Stories from the front

“Flesh is weak.” Those three words defined his world. Growing up in the wilds of the Khadoran frontier, Nicodemus had always thought his father’s periodic utterances meant that physical weakness should be guarded against. Frontier life was hard. Only the strong survived. Only the strong could harvest a living from the unforgiving North.


Then they left the kardic lands for the dubious safety of the protectorate. Freedom from persecution. Freedom to follow Menoth’s teachings. Of course the day was oppressively hot while the nights dropped below freezing. The desert ground gave even less back to farmers than the Khadoran countryside. It seemed like every other day he heard his father muttering his mantra. He asked him once what he meant.



“We are weak son. Everybody has their price. Everybody has their limit. Some day you’ll understand—Menoth willing. It’s something to remember.”



“But Dah, I don’t understand. What do you mean?”



“It’s not something I can teach son. It’s something you have to learn yourself. Some things you can learn from listening. Some things you can learn by doing. Things like this, you learn by surviving. This is a special truth Nicodemus. Not like what the priests tell you. It’s something you and Menoth have to work out together.”



He nodded and went on doing what needed to be done. But in the back of his head he always wondered what his father meant. Now he knew. The prime minister had been weak. He betrayed his country to the enemy. The captain, night and hero, had abandoned the gray wolves. Demetrius was leading the company out of the city. Each had their reasons. Each chose to run rather than fight—weak in deed. He didn’t like leaving thousands of people to their deaths—but he understood. Everyone had their limits. He didn’t like leaving this city for the Khadoran military to take by trickery—playing at peace while never intending to deal in good faith. Paladins were supposed to stand against the darkness. They were supposed to hold the wall. Instead he was walking away. He didn’t have time to organize a defense of the city. Maybe with days to work with something could have been done. But not now. Not with thousands of regular troops advancing under cover of bombardment.

Already he could see the panic spreading. There a merchant with so many goods that he would be lucky to make it to the near gate. There a family wandering from corner to corner, trying to figure out which way lay safety. It wasn’t a full panic yet, but the beginnings were evident to anyone with an eye for such things.

Well, there was something he could do about that. Striding down the road with sword drawn, he began calling to citizens. He used the short direct tones one uses with children and animals. He collected a group. People sought safety in numbers. It would make them easier to direct—if not control. Parents had to lay down family antiques generations old. Merchants had to abandoned fripperies and fobs. They couldn’t take anything that they couldn’t carry for miles. By the time the rest of the company arrived he had the beginnings of an evacuation forming.

Walking down the road with the company at his back, Nicodemus felt at peace for the first time in a long while. His spell of protection covered him in a soft blanket of familiar energy. The arcane plates within his armor hummed at the edge of thought providing a soothing music to his magical senses. Someday he and Demetrius would encounter a conflict that his morals wouldn’t let him avoid, but for now Nicodemus was in his element. He was standing—the wall that would protect these people.

There was no way to avoid the Khadoran patrol. They advanced from an alley—calm, sure, professional with rifles raised. If it had just been a few winter guardsmen things might have gone differently. But then the lumbering shape of a heavy warjack exited the alley’s mouth. Light reflected off its armored bulk. Nicodemus was normally a quiet man—slow to anger, quiet of speech, and careful in action; but the sight of the armored behemoth ponderously striding toward the civilians set something off deep inside him. War was brutal. But this was…the city didn’t even have a proper guards force. Nicodemus knew what Khadoran armies did to cities. It was the stuff of nightmares. It had driven the Lieutenant from the Ironfangs. It should have driven the prime minister to broker a treaty of some kind. Now these people were going to…no, no they weren’t.

Nicodemus vaguely noticed his fellow mercenaries spreading out wielding magic and steel, bullet and blade. There was no stopping to negotiate. Everybody knew what the stakes were. The Khadorans were assaulted by a barrage of magic and lead. They blasted back—adopting a skirmish line. Nicodemus was almost crushed as the company’s lone warjack drove forward and struck the enemy jack with a blow that made the ground shake and dust fall from nearby buildings.

Bullets bounced off his armor without affect. Light infantry was no match for a paladin of the wall in arcane armor. With deliberate steps he sheathed his sword and advanced on the enemy jack. The sword wasn’t going to be enough. He needed freedom of movement, freedom to focus. He let the rage coalesce around his fist in a glowing nimbus. Flesh might be weak, but so was steel. He raised a gauntlet and gestured at the jack while it was recovering its balance. The bolt of energy picked the multi-ton construct up off the ground—slamming it through the air to fall on its back with an earth shattering boom. These people were getting out of the city if he had to carve a path for them through the Khadoran army. They wanted war, they would get war.

The making of an action hero, pt39I love winter. A couple days ago I walked out of my apartment building to the Smokey burnt sugar smell of impending snow. I grew up in the North East where winter was winter. Here in Maryland mother nature can’t make up her mind what season it is—30 today 60 tomorrow…etc. There’s a special kind of peace in the silence of a world blanketed in new fallen snow—no sound to be heard but the soft kiss of flake upon powder. That’s what I think of when someone says the heart of winter. I remember standing on the top of a North Carolina mountain and looking out for miles—across Christmas trees, farms, valleys, and streams. I remember looking out to the horizon where the Blue Ridge Mountains met the sky across all of that, a pristine coat of alabaster powder that swallowed the sound of the wind. Here on the border of the South, it’s nice to be reminded that winter comes even here.

Making the Man There was a time when you could tell a gentleman by his frippery. Quizzing glasses, flasks, pocket watches, canes, dueling pistols, rapiers, all had practical utility. Today we view such ornamented accessories as curiosities. The modern man should carry sleek steel and leather—gun metal and chrome, titanium and silver. Yet there is still room for today’s man to equip himself with wealth and taste without sacrificing function.

