48 Hour Hiatus

48 Hour Hiatus — Blue Ink Alchemy

It's been a long, long year. I've maintained a schedule for most of that year, with posts every day and Netflix every Friday. I want to move the thing forward to its next logical step, but that requires time and energy. Most of the last couple weeks, I haven't had the time. Today? I just don't have the energy. I'm taking a break here, guys. Not a long one, not more than a couple days. Just stepping away from pushing myself to hit these deadlines as much as I have. I'm not quitting, and I still have big plans for the new year, I just need to throttle back a bit for the next, say, 48 hours or so. So, no ICFN this week. New fiction tomorrow will be available in the post at first, and I'll update the Free Fiction page when my moritorium on blogging ends. I hope everybody has a safe & happy New Year celebration, and I'll see you on the other side.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Meaty Goodness

Meaty Goodness — Blue Ink Alchemy

It seems simple at first. You're a boy made of meat, and you're in love with Bandage Girl. The good news is, Bandage Girl loves you too. The bad news is, Dr. Fetus hates everybody and YOU especially, so he beats you up and kidnaps Bandage Girl. Your quest to rescue her is a side-scrolling platforming affair. And despite the slick digital controls and polished graphics, it's devastatingly old-school. I say 'old-school' because side-scrolling platforming has been around since the old console wars. Mario did it on the NES, Sonic did it on the Genesis. And it's a type of game that does something that is somewhat missing from open world games, first-person shooters and MMOs: its challenges are static and structured. As Chris Plante writes in his Escapist article 'Hard-Earned Victories,' when you manage to complete a level, that completion is a reward in and of itself. Which ties into the 'devastating' part of my description. Watch TotalBiscuit's Wipe-A-Thon 3000 to see just how blood-curdlingly frustrating this game can be. Plante describes this as the game 'pushing back' against our efforts to beat it. It doesn't guide us with arrows, objectives, waypoints or NPCs. It presents us with the challenge, sits back and watches us try to overcome it. And when the player does pull it off, after "lots of trial and even more error", he or she feels like a million bucks, like a superstar. The boss levels seem especially geared for this. Now, I've only beaten the first chapter and its boss, but I can say with confidence that if this trend keeps up, I'm going to end up with more raised heart rates, cramped fingers and victorious cries that earn me funny looks from my wife. The combination of the established challenges, an incoming death machine driven by a maladjusted genius fetus in a jar and the kickass soundtrack pushed me to overcome the scenario. I refused to give up. I took breaks, shook out cramps, grabbed some water. And when the Li'l Slugger finally exploded, I cheered. Super Meat Boy took me to a very interesting and unexpected place. It tapped a reservoir of resolve that, in my everyday life, often goes untapped. I don't often see my daily challenges as that immediate, that insurmountable. But in this case, I did, and I took each of my failures in stride (and trust me, there were a LOT of failures) only to shake them off and try again. I learned from every mincing, grew more determined with every red splatter. Why do I not do this more often? Am I not challenged enough? Did I specifically grab this on Steam during the sale for a bargain-basement $3 instead of waiting to get Microsoft points because I knew using the keyboard would increase the challenge? I'm not entirely sure what the answers are, but I do know that facing down a new year with a finished manuscript, a renewed resolve to improve my situation and new ideas for projects to undertake, I'm going to need to come back to that place Super Meat Boy unlocks more often. I probably won't be adding an X-Box game pad adapter to my PC any time soon, because in addition to needing that money elsewhere, I feel slightly more accomplished pulling off mind-blowing maneuvers with the keyboard. I really can't call this a review, since I haven't played the entire game through, and it will be some time before I collect enough bandages and A+ ratings to render a 'professional' verdict. I can, however, offer this recommendation: Super Meat Boy is available on Steam, XBLA and will soon be available on the Wii. Get it. You won't be disappointed, but as TB says, "You may break yourself."

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Full Burners

Full Burners — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Terribleminds The best way for me to avoid feeling the doldrums of both the season and my situation are to stay busy. I throw myself into my writing during the commute and immerse myself in games and other media while I'm home. Yes, I'm an awful procrastinator when it comes to chores because of this. No, I don't see it changing any time soon. As Dave Barry puts it, "I'll mature when I'm dead." Citizen in the Wilds is closer and closer to completion. Sooner or later, you as a writer have to draw a line in the sand and say "This is where I stop. This is where I shop it out. This is where I dress up the draft, put on my best makeup and hit the street corner." Otherwise you'll be revising and editing until you're 85 and mumbling into your porridge about protagonist motivations and plot twists. So by the end of the year... Saturday... the fourth (and final?) draft will be done, and I'll be sending it to agents and test readers alike. (Yeah, that's a plug, let me know if you want to be a test reader for the final product.) This means that Free Fiction might go without an update on the 1st, though I have entertained the idea of putting just the first chapter of Citizen out as a PDF for your reading pleasure. The only other idea I've managed to maintain is related to Magic: the Gathering and unless I manage to sell it to Wizards of the Coast, it'd be fan fiction. And I don't want to waste your time with fan fiction if I can avoid it. The other other self-imposed deadline toward which I'm hurtling is for the video version of IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! featuring The Emperor's New Groove. Hopefully this evening I can test a different solution for clip capture. If it doesn't work I may have to resort to a slideshow style presentation, which strikes me as boring. Still, it would be better than nothing. We'll see how the next pair of evenings fall together. I am definitely taking New Year's Eve off. ...Which means I should probably write those posts in advance if I can. DAMMIT.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

At The Melting Pot

At The Melting Pot — Blue Ink Alchemy

No D&D this week, so I'll save the next Nentir Vale post for next Tuesday. That way it'll be fresh in everybody's mind.

