tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1966379754485686742024-03-05T19:35:15.592-08:00Just GamingAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-37282252605477056992015-08-31T18:41:00.002-07:002015-08-31T18:41:56.933-07:00Two sessions done!This Saturday evening the fella's came over for our second C&C in middle earth game. No one died, we role played for more than half the evening, fun was had. I could say more but that might bore me, and I should have taken pictures. Oh well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-56UwtW44LUXbH-BhmS6V4AGd_fj5o_uNtyQr14MvO_SwEf2D4NqXDANhV1ICWzavHaGshA6Ev3nUQCwpYufEflwH1g6IVd6UShw5g3YY5IQPEG1xtfqIk6qhbyhB0osCcKJdzztt_Azi/s1600/mapa_dol_amroth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-56UwtW44LUXbH-BhmS6V4AGd_fj5o_uNtyQr14MvO_SwEf2D4NqXDANhV1ICWzavHaGshA6Ev3nUQCwpYufEflwH1g6IVd6UShw5g3YY5IQPEG1xtfqIk6qhbyhB0osCcKJdzztt_Azi/s400/mapa_dol_amroth.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We started off in the southern Gondor city of Dol Amroth.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CFcpvjvv2XbG2lYvOb9cdouOBJ-S9q30DJNh4NrjpulpSK0_pngD9CBaTUQ01PdBtMGgK3M8ceYpkQHA7Xkt662rg6_IaP_gD9fC6rrQr3vwmZ9KL7yaUry2YEkmTFXL3WLiQpQ1g8DN/s1600/225px-Merp_assassins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CFcpvjvv2XbG2lYvOb9cdouOBJ-S9q30DJNh4NrjpulpSK0_pngD9CBaTUQ01PdBtMGgK3M8ceYpkQHA7Xkt662rg6_IaP_gD9fC6rrQr3vwmZ9KL7yaUry2YEkmTFXL3WLiQpQ1g8DN/s1600/225px-Merp_assassins.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I wove the first adventure from this book in to a tale of personal redemption and political intrigue.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was fun.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-10192487244799412552015-08-24T15:01:00.000-07:002015-08-24T15:01:42.102-07:00All 31 RPG a Day questions rapid fire style.<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
I'm back to running a game and the kids are taking long enough naps for me to carve out extra time to write in this neglected trash heap. hopefully more to come.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
RPG-a-day thing. </div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
1. Forthcoming game you're most looking forward to:</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
the Dracula Dossier, because almost everything I have from Ken Hite has been awesome.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">2. Kickstarter game you're most pleased you backed:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
I've stopped backing Kickstarting games, okay I did back the Aihrde setting from the Trolls, but no games.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">3. Favorite new game of the last 12 months:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">I'd like to say D&D 5 but I'm not digging it. I did buy </span><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fantastic-Heroes-Witchery-Dominique-Crouzet/dp/1499155484/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1440453188&sr=1-1&keywords=Fantastic+Heroes+%26+Witchery" target="_blank">Fantastic Heroes & Witchery</a> recently which I'm digging!</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">4. Most surprising game:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">Ever, I think <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dresden-Files-Roleplaying-Game-Story-ebook/dp/B00CGDYPG4/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1440453252&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Dresden+Files+rpg" target="_blank">The Dresden Files</a>, fate blew me away, I love it.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">5. Most recent RPG purchase:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pathfinder-Cards-Society-Face-Deck/dp/1601257147/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1440453287&sr=1-1&keywords=pathfinder+face+cards" target="_blank">Pathfinder Face cards</a>, I love showing players what GMC's look like, and I was tired of printing photo's </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">ripped of the net.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">6. Most recent RPG played:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Castles and Crusades, I still love that game but I'm looking at Fantastic Heroes & Witchery.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">7. Favorite free RPG:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><a href="http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/692/CJ-Carrellas-WitchCraft?it=1" target="_blank">CJ Carella's Witchcraft</a>, what an evocative setting, it's just great.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">8. Favorite appearance of RPGs in the media:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Chevy Chase winning <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFFqCIeuGE8" target="_blank">Dungeons & Dragons</a>.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">9. Favorite media you wish was an RPG:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Leviathan-Wakes-James-S-Corey/dp/0316129089/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1440451290&sr=1-1&keywords=the+expanse" target="_blank">The Expanse </a> by James S.A. Corey, I love me some semi-hard </span></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">syfy.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">10. Favorite RPG publisher:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">I'm sticking with the trolls for now.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">11. Favorite RPG writer:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">See number one above.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">12. Favorite RPG illustration:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">I love the illustrations Angus McBride did for MERP.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vzmW2WkKsX4n40aUTE0JBnau3Ypp5WcDQWjDs3vaVYhQS6h_3KTN-UL3cPInCwSOjYicTSYiPGZDylThka8diW7qhk9V_XSkNQUViDQ7FK5LDUiLCFHcfNAb0am8lndN-rj4ma1qc2i8/s1600/great15m.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vzmW2WkKsX4n40aUTE0JBnau3Ypp5WcDQWjDs3vaVYhQS6h_3KTN-UL3cPInCwSOjYicTSYiPGZDylThka8diW7qhk9V_XSkNQUViDQ7FK5LDUiLCFHcfNAb0am8lndN-rj4ma1qc2i8/s400/great15m.gif" width="396" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
13. Favorite RPG Podcast:</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
I've been a big <a href="http://www.kenandrobintalkaboutstuff.com/" target="_blank">Ken and robin talk about stuff</a> fan, but have been in such of a few more good ones.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">14. Favorite RPG accessory:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">Dice.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">15. Longest campaign played:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">I've played in a AD&D2e game for the last five years. It started out twice a month for two plus years, but it's now an </span></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">annual drunken pilgrimage since the DM moved.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">16. Longest game session played:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">I can't remember, we did weekend long games in high school.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
17. Favorite fantasy RPG:</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
Castles and Crusades.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
18. Favorite SF RPG:</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
Cyberpunk, specifically the death valley free prison campaign.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
19. Favorite supers RPG:</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
Heroes Unlimited, or if you count Palladium's TMNT than defiantly TMNT after the bomb.</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
20. Favorite horror RPG:</div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">CJ Carella's Witchcraft.</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">21. Favorite RPG setting:</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">It has to be that first grey Forgotten Realms box, if only because of it's impact on my gaming.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">22. Perfect gaming environment:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">A home, no game stores please I play enough 40k in those stinky places.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">23. Perfect game for me:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">A fast paced evocative game with good friends and good beer.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">24. Favorite house rule:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Shields may be </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">splintered.</span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">25. Favorite revolutionary game mechanic:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Dying during character creation ... no really that's awesome.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">26. Favorite inspiration for your game:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">everything's free game.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">27. Favorite idea for merging two games into one:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">I want some ninja turtles in my fantasy RPG's.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">28. Favorite game you no longer play:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Twilight 2000</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">29. Favorite RPG website/blog:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">There are to many good ones to pick one, and so many bad ones sometimes it's hard to find the good ones.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">30. Favorite RPG playing celebrity:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">I don't care enough about celebrities to even notice who might be pimping their geek red this week.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">31. Favorite non-RPG thing to come out of RPGing:</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">If I hadn't found D&D way back when I don't know if I would have actually ever read anything, so my love of books and their ability to transfer me to the authors world.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-77855316290402421992011-12-12T09:00:00.000-08:002011-12-12T09:00:07.433-08:00H:tV Bowen's Journal Thursday, September 13, 1956<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>1252</o:Words>
<o:Characters>7142</o:Characters>
<o:Company>Cutts Photo</o:Company>
<o:Lines>59</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>14</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>8770</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>12.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbqFosybNH5UVAJKwJPb0TknDlr0SHDndc4P6m4_i1-l5XurpsWvIMetGMTji8IJAuz0jAOdiFoMeFNH-bcOUPhWB5ON4c8mh1PPVCSNua01TInalKhcB9BCq0U5X5ptmIi608DQa-wJJ/s1600/porsche-356-a-carrera-speedster-1958-1-1280x960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbqFosybNH5UVAJKwJPb0TknDlr0SHDndc4P6m4_i1-l5XurpsWvIMetGMTji8IJAuz0jAOdiFoMeFNH-bcOUPhWB5ON4c8mh1PPVCSNua01TInalKhcB9BCq0U5X5ptmIi608DQa-wJJ/s320/porsche-356-a-carrera-speedster-1958-1-1280x960.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Morning has broken on
another useless day. It’s cold and it’s only going to get colder. Doc got me a
roof over my head, a couple of walls, and a place to lay down, but that was all
he could manage, and really more than I deserve. But it doesn’t stop me from
shivering in the morning, and wishing I had better heating, or less
“unintended” ventilation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">But that’s this morning.
This morning, I’m a poor, graduate student.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Last night, I was a hero,
if only for five minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I spent the morning in the
stacks at the University Library (boring name for an impressive place). I still
couldn’t find any of the resources that the catalog said should be there, but
aren’t. I asked a resource clerk, who said everything had been removed and the
catalog hadn’t been updated. That’s simple insanity! The history of those books
alone makes them priceless. I immediately headed over to the special
collections to talk with the librarian there, but was halted by a cute little
German grad-student named Heidi, who thought I could get an appointment
sometime next month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I booked the appointment,
and made another with Heidi for tomorrow night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">After those three
frustrating and wasted hours, I headed over to Doc’s apartment in the English
quarter. It feels like we haven’t been at Doc’s place in . . . well, forever. I
ran into Doc on the way in, and then we immediately ran into Ragman. You’d
think we’d be able to smell him long before we ever saw him, but maybe it’s
better we didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Ragman said Heinrich, the
well-dressed-man we’ve been hunting down, was trying to kill him, and he wanted
out protection to get to the local police station. No problem! I was running
short on cash anyhow, and Ragman had plenty of the Doc’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I have to admit, in my many
years of cavorting and living the jet-set lifestyle on my father’s dime, even I
have never been able to burn through such a relevant abundance of cash as the
Ragman claims he did in less than six hours. Certainly not without easy access
to Dom Perignon and some Cuban cigars. Ragman was hesitant to part with what
little money he had left, but a quick raid of the Doc’s liquor cabinet
convinced him to give me a fistful of dollars. I won’t see much in the way of
revenue from my new “transportation” job, so I’ll have to scrape every barrel
in the meantime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">We walked the Ragman over
to the police station and there met Officer Rutger. Rutger immediately put me
on edge. He seems like the kind of guy who, given the opportunity would shoot
his best friend in the back if it was the “right thing” to do. Still, for some
reason, I have a high degree of faith and trust in Rutger. Either he’s an
excellent cop, or I’m a push-over for his do-the-right-thing attitude. I ended
up telling him just about everything I’ve written in this journal. Not much
about myself, but our on-going investigation into the murders and so forth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Rutger immediately decided
we needed to confront Heinrich, even though the evidence was flimsy and based
mostly on the information we’d provided him. To his credit, he asked Doc and I
to go along, Doc being the police consultant and all, and I being the only
thing that keeps Doc alive in these situations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">As soon as we entered the
grounds of Heinrich’s place, I knew we were on the right track. I can’t say
how, but this seemed to be the culmination of days of effort and tracking
through Berlin’s rainy, cold streets. I checked my weapons, made certain my
spare clips were in place, and Rutger gave me a cop-look of disapproval but
didn’t comment. Lucky for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">No one was answering at
Heinrich’s but we could hear something that sounded like rushing water. Not
like someone was taking a shower, but more like we were up the hill from a
river. It was a creepy sound, but not especially suspicious. It wasn’t a scream
or a cry for help, or the sounds of gunfire, so Rutger was pretty much
helpless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Fortunately, when Rutger
wasn’t looking (and after I turned the knob) the door opened all on its own
(after I shoved it with my foot). The sound of rushing water was louder, but
water isn’t illegal, even if you have a river running through your house. But
we knew someone was in the house (my future silver Porsche was parked outside).
