Not so much "Ha ha" funny, but funny none the less. We finally got a new washer to replace the old broken one. We went up to Nebraska Furniture and were just going to compare prices. Well we head back to the washers and dryers and on the way back, we see a washer that is marked down $100 due to a small dent in the top, AND it is also 10% off says the handy salesperson who saw us browsing. He also said that was the only thing wrong with it, so what a great deal right? So we were all like "Yay! Whoopee!!" So we bought it and my brother helped me get it into our apartment that night. I started to load clothes in it and noticed the basin was shifted to the left a little. I figured it was just off center and I pushed it over and loaded it with a small batch of clothes. It ran okay, but when I was unloading the clothes, I noticed the basin had shifted left again. I figured it was just from the weight of the load and how it settled. So I loaded another load and shifted it back to centerish and ran it. And in the middle of the first spin cycle I heard a loud THUMP THUMP THUMP. That's right. The salesman lied. Can you believe it? I was shocked as well. Good thing we bought the 3 yr. warranty on it that covers everything. But now I have to wait until Monday for the repair guy to come and fix it. No cost to me because of the warranty and all, but still, a pain in the astronomical buttocks.
See. Funny.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Life is funny
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
A pretty cool game
I've barely started (just got off the training island) but I'm having a good time. It's turn-based, so you don't have to worry about too much happening while you're away, but there's an extensive forum if you want to interact.
Give it a try (and give me extra turns by going through my referral link!). :D
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
what I did on my vacation in Verbobonc
Leelu
After the Viscount’s meeting, you break away from the rest of the party and head across the Velverdyva to the Laughing Rogue. The swirling snow powder whips around you, and you’re glad to see the hostel come into sight. You pass through the thick wooden door and into the building. The barkeep, a sickly sort is unloading a crate of wine at the bar on your left when he breaks into a fit of coughing. He puts a dirty rag up to his mouth and spits, then continues his work. The large, open courtyard has a fresh blanket of snow to accompany the vulgar snow sculptures crafted by the hostel’s patrons. The courtyard is surrounded by a covered deck, with tables. In an alcove on each side of the square courtyard, under the covered section, a large fire helps to take the edge off the cold.
The sickly-looking barkeep, Chester, looks up as you come in and squints at you, as if trying to recall your face. His face is heavily lined and he has deep dark circles under his eyes. As the barkeep studies you, a tall lithe half-elf gets up from a table near the back of the courtyard. There are two other robed figures at the table, but they remain seated. The half-elf makes his way over to you. His perfect teeth glimmer in the shadows as he walks over toward you. “Thanks, Chester. This is..,” he looks at you and then nods as if deciding something. “This is Robyn, a new recruit.” The barkeep nods and smiles weakly before bursting into a fresh coughing fit.
“Poor guy, Chester. He’s never been right since his run-in with those bastards. Anyway. I’ve found a buyer for that black dragon’s egg that you were looking to get rid of. The men at the table back there,” he nods his head in their direction, “represent the buyer. I’ve negotiated a reasonable price, but they wanted to meet you first.” Illusk walks back toward the table he just left.
“Gentlemen,” he says, bowing, “this is the lady who has what you want.”
The two men at the table mutter their consent, nod at you and gesture at an available chair. The men confer in an unfamiliar, drawling dialect of elven, and the older one switches to common. “We are interested in your gift, and especially the possibility of more like it. You will give us this egg, yes?”
Illusk frowns and says, “We agreed on a price, friend sage.”
A brief look of frustration passes over the older man’s face, followed by a gracious smile. “Of course, forgive me, my friend. My mind slips at times. Now then, the agreed price was,” the old man looks around and leans in to whisper, “5000gp. Shall we pick up negotiations there?” The old man reaches into a pocket in his cloak and takes out a small earthenware pot of ink, a strip of parchment, and two quills. He pushes the ink, parchment, and a quill over to you and looks at you expectantly.
The prices continue to fluctuate back and forth, growing closer together as you pass the parchment back and forth, and finally a value is agreed upon. Illusk excuses himself and steps out of the hostel. In a few minutes, he returns carrying a small strongbox and a sheet of official-looking parchment. He has you and the old man sign the parchment, some sort of transfer of funds. Then he gives the strongbox to the old man and his companion. “We’ve had a specialist take a look at this. He told me to tell you that the egg was only laid a few months ago. It could still be over a year before it hatches. Right now, the strongbox is airtight, and the egg is sitting in a weak acid bath. He says to make sure you replace the acid bath every few days.”
The two men quickly depart after their prize is transferred. Illusk waves the barman over and orders two drinks, then leans over the table. “Those two were servants of the Shadow Sages, from the Valley of the Mage, west of the Lortmils. Someone in the Bloodied Fist must be working for the Shadow Sages too. I’m sure the Tusk would be interested to know that.” He pauses and grows silent.
“Speaking of the Tusk,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “there is another band of thieves who have been causing some little uproar among the Bloodied Fist. They’re calling themselves the Wayward Children. Right now, its just a minor annoyance to the Tusk, but some of the lower-level thieves and beggars loyal to the Fist have deserted and joined the Children, so he’s starting to take notice. Well. I thought you should know, use that information how you will.” Illusk finishes his drink and lays a few silver on the table, then walks into the blustery afternoon.
A few days later, while you’re relaxing at Degolar’s house, a servant delivers a sealed letter to you. You open it and find a line of instructions.
Come alone to the Thieves Highway, between the Guild of Brewers and Bakers and Kiles, tonight at midnight. –Illusk
When you arrive atop the building between the Guild of Brewers and Bakers and Kiles Spice Shop, you see the cloaked figure of Illusk standing near a well-worn but sturdy wooden table. There is also another figure with their face cloaked. The person is smaller, possibly a gnome or halfling. There are a variety of items on the table, gleaming in the moonlight. Many of them look expensive, wands, rods and staves, with a few items that don’t really fall into any category.
Illusk speaks quietly, with a slight smile on his face. “I’m sure you know my companion. I’ll leave you two now.” He bounds over to the next building, then the next, with graceful leaps and near silence.
The hooded figure speaks and you recognize her voice right away. “Hello, Leelu. You are interested in becoming more versatile with magic devices? Your dangerous friend Illusk has hired me to teach you what I can. You will meet me here every night for the next five weeks and we’ll see if I can make an adept out of you.” She pushes back her hood to reveal her identity, Mia Dragonslayer. “I’m not sure how that assassin found me, all the way up in the land of Black Ice, but he did. Don’t breathe a word of my presence to anyone.”
The sickly-looking barkeep, Chester, looks up as you come in and squints at you, as if trying to recall your face. His face is heavily lined and he has deep dark circles under his eyes. As the barkeep studies you, a tall lithe half-elf gets up from a table near the back of the courtyard. There are two other robed figures at the table, but they remain seated. The half-elf makes his way over to you. His perfect teeth glimmer in the shadows as he walks over toward you. “Thanks, Chester. This is..,” he looks at you and then nods as if deciding something. “This is Robyn, a new recruit.” The barkeep nods and smiles weakly before bursting into a fresh coughing fit.
“Poor guy, Chester. He’s never been right since his run-in with those bastards. Anyway. I’ve found a buyer for that black dragon’s egg that you were looking to get rid of. The men at the table back there,” he nods his head in their direction, “represent the buyer. I’ve negotiated a reasonable price, but they wanted to meet you first.” Illusk walks back toward the table he just left.
“Gentlemen,” he says, bowing, “this is the lady who has what you want.”
The two men at the table mutter their consent, nod at you and gesture at an available chair. The men confer in an unfamiliar, drawling dialect of elven, and the older one switches to common. “We are interested in your gift, and especially the possibility of more like it. You will give us this egg, yes?”
Illusk frowns and says, “We agreed on a price, friend sage.”
A brief look of frustration passes over the older man’s face, followed by a gracious smile. “Of course, forgive me, my friend. My mind slips at times. Now then, the agreed price was,” the old man looks around and leans in to whisper, “5000gp. Shall we pick up negotiations there?” The old man reaches into a pocket in his cloak and takes out a small earthenware pot of ink, a strip of parchment, and two quills. He pushes the ink, parchment, and a quill over to you and looks at you expectantly.
The prices continue to fluctuate back and forth, growing closer together as you pass the parchment back and forth, and finally a value is agreed upon. Illusk excuses himself and steps out of the hostel. In a few minutes, he returns carrying a small strongbox and a sheet of official-looking parchment. He has you and the old man sign the parchment, some sort of transfer of funds. Then he gives the strongbox to the old man and his companion. “We’ve had a specialist take a look at this. He told me to tell you that the egg was only laid a few months ago. It could still be over a year before it hatches. Right now, the strongbox is airtight, and the egg is sitting in a weak acid bath. He says to make sure you replace the acid bath every few days.”
The two men quickly depart after their prize is transferred. Illusk waves the barman over and orders two drinks, then leans over the table. “Those two were servants of the Shadow Sages, from the Valley of the Mage, west of the Lortmils. Someone in the Bloodied Fist must be working for the Shadow Sages too. I’m sure the Tusk would be interested to know that.” He pauses and grows silent.
“Speaking of the Tusk,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “there is another band of thieves who have been causing some little uproar among the Bloodied Fist. They’re calling themselves the Wayward Children. Right now, its just a minor annoyance to the Tusk, but some of the lower-level thieves and beggars loyal to the Fist have deserted and joined the Children, so he’s starting to take notice. Well. I thought you should know, use that information how you will.” Illusk finishes his drink and lays a few silver on the table, then walks into the blustery afternoon.
A few days later, while you’re relaxing at Degolar’s house, a servant delivers a sealed letter to you. You open it and find a line of instructions.
Come alone to the Thieves Highway, between the Guild of Brewers and Bakers and Kiles, tonight at midnight. –Illusk
When you arrive atop the building between the Guild of Brewers and Bakers and Kiles Spice Shop, you see the cloaked figure of Illusk standing near a well-worn but sturdy wooden table. There is also another figure with their face cloaked. The person is smaller, possibly a gnome or halfling. There are a variety of items on the table, gleaming in the moonlight. Many of them look expensive, wands, rods and staves, with a few items that don’t really fall into any category.
Illusk speaks quietly, with a slight smile on his face. “I’m sure you know my companion. I’ll leave you two now.” He bounds over to the next building, then the next, with graceful leaps and near silence.
The hooded figure speaks and you recognize her voice right away. “Hello, Leelu. You are interested in becoming more versatile with magic devices? Your dangerous friend Illusk has hired me to teach you what I can. You will meet me here every night for the next five weeks and we’ll see if I can make an adept out of you.” She pushes back her hood to reveal her identity, Mia Dragonslayer. “I’m not sure how that assassin found me, all the way up in the land of Black Ice, but he did. Don’t breathe a word of my presence to anyone.”
Aerin
When you first acquired Clotho’s shop, it was a wreck. Heyrath was an adequate shopkeeper, but his real talent was in dweomercraft. Heyrath’s skills continue to grow, and after two months, your shop is starting to show a profit.
After your party meets with the Viscount and the other adventuring party, you come by to check in on Heyrath’s progress. For the month of Fireseek, the business lost 98gp. But, after opening one morning, the wizard Juelihm stopped in to see the new shop, and look over Heyrath’s wares. Word of Juelihm’s presence at Heyrath’s shop spread like wildfire through the wizarding community, and soon there were all types of mage looking to buy and sell with Heyrath. For the next few months, this will attract a little more business and attention.
It’s midafternoon on Readying 4, and you’re hurrying through the snow-packed streets to the Silver Consortium. You can see its large silver and copper domes through the snowflurries. The sky is leaden and the wind cuts briskly through your clothes. Three or four minutes later, you arrive at the familiar banded wooden doors. A pair of older students clad in the silver-edged dark green robes of the Consortium stand in the main corridor inside the door. From the number of rings on their sleeve cuffs, one of these students is a fifth-year, and one is a third-year. The older student asks if he can direct you anywhere. You answer by giving him a withering glance and striding off toward the Guild Library. A few of the more studious mages-in-training are in the library, and a handful of the faculty, but it’s mostly empty. You speak with the gaunt, thin-lipped elven fellow in charge, and he directs you to the conjuration section. He reminds you that you can only have three books out at a time, unless you have special permission from a faculty member or the headmaster. You select a few titles, including Dunhill’s Papyrus and Unknown Movements of the Universe, volumes 1 and 2.
You make your way up to the fourth floor of the Silver Consortium, where the study rooms are located. A wizard is in charge of renting out the study rooms, the plaque on his door names him as Jereda Greywhisp. His office door is slightly open, and the smell of hot food wafts out. A portly wizard with a slightly stained, rumpled brown doublet looks up at you.
“Can you wait a few minutes, lad, as you can see, I’m at lunch. You’re welcome to share my wine and bread, if you like,” the fat fellow says. He continues eating his meal, a chicken leg, a small loaf of dark bread, and a flagon of wine. After a few minutes, he belches, sighs, and brushes the crumbs from his paunch. “Now, how can I help you?”
You explain that you’re working on a new spell, you would like a study room, and that you’ll need it off and on for a few weeks. Jereda asks if you need any supplies, or if you’ve brought your own. He offers a quill, an inkpot, and a sheaf of blank parchment for 8gp, in addition to the fee for the room, 1gp/day or 5gp/week.
Jereda then makes you sign his ledger to check out your room. He shows you your room, a drafty, plain cell, about 15ft square, with a window. A couple of inches of powdery snow lie unmelted on the floor and desk. “Bit cold in here during the winter. There’s a lantern on the desk if you plan on staying after dark. Hang on a minute and I’ll seal that window for you. The fat mage says a few words and the outline of a square shimmers over the window, then disappears. The mage brushes the snow off the desk, nods and winks at you, then trundles back down the hall.