My Christmas bonus from the dayjob this year came in the form of a gift card for the Melting Pot. I'd never been to a fondue restaurant before, but to my knowledge it was something like hibachi in presentation. It ended up being an evening where both the missus and I tried new things and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Our evening began with the drive out to The Shops at Valley Square. We ended up needing something resembling a reservation, a factor that didn't occur to me until we'd left the apartment, of course. We put ourselves in for an 8:30 table (we'd arrived just after 6:30) and killed time at the Border's and Yankee Candle located nearby. We both want to go back to Valley Square, some time when it's not bitterly howlingly freeze-your-extremities-off cold outside. While I'm thinking of it, Valley Square owners, have you ever thought of going the AstroDome route? A big, collapsable dome you could raise over the shops and heat? It'd make winter shopping much more palatable. Then again, it might make markup unacceptable to the shops. Hmm. Anyway. Melting Pot. Know going into the place that you're getting a four-course meal. And two of the courses, cheese and chocolate, are quite filling. Thankfully, they're spaced far enough apart that you can have room for both, and the manner of the 'main' course makes you pace yourself. But I'm jumping ahead a bit. All of the tables at the Melting Pot that we saw are booths, with a hot plate situated in the middle of the table. On this plate is the fondue pot itself, and each place has a set of fondue forks, standard forks and knives. Our server, CJ, very personably got to know us and walked us through what was going to happen. She's a vegetarian and dating a picky eater so she understood my wife's predicaments with the food selection. However, we settled on a few things and got the experience started.

First Course: Cheese

We'd chosen the swiss cheese blend. CJ took a little white wine, a spoonful of garlic, a heaping helping of shredded swiss, a sprinkling of nutmeg, a touch of Kirschwasser and a squirt from a lemon. We were provided with a large bowl of bread bits, some veggies and a cup of sliced apples. The result was absolutely delicious. The cheese took on a bit more bite as we worked through it, which we attributed to the wine. Eating fondue cheese with apples was also odd, as the heat of the cheese was immediately cut by the chilled apple while the sweet thick taste of the swiss felt interrupted by the sour Granny Smith flavor. We ended up asking for more bread. We took turns with one of our favorite Scott Pilgrim lines: "Bread makes you FAT??"

Second Course: Salad

Every dish and selection at the Melting Pot is "moddable." You don't have to eat anything you don't want. My wife's Caesar salad was served naked at her request, though she seemed to fear getting stabbed on the Senate steps for eating a Caesar salad without Caesar dressing. I assured her that wouldn't happen. My salad was a house salad with house dressing, which was a tangy mango affair drizzled over a club salad that was unfortunately missing bacon. It doesn't come with bacon, mind you - it just would have been better with bacon. Mmm. Bacon.

Third Course: Mains

There was some debate over this course. You see, the food for the mains is served unprepared. You get to cook it yourself in the pot. The pot is a collective broth everyone at the table uses to cook their meals. As I didn't want to offend my wife's palate, I both told her she could cook hers first and let her decide what broth we'd use. We went with the Mojo Style, a Caribbean-style blend that smelled like the sort of jerked fare available at MusikFest or a similar outdoor event. It was an interesting style, and I found myself liking it. My wife tried some new things on her vegetarian platter. She sampled the artichoke heart and the marinated tofu, liking the latter but not a fan of the former. I relieved her of her portabella mushrooms. I chose the Pacific Rim, a selection including Teriyaki-marinated sirloin, white shrimp, marinated pork tenderloin, breast of duck (which CJ described as duck a l'orange), breast of chicken and potstickers. I don't think I'd ever had duck before that night, and it was... well, not great. I didn't hate it, but it didn't really taste all that different from other poultry. I may change things up the next time I go, subbing the duck for portabella and maybe the pork for more sirloin. My wife may skip this course entirely, opting for an ala carte salad. Possibly more bread.

Fourth Course: Chocolate

There were a lot of choices here, and they all had appeal. There's an option to create your own chocolate fondue with a mix of chocolates (white, milk and dark) and a selection of liquers such as Bailey's, Cointreau, Grand Marnier and Chambord. I liked the idea of a chocolate-orange fondue using milk or dark chocolate and Grand Marnier, but we opted for the Cookies 'n' Cream Marshmellow Dream, with milk instead of dark chocolate in defence to my wife's tastes as well as marshmellow cream. CJ flambéed the dessert, swirled the contents of the pot and added Oreo cookie crumbs. For dipping we had strawberries, bananas, cheesecake, Rice Krispies treats, marshmellows dusted in graham cracker and chocolate, pound cake and brownies. It was every bit as delicious as it sounds.