The making of an action hero pt38

When I remember thanksgiving, I think of my mom’s creamed onion recipe. I recall the boisterous chaos that was my introduction to the brunette’s family. I remember playing with my niece and nephew. I remember ham, turkey, wine, beer, potatoes, family trips, and the now traditional friends’ giving celebration. Thanksgiving is about friends and family sharing food and fellowship. Sometimes we’ve hosted the big day and sometimes we’ve been a guest.


This year we decided to host the big day. I like hosting, nobody else really wanted the honor, and after Easter I got a taste for cooking big holiday meals. That said, I’d never made a real thanksgiving dinner before—turkey, stuffing, gravy…etc. So going into this one I was a little nervous. I did my research a month out, developed a menu for 15, finalized what people were bringing, and a week out had everything more-or-less under control.

• Two weeks out, the brunette began accumulating various ingredients.

• One week out, discovered that the kickstarter project I had planned to use for my turkey rub wasn’t going to make it in time. I recalculated the recipe accordingly.

• The Saturday before, bought 13.65 pound butterball frozen turkey.

• The day before, the brunette and the Jew acquired vast quantities of “stuff per my list.” I made two trips to the store to pick up sundries not found at the local bargain-mart.

• Thanksgiving eve, I made a paste from garlic salt, black pepper, Italian seasoning, and cilantro and rubbed the turkey with the resulting dry brine. I made a pasta salad from orzo, calamata olives, celery, onions, green pepper, and Italian dressing. I made my own turkey stock by boiling the giblets with water, chicken broth, and veggies. I pre-cooked two pounds of Italian sausage and mixed the drained meat with the veggies for the dressing. I made a loaf of Banana bread. I set two three pound pork loins to thaw. I diced up a ton of veggies and bagged them up to make cooking faster the next day.

• 8:00 Thanksgiving morning rubbed the pork loins with the remaining dry brine. Put a nice crust on both loins at high heat and set them to braze with a bottle of green apple wine in the slow cooker. Looked up more recipes to confirm my plan. Puttered around the apartment doing misc cleanup—Feeling excited and slightly nervous.

• 10:30, mother-in-law arrives per plan and helps set up various supplies and prep work including cubing and toasting the bread for the stuffing.

• 12:00, turkey is rubbed with olive oil, stuffed with a quartered onion, lemon, and orange. The electric turkey roaster is pre-heated and filled with a quarter inch of white wine. Turkey is covered and left to cook at 325 for the next 2.5 hours.

• 12:45 Seven pounds of potatoes are set to boil—time is beginning to compress—I am getting really nervous. I work well under pressure but I worry a lot. Mother in law cooks her green bean casserole.

• 1:30, sausage and veggies for the dressing are sautéed till tender and mixed with the bread and a half cup of white wine and turkey broth. We use two eggs to hold the mess together and put the dressing in to cook. At this point there are no breaks except to wash dishes and clean counters.

• 1:50, we make up the batter for apple cake using a recipe from www.framedcooks.com. I find ingredients while mother in law mixes and measures. I end up giving up the idea of cooking the cake in a glass mixing bowl and go for a large baking pan instead. I begin to wonder how we will have everything served in time, where everyone will sit, and where all the food will go.

• 2:05, Potatoes are drained, mashed, mixed with onions, ranch dressing, cheese, and bacon bits. Mother-in-law blends potatoes with a hand mixer without covering the kitchen in starchy residue. This is an epic feet, one I’ve never been able to manage. I gain 1 point in true faith-in-laws.

• 2:10, we mix up the biscuit dough and fill two muffin tins—24 biscuits. Biscuits start cooking and I wonder how the cake, which has been in the oven for fifteen minutes and which is supposed to take over an hour to cook, smells like it’s almost done.

• 2:20, dressing comes out of oven. Cake is done—defying all logic. This impossibility sets me back mentally—cakes are not supposed to be over achievers.

• 2:25, biscuits, for the first time ever, are not done in 15 minutes. Apparently they are in a time share with the cake.

• 2:30, People start arriving. Life gets “complicated.” The bamboo cutting board I was going to use to serve the turkey won’t work. Mother in law fixes. I mix in flower with the turkey drippings—which thanks to the white wine are more liquid than the recipe calls for. I add the turkey stock, kitchen bouquet, garlic salt, and ground pepper to the pot and whisk repeatedly. Gravy is done but in the process I have splattered it over the oven top. I end up with a half gallon of delicious but lumpy gravy. I get out the serving tray, cover it in the pasta salad mixture, mother in law drops pork loins on top and I begin carving. Pork ends up too tender and won’t cut; it just falls to pieces under the knife. People help clean up kitchen, serve food, and kick me out of my domain.

• 3:00, dinner is served. I grab a beer, sit down, and have no desire to eat anything.





Things I learned:

1. The brunette handled most of the shopping, cleaning, guest rankling, and keeping stuff away while foodmancery was going on. She thinks it was nothing, I think it was critical to dinner going well. That meal hung on a very precarious balance of timing. I couldn’t have pulled it off without her help.

2. Mother-in-law completely saved me from catastrophic decision paralysis. By around 2:10, she was doing most of the work and I was assisting. It was my plan, but at that point it was her dinner—thanks mom. I could have handled the meal on my own, but it would have been at least an hour later and I would have suffered a stress related incident.

3. If I have to do this again, I am going to design the menu around dishes that can be made in advance and reheated. The only recipes that weren’t made from scratch were the canned cranberry sauce and bisquick biscuits. Everything piled up at the end. My timing was good in theory; but I didn’t leave myself enough wiggle room for accidents. I got way too caught up in the idea of traditional thanksgiving dinner from scratch—serves me right for reading all those cooking show recipes.