After a little over two weeks, when your research is completed, you check out of your room and turn your books back in at the library. Then you make your way back over to Heyrath’s shop, where you close yourself in an office and examine your final costs for the spell.
The next time you check in with Heyrath, you find that a few days ago, he was approached by a band of thugs, who demanded 70gp a month for protection. They said that they would return in three days for their money. After talking with Heyrath about the situation, it would seem that the thugs have the backing of an upstart thieves guild in town. The good news is that you’ve made a bit more profit this month, 250gp. After the mortgage, this only leaves you down by 61gp for two months.
After your party meets with the Viscount and the other adventuring party, you come by to check in on Heyrath’s progress. For the month of Fireseek, the business lost 98gp. But, after opening one morning, the wizard Juelihm stopped in to see the new shop, and look over Heyrath’s wares. Word of Juelihm’s presence at Heyrath’s shop spread like wildfire through the wizarding community, and soon there were all types of mage looking to buy and sell with Heyrath. For the next few months, this will attract a little more business and attention.
It’s midafternoon on Readying 4, and you’re hurrying through the snow-packed streets to the Silver Consortium. You can see its large silver and copper domes through the snowflurries. The sky is leaden and the wind cuts briskly through your clothes. Three or four minutes later, you arrive at the familiar banded wooden doors. A pair of older students clad in the silver-edged dark green robes of the Consortium stand in the main corridor inside the door. From the number of rings on their sleeve cuffs, one of these students is a fifth-year, and one is a third-year. The older student asks if he can direct you anywhere. You answer by giving him a withering glance and striding off toward the Guild Library. A few of the more studious mages-in-training are in the library, and a handful of the faculty, but it’s mostly empty. You speak with the gaunt, thin-lipped elven fellow in charge, and he directs you to the conjuration section. He reminds you that you can only have three books out at a time, unless you have special permission from a faculty member or the headmaster. You select a few titles, including Dunhill’s Papyrus and Unknown Movements of the Universe, volumes 1 and 2.
You make your way up to the fourth floor of the Silver Consortium, where the study rooms are located. A wizard is in charge of renting out the study rooms, the plaque on his door names him as Jereda Greywhisp. His office door is slightly open, and the smell of hot food wafts out. A portly wizard with a slightly stained, rumpled brown doublet looks up at you.
“Can you wait a few minutes, lad, as you can see, I’m at lunch. You’re welcome to share my wine and bread, if you like,” the fat fellow says. He continues eating his meal, a chicken leg, a small loaf of dark bread, and a flagon of wine. After a few minutes, he belches, sighs, and brushes the crumbs from his paunch. “Now, how can I help you?”
You explain that you’re working on a new spell, you would like a study room, and that you’ll need it off and on for a few weeks. Jereda asks if you need any supplies, or if you’ve brought your own. He offers a quill, an inkpot, and a sheaf of blank parchment for 8gp, in addition to the fee for the room, 1gp/day or 5gp/week.
Jereda then makes you sign his ledger to check out your room. He shows you your room, a drafty, plain cell, about 15ft square, with a window. A couple of inches of powdery snow lie unmelted on the floor and desk. “Bit cold in here during the winter. There’s a lantern on the desk if you plan on staying after dark. Hang on a minute and I’ll seal that window for you. The fat mage says a few words and the outline of a square shimmers over the window, then disappears. The mage brushes the snow off the desk, nods and winks at you, then trundles back down the hall.
After a little over two weeks, when your research is completed, you check out of your room and turn your books back in at the library. Then you make your way back over to Heyrath’s shop, where you close yourself in an office and examine your final costs for the spell.
The next time you check in with Heyrath, you find that a few days ago, he was approached by a band of thugs, who demanded 70gp a month for protection. They said that they would return in three days for their money. After talking with Heyrath about the situation, it would seem that the thugs have the backing of an upstart thieves guild in town. The good news is that you’ve made a bit more profit this month, 250gp. After the mortgage, this only leaves you down by 61gp for two months.
Hadrian
Reconstruction of the damaged cathedral is proceeding slowly. The Archbishop Hadrigus has delegated much of the day-to-day oversight to you. The coffers of Pelor are quickly running dry. The surrounding churches and cathedrals have sent in a bit of financial help, but nothing remarkable. After the fire, most of the roof of the cathedral caved in, making services have been sparsely attended, even by Verbobonc’s homelss.
As it turns out, the bookkeeper of former Archbishop Serigan had been a little optimistic in his revenue forecasts. The dwarven work crews have stopped any work until they are paid for the last two weeks of labor.
The Archibishop Hadrigus is toying with the thought of reinstating Pelor’s Faithful, an elite membership of donors who’s favor with Pelor in the afterlife is directly related to the donation tendered toward the cathedral. It’s rumored that St. Cuthbert’s canonization may be related to his large tithing in addition to his moral code.
For the past few weeks, you and some of the other clergy have been working out of the second floor of the Verbobonc Mint. The Mint was kind enough to let the Church use the space until they had rebuilt the offices in the Cathedral. The offices are mostly similar, roughly 10x15 foot rooms with drab mud-colored walls, and a very-well preserved wood floor. Woolen bags of scrolls and official church documents sit on most of the available surfaces. A few wood blocks sit stacked in the corners, with leather cords wrapped around them. The office holds a small writing table and a chair, and a lantern. A metal tube, about three feet high, stands in one corner. All of the rooms have these, and they serve as a way to drop messages or post down to the floor below, a clever invention of the Verbobonc Mint.
Right now, your time is occupied by tedious meetings about church finance and worrying about how to pay for the cathedral’s reconstruction. In return for your dedication, Hadrigus, with the approval of the Matriarch of Dyvers, has raised you from the position of acting bishop to a full bishop, with all of the ranks and responsibilities that go with that role.
In addition, you’ve learned quite a bit about the hierarchy of the church of Pelor across the Flaeness and composed a small monograph on the subject.
The Hierarchy of the Church of Pelor
Archprelate – Head of the Church of Pelor, located in Niole Dra. When the time comes to select a new Archprelate, Patriarchs, select them.
Patriarch – Each region of Greyhawk has a Patriarch. There are 15 regions, each encompassing cities and sometimes entire nations. The regions are called cantons, and emanate out from these cities, which are also the names of the cantons: (Dyvers, Ekbir, Gorna, Greyhawk, Hornduran, Istivin, Leukish, Marner, Nevond Nevnend, Pitchfield, Radigast City, Rel Mord, Schwartzenbruin, Ul-Bakak). Patriarchs are appointed by the Archprelate, and gather twice a year in Rel Mord.
Archbishop – Each large city in each region has an Archbishop. Archbishops are appointed by the Patriarch of each region. Archbishops gather to their region’s chief city twice a year.
Primate – A Primate serves under the Archbishop, as a sort of ‘chief’ bishop, a leader of the other bishops. Primates are appointed by the Archbishop of their city and the Patriarch of the region. They also serve as bishops.
Bishop / Abbot – Bishops preside over small cities, large cities, and metropoli (DMG 137). They are appointed by the Archbishop and Patriarch of their city/region. A bishop can also be appointed to the position of Primate. Bishops are responsible for their churches/cathedrals, and for the oversight of other clergy. Abbots are of the same ecclesiastical rank as bishops, but oversee abbeys and monasteries.
Canon – Canons often oversee smaller churches in a bishop’s city. They also oversee churches in large and small towns (DMG 137). Canons are selected by bishops and have to be approved by a city’s primate.
Priest – Priests serve under canons and bishops/abbots. They don’t have the responsibility of a building to look after, and do much of the day-to-day work, along with performing some services. They are of the same ecclesiastical rank as vicars, and are appointed by bishops.
Vicar – Vicars oversee village and thorp churches or shrines. They are often the only member of the clergy at their church. They are of the same ecclesiastical rank as priests, and are appointed by bishops.
Acolyte – An acolyte is the lowest rank of clergy, and serves at the appointment of any of the higher ranking clergy. Much of the paperwork and chores are performed by acolytes.
As it turns out, the bookkeeper of former Archbishop Serigan had been a little optimistic in his revenue forecasts. The dwarven work crews have stopped any work until they are paid for the last two weeks of labor.
The Archibishop Hadrigus is toying with the thought of reinstating Pelor’s Faithful, an elite membership of donors who’s favor with Pelor in the afterlife is directly related to the donation tendered toward the cathedral. It’s rumored that St. Cuthbert’s canonization may be related to his large tithing in addition to his moral code.
For the past few weeks, you and some of the other clergy have been working out of the second floor of the Verbobonc Mint. The Mint was kind enough to let the Church use the space until they had rebuilt the offices in the Cathedral. The offices are mostly similar, roughly 10x15 foot rooms with drab mud-colored walls, and a very-well preserved wood floor. Woolen bags of scrolls and official church documents sit on most of the available surfaces. A few wood blocks sit stacked in the corners, with leather cords wrapped around them. The office holds a small writing table and a chair, and a lantern. A metal tube, about three feet high, stands in one corner. All of the rooms have these, and they serve as a way to drop messages or post down to the floor below, a clever invention of the Verbobonc Mint.
Right now, your time is occupied by tedious meetings about church finance and worrying about how to pay for the cathedral’s reconstruction. In return for your dedication, Hadrigus, with the approval of the Matriarch of Dyvers, has raised you from the position of acting bishop to a full bishop, with all of the ranks and responsibilities that go with that role.
In addition, you’ve learned quite a bit about the hierarchy of the church of Pelor across the Flaeness and composed a small monograph on the subject.
The Hierarchy of the Church of Pelor
Archprelate – Head of the Church of Pelor, located in Niole Dra. When the time comes to select a new Archprelate, Patriarchs, select them.
Patriarch – Each region of Greyhawk has a Patriarch. There are 15 regions, each encompassing cities and sometimes entire nations. The regions are called cantons, and emanate out from these cities, which are also the names of the cantons: (Dyvers, Ekbir, Gorna, Greyhawk, Hornduran, Istivin, Leukish, Marner, Nevond Nevnend, Pitchfield, Radigast City, Rel Mord, Schwartzenbruin, Ul-Bakak). Patriarchs are appointed by the Archprelate, and gather twice a year in Rel Mord.
Archbishop – Each large city in each region has an Archbishop. Archbishops are appointed by the Patriarch of each region. Archbishops gather to their region’s chief city twice a year.
Primate – A Primate serves under the Archbishop, as a sort of ‘chief’ bishop, a leader of the other bishops. Primates are appointed by the Archbishop of their city and the Patriarch of the region. They also serve as bishops.
Bishop / Abbot – Bishops preside over small cities, large cities, and metropoli (DMG 137). They are appointed by the Archbishop and Patriarch of their city/region. A bishop can also be appointed to the position of Primate. Bishops are responsible for their churches/cathedrals, and for the oversight of other clergy. Abbots are of the same ecclesiastical rank as bishops, but oversee abbeys and monasteries.
Canon – Canons often oversee smaller churches in a bishop’s city. They also oversee churches in large and small towns (DMG 137). Canons are selected by bishops and have to be approved by a city’s primate.
Priest – Priests serve under canons and bishops/abbots. They don’t have the responsibility of a building to look after, and do much of the day-to-day work, along with performing some services. They are of the same ecclesiastical rank as vicars, and are appointed by bishops.
Vicar – Vicars oversee village and thorp churches or shrines. They are often the only member of the clergy at their church. They are of the same ecclesiastical rank as priests, and are appointed by bishops.
Acolyte – An acolyte is the lowest rank of clergy, and serves at the appointment of any of the higher ranking clergy. Much of the paperwork and chores are performed by acolytes.
Degolar
After a few weeks of honing your craft in the taverns and watering holes around Verbobonc, you feel that you’ve gained great experience and some expertise, not to mention a heavier coin purse. You’ve been invited to dine with the young and charming Lady Mylindar Rhynehurst, at her family’s manor in the village of Rhynehurst; and both Lord Haxx and Viscount Langard have asked you to perform for them at their estates, at a tidy profit, of course.
You look out at the crowd at the Player’s Inn, after performing, and the crowd is swept up in your tale. Even the serving girls have stopped to listen, dented tankards of ale forgotten in their hands. All eyes are on you as you fall silent. Then, the room bursts into cheering, hands thumping on wooden tables for more. One more set, you decide, picking up your drum. The crowd grows even louder.
Midway through your second set, there’s a bustling in the back as two more onlookers crowd into the packed building. One is tall, stocky man with a large black beard. He wears red robes edged in gold. Etalis! And the other is an older man, a large floppy hat on his head, with a droopy silver-white mustache. It’s that fellow who matched your skill a few weeks ago, singing and performing in the wilderness. They came in together, so they must know each other. They stay near the back of the crowd, frequently leaning in to talk to each other. The older man’s eyes are alight with happiness as he watches you perform.
The second set seems to take forever to end, but the crowd is just as appreciative when you stop. Some of the audience comes up to you, grinning as they press coins into your hands. You can smell the ale and wine strongly from a few. Slowly, the audience take their seats or file out into the cold night. The normally stern innkeeper, Incel Mallethan, beams widely, congratulating you on another full house and brings you a fresh drink, “to keep your voice lubricated,” he says. “You’ve made my inn the most popular place in town, my friend,” Incel tells you, his slight Kingdom accent surfacing. “You’re welcome to perform here anytime, along with room and board at half the rate.” That last part is a bit of a shock to hear, since Incel is known to be a pinchpenny. His face grows serious then, and he puts a hand to his mouth and leans over to you, whispering to you about the two gentlemen at the back of the inn.
Etalis and the older man walk over to join you as Incel is speaking to you. Etalis booms, “Degolar, great act. I trust that you’re still considering application in the College of Concrescent Lore?”. At this, Thom’s mustaches twitch and he drawls, “Of course not, Unojar, he’s coming to study with me, though it looks like I can’t teach him much.”
