeping hours sitting in front of a monitor while computer generated avatars do, whatever. I own a console system and some cool games for it. But I know that if I pop one in, I will play for 3 days straight and miss out on life. So, I usually do not play games on it.

I do, however, satisfy a guilty pleasure of playing various Role-Playing Games. I mean the social-style games that require a certain amount of face-to-face player interaction. To amplify this vice, I also "run" two games in addition to the others I play. One is a Live-Action Roleplay (LARP) hosted by the Camarilla gaming club. The other game I host and referee is the setting for the following short.


First, I must introduce the cast of characters:


Elfrida -- A tall, human female with flowing red hair and a vicious nature. She is an assassin, and all that entails. To make this character a little more interesting, it happens to be played by my buddy Jared. For some reason, he always finds himself playing female roles. I'm glad he is secure in his manhood (and his wife keeps a secure hold on his manhood).


Blue -- Blue is a Dwarven slayer. That means, when Blue was young, somebody insulted Blue's courage and honor. So, Blue set out to prove Blue's reputation by taking quests to kill something big, ugly, evil, and otherwise annoying. Blue liked hunting greenies so much that Blue sort of just stuck with the gig. It turns out that Blue is quite good at killing things. Blue is also good at socializing, as long as the social setting involves fighting, ale, mead, and mostly Dwarves. Oh, I don't refer to Blue as "he" or "she" because, well, all Dwarves have beards. Blue has an axe, and a blue mohawk. Blue also has runes tattooed on Blue's skull. So, we don't know Blue's sex and really don't want to endure the pain of asking. Blue is played by Jared's lovely wife and my good friend, Kate. Kate is ALL female.


Kohoi -- I always have to check the spelling and probably still have it wrong. I think the player would do me a solid and just write the name in kanji so I may actually understand it. In any case, K is our resident elven cleric. He's a goody-goody of a sort that does well in a scrape and doesn't get too preachy. Mostly he finds some great quest good for his professional development just in time to realize the rest of the party is leaving. Unfortunately, these side quests would make for good role-play and I tend to feel bad that K is stuck missing out on something. Well, it just so happens I made it up to him during the last game. K is played by Michael, a great guy. Michael runs the Requiem venue for our local Camarilla Domain. So, I use this game to get back at him for being an evil storyteller. 


Malina -- She is another elf. As elves go, she is pretty quiet. She is also an assassin of some talent. However, she is getting tired of killing for cash and is looking for another job; one with animals. Being a combat vet, I empathize. In most fights, she stays reserved and only acts when absolutely necessary. Malina is played by Leah Colburn.


"Shad" -- nobody knows his real name. He may have once been an assassin. Now, nobody is sure what he does. However, people tend to talk to him and give him information that he puts together into some form of idea about what is going on. Shad is our third elf. Shad is portrayed by my old friend, Carl, AKA Spookee. Carl has a twisted sense of humor. So, although the character will act in seriousness, he tends to get caught up in things that wind up rather humorous. For example, a couple of months ago, while wandering in the desert, Shad and K came upon a group of merchants that were a little overdressed for the road. Shad got himself invited to share their fire and some drink. This drink is a nasty one made out of fermented "dream berries". Dream berries are a little necrotic. They feed off of living creatures whom they plug their roots into. So, they have a bit of an evil and hypnotic effect upon many. Well, too much dream berry mead leads to bad things. These merchants were Chaos cultists.


Now, let me explain a bit about Chaos versus Evil in this game. Evil is that tyrannical impulse that wants to dominate the world and deny freedom to those that oppose it. It wants to impose a rule of law that falls within a nature of oppression. It is not nice and it is self-serving. Chaos, on the other hand, wants to not only upset the natural balance, but destroy the scales. It seeks to undo creation by creating instability. By "instability" I mean mutation, disease, war, famine, and death. They do so by changing what is into what will serve them best. Those afflicted by the magics of Chaos find they have little choice: die or join the cause. Usually, once Chaos has infected someone or something, it's will, soul, and mind become so mutated and twisted it is more than happy to join the cause.


So, naturally, these cultists decided to put the mark of their chosen Chaos god on Shad's neck. They got into town that afternoon. Blue made friends with a local rune master. So, through payment and coercion, Blue convinced the dwarf to use his magical skills to remove the tattoo. How does a rune-master remove a tattoo? Well, you have to burn it out of the skin. What is the best way to do that? With a brand made into the symbol of the primary dwarven god. Did I mention that Shad is an elf? Elves and Dwarves do no exactly get along. Mostly they tolerate each other. So, Shad won;t be going home to his people anytime soon.


Remember how I said that I made it up to Michael (as K) with his quests? Well, K found a teacher to help him get promoted in his order. During that period, K also found a mystery about something that affects his deity. So, he was up all night meditating and pondering. 


Leah was in her shell a bit during the last few games. So, to break her out of it, I gave her a chance to change Malina from an assassin to something that plays with animals. Of course, changing careers is not such an easy feat. To learn the new skills, she was given a three-part quest. Well, that had her, also, up all night for a second night in a row. Interestingly enough, part of her quest matches what K is investigating.