Rutger told us that he was here to get answers, that Heinrich was suspicious
enough all on his own, and, in what I took to be a slight bend to his otherwise
rigid world-view, he was going into the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Gotta say, it was a nice
place. A bit on the German gothic for my tastes, but I’m an American and (past
tense) “nouveau riche” so what do I know? Still, dollar signs filled my eyes. I
quickly made an inventory of Heinrich’s wealth, and hoped things were about to
go down the way I thought they would.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">They did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">We made our way up to the
second floor, with the sound of water rushing louder than ever, and at the far
end of the hall we saw the man himself: Heinrich. He was dressed in crazy,
scary robes, and there was some kind of swirling vortex before him. Power
radiated from the man, and not the kind of power you feel when you meet a
president or a general or someone like that. This was the kind of power you’d
think Merlin could use to throw thunderbolts from Olympus. I don’t mind telling
you that my mouth was dry, my bladder was full, and my palms were as sweaty as
a virgin groom’s on his wedding night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">The confrontation was fast,
and deadly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Heinrich made some motions,
and ghosts, I swear to Almighty God or whatever Powers That Be, actual ghosts
came at us. Rutger fired first, and I watched in horror and dismay as exactly
what you think would happen, happened. The bullet went right through the
apparition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Well, if we couldn’t shoot
the ghosts, then we should shoot the guy who made them appear. My two guns came
into my fists, and for the first time in days, I knew exactly what I was doing
and why. Once my weapons were in my hands, I didn’t hesitate. I pulled both
triggers, once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Once was enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Two slugs hit Heinrich and
he went down, dead before he hit the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">There’s not much I can brag
about in this world, but you put a pair of pistols in my hands, and I guarantee
I’ll hit more than the broadside of a barn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Immediately, the rushing
water sound was gone. The ghosts, gone. The swirling vortex of fear, gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Rutger was in shock, but I
wasn’t. I sent the poor man downstairs to call in the event. What followed next
was a mad rush of events that culminated in my “liberation” of several highly
portable items of decent worth, and, I’m proud to report, the aforementioned
silver Porsche.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Unfortunately, when the
police arrived and took my statement, they also insisted on taking my guns. The
beast within me, that darkness and anger immediately welled up. I actually
calculated my odds on shooting four armed officers of the law. The odds were in
my favor, but escape would not have been. Berlin is a city on the brink, and
locked down tightly by not just one government, but four. And not just four
governments keeping the peace, but four armed camps ready to spring into full
killing action should the order be given. I might have been able to keep from
killing all the German police at the scene, and I might have been able to get
away temporarily. But I’ve seen enough movies to know that you shoot a cop, and
the world will fall down around you like a ton of bricks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">What additionally swayed me
was the officers promise that I would get back the weapons, and the fact that I
had “liberated” a Luger from Heinrich. I was not weaponless, and my weapons
were safe. With some help from Rutger, and a little Jean Valjean, I might be
able to get them back without the police being the wiser. I’ve made some
inquiries, and a plan is forming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Now, I gotta give the Doc
credit for some quick thinking here. He managed to take off the license plate
of a police car, and exchange it for the one on the Porsche. Granted, we’ll
have to ditch the police plate as soon as possible, but it did give us
immediate safety for the transport of the Porsche into Doc’s garage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">It is such a smooth,
beautiful, lovely machine. I drove it with the same kind of relish that a man,
forced to eat nothing but processed luncheon meat for months, would find for an
excellent, medium-rare, porterhouse steak. It was a pure treat to not be
bounced around by poor shocks or truck-tires.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I’d love to keep it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I don’t think I can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">The funding it would bring
far outweighs the perilous nature of keeping the machine. I would be better off
selling it, and purchasing something more practical . . . by which I mean
legal. Something far lower profile that would allow my commerce to flow more
easily between checkpoints.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-54118106017783988132011-12-11T14:54:00.001-08:002011-12-11T15:06:46.625-08:00Giuseppe Pre Prelude background story. Vampire: Dark Ages.<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Yesterday I posted a story for The Vampire: Dark Ages chronicle, I bowed out of last year. A few weeks ago I reached out to the storyteller to feel out if he was still running the chronicle, and if I could jump back in. He asked what Giuseppe had been up to since he left the coterie, but I figure someone might be interested where it all started. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Dearest Sister:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjhBN63iPmKF62OfsaN4FUU-tf113MNChTpKpKuu9t4r972NbHnO0Ex4qp-TT-WTniCqyS4lSdadfbpoHQofUm2KbfQIcJd7sE-mvMfdPNUTEf3B154NkVfwHAFgQzpKPYxoi1_q___DZ/s1600/Sidonius_Apollinaris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjhBN63iPmKF62OfsaN4FUU-tf113MNChTpKpKuu9t4r972NbHnO0Ex4qp-TT-WTniCqyS4lSdadfbpoHQofUm2KbfQIcJd7sE-mvMfdPNUTEf3B154NkVfwHAFgQzpKPYxoi1_q___DZ/s320/Sidonius_Apollinaris.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I was elated to hear of your election as
Prioress after all your devotion to the people of Fossacesia, and the Abby of
San Giovanni.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is such
wonderful news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who would have
thought the bastard twins of a wool merchant would rise to such great heights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My work with the Bishop in the Diocese
of Osimo continues. I had no idea five years ago when I was elected Archdeacon
all the responsibility that would befall me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it is the work of the church and I try to work for the
greater glory of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I have received an </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">invitation
from a Lord Giovanni to a dinner party at the Giovanni Manse. I have no idea
who this mysterious man is, but my Bishop has granted me leave to attend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The journey will be long so indulge me
as I write to you to escape the doldrums of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since we have not spoken since I left to continue my
theology studies at The University of Bologna I will up date my history as
briefly as I can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When I arrived in Bologna from </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Fossacesia I was immediately
assaulted by what I thought were thugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was struck with a club and abducted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They bound my eyes and took me to an underground meeting
hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that these were no
thugs but an order of young men calling themselves The Order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like myself all were young men at
university on scholarship, the order had been formed a decade after the
university itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The poor
students bound themselves together for support against the rich or noble born
bastards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most like me were also
there so study theology or medicine having been sent by their abbots and priests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than God I have no greater allies
then members of The Order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
seven years we lived, prayed and studies together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As young men do we found ourselves in a bit of mischief, and
these times are where our bonds grew tighter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our members are everywhere throughout the Papal States and
the holy Empire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">On my graduation I returned to Osimo to work in
the Abby, by the grace of God I was blessed with good fortune and was able to
do the lords work with Abbot Osmond who had sponsored me to university.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For three years I worked with Osmond, but
he was killed when a wall in the hospital collapsed after a heavy snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was elected Abbot in his place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked tirelessly and was soon
recognized by the Bishop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I my
self had no ambition for further advancement in the church, I had more responsibility
than I thought I could handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Bishop Bernardo, however, took note of the reforms I was making around the
Prior and asked me to be his Archdeacon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said he could not stand that his previous aid had coveted
the Bishops robes for himself; Bernardo had him appointed to Rome to get rid of
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was honored to serve as an
arm of God for the good of the holy church.</span><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-55314034689839754612011-12-10T21:38:00.001-08:002011-12-10T22:01:04.398-08:00Dark Ages: Vampire Character backstory<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOqe8Dxvy_Rm8Od8SzV7VQKiaHJMiCu9DNhBMEfxE8PCA7mmxf0KlxLcin2BjaL5Bdb8DQqQTn2FcNz5_XqvpoXbAzBWX_g7UEFM3x_ZRfyXyvJUcRf3gpJE6hFCEcou8hyphenhyphenWUAwAPGCpt/s1600/cain-murdering-abel-vampire-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOqe8Dxvy_Rm8Od8SzV7VQKiaHJMiCu9DNhBMEfxE8PCA7mmxf0KlxLcin2BjaL5Bdb8DQqQTn2FcNz5_XqvpoXbAzBWX_g7UEFM3x_ZRfyXyvJUcRf3gpJE6hFCEcou8hyphenhyphenWUAwAPGCpt/s1600/cain-murdering-abel-vampire-art.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caine Murdering Able</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Giuseppe</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a sinner, I have always been a sinner, but since that
terrifying night at Lord Giovanni’s dinner party I have broken God’s most
sacred commandment. My
embrace in to this dark covenant with Caine has renewed my faith, no not
renewed, but proven without a doubt God’s existence. Now with this proof I must sin daily to exist. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I left the coterie of my fellow newly dammed to search out
the meaning of this brutally evil existence after twice witnessing the
cannibalism of diablerie. First I
travelled back to my residence in Osimo to resign my post as archdeacon, and
collect my possessions. The journey was long and harrowing for a lone dammed to
undertake. As a mortal when I
rested at night, the protection my body needed was trivial. One can sleep under the stars. The dammed, however are not so lucky
with God’s light. It was on the
journey I wrote a beautiful hymn I planned to present to my beloved
sister. I wrote whenever I could
and pored myself in to the song, but in the rejected verses I found another
tune. Not written for the glory of
God, but a dark song for Caine.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It broke my heart to leave my beloved Bishop, who would have
me staked to a pole in the central plaza if he knew what I was. Before I traveled to my sisters
Abby, I fed my blood to both my lover and my assistant to aid me in my long
journey. The light should not be
so frightening. I began to snatch
a glimpse of the morning sky. The
first attempt I hid deep under a balcony on the west side of my apartment. Even as I began to smoke I willed my self
to stay to see a hint of blue in the sky.
I thought I would be blind, but my sight did return, and with it the
need for more blood. We fled the
next night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continue to sin, and have punished myself, whipping my
flesh, but this increased my need for the blood of innocence’s. So I attempted to fast, an utter
failure. I resisted for days but
the hunger grew so strong I could not contain the devil in me. I do not remember the murder, or
murders I committed when I was overcome.
I regained my mind covered in their blood. I punished myself brutally that sad night. Begging the father for
forgiveness I knew would never come, and again I went out a dawn to be consumed
by the father’s wrath. The fear
that overcame me was too intense to resist. I ran from the sun again a coward.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Fossacesia I planned to present myself to my sister as
proof of God’s existence. She
promptly rejected, and cursed me.
Again we fled, this time with a mob set on us. Elia, my assistant was gravely wounded in the violence. I knew the power in my blood so I
attempted to save him with Caine’s curse as my sire had embraced me. I failed and Elia died, my blood on his
lips. It was then I decided since
I had been unable to burn myself in Gods light I would have to find a mentor to
replace my sire.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My lover Assunta and I traveled to Bologna where with the
help of my school day allies, The Order, I had a strong coach built so we could
travel during the day. I also
hired a young man, Orfeo, as a pilot.
I fed him my blood on our way to Venice. I sought the Cainite prince there, Guilelmo Aliprando, to
present myself and to plead for a tutor<span style="color: red;">.</span> It was in Venice Lord Giovanni’s
Ghoul, Lothar, first struck. I did
not know what a powerful enemy I had made, for Lothar and his mercenaries have
been ruthless. I also didn’t
realize that Augustus Giovanni had made his home in Venice. It was entirely the wrong place to go
and the Prince expelled us from Venice in any case. Next we went to Milan to speak with Prince After I introduced myself and pleaded
my case, the Prince told me he could not help as emissaries had approached him
from Augustus Giovanni recently.
We left court heart broken and afraid. We were sent into the wild again with no aid or
benefactor. That evening however I
was approached by a graduate of my alma mater and a member of the order. Eliodoro, an ironic name for one of the
dammed, a Lasombra, spent the night with me explaining a great many things and
pointed me to France where a Toreador Salianna, Matriarch of the Courts of
Love, resides. Eliodoro would send
introductions to France ahead, and accompany us short while as he was headed to
Turin. While on this short journey
I learned as much as possible from Eliodoro.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Turin we found refuge for a few days but were attacked
again by the Ghoul, Lothar. Lothar
died in the assault, or so I thought.
At the Prince’s court, Eliodoro found a Cappadocian Rosalva, another
ironic name, who was on route to France.
After introductions we agreed to travel together in my coach. In exchange Rosalva would tutor me on
the journey. I felt a need to
better understand the enemy I had in Giovanni and this was the closest I could
come to them. She witnessed my
self-flagellation, attempts at stealing a glimpse of early blue sky on several
occasions, drank from my Assunta repeatedly, and taught me how to strengthen
myself against harm. At one point,
Assunta accidentally drank Assunta dry.
I tried to mourn her, but was unable. Perhaps this curse of Caine was stealing my humanity as it
had my soul. Rosalva was on her
way to Perpignan to study at an abbey.
Days turned into a month and soon I was as engrossed in research as
Rosalva, and we found ourselves on the way to Anatolia in search of information
on Golconda. While my faith is
even greater because of this curse, I still see it as a curse and something I
must atone for or overcome in some way.
Rumors of Golconda may be that way. I also have found myself even more interested in the remaining
fragments of Caine’s Book of Nod and sought additional pieces of that ancient
text.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We spent months on the journey arguing, debating, fighting
and learning from each other. When
we arrived I, a mere neonate, was denied entry into the sacred temples. If one could only fly to Bordeaux, the
journey back to France was heart breaking. I practiced what Eliodoro and Rosalva had taught me, killed
Lothar again, filled my time writing hymns many for our holy father, but more
often for Caine, and then killed the ghoul once more. Persistent bastard…I long for such loyalty. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Arriving in Bordeaux I found home amongst my own clan, found
a true mentor (Alphonese des Rosier, a powerful Toredor) who encouraged me to
join the <span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Knight’s Hospitaler, and found my purpose…Golconda.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a;">Working within the French
circle, I came to be well known and well respected for my Faith and revitalized
spirit. Once news reached France
that Michael had surfaces once again and that he was in the company of past
friends of mine. I was asked to
return to my friends and find out what I could discover of Michael’s purpose
and intent. Michael was never
pleased with the French Toreador claiming they were deceived by their vice and
disillusioned lacking a vision of the Dream. You had also heard that Michael had information about
Golconda which was a personal interest of mine. The Giovanni continue to be a problem, my sire continues to
be a problem. And, while I have
made my presence in France, I still do not have the support of like type
individuals. I am still seen as
sired out of necessity not desire which has kept me an outcast. I am despised by my sire which limits
my ability to gain influence and status.