4. No matter how many people are going to events, I’m planning on making one batch of whatever I’m bringing. I have leftover biscuits, potatoes, stuffing, and gravy far in excess of what I needed. Considering I made half the dressing, potatoes, and banana bread I had planned, there’s no call to over-provide. This is the second time this year I’ve ended up with a massive quantity of leftover potatoes. Maybe I’ll make Sheppard’s pie with it. It’s going to be one bag of spuds going forward.

5. If I’m going to keep making cakes and such, I need to update my baking tins. The reason the cake cooked so quickly is that I put it in a long low pan. The increased surface area meant it cooked at twice the normal speed. I enjoy baking but it is going to require a meaningful investment of capitol to really do up right.

6. Small pork loins cook faster than large pork shoulders in the Crockpot. The pork tastes great but is reduced to the entirely wrong consistency. I wanted sliceable braised pork. I got shredded herbed pork loin. Delicious—but improvable.

7. The electric roaster was amazing. I want to get a good roasting pan and Dutch oven, but man did that thing earn it’s keep. The turkey was as tender as the pork, was easy to clean, and required zero oversight. The only reason to use a roasting pan now is for an alternate recipe, to roast veggies with the turkey, or to get the drippings for gravy. So, turkey is going to be done in the electric roaster going forward unless I want to experiment.

8. Gravy, from the jar in future. That one dish cost me almost four hours of work. I can spice up a pre-made mix and get better tasting gravy in a tenth the time—win.

9. Stuffing is essentially one loaf of bread—cubed, a pound of lightly browned meat, 2 diced onions, 4 cups of veggies, a cup of liquid, and 2 eggs—lightly beaten. That is easily adapted. The result was ok, but can be improved upon.

10. Too many biscuits. I am going to hold these going forward in favor of bread. Everybody likes them in theory but never seems to favor them in practice.

11. I went about the process of assigning dishes to guests in all the wrong order. I advised what I was making and asked what people wanted to bring with the intention of filling out any gaps. What I should have done was select dishes that would be easy to cook in concert with the entrees and left the rest to the guests. There would have been a lot less stress that way and I probably could have handled it all on my own.



After relaxing with a beer and contemplating the holiday chaos, I spent the rest of the holiday playing with the kids—blasting nurf darts across the battlefield of the back bedroom. When it was time to leave the kids wanted to know if they could come back the next day—win. After everyone was gone, I made myself a plate and savored the moment.

On the diet side, I gained 4 pounds (286 pounds as of this morning.) The day itself wasn’t an issue. The epic quantity of leftovers—mostly carbs—has proven a challenge though. I’ve been begging people to come over and deplete our reserves. In fairness, my foot rendered me unable to exercise till Saturday—basically leaving me with a week off the clubs at the worst possible time. I will lose the weight. Originally I planned on losing 10 pounds a month. I thought by the end of December I’d be looking at 250 pounds or so. Obviously that’s not going to happen. I think rather I’m going to shoot to maintain at 280—a much more manageable goal. I could kill myself, but I know how the holidays tend to run. I intend to enjoy the various holiday gatherings while maintaining my gains to this point.

The leftovers are gone—finally, my foot is healed, and I’m pushing for a tighter diet for December. I’m going back to the apple+yogurt+one other item formula for lunches. The wraps were fine at one point, but I need to cut down calories and they were pretty dense. I’m going to cook through the prepared items I have in the freezer, but beyond those constraints I’m going to make at least one salad every week. Finally, it’s back to health shakes and off the coffee. Every time I go back on the java I wake up better but can’t sleep as well. I start to crave the joy juice in the morning. Case in point, I didn’t have time to make coffee this morning so I grabbed a mountain due on the way out the door. I’m not upset about that—I just know I can do better.

Intake:

Breakfast=the rest of the apple cake/bread and a can of mountain dew.

Work meal=Greek yogurt, a bag of mixed nuts, and an apple.

Dinner=Spaghetti with marinara loaded with veggies.



Looking at today’s intake, you can see where having all that leftover food and drink in the house is affecting my diet. Must-do-better.