Final Verdict

Not only was the Melting Pot some great food and fantastic service, it was a lot of fun. I can imagine the fun factor goes up exponentially with more people, but the setting was intimate enough that we had a fantastic evening.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

At The Melting Pot

At The Melting Pot — Blue Ink Alchemy

No D&D this week, so I'll save the next Nentir Vale post for next Tuesday. That way it'll be fresh in everybody's mind. Provided they read this damn thing.

My Christmas bonus from the dayjob this year came in the form of a gift card for the Melting Pot. I'd never been to a fondue restaurant before, but to my knowledge it was something like hibachi in presentation. It ended up being an evening where both the missus and I tried new things and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Our evening began with the drive out to The Shops at Valley Square. We ended up needing something resembling a reservation, a factor that didn't occur to me until we'd left the apartment, of course. We put ourselves in for an 8:30 table (we'd arrived just after 6:30) and killed time at the Border's and Yankee Candle located nearby. We both want to go back to Valley Square, some time when it's not bitterly howlingly freeze-your-extremities-off cold outside. While I'm thinking of it, Valley Square owners, have you ever thought of going the AstroDome route? A big, collapsable dome you could raise over the shops and heat? It'd make winter shopping much more palatable. Then again, it might make markup unacceptable to the shops. Hmm. Anyway. Melting Pot. Know going into the place that you're getting a four-course meal. And two of the courses, cheese and chocolate, are quite filling. Thankfully, they're spaced far enough apart that you can have room for both, and the manner of the 'main' course makes you pace yourself. But I'm jumping ahead a bit. All of the tables at the Melting Pot that we saw are booths, with a hot plate situated in the middle of the table. On this plate is the fondue pot itself, and each place has a set of fondue forks, standard forks and knives. Our server, CJ, very personably got to know us and walked us through what was going to happen. She's a vegetarian and dating a picky eater so she understood my wife's predicaments with the food selection. However, we settled on a few things and got the experience started.

First Course: Cheese

We'd chosen the swiss cheese blend. CJ took a little white wine, a spoonful of garlic, a heaping helping of shredded swiss, a sprinkling of nutmeg, a touch of Kirschwasser and a squirt from a lemon. We were provided with a large bowl of bread bits, some veggies and a cup of sliced apples. The result was absolutely delicious. The cheese took on a bit more bite as we worked through it, which we attributed to the wine. Eating fondue cheese with apples was also odd, as the heat of the cheese was immediately cut by the chilled apple while the sweet thick taste of the swiss felt interrupted by the sour Granny Smith flavor. We ended up asking for more bread. We took turns with one of our favorite Scott Pilgrim lines: "Bread makes you FAT??"

Second Course: Salad

Every dish and selection at the Melting Pot is "moddable." You don't have to eat anything you don't want. My wife's Caesar salad was served naked at her request, though she seemed to fear getting stabbed on the Senate steps for eating a Caesar salad without Caesar dressing. I assured her that wouldn't happen. My salad was a house salad with house dressing, which was a tangy mango affair drizzled over a club salad that was unfortunately missing bacon. It doesn't come with bacon, mind you - it just would have been better with bacon. Mmm. Bacon.

Third Course: Mains

There was some debate over this course. You see, the food for the mains is served unprepared. You get to cook it yourself in the pot. The pot is a collective broth everyone at the table uses to cook their meals. As I didn't want to offend my wife's palate, I both told her she could cook hers first and let her decide what broth we'd use. We went with the Mojo Style, a Caribbean-style blend that smelled like the sort of jerked fare available at MusikFest or a similar outdoor event. It was an interesting style, and I found myself liking it. My wife tried some new things on her vegetarian platter. She sampled the artichoke heart and the marinated tofu, liking the latter but not a fan of the former. I relieved her of her portabella mushrooms. I chose the Pacific Rim, a selection including Teriyaki-marinated sirloin, white shrimp, marinated pork tenderloin, breast of duck (which CJ described as duck a l'orange), breast of chicken and potstickers. I don't think I'd ever had duck before that night, and it was... well, not great. I didn't hate it, but it didn't really taste all that different from other poultry. I may change things up the next time I go, subbing the duck for portabella and maybe the pork for more sirloin. My wife may skip this course entirely, opting for an ala carte salad. Possibly more bread.

Fourth Course: Chocolate

There were a lot of choices here, and they all had appeal. There's an option to create your own chocolate fondue with a mix of chocolates (white, milk and dark) and a selection of liquers such as Bailey's, Cointreau, Grand Marnier and Chambord. I liked the idea of a chocolate-orange fondue using milk or dark chocolate and Grand Marnier, but we opted for the Cookies 'n' Cream Marshmellow Dream, with milk instead of dark chocolate in defence to my wife's tastes as well as marshmellow cream. CJ flambéed the dessert, swirled the contents of the pot and added Oreo cookie crumbs. For dipping we had strawberries, bananas, cheesecake, Rice Krispies treats, marshmellows dusted in graham cracker and chocolate, pound cake and brownies. It was every bit as delicious as it sounds.