You look out at the crowd at the Player’s Inn, after performing, and the crowd is swept up in your tale. Even the serving girls have stopped to listen, dented tankards of ale forgotten in their hands. All eyes are on you as you fall silent. Then, the room bursts into cheering, hands thumping on wooden tables for more. One more set, you decide, picking up your drum. The crowd grows even louder.
Midway through your second set, there’s a bustling in the back as two more onlookers crowd into the packed building. One is tall, stocky man with a large black beard. He wears red robes edged in gold. Etalis! And the other is an older man, a large floppy hat on his head, with a droopy silver-white mustache. It’s that fellow who matched your skill a few weeks ago, singing and performing in the wilderness. They came in together, so they must know each other. They stay near the back of the crowd, frequently leaning in to talk to each other. The older man’s eyes are alight with happiness as he watches you perform.
The second set seems to take forever to end, but the crowd is just as appreciative when you stop. Some of the audience comes up to you, grinning as they press coins into your hands. You can smell the ale and wine strongly from a few. Slowly, the audience take their seats or file out into the cold night. The normally stern innkeeper, Incel Mallethan, beams widely, congratulating you on another full house and brings you a fresh drink, “to keep your voice lubricated,” he says. “You’ve made my inn the most popular place in town, my friend,” Incel tells you, his slight Kingdom accent surfacing. “You’re welcome to perform here anytime, along with room and board at half the rate.” That last part is a bit of a shock to hear, since Incel is known to be a pinchpenny. His face grows serious then, and he puts a hand to his mouth and leans over to you, whispering to you about the two gentlemen at the back of the inn.
Etalis and the older man walk over to join you as Incel is speaking to you. Etalis booms, “Degolar, great act. I trust that you’re still considering application in the College of Concrescent Lore?”. At this, Thom’s mustaches twitch and he drawls, “Of course not, Unojar, he’s coming to study with me, though it looks like I can’t teach him much.”
Torias
Fingering your ring, you step through the heavy banded wooden doors of the Silver Consortium and into the drafty halls therein. After you get past the well-lit common room, you find the adjoining halls sparsely lit. Students of varying age and race acknowledge your presence with a smile or nod, as they rush past. Many have floating globes of light trailing shortly behind them.
You wind through the interior halls and corridors, then up the large rear staircase, heading up to the third floor. The Arcane Items level. Oddly, the door is shut. You hear hurried talking inside, then a loud, deep boom, like that of an explosion. A white-blue door of force appears over the normal wooden door. Smoke slowly snakes out between the wooden and force door, rising and filling the abscess between the doors. You hear loud expletives and coughing from inside, high-pitched, probably coming from the resident gnomish artificier, Biskin Sparkleshoot.
After a few seconds, the smoke disspates and the force door’s outlines shimmer, then fade.
“Get some air in here, fool girl, do you want to suffocate us? Well, young Bigby, I hope you’re happy with yourself.” the high-pitched voice says.
The door quickly opens and you can see that the room is in total disarray. A young female human is standing near the door, sooty marks on her face, hands, and clothes. She’s surprised to see you standing at the door and squeaks, and her face flushes in embarrassment. Biskin looks over at the door, his eyebrows and long white beard completely singed and blackened, with a similar sooty blackness covering him.
“Well, let the lad in, Lady Evoker. That spell still needs some work. Go to the library and do a little more research. Come back and see me tomorrow.”
The young girl packs her charred belongings, gathering up what look to be a handful of red-orange glass beads, as well as a couple of spellbooks and component pouches, then hurries out of the room.
“Poor girl. Turns out that not of all of young Bigby’s force spells make good catalysts for fireball beads. Well. What can I do for you, looking to have something crafted, boy? It might take an extra day, as I’ve got to clean up my lab now. Little experiment gone awry here. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Boots, eh? We can probably work that out. You’re a Silver Consortium student, right? Do you want to rent space to craft them, or you want me to do it for you? You know, if you’ve got a few weeks, you can learn how to craft these wondrous items yourself.”
“Well, lets see. Let me check my logbook.” He walks over to one relatively unscathed wooden workbench, where a leather-bound stack of papers lies. He flips through a few pages, crammed with schematic drawings and rushed writing. “Here we are. Yes, I could be persuaded to start right away on the boots. Then, if you want me to have a look at that ring you’re playing with, I can do that too. I can have your boots in a week. The ring will take another week or so. So you’ll be back to normal by the 17th of Readying. Almost normal, your purse will be a bit lighter.
You wind through the interior halls and corridors, then up the large rear staircase, heading up to the third floor. The Arcane Items level. Oddly, the door is shut. You hear hurried talking inside, then a loud, deep boom, like that of an explosion. A white-blue door of force appears over the normal wooden door. Smoke slowly snakes out between the wooden and force door, rising and filling the abscess between the doors. You hear loud expletives and coughing from inside, high-pitched, probably coming from the resident gnomish artificier, Biskin Sparkleshoot.
After a few seconds, the smoke disspates and the force door’s outlines shimmer, then fade.
“Get some air in here, fool girl, do you want to suffocate us? Well, young Bigby, I hope you’re happy with yourself.” the high-pitched voice says.
The door quickly opens and you can see that the room is in total disarray. A young female human is standing near the door, sooty marks on her face, hands, and clothes. She’s surprised to see you standing at the door and squeaks, and her face flushes in embarrassment. Biskin looks over at the door, his eyebrows and long white beard completely singed and blackened, with a similar sooty blackness covering him.
“Well, let the lad in, Lady Evoker. That spell still needs some work. Go to the library and do a little more research. Come back and see me tomorrow.”
The young girl packs her charred belongings, gathering up what look to be a handful of red-orange glass beads, as well as a couple of spellbooks and component pouches, then hurries out of the room.
“Poor girl. Turns out that not of all of young Bigby’s force spells make good catalysts for fireball beads. Well. What can I do for you, looking to have something crafted, boy? It might take an extra day, as I’ve got to clean up my lab now. Little experiment gone awry here. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Boots, eh? We can probably work that out. You’re a Silver Consortium student, right? Do you want to rent space to craft them, or you want me to do it for you? You know, if you’ve got a few weeks, you can learn how to craft these wondrous items yourself.”
“Well, lets see. Let me check my logbook.” He walks over to one relatively unscathed wooden workbench, where a leather-bound stack of papers lies. He flips through a few pages, crammed with schematic drawings and rushed writing. “Here we are. Yes, I could be persuaded to start right away on the boots. Then, if you want me to have a look at that ring you’re playing with, I can do that too. I can have your boots in a week. The ring will take another week or so. So you’ll be back to normal by the 17th of Readying. Almost normal, your purse will be a bit lighter.
Lummox
A few acres northeast of town, a small cottage puffs grey-white smoke from its red brick chimney. The cottage and surrounding outbuildings are all neatly fenced in. Snow covers the fields and roofs, and there aren’t any tracks either to or from town. Near the cottage, a large green barn stands, doors open. You can hear a pair of voices inside, and the whinnies and cries of a horse. Yellow lantern-light illuminates the barn on this early, snowy morning.
The commotion is coming from one of the horse-stalls inside the barn. The dirt-packed floor inside the barn is frozen under your feet as you walk to the stall. Once there, you see a pregnant horse lying on a pile of fresh straw, while Grissom and one of his apprentices are trying to turn its foal to deliver it.
Grissom must have heard you come in, because he turns slightly and speaks in a gentle voice. “Ahh, Lummox. Glad you’ve come back. Give us a hand.”
A couple of hours later, the new foal is standing on wobbly legs and you have a chance to speak with the kindly animal trainer. He seems excited by the prospect of helping you train your mount and speaks rapidly, his eyes flicking from you to somewhere behind you, as if you’ve brought the griffon with you.
"So, where’s this griffon? Have you made any progress on training him? I’ve never trained a flier before, it’ll be a learning experience for both of us. We may need Reshaph’s help. He’s pretty good with exotic animals, too. How long do you have to stay with us? Usually it takes a month or so to train an animal to ride.”
“Usually, I charge people to train their animals, but you’ll be doing most of the work, I figure. You going to stay here, or in town? Either way, you’re in for some long days. Be here an hour before dawn, and you’ll leave an hour after sunset. Probably best to leave the animal here. And I’ll have to charge you a few nobles for that, and the feed, of course. Might ask Reshaph what griffons eat when you find him. He’s been spending a lot of time in the Dawn Quarter lately. You might try the Familiar’s Roost first. You’ve been to the Roost before, I trust? You need to be able to shapechange into a bird.”
“Oh, you can’t change your own shape? Well. Uhmm.” He scratches his head for a moment.” Wait here for a few minutes, this might work.” He walks quickly back to his cottage from the barn. After a few moments, he emerges, using his homespun cotton sleeve to polish the dust from something he’s holding.
He walks back over and opens his hand to reveal a small silver and emerald bird, its wings stretched in flight. “I traded this off a druid in the Adri Forest when I was a lad. Gave him an old red gem I’d found in the mountains. See, you blow on the bird’s back and it’s wings close. When it’s wings are open, you can say a magic word and it’ll turn you into a green jay. Similar to a blue jay, but with green coloring instead. This little bird will let you into the Familiar’s Roost. After an hour, it’ll wear off. I bet there’s a way to change back, but I could never figure it out. Maybe Reshaph will know. Anyway, bring it back when you’re done with it. I’d hate to lose it.”
Later that day, the sun has thawed the cobbled snowy streets into a slushy mess. It’s a constant effort to dodge out of the way of wagons splashing dirty snow in all directions. You find yourself at the end of Trader’s Road, staring up at a colossal elm tree. All sorts of birds, common and exotic, can be seen in and around the lofty limbs of the tree. Trader’s Road ends here, between the Familiar’s Roost (a cramped inn/tavern that is built around the huge tree.) and the Elven Barracks.
There is no entrance at ground level, that you can see.
You fly up and after twenty feet or so, you can hear people talking inside the foliage. Other birds are perched all over the tree, singing and tweeting musically. There’s a walkway near the tree that leads to smaller platforms where all sorts sit and talk.
Reshaph is talking with a small group of people when you find him. He’s clean-shaven on his cheeks, but wears a long goatee that’s braided and secured to his jerkin with a silver broach in the shape of a twisting vine. He wears worn, muted green broadcloth garments. A few birds are flitting over his party, and many chirp a greeting while winging past.
You only recognize two of the men talking to Reshaph, one is the Viscount Langard, the other, interestingly, is the rogue Illusk. There are two others who you haven’t seen before. One is a scruffy-looking sort, with a short, wispy white beard, a leather vest, and beggar’s rags. The other is a well-dressed man with a closely trimmed goatee. He’s wearing dark red brocade with gold thread and seed pearls, and a leather beret. You only catch a bit of the conversation before the group breaks up.
“It’s agreed then? You’ll remove this object from the city immediately?” says Langard sternly.
“Of course, my Lord. As soon as our business is done at the Chapel of Zilchus. The object is still in the vault, Illusk?” the scruffy, white-bearded man asks.
“Of course.”
“Then we are done here.” Langard says, and stands.
The men leave the area, except for Reshaph, who looks directly at you.
“A green bluejay. Not a common bird around here, to be sure. You’ve overheard more than you needed to. He draws a slender wand from his robes and points it at you. Now, come down from that branch and I’ll return you to your normal form. Then we’ll decide what to do with you.”
Reshaph flicks his wand at you and says a couple of words in draconic. You feel a strange swelling and morph back into your normal form.
Reshaph laughs, a deep hearty laugh. “Ah, Friend Lummox. I didn’t know you were a shapeshifter. Well, you might as well know. Your companion Leelu, a buyer has been found for her dragon’s egg. Langard caught wind of the thing being here in the city, and we had to call this meeting to assuage him. Illusk should be contacting her with the rest of the information.
“So, why have you come to see me, friend?” he asks. You explain your talk with Grissom about training your griffon.
“Aye, I’ll help you with your griffon. How long do you have? And the beast’s at Grissoms? Well, usually we’d only be able to train it to do one thing, like hold you and fly. But between the three of us, we should be able to train it faster. And, this is a good excuse for me to catch up with Grissom. And ask him how he came across that curious bird bauble.”
The commotion is coming from one of the horse-stalls inside the barn. The dirt-packed floor inside the barn is frozen under your feet as you walk to the stall. Once there, you see a pregnant horse lying on a pile of fresh straw, while Grissom and one of his apprentices are trying to turn its foal to deliver it.
Grissom must have heard you come in, because he turns slightly and speaks in a gentle voice. “Ahh, Lummox. Glad you’ve come back. Give us a hand.”
A couple of hours later, the new foal is standing on wobbly legs and you have a chance to speak with the kindly animal trainer. He seems excited by the prospect of helping you train your mount and speaks rapidly, his eyes flicking from you to somewhere behind you, as if you’ve brought the griffon with you.
"So, where’s this griffon? Have you made any progress on training him? I’ve never trained a flier before, it’ll be a learning experience for both of us. We may need Reshaph’s help. He’s pretty good with exotic animals, too. How long do you have to stay with us? Usually it takes a month or so to train an animal to ride.”
“Usually, I charge people to train their animals, but you’ll be doing most of the work, I figure. You going to stay here, or in town? Either way, you’re in for some long days. Be here an hour before dawn, and you’ll leave an hour after sunset. Probably best to leave the animal here. And I’ll have to charge you a few nobles for that, and the feed, of course. Might ask Reshaph what griffons eat when you find him. He’s been spending a lot of time in the Dawn Quarter lately. You might try the Familiar’s Roost first. You’ve been to the Roost before, I trust? You need to be able to shapechange into a bird.”
“Oh, you can’t change your own shape? Well. Uhmm.” He scratches his head for a moment.” Wait here for a few minutes, this might work.” He walks quickly back to his cottage from the barn. After a few moments, he emerges, using his homespun cotton sleeve to polish the dust from something he’s holding.