The making of an action hero, PT3

I like being prepared. I was a worry wart first and an eagle scout second…but either way I’ve never liked getting caught by the unexpected. My parents pushed me to be self-sufficient from a young age. As I’ve grown older I’ve noticed a growing blasé public attitude when it comes to emergency readiness. You can attribute most of that to the growing urbanization of America. It’s difficult to conceive of a time when you won’t be able to drive five miles and find a fully stocked retail center with everything from home repair essentials to household staples. Police, Fire, and EMTs are but a phone call away. Katrina, Sandy, and the recent Colorado flooding are the exceptions that prove the rule that it’s unlikely citizen Bob will ever have to deal with a FEMA-worthy emergency. Ok, I can imagine such a time, but many of my peers lack my inborn respect for Mr. Murphy. Of course there’s the other side of the coin. The zombie apocalypse meme has well and truly taken root. Many of the boards I read devote thousands of words to the consideration of preparing for a potential doomsday scenario—one in which society collapses and all meaningful infrastructure is lost. I enjoy disasterbating as much as the next guy—postulating how all my sociopolitical views will be validated when X happens and I will be able to scream “I told you so” as I giggle maniacally. “Muhahahahahaha!” Bunkering down with a few tons of guns, food, and like-minded friends sounds great…in theory. The reality of society completely devolving would be terrible left for dead notwithstanding. Does anyone really want to live in the world left after toilet paper runs out? I’ve done a fair dincum of research regarding preparedness challenges. They break down into four categories from the likely to the improbable. First we’ve got the everyday inconvenience. This covers things like minor accidents, quick fix requirements, headaches, getting stuck in traffic, bottles to be opened, packages to be cut, children to be distracted, objects to be found in darkness…etc. You can handle most of these issues by leaving a simple first aid kit in your car/home/desk, keeping a good multi-tool on hand, stashing a few rolls of duct tape, and leaving a flashlight on your keychain. Since I love gadgets, kits, and bespoke panoply, I usually have the required implement for these sorts of issues. My keychain sports a small Swiss army pocket knife and a steel bottle opener. My day pack/lunch bag carries a Swiss army multi-tool, Dug ritter first aid kit, pen, mag light, and combination corkscrew. I swear the bottle opener gets used every time we go to a friends’ gathering. I’m that guy; the one everyone knows will have a bottle opener—to the point where they don’t even bother asking the hosts for one. My multi-tool sees regular use filing sharp edges on toys, opening/assembling various projects, trimming X, cutting Y, punching holes in Z…etc. Whenever MX gets a boo-boo, Beast has a band aid handy. Whenever there’s not enough light to do something, beast has a flashlight. It honestly surprises me that more people don’t have a variant of this set up as often as mine gets used. Second, there’s the short term emergency. This includes things you can’t patch up in five minutes—your car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, a stitch worthy cut requiring immediate attention, your water/power going out for a day, getting lost on a hike, encountering a major accident…etc. Basically this is any situation that isn’t likely to last more than 24-48 hours that you can’t patch over with the normal contents of your pockets. Here your requirements are going to vary by activity and location. Someone hiking in the desert may want an anti venom kit, sunscreen, extra water, and a reflective poncho. Someone walking through the Rocky Mountains will have very different requirements. Generally you’ll want portable nourishment worth at least 2,000 calories, a quantity of water or purification tablets, short term solutions to heat and shelter, first aid, and general purpose survival materials. In addition to previously mentioned items, my day pack carries 50 feet of paracord, a pocket survival pack, duct tape, a disposable lighter, a miler survival blanket, water purification tablets, and a large insolated steel water bottle. That pack goes with me most places. When I’m going to work the main compartment carries my lunch. When I’m going out gaming it carries my dice. When I’m out hiking it carries a snack and sundry essentials. It’s not what I’d call glamorous, but no matter where I go I have the means to deal with a small scale emergency. In future I plan to add high strength cable ties, tissues, hand sanitizer, and a tube of super glue. The beast survival pack™ is always evolving. Next we have the major emergency. Natural disasters, quarantine, and civil unrest come under this heading. The big difference between minor and major emergency is duration. You’re not just trying to endure a day or two of hardship; you’ve got to survive a week or more under adverse conditions. Some people will want to shelter in place—bunkering down at a fixed location. Others will have a plan to evacuate, often called “bugging out.” I prefer to have both options available as you never know what kind of adversity you could face. Here you want enough food for 2,000 calories for at least a week, water and water purification, hygiene products, first aid supplies, and communication. The assumption is that you’re going to have to provide for yourself for a while either waiting for life to get back to normal or while making your way to a fallback position. We keep a couple cases of bottled water, a full stock of canned vegetables, canned soup, and various nonperishable foods on hand. One of the goals for 2014is to use some of our tax return to grab a full kit from: www.echosigma.com We keep a selection of survival tools and literature on hand as well in case our home becomes the fall back position for friends. The fourth and most disastrous option is the end of the world. This is one where society as we know it is destroyed with no chance of reconstruction. Here surviving for a couple weeks won’t be enough. You’ll need a means of growing/hunting food, low grade industry, replacing consumables with sustainable local products, alternate power sources…etc. If this happens, I’m going to find some like minded people, who aren’t afraid of a little work and steak a claim to an area while prepping like crazy for a long-hard-season of chaos. I don’t ever expect to have to face this situation, but if it happens there’s not much I can do to prepare for it right now. I have to prepare for options 1, 2, and 3 before worrying about doomsday. Astute readers will note that I haven’t mentioned self-defense yet. Defending yourself, your loved ones, and your property may or may not be in your plans. I could spend several thousand words on the subject and barely end up covering the basics. Put simply, your requirements are going to vary depending on which emergency you are preparing for. States have different laws on what one can and can’t own/carry for this purpose. Employers limit what employees can take on premises. A person guarding against bear attack has different needs than someone on a college campus. There’s the question of whether or not to use tools to fill multiple rolls, survival knives, hunting rifles…etc. There’s the question of how much one wants to stand out—walking around like Rambo will likely draw the wrong kind of attention. There’s the question of what you are qualified and willing to use if defense is required. This is one of those areas where careful thought should be applied. Movies, video games, and books teach us that the answer is to have as much iron-mongery on hand as possible. In reality, guns are only a part of a larger preparedness kit—one that may or may not be appropriate for everyone. Weight today=282.6 pounds. Breakfast=A health shake and a cup of coffee. Work Meal=a pepper turkey wrap, an apple, and a bag of trail mix. Dinner=Leftover chicken potpie stew, biscuits, and banana bread.