Final Verdict

Not only was the Melting Pot some great food and fantastic service, it was a lot of fun. I can imagine the fun factor goes up exponentially with more people, but the setting was intimate enough that we had a fantastic evening.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Winter has come TOO SOON

Winter has come TOO SOON — Blue Ink Alchemy

My sister gave me this lovely gift for Christmas. I've always wanted a scale Firelord following me around, serving as my personal cook fire and immolating nearby critters. I don't know if he actually does the latter part yet. We'll see. So am I the only one who feels like this snow storm we got on the east coast of the US came out of nowhere? It could be because I've chosen to pay less and less attention the mainstream news media in this country, and the BBC doesn't often mention little things like snowfall unless it's a major event. I did a bit of running around this weekend, though, and might have missed the pertinent feed. Either way, it's on the ground now. And in my house, in point of fact. There are two tiny snow drifts just inside our back door. I've informed our excellent landlady of this and I'm sure it will be resolved soon. I wouldn't have minded if we hadn't once again run out of heating oil. However, we got the oil delivered today and after some shenanigans, the missus and I got the heater restarted. So despite not being at the office, it's been an eventful day. And we haven't even had brunch yet.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Heavy Metalcraft

Heavy Metalcraft — Blue Ink Alchemy

When I last talked specifically about Magic: the Gathering I mentioned the latest edition. I should make special mention of Scars of Mirrodin. I've always been a fan of artifacts, and now with the return of this plane to prominence and the prospect of recruiting a planeswalker whose entire shtick is artifice and I'm on board. One of the new mechanics the expansion brings is metalcraft, a condition that requires a player to have three or more artifacts in play. I've begun working on two decks using this mechanic, one because it's my usual idiom and the other because the creatures involved really tickle my fancy. Metalcrafted Control I've been back and forth about including white in this deck. Mostly it's blue, with Vedalken Certarchs rendering threats moot and Stoic Rebuttals countering spells. Etched Champions make for great defenders, but I have little in terms of outright attackers save for my Steel Hellkite. I do have a pair of Auriok Edgewrights who would benefit from the equipment sought by the Trinket Mages when they're not grabbing my Mox Opal or one of my many Memnites. And I feel a little silly putting the Opal in a mono-colored deck, but maybe that's just me. I think I could make it work, and should I ever managed to recruit Venser, he'd fit right into the scheme. Metalcrafted Myrs Okay, maybe this is just me (again), but I happen to think the Myr creatures are pretty cute. Scars of Mirrodin has an excellent starter for making a Myr deck, one I plan on acquiring, and I already have a pair of Myrsmith cards that will make me produce the little suckers like crazy. Combined with a little metalcrafted red in the form of Embersmiths and Galvanic Blasts to deal with threats, the Myr Battlesphere shouldn't take long to roll its way to victory. It may take some time to acquire some of the cards that I'd love to put in this deck, like Indomitable Archangel or Kuldotha Phoenix, but I'm refraining from buying individual cards over the Internet. It's simply not in my budget. Archenemy This casual variant is a lot of fun. The scheme cards not only provide a great opportunity to use your best evil mastermind voice, they present the other players with unique challenges every turn and make them work for their victory. It's really nice to see Magic promoting a form of cooperative play. There's no backstabbing in Archenemy, partially because every spell counts and partially because there's simply no time. Using the Scorch the World with Dragonfire deck as a jumping-off point, I may end up pulling some cards from other decks to make this threat a red-black one instead of red-green. While red-green is a color combination more commonly associated with dragons than red-black, some of the tools available will make for very nasty surprises, not to mention some of the tasty things available in another Archenemy deck, Bring About The Undead Apocalypse. Other Decks I'm still working on my idea for a Commander (formerly known as 'Elder Dragon Highlander') deck, and my old decks aren't really going anywhere. Especially not Chronomancy. But the Sliver deck and the others are somewhat semi-retired at this point, or will be once I get the Myr of Mirrodin starter. I'd like to take a crack at some standard constructed play, after all. It can be a lot of fun to compete in these things, and Cyborg One in Doylestown has a great atmosphere I wish to further explore. It seems my planeswalking has only just begun.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Christmas, All Over Again

Christmas, All Over Again — Blue Ink Alchemy

It might be kind of tacky to recycle last year's Christmas card, but I'm on a budget here. Whatever walk of faith you might be on (if any) Whatever wish you have for this season (if any) No matter where you go Or who you are with I pray for you to be happy I pray for you to be at peace I pray for you to know great love And I pray for you to give love in return. Merry Christmas.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Kingdom of Heaven