My beliefs drive me, not my passion for the arts. I see them as one and the same, but
others do not. I needed a change
and therefore agreed to attend to this task.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=196637975448568674" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-73295173166722908942011-12-06T09:48:00.001-08:002011-12-06T09:52:57.478-08:00Barbarella<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUsps8cyXJq4VUHw7ecHY1oo3o_xKIjHx51fHEPDHOReAcO7QQzPSft-59hLiVYN53tZ_SsHQR358w0VtZjW8gzbGn62qxcNJGhfxY2jkVbl3go27Tt-8cnS2XFzYJAiI_uEx6sTjC1Kh/s1600/barbarella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUsps8cyXJq4VUHw7ecHY1oo3o_xKIjHx51fHEPDHOReAcO7QQzPSft-59hLiVYN53tZ_SsHQR358w0VtZjW8gzbGn62qxcNJGhfxY2jkVbl3go27Tt-8cnS2XFzYJAiI_uEx6sTjC1Kh/s1600/barbarella.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Info <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062711/" target="_blank">here</a>, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbarella_(film)" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-83462609873686881432011-12-05T09:00:00.000-08:002011-12-05T09:00:02.327-08:00H:tV Character Background: Dr Hoyle Ambercrombie<br />
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<strong style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Dr. Hoyle Ambercrombie</strong></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGDX-zwzK44GpMgP3OKDvyq0xQYO2D_8QJQv_k15PeSUvUo7KOHaodsoRcToRLqY-5Nsq8iEarC53gFpIDb3qS-R4JEZCNyhn7VXM2UmJn0btXy1-yGQSXwbcBe5bSktxrCEAxxack35s/s1600/5_Christopher_Hewett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGDX-zwzK44GpMgP3OKDvyq0xQYO2D_8QJQv_k15PeSUvUo7KOHaodsoRcToRLqY-5Nsq8iEarC53gFpIDb3qS-R4JEZCNyhn7VXM2UmJn0btXy1-yGQSXwbcBe5bSktxrCEAxxack35s/s320/5_Christopher_Hewett.jpg" width="320" /></a><strong style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></strong></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Professor of Anthropology, Ancient Mythology & Cryptozoology (unofficially)</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Author of some of the more important works in the occult world such;</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
“Were -Wolves of the Black Forrest: Real life Apex Predator or Hairy Inbred Woodsmen?”</div>
<br />
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
“Sasquatch: North American Yeti or Hairy Canadian?”</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
“Mer-Folk of the South Pacific: Aquatic Mystery of the Deep or Just Really Ugly Sharks?”</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
“Bangladesh Horror” (The story of the encounter with a were – tiger, the only book that actually sells... most people just think its a fictional novel)</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
My father, Mortimer Ambercrombie was a military man. He was a certified Flying Ace in His Majesty's Royal Flying Corps. He flew his plane in the First big war, and was a proud patriot the rest of his days. My mum, Emma Ambercrombie stayed at home, and made an occasional quid or two teaching piano from our home. She and my dad led a very quite life in their older years until the Lord called them both into his kingdom, as he is one to do.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Of course the life of my Flying Ace father is an exciting one at points you, the reader, clearly is more interested in knowing more about me. I began life on the winter evening of January 21st 1910. As a child I took to more scholarly pursuits rather that the arts or athletics as my mum and father would have liked. My natural aptitude for history, science, math, and just about every other subject they offered at the boring and dry primary schools I was sent to as a youth.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
I finished school at the age 13 and promptly entered the prestigious Oxford University. There I spent most of my time attending lecture, and in the wondrous library reading all that I could. I finished my first book ( Sasquatch: North American Yeti or Hairy Canadian?) by the time I was 17. I graduated with doctorates in Ancient History, Anthropology, and Medieval Studies all by the time I was 22, became an associate Professor of Anthropology at Cambridge University by the age of 24, and saw on my way to be a tenured professor, but then, when I was 29......All hell broke loose.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
The Second Great War broke out through Europe the same year my father passed. In</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
honor to him I decided to sign up even though I by this time I was almost 30 years old, an author, a doctor, and college professor. I was stationed in the far off land of India in the city of Kempur. There was not a lot to do there, but I just went where they sent me. Whilst there I began to teach the local children how to speak and read English, and taught them the history of their Mother Country. I made friends with many of the locals including a young Nepalese boy named Raju, but his story is to be told another time...</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
One night while doing my routine watch I heard a loud scream from a small house off in the distance. As I ran to investigate I found a man being brutally attacked by the biggest Bengal Tiger I have ever seen. I took a shot at the tiger and for the first time in my whole military career I actually hit my target. The bullet struck his stomach, and the tiger ran off into the night. Myself and four other soldiers followed the trail of blood until it ended at the body of a freshly dead young Bangladeshi man. The man apparently died from a gaping gun shot wound to his stomach..</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
The soldiers and I moved the body back into our camp where our CO quickly took the body. He was accompanied by two men in black suits, they all went into the officer's tent and that was the last time I saw, or even heard of the Bangladeshi man ever again.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Was the man a lycanthrope of legend? I am still looking for the answers to that question.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtC-5cPWemHZbwbiIglaDBkx5qjfGWVc6f-99cqjyMRhy9tFJH1Aic0o-pRj8kI6232104X3hwMa8S6N0J0VQ-pk7MiBGje4vO1uFg4Gq88M4PJtXpzco7OSV6Aq8OQ6cP7hJPmGErhgI/s1600/bobservo%257Ebelve.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjtC-5cPWemHZbwbiIglaDBkx5qjfGWVc6f-99cqjyMRhy9tFJH1Aic0o-pRj8kI6232104X3hwMa8S6N0J0VQ-pk7MiBGje4vO1uFg4Gq88M4PJtXpzco7OSV6Aq8OQ6cP7hJPmGErhgI/s1600/bobservo%257Ebelve.gif" /></a></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
I found this looking for pictures of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0381973/" target="_blank">Christopher Hewett</a> the dude who played Mr. Belvedere, and it's funny.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-34263870128476829172011-12-03T08:13:00.001-08:002011-12-04T07:35:45.652-08:00Scary ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This freaks me out, but I love it.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5w2d6FJbnudnHFNIfpfVmP_DzJmKwe8KvGX41CEzL_-D6Rpw6z6CC1hVAKQVIoq901uzDCmkLuMAzENBEMp6dESFApyOdwu2rfLvP2R_awI9P9oAO8pENW4cA3tXpAq0JVsbCHHvUdZwK/s1600/vampire-child1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5w2d6FJbnudnHFNIfpfVmP_DzJmKwe8KvGX41CEzL_-D6Rpw6z6CC1hVAKQVIoq901uzDCmkLuMAzENBEMp6dESFApyOdwu2rfLvP2R_awI9P9oAO8pENW4cA3tXpAq0JVsbCHHvUdZwK/s1600/vampire-child1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been reading V:tR to punish the pc's in our Hunter game.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-46895440800451975892011-12-01T09:00:00.000-08:002011-12-01T09:00:01.143-08:00H:tV Bowen's journal Wednesday, September 12, 1956<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZGWbFgblzYklmAVYtC_bu4oZ4nw5H864pWWyQqPpXhKXGWs8I3nVkiKwxeYqr1evYyDjm5YIe8fkvVQWKBsuZurbHUl9tlYDWnd2eoQQNASln3QD9Z6Jdy3S9FFEr8J3tpmow89fSu5P/s1600/302952_2554812394901_1391694357_2893840_87443678_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZGWbFgblzYklmAVYtC_bu4oZ4nw5H864pWWyQqPpXhKXGWs8I3nVkiKwxeYqr1evYyDjm5YIe8fkvVQWKBsuZurbHUl9tlYDWnd2eoQQNASln3QD9Z6Jdy3S9FFEr8J3tpmow89fSu5P/s400/302952_2554812394901_1391694357_2893840_87443678_n.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I’m walking through this world all alone. It feels like God has taken my soul, and I’m left on my own. Yesterday, I saw a crow flying a straight, perfect line, which is exactly how my life is now: a perfect line that points from a start t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">o a definite, deliberate end. Instead of freedom, like that dark bird, it’s a shotgun blast to the chest, a family of .45 slugs in the gut, a switchblade to the temple, and I’ll end up with the skin cut from my face and my eyes scooped out for some dark ritual. I’m on the Devil’s back until I die.<br /><br />But I’m not dead.<br /><br />Not yet.<br /><br />I keep telling myself that, and as of today, things are starting to look good. Days of running around, making connections, negotiating terms, selling my soul for a crate of cigarettes and a case of mediocre Vodka, and what did it amount to? Piddling success that barely paid for itself.<br /><br />But it did pay for itself.<br /><br />I turned the faucet and instead of dust and rust, I got a couple of drips of clean water. I don’t know if these drips of cash are going to make my cup run over, but maybe enough to drink. Maybe enough to keep me from dying of thirst.<br /><br />And what’s it for? Why am I doing all this?<br /><br />Damned if I know.<br /><br />There’s some scary stuff out there, and it seems to just get scarier.<br /><br />Like those bums we managed to fight off. There was some kind of bad voodoo going on there. There was an immediate change in the guy we took to Pip’s, and suddenly he was apologetic, remembering everything that he’d done, but unable to reason out why he’d done it. The guy was just a run-of-the-mill bum, more interested in scoring another drink than trying to kill people. He ended up being reasonably helpful, pointing us at another guy known as the Ragman. Guess what that guy looks like?<br /><br />Both the Doc and Pips were pretty much the worse for wear. Pips was adamant that he stay in his apartment, and that he could talk his way around the police who were certainly going to respond to the violence in the alley area, the two dead bums, and the gunshot just fired into his favorite right leg by yours truly. Malarky wanted to go with us, so we shouldered the Doc and got out of there.<br /><br />The choices you have to make in this world sometimes suck cold rocks. The Doc was in pain, and I needed to make my connection for the cigarettes. Missing that would be messing up an opportunity that was held together with coat hangers and chewing gum. I ended up having to give the Doc one of my Vicodin, which meant I was, once again, on my last tab. It drives me mad at night, when I have the shakes, thinking about how much of that stuff I gave out to “friends” and “friends of friends” like candy on Halloween. All those shared tabs now seem like a wasted lifetime supply.<br /><br />The dealings don’t really matter. Suffice to say that once I was making the deal for the cigarettes, the Vicodin I gave to the Doc really paid off. We had no currency, we had no resources, we had nothing to barter with. Then the Doc came through with the idea of selling a “safe house” night using Pip’s apartment. I’m sure the Frenchie will be angry as only a Frenchie can, and it may be that this dog will come back to bite us on our collective ass, but the currency worked, the deal was struck, and we were in business.<br /><br />Now I had some breathing room. Not much, mind you, and I never realized just how unglamorous and stressful the life of a criminal is, even as petty as me. It’s not like “The Asphalt Jungle” or “Rififi”. Nothing is meticulously planned, and I’m certainly no Sam Jaffe. I’m not even a Sterling Hayden. I sweat bullets, I sweat, my knees shake and my heart beats a rhythm so loud in my chest that I’m certain everyone hears it. And that’s WITH a hit of Vicodin. Maybe it gets easier with time.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">We picked up the case of cigarettes and then made our way to Checkpoint Delta where O’Hara was waiting for us. We’d been flagged on some kind of watch-list, and if we hadn’t made the connection with O’Hara, we’d have been done for. She di<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">dn’t ask too many questions, and we briefed her with just enough information. Everything went well, we crossed into the Russian sector of Berlin, and we had five hours.<br /><br />By this point, the Doc was starting to groan again, and he’s far too valuable, as a friend first and an asset second. The guy keeps a roof over my head, and keeps me out of some trouble. I watch his back as much as I can, and I repay him when the opportunity presents itself. I was able to track down an underground vet who managed to do some good work on the Doc and provide us with a pad for the rest of us, Malarky, O’Hara and I, to crash for a few hours. Doc looked a lot better when the sun was up and Malarky and I made our way to my Russian tobacconist, and finally closed that end of the deal.<br /><br />The four of us headed back through the American checkpoint, with O’Hara again flashing her credentials and getting us through without much concern. We’ll have to be careful moving forward, as the whole group going back and forth with her will quickly make us all targets. I might have to start thinking about a legitimate business cover. Or maybe I can hire someone to move the cigarettes and the Vodka.<br /><br />Maybe it never gets easier.<br /><br />After that, Malarky wanted to go check out the well-dressed man’s place: Something Heinrichs. I should really start carrying a pad and pencil for the other side of these investigations. It’s one thing to write down my Vicodin, cigarette or Vodka connection. Entirely something else to have names and dates and information for what could easily be played off as research for another of Doc’s books.<br /><br />Heinrichs is old money. Very old money. There wasn’t too much to be gleaned from watching his estate, and no way to fast-talk our way into the place. Doc and O’Hara figured out there was a country club that Heinrichs was likely to be a member, and the Doc’s real world persona got them in the door. Those two were smooth as a hot knife through warm butter. Schmoozed and pressed hands with some of Berlin’s high society crowd which let us in on the Society of Philosophers. Heinrichs is their leader, and while most of the members consider it an elite social club for elites, apparently Heinrichs considers it something more. He’s directly connected with the murders. I can see the blood on his rich hands right now.<br /><br />But for what reason?<br /><br />Our next lead was to try to track down Ragman. This turned out to be easier than I had ever thought. We tracked him to a specific area, and then the Frenchie and Malarky wandered off to try to find him. I stayed with O’Hara and the Doc in O’Hara’s jeep, smoking and admiring certain scenery. About twenty minutes later they brought him back. He smelled like a frat house toilet after a series of weekend benders and no maid service. The Doc asked him a bunch of questions and then got more excited than I’ve seen the old boy get in, well, probably ever. He started pulling out wads of cash I didn’t even know he had, and giving them to this dirty, smelly, poorly dressed, raggedy Ragman. There was some discussion of “shape-shifting”, you know like from that Lon Chaney flick, “The Wolfman”. Only instead of being a wolf, Ragman turns into a dog. And instead of being bit by another “shape-shifting” dog, Ragman uses magic to complete his transformation.<br /><br />I swear to you, I’m not making any of this up. The Doc was practically bouncing on his feet and wiping his mouth. But goddamn him, he wanted proof. He wanted to see this charlatan do exactly as he claimed. He wanted to see the goddamn magic right before his goddamn eyes. Of course, Ragman wouldn’t do it out in the open. Whatever his trick, he wasn’t going to reveal it for everyone to see. The Doc waved me over with him, and had me cover Ragman with my guns, and I did, right up until this smelly, dirty, nasty bum did exactly what he said he would do.<br /><br />And it was no trick.<br /><br />I swear.<br /><br />It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. I was there, with my guns aimed at his scrawny, dirty ass, and then watched him literally transform, and not with the ease and swiftness of Lon Chaney, but in a visceral, wet, grotesque manner of bone, sinew and muscle reshaping themselves from a human into a canine. I didn’t know whether to be scared or sick or both. I also couldn’t say if I would have been able to shoot him if he’d gone after Doc. Or maybe I’m lucky I didn’t accidentally shoot him right then. I’d never, ever seen anything like this.<br /><br />I can’t say I was unhappy when he changed back, and he and Doc discussed some more about shape-shifting (which I won’t put in quotes again) and magic and the murders we’d been investigating. My hands shook when I tried to holster my guns, and I knew it wasn’t from lack of Vicodin, but I popped another one anyhow. I don’t actually remember when I’d met with Der Falcon, my current source, but I had a day or two worth if I was careful.<br /><br />This wasn’t a time to be careful with the drugs.<br /><br />Ragman agreed to look over the most recent murder scene, the one we’d been at just the previous morning. The ride was a complete blur, and I’m glad we didn’t run into any trouble anywhere. I was completely useless, still trying to resolve what I knew of the world with what I’d just seen. If magic worked then what else was real? Are werewolves roaming around with gypsies? Are mummies cursing Egypt? Are there vampires dining in Romania?<br /><br />What about all those Lovecraft stories I’d read as a kid? What about Asquith’s ghosts? What about the “entities” of Blackwood? Were those just stories, or did they know something? Did they see it for themselves?<br /><br />Jesus Christ it’s enough to make me want to get religion in a big way.<br /><br />Either I pulled myself together or the Vicodin kicked in. In either case, I found the super at the apartment complex, and because O’Hara was with us as an MP, he had no problems letting us back onto the murder scene. And goddamn if Ragman didn’t immediately do his dog-changing trick again. I wasn’t ready for it, and nobody saw me jump and move back, but I did. I don’t know how they can all be so calm about this supernatural shit.<br /><br />When Ragman turned human again (seriously, I just wrote that) he told us that there was some bad magic being used here. He didn’t know what, but it wasn’t what he did. I don’t mind telling you that Ragman is a little nuts (and we’re even nuttier than a fruitcake for being around him). But the pieces are starting to come together and it all points to something altogether . . . evil.