He walks back over and opens his hand to reveal a small silver and emerald bird, its wings stretched in flight. “I traded this off a druid in the Adri Forest when I was a lad. Gave him an old red gem I’d found in the mountains. See, you blow on the bird’s back and it’s wings close. When it’s wings are open, you can say a magic word and it’ll turn you into a green jay. Similar to a blue jay, but with green coloring instead. This little bird will let you into the Familiar’s Roost. After an hour, it’ll wear off. I bet there’s a way to change back, but I could never figure it out. Maybe Reshaph will know. Anyway, bring it back when you’re done with it. I’d hate to lose it.”
Later that day, the sun has thawed the cobbled snowy streets into a slushy mess. It’s a constant effort to dodge out of the way of wagons splashing dirty snow in all directions. You find yourself at the end of Trader’s Road, staring up at a colossal elm tree. All sorts of birds, common and exotic, can be seen in and around the lofty limbs of the tree. Trader’s Road ends here, between the Familiar’s Roost (a cramped inn/tavern that is built around the huge tree.) and the Elven Barracks.
There is no entrance at ground level, that you can see.
You fly up and after twenty feet or so, you can hear people talking inside the foliage. Other birds are perched all over the tree, singing and tweeting musically. There’s a walkway near the tree that leads to smaller platforms where all sorts sit and talk.
Reshaph is talking with a small group of people when you find him. He’s clean-shaven on his cheeks, but wears a long goatee that’s braided and secured to his jerkin with a silver broach in the shape of a twisting vine. He wears worn, muted green broadcloth garments. A few birds are flitting over his party, and many chirp a greeting while winging past.
You only recognize two of the men talking to Reshaph, one is the Viscount Langard, the other, interestingly, is the rogue Illusk. There are two others who you haven’t seen before. One is a scruffy-looking sort, with a short, wispy white beard, a leather vest, and beggar’s rags. The other is a well-dressed man with a closely trimmed goatee. He’s wearing dark red brocade with gold thread and seed pearls, and a leather beret. You only catch a bit of the conversation before the group breaks up.
“It’s agreed then? You’ll remove this object from the city immediately?” says Langard sternly.
“Of course, my Lord. As soon as our business is done at the Chapel of Zilchus. The object is still in the vault, Illusk?” the scruffy, white-bearded man asks.
“Of course.”
“Then we are done here.” Langard says, and stands.
The men leave the area, except for Reshaph, who looks directly at you.
“A green bluejay. Not a common bird around here, to be sure. You’ve overheard more than you needed to. He draws a slender wand from his robes and points it at you. Now, come down from that branch and I’ll return you to your normal form. Then we’ll decide what to do with you.”
Reshaph flicks his wand at you and says a couple of words in draconic. You feel a strange swelling and morph back into your normal form.
Reshaph laughs, a deep hearty laugh. “Ah, Friend Lummox. I didn’t know you were a shapeshifter. Well, you might as well know. Your companion Leelu, a buyer has been found for her dragon’s egg. Langard caught wind of the thing being here in the city, and we had to call this meeting to assuage him. Illusk should be contacting her with the rest of the information.
“So, why have you come to see me, friend?” he asks. You explain your talk with Grissom about training your griffon.
“Aye, I’ll help you with your griffon. How long do you have? And the beast’s at Grissoms? Well, usually we’d only be able to train it to do one thing, like hold you and fly. But between the three of us, we should be able to train it faster. And, this is a good excuse for me to catch up with Grissom. And ask him how he came across that curious bird bauble.”
Monday, September 25, 2006
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
next week's teaser
The babau Chemosh skulks down the bloodied hallway to survey his servants’ handiwork. Two of his hill giants are dead, their eyes glassy and dim. A crowd of kobolds have gathered around. One of the giant mountain trolls also stands nearby, looking on dumbly.
The kobolds start arguing squeakily in draconic and animatedly pointing at the huge troll, who has just withdrawn his finger from his ear and is sniffing his find. “Me eat?” it thunders questioningly.
Chemosh sighs and begins stalking back down the corridor when another figure, robed in dark rubbery hide, walks out of the darkness. It’s purplish-grey head is mostly cowled, but four slimy tentacles hang down its chest. Chemosh snarls, “Satau. Finally you’ve arrived. Come with me, I need an augury.”
The babau stops suddenly and turns back to the kobolds, who continue arguing loudly. “Entrails,” he says, under his breath. After a few seconds, they stop abruptly as they notice Chemosh and Satau looking at them. “Toffug. Come with me,” Chemosh growls. The kobold Toffug pales visibly and looks wildly at his compatriots, who all suddenly study the giant corpses intently, not making eye-contact with him. Toffug, eyes wide and trembling, shuffles over to the menacing pair. “Don’t worry, Toffug. You want to make Tharizdun proud, don’t you?” the babau grins wickedly.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
So, it appears that Teusday was Talk Like a Pirate Day. I just want to know why I wasn't notified until now. I mean, c'mon. Pirate pickup lines. "Pardon me, but would ya mind if fired me cannon through your porthole?"
Friday, September 15, 2006
Matters of Size
Question: When filling in the spot where it says "size" on my character sheet am I supposed to just put the length or length and thickness?
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
In case you were wondering
The reason I have been having so much free time lately is because I got fired. Apparently, I should have gone back into work with vertigo and migraines. Silly me for not knowing that. So if anyone has any ideas for a way to make a quick buck??? And not you Jason. I know what you have in mind.
Oh, by the way, any night is good for DnD for me.
Oh, by the way, any night is good for DnD for me.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Future
A lot of you don't seem to be as happy playing the new characters as the old. We are going to be switching back. Not immediately. But within the next two or three sessions. I'm still thinking about how to work Kilminsk into the real party. There are two schools of thought. I can have some sort of arcane accident happen to him, and raise his levels (which I don't really like), or I can keep him at regular level and just have him join the party. The way XP is done, he'll gain more than the rest of you and catch up reasonably quickly.
Also, your main characters have had over a month of downtime. I've got four of you done. Aerin and Leelu still remain. When I get all of your little stories done, I'll post them, and you can review them. We can fine-tune as needed, but most of you chose to spend time 'training', so you might get some neat bonuses.
So, tell me your thoughts.
Also, your main characters have had over a month of downtime. I've got four of you done. Aerin and Leelu still remain. When I get all of your little stories done, I'll post them, and you can review them. We can fine-tune as needed, but most of you chose to spend time 'training', so you might get some neat bonuses.
So, tell me your thoughts.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The Ranger
Two cloaked merchants, closely followed by a warrior, a barbarian, and a ranger, walked swiftly northwards along the narrow dirt road. The ranger thought it odd that the merchants had no caravan or even a small, ox-driven cart to carry their trade goods, but when he inquired about this, the taller of the two men stated that their wares were small, yet none-the-less valuable, and they would be held concealed on their person at all times. That was the last the ranger heard on the subject.
The three strong men-at-arms that accompanied the merchants had been recently hired to escort the tradesmen north, and they were told nothing more, not even the final destination. This didn’t, for the most part, bother the men, as the pay had been significant enough to waylay most of their suspicions before nervous doubt could set in. The ranger seemed to be the only one of the three that suspected the merchants to be more than they claimed, but he kept his uncertainties to himself. He wanted the final compensation promised to him, nothing more.
On this particular evening, several weeks into the journey, the party decided to take their nights rest in a small cave. The cave looked safe enough; it was sturdy and would provide ample shelter, and while they could see only blackness as the chamber descended into the mountain, they saw no signs of any inhabitants that should threaten them in the night. The group readied for sleep, with the barbarian and warrior at the sides of the merchants, and the ranger a few yards off, closer to the cave’s opening. The barbarian volunteered for watch duty, but the short merchant waved him off, explaining that he and his partner had used these very same caverns many times, and that no watch was necessary. The barbarian, satisfied, shrugged his massive shoulders and laid down, but the ranger was not so easily convinced. Nevertheless, they all shut their eyes and drifted into slumber. The pace of the journey had been swift indeed.
The ranger was the first to awaken to what sounded like heavily thumping feet. He continued to lay motionless, and, with his hands resting on the twin blades clasped to his belt, he waited.
The barbarian and warrior jumped to their feet just in time to meet the three ogres that had come charging at them from the blackness at the rear of the cave. Fortunately, while the two fighters weren’t the brightest, they had been trained and seasoned well enough to greet the ogres charge without facing too much of a disadvantage, dodging the initial charge. Then too the ranger sprang to his feet, immediately noticing that the two merchants were nowhere to be seen. A small matter, for now, as there was a bigger problem at hand. The odds didn’t seem all that bad to the ambushed men, trained fighters against a few dimwitted ogres, and they each quickly engaged the nearest ogre.
Moonlight spilled into the cavern’s entrance, causing the ranger’s slightly curved blades to shine bright as he gracefully ducked under another brutal sweep of the ogres hard wooden club. With one quick motion, he brought both swords across the ogres receding arm, drawing blood but doing no serious damage. The ranger’s strikes were not ferocious and powerful, but rather fast and accurate. He knew he could not hope to easily take down this massive beast with his small weapons, but if he could stay in the fight long enough he would do enough harm to prevail.
The ogre raised his club and the ranger sidestepped around to the beasts back, all the while slashing at any visible opening. Trickles of blood spilled down the ogre’s body from a dozen small gashes, yet it still fought with full ferocity. The ogre turned, but the downswing flew wildly and missed the ranger, who then took the opportunity to thrust one sword deep into the savage’s ribs. Blood gushed out around the imbedded sword’s hilt, and the ogre roared and jerked away, leaving the ranger with just one weapon. The ranger saw his opportunity, and lunged forward to deliver the killing blow. The ogre met him with unexpected quickness, however, and with one motion it brought the club across the ranger’s shoulder, sending him sprawling. The ranger struggled to his feet, angered that he allowed himself to be so careless. Searing pain coursed through his left arm, but in the heat of the battle he hardly noticed.
The ogre grinned as he eyed his seemingly broken prey. He thought the fun was over; his shrewd strike had been more than the pitiful little humanoid could handle. He slowly raised the massive club above his head, gathering enough strength to completely squash the little vermin in front of him. He overestimated his own power, however, and the ranger was not nearly as finished he had assumed. Watching the ogre mockingly raise his club, the ranger suddenly burned with a hideous and intense rage. He had let his guard down, and he had paid the price. Never again would he allow that to happen. With the sure agility of his mother’s heritage he leapt at the ogre with blinding speed and drove his remaining sword deep into the monster’s belly, spilling bloody bile all over his weary hands. Clenching his teeth he choked the sword, his muscles pulsed with anger, and with the strength of his father he slit the beast nearly in half, spilling it’s putrid organs and covering himself in fleshy gore. The monster fell to the ground, unreservedly lifeless. The ranger ripped his blade from the contorted beast and, surveying the battleground, readied himself for the rest of the fight.
The warrior’s mangled body fell limp to the cavern floor, and the bloody barbarian slowly faced off against the two remaining ogres. They came at him gradually, as if intimidated by the barbarian’s unyielding strength. The ranger began to creep towards the barbarian’s side, but just as he did so the true reason for the ogre’s strange delay burst forth. No fewer than five more ogres rushed to aide their comrades in battle, their faces distorted with cruel and repulsive sneers. The ranger was not about to charge in and die for some strange merchants and a barbarian he hardly knew. Instead, he quietly snuck out of the cave and fled into the comfort and familiarity of the surrounding wilderness.
The ranger heard the uproarious shouts of the ogres along with the muffled shrieks of the dying barbarian, but he felt no sympathy for the foolishly brave man. Tuning out the now distant commotion, the ranger examined his wounds. Thankfully, his shoulder wasn’t broken, only badly bruised. It would heal.
Utterly exhausted and yet still covered in the grotesque filth of the dead ogre, the ranger slumped to the ground near a large, dying tree. He closed his eyes, and there, battered but still very much alive, the ranger slept.
The three strong men-at-arms that accompanied the merchants had been recently hired to escort the tradesmen north, and they were told nothing more, not even the final destination. This didn’t, for the most part, bother the men, as the pay had been significant enough to waylay most of their suspicions before nervous doubt could set in. The ranger seemed to be the only one of the three that suspected the merchants to be more than they claimed, but he kept his uncertainties to himself. He wanted the final compensation promised to him, nothing more.
On this particular evening, several weeks into the journey, the party decided to take their nights rest in a small cave. The cave looked safe enough; it was sturdy and would provide ample shelter, and while they could see only blackness as the chamber descended into the mountain, they saw no signs of any inhabitants that should threaten them in the night. The group readied for sleep, with the barbarian and warrior at the sides of the merchants, and the ranger a few yards off, closer to the cave’s opening. The barbarian volunteered for watch duty, but the short merchant waved him off, explaining that he and his partner had used these very same caverns many times, and that no watch was necessary. The barbarian, satisfied, shrugged his massive shoulders and laid down, but the ranger was not so easily convinced. Nevertheless, they all shut their eyes and drifted into slumber. The pace of the journey had been swift indeed.
The ranger was the first to awaken to what sounded like heavily thumping feet. He continued to lay motionless, and, with his hands resting on the twin blades clasped to his belt, he waited.
The barbarian and warrior jumped to their feet just in time to meet the three ogres that had come charging at them from the blackness at the rear of the cave. Fortunately, while the two fighters weren’t the brightest, they had been trained and seasoned well enough to greet the ogres charge without facing too much of a disadvantage, dodging the initial charge. Then too the ranger sprang to his feet, immediately noticing that the two merchants were nowhere to be seen. A small matter, for now, as there was a bigger problem at hand. The odds didn’t seem all that bad to the ambushed men, trained fighters against a few dimwitted ogres, and they each quickly engaged the nearest ogre.