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Kingdom of Heaven — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/kingdom.mp3] A cynic is likely to look at the release of the Director's Cut of a movie, scoff openly and accuse the studio or the director of trying to milk a few additional coins out of the movie regardless of its overall merit. And really, I can't blame them. I like most sane people fear the prospect of an In The Name Of The King: Uwe Boll's Vision Extended Edition hitting Wal*Mart shelves because John Q. Buynlarge will see Jason Statham on the cover and think it's going to be Crank with swords and dragons. But this isn't always the case. Sometimes, a little thing dubbed executive meddling takes a director's vision for a film, carves it up from a delicious roast into processed lunch meat and passes it off to the unwashed masses. That's what happened to Kingdom of Heaven. Having seen both versions, I can understand why Ridley Scott wanted to get his cut into our hands. It completely and totally changes the movie. The plot is relatively unchanged. The year is 1184 and a young French man named Balian has recently lost his wife and child. A crusader appears at his smithy and claims to be Balian's birth father, offering to take him to Jerusalem to leave his sorrow behind and find redemption for his sins. The journey is a perilous one, but Balian survives to become baron of Ibelin and a prominent member of Jerusalem's nobility. An ill-advised war erupts between the Christians who hold the city and the Muslims under the command of Saladin, with Balian caught in the middle. This being a Ridley Scott film, you can expect some liberties being taken with history and its figures. Some characters are composites of historical figures and some events turn out a bit differently than they actually did. However, this is definitely a different film from Gladiator in that Balian doesn't challenge Saladin to single combat or anything like that. The events happen in the right order at the right time and are mostly unchanged despite the fictionalization. Also being a Ridley Scott film, there's plenty of enjoyment for the eyeballs in terms of scenery, costuming and brutal swordplay. While Kingdom of Heaven follows the traditions of Gladiator and Black Hawk Down in humanizing grand events by giving us the point of view of a few key individuals, it breaks from Scott's previous work in the message it's delivering. And this message is etched into the bottom of the anvils dropped throughout the movie.
"Our God can kick their god's ass!"
"Um... they're the same god, sir..."
"Blasphemy! Our God will prevail! GOD WILLS IT!"
*facepalm* The protagonists who are pious have a significantly modern and humanistic stance on their faith while the bad guys mostly use religion as an excuse to wage war and earn booty. The rallying cry of "GOD WILLS IT!" is used on both sides of the conflict. Clearly, there's a lesson on tolerance to be learned here, one that works quite well on the individual level but is harder to spread to a large group. There's a scene towards the end where Saladin, entering a temple to pray, comes across a golden crucifix that was knocked the ground. He very carefully and respectfully picks it up and puts it back where it belongs. From what I understand, this scene was met with cheers and applause in Middle Eastern theaters. So much for all Muslims hating the West. As much truth as there is in the actions and events we see, the movie isn't perfect. It runs longer than Gladiator, especially in the Director's Cut, but you might not necessarily notice... I'll come back to that. Balian can come off at times as something of a Mary Sue, being that he's a blacksmith and a swordsman and a seige-crafter and a man of virtue and looks like Orlando Bloom. That doesn't make the mass knighting in Jerusalem (another real-life event) any less awesome. Speaking of which, some history buffs may not be able to accept the depiction of events, or the lack of detail given on one of the biggest battles of the Crusades. These are minor flaws, in my opinion, and they apply to both the theatrical release and the Director's Cut of the movie.
Admit it. You wish Liam Neeson was your dad, too. The original release, which I saw a few years ago, felt disjointed and badly paced. While we get a great deal of detail on Balian, his father, Saladin, Guy de Lusignan and King Baldwin IV (Edward Norton behind a very stylish mask),one of the key players, Sibylla, is given very little screen time and characterization. It's like she's introduced, gets into Balian's life and then is swept aside in favor of fluttering banners and the siege of Jerusalem. Her role in the events that unfold in the Holy Land is rendered nearly to non-existence. I never thought it was bad, per se, but I definitely ranked it below Gladiator. In the Director's Cut, Sibylla's role is expanded and deepened, and her son, which wasn't even mentioned in the theatrical release, also has a pretty significant part to play in the plot. Balian feels a bit more real and less of a Mary Sue, there's some good payoff in his relationship with Guy, and everything I liked about my first viewing - the scenery, the shot composition, the brutal realistic fights and the message of tolerance in the face of a holy war - remained intact, if it wasn't enhanced. This is no cash-grab. This is no pandering re-release. This is an entirely different movie, and it's one of Ridley Scott's best. Put the Director's Cut of Kingdom of Heaven on your Netflix queue for any one of the following reasons: It's a period drama, a tale of adventure, an interesting romance and climaxes in a battle that feels taken right out of the Pelennor Fields in Return of the King. It feels shorter than its three hour running time and it's worth every minute. Except for that Overture and Entr'acte bits at the beginning of each disk. I really didn't like the idea of Saladin suddenly breaking into song. Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Paging Doctor Strange