<br /><br />Not like the two-dimensional Ming the Merciless, evil for the sake of the plot. Evil for the sake of giving Buck Rogers someone to fight. No, this is evil for . . . power, I guess. The sacrifice of innocent people for its attainment.<br /><br />Their deaths for power over others.<br /><br />Snuffing out candles to make the world darker. To make the world a place for dark things.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-10732439765547921402011-11-28T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-28T09:00:06.650-08:00H:tV Bowen's journal 10/11/56<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB833Toy-u9-FfSnMUFgiGj88lKNmw2N2M5dx88ODiak4zTvNq_7YqJMiaZjWg1BmMESSN9Hu7gjo4vSWrHqH_8YQtcOqn23Ng0X3Cx9W5f6GZpUIwAvOe0NLLIXKMO6I5kbXQDlJUxKnH/s1600/303096_2506466186276_1391694357_2855232_839882081_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB833Toy-u9-FfSnMUFgiGj88lKNmw2N2M5dx88ODiak4zTvNq_7YqJMiaZjWg1BmMESSN9Hu7gjo4vSWrHqH_8YQtcOqn23Ng0X3Cx9W5f6GZpUIwAvOe0NLLIXKMO6I5kbXQDlJUxKnH/s320/303096_2506466186276_1391694357_2855232_839882081_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Angels and ministers of grace defend us! I’ve been in my first fire fight. I should probably knock on wood or throw some salt on a mirror or something, but I did pretty well. At first I choked, and I was even surprised that my gun was in my hand. I guess all that practice with Torsten really did take. Of all the people I’ve been tutored or instructed by, the old Swede was the best, and I miss him greatly.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">But I’m getting ahead of myself.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I’ve discovered two things. One: that there are dark things in this dark world. Two: I am one of those dark things.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">The Russian is missing. Gone. Poof. Like a puff of smoke. When the Doc pushed Andray’s captain on details, we got nothing but a bum rush out the front door, hats and coats be-damned. Maybe we’ll find him in a couple of days at some German whore house, although I get the impression he isn’t the type. I have a feeling something more sinister has happened. Whether it’s linked to the eyeless, skinless bum, I have no idea. Worse, we’ve lost our safe passage into the Russian quarter, which means that my dream of running cigarettes and whiskey in, and vodka out will require heavy revision.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Without any concrete leads, either on the Russian, the eyeless bum, or safe passage, the Doc decided it was time to get some more information on the only thing we had: the Sanskrit message. There’s an expert at the Museum fur Naturkunde, so we made our way in that direction. That actually proved to be a good move all around, as I ran into a guard just getting off the night shift, Whats-his-name Malarkey. It might be Jim, or Sean or something. I don’t recall, and I’m never good with names. Malarkey was pretty memorable as an ironic name for such a serious guy. I got the immediate sense that he knew something, and he seemed like he knew how to handle himself. Two things that are definitely good for what we’re doing. I must have convinced him or something because he gave me his address before he headed off, and that may have made the difference between writing this journal and having someone else write my obituary.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I started shaking pretty badly after that, Mr. Jones was visiting with a fury, and it was well past time for me to figure out a backup plan. Doc wanted a root beer, and Pips is always up for a drink, and so am I if Pips is paying. I’d heard of a place where I might be able to make a connection, and luck was with me. Der Falcon was the guy’s nom de guerre, and he was charging an outrageous amount, but this is Berlin, and everything is outrageous, not just the French accents. I made a potential deal for a larger purchase which should keep me going for three months, and maybe I can track back to Der Falcon’s supplier. That could beneficial, dangerous, or both.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Der Falcon also provided me with a potential safe conduct contact, an MP named O’Hara at Checkpoint Delta. Turns out O’Hara is a tough-as-nails woman, and I certainly wouldn’t want to cross her. She was on duty, so we arranged to meet at the Eagle and Talon after her shift.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">This is when my poor memory kicked out, and I told the others about a murder suicide that I’d read about in the American quarter. Some soldier had killed his wife and then himself. I’m not certain why it grabbed my attention at the time, but with nothing better to do, we headed in that direction.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Thank whatever benevolent gods there are for the Doc. It’s just not in his nature to adhere to most societal norms, and sometimes that’s a detriment, but when it comes to barging into a crime scene, almost no one stops him. He looks like he knows what he’s doing, and he looks like he belongs, and plain clothes usually says “higher rank.” I couldn’t pull it off, at least not yet, but so far it’s gotten us further than almost anything else. This clearly wasn’t a murder-suicide. Doc did his Sherlock Holmes thing, and I questioned the officer still at the scene while Pips kept watch. We got lots of information, but the best part was Pips. Some groundskeeper had caught his attention, and he’d tried to talk to him. The guy clearly knew something, but wasn’t giving it up easy. When Doc and I came down, Pip pointed him out to me, and then we did a little play acting where I pretended to hit Pips and Pips took it like a champ, selling it all the way.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">That’s how we learned about the Well Dressed Man. He was there about the time the murder-suicide went down, definitely out of place, especially in his new silver Porsche.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Another lead. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">And a potential car for me. I have a feeling this isn’t the kind of “discussion” that is going to take place reasonably. The guy may have killed Heinrich the bum, as well as this American soldier and his wife. He’s dangerous and isn’t likely to just turn himself over and answer all our questions while sipping tea. That means violence, and that also means, if we survive, a “free” car, perhaps some other resources.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">By this point, it was time to head over to the Eagle and Talon, and O’Hara was waiting for us. She seems like a good sort (good by my definition), and capable. We made a quick deal, shook, and my dream of financing us with some initial crates of cigarettes and bottles of booze is back on the table. She also might be able to get me Vicodin for far less than Der Falcon, but that remains to be seen. If it’s real enough, we might even forego the cigs and whatnot and go straight for the higher priced grease.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I’m not exactly sure when, but at some point Pip made a squeal about getting his hands on a gun. Not wanting another repeat of bailing Pip out of jail for his gunplay, I loaned him one of mine sans clip and bullets. He kept on about needing a gun, after the German police took his. Apparently, they frown on shooting people, in broad daylight, in front of dozens of witnesses, even if those people are homeless bums. So yeah, I loaned him one of mine, but no bullets, no clip, and no stops off at the store to get some. That was two mistakes all wrapped into one. No, it was three mistakes, but I’ll get to that in a minute.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">My god, this was the day that just wouldn’t end.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">By mid-afternoon, we were at the Kraftfahrt-Bundesamt (German DMV), and Doc managed to talk his way into their records. Mein Got!, but they have a lot of records, and if it wasn’t for my years of trying to do nothing, with reading being only slightly more effort than nothing, it might have taken a leap year to get through all of them. But the Doc and I set to it with a vengeance, and we knocked one right out of the park, finding the Well Dressed Man, and also finding out that the same bums who rolled our dear Pips had also spoken with Porsche driver.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">That meant Pips was likely to see his friends in the French Quarter again. But knowing what we knew, I strongly suggested we go see if Malarkey was up for this. I don’t think it’s possible to have too much muscle. It wasn’t easy to convince him, even though he’d caught glimpses, but the money is a motive with a universal adapter. God how I miss money! I think the majority of these operations would be about a thousand times easier if I had even a tenth of my father’s fortune.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">With Malarkey now in tow, the Doc, Pips and I headed into the French Quarter. It wasn’t hard to find the bums, they were in roughly the same place, and doing the same thing. Malarkey and I approached cautiously, with Doc under strict instructions. Things went decently, until I pushed too hard, and then they broke. We were in a fight for our lives, and these bums seemed to have supernatural strength and absolutely no fear whatsoever. I mean Malarkey and I both pulled guns, and they didn’t even miss a beat.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I did. I didn’t exactly choke, but I made the mistake of thinking they could be stopped by the threat of violence. But Torsten always told me that if I pulled my guns I should shoot, not talk. Stupid, stupid, stupid.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">So here was my first mistake, I gave up one of my guns before a potential fight. I’m not very good at a great many things, life in general being at the top of the list. But one of the things I am good at is shooting. Being trained by a World Champion helped put a razor edge on that ability. It’s no brag to say that out of everyone in that fight, two guns in my hands would have ended things a great deal sooner. My second mistake, after giving up one of my guns was giving an unloaded weapon to Pips. He knows how to shoot, and giving him an expensive paperweight was a real mistake. I had reasons, but I knew that we might see violence, and I should have rectified the loaned gun one way or the other.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">We won, but we I’m pretty certain we all bled too. The Doc was really banged up, so I grabbed him. Malarkey was solid enough, and he grabbed one of the unconscious bums. As the sirens started getting closer, we got the hell outta of Dodge, and made it to Pips place for some quick medical action.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">This is where I made my third mistake. With everyone safe and sound, and the immediate emergency over, I realized I was better capable of defending myself, Doc and the rest if I had both of my guns. Maybe we would see more action, or maybe we wouldn’t, but I wanted my gun back. Pips refused, and then things got heated.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">So much has been taken from me. My mother, my father, my home, my money, my life. Pretty much everything that I was or thought that I was. Everything I had, or thought I had. It’s gone. It’s all gone. I’m a collection of bad habits held together by an addiction and semi-disgraced professor. Of all the things I have, that connect me to my past, and that haven’t been taken away, these guns were not going to be among them. They were gifts from the man who taught me to use them, the man who saw something in me that was worthwhile. I wasted most of that, but not all of it, and if his gift and his knowledge can make the world a little better, a little brighter . . .</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I tried to talk to Pips, but he wasn’t having it. I don’t know where his head was, but my words had no effect at all. Malarkey must have understood. Just as things got heated, he walked over and clocked Pips a good one. If I had gotten the gun from him then, it would have been at an end, but the Resistance fighter was tough. He’s tougher than me, that’s for certain. We traded a couple punches, and I knew immediately it wouldn’t end well for me if it went on that way. I don’t recall the gun coming into my hand, but I recall exactly that I was ready to use it. I wasn’t beyond reason, I wasn’t going to kill Pips, but he wasn’t going to keep the gun a minute more. He made the decision for me when he pulled that wicked knife of his. I shot him. Shot him in the leg. He went down like a sack of flour. He was still conscious when I took my gun back from him, and I don’t regret it for a moment.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I feel bad it came to that. It’s really bad that we’ll be down a man at full strength for a week or three. But no one is going to take these guns from me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">No one.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Not while I’m alive.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-90639183563974540772011-11-25T09:30:00.000-08:002011-11-25T09:30:02.578-08:00H:tV Bowen's first journal entry 10/10/56<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>692</o:Words>
<o:Characters>3946</o:Characters>
<o:Company>Cutts Photo</o:Company>
<o:Lines>32</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>7</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>4845</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>12.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDyqNZa9eGyyajrAF_P2jMC8ANjpb8tIAlcgZdvCDPUog83cTEB6gu9lRFkAfyW2is96lxUFL9PFWOhXKl2XHN5q1y782_TqQbhaQrjvUw6Dho8qy7OhJqmcf4rbbmIJyAl9tVEp3gdzO8/s1600/astaire-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDyqNZa9eGyyajrAF_P2jMC8ANjpb8tIAlcgZdvCDPUog83cTEB6gu9lRFkAfyW2is96lxUFL9PFWOhXKl2XHN5q1y782_TqQbhaQrjvUw6Dho8qy7OhJqmcf4rbbmIJyAl9tVEp3gdzO8/s400/astaire-1.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"> My own allies are something
of a mess as well. Consider who is writing this journal and you’ll understand
just how thick the pudding is. I’ve already mentioned the Doc, and yeah, he’s
great. Really swell. Picked me up, dusted me off, and saved me from some
flop-house knife fight. I can stay in the Free University, continue my research
and so forth so long as I help him out. Usually, not a problem, but the old boy
seems to have a few lights off in his attic. When it comes to the . . . occult,
for lack of a better word, he’s sword-sharp. But society in general, not so
much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
really like to French guy, Pips. He seems to live up to the stereotype of
freedom loving Resistance fighter, both the good and the bad. There’s a kind of
dark romance to him of cigarettes and wine and beautiful women loved, lost but
never forgotten. The other problem is that, like any Resistance member, he’s
inquisitive, but not forthcoming. He asks A LOT of questions, but doesn’t give
anything back. Nothing. He’s always asking us to go have a smoke with him,
which seems to be French for “give you the third degree.” I don’t mind smoking
his cigs, but it does get annoying. You’d think the Russian, as a detective,
would ask all the questions, and the Frenchman would tell all the stories! He
has little fear, but sometimes I wonder if the war didn’t rattle his noggin’
like the Doc’s?! This weekend, without telling anyone, he went over to the
French Sector, apparently to question some street bums, and ended up getting
bum-rolled himself! He’s lucky they didn’t kill him, and even more lucky that
he didn’t do anything that would lead the police to start looking at our little
group!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Our
group. That’s a gas and a tickle. The Doc pulled us together, but I wonder half
the time if anyone even thinks of us AS a group except him. I don’t. I remember
him telling us all that we have a primary goal and a primary means. The goal is
to investigate the strange, the weird, the occult, but to do that we have to
stay focused on the MEANS, making connections and running “goods” and
“services” across the various sectors. Whiskey to the Russians, Vodka to the
Americans, cigarettes to everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
Russian is the worst in this regard. Adrev, or Andray, or something. You can
barely understand him half the time with his accent from “Muddah Russia”. I
really, really like having him at my back, or my front. Wherever the bullets
and the blood are, I want him standing between me and it. But he’s dismissive
of everyone else in the group if they don’t help his immediate concerns. If you
weren’t in the war, or in the war the way he was, then you have even less
worth. Yeah, he’s big, and tough, and capable, but for all that he’s far too
single-minded. He can’t seem to remember that there is a lot going on, and we
should really be working together, or at least not whipping out our dicks at
every intersection to see how they measure up. Does he really think we can run
this operation on a detective’s salary? A professor’s salary? The pocket change
we find in couch cushions?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Last
week, he got called in on a “strange” murder. Some bum skinned in an alley.
Lost his eyes too. Gruesome business. Grisly. Disturbing. But the RUSSIAN. He’s
there to investigate. ORDERED to investigate, but he can’t get anyone past the
other Russian police except the Doc, leaving the rest of us to cool our heels.
It worked out, because I made a contact with a Russian tobacconist willing to
pay, and pay pretty, along with some good Vodka, for some American cigs. Then
the big Russian comes stomping in like an idiot and nearly blows the deal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We
need the money. NEED it. Not just one shot of funding, but a regular income,
more than we could get legally. This could be the start we need, and that big
bastard is all, “Vot eez das? Get in cah, kid.” I don’t tell him how to do
police work. Does he even think before he cracks that square jaw?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
guess we’ll see how things go from here. Right now, I have other concerns. I
have to deliver on the cigs which means finding an American to either buy or
steal from. If I can buy at a bulk discounter, maybe I can make a deal with the
Vodka, but that would mean something on credit. I’m too new to all this, and
our “petty cash” seems more like “petty change”. I have to keep away from all
the eyes. I know they’re there, and they aren’t some drug-induced paranoia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-pagination: none; tab-stops: 11.0pt .5in; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.5in;">
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #262626; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
hope that everything comes together, instead of crashing down on our heads.
There are eyes watching us, and I’m not talking about the occupation forces.