The making of an action hero pt36

; The holidays are coming. I say that with a measure of bittersweet reflection. My parents made sure that I remember Christmas and Thanksgiving as a magical time. Maturity has taken some of the shine off the season as wondrous experiences are balanced by real-world concerns. Still, I’m looking forward to this holiday season more than others. Something about this year feels different. Maybe it’s because I have a degree of satisfaction with my job. Maybe it’s something to do with the Brunette and I hosting Thanksgiving for our families. For the first time ever, we’re going to spend Christmas with friends. Maybe it’s having most of our gifts lined up already. Maybe it has something to do with our larger friends group turning to crafty gifts as opposed to throwing $20-$50 around in interchangeable presents. I don’t know. Things just feel more like the holidays are coming—in a good way. Who knows, maybe it’s the prospect of all the little kids at our family gatherings. The other side of that coin is that I’m still looking at my normal holiday malaise—diminished but imminent. For all that fall and winter are my favorite seasons; November and December usually see me a bit less motivated, a bit grumpier, a bit darker, and a bit less desirous of company. I’ve been told that I likely have S.A.D.—which is why I have the light box by my computer now. Whatever the reason I’ve started to notice my supply of “cope” and “drive” going down. Things I used to do on reflex now take effort such as making the health shakes the night before, working on my computer conversion, creative writing, exercise, not-going-to-the-work café, and minimizing snackage. I’ve been successful but not without watching the little things start to fray at the edges. Last week I ate at the work Café twice. Normally I’d call this laziness, but in this case I think it’s something different. I’ve been cutting down on my lunch portions from 3-4 moderate items to 2 items. By noon my stomach is ravening. The hunger isn’t the healthy kind—where you feel your body slimming down as your stomach empties. I was just really hungry. So, I’ve added a bag of salted trail mix back into the work meal with an occasional cheese stick for good measure. Today’s test run left me with no cannibalistic urges. So I think this one’s a winner. I don’t need a lot to eat, but I do neat several distinct items spread between 9am-12pm to tame the beast. After that a handful of unsalted almonds and a couple glasses of water suffice. This weekend was not good for the diet. Saturday morning we had breakfast with Squish and Deathquaker. I had a three egg plate with bacon, grits, harvest toast, a glass of orange juice, and coffee. I could have done without the grits—something I’ll remember for next time. This was high quality food with little grease so while it wasn’t truly healthy I don’t feel bad about it. Next we went to a friend’s home to playtest his d20 modern variant system. One of my unspoken rules is that when you’re going into someone else’s home, you should bring something to share with the group—see my previous posts about food as bonding agent. We brought fresh salsa and some upper end corn chips because they were available when we were grabbing breakfast, I love salsa, and I don’t over indulge on said snackage. One of our peers had the same idea and brought a double box of Duncan doughnuts. I haven’t had doughnuts in over a year. After several, seriously who can eat just one?, I don’t feel like I was missing much. Supposedly there’s a gourmet doughnuttery near us called the fractured prune that achieves levels of perfection otherwise inaccessible by mortals. I’ll have to try that out some time, but not any time soon. Dinner was three pieces of pizza. I managed to refrain from going overboard—hot Italian pie has its draw but not in the way it used to. I dunno, looking at the quality of my intake I lost. Looking at the circumstances surrounding that intake I think I did pretty well. We surely didn’t take much convincing, but then we were somewhat forced by circumstance into all of these meals. I’m not going to hide behind excuses, but I do like the fact that in the face of near limitless junk, I kept the damage down. Sunday started with a health shake and coffee. E.V. came over and helped me with my club video. Squish and Corc had done their best in the past, but I needed a more experienced hand. The steel club workout is as much dance as exercise. You need to get the motions right in order to get the most out of it. So, turns out I was working hard, but not doing a very good job at staying true to form. E.V. straightened me out. I’d be pissed about it, but after several months of consistent dedicated exercise, I know I can fix things and up my game. It will take work, but I’m not afraid of a little sweat. I’ve proven to myself that I can learn—that I will succeed. Knowing that I will win makes the prospect of re-learning three month’s worth of labor not quite so daunting. Later I walked up to the grocery store with black trench coat streaming in the fall wind. My boots struck the pavement decisively. I felt stronger and more present. The weekend was a failure diet wise. But I validated some strengths and learned some important limitations. That’s good enough for now. Today’s weight: 282.2 Breakfast=A health shake and coffee. Work meal=a turkey wrap, an apple, and a bag of salted trail mix. Dinner=left over Ethiopian chicken and rice. Dessert=a glass of chocolate mint wine.