Paging Doctor Strange — Blue Ink Alchemy

As much as I never really got into reading his stories on a regular basis, I'm a big fan of Doctor Strange. Marvel's a world full of armored geniuses, super-soliders and Viking gods. Standing right beside them is this bookworm, a former surgeon who managed to become Earth's Sorcerer Supreme? How did he do it? Did he stumble across a magical MacGuffin or get touched by an angel or bitten by a magical spider? No. He worked for it. Granted, his origin story isn't a terribly noble one, but this is Marvel we're talking about. Strange was a gifted surgeon who cared more about his wealth and reputation than actually helping people. He got involved in an auto accident that damaged the nerves in his hands. He lost much of the fine manipulation necessary to be a surgeon. Stubborn and vain, Strange refused to take a position as a consultant or practice 'lesser' medicine and hunted down every potential cure he could find. His search was fruitless and drained his fortune, leaving him a destitute back-alley doctor, his reputation lost and his bar tabs mounting. Finally, he heard word of someone called "the Ancient One," pawned the last of his possessions to seek the hidden monastery, and begged for the Ancient One to heal him. The Ancient One refused. Furious, Strange very nearly left only to see the Ancient One beset by mysical forces. His curiosity overwhelmed his frustration and he began to speak to the Ancient One as a pupil does to a student. Uncovering treachery and trying to warn the master, Strange overcame his selfishness and vowed to combat the evil he'd seen with his own eyes. Through years of study and practice, he became a sorcerer and one of the foremost minds of the arcane in the world. He's been through a lot. He's faced all sorts of challenges from the likes of Doctor Doom to personifications of cosmic forces. He's survived them all, with nothing more than the contents of old scrolls and his own quick thinking. And he has never, ever gone back to thinking only about himself. At every turn, he's contributed to the greater good of the world around him. How is this not something to which we should aspire? Doctor Strange is a shining example of the proper response to hubris and hardship. Despite all his challenges, all he's lost, he soldiers on, taking on the next obstacle as resolutely as possible. He never gives up. Even when he loses the title of Sorcerer Supreme, he holds on to his abilities not to pursue his own aims, but to help from the sidelines, advise from the shadows. He still refuses to give up on a world that would have given up on him long ago. I have to wonder if, these days, walking as he does with a sullen disposition and rocking a mean trenchcoat, he ever thinks back to those days as a surgeon, to the way he'd casually light a cigarette the moment he's out of the operating room ensuring the patient can pay for the life-saving medicine he just administered. Since becoming a sorcerer, he's never demanded payment, never asked for special recognition or reward. Even when he's all but bugged to remain with Luke Cage's New Avengers, he politely and humbly tries to tell them he's not worthy to stand among them, that his mistakes are too great, his burdens too much for others to bear. Yet he has borne the hardships of others many times, and when Strange finally cracks the smallest of smiles, it's a greater statement than reams of text could make. Brian Michale Bendis and Grant Immoren are doing a fantastic job with Strange. I'm glad to see him in this current form and look forward to more. When I was a child, I was fascinated with the magic. Nowadays, I'm fascinated by the man.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Little Changes

Little Changes — Blue Ink Alchemy

Think of a favorite story of yours, or a beloved character. Chances are there are things about that story or character you take for granted. Here are some examples: Superman fights for truth, justice and the American way. Aragorn is proud of his heritage and wishes to reclaim his throne. Buffy learns of her destiny as a Slayer while she's a cheerleader in high school. Tyr's hand is devoured by a dire wolf named Fenrir. Change one thing about any of those stories, and everything changes. Warren Ellis changed one thing about Superman. If his spaceship had crashed on Earth twelve hours earlier, it would have landed in Sibera, not Kansas. Hence, Red Son, one of the most audacious and comprehensive Elseworlds stories I've ever read. No aspect of the DC Universe is unaffected by this one matter of timing, from Kal-El's relationship with Diana of the Amazons to Hal Jordan's origin as a Green Lantern. Superman becomes a heroic symbol of Communist Russian under Stalin, all because of the Earth's rotation. Aragorn changed in Peter Jackson's films. Instead of reforging Narsil the red-hot second he reaches Rivendell in his eighty-sixth year, Aragorn shrinks from his destiny. He fears the weakness of men, unconvinced that the blood of Numenor makes him any different from the weak and corrupt people he's met and will meet. While some die-hard fans of Tolkien's works threw back their heads and howled at this change (among others), I found this made his character deeper, more realistic and much more interesting and appealing. How many of us are that confident in our own abilities, our own destinies? How many of us entertain doubts about our futures and our capacity to meet the challenges awaiting us? Aragorn, despite his long lifespan and epic destiny, seems much more like us, and thus we are drawn deeper into his story and that of the Fellowship. Imagine if Buffy found out she was a Slayer at a younger age. Let's say she's six years old, her daddy's attacked by a vampire at an amusement park and she stakes it with a popsicle stick. Just pure instinct: she jumps onto the monster and drives the wood home through sheer panic. How would her story change? How shallow would she really be with blood on her hands at such a young age? Or go the other direction. Buffy's in her twenties, married to some pretty jerk who has no time for her, so she fills her days shopping and gossiping. It could be like any episode of Sex & the City until the vampires get involved. How reluctant would she be to respond to the call? What if her husband tried to turn things around given her drastic change in lifestyle, only to discover she's had an affair with Angel? Think about it. I mentioned Tyr because of The Drifter's Hand, obviously. It was more a change of genre than a change of events, but it was still an interesting exercise. It's extended into other works as well, as the fourth (and final?) draft of Citizen in the Wilds proceeds. I changed a few things, dialed back some characters to let others grow in a different way. The results are a definite improvement. The downside is, more rewriting is required. But if the end result works better, it will be worth it. What stories would you change, if you could?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Beyond the Vale: The Tower of the Arcane