Something sinister is going on in Berlin. Something bigger than just the
powder-keg politics of this place. If either of these go up, we might get caught
in the explosion, and then everyone is going home. In a body bag.</span><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-74396187953683590362011-11-24T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-24T09:00:00.442-08:00H:tV Andrei Baev's journal September 10th, 1956<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLU5M4rBMveoeilZQUzy-5BeXZmtLH1dEEP2iP5L5ftXFfVeCz8LJeso7otruGSMP65RXJPTgOetU0a1lJKeVNRrSPn0pAxMFeM93S-maykjc_vC2UoIlGioQ3baBmZOeZ5Yj7EFPpEdk/s1600/stasi-fur-hat-fur-coat-sunglasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLU5M4rBMveoeilZQUzy-5BeXZmtLH1dEEP2iP5L5ftXFfVeCz8LJeso7otruGSMP65RXJPTgOetU0a1lJKeVNRrSPn0pAxMFeM93S-maykjc_vC2UoIlGioQ3baBmZOeZ5Yj7EFPpEdk/s400/stasi-fur-hat-fur-coat-sunglasses.jpg" width="257" /></a><br />
<div class="uiHeader" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">
<div class="clearfix uiHeaderTop" style="line-height: 14px; zoom: 1;">
<div>
<h2 class="uiHeaderTitle" style="color: #1c2a47; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 11px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px;">I've kept a journal for months now, but things have gotten interesting, more to write about other than the odd, "Find criminal" or "Caught criminal" or "Investigating Currently" notes that I just jot down. Or the odd reminder note during an investigation to contact someone. I'm gonna break it down by the hour, because mechanically it produces a more effective method. My wife, Elizabeth Noel. My son, Afanasi Baev. The Immortal Storyteller. My daughter, Arina Baev. Peaceful Storyteller. I hope you both witness a new world. A free world, where tyrrany doesn't rule the people of the Motherland. Marx wanted a country where the country supported it's people, made them work in unison to produce a powerful force. I can already see that Stalinism is creating a society that forces it's people to work like dogs and be fed the same shit that the rats gnaw on.</span></h2>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="mtl fbDocument" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-top: 20px;">
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
What I do, I do for you my loves. My job pays well, the job you don't know I have. An informant for the Russian mob on police activities for the Russian Police. A Gun-Smuggler. And now, I've been hired by a crazy old man who claims there are 'lycanthropes' whatever that means in the Black Forest.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Here was my day:</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
5:30am - Wake up, stretch out, work out.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
6:30am - Shower, Shave, Shit.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
8:00am - Walk into office, get a call from врач. The Doctor. He said he wanted to talk about things, needed some eyes to spare his the, and I quote, "Useless boring shit that you do everyday." Such a polite man, I see. We set up a meeting for 1:00pm.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
10:30am - I get a call from Boris. He wants information regarding police activity on Кровь Сербии, or the Blood of Serbia. They were a western expansion from the head core of the Russian Mafia. And tended to leave messes for me to clean up. I informed him that he should probably stay quiet in Pankow, the sector that I lived in. He should also dispose of the body in the most effective way possible.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
12:00pm - I eat lunch. It's something with less meat, which I'm not accustomed too. It's a Salad. My wife made it for me.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
1:00pm - I meet up with the Doctor, he called me from the station and told me to bring Jacques in, he was interested in some paper that he wrote on an incident he had while fighting the germans during the war. Patches, I call him. After all, the eye is the hardest spot to hit on the human body. And he was somehow able to get something in there deep enough to fuck it up. Idiot. During our conversation we decide to team up, I agree to be an investigator and supply arms in order to fund this crazy mans investigations. But who knows? Maybe there's something too this. Maybe we'll discover something to change the world...</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
... Maybe I'm just further enabling this man's delusions.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
1:15pm - I get a call from the office, apparently there's a body in an alleyway. Fucking mafia.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
1:30pm - It's not the mafia, it's something else, as I come into the alleway the man is up against the wall with some sort of sanskrit drawn around him. His skin has been flayed away from around his chest, rather like a sweater-vest. His eyes have been carefully removed, my guess is to not damage him. Apparently, he was found originally in the french quarter. But he's Russian. </div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Something's off.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
2:30pm - We finish investigating what amounted to a dead in, and drag the druggie... I forget his name, but he's American. He's got charm, and I bet he wracks in the ladies and whatever diseases they carry. He split up afterward and I'm dropped off at a hole-in-the-wall by the name 'Black'. Simple, straight to the point, and hiding more than it's fair share of criminals. I meet with Boris there. We discuss a firearms trade. An Kalishnakov for a box of twenty year old whiskey. I buy him a bottle after he tells me that he knows an organization by the name of 'Parliment' and head off for the French District.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
4:00pm - I show my ID and tell the border patrol my business in france occupied germany. They let me pass, but I feel eyes on the back of my head.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
5:00pm - I ask my way around town, and wind up in a rather shitty part of the French area. Figures, the germans humiliate them and they take it out on the honest public. I run into Patches coming back with a few scrapes and bruises. He lost to homeless men. Honestly, the man has no balls. I'll see to it that those homeless men talk. With, or without their tongues. After all they need hands to write. But I suppose I could take a few hands too and leave the tongues. There are four of them, so he says. Four hands, two tongues. Sounds like a fair trade.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-65359512304328477282011-11-23T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-23T09:00:01.147-08:00HtV Character backstory: John Malarkey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nB0ZjiZRqJoIYkXB34V8QX7jV6y1PKbApGCTk7YQAkD0eXBOxNRjyEIU8gSE0DW9JdpcJnsZLIolGNyt1ACrNT4qds7gwYvqqZwFZUqZFHm0uxzJPaUD-PJIcxTKe_UoU5Q-bg5Nq_O7/s1600/pomp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3nB0ZjiZRqJoIYkXB34V8QX7jV6y1PKbApGCTk7YQAkD0eXBOxNRjyEIU8gSE0DW9JdpcJnsZLIolGNyt1ACrNT4qds7gwYvqqZwFZUqZFHm0uxzJPaUD-PJIcxTKe_UoU5Q-bg5Nq_O7/s320/pomp.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">John Malarkey lied about his age in 1943 (then sixteen) to fight for the Allies in World War II.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">In his company, he was known for never enduring a serious wound (fortunate but shameful), and for having the most time spent on the front line (unfortunate but praiseworthy). During demobilization, he wound up stationed in Hamburg, Germany.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">On May 18, 1945, just three weeks after Adolph Hitler committed suicide, a group of Malarkey’s disgruntled allies attempted to break into a wealthy German residence in Hamburg to pilfer a collection of fine German whiskeys. Malarkey happened to be at the scene, and turned back the group, many of whom were already intoxicated. The house’s owner was Alfred Lidenbrock, a linguistics professor of the University of Hamburg, a teacher of German and English literature, and a scholar of the Latin language. Out of gratitude, Lidenbrock invited Malarkey inside for dinner. That was the finest meal he’d had since 1943, and he sipped fine German whiskey with it. He called that “the biggest irony to date.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">At that dinner, Malarkey also met Lidenbrock’s daughter, Grauben, and spent most mornings of the following two weeks with her on the Hamburg wharfs.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">At the end of May, Malarkey’s company was moved to Frankfurt and out of the British occupation zone. After being restationed, he kept up correspondence with both Alfred and Grauben Lidenbrock, and left post on several occasions to visit Hamburg. Lidenbrock rekindled in Malarkey an old interest of language and literature. Malarkey learned some German during this time, but learned much more about composition.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">This was the arrangement for many months. Like most others, Malarkey didn’t have enough points to return home immediately. Allied forces grew impatient and angry; Malarkey was content to stay in the company of the Lidenbrocks.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">He was discharged and returned home to Pennsylvania in November of 1945. His correspondence with the Lidenbrocks did not end. Malarkey was met with an enthusiastic family welcome and began working at a paper mill near Allentown. He then struggled to enter a university, but found family and work soaking up most of his time. The free time he did have was spent reading, learning German, and studying Latin.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">“It was all paper, back then,” he wrote at one point. “Get up at six. Get to the mill before seven. Pat and bag for eight hours, all paper. Go home, write a letter to Professor Lidenbrock, write a letter to my Grauben. Then it’d be dinner and books; pages in front of my face again. Somewhere in there I’d be helping my father with this or with that. But all the rest was paper.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">By 1948, Malarkey was feeling quite trapped. Lidenbrock began to pry into Malarkey’s mind through their letters, and found him wanting to leave home. The professor offered him a deal:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Malarkey would move to Hamburg and work for the professor in exchange for room & board. In the meantime, Lidenbrock would try to get Malarkey accepted to the University of Hamburg. Malarkey took the deal with little hesitation.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">In October of 1948, Malarkey moved back to Germany. He called that “the biggest irony to date.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">By 1952, Malarkey was fluent in German, and in spring received his degree in Linguistics. In winter of 1953, he and Grauben were married, and moved into their own residence in Hamburg. After earning his degree, Malarkey struggled to find a job in Germany’s ruined economy. He ended up working for the linguistics department of the university, and had no complaints.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">In the holiday season of 1955, Malarkey was approached by Wolfgang Crome, the newly appointed curator for arachnids & myriapods at the Museum fur Naturkunde in Berlin. Crome had heard of him through Alfred Lidenbrock, and requested that he come work as night-watch at the museum – for a very generous pay. Feeling pressure to provide for his wife and the baby in her belly, Malarkey accepted the offer. They moved together to western Berlin.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">During the meeting, Wolfgang Crome inquired about Malarkey’s military training and expertise. Malarkey was disturbed by this questioning.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">On his first night of work, Malarkey found himself equipped with an old Karabiner 98K, a German bolt-action rifle widely used in World War II. He thought this strange, nearly offensive, but was assured that it was based in tradition. Malarkey detests the rifle because of its use by so many hostile Germans during the war, and because he does not understand the bolt-action function. He was also equipped with a belt and a holster with a Walther P38, the design of which he admires.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">There he was, living in Berlin and holding a German rifle. He called that “the biggest irony to date.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Malarkey finds the Museum fur Naturkunde extremely eerie during the night. He becomes grateful for the pistol at his side, and ashamed that he would allow himself so much wild imagination. It sometimes seems as if somebody else occupies the empty halls of the museum at night, and Malarkey is relieved by the end of every shift.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-68993887227791395702011-11-22T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-22T09:00:04.389-08:00HtV Character Backstory Jaques (Pip) Dupree<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KWAAo08gHFU9OgyTHM0XObx1Yw2fVW129tiyfBYUZz-0AZ6_YviSY3BUR5wnPLmnPpsWkbKoAK_WK8NPPKkMX2oMB15qTWK32rY8hynXZYAYiEtg2_O24K4rOjHgxSeHn_Ln2H485RU9/s1600/270643445_5925176a82.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KWAAo08gHFU9OgyTHM0XObx1Yw2fVW129tiyfBYUZz-0AZ6_YviSY3BUR5wnPLmnPpsWkbKoAK_WK8NPPKkMX2oMB15qTWK32rY8hynXZYAYiEtg2_O24K4rOjHgxSeHn_Ln2H485RU9/s400/270643445_5925176a82.jpg" width="283" /></a><b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">The Monsters of War </span></b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">(summaries of chapters from Pip's published Book)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
By Jacques Dupree<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Chapter One: 1939 the Start
of WW2<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
The First Great War meant as little to me as school and the law enforcers of
Lyon. My parents didn't do anything wrong, I was just the oldest of six boys which
meant I was left to handle my self while our mom concentrated on my younger
brothers, Pop was never around always working never making a difference. I
started slipping in school after a few fights, most of them were protecting my
little brothers, eventually I said screw it and dropped out. From there it was
a never-ending drunken party and test drive on a few drugs, but nothing gave me
the high or the thrill like a fight. I started hanging with some real tough
bastards and we would get into turf fight after turf fight, we controlled at
least ten square blocks of Lyon just the four of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">When the Checks and Berlin
were invaded my parents started to get worried and when Britain and France
declared war in 1939 they had prepared to send my brothers to America to live
with our Uncle, They gave me a choice stay or go. I decided to go with them,
the only thing that kept me fighting was their safety and I couldn’t protect
them if they were in the US and I wasn't.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Chapter Two: 1940 New Life
in America<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
My Uncle owned a farm in Georgia and he put me to work the next day. My uncle
was more of a father than my Pop, he helped in my troubled teenage years and we
started to go to a Catholic church every Sunday. In the end it was my Uncle who
helped me in making the decision to join the Army, after living in the US for a
year and attaining my citizenship. I joined in February of 1940 a few months
after I turned eighteen. When they asked what job I wanted I half considered
putting down on the form "Ass Kicker" but I went with Journalist
instead. They had me shipped to boot camp two weeks later. Although America was
calming peace and did not want to join the Second Great war but from what I
could tell in my training everyone had an idea about what was going to happen
in the next few years, they just needed a reason. Now I'd like to say that it
was the occupation of America's ally, France, that sent the country into
outrage and demanded war but the country hardly even noticed, sure it was on
the news papers in one of the many pages but did anyone care, no, just another
monster of war.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Chapter Three: 1941 Pearl
Harbor, America's reason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
The events of Pearl Harbor was a sad one across the country, I could understand
the haltered as I lost my whole country, different Monster same pain. Just like
a holy miracle every one in the country felt the need to fight, people were
turning their home business into factories of war, men were enlisting so much