Moonlight spilled into the cavern’s entrance, causing the ranger’s slightly curved blades to shine bright as he gracefully ducked under another brutal sweep of the ogres hard wooden club. With one quick motion, he brought both swords across the ogres receding arm, drawing blood but doing no serious damage. The ranger’s strikes were not ferocious and powerful, but rather fast and accurate. He knew he could not hope to easily take down this massive beast with his small weapons, but if he could stay in the fight long enough he would do enough harm to prevail.
The ogre raised his club and the ranger sidestepped around to the beasts back, all the while slashing at any visible opening. Trickles of blood spilled down the ogre’s body from a dozen small gashes, yet it still fought with full ferocity. The ogre turned, but the downswing flew wildly and missed the ranger, who then took the opportunity to thrust one sword deep into the savage’s ribs. Blood gushed out around the imbedded sword’s hilt, and the ogre roared and jerked away, leaving the ranger with just one weapon. The ranger saw his opportunity, and lunged forward to deliver the killing blow. The ogre met him with unexpected quickness, however, and with one motion it brought the club across the ranger’s shoulder, sending him sprawling. The ranger struggled to his feet, angered that he allowed himself to be so careless. Searing pain coursed through his left arm, but in the heat of the battle he hardly noticed.
The ogre grinned as he eyed his seemingly broken prey. He thought the fun was over; his shrewd strike had been more than the pitiful little humanoid could handle. He slowly raised the massive club above his head, gathering enough strength to completely squash the little vermin in front of him. He overestimated his own power, however, and the ranger was not nearly as finished he had assumed. Watching the ogre mockingly raise his club, the ranger suddenly burned with a hideous and intense rage. He had let his guard down, and he had paid the price. Never again would he allow that to happen. With the sure agility of his mother’s heritage he leapt at the ogre with blinding speed and drove his remaining sword deep into the monster’s belly, spilling bloody bile all over his weary hands. Clenching his teeth he choked the sword, his muscles pulsed with anger, and with the strength of his father he slit the beast nearly in half, spilling it’s putrid organs and covering himself in fleshy gore. The monster fell to the ground, unreservedly lifeless. The ranger ripped his blade from the contorted beast and, surveying the battleground, readied himself for the rest of the fight.
The warrior’s mangled body fell limp to the cavern floor, and the bloody barbarian slowly faced off against the two remaining ogres. They came at him gradually, as if intimidated by the barbarian’s unyielding strength. The ranger began to creep towards the barbarian’s side, but just as he did so the true reason for the ogre’s strange delay burst forth. No fewer than five more ogres rushed to aide their comrades in battle, their faces distorted with cruel and repulsive sneers. The ranger was not about to charge in and die for some strange merchants and a barbarian he hardly knew. Instead, he quietly snuck out of the cave and fled into the comfort and familiarity of the surrounding wilderness.
The ranger heard the uproarious shouts of the ogres along with the muffled shrieks of the dying barbarian, but he felt no sympathy for the foolishly brave man. Tuning out the now distant commotion, the ranger examined his wounds. Thankfully, his shoulder wasn’t broken, only badly bruised. It would heal.
Utterly exhausted and yet still covered in the grotesque filth of the dead ogre, the ranger slumped to the ground near a large, dying tree. He closed his eyes, and there, battered but still very much alive, the ranger slept.
It Burns! It Buurrrnnnnnssss!
It hasn't explicitly been asked, but the searing question on everyone's mind: Who is Kilminsk?
Monday, August 28, 2006
The Festival of the Blood Moon
Tomorrow is the 11th of Coldeven, a day known in shadowy circles throughout the Flanaess as the Festival of the Blood Moon. The day is sacred to worshipers of Nerull and a handful of other lawful-evil cults (including Incabulous, Pyremius, Syrul, Vecna, and dread Tharizdun). It is said that the conduits for communicating with these deities are at their most powerful.This grim festival technically begins at sundown on the 10th and ends on the evening of the 12th. It commemorates the blood-red moon which appeared all over the Flanaess on this day in 294 CY. (Some sages postulated common volcanism as the source, but proponents dwindled quickly after several sages disappeared under mysterious circumstances.) Elaborate ceremonies are held in fell and shadowy places, many of which are grisly and unpleasant in the extreme, involving ritualistic human sacrifice. This festival is now honoured in Iuz' lands as well since the Wars, in mocking celebration of the surprise attacks which decimated the Heirarchs of Molag in 583 CY.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
system shock
I've been thinking of instituting a new houserule. Right now, when PCs die, they lose a level, which is the official rule. But, sometimes a character's death can lead to long delays in the middle of a game. And sometimes, its by accident. I don't go into combat planning that certain people die. Well, most of the time. So, I give you the System Shock check.
System Shock (Ex): When you take lethal damage, reaching -10HP, you do not die automatically. Upon reaching -10hp, you roll a Fortitude save, vs. DC 20. If you make the save, damage that would have brought you to -10 or less instead brings you to -9. If you fail the save, you die from lethal damage.
So, what do you guys think about this?
System Shock (Ex): When you take lethal damage, reaching -10HP, you do not die automatically. Upon reaching -10hp, you roll a Fortitude save, vs. DC 20. If you make the save, damage that would have brought you to -10 or less instead brings you to -9. If you fail the save, you die from lethal damage.
So, what do you guys think about this?
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Because you asked
I've updated Jeral Writes Home with a new letter to Mom. It's all for you, Degolar. ;)
Monday, August 21, 2006
Of Wannabes and Initiates
A quick note from the editor for our faithful readers. As the four O.G. (Original Goblins) have expanded into other blogs (and parenthood), this forum has floundered a bit for lack of an identity and purpose. While a bit of informal intent was there, a behind-the-scenes decision has finally been made. This blog is now our official Dungeons & Dragons blog. And perhaps the place for stuff too silly to put elsewhere. No hard and fast rules, really, just a general guiding principal. Anyway, expect more D&D related posts and less of everything else.
The biggest change to go with this decision is that we are inviting the rest of our party to join us as contributors. Dungeon Master Scott is the one who actually suggested the idea and has been the first new Goblin. I see now that new guy (Hadrian’s replacement since he has moved away for law school) Gobula has also just accepted the invitation. We’ll have to see about Torias and Aerin, neither of whom has much of a blogging history (that I know of), but I would think the temptation to join the Goblin fraternity would be too strong too resist.
And let me extend this official welcome to you, newbs. Feel free to leave an introductory post of some sort if you feel so moved.
The biggest change to go with this decision is that we are inviting the rest of our party to join us as contributors. Dungeon Master Scott is the one who actually suggested the idea and has been the first new Goblin. I see now that new guy (Hadrian’s replacement since he has moved away for law school) Gobula has also just accepted the invitation. We’ll have to see about Torias and Aerin, neither of whom has much of a blogging history (that I know of), but I would think the temptation to join the Goblin fraternity would be too strong too resist.
And let me extend this official welcome to you, newbs. Feel free to leave an introductory post of some sort if you feel so moved.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Not Completely Dead... with the DM's Permission of course.
The warriors rode first, guiding their horses carefully along the icy mountain trail, huddled up tightly against the cold winter wind. Behind them came the wizards and the priests, also bundled in warm winter clothing, their imperial finery buried beneath layer upon layer of thick furs and padded garments. Two, obviously more important than the rest, rode in luxurious sedan-chairs carried by hulking half-orc porters. More servants followed on foot, burdened heavily with the party’s cargo. And finally bringing up the rear, another contingent of warriors, periodically stopping to listen carefully and watch the road behind.
The road crested a small rise and there before them lay an immense ravine spanned by an ancient bridge of dwarvish construction, an enormous gaping hole scarring its center. The warrior at the head of the column called a halt and sent word back the line. Within a few moments the two sedan chairs arrived at the front of the column and their passengers disembarked. The priest was a short and slender man, dark, with devious eyes. “Praise be to Wee Jas, it is exactly as we have seen.”
“Yes,” replied the mage, a tall, fat man, with a stern and imposing visage, “this is certainly the place.”
The priest shouted abruptly at the porters “Spread out, he will be here somewhere! Quickly!”
The servants unburdened themselves of their packs and the sedan chairs and fanned out over the snow covered ground along the ravine’s edge. In just a few moments a shout caught the priest’s attention, and he and the mage rushed to its source. A band of servants was already gathering, digging furiously at the frozen ground, tossing aside a small pile of rocks. Soon their prey was revealed: the corpse of warrior, clad in a mithril breastplate and the tattered remants of a familiar tabard.
“Well,” snickered the mage “it seems we have found our traitor.”
“Indeed,” replied the priest “and he will soon learn a most painful lesson. Not even death will save you from the Sultan’s justice.”
The road crested a small rise and there before them lay an immense ravine spanned by an ancient bridge of dwarvish construction, an enormous gaping hole scarring its center. The warrior at the head of the column called a halt and sent word back the line. Within a few moments the two sedan chairs arrived at the front of the column and their passengers disembarked. The priest was a short and slender man, dark, with devious eyes. “Praise be to Wee Jas, it is exactly as we have seen.”
“Yes,” replied the mage, a tall, fat man, with a stern and imposing visage, “this is certainly the place.”
The priest shouted abruptly at the porters “Spread out, he will be here somewhere! Quickly!”
The servants unburdened themselves of their packs and the sedan chairs and fanned out over the snow covered ground along the ravine’s edge. In just a few moments a shout caught the priest’s attention, and he and the mage rushed to its source. A band of servants was already gathering, digging furiously at the frozen ground, tossing aside a small pile of rocks. Soon their prey was revealed: the corpse of warrior, clad in a mithril breastplate and the tattered remants of a familiar tabard.
“Well,” snickered the mage “it seems we have found our traitor.”
“Indeed,” replied the priest “and he will soon learn a most painful lesson. Not even death will save you from the Sultan’s justice.”
Excerpts from the Journal of Galvoran
. . . wandered aimlessly through the woods for far too long with no real idea where we needed to go and only a vague idea of our goal. It’s not what I envisioned “adventuring” to be. I expected much more action and sense of purpose, not those endless hours of boredom. No maps to guide us or scrolls to consult; we didn’t even stop to research Philidor on our way out of town. Not at all what I am used to with my studies and learning. There I have always had the resources to puzzle out even the most complex problems, have known that if I persevered there would always be an answer. In this case it was as though everyone was blind with no apparent method to follow. I felt completely out of my element.
And for once I began to see the limitations of my chosen specialization. Fire is a beautiful, amazing force and I couldn’t see myself pursuing any other mastery, but I was left in this situation without the option of using my magic to divine anything helpful. I feel like a fool for taking so long to even realize that the spheres we latched onto for lack of a better plan were divination tools themselves. Finally I did, though, and that gave us a bit of direction.
Although I obviously have much knowledge yet to gain, I have to wonder how this odd assortment of ruffians managed to accomplish anything in the past without someone learned like myself to guide them. When the spheres led us to the clearing, it was I who had the insight to check the pillar for inscriptions, I who was able to decipher the inscription we found, I who riddled out a meaning from it, and I who had the ability to use the magic that would be the trigger . . .
----------
. . . Ye gods! It is one thing to read about the size and power of a roc, another to actually confront it. And to have it head directly to me, seize me out of all the others, and carry me helplessly away! I am ashamed to admit this, but I realized later that I wet myself. Thank Boccob my wits did not entirely abandon me, for I was able to use my pyrotechny to make the creature regret it’s chosen prey. It flung me into the ravine, thinking to be rid of me. Again my foresight paid off, for the most recent spell I have added to my collection is one that enables me to fly for a period and I had already cast it upon myself. I found a safe place to catch my breath for a second, then reentered the fray to help my companions confront the beast.
That is when I had my second shock of the encounter. It seems with great size, strength, and fortitude comes the ability to shrug off some magics. If only I had been aware of this previously. But, alas, I wasn’t. I flung spell after spell against it, only to see them fizzle with no effect. I had even prepared a scroll that would have taken away its ability to fly. I wasted it needlessly and will now have to spend hours recreating it once I am back in a more civilized setting.
Eventually I was reduced to a more supportive role, empowering members of the party instead of attacking directly. Even so, the beast returned to attack me once again. Luckily it again tried to drop me to my doom and I was able to reach the party healer. That’s a magic I would dearly love to learn! Others were not as fortunate as myself, however. We ultimately succeeded in pestering the foul creature to death, but not before it shredded the life from the dark-skinned westerner and cast his limp body at our feet. While quite unnecessary at that point, it was a poignant reminder that this is not a game we are playing at, that I have finally left the library and laboratory behind . . .
And for once I began to see the limitations of my chosen specialization. Fire is a beautiful, amazing force and I couldn’t see myself pursuing any other mastery, but I was left in this situation without the option of using my magic to divine anything helpful. I feel like a fool for taking so long to even realize that the spheres we latched onto for lack of a better plan were divination tools themselves. Finally I did, though, and that gave us a bit of direction.
Although I obviously have much knowledge yet to gain, I have to wonder how this odd assortment of ruffians managed to accomplish anything in the past without someone learned like myself to guide them. When the spheres led us to the clearing, it was I who had the insight to check the pillar for inscriptions, I who was able to decipher the inscription we found, I who riddled out a meaning from it, and I who had the ability to use the magic that would be the trigger . . .
----------
. . . Ye gods! It is one thing to read about the size and power of a roc, another to actually confront it. And to have it head directly to me, seize me out of all the others, and carry me helplessly away! I am ashamed to admit this, but I realized later that I wet myself. Thank Boccob my wits did not entirely abandon me, for I was able to use my pyrotechny to make the creature regret it’s chosen prey. It flung me into the ravine, thinking to be rid of me. Again my foresight paid off, for the most recent spell I have added to my collection is one that enables me to fly for a period and I had already cast it upon myself. I found a safe place to catch my breath for a second, then reentered the fray to help my companions confront the beast.