The Republic of Thieves

The Republic of thieves is the third entry in author Scott Lynch’s gentlemen bastards series. Following in the footsteps of The Lies of Locke Lamora and Red Seas under Red Skies, this volume finds Jean caring for a rapidly deteriorating Locke. The bondsmagi of Karthain offer the two friends a devil’s bargain—keep to their pride and die free or be cured in return for helping them rig an election. If that weren’t enough, the opposing bondsmagi faction has selected Locke’s long lost love as their champion in the upcoming contest Faced with choosing between a horrible death with pride intact or collusion with his sworn enemy, Locke chooses to live, though with grave reservations. Within a few chapters Lamora is cured and the stage is set for a battle of wits the like of which hasn’t been seen since the gentlemen bastards faced down the gray king and the falconer. Lynch weaves a complex story of romance, vengeance, and betrayal. The republic of thieves is really two stories told concurrently. The first recalls teenage Locke and Sabetha as they find romance against the backdrop of a theatrical production. Jean and the Sanza twins play compelling support roles as the bastards’ skills are tested, love flowers in the face of teenage angst, and a cast of colorful characters builds a story worthy of Shakespeare. Of particular note is Lynch’s inspired flowery prose. His grasp of theatre, poetry, and drama is on full display. The use of the theatrical production as a frame device and grace note is masterfully executed. Sabetha is a three dimensional character—sometimes fighting Locke’s gravity and sometimes giving in to attraction. Lynch does a great job of keeping the witty banter, sharp characterizations, and ingenuity which previously marked the gentlemen bastards while clearly distinguishing them as younger less experienced versions of their future selves The second story follows Locke’s efforts to rekindle his relationship with Sabetha while fighting her attempts to secure victory in the upcoming Karthiny election. The juxtaposition of the two plots gives the reader a unique perspective which adds spice to both narratives, ultimately climaxing with a day of politics, ambition, and intrigue. Here the pacing is forced. Critical events are summarized while minor details are drawn out over multiple scenes. Witty dialog and sharp characterization carry the story at the cost of dramatic momentum. Locke and Jean spend a significant amount of time reacting to Sabetha’s gambits rather than seizing the moment. By the end of the book I began to view the present story as the price I had to pay to get to the good bits from the flashbacks. The book ends on a surprisingly indecisive note. Locke and Jean have little to show for their efforts personally or professionally. The book ends on a clear foreshadowed tone that is slightly tarnished by Lynch’s inability to deliver on the promise of his previous offerings. ***Spoilers Ahead*** I love Scott Lynch’s work. I read the first two books in this series back-to-back. When the audio books came out I bought them and re-read them multiple times. Lynch’s dialog has a way of amusing and enthralling by turns without sacrificing drama for comedy. Locke’s schemes were convoluted but ingenious. Each character had moments of greatness and failure. The setting came alive. I could taste the food, feel the alchemical liquor having its way with me, see the monsters in the depths, touch the clockwork devices, smell the scents of life at sea, and immerse myself in the story without reservation. If you haven’t read the first two books in this series, do it, do it right now. My wife and I jumped on this offering intent on devouring it in its entirety. Lynch had set the bar high and I fully expected him to deliver. My interest spiked as Jean and Locke were drawn into what I thought must surely be a contest of titans, for who but a master could convincingly oppose Locke and be worthy of his love? My experience has been that when romance gets added to a perfectly good series, the characters suffer. I was desperately afraid that Locke would fall to pieces under Sabetha’s attentions. Fortunately that didn’t happen. Locke and Sabetha are strong people with their own demons, their own pasts, and their own passions. They strike sparks off each other—fighting the inevitable, their feelings, and change, but always for good and understandable reasons. I was a little worried when the first third of the book wandered through past and present without a goal. The dialog was great. I loved the insights into Locke’s past. Seeing the Sanza twins in rare form was a treat. But it took a damned long time for the plot to get moving. The writing pulled me in but didn’t push me in any particular direction. Once the plot was well and truly under way I kept finding myself yelling at Locke to “Do something!” In the previous books, Locke either has a plan or is on his way toward a moment of brilliance. Even in failure the gentlemen bastards were inspired schemers—always exceeding my expectations. In the Republic of Thieves, they seem merely competent—often overmatched and prone to predictability. Locke rarely takes the lead and never ascends to his previous heights of genius. By the end of the book I came to morn the loss of the scourge of the wealthy, the tamer of pirates, and the slayer of empires. His substitute is just as witty but half as irresistible. The book ended with me scratching my head saying Huh? That was…weird. Three quarters of the way through I was sure that the election was the appetizer before an epic confrontation between bondsmagi factions with an added helping of gentlemen bastard style chaos. I figured that Locke’s lackluster performance was just a lead up to his awakening in the coming crisis. The book ended with Locke and Jean penniless, Sabetha gone without explanation, and the Bondsmagi resolving their issues without any external input. The ending certainly lays a decent foundation for upcoming books, but begs the question what was the point? Besides curing Locke, why did they have to go through all that? Why was Sabetha presented to us and then snatched from under our noses? I loved the flashback plot. It is everything that I have come to expect from Scott Lynch. You can see the beginnings of future heroes. The story is completely self-contained. If the Republic of thieves had been limited to the flashback segments I would be completely satisfied save for the desire to get my hands on the next volume. Unfortunately the imperfect blending of a peerless reminiscence with a mediocre narrative leaves me with mixed feelings. The Republic of thieves is worth reading, but it doesn’t live up to expectation. I can only hope that the promise shown in the first and second books matures with interest in the fourth.