that I was promoted to squad leader just so we could train them all. The only
problem was there was a great chance that I wouldn’t even be on the same continent
of my home country. After brief month of training with my new squad we got our
orders to move out, our ship was in Ney York, that was good news. As soon as I
met my commander and got my squad in their bunks, we were briefed and told that
The 1st Infantry Division was headed to Beaminster of South-west England.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Chapter Four: On the path
to War<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">1942 August 1st<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I've been in the American
Army for a year now, as a French immigrant and a Journalist I'm the fist to
make Corporal this fast. I'm sitting on the S.S. Jefferson the boys call it the
S.S. shoot em' up. The 1st Infantry Division, The fighting first, the Big
Red One as some call us thanks to the badge, I had trained with these guys,
drank, fraught, had all kinds of fun, but I also know that I might end up dying
with them. The ocean was calm for us, paving the way to save Europe from the
claws of the Monster of War. Some guys were nervous, some were just kids,
probably lied to get in, not that his commanding officer would care to check
just another kid's life for the country's safety, no one cared that he might
have a family or a girlfriend, they just gave him a rifle taught him how to not
shoot off his own foot and sent him on his way to War.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">1942 October 20th<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">We'll hit port soon, the
guys have been restless, some say they can't wait to hit a pub or try and
seduce the local women, animals, but aren't we all. The commanders are to be
briefed on our destination; I pray they will send us to France.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">1942 October 21st<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">We make port and the
Commanders tell us we can stretch our legs and have a good night but be back
strictly at 2200 and ready to go in the morning at 0500. The English really
know how to make their Ale, and how to fight. That night me and the squad had a
nice night out drinking but something about me always gets me in a fight and
the fact that I was at war or in a country I didn't know anything about didn't
matter. My squad and me got in a little scuffle and some damage was done but
the worst we got was clearing duty for the whole ship. Worst yet I find out we
are headed for the French territory of North Africa. We set sail in a few
months, after training with the Brits; even I must say the term "dough
boy" has its humor. "At least we got a warm up fight" was they
only thing I could tell my squad while we cleaned and passed a bottle of whiskey
around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Chapter Five: Operation
Torch<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
The German control of Europe's main land and the Italian control of the
Mediterranean made a full-blown assault on Europe just short of impossible. So
the Brits have come up with a plan for a three-pronged attack into German
controlled territory in North Africa, if we are successful this could help
regain naval superiority and cut their supplies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";"> The
First Infantry Division, The First Armored Division, and 509th Parachute
Infantry Regiment, we were the Central Task Force led by Major General
Lloyd Fredendall and pulled into II Corps. We called ourselves the <b>Firsts</b>, on
account that including my division and the armor division the 509th were the
first parachute regiment, and we were the first to land.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">1942 November 8th, Oran<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
Its a cold morning and the sun hasn't even come up yet, the salt water chops up
in waves and hits us from time to time just to remind us how cold it is. I sat
there cold and wet smoking maybe my last cigarette, holding my M1 Carbine. Some
of the boys are excited, some don't know why they enlisted in the first place,
I kept my cool. As the commander of my squad I can't show any weakness, truth
be told, I was scared shitless, but I was ready to kill me some Nazis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
The sarge hollered at me " when we get on the beach stay on the Ranger Battalions
ass and cover their flanks while" and suddenly the SCV lurched forward and
stopped, we must of hit a sand bar. The metal landing way fell down into the
water, but I knew better I jumped off the side and my squad followed. The water
wasn't so called anymore not after being shot at from five different
directions, the rangers were on the move and I knew my battalion had a job to
do. So we headed for the beach screaming, "Fire" and the top of my
lungs, a rage of gun blasts fired back and forth. I remembered my training the
first task was done, shoot back, the next thing was to find cover. The sand bar
was pretty high enough for the water to stop at my knees, so I ordered my
squad to get behind the SCV, we sat there for an unknown amount of time, just
firing blindly at what ever was shooting at us, until the gunners nest
stopped firing in our direction. I knew that meant one thing, they must have
noticed the rangers and it was our job to make sure they could get close enough
to take out the gunners, I without saying a word rushed up to the beach my
squad following right behind, I grabbed a grenade and chuck it has far as I
could towards the nest and dived down were body of our comrades lay the squad
did the same. A second later and a load boom came just near the nest and they
began firing back at the SCV we used for cover, I got up and shouted a war cry
and opened fire on the nest, being closer than were I was I had a better
shot and a hail of lead from five riles can really do some damage. We nailed
one but the rest ducked beyond our line of sight, good thing too, we had
no cover at the time, but I knew it was only a matter of seconds before another
nest noticed us so we rushed for the hill the nest were set on. We were safe
from gunfire for now only a fraction of what was set on the beach, made it to
the wall. I made a head count of my squad, only four of us made it. I found a
few broken up squads but no sarge, I rallied what soldiers I could and headed
for the west hillside to giver better fire support to the Rangers. "All
right Firsts this is our time to show the rest of the world what we got, I've
never lost a fight and I don't expect to loose this one. We need to get to that
hill and cover the Rangers so they can clear the way for the Armor, lets go,
spread out, keep your heads low, and fire back when you can" It was a long
rush to the top of the hill, right before we darted I told my soldiers to throw
any grenades you have at the nests to gives us some momentary cover. Once we
got to the hill I could see were the rangers had moved out and around to their
flank, we kept fire on the nests and used whatever cover was around us. This
continued for hours but we finally made it through, all the nest gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
I was shocked and appalled at what we had been fighting; I met up with the
sarge of the Ranger's Battalion, our new commander, and settled into the
holding tent of the captured. They were French; we've been fighting the French
the whole time, when I thought they were Nazis. The sarge asked for me to
translate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
As it was after German occupied France a new political power called the French
State or the Vichy French, named after the Prime minister, collaborated with
the Axis powers after the take over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Lucida Grande"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">
I wanted to beat the living shit out of every one of these traders, but I had
to be contempt with only one. I "interrogated" one of the Vichy
French commanders, even when we look at ourselves we find another Monster of
War.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-91480105474864642102011-11-21T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-21T09:00:04.844-08:00HtV Character Backstories Marshall Bowen Forest III<br />
<ul class="commentList" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<li class="uiUfiComment comment_283469415004067 ufiItem ufiItem" style="background-color: #edeff4; border-bottom-color: rgb(210, 217, 231); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin-top: 1px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOq2peVt0IZyNEsXqA_xywPDxEW946b3V-244WY0MuZFyA6BJ7haI71c44ysS_66IgGrmISRXkodD3iffPEfEmLRcPUi47TsD4i6YYNlXD6bQb6HWsqWoPjtBTjj6TTUu8EVliZBD7c-O/s1600/709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOq2peVt0IZyNEsXqA_xywPDxEW946b3V-244WY0MuZFyA6BJ7haI71c44ysS_66IgGrmISRXkodD3iffPEfEmLRcPUi47TsD4i6YYNlXD6bQb6HWsqWoPjtBTjj6TTUu8EVliZBD7c-O/s1600/709.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="zoom: 1;">
<div class="commentContent UIImageBlock_Content UIImageBlock_SMALL_Content" data-ft="{"type":33}" style="display: table-cell; padding-top: 1px; vertical-align: top; width: 10000px;">
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Marshall Bowen Forest III has a particular dislike for his given name. Perhaps it was the fact that his father always introduced him using every syllable as if it added additional weight and lineage to what was essentially a “new money” family. Or perhaps it was the fact that while his father was named Marshall Forest, there was no grandfather who held either of those names. In fact, there was no grandfather on either side, as Marshall Forest II was an orphan. A bastard child, most likely of a young prostitute, too poor or too uncaring to keep the child fathered on her by a nameless sailor or travelling salesman. But most likely, it was the fact that while his father had worked for the small fortune he’s amassed, he had never actually gotten to know his son.<br /><br />The elder Forest had made shrewd investments in hand-held power tools, first supplying the American Army Corps of Engineers during the fighting, and then major public works projects in during the reconstruction, in addition to the thousands of “craftsmen” and “do-it-yourselfers” that sprang up during the post-war boom. This created a life of luxury for the Forest family, providing maids and servants for the peasant-looking Maude Forest, a row of factories accountants to increase the wealth, and the ability for both parents to relegate their only child into the care of professionals. Professionals who, at best, could claim to be fond of their charge, but no more so than the child of any given neighbor.<br /><br />As a consequence of both his father’s money and his father’s influence, the only child and heir to the not-insubstantial fortune, was able to leave distant parents, professional tutors, and his pretentious-sounding name behind when he went first to preparatory school and then to university. He made a point of never identifying himself by anything but his middle name, and so those who didn’t know him well enough, which was nearly everyone, were at a loss as to whether Bowen was his first or last name. This slight air of mystery and confusion pleased Bowen, though he could not have said why, and he was too lazy to delve deeper into the emotion.<br /><br />Laziness was practically the defining term for Bowen’s life, and permeated nearly everything he did. His father’s money had allowed him to develop his talents in any arena he desired, and to date he had little desire whatsoever. He had proficiency for the use of pistols and revolvers, and under the tutelage of Swedish champion Torsten Ullman, he had shown great promise. But that promise was never fulfilled. Ullman found the boy more than capable, but unwilling to actually compete and hone his craft to perfection.<br /><br />He was too young to even consider joining the services when Germany and Japan declared war across the world, and his father would never have risked the heir apparent to his growing empire. As such, he was too young to know better while he was in school, and when he did know better, the war was already rounding out. Bowen did not particularly regret being caught in the middle of not-quite-but-almost as some of his schoolmates. Their lust for glory on the distant battlefields held no infectious joy for him.</span></div>
</div>
</li>
<li class="uiUfiComment comment_283469501670725 ufiItem ufiItem" style="background-color: #edeff4; border-bottom-color: rgb(210, 217, 231); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; margin-top: 1px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px;"><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="zoom: 1;">
<div class="commentContent UIImageBlock_Content UIImageBlock_SMALL_Content" data-ft="{"type":33}" style="display: table-cell; padding-top: 1px; vertical-align: top; width: 10000px;">
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Shortly before his graduation with mediocre standing from preparatory school, Bowen’s mother died. There was nothing overly dramatic or traumatic about her passing, but while he stood next to his father at the gravesite, remarking on how the warmth of the sun caused a bead of sweat to run down the middle of his back every few minutes, he realized that he had no love for either parent. They were blood-related only by chance and social structure. What little emotional impact he felt for his mother’s passing was based on the realization that he, too, someday would be planted into the ground. Bowen saw that life was short, and resolved to see just how far his father’s money could take him.<br /><br />His father, ever the businessman, had practically called a meeting shortly after the conclusion of his wife’s funeral. Bowen had sad in a hard, leather-bound chair while his father laid out the groundwork for their future association. Bowen could attend the college of his choice, and would be granted living expenses, tuition, and an entertainment stipend provided he maintained a degree path and showed results. The elder Forest didn’t so much care what his son studied, only that the university be a recognized institution, and that degree be socially respectable. Something he could mention over cocktails and boardroom meetings. Quarterly reports (he actually used the term reports, rather than letters or correspondence) would be submitted, and funding would be contingent upon success. In order to further Bowen’s understanding of economics, the funds would be placed into a private bank account.<br /><br />Bowen couldn’t have been more pleased by the arrangement.<br /><br />For the first time in his life he would be free of tutors, professionals, hirelings, and headmasters. Much to his surprise, he found university life greatly to his liking. He could select classes based on his own schedule and lifestyle, he could attend lectures that caught his fancy, and he could make his own living arrangements in any fashion he liked. He quickly sought out what he thought was the easiest path to maintaining this arrangement and pursued a liberal arts degree in Medieval history.<br /><br />Unconsciously, or perhaps subconsciously, Bowen filled his social life with individuals who similar to those he had from his youth: professionals and associates paid for their time. His “group” was greatly interested in the joys of the night, and his dalliances with women were distractions that never lasted from one season to the next. He frequented jazz clubs, danced and drank through the twilight hours, and staggered through his classes with as little effort as he could manage, and still maintain his revenue stream.<br /><br />This, then, was the good life. It was also a course for disaster.<br /><br />Bowen enjoyed drinking and buying drinks. He enjoyed smoking, and the process which surrounded tobacco. He was then introduced to “harder” elements of distraction, starting with marijuana and other assorted narcotics and leading up to the hydrocodone-based Vicodin.<br /><br />Vicodin was not a harsh mistress by any means. It was a tender embrace of warmth and distance that Bowen found suited him. He could much more easily enjoy the slowing of time and of cares after a tablet or two, whether he was out at a jazz club, or self-imposed into a lecture hall. But as weeks and semesters passed, he found his tolerance for the drug increased and the inevitable decline into addiction began. He managed to receive an unremarkable degree, and eked into a graduate study program, but nipping at his heels, and catching quickly, was the greater and greater dependence on his drug of choice. If not for the sudden death of his father, Vicodin might have spelled disaster for Bowen.<br /><br />Bowen discovered that his father had died not via telegram from the company, the board or anyone else. Instead, he found out when he attempted to make a withdrawal from his bank account and found it bone dry. The bank manager, happy to oblige such an esteemed customer, made inquiries and discovered that Marshall Forest II had died of a stress-induced heart attack nearly six weeks prior.<br /><br />Uncharacteristically, no will or other legal documents regarding the various businesses, fortunes, or properties of the elder Forest were found. Instead, the impressive empire the orphan-child had built over his lifetime seemed to disintegrate over night. Telegrams and wire messages were unanswered. Phone calls dead-ended with disconnections and unknown numbers. Travel home was well out of Bowen’s financial ability, and he was effectively trapped.<br /><br />That’s when the package arrived. It was addressed to Bowen in a harsh, heavy script that at first Bowen didn’t recognize. As he unwrapped the plain brown paper, he found a note addressed to him from his mother. His mother, who had been dead for more years than he could remember, and yet there was no yellowing of the paper, or signs of years of wear. Inside, he found a first edition copy of Johannes Nider’s “Formicarius”. The note was note was signed, but not addressed, and cryptically said, “They know me. They know him. This might save you.”</span></div>