That is when I had my second shock of the encounter. It seems with great size, strength, and fortitude comes the ability to shrug off some magics. If only I had been aware of this previously. But, alas, I wasn’t. I flung spell after spell against it, only to see them fizzle with no effect. I had even prepared a scroll that would have taken away its ability to fly. I wasted it needlessly and will now have to spend hours recreating it once I am back in a more civilized setting.
Eventually I was reduced to a more supportive role, empowering members of the party instead of attacking directly. Even so, the beast returned to attack me once again. Luckily it again tried to drop me to my doom and I was able to reach the party healer. That’s a magic I would dearly love to learn! Others were not as fortunate as myself, however. We ultimately succeeded in pestering the foul creature to death, but not before it shredded the life from the dark-skinned westerner and cast his limp body at our feet. While quite unnecessary at that point, it was a poignant reminder that this is not a game we are playing at, that I have finally left the library and laboratory behind . . .
Thursday, August 17, 2006
How many planets are there, again?
Apparently, soon to be twelve, with (likely) hundreds more to follow in the next few years. Read about it and why Pluto being a planet could be a bad thing.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
The End of an Era...
I think Gobula will appreciate this more than most:
Amazingly, this is just one example of an entire genre that has developed. Some of these videos are more serious than others. This one hits exactly the right tone I think.
Amazingly, this is just one example of an entire genre that has developed. Some of these videos are more serious than others. This one hits exactly the right tone I think.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
A very strange question
What is a good name for a poltergeist? Yes I know, I know. Odd even for me, but I am serious. Help me come up with a good name. I am writing a book and need a good name for a character. I will choose the best and put it in.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Another Video
Gobula posted recently about the temptation of buying a certain item, which made me think of something I saw recently. This is an instant classic. Watch it, laugh, watch it again, and hope for an episode 2.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Sunday, 2:10 a.m. ...........
Must... not.... re-activate..... World..... of ..... Warcraft........ account....................... Must..... be....... strong......................................
Help me Tom Cruise!
Ummm... for that last reference, watch this.
Help me Tom Cruise!
Ummm... for that last reference, watch this.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Well, it's not as bad as I suspected. . .
| You Are 84% Cynical |
 Your cynicism borders on paranoia. Worry less. You're out to get the world as much as it's out to get you. |
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
What Happened to Hadrian's Foot?
Since none of my other information sources have provided an answer . . .
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Too True (Hilariously So)
Admit it, fellow geeks. Even though you don't mind sharing--and even flaunting--your D&D-type interests in some settings, there are certain people and situations in which you keep them to yourself. But no matter how much you segment your life, there is one person you ultimately can't hide from: you're significant other. The Girl in Black has just brought to my attention this excellent post titled, "Your Husband Has Just Bought Himself a Complete Set of Dungeons and Dragons Handbooks – A Survival Guide for the Smart Wife."
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Evangelism
A while back, Wizards of the Coast decided a good money-making scheme would be offering basic Dungeons & Dragons kits to libraries for free. Let the librarians find and train young, new players who will eventually seek out and buy books, miniatures, dice, etc. And while I don't like that commercial aspect to the enterprise, I requested a kit and put programs on the calendar this summer. Last night we had our first "Learn to Play Dungeons & Dragons" program. Highly successful. Five younger teens showed up and had a good time. The kit comes with pre-made characters and simplified rules, but it still took a bit to orient everyone to the game. Eventually we got started and they all survived the first encounter. A bit of learning occurred after that when one guy tried to pocket all the treasure. A fight ensued and the party ended up killing each other off. I explained that's why groups (characters and players) generally have more fun (and last longer) when they cooperate, and we rewound and continued playing until our time was up. At the end I explained the library can't support exclusive programs, which an ongoing campaign with me as Dungeon Master would necessarily become, so my part was done. When I offered the use of the kit as a reference resource and mentioned our study rooms, though, they immediately exchanged contact information and began planning to get together again. One mom was astounded at the end that her son was socializing so well in light of his Asperger Syndrome (which I never would have guessed). I had to work a 10 hour day and stay until close instead of my usual 5:15 for a Tuesday, but it was well worth it. Who else gets payed for playing D&D for three hours?
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Wow.
Gobula recently posted some WoW screenshots, inspiring me to do the same, whether you're interested or not. Here are a few choice ones:
Kaland (Hadrian's Azeroth alter-ego) arriving in Auberne on a dark and stormy night.
Taking the Gryphon to Booty Bay, and a rare sighting of the Goblin zeppelin.
Taunting the enemy in Westfall.
In front of the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind City.
Kaland (Hadrian's Azeroth alter-ego) arriving in Auberne on a dark and stormy night.
Taking the Gryphon to Booty Bay, and a rare sighting of the Goblin zeppelin.
Taunting the enemy in Westfall.
In front of the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind City.
Monday, May 01, 2006
The Last to Go
Once upon a time Hadrian had the idea to start a blog with his D&D friends. Kelly and Scott were already members of the blogosphere, so he invited the rest of the group at the time to join this one. He named the blog after a shared D&D experience that had become a running joke and decided we would use our character names as aliases. It's interesting the way a simple decision like that can shape your future. I had created my character as something fun to try out in the game and didn't necessarily identify with him all that much, yet over time I have become Degolar and answer to that name without a second thought. Anyway, as we've all gotten more into our blogging the others have branched out. Peanut seems to be growing to an extent that he now dominates Leelu and Lummox's online life and Hadrian enjoys the consistently themed content at his other blog. The Cringing Goblin has generally gone from a shared endeavor to more of a solo one. It doesn't seem right for one person to dominate what should be a team effort, so I've finally decided to go off and start my own thing. As I'm sure you've noticed, I've pretty much posted whatever has been on my mind from lots of different realms and plan to continue doing so. That means it will be hard to determine whether a thought belongs more on this blog or the new one since I don't really plan on having a controlling theme for either. I'm guessing that most of my activity from now on will be at the new place, but I don't want to completely abandon this effort either. It's been too much fun. But, anyway, give it a look if you're interested.
Well I Guess I'm One
The MoJoBlog has been going through some of our government documents on how to spot a terrorist. Here are some of the characteristics of terrorists listed in the Texas Department of Public Safety Manual:
- Focused and committed
- Team-oriented and disciplined
- Familiar with their physical environments
- Employ a variety of vehicles and communicate by cell phone, email, or text messaging
- Try not to draw attention to themselves
- Look like students, tourists, or businesspersons
- Travel in a mixed group of men, women, and children
- Avoid confrontations with law enforcement
- Use disguises or undergo cosmetic surgery
Sunday, April 30, 2006
The Bard
The thing that makes Dungeons & Dragons really fun is the opportunity to create a character and bring him or her to life through interactions with others--the role-playing aspect that defines it as a Role-Playing Game (RPG). You can try out different motives, personalities, and perspectives and no one is harmed because it's all pretend. You can start with a basic character concept, but it always develops in unexpected ways once the game starts. So a while back when I wrote in my review of Neil Gaiman's Anansi Boys that some of his descriptions reminded me of Degolar, I meant the character and not myself. Some of the things described were characteristics I had in mind from the start and some just developed, but as I was reading Gaiman's descriptions of his characters (Anansi and his son, Spider) I thought he could just as easily be describing Degolar. I listened to the audio CD earlier because I could get it quicker, but now my turn has finally come up for the book and I can go back and find those descriptions to share.
In D&D, bards get their magic from their music and stories; that’s how they cast their spells, by performing. This book starts:
In D&D, every character has an alignment, where they fall on a continuum grid between good and evil, law and chaos. Degolar is chaotic neutral. He’s definitely about his freedom and independence and isn’t too concerned with right or wrong. But he’s never intentionally harmful. Kind of like Anansi:
In D&D, bards get their magic from their music and stories; that’s how they cast their spells, by performing. This book starts:
It begins, as most things begin, with a song. . . . That was how the world was made, how the void was divided, how the lands and the stars and the dreams and the little gods and the animals, how all of them came into the world. They were sung. . . . Songs remain. They last. The right song can turn and emperor into a laughingstock, can bring down dynasties. A song can last long after the events and the people in it are dust and dreams and gone. That’s the power of songs.This book is about Anansi, or, more correctly, Anansi’s sons. Anansi is an old god from Africa, the figure who owns all the stories. Anansi is the spider.
Stories are like spiders, with all they long legs, and stories are like spiderwebs, which man gets himself all tangled up in but which look so pretty when you see them under a leaf in the morning dew, and in the elegant way that they connect to one another, each to each.Our main character in the book is Fat Charlie Nancy. Charles, really, but his dad started calling him Fat Charlie as a boy and the name stuck even though he only went through a short period of being a bit overweight (the power of the storyteller to name things). After the death of his father, Fat Charlie learns he has a brother he never knew of, named Spider. And according to Spider, there’s only one way to grieve: with wine, women, and song. Degolar would agree.
In D&D, every character has an alignment, where they fall on a continuum grid between good and evil, law and chaos. Degolar is chaotic neutral. He’s definitely about his freedom and independence and isn’t too concerned with right or wrong. But he’s never intentionally harmful. Kind of like Anansi:
He is greedy, of course, and lustful, and tricky, and full of lies. And he is good-hearted, and lucky, and sometimes even honest. Sometimes he is good, sometimes he is bad. He is never evil. Mostly, you are on Anansi’s side. This is because Anansi owns all the stories.Degolar is also a wanderer. He doesn't put down roots, just goes around looking for adventure and something fun to do. Kind of like Spider:
[Spider] had resolved to investigate the matter the next time that he could in any way be bothered to do so, unless something more interesting distracted him or he forgot. . . . His plans . . . were fairly simple and could until now have been summarized more or less as: (a) go somewhere; (b) enjoy yourself; and (c) leave before you get bored.And I'll remind you one more time that the following description is only accurate in terms of Degolar the D&D character, not Degolar the blogger.
Spider . . . regarded women as more or less interchangeable. You didn’t give them a real name, or an address that would work for longer than a week, of course, or anything more than a disposable cell-phone number. Women were fun, and decorative, and terrific accessories, but there would always be more of them; like bowls of goulash coming along a conveyor belt, when you were done with one, you simply picked up the next, and spooned in your sour cream.So, anyway, I don't know what that says about me, but now you know a bit more about the character from our game whose name I borrowed to create my online identity.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
A Different View of Kansas in the NY Times
Last May, my wife and I were in Liberal for the high school graduation of a former student. Her family was not able to get work in the U.S, but they were able to move her up with an aunt in KC. So she left them behind as a young teen and went to a new world. After a few years she fell for a guy and decided to get married. She followed him to Liberal to live with him and his family. Since she had no one else, we decided to support her at her graduation.
This story is about the large and still growing Hispanic community in Liberal and all of southwest Kansas.
For Latinos in the Midwest, a Time to Be Heard
"By 2000, the Latino share of the population of this town of 20,000 had quadrupled to 43 percent from 10 percent in 1980, reflecting a pattern throughout southwest Kansas.
"'They came to fill important jobs in the community and work, and people in our world respect hard workers,' said Donald D. Stull, an anthropologist at the University of Kansas who has studied the demographic changes across the region.
"Liberal got its name, the story goes, from the generosity of its founder, S. S. Rogers, who would give out water to settlers passing through. That welcoming spirit pervaded many prairie towns and continues to some extent today.
"Still, many people here who are not Hispanic take offense at the waving of foreign flags — during the rally here a few carloads of young white men drove past pointedly brandishing American flags — and chafe at hearing so much Spanish spoken on the streets. . . . "
This story is about the large and still growing Hispanic community in Liberal and all of southwest Kansas.
For Latinos in the Midwest, a Time to Be Heard
"By 2000, the Latino share of the population of this town of 20,000 had quadrupled to 43 percent from 10 percent in 1980, reflecting a pattern throughout southwest Kansas.
"'They came to fill important jobs in the community and work, and people in our world respect hard workers,' said Donald D. Stull, an anthropologist at the University of Kansas who has studied the demographic changes across the region.
"Liberal got its name, the story goes, from the generosity of its founder, S. S. Rogers, who would give out water to settlers passing through. That welcoming spirit pervaded many prairie towns and continues to some extent today.
"Still, many people here who are not Hispanic take offense at the waving of foreign flags — during the rally here a few carloads of young white men drove past pointedly brandishing American flags — and chafe at hearing so much Spanish spoken on the streets. . . . "
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
A-d-d-i-c-t-i-o-n
n. The condition of being habitually or compulsively occupied with or involved in something.
Hmmm...... As you may have noticed of late my posting has been, shall we say... sporadic? And it's not because I've been writing the proverbial "Great American Novel", or even reading it for that matter; it's been because of my compulsive need to escape reality, and escape it in a particular way (though apparently I've been improving my critical thinking skills all the while). Ahem...: World of Warcraft, Battlefield 2, Sim City 4 (Rush Hour), Painkiller, MVP Baseball 2005 (2006 fan-mod), NASCAR Sim Racing,.... I probably could go on. I am addicted to computer games. I submit for your consideration the following evidence:
1. I had the thought "maybe I need to stop playing games, they're taking up way too much of my time."
2. That thought was immediately followed by a flash of panic "But, but, but,... what will I do if I'm not playing video games, and I just bought this new one, and just downloaded that cool mod, and, and, and...."
3. That thought was immediately followed by a third: "You just panicked at the thought of not playing games. Dude, you are so addicted."
4. I bought a NASCAR game! If that is not indicative of a problem I don't know what is. I don't even like NASCAR.
5. Often I find myself playing for hours on end, despite the fact that I am not enjoying it.
6. Necessary tasks do not get done. Bills are left unpaid, kitchens uncleaned, books unread. All because I need to kill trolls in Stranglethorn Vale, or finish a homestand against the White Sox, or take Mashtuur City one more time. Sleep, what is this sleep you speak of?