Thinking about warmahordes

Warmachine has been on my mind. Thursday we went to a friend’s home to play the warmachine RPG. I’m running a paladin of the order of the wall/warcaster. The game is much closer to the wargame of the same name than the last edition. Privateer Press’s first RPG was based around the D&D 3.0/3.5 open game license. It featured lush hardcovers full of setting material and artwork. I bought all of those books, even though I never got to actually play because, well at the time I bought everything warmachine related I could find. In retrospect, the mechanics of the game represented an imperfect fit for D&D’s engine even with the 3.5 update. A conversion to pathfinder would likely remedy some of those shortcomings. In particular, the in-game cost of Arcane Tec, steam/mechanical equipment, and firearms was much more than their prevalence would suggest. The use and creation of said items was very resource intensive, often requiring multiple feets and high skill ratings before a character achieved proficiency. For those who loved the setting it was a beautiful world with a functional but limited mechanical interface. The new game features a unique 2d6 mechanic, custom careers, game play that mirrors the wargame, and a balanced advancement system. I really like character development—probably because characters retain the skills, spells, and special abilities of their wargame counterparts. Advancement is incremental with each 2-3 experience points netting a stat increase, skill bump, or special ability. Characters can only specialize so much before stat and skill maximums push them into advancing other abilities. Maximums increase every 50 experience points or so—allowing for specialization but keeping lesser characters from truly out-classing their betters. The net result is a game that favors complex multi layered characters with multiple skill sets. I don’t want to buy another game, but this one is starting to look like a keeper. My warmachine project is trundling along. Finances limit the speed of development—though with the dearth of games lately that’s not such a bad thing. Corc, Cherylkat, the brunette, and I get together regularly with the intent of playing—it just never seems to work out. We end up talking about “stuff.” Before it seems possible the night is over and no games are played. I’m giving serious thought to setting specific days for trips to Titan just so we can get our game on in a dedicated environment. Actually, WMTrainguy and I need to do that for FOW as we haven’t played in months. Of course the holidays are fast approaching—usually putting the axe to such plans. My goal is to ship out my old Khador army this week for fun and credit at BTP. I have all the models left to complete the army save a war dog and a Conquest. The conquest will have to get done in a different batch, but I’d like to be done with this army by the end of the year so I can start playing larger games. The conquest would just be nice to have around…maybe I can talk Corc into painting him. Actually, I wasn’t keen on the war dog until Butcher III came out at gencon featuring two hounds in toe. Now I feel fictionally obligated to have the little guy around. One of my recent obsessions has been legion of everblight. Despite the fact that I’ve never actually played a game of hordes, I love the faction. The more I read, the more I crunch numbers, the more I like how legion operates. A lot of that has to do with the ooo shiny factor of theoryhammering lists—a process that R and I used to go through for months at a time. I want to get a hordes list on the table. Corc kindly traded me his older metal legion starter box assembled and painted for a unit of man-o-war shocktroopers. The box caster isn’t a perfect match for me, but she’ll be good learning fodder. The real question is whether I want to start legion in March or see if lady Deathquaker would rather paint up my remaining early war French. On the one hand, the French are assembled and ready to go. Buying all that legion product would be expensive and that doesn’t even take into account the cost of having her assemble and paint them. There’s a strong financial argument against starting legion. On the other hand I really want to play hordes. It’s definitely what warmachine should have been—colorful, direct, all about the action, first world gamer problems I know. Fortunately I have plenty of time to think about it. In the mean time I’ve been reviewing the scope of a potential legion project. The nice thing about hordes is that each faction’s warlocks have their own flavor beyond mechanical theme. It’s easy, especially if you look at theme lists, to get an idea of the preferred play style for each warlock. Also, I’m interested in a limited number of support pieces, a focused set of infantry, and a targeted list of flying warbeasts. That makes it easier to review each of my potential choices. Reviewing the warlocks: • Absylonia, Terror of Everblight is a straight up beast caster who goes for the kill at warp 9. Her theme list focuses around heavy beasts supported by forsaken, shepards, and at least three lesser beasts—probably shreaders. Her simple and direct play style is appealing, but lacks tactical sophistication and flexibility. I’m pro-simple but anti-one-dementional when it comes to warlocks. • Bethayne, Voice of Everblight & Belphagor is a truly fantastic warlock. She has offense and defense. She can meld with her pet warbeast to amp up her combat stats or sit back and use him as a mobile spell channeler. She has strong attrition and senereo elements as well as a passable assassination game. She’s fun, something I highly value in a warlock. Her theme list is just plane beautiful—focusing on hexhunters, flying beasts, sorceresses—basically fast moving removal elements. • Kallus, Wrath of Everblight is a caster that I love fictionally and really have no use for in play. He’s a construct warlock who has several group-buffing abilities. He’s a bit of a beet-stick himself—durible but with decent damage output especially against massed infantry. His theme list starts with at least 40 models at tier four. The models I’d want to play him with, blighted warmongers and warspears, aren’t in his themed list. So we’ve got a caster who has all the abilities I want, but who requires all the units I don’t want with none of the ones that I prefer. He’s a no-go sadly. • Lylyth I, II, and III I want to like. Her play style meshes well for me. She hits hard. She’s a fast moving general. Unfortunately her theme lists are model heavy. She’s a strong backup caster choice. Heck, I’m even considering fleshing out her prime version with two groups of raptors, but she’s on the back burner for now. • Rhyas, Sigil of Everblight, much like Callus, looks great on paper, but requires more infantry than I want to deal with. She’s a dedicated assassination warlock lacking the tactical flexibility I prefer. I want my armies to be able to handle two of assassination, attrition, or objective based missions. • Saeryn, Omen of Everblight is one of the best warlocks in hordes and maybe the best warcaster/warlock in the game. She has game with all three of the mission types. Her spell list is second to none. Her theme list is simply beautiful. She’s up there with Bethayne for the top slot. The only issue I have with her is that fictionally, she’s tied to Rhyas, which obligates me to take one of the ninja twins if I take the other. That’s just how my mind works. • Thagrosh I and II are that rarest of cases, casters that I don’t like paired with theme lists that I do. He doesn’t jell for me. Maybe it’s because I run the butcher already and I don’t want to run another big caster. I’m not a fan of his epic version. Of course he has Typhon—probably one of the best beasts in the game. It’s sad, since I don’t like running character beasts/jacks with warlocks/warcasters that they aren’t fictionally bound to. He breaks with the beautiful and deadly esthetic that I want for legion. • Vayl I and II are beautiful on so many levels. They have complimentary styles using similar model choices. Their theme lists work well with Bethayne’s force. They have the whole winter theme going—which I love. Vayl I is an upfront spellslinger while version I is more defensive—leading to two related but distinct play styles. My only real objection is that they don’t have their own character warbeast. Based on that breakdown, I’m looking at Bethayne and both versions of Vayl as my warlocks. I’m still trying to figure out how many support units, how many centerpiece models, and how many infantry units are required for a playable force…but that’s an article for another time.