</div>
</li>
</ul>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-61449238347404721422011-11-20T13:53:00.001-08:002011-11-20T14:00:29.763-08:00Hunter the Vigil<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYESJMIaC0AkDVDjF_xO6SGH4DviXLUbfvq5DHtBwbUYSkEmehVAqIjL1MFs_cvD1flyxTn3AtUrGSKtrVsjYmwvzSxJ2PiAVRKeiYByV8I0QiufXeIbC06VyMpiBsG9gk5_hbt22xvlsX/s1600/Desperado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYESJMIaC0AkDVDjF_xO6SGH4DviXLUbfvq5DHtBwbUYSkEmehVAqIjL1MFs_cvD1flyxTn3AtUrGSKtrVsjYmwvzSxJ2PiAVRKeiYByV8I0QiufXeIbC06VyMpiBsG9gk5_hbt22xvlsX/s320/Desperado.jpg" width="320" /></a>I'm not much of a writer when I'm not motivated (like most things in my life when I'm motivated I'm unstoppable, however when not ... ) to write. How ever a few of my players have been. Since I do want to blog a bit I thought I'd present you with the journal entries of my players for our Hunter game. We've run three sessions in the Chronicle and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">we are still in the awakening phase of the chronicle, one think I asked them to do was build an heir in to their back story and journal so we could fast forward a generation after we sustained enough loses. the chronicle is set in post WW2 Berlin (1956). First up Character back stories.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="uiHeader" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">
<div class="clearfix uiHeaderTop" style="zoom: 1;">
<div>
<h2 class="uiHeaderTitle" style="color: #1c2a47; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
Andrei Baev - Russia's Patriot</h2>
</div>
</div>
<div class="clearfix" style="zoom: 1;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="clearfix" style="zoom: 1;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">(<em style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">This man stands at roughly 6'1". He's built sturdy, with enough muscle to give him strength without slowing down what appears to be a fair amount of physical dexterity. There's a hollowness in his Ice-blue eyes, and most people cannot stare into them too long. He's blonde, with his hair cut short in a typical military crew, and apparently he's growing the beginnings of a goatee. He wears what he likes to call 'american grease', a leather jacket over a white wifebeater. Jeans, and combat boots that seem to be old but still in rather fair condition cover him from the waist down. In a society that gives all it can to it's government, a society that for the most part lacks individuality, this man seems to hold on to whatever individuality he can. Although still in his youth, he shoes evidence of wrinkles and crows feet early on his face. A few silver strands also have sneaked their way into his hair. Obviously from stress.</em>)</span></div>
<div class="clearfix" style="zoom: 1;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="clearfix" style="zoom: 1;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">My father, Fyodr Baev, was a very large man. A very proud man. He viewed the previous regime of the Czar's to be a tyrranical one. One that cared only for the higher class, and catered to none other than them. So it was no surprise that Marx and his son's: Stalin and Lenin were icons to the soviet people. They preached an ideology that appealed to many, and my father fought proudly in the Revolution. So from the start, my family was baptized in Red. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="mtl fbDocument" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-top: 20px;">
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
I was born shortly after the Motherland got her footing under the glorious hammer and sickle. The farmer's tools. March 13th, 1925 was my birthday. Friday. My parents said that I was unlucky, so they gave me my name: Andrei. It means warrior. My last name names story-teller. So I guess that means they wanted me to remember what happened during the second great war. My father, at the time, was a Starshina. A Junior Commander. I should state this now, but you should forgive me if I can't inform you about my mother. She left shortly after giving birth to me. All I know her as, is a whore. My father's words.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
I grew up in Stalingrad, it was my home, my pride, and my heart. Despite the fact that my father had seen the outcome of this new regime would be no different than those of it's predecessors he still followed the communist party with his heart. As did I. When the treaty between the Fatherland and the Motherland was broken, and Leningrad was Seiged my father was called in to reinforce it and to evacuate any civilians left. I was 16 when my father was called into leningrad. He knew that the German Scum would push further in and in some twisted way, drafted me into the military. I loved the thought, I thought i'd be fighting for my country. To beat back those dogs back to the pound they came from only to slaughter them in their own houses. The filth needed to be put back into it's place.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
I was put into accelerated training, which was fancy wording for: "We teach you how to shoot, live, and kill. Then throw you into company with more than four privets to one german soldier." I was given the PPD, F-1 Grenades, and designated as a <em style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Krasnoarmeyets. </em>A red army man. I was put into the Bryansk Front which eventually changed to the 1st Ukranian Front as it penetrated into Berlin, and ignorant of the hell that I would witness. And eerily. The hell that I would grow accustomed too. After all, a Russian winter is cold. And there are two ways to stay warm: Vodka, and Hell.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
The battles I participated in are many: Smolensk, El'nia, and Roslavl. The battles of Voronezh, the defensive operations on the approaches to Stalingrad, and in the December 1942 Operation Saturn, the follow-on to the encirclement of German 6th Army at Stalingrad where it destroyed Hungarian Second Army. During 1944, the front participated with other fronts in the battles of Korsun-Shevchenkivskyy, and the battle of Hube's Pocket in Ukraine. It conducted theLviv-Sandomierz Offensive, during which the Front was controlling the Soviet 1st Guards Tank Army, 3rd Guards Tank Army, 4th Tank Army, 3rd Guards, 5th Guards, 13th, 38th, and 60th Armies. It then took part in the battle for Ternopil'. In 1945 the front participated in the Vistula-Oder offensive, and conducted the Silesian and Prague Operations, and the siege of Breslau. It also participated in the Berlin operations in Germany and Poland. The front also conducted the major part of the Halbe Encirclement, in which most of the German 9th Army was destroyed south of Berlin. By this time the Polish Second Army was operating as part of the Front. Finally 1st Ukrainian Front provided the defence against the counter-attacks by Armee Wenck which aimed to relieve Berlin and the 9th Army. It refers to the fronts that I was stationed in. Transfered too. For some reason, I was an unlucky enough bastard to always be at the front line. </div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
I was not left without my fair share of scars, but my father raised me to be big, strong, and keep on moving. My ear drum on the left side is perforated, so my hearing is shit. Not only that, I'm not for the big crowds. They make me uneasy, and remind me of the many dead and dying on the battlefield. The pain was large, and what I did was monsterous. I killed many fathers, sons, cousins, and nephews. Many Men, and Many boys. I also saw something that disturbed me. It was during the war, when, for some reason, my superior officer had me perform a strike operation with a number of other men from all different companies. This idea was so that the operation, if found out, could not be pegged on any one company and could not be definitively traced back to any special forces. </div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
We were going into a warehouse, Warehouse 17 in the industry district of Berlin. What we saw there, not only stained my mind, but gives me nightmares. 'Herr Doktors' there had been performing some sort of sick genetic testing, perhaps for some biological weapon, perhaps to create the 'Super Soldiers' that the mad dog of a Furher wished to create for his failing army. Some had fur, and looked more like dogs than men. Others, looked more like men than dogs. Their muscles were bigger than my thigh, I swear! And those that did not make it had been sliced up and put into large vats of green viscous liquid. I never saw anything else besides that, but since then, I've been watching the shadows, never allowing them to leave my sight.</div>
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-23882390675381155492011-07-07T15:56:00.000-07:002011-07-07T15:56:38.383-07:00I probably buy to many games.<div style="text-align: center;">Like Shadowrun 20th which I picked up yesterday at Game Empire:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFsQWiA2FB7v0y-OBy66-05i7myHx0rK0hx80x3Yaw54o4VRRVcRSvgAca0xF09nI60JSnsNvreqGJEgje8UvWXq5ke_OT_ZUewGYArn2UWJdtuOjofnzaTGrwmqjm6pVIoKHINfYzHw7W/s1600/200px-Shadowrun4A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFsQWiA2FB7v0y-OBy66-05i7myHx0rK0hx80x3Yaw54o4VRRVcRSvgAca0xF09nI60JSnsNvreqGJEgje8UvWXq5ke_OT_ZUewGYArn2UWJdtuOjofnzaTGrwmqjm6pVIoKHINfYzHw7W/s1600/200px-Shadowrun4A.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFsQWiA2FB7v0y-OBy66-05i7myHx0rK0hx80x3Yaw54o4VRRVcRSvgAca0xF09nI60JSnsNvreqGJEgje8UvWXq5ke_OT_ZUewGYArn2UWJdtuOjofnzaTGrwmqjm6pVIoKHINfYzHw7W/s1600/200px-Shadowrun4A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>And from ebay Car Wars which came in the mail today:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlVbvnMy_myLjJatQJ0qNlcMojFDaZcs_Z2vq_OyebYwIJFJU3bjdG_MOLI8ecxm3UYVvQud_AI0NGFub3BHnu54BbAQbgjXQiu2UMYu7nh0wRYfvK0VvMHNHYNNoK6qnqBWv3P0azYcc/s1600/029203929095451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlVbvnMy_myLjJatQJ0qNlcMojFDaZcs_Z2vq_OyebYwIJFJU3bjdG_MOLI8ecxm3UYVvQud_AI0NGFub3BHnu54BbAQbgjXQiu2UMYu7nh0wRYfvK0VvMHNHYNNoK6qnqBWv3P0azYcc/s1600/029203929095451.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And DC heroes which came yesterday:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_okzMB24NJ2okuCpgPG4s93bL9Ey6uqmXTY4ifgFryUJJETbpH9cVgIHrYlUZmCUG_p0tc9Hff_X1lcNut4A41XZx-WsmC3a49gCLo9OV2og7JrCiOctjAdo83ro1398Wf2jhrlRhg-Ve/s1600/dcheroes1st.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_okzMB24NJ2okuCpgPG4s93bL9Ey6uqmXTY4ifgFryUJJETbpH9cVgIHrYlUZmCUG_p0tc9Hff_X1lcNut4A41XZx-WsmC3a49gCLo9OV2og7JrCiOctjAdo83ro1398Wf2jhrlRhg-Ve/s1600/dcheroes1st.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh what to play ... our 2eAD&D group is talking about getting back together and the DM asked I'd like to run a game once a month. I seriously considered running the Temple of Elemental Evil all 1e, or OSRIC. But then I threw it out to the group, asking what they'd like to play since I've got shelves of games I'd love to play. We'll see what they say.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-38451040259490086362011-07-04T09:18:00.000-07:002011-07-04T09:18:05.595-07:00Wow energy drain is a bitch.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFx2-h7yQr9sRb6ADLDjDltU5TXcj3DyJ4mtzES5MozibVQoS4vw33kQ4VpAW-LCFvbIYGf-DhpcGTpZHuZ-9p5UNQdujin7SgMBrcIO0IeXwPNkZ_ZNJ2cjiwGxM0JB7M2bhCL4N0-vYo/s1600/Wraith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFx2-h7yQr9sRb6ADLDjDltU5TXcj3DyJ4mtzES5MozibVQoS4vw33kQ4VpAW-LCFvbIYGf-DhpcGTpZHuZ-9p5UNQdujin7SgMBrcIO0IeXwPNkZ_ZNJ2cjiwGxM0JB7M2bhCL4N0-vYo/s320/Wraith.jpg" width="305" /></a>Energy drain sucks. The quest our group is on has the players exploring an ancient tomb, based on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pharaoh-Advanced-Dungeons-Adventure-Characters/dp/0880380071?ie=UTF8&tag=di045-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">I3 Pharaoh</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=di045-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0880380071" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />. Long ago the inhabitants sealed themselves in bad stuff happened and most of them ended up undead; ghasts, ghouls, wrights, and wraiths it's a pretty miserable deadly place. We could have easily lost a few PC's if I hadn't gifted them a sweet healing stick to get them through the quest, they might be a little under powered for. Anyway the party added a cleric last session, and as a result they've been doing okay, but a wraith got through yesterday and tagged the ranger. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICrT5OcKkHXmMPdHqJGcSrh0pIhmRsVMiNuUeYPaqpYohfnv0EEYVEXeFHd32vOb413MEs4mc1oGDGGkpJxLYxQrc7JXd9HLCDEi-5hTr7khjE6gLLdfENs_uDGeiJiTwoJwbZ8Ugx73D/s1600/Lotr-3-2226-ringwraith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICrT5OcKkHXmMPdHqJGcSrh0pIhmRsVMiNuUeYPaqpYohfnv0EEYVEXeFHd32vOb413MEs4mc1oGDGGkpJxLYxQrc7JXd9HLCDEi-5hTr7khjE6gLLdfENs_uDGeiJiTwoJwbZ8Ugx73D/s320/Lotr-3-2226-ringwraith.jpg" width="320" /></a>I've always been of the opinion that energy drain attacks, not only suck, but are kind of unfair. It's happened to me and I hated it, I hated doing it to the ranger, but I'm not happy with any of the alternative energy drain systems I've perused. I've toyed with the idea of allowing a constitution saving throw, but I didn't think of it last night. Oh well, dame you Tolkien!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-40765302991653058712011-06-19T22:56:00.000-07:002011-06-20T08:28:48.571-07:00We were missing a player tonight, or how to be awesome!You'll read the word awesome a lot in this post, you've been warned. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3yZXWOioSzjKMZSb5ve6CQwG8vMx5dilvQgZIQTy4l5zFY1aKzaIZV2t4Q6fwCmjToJNirx-SedmnC3zaGAVv-KJ4ie3Rl01-NK5ZQnhWU5AbmonR-6mHcl9o2B2JwMUyZA0lXjSxnnz/s1600/maverickgoose--article_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3yZXWOioSzjKMZSb5ve6CQwG8vMx5dilvQgZIQTy4l5zFY1aKzaIZV2t4Q6fwCmjToJNirx-SedmnC3zaGAVv-KJ4ie3Rl01-NK5ZQnhWU5AbmonR-6mHcl9o2B2JwMUyZA0lXjSxnnz/s320/maverickgoose--article_image.jpg" width="320" /></a>So last night I was reading some blogs and trying to figure out how I might want todays game to shape up. For probably the fiftieth time I stopped in at <a href="http://www.risusmonkey.com/">Risus Monkey</a>, but for the first time I really read what he was doing with the little gem <a href="http://www.oldschoolhack.net/">Old School Hack</a>, and I thought "self you need a little break from this quasi-epic campaign, the paladin's player isn't going to be there why not just have a good time with a quick pick-up game". Super glad I did. We had characters rolled, written up, and a quick rules primer done in under half an hour. The players did a little role playing to get started, spent an hour or so dealing with one of the players adventuring goal. They found a map to a "bandits lair" and headed out to explore.