So, long story short, I feel that I need to stop this compulsive behavior and consciously use my time for things that are truly important to me. And once again, the very fact that I'm finding this difficult to do is evidence of how important it is that I do it. So, that's that.
Hmmm...... As you may have noticed of late my posting has been, shall we say... sporadic? And it's not because I've been writing the proverbial "Great American Novel", or even reading it for that matter; it's been because of my compulsive need to escape reality, and escape it in a particular way (though apparently I've been improving my critical thinking skills all the while). Ahem...: World of Warcraft, Battlefield 2, Sim City 4 (Rush Hour), Painkiller, MVP Baseball 2005 (2006 fan-mod), NASCAR Sim Racing,.... I probably could go on. I am addicted to computer games. I submit for your consideration the following evidence:
1. I had the thought "maybe I need to stop playing games, they're taking up way too much of my time."
2. That thought was immediately followed by a flash of panic "But, but, but,... what will I do if I'm not playing video games, and I just bought this new one, and just downloaded that cool mod, and, and, and...."
3. That thought was immediately followed by a third: "You just panicked at the thought of not playing games. Dude, you are so addicted."
4. I bought a NASCAR game! If that is not indicative of a problem I don't know what is. I don't even like NASCAR.
5. Often I find myself playing for hours on end, despite the fact that I am not enjoying it.
6. Necessary tasks do not get done. Bills are left unpaid, kitchens uncleaned, books unread. All because I need to kill trolls in Stranglethorn Vale, or finish a homestand against the White Sox, or take Mashtuur City one more time. Sleep, what is this sleep you speak of?
So, long story short, I feel that I need to stop this compulsive behavior and consciously use my time for things that are truly important to me. And once again, the very fact that I'm finding this difficult to do is evidence of how important it is that I do it. So, that's that.
Not an Issue of Intent, but of Intensity
"I thought about mistakes I had made in the past. I thought about when things went wrong. And I realized it was never an issue of intent, but of intensity. I was a good guy, recall."I've been reading the book Inexcusable, by Chris Lynch. It's told in a very believable first person voice by a graduating high school senior. A nice guy. Popular with the athletes, but still seen as a "cream puff" by those who know him. A hard worker. From a supportive family. He knows he never means any harm. Yet sometimes he can get carried away. Sometimes he lies to himself about it; sometimes he lies to his readers. But through the whole book he is trying to make sense of something he's done that is finally inexcusable. A very real voice. A very real character. Sometimes I can see myself in him and other times people I've known. I haven't quite finished it yet, but came across that quote today and wanted to share it. I recommend the book, to teen guys and everyone.
If my description is a little too vague, I really like the Booklist review on Amazon.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Freaky, but Cool
Scientists Probe the Use of the Tongue
In their quest to create the super warrior of the future, some military researchers aren't focusing on organs like muscles or hearts. They're looking at tongues.
By routing signals from helmet-mounted cameras, sonar and other equipment through the tongue to the brain, they hope to give elite soldiers superhuman senses similar to owls, snakes and fish. . . .
In their quest to create the super warrior of the future, some military researchers aren't focusing on organs like muscles or hearts. They're looking at tongues.
By routing signals from helmet-mounted cameras, sonar and other equipment through the tongue to the brain, they hope to give elite soldiers superhuman senses similar to owls, snakes and fish. . . .
I Can't Quite Put My Finger On It...
...but it's almost as if something is, I don't know,... missing.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Surely You Have More Important Things to Spend Your Money On
I saw a billboard for this site while driving I-70 tonight. It doesn't matter how many times they try re-spinning it, it's still the same thing.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Well I Liked It
A while back I read The Amulet of Samarkand (The Bartimaeus Trilogy, book 1), by Jonathan Stroud, at Hadrian's enthusiastic suggestion. It was quite good. Not brilliant, but really enjoyable. So when he told me he was disappointed with the second one, I moved it to the bottom of my list. When I was preparing to drive down to Wichita for Tri-Conference a couple of weeks ago I wanted something to listen to. Lo and behold, one of the few selections on CD was The Golem's Eye. I started it on the way back and have been hooked ever since. I finally finished it today and have to say I liked it even better than the first.We're not the only ones to give it mixed reviews. Check Amazon, for instance, and you'll see that it was a starred review in SLJ yet Jennifer Hubert, reviewing for Amazon, said:
Stroud’s second book is far too long and gloomy, focusing more on the priggish Nathaniel and wronged Kitty than the dijinni readers have come to adore. Fans of Jonathan Stroud’s breakout hit, The Amulet of Samarkand, may be a little disappointed to discover that Bartimaeus features so little his second book. While Stroud cleverly uses the class war between the ruling magicians and the disgruntled commoners as a metaphor for current political and social clashes, the text suffers overall from a lack of the dijinni’s famous facetious footnotes. Avid fans are left skimming the slow parts and hoping that when Bartimaeus escapes his servile bonds he will be given more space to make them laugh.That's much the same thing Hadrian said about it. I, on the other hand, found it very engaging. While still enjoying the facetious Bartimaeus, I appreciated the fuller development of their world. Kitty provided an alternate viewpoint to the too often annoying Nathaniel, and the class warfare created a lot of depth. I'm very caught up in these characters now and their part to play in the greater story of Stroud's universe. I can't wait to see what happens to them in the third book. (But first, To Kill a Mockingbird.)
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
In Search of Content
I haven't felt the inspiration to post recently, so to fill in the downtime with something I'll offer a bit of Degolar trivia. For a few years in college I had a personalized license plate that read "PLAID." It was a reference to Spaceballs.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Books Everywhere!
I woke up in a decent mood this morning, but for some reason became very grumpy when I got to work. It’s not the job itself, and in fact I’ve thrived under similarly stressful circumstances before, but things sat wrong with me today. We were already short staffed and I was greeted at the door with the news that someone called in sick. I don’t have any supervisory capacity, but I had the ranking position of the three of us who were present and felt it fell to me to do something about it. So I started working on that while scrambling to get our normal stuff done, only to find I was unnecessarily duplicating work that had already been done. On top of that, we turned our cash register on to find it stuck in error mode and no one I called had the slightest clue what to do about it. Things turned out alright in the end, of course, but I got irrationally irritated in the face of it all. I’m pretty sure I didn’t take it out on anyone, but I certainly didn’t enjoy that couple of hours. I found my first smile of the day soon after we opened. A preschool girl (maybe 3 years old) was joyously bounding around the library singing, “Books! Books! Everywhere Books!” You can’t beat that kind of simple, honest, exuberance.
(Of course, I another factor in my mood swing might be the fact that I’m constantly failing in my attempts to become an ex-caffeine junkie. I hadn’t had any this morning and was feeling achy and stiff and generally kind of yucky, so I broke down and bought a Sunkist right before we opened. I have a feeling it was starting to kick in 15 minutes later when I heard/saw the girl, because now I feel fine. Regardless of the caffeine, though, she cheered me up.)
(Of course, I another factor in my mood swing might be the fact that I’m constantly failing in my attempts to become an ex-caffeine junkie. I hadn’t had any this morning and was feeling achy and stiff and generally kind of yucky, so I broke down and bought a Sunkist right before we opened. I have a feeling it was starting to kick in 15 minutes later when I heard/saw the girl, because now I feel fine. Regardless of the caffeine, though, she cheered me up.)
Isn't It Ironic?
I just wish she could stop trying to pretend there is a logic to her position and admit she has an agenda. Connie Morris, the outspoken conservative on the KS state school board, has made the news again. She pushed and pushed to get new standards passed that require evolution be questioned. Yet she is now meddling in a school in Wichita trying to get a science teacher to take down a depiction of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, who's doctrine contradicts evolution. Saying she wants evolution questioned and then getting mad about someone questioning it in a way that doesn't mesh with her particular dogma is contradictory. It would be so refreshing if she could find the balls to at least be honest and admit all she really wants is to indoctrinate our kids in Christian creationism instead of all the intelligent design bs.
Here's the article, by the way.
Here's the article, by the way.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Barbossa Has Ruled
There be a new link on the sidebar about the next reading selection. Announce your intention to join the fray there.
Bow before me... or don't. Whatever.
So, I was thinking of becoming a god. The problem is that I'm not really that motivated or, for that matter, that good of a person (see the Mr. T thing below). So I'm thinking of being the god of Laziness. Not quite Bacchus (sp?) because he is also the god of wine and stuff. I'm thinking just the god of Laziness in general. Why broaden on the subject? And heck, that kind of fits in with my whole godly demeanor. So, if you want to worship me, go ahead. Crash out on the sofa with a 2 liter of soda and a bag of chips watching whatever comes on the tube. If not? Oh well. Like I care, really. I just don't have the energy.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
I'm Neo
A couple more quizes found by way of That Girl in Black:
This one's a more specific link. Find them in the list on the right.
This one's a more specific link. Find them in the list on the right.
Two Make Not a Group
As I'm sure you know by now, a few brave souls attempted a shared reading and online discussion of Moby-Dick recently. To my knowledge, four finished and three (with escorts) gathered to discuss in person. Captain Barbossa followed that with an invitation to leave the whale behind but establish ourselves as a sort of book club. I've accepted the offer. No others, although I wonder if that may be due to the fact that the discussion has been on the Moby blog and no one else is reading it. So here is the extended invitation with a link to our latest proposals. Respond at either forum and we'll see if anything develops.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Gaming Teaches Real World Skills
This is definitely something that will transfer to a work setting, no?
Scrap looms over Bully game
"As a troublesome schoolboy, you'll laugh and cringe as you stand up to bullies, get picked on by teachers, play pranks on malicious kids, win or lose the girl, and ultimately learn to navigate the obstacles of the fictitious reform school, Bullworth Academy."
Scrap looms over Bully game
"As a troublesome schoolboy, you'll laugh and cringe as you stand up to bullies, get picked on by teachers, play pranks on malicious kids, win or lose the girl, and ultimately learn to navigate the obstacles of the fictitious reform school, Bullworth Academy."
Chronicle of the Conference
Some of the handouts are linked from the master schedule on the website.
The Mountain Top Experience of the MPLA Ghost Ranch Leadership Institute
Kansas is one of twelve states in the regional Mountain Plains Library Association. Jean is a past president and has always encouraged me to apply to their annual leadership institute at a ranch/camp in New Mexico. I’m definitely there for a week in the mountains and what I’m sure will be an excellent personal growth experience. I’m just not sure I’m interested in being a manager-type. Lots of responsibility, not as much fun, get all the crap, not much more pay--when compared to what I do now. Still, I suppose leader and manager are not exactly the same thing, and the personal testimonials at this session were enthusiastic. I might motivate to do the paperwork this year.
Research-Based Strategies for Teaching Early Literacy Skills to Children Birth to Five Years Old
Similar enough to the Every Child Ready to Read initiative that I would guess she was working from the same source material. We’ll be giving our own presentations on this soon enough, so it was good to hear it from another perspective. The main value of storytime is not that it teaches kids to read, but that it teaches the parents what they can do on a daily basis to help their kids learn to read. This was about not only shifting our emphasis in storytime to include the adults more but how to give presentations to just adults. Reinforces what we’ve been getting and was good.
Connecting Kansas Kids with Great Books: 2006-2007 William Allen White Awards Master Lists
Good booktalks, which is the main reason I went. I now have a bit of an idea about each book on the list and will be better able to help kids who are looking for them. But I sure wouldn’t want to read most of them. My first year I made it a goal to read everything on the list, but gave up after I got tired of being depressed by the seriousness of them all. This year looks no better. At least two-thirds are historical fiction, with the majority of the rest being about minority characters. They all sound like excellent books, but reading one after another gets awfully boring. How about some variety on the list? Something with contemporary characters that kids in Kansas can relate to? Not everyone reads historical fiction, you know, even if they do want to broaden their perspective or learn something from the book. Blech.
YA Best of the Year Book Talks
Good booktalks. I feel pretty up on things after hearing this, having either read or at least been aware of most of what they mentioned. My reading tastes do run toward YA (Young Adult, or teen, for our non-librarian readers), after all.
General Session: Guest Speaker Alan November
This is the national bigwig they brought in special, and he was very good. He was coming from an educational background/perspective, but broadened his topic to include everyone. His main focus was on the Internet and how to teach kids to be critical users. How to make them aware of things like martinlutherking.org (pops up third on the list in a google search) is owned by a white supremacist group and how you find that information with easyWHO?s. All about google bombing and how to find how much is being paid to land at the top of searches. Commands to find who is linking to sites. Good stuff to refresh and expand my knowledge. His goal is that students become more active in their learning by building a social network of human resources around the world to interact with and become producers of knowledge themselves instead of passive receptors. Use things like Skype to connect with international classrooms and compare perspectives or practice languages or the like. Take more pride in work since it will be publicly posted on a blog. He was overflowing with ideas and directed us to his website for more. Good stuff.
Alan November Breakout Session
(Instead of Wonderful and New Picture Books for Story Times and Programs or Prizes: What Keeps Kids Reading?)
Much of what I wrote about Alan November actually came from the two hours that followed during his breakout session. I enjoyed his general session enough that I cancelled my plans and went to this instead. I grabbed the handouts of the others to read, though.
Runescape Games in Libraries
Runescape is the most popular free MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game). (Check out Hadrian’s recent enjoyment of World of Warcraft for a not so free one.) As such, we see many players at the library, many teens and preteens who don’t have money, computer access, or such on their own and use our resources. Some of them really get into it. This was a good session because one of the presenters logged on and showed us some game play, along with a detailed handout with a game explanation, glossary, and such. And he’s trying to get information from libraries and other groups who are interested in forming teams and challenging each other. Check out his website about it.