So, our story begins an hour or two prior to sunrise. The party had been up the entire previous night traveling towards this town. This first night in town mostly likely resulted in everybody getting some much needed sleep and recovery.


Let's see how the day turned out --



First of all, our favorite female elven assassin didn't go to bed that night after you got into town. An hour prior to sunrise, she started busting into rooms looking for everybody. Red (Elfrida) wasn't in her room. She had slept there, obviously. There was no sign of struggle.


Kholai wasn't in his room. The bed was not slept in at all. None of his trappings were there either.


Wondering if everybody was out and about and as sleep deprived as she was, she next went to Shad's room. The knock on the door garnered a cranky and moaning response. Shad was slightly hungover and still trying to recover from his ordeal with the Chaos cultists and a little experience with Dwarven tattoo removal techniques.


She was able to motivate Shad into joining her on whatever urgent business she had. The last stop was Blue's room. The knock on Blue's door did not receive so gentle and answer. The response was a thud and
the barest edge of a battle axe protruding through a fresh perforation in the mahogany. Evidently Blue was not getting out of bed until after having a draft of morning motivation.


Shad was still not in the best condition to go investigate anything. Milana needed something to keep going as well. At the hotel, the keep stated that breakfast was not all that appetizing because they did not even attempt to compete with the Brisbale Brew Club down near the farmers' market.


Down the hill our two intrepid adventurers trod on their quest for tasty morning morsels and motivating mixtures. (phew, that's enough alliteration practice for the month). To summarize, they walked in. Elfrida was seated talking to a contact. He waved  them off. The restaurant was just opening and Mr. Bob was just starting to poke his head from the horizon. So, they ordered food and some of the "special morning brew". After a lot of steam billowing out from a strange contraption, very hot water was forced through a black, sand-like powder made of burnt beans and herbs. Through a small tube, the excess steam bubbled through some cream until it formed a froth. You get the idea... Bisbee breakfast club combined with that coffeehouse espresso shop in the main commerce building. Great food, good coffee, and K joining up with them.


K and Malina exchanged stories. They investigated the manor on the hill and found some evidence that pieced a story of a gory attack by some large animal against some rather sentient dog-like creatures called kokopelli.  (Think VERY smart and rather social coyotes). K's portion of the mystery brought the trio to the main temple. K explained certain things he discovered there. Realizing that little more investigation could be done until nightfall, they headed back to the main merchant area of town.


Here our normally neutral adventurers, plus K, discovered a band of Illitanians extorting a local shop owner. So, they had to step in. Wait? Where are those pesky Sworn dudes when you need them? They are all over the place. See, Brisbale is their retreat and one of their academic centers. They come here on sabbatical or vacation. So our wonderful two jedi were off goofing around and not getting involved. They were too busy socializing with the others of their order. I guess monks must party once in a while, too.


So our trio bloodied some noses (and thensome). From here they headed towards the Illitanian gang's camp just outside of town. Let's set the stage here. These Illitanian gangsters are best described as a Requiem brujah horde with horses instead of motorcycles. A band of five is a nuisance. A gang of 50 is an
infestation. (Crap, I'm giving Michael ideas). So, how do you approach a biker gang made up of 50 1/2 Sicilian 1/2 Mexican roughnecks? My suggestion is a tactical nuke. It is either that or treat it like a killer bee hive:  once you see it in the distance, go another direction.


Well, they tried to reason with them and get information from them. Like good little gangsters, they took Malina as collateral to make sure they'd get paid top dollar for their bargain basement information. Nobody said they were smart. 


After trading some geld for information, the leader told Shad and K they could retrieve Milana. So, what was Malina's response to having been tied up? Five dead gangsters in a single combat round. That girl was pissed!


So, Malina and Shad marched into the main meeting hall to confront the leader about his lack of hospitality. Remember my suggestion? Shad pulled a gun. Malina moved to strike. K, well, he didn't drop a tactical nuke. he dropped a flash-bang. In the process, arrows flew. But they weren't aimed, just loosed. People still got hurt.

Shad shot his pistol at the leader, and hit him in the shoulder. Did I mention that Shad did this while diving across the table? Well, he didn't make it and ended up laying face down on the table. That was advantageous as K shot a lightning bolt at the leader. As that happened, though, the leader pulled the trigger on the blunderbuss he had under the table. The load of shot went right into Shad's abdomen. Shad and the leader both got singed a little by the lightning bolt. This knocked Shad unconscious.


K stepped sideways like a forsaken. In WFRP speak, he went into an astral form. Malina bolted for the door, but took several arrows to the back as she exited. She was able to get on a horse and escape just
as she fell into unconsciousness. 


Shad woke a little disorientated with a splitting headache and a foul taste in his mouth. He felt the shock beginning to take back over as some of the gang members picked up his body and tossed it into the
street. Feeling that death was certain, he was amazed to wake back at the inn to see K doing a healing spell on Malina.


Shad is having a bad week.


Lunch anyone? Yes, all that happened by noon.


That leaves us where we currently sit. So, Blue and Elfrida, what did you guys do this morning?