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2OY9e6TLuyeQ5ahQYLeM6DibfPTPNCKjcuYKaf6qOnB3DaYR41xh01Q-lF4JjTHwM9pt8jnQXgE4yeEsO8Yt0xaLITrsFE0qZqQ5TFC-hJno0ss1gCc8jd-kZRA0K5M9o_Xoh46KA8X0/s1600/dungeons-and-dragons-rulebook-closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2OY9e6TLuyeQ5ahQYLeM6DibfPTPNCKjcuYKaf6qOnB3DaYR41xh01Q-lF4JjTHwM9pt8jnQXgE4yeEsO8Yt0xaLITrsFE0qZqQ5TFC-hJno0ss1gCc8jd-kZRA0K5M9o_Xoh46KA8X0/s320/dungeons-and-dragons-rulebook-closeup.jpg" width="320" /></a>If you haven't taken the twenty minutes to browse through the rules, the main crux of game is to be completely fraking awesome, and if your character does some thing awesome you get an awesome point, that anyone at the table can award. Then the only way you get experience is to spend awesome points, an ingenious way to get players to think about what they are doing beyond "I hit it with my axe". I've tried to introduce <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dresden-Files-Rpg-Your-Story/dp/0977153479?ie=UTF8&tag=di045-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">DFRPG</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=di045-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0977153479" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> style <a href="http://davesadnd.blogspot.com/2010/10/success.html">fate points</a> in our game from the get go. It has been less than a stellar success, in fact it's been a pretty big bust. No one including me really got it, so a few sessions ago I introduced hero points. Basically do some thing cool or heroic and you get a hero point which can be used to add a d6 to any d20 roll, start with three and you can earn up to five. Sounds simple enough, and the players spent a few when their backs against the wall. They just never seemed to want to earn more ... probably my fault. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7YLQt0jDtSq7QWvkP90UStfoeXz_zdBla1Imz_conxe77MYfg5n4tYO0uq0qz4JGmw6et85S72pUj_f6LWJekceUBvKK571lZMXrdNqx5p7GQMeIwaAdefEsdusdELmphtKez6uRfT7r/s1600/1127_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7YLQt0jDtSq7QWvkP90UStfoeXz_zdBla1Imz_conxe77MYfg5n4tYO0uq0qz4JGmw6et85S72pUj_f6LWJekceUBvKK571lZMXrdNqx5p7GQMeIwaAdefEsdusdELmphtKez6uRfT7r/s320/1127_1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Driving over to the game I thought, how do I encourage them to use and earn these points ... if you are not at least kind of interesting while you try to do some thing, and I figured it would come up in combat, then you are lame and all the enemies in the arena of your lameness get a free attack on you that automatically hits. Of course I forgot tell anyone this until the violation had been committed and the punishment dolled out. I had told them the point was to freaking awesome and cool, oops. Three auto hits, three points of damage, and one sort of butt hurt player later everyone got it, I apologized he was cool about it. Awesomeness followed, and it was cool. Now hopefully they can translate it over to the C&C game, I have faith.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-78920808129901232012011-06-15T15:53:00.000-07:002011-06-15T15:54:14.265-07:00Rules and me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1mG8FmFGa1oR3TlkOjXfuByn66GmNaUZkngDRC2_KKLly4ylSV_E_K6Sf_d9abCNJZIzsZHX0OKDt8Hv3B12tvQ6F6wJz8YwGABm1AQMeeUhVoWuGzfe-OKbxZEVGf2BwFEUeRi4lKfl/s1600/610JOE-bQML._SL500_AA280_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1mG8FmFGa1oR3TlkOjXfuByn66GmNaUZkngDRC2_KKLly4ylSV_E_K6Sf_d9abCNJZIzsZHX0OKDt8Hv3B12tvQ6F6wJz8YwGABm1AQMeeUhVoWuGzfe-OKbxZEVGf2BwFEUeRi4lKfl/s1600/610JOE-bQML._SL500_AA280_.jpg" /></a></div>I love indie games, I want to play more indie games, but it's kind of hard to find non D&D (throw Pathfinder in there) gamers. I don't know if people my age just want to imagine themselves killing goblins, orcs, and other shit to take their stuff, or what, but that's not the place where I am with my gaming. I am hoping to run a <a href="http://davesadnd.blogspot.com/2011/04/cj-carellas-witchcraft.html">Witchcraft</a> game very soon, and plan on developing a deep interactive plot with deep character development, NPC intrigue, a little horror all wrapped in a web of nasty trouble. I did, however, tell myself I would finish the story arc our game group is on for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Castles-Crusades-Players-Handbook-Printing/dp/1929474385?ie=UTF8&tag=di045-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Castles and Crusades</a>. I think more than indie games I'm just itching to play a non Fantasy game. The Star Wars game we started with the remnants on the <a href="http://davesadnd.blogspot.com/2011/04/ad-replaced-by-star-wars-rpg.html">AD&D2e group</a> ... well let me be honest I don't think one session counts as starting<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=di045-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1929474385" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />, was a glimmer of hope dashed by new employment for the GM. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvO9QY0Hc_g5lfmABA7s9e5br7hHwriXsucu_DX5mk6m6Ba1i8m6dCf2p8LL0FYoslfs8PMxDwSXr2SM5879bCvp3y5QAMEZE-mePiCrsVWPNjLg7bZoh6UH03n-jcdLIDRhJ-s5SVAp1/s1600/ILM+Halloween+Party+Poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvO9QY0Hc_g5lfmABA7s9e5br7hHwriXsucu_DX5mk6m6Ba1i8m6dCf2p8LL0FYoslfs8PMxDwSXr2SM5879bCvp3y5QAMEZE-mePiCrsVWPNjLg7bZoh6UH03n-jcdLIDRhJ-s5SVAp1/s320/ILM+Halloween+Party+Poster.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>So I went on the hunt for another game group to join, and found a new local <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pathfinder-Roleplaying-Game-Core-Rulebook/dp/1601251505?ie=UTF8&tag=di045-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Pathfinder</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=di045-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1601251505" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> game. Now I do enjoy me some rules light, mostly because that's about all me little dude brain can handle as a GM. Last night was our second session, and going till midnight on a Tuesday was cool, but made getting up at 6 (okay I snoozed till 7) this morning sort of tough. As a player I love the free online tools other geeks have made for me, and I can see as a GM it would be quick to throw a stat block together in a pinch. My problem is all the rules take a certain amount of creativity out of the game. In our C&C game I let my players do pretty much any thing if they have a great description of the action, and make an appropriate ability check. If they want to get up and charge the filthy ragged savage that just attacked their camp fine, but it better sound like "I leap to my feet grabbing orc cleaver scream get off my sister you fiend throwing down the scabbard, I spring over the dead fire pit I smash the bastard in the nose with a quick head butt and run the violator through." That's cool, and thank God there aren't move actions, standard action, free actions and whiner actions. I just want to play not spend most of the night watching someone else look up rules in a big book. However for now the group has been fun and I'll keep playing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-81841424040433507762011-06-13T09:26:00.000-07:002011-06-13T09:26:51.544-07:00Fire Storm, good vs. bad<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkx9NRPlT0_og1maPq9QHl7_xs8jXq6D4hQaoSoKbppRvwB_edGMWKMA4Oq8wVymi6idyDUw590yZ2dyjcctDAq8f6UEQ1KUOAh_ei80yrSSUzyDPP7z7bNxiUB1nqAUb9MEn1cWRbFRq/s1600/firestorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkx9NRPlT0_og1maPq9QHl7_xs8jXq6D4hQaoSoKbppRvwB_edGMWKMA4Oq8wVymi6idyDUw590yZ2dyjcctDAq8f6UEQ1KUOAh_ei80yrSSUzyDPP7z7bNxiUB1nqAUb9MEn1cWRbFRq/s320/firestorm.jpg" width="225" /></a>You notice the ground around you start to crackle as small embers come to life at your feet. In an instant you are engulfed in arcane fire. Smoke clogs your lungs and eyes, hair burns as does your flesh. Oh go ahead and make a Dex. save! Hugo reacts instantly nimbly leaping to relative safety. Miguel shrugs it the burning fire off like a light rain shower his Dwarven resistance to the arcane serves him well. His brother Alfonso is not so lucky, the fire overtakes him, he does not emerge from the flames. Captain Ron, though only on the edge of the deadly burning ring, struggles in the fire, and must have been over come by the smoke inhaling a lungful at the wrong second. Ron falls hard just out of the deadly ring. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-b60e1mkerU0yQ5Gwgy5WD65U6n5ce41rz3UCf5vOTPcxtlPQQ8dThowCoJClheS5MI6-f_XhyphenhyphenZUYyhfQbddIpS20Euo9VYs7jKyB2qnQ9WHCqyqlZPxKbapVUgwQqizT6GJcwLZZwN4R/s1600/fire_storm_iphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-b60e1mkerU0yQ5Gwgy5WD65U6n5ce41rz3UCf5vOTPcxtlPQQ8dThowCoJClheS5MI6-f_XhyphenhyphenZUYyhfQbddIpS20Euo9VYs7jKyB2qnQ9WHCqyqlZPxKbapVUgwQqizT6GJcwLZZwN4R/s200/fire_storm_iphone.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>The Demon's minion cases Fire Storm, make a Dex Save. Hugo and Miguel take 13 hp damage, and get out, Ron and Alfonso take the full 26 points of damage and both are knocked unconscious.<br />
<br />
Which was I, and which do I try to be? How do you want to handle descriptions?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-76152508719072606212011-06-11T22:34:00.000-07:002011-06-11T22:34:54.843-07:00I was a bad GM today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBtmY8Il1g9dqB8z7Bg9aYyVaP22dQIz54y9EOlHmlkpvRuRF7JtJ9cC_U7fYI605iHcm5aq9RDa8uZWA0me5zV8PGj4QHaVEklqkWK86swi-e4nhVJ7XFpya6WCCOhZYzgqA_PceoLml/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBtmY8Il1g9dqB8z7Bg9aYyVaP22dQIz54y9EOlHmlkpvRuRF7JtJ9cC_U7fYI605iHcm5aq9RDa8uZWA0me5zV8PGj4QHaVEklqkWK86swi-e4nhVJ7XFpya6WCCOhZYzgqA_PceoLml/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>I mapped out a few encounters (both role playing and potential combat), that forwarded the plot we've been embroiled in. In my mind (foreshadowing here) I mapped out the introduction of some new npc's, who I did have stats for, their personalities and motivations. I planned to introduce a little dynamic sub plot ... and I got to the table and my mind went kind of blank.<br />
<br />
Note to self write more depend on your fragile male noggin less.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-60117687071014425272011-04-16T11:53:00.000-07:002011-04-16T11:53:13.535-07:00AD&D replaced by Star Wars RPG<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivthQFPH8Kj6LzywhW944XopmJKlSzic2rR1vmrcea73tc9Q03UOkhKHpHXvKpUe6uyT2NICJEDdWF9pugg60eCF7_v1EBFtPRFpIVHKOri75yeRNQvDVcanzfvmfYPu561ICl1AAdUFEF/s1600/chewieleia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivthQFPH8Kj6LzywhW944XopmJKlSzic2rR1vmrcea73tc9Q03UOkhKHpHXvKpUe6uyT2NICJEDdWF9pugg60eCF7_v1EBFtPRFpIVHKOri75yeRNQvDVcanzfvmfYPu561ICl1AAdUFEF/s320/chewieleia.jpg" width="320" /></a>A month ago our 2e AD&D DM had to call it quits (family issues), which was a horrible loss. We'd been playing his campaign for a little over a year, the longest single game I've ever played in. At the end my dwarven cleric fighter Bob went from level 2/2 to 6/7 before he met his match in the second to last session we ran. It was sad to see him go, but in truth he had become a bit to powerful so I actually lobbied the DM to put him down. For the last game I made a gnome illusionist who I'd been building in my mind for a while. I had great things in mind, but was thwarted our last game, where in the only encounter we had was against undead. I had no idea what to do ... and forgot about the protection spell I'd cast on myself which almost cost Larry his new little life. Oh well.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3d0RXW5H89a3CJ3KO5rcvbJJwu9v-GN4bJQgpMyXeHsQrAjU7I3TSP1JPlaPLB1k6yOLx1SzrHQ62FHpzCIG1IGM4OyiURgJXkYtiDK8zkommxOrK294mlTR6ZrTlifTBWo7Wjslretr/s1600/doug-henning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3d0RXW5H89a3CJ3KO5rcvbJJwu9v-GN4bJQgpMyXeHsQrAjU7I3TSP1JPlaPLB1k6yOLx1SzrHQ62FHpzCIG1IGM4OyiURgJXkYtiDK8zkommxOrK294mlTR6ZrTlifTBWo7Wjslretr/s200/doug-henning.jpg" width="160" /></a><br />
The group rallied and one player offered to run <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Revised-Core-Rulebook-Star-Roleplaying/dp/078692876X?ie=UTF8&tag=di045-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Star Wars</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=di045-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=078692876X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> (WotC), which we had run a one shot of this summer. After several failed starts we got going last night. I'm playing a skinny scoundrel Alex Dijon with a 6 strength. It's kind of cool, but we played only a short session due to failed endurance checks. While I'm not a big d20 fan the game master runs a tight game, which based on last night should be filled with intrigue, subplots and lost of adventure. Count me in for fun.<br />
<br />
Still reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Witchcraft-Corebook-CJ-Carella/dp/1891153404?ie=UTF8&tag=di045-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">Witchcraft</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=di045-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1891153404" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" />, and scored an eBay auction with a couple of supplement books.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-28792748287653808762011-04-14T20:38:00.000-07:002011-04-14T20:38:23.119-07:00C.J. Carella's Witchcraft<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4HD4rQqOnUKNpEwfCy9S15-IujWgM_X4E5_3k34x-NFd2Jio3Con68VetPm_tY3wSCHO13HKtBhYqNa9SbV-Z-zXMax_vUZr-vI8ZPDucT-_kXTIzcxVW1C45lh4SwAGqpZAuG4kl39n/s1600/witchlogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4HD4rQqOnUKNpEwfCy9S15-IujWgM_X4E5_3k34x-NFd2Jio3Con68VetPm_tY3wSCHO13HKtBhYqNa9SbV-Z-zXMax_vUZr-vI8ZPDucT-_kXTIzcxVW1C45lh4SwAGqpZAuG4kl39n/s320/witchlogo.jpg" width="280" /></a>I'm thinking about starting a Witchcraft game. <br />
<br />
My Sunday afternoon group has lost two players, fortunately we'll be adding one so it'll still be a group to game with. So it might be a good time for a switch. Because I'm a book junkie I've still be acquiring new stuff most of which I don't read, however I'm hooked on Witchcraft. It's like World of Darkness (Hunter the Vigil ... which I'd play if it weren't for dice pools)and the Dresden Files mashed up in an easy fun system.<br />
<br />
Mostly I saw the <a href="http://hugeruinedpile.blogspot.com/">Huge Ruined Pile</a> stud posted for the first time since January and it got me thinking about RPG blogging again. I was thinking the other day driving home from a gig about Christian's <a href="http://unknownzine.blogspot.com/search/label/mini-supplements">Faces in the Crowd booklets</a>, maybe that's some I'll work on and post here. I'll need NPC's for the game, and some experience making <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unisystem">Unisystem</a> characters ... hopefully more soon, I still have to finish the book.<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196637975448568674.post-54947951612488937102011-01-15T16:47:00.000-08:002011-01-15T16:47:58.545-08:00I really don't care about WotC mini's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0eaZtcA-QoFMg1LmWVVkv-WJvNdyCySIuV2KwNPaE-Ayge2vJXRyAtwqubtMvBoR575ChKUIPaTq_uguSK5GBGE1pevNpZvkSvX5FuqP3dvuRyHNnuWN-CUcO_lpIm_uKx8K3o_GoLoBb/s1600/Mini%2527s-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0eaZtcA-QoFMg1LmWVVkv-WJvNdyCySIuV2KwNPaE-Ayge2vJXRyAtwqubtMvBoR575ChKUIPaTq_uguSK5GBGE1pevNpZvkSvX5FuqP3dvuRyHNnuWN-CUcO_lpIm_uKx8K3o_GoLoBb/s320/Mini%2527s-.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Yeah I bought a few when I got back into DMing, but I don't think I really need them. Eighteen years ago I bought a bunch of lead mini's and painted a few of them, but we never used them in our games. We didn't even use the counters that came in the revised edition MERP rules. All the action took place in our heads. We did play allot of Axis and Allis, and other board games, so we were familiar with counters, they just never showed up in our games. Now we also never played around a table, but in each others bedrooms, basements and living-rooms sprawled out in a chaotic mess. I do remember drawing few tactical maps for a Twilight 2000 game a ran for a while, probably spurred on by the cool maps that came in the second edition box, but there were no mini's or counters representing players or bad guys.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwj4O-10-50_jjUuiZ4YJcmkutAeUKE9_IYyusHWBHqcbqJSM205BrxTp7-3cgxuhAGDY-TKo_F2Tg6h7HJavX6uOFDhOOX-MMxQBqNohjg1TP3OHPI12_6tnLmHPxKvRRFrS8chlU_Q0z/s1600/Mini%2527s--2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwj4O-10-50_jjUuiZ4YJcmkutAeUKE9_IYyusHWBHqcbqJSM205BrxTp7-3cgxuhAGDY-TKo_F2Tg6h7HJavX6uOFDhOOX-MMxQBqNohjg1TP3OHPI12_6tnLmHPxKvRRFrS8chlU_Q0z/s200/Mini%2527s--2.jpg" width="168" /></a><br />
Yeah when we get back to our C&C game tomorrow afternoon I'm bringing my mini's mostly because I'm to busy trying to run the encounters (or Lazy) to try and remember where everyone is. My problem with mini's is they turn a chaotic melee encounter into a tactical exercise. Oh well it is what it is, I'll ponder ways to put the chaos back into combat at the table, for now I'm fine with it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14361021375594611141noreply@blogger.com1