Beyond the Vale: The Tower of the Arcane — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast, Art by David Tidd & Mark Tidd Since there is an arcanist in the party, it's very likely her knowledge came from somewhere. She is a wizard, not a sorcerer, meaning her abilities came to her through study rather than appearing spontaneously. The knowledge of wizards in the lands beyond the Nentir Vale flows from a single place, the Tower of the Arcane. Located on the southern shore between Fortune's Harbor and Meloravia, the Tower of the Arcane is the bastion of higher knowledge throughout the land. Pilgrims from every corner of the Empire search for it, but it can only be found by those who have been there previously. This means that only apprentices who travel with their masters can find the Tower. The Tower is administrated by the Five Archmages, studied arcanists chosen by their peers after decades of continued research and correspondence. Throughout all the changes of power and political and military struggles, the Tower has remained staunchly neutral. The reasoning of the Five Archmages is that magic itself holds no allegiance, therefore they should not. This caused many refugees from war-torn areas of the land to seek the Tower, but without a wizard with them, most either were forced to turn back or became lost forever. Upon taking power, Emperor Lysander issued an edict for the Tower to open to him and pay homage, but as he is not an arcanist, the Five Archmages refused. The Emperor sent a regiment of his troops, backed by Iron Circle mercenaries and priests of Bane, to find and take the Tower. None have yet returned. Wizards have also withdrawn from the court of the Emperor, with only one remaining to serve him as an advisor. However, upon saying something the Emperor didn't like, Lysander had the man's tongue removed. It grew back thanks to magical healing, but the wizard has since kept his own counsel. Bane's men are eager to try new methods of shutting him up. For now, the Tower and its secrets remain closed to all save those few who carry their power in tomes, scrolls and the forgotten lore of the arcane...

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Beyond the Nentir Vale: The Tower of the Arcane

Beyond the Nentir Vale: The Tower of the Arcane — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Wizards of the Coast, Art by David Tidd & Mark Tidd Since there is an arcanist in the party, it's very likely her knowledge came from somewhere. She is a wizard, not a sorcerer, meaning her abilities came to her through study rather than appearing spontaneously. The knowledge of wizards in the lands beyond the Nentir Vale flows from a single place, the Tower of the Arcane. Located on the southern shore between Fortune's Harbor and Meloravia, the Tower of the Arcane is the bastion of higher knowledge throughout the land. Pilgrims from every corner of the Empire search for it, but it can only be found by those who have been there previously. This means that only apprentices who travel with their masters can find the Tower. The Tower is administrated by the Five Archmages, studied arcanists chosen by their peers after decades of continued research and correspondence. Throughout all the changes of power and political and military struggles, the Tower has remained staunchly neutral. The reasoning of the Five Archmages is that magic itself holds no allegiance, therefore they should not. This caused many refugees from war-torn areas of the land to seek the Tower, but without a wizard with them, most either were forced to turn back or became lost forever. Upon taking power, Emperor Lysander issued an edict for the Tower to open to him and pay homage, but as he is not an arcanist, the Five Archmages refused. The Emperor sent a regiment of his troops, backed by Iron Circle mercenaries and priests of Bane, to find and take the Tower. None have yet returned. Wizards have also withdrawn from the court of the Emperor, with only one remaining to serve him as an advisor. However, upon saying something the Emperor didn't like, Lysander had the man's tongue removed. It grew back thanks to magical healing, but the wizard has since kept his own counsel. Bane's men are eager to try new methods of shutting him up. For now, the Tower and its secrets remain closed to all save those few who carry their power in tomes, scrolls and the forgotten lore of the arcane...

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Revision's A Hatchet Job

Revision's A Hatchet Job — Blue Ink Alchemy

A couple of weeks ago I touched on the subject of rewriting your novel. Wendig's Writing Haus continues to spew fantastic advice on editing, and this mostly concerns phase two, or what he recommends as phase two. When you edit for content, after all, you're doing something particular with the manuscript: you're revising it. And at first, you'll be taking a hatchet to your beloved work. I know, it's mostly a matter of semantics, but let's break it down into a bit more detail.

Revise

Writing a novel, or a story of any significant length for that matter, is a marathon, not a sprint. It's a long haul from your first word to your last punctuation mark. Things will change along the way - your pace, your word choice, the dynamics between characters. It's important to take this into account as you look over your freshly-forged story. Some of your passages are likely to be weaker than others. Shore them up. If something is happening too soon or too late in the story, trying moving events around a little. Nothing is set in stone.

Rewrite

As you revise, you may find yourself realizing that something just doesn't work. Maybe a character needs to develop in a different way. Or maybe they'd work better if they were a different race or gender? A single decision can alter huge portions of the text. Don't be afraid of this. You may want to save a copy of your manuscript under a different name, provided you're working on a computer instead of by hand. If you are working by hand, you have my respect. No matter how you do it, don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, but do let that water out and refill the tub.