Amazing Space
I don’t think I’d ever describe myself as feng shui, but I do believe atmosphere and environment are very important. I’ve moved furniture and decorated each place I’ve worked. This two hour session sounded intriguing. I stayed for the first hour to hear the architect that has worked on many libraries in Kansas for the past 30 years. He had/has a lot of good ideas and it looks like he does good work. Not the most exciting presenter, though. He had lots of slides of floor plans and photos of the work he’s done. I couldn’t figure out an organizational scheme to the presentation, though, or a list of general ideas to take back to my location; it was just a random presentation of his past work. The second hour was going to be two libraries sharing their particular experiences in detail, but I skipped out.
William Allen White Children’s Book Awards
I was going to see the fashion show or the butt kicking librarians, but ran into T and joined her (as well as MacDaddy and EDH) to raise some ruckus at the WAW feedback session. My beef was none of the books have boy appeal and the others attacked the issue from other angles. They were courteous and receptive, but didn’t give any indication anything might change. Their recommendation to me was to send in my suggestions for the committee to read, but after talking to them I’m quite sure their idea of “quality literature” differs enough from mine that my suggestions would never get selected for the final list.
Those are the sessions I attended. I was planning on getting into the Angela Johnson author luncheon if I could, but she had to cancel after her mother’s surgery didn’t go so well. Instead I went with Scott and Kelly to see Jean’s new branch and ended up having lunch with her.
Aside from the formal sessions, the other benefit of going to a conference like this is making new connections and social networking. I branched out a little bit, but have to admit to sticking to people I already knew much more so. We had a rather large contingent, after all. There was much revelry each night and I became acquainted with my colleagues in new ways, so in a sense I did get something out of the networking, I’m just not sure how much of it can ever be discussed in a work setting. Very fun, though.
The Mountain Top Experience of the MPLA Ghost Ranch Leadership Institute
Kansas is one of twelve states in the regional Mountain Plains Library Association. Jean is a past president and has always encouraged me to apply to their annual leadership institute at a ranch/camp in New Mexico. I’m definitely there for a week in the mountains and what I’m sure will be an excellent personal growth experience. I’m just not sure I’m interested in being a manager-type. Lots of responsibility, not as much fun, get all the crap, not much more pay--when compared to what I do now. Still, I suppose leader and manager are not exactly the same thing, and the personal testimonials at this session were enthusiastic. I might motivate to do the paperwork this year.
Research-Based Strategies for Teaching Early Literacy Skills to Children Birth to Five Years Old
Similar enough to the Every Child Ready to Read initiative that I would guess she was working from the same source material. We’ll be giving our own presentations on this soon enough, so it was good to hear it from another perspective. The main value of storytime is not that it teaches kids to read, but that it teaches the parents what they can do on a daily basis to help their kids learn to read. This was about not only shifting our emphasis in storytime to include the adults more but how to give presentations to just adults. Reinforces what we’ve been getting and was good.
Connecting Kansas Kids with Great Books: 2006-2007 William Allen White Awards Master Lists
Good booktalks, which is the main reason I went. I now have a bit of an idea about each book on the list and will be better able to help kids who are looking for them. But I sure wouldn’t want to read most of them. My first year I made it a goal to read everything on the list, but gave up after I got tired of being depressed by the seriousness of them all. This year looks no better. At least two-thirds are historical fiction, with the majority of the rest being about minority characters. They all sound like excellent books, but reading one after another gets awfully boring. How about some variety on the list? Something with contemporary characters that kids in Kansas can relate to? Not everyone reads historical fiction, you know, even if they do want to broaden their perspective or learn something from the book. Blech.
YA Best of the Year Book Talks
Good booktalks. I feel pretty up on things after hearing this, having either read or at least been aware of most of what they mentioned. My reading tastes do run toward YA (Young Adult, or teen, for our non-librarian readers), after all.
General Session: Guest Speaker Alan November
This is the national bigwig they brought in special, and he was very good. He was coming from an educational background/perspective, but broadened his topic to include everyone. His main focus was on the Internet and how to teach kids to be critical users. How to make them aware of things like martinlutherking.org (pops up third on the list in a google search) is owned by a white supremacist group and how you find that information with easyWHO?s. All about google bombing and how to find how much is being paid to land at the top of searches. Commands to find who is linking to sites. Good stuff to refresh and expand my knowledge. His goal is that students become more active in their learning by building a social network of human resources around the world to interact with and become producers of knowledge themselves instead of passive receptors. Use things like Skype to connect with international classrooms and compare perspectives or practice languages or the like. Take more pride in work since it will be publicly posted on a blog. He was overflowing with ideas and directed us to his website for more. Good stuff.
Alan November Breakout Session
(Instead of Wonderful and New Picture Books for Story Times and Programs or Prizes: What Keeps Kids Reading?)
Much of what I wrote about Alan November actually came from the two hours that followed during his breakout session. I enjoyed his general session enough that I cancelled my plans and went to this instead. I grabbed the handouts of the others to read, though.
Runescape Games in Libraries
Runescape is the most popular free MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game). (Check out Hadrian’s recent enjoyment of World of Warcraft for a not so free one.) As such, we see many players at the library, many teens and preteens who don’t have money, computer access, or such on their own and use our resources. Some of them really get into it. This was a good session because one of the presenters logged on and showed us some game play, along with a detailed handout with a game explanation, glossary, and such. And he’s trying to get information from libraries and other groups who are interested in forming teams and challenging each other. Check out his website about it.
Amazing Space
I don’t think I’d ever describe myself as feng shui, but I do believe atmosphere and environment are very important. I’ve moved furniture and decorated each place I’ve worked. This two hour session sounded intriguing. I stayed for the first hour to hear the architect that has worked on many libraries in Kansas for the past 30 years. He had/has a lot of good ideas and it looks like he does good work. Not the most exciting presenter, though. He had lots of slides of floor plans and photos of the work he’s done. I couldn’t figure out an organizational scheme to the presentation, though, or a list of general ideas to take back to my location; it was just a random presentation of his past work. The second hour was going to be two libraries sharing their particular experiences in detail, but I skipped out.
William Allen White Children’s Book Awards
I was going to see the fashion show or the butt kicking librarians, but ran into T and joined her (as well as MacDaddy and EDH) to raise some ruckus at the WAW feedback session. My beef was none of the books have boy appeal and the others attacked the issue from other angles. They were courteous and receptive, but didn’t give any indication anything might change. Their recommendation to me was to send in my suggestions for the committee to read, but after talking to them I’m quite sure their idea of “quality literature” differs enough from mine that my suggestions would never get selected for the final list.
Those are the sessions I attended. I was planning on getting into the Angela Johnson author luncheon if I could, but she had to cancel after her mother’s surgery didn’t go so well. Instead I went with Scott and Kelly to see Jean’s new branch and ended up having lunch with her.
Aside from the formal sessions, the other benefit of going to a conference like this is making new connections and social networking. I branched out a little bit, but have to admit to sticking to people I already knew much more so. We had a rather large contingent, after all. There was much revelry each night and I became acquainted with my colleagues in new ways, so in a sense I did get something out of the networking, I’m just not sure how much of it can ever be discussed in a work setting. Very fun, though.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Random Thoughts
. . . from Tri-Conference:
Remember when I wrote about being excited to go to a conference where I knew people? First impression from last night: librarians like to party. Hard.
Wichita has made nice use of its rivers. Made for a very pleasant run this morning, following the trails along the Arkansas (ar-KANZ-ass) River. KC could learn something.
I might actually get around to applying for Ghost Ranch this year, the week-long MPLA (Mountain Plains Library Association) leadership camp in New Mexico each fall.
Storytime is fun, but it's really about teaching the parents what to do with their kids on a daily basis.
The people who select the books for the William Allen White award don't seem to know a thing about kids or what kids find appealing in a book. The most boring sounding selections ever.
Looking for Alaska is an awesome book.
We work for a very privileged library system.
Remember when I wrote about being excited to go to a conference where I knew people? First impression from last night: librarians like to party. Hard.
Wichita has made nice use of its rivers. Made for a very pleasant run this morning, following the trails along the Arkansas (ar-KANZ-ass) River. KC could learn something.
I might actually get around to applying for Ghost Ranch this year, the week-long MPLA (Mountain Plains Library Association) leadership camp in New Mexico each fall.
Storytime is fun, but it's really about teaching the parents what to do with their kids on a daily basis.
The people who select the books for the William Allen White award don't seem to know a thing about kids or what kids find appealing in a book. The most boring sounding selections ever.
Looking for Alaska is an awesome book.
We work for a very privileged library system.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
If You Haven't Been There Yet...
The internet is just full of sites hosting funny videos. Tonight I ran across another while searching for the now famous SNL video "Lazy Sunday". So, check out Milk and Cookies, especially this one. Is it wrong that that last video turned me on a little?
Drained, but the End is in Sight.
The funding is lined up, so that worry is out of the way, and now I'm simply marking time until that blessed day-- sometime in July-- when I leave the JOB and head back to school. I cannot tell you how much I'm looking forward to that day. Every day now, I come home from work just a little bit more drained by the experience. I leave with zero energy and usually quite agitated. It's not that my job is objectively so bad, it's not. There are worse jobs-- a fact I'm reminded of every time I drive by Liberty Tax Service and see the poor schlub who has to wear the Uncle Sam or Statue of Liberty costume out on the street corner begging for business. Simply put, the job just doesn't agree with me. It doesn't fit. It just isn't me. All the hours spent at my job feel like time that has been stolen from my life (bought actually, for way too low a price). It presents me with a stark dichotomy between living and working. Between my life, and the time I sell to my employer. It is 40 hours a week that I find difficult to integrate into the rest of my existence. And that, my friends, is no way to live.
But law school is just around the corner now. I hesitate to say that, fearful that somehow I might jinx it, might screw up the opportunity, and be stuck in my present situation. Frankly, I don't think my sanity could survive that. I know that law school is going to be a lot of work-- more than a full time job I'm told, but that doesn't bother me, because I think I'll be able to find something there that I haven't had since I last left the hallowed halls of grad school: integration. In college, and then again in grad school, I always felt that my life was of a piece. No matter how much I dreaded a particular class or a particular assignment, no matter how much work I had to get done, whether I was having a good day or bad, none of it ever felt like time that wasn't mine, a part of a life that wasn't me. Everything fit. I think I'm going to get that feeling back in a few months. I'm looking forward to it.
But law school is just around the corner now. I hesitate to say that, fearful that somehow I might jinx it, might screw up the opportunity, and be stuck in my present situation. Frankly, I don't think my sanity could survive that. I know that law school is going to be a lot of work-- more than a full time job I'm told, but that doesn't bother me, because I think I'll be able to find something there that I haven't had since I last left the hallowed halls of grad school: integration. In college, and then again in grad school, I always felt that my life was of a piece. No matter how much I dreaded a particular class or a particular assignment, no matter how much work I had to get done, whether I was having a good day or bad, none of it ever felt like time that wasn't mine, a part of a life that wasn't me. Everything fit. I think I'm going to get that feeling back in a few months. I'm looking forward to it.
My Plan of Attack
Oh, and since I am sure you are all dying with curiousity to know what I will be doing for three days at Triconference (sarcasm), I thought I might share the sessions I've tentatively decided to attend (in chronological order):
- MPLA Ghost Ranch Leadership Institute
- Research-Based Strategies for Teaching Early Literacy Skills
- Connecting Kansas Kids with Great Books: 2006-2007 William Allen White Awards Master Lists
- YA Best of the Year Book Talks
- Wonderful and New Picture Books for Story Times
- Program or Prizes: What Keeps Kids Reading?
- Runescape Games in Libraries
- Amazing Space
- Library Magic
- And I can't find anything that sounds vaguely appealing or relevant for Friday morning
- Comics for Grown-ups
- Wikipedias are Wonderful & Blogs are Beautiful
- Growing Up Amish
- The Bulgarian Connection
- Sex, Blood & Graphic Novels
- Give 'Em the Pickle
- Meet Youth Services: The Musical
- Tough Government Documents for Butt Kicking Librarians
- Librarians on Parade: A Fashion Show for 2006
Fashions for the modern librarian will be modeled by the Librarian of South Central Kansas Library System. Take the time to see the newest styles for all ages, sizes and shapes.
Off in Search of Adventure
. . . in Wichita. At a library conference. So actual adventure might be scarce, but you never know. The suitcase is packed and in the car, and as soon as I leave work today I’m heading down for Triconference. Which at one time I thought meant tri-annual, but it turns out to mean three organizations--KLA (Kansas Library Association), KASL (Kansas Association of School Librarians), and KAECT (Kansas Academic something something)--which come together for an annual conference. Members of the organizations (i.e. us) can apply to share their successes and good ideas as presenters and everyone else goes and steals from them. I’ve been to a couple of other conferences, but am excited because I expect this one to be different in a few ways. Two years ago I was lucky enough to be selected for the national public library conference, which was excellent, but from our system I was the lonely YS peon with a bunch of managers and admin types that I didn’t know that well. The presentations were awesome and I had people to hang with, but they weren’t necessarily friends. Last year Triconference was in town, so I saw people during the day but then went home and back to my normal life. This time there will be a lot of friends to see throughout the conference and nothing to do in the down time but party. I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been going through the schedule and figuring out which sessions sound the best for me and such. I even found a Runner’s World article about where to run in Wichita. I’m all set and ready to go and can’t wait for the work day to end.
To the tune of the A-Team
Mr. T and three guys
Mr. T and three other guys
Mr. T and three guys
The old guy, the crazy, and the suave one.
(and repeat until your friends hat you)
This has been a message from that one guy, you know, the one with the hair... who says things...
Mr. T and three other guys
Mr. T and three guys
The old guy, the crazy, and the suave one.
(and repeat until your friends hat you)
This has been a message from that one guy, you know, the one with the hair... who says things...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)