The making of an action hero pt35

I’m tired. Not didn’t-get-enough-sleep-tired but warn-the-heck-out tired. As I noted previously, I’ve gone to an every-other-day exercise schedule. This is good in that many of my physical complaints have gone away. Unfortunately that change came at the cost of a decreased weight loss rate. To be fair part of that is also that I’ve held back on the diet some in the name of reducing cravings—but the rate is still down. Knowing that criminals are plotting their plans for world domination while I’m getting back into form, I decided to up my game yesterday. I moved from the five to the ten pound clubs. Wow, @@###!!! That was ruff. After the first few exercises, mainly leg based, I could feel the weight. After the next few I had to really work to get the job done. By the end of the workout it took most of my focus just to keep going. I told the brunette that I didn’t expect going up five pounds to be that difficult. She mentioned that I doubled my weight. The truth is probably somewhere between those perspectives. The clubs are made so that the bulk of the weight flares out in front of the grip like the barrel of a baseball bat. In order to make the club heavier, the diameter of the barrel and the grip is increased. The result is a bigger, more unwieldy, outward flaring steel tube. The weight out at the end of the club provides tork above and beyond the mere weight of the unit. So it makes sense that it would be more difficult to handle. Even so, I didn’t realize how comfortable I’ve become with the five pound clubs until I tried to push through a 45 minute workout with the ten pounders. I’m tired, but not excessively sore. So I’m either not working hard enough or my body is getting used to exercise. I’m still trying to find the right balance. In the beginning strictly limiting my diet wasn’t a big deal. Since then I’ve found that mixing in some less healthy but more fulfilling options helps stabilize and prevent emotional eating. The nice part of this experiment is that I’m learning to cook things like bread, biscuits, and cake that I used to find intimidating. I’m even less inclined now to order out than before. The challenging part is that I’m learning to make things like bread, biscuits, and cake…which means we have them around the house more often. I’m finding that restricting these projects to special occasions, such as when we have company or we’re visiting friends, allows me to enjoy my own cooking while limiting my exposure. Having fresh banana bread for breakfast is nice, but it gets old when you end up having to eat it for several days in a row while the potential for snacking increases drastically. This weekend I have the bond-a-thon, 9+ hours of James bond movies+drinks+dinner+friends at our place. That is followed two days later by the brunette and my seven year wedding anniversary. I’m going to take this as the end of the easier period I’ve been going through and start picking it up. I’ll focus more on healthier meal choices. I’ll pick up the club workout pace with the end goal to be going through the entire video with the five pound clubs by the end of the year. This is going to be a challenge. But I think it will be good to push myself out of the comfort zone. I’m happy that working out every other day, not ordering out, making my lunches, weighing in, and watching my intake has become my comfort zone. Now I need to add more to that list. Weight today=281.8 pounds. Intake: Breakfast=A banana, banana bread, and milk. Work meal=an apple, tuna salad, and unsalted almonds. Dinner=Leftover pasta with meatballs and veggies.

Guns for the blind

Apparently Jimmy Kimmel took some blind people to the range, had them shoot at targets—badly, and made fun of them. Watching the resulting outrage is like hearing that people are upset that Howard Stern made fun of his guests. At some point one has to ask what they thought would happen? Was it in poor taste to tell someone that they shot their guide dog? Sure. Was the entire production cheap humor? Well yes. So what? How many people laughed when Al Pacino drove a car in Scent of a woman? (Raises hand) As a blind man who owns firearms and goes to the range regularly I’m happy to see Kimmel panning the whole blind-with-guns bit. It’s funny. It’s not a public safety risk. I’m kind of offended that this was the best he could manage, but then you have to consider the source. What bothers me is reading the follow-up commentary. “Blind people shouldn’t have guns.” “That’s dangerous!” “What do blind people need guns for anyway?” “Blind people will end up shooting bystanders if they’re allowed to carry a concealed weapon.” “How can a blind person distinguish their target—assuming they can be trusted to carry a loaded firearm in the first place?” Let’s deal with the ownership question first. I can own a car, a boat, a motorcycle, even a helicopter. The assumption is that possession of the item doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to use it. What’s the difference here? None. Lots of items are dangerous. The idea that a blind person is inherently more likely to do something irresponsible is illogical. What, do they think I don’t know I can’t see? Do people think I’m not aware that bullets have the potential to kill—you know like cars, boats, helicopters…etc? If I want to collect classic cars, sailboats, tilt-wing aircraft, or firearms that is my right as a responsible adult. It’s also my responsibility to follow applicable law and common sense when employing those acquisitions. Blind people don’t have to “need” a gun—it’s enough for them to want one. What I use it for or don’t use it for is my business as long as it’s legal—the same as everyone else. The question of usage is worth discussing for the sake of public awareness. Visually impaired people shoot guns every day. Companies like Crimson trace, Lasermax, and Insight manufacture lasers for handguns, rifles and shotguns which can be used to help spotters get a blind person on target. Several companies make devices that allow a spotter to designate a target remotely for a blind person. Many of my friends have become adept at the use of the MKI eyeball while lining up my range shots. Using proper safety precautions, blind people can enjoy firearms with 0 risks to themselves or anyone else. Recreational shooting requires a bit of effort; but the experience is entirely accessible. As to the idea that a blind person can’t carry a firearm for self-defense, all I can say is that ship sailed a long time ago. Several states, notably Vermont, Wyoming, Alaska, and Arizona don’t require any kind of skill-based assessment in order to carry a concealed weapon. Many others have unrestricted open carry. Blind people in those states have been able to carry firearms for years if not decades. The blatant absence of blind-gunslingers-gone wild™ proves that blind people can be trusted with firearms. Much as in the case of recreational shooting, steps can be taken to minimize risks in a self-defense situation. Frangible ammunition, shot shells, and low density birdshot reduce the likelihood of over penetration. Waiting until a threat is at contact distances ensures that the correct target is engaged. Proper training in firearm safety, emergency response, threat minimization, and self-defense ensures that the right choice is made in a crisis. What I see here is fear, fear that blind people will make a worse decision than a sighted person in a moment of crisis. To which the only response is trust. Every day, millions of Americans get on the road trusting that everyone else, regardless of physical limitation, will drive responsibly. This is no different. Provided a blind person meets the legal requirements for firearm ownership, we have to trust that they will act responsibly with full awareness of their limitations.