Revise Again

After you're done rewriting, it's time to revise again. Dropping text bodily into your manuscript has likely left some ripples. Descriptions may need to change, events happen sooner or later, etc. Every time you do this, though, you'll likely find yourself doing it with progressively smaller tools. If your first edit & revision was done with a hatchet, this time it'll get done with a steak knife. If it was the steak knife's turn last time, you'll be using a paring knife this time. Paring knife, scalpel, screwdriver... the tools get smaller and smaller as the work moves closer and closer to being completely done and, in an ideal world, publishable. How quickly to you find your tools shrinking? Have you ever tossed out something you wanted to keep and found the story was better for it? Has there been a time where you've found the story going in a direction you did not expect, and had to revise the beginning to reflect this? Feel free to share.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Search Term Grab-Bag 2: Electric Boogaloo

Search Term Grab-Bag 2: Electric Boogaloo — Blue Ink Alchemy

Once again, not nearly as interesting as Chuck's, but at least there's something to jabber about. the brain I'm not sure if they were looking for my thoughts on brainy characters, or just the smart mouse that runs around with Pinky. troll wow, wow troll Still on the search for troll boobs, I'm assuming. batman Again, this is a little ambiguous. Were they looking for a specific tale of the Caped Crusader? My general thoughts on the goddamn Batman? I haven't talked about Batman all that often but there's no end to discussion when you really get into it. Is he crazy, or just very dedicated? Is his "no killing" rule a good thing or a stupid decision? Who among his wards looks the best in Robin's outfit? So on and so forth. team fortress 2 heavy female version Rule 34 aside, this is an interesting idea. What would the TF2 Heavy look like were she female? Would they go for a svelte Russian femme fatale like the Black Widow or Molotov Cocktease? Or should she be a husky russkie, swaddled in furs and hunting down sandviches? I wonder...

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Overclocked

Overclocked — Blue Ink Alchemy

If you're unfamiliar with OverClocked ReMix, you should do something about that. The concept is simple: take your favorite video game music, remix or rework it into a different genre or with different music, and post it on the site. The results are many and varied, as you can see here:

Chrono Trigger: Schala's Theme

Final Fantasy VI: Locke's Theme

Mega Man 2: Dr. Wily Stage 1

The Legend of Zelda - A Link To The Past: Dark World

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Overclocked

Overclocked — Blue Ink Alchemy

If you're unfamiliar with OverClocked ReMix, you should do something about that. The concept is simple: take your favorite video game music, remix or rework it into a different genre or with different music, and post it on the site. The results are many and varied, as you can see here: Final Fantasy VI: Locke's Theme Mega Man 2: Dr. Wily Stage 1 The Legend of Zelda - A Link To The Past: Dark World

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Ladyhawke

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Ladyhawke — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/ladyhawke.mp3] Ah, the 80s. A time of big hair, big money and big ambitions. It was a time when actors could be presidents, MTV actually played music, and a young writer wrapped his hands around the joystick of an Atari 2600 for the first time. Many an afternoon in my house was spent with my sisters and me navigating digital corridors and writing down maps and passwords. Good times. Okay, the nostalgia's out of the way. Let's take a look at a movie born of the 80s - Ladyhawke. We are introduced to the medieval fortress city of Aquila, France through the eyes of young thief Phillipe Gastone, called the Mouse. Aquila is ruled by her corrupt and powerful bishop, and nobody has ever escaped from her hellish prison until the Mouse wiggles his way out at the very beginning at the movie. The captain of the guard catches up with the loquacious pickpocket only to have the arrest interrupted by a mysterious man, dressed in black and accompanied by a majestic hawk. The man's name is Navarre, and he takes Phillpe with him to learn of a way into Aquila for a personal vendetta. By night, however, Navarre is nowhere to be found, and Phillpe instead encounters a vicious black wolf and a hauntingly beautiful woman named Isabeau. With its setting and sparing use of magic, this is a story that could be taking place in the world of George RR Martin. Along with the trappings of the setting is a very strong ensemble cast of well-developed characters. Among other things, the movie does a good job of capturing the attitudes of the hawk and the wolf. The hawk is a spirited, beautiful creature, refusing to be bound and returning to whom she chooses. The wolf is a skilled and deadly hunter whose rage is only abated in the presence of Isabeau. I'm sure those of you who haven't seen the film have already gotten an inkling of what's going on, but I won't say more for fear of spoiling the entire story. Which I do recommend you see, by the way. "Wait," I hear you ask. "Didn't you recently review another fantasy movie from the 80s? And didn't you hate its guts?" Yes and yes. Let me explain the difference.
Navarre is French for 'badass'. Here we have an example of how good storytelling can compensate for things that might not age or work all that well. Rutger Hauer, Leo MacKern and John Wood were already veterans of the stage and screen before Ladyhawke, and Matthew Broderick and Michelle Pfeiffer went on to become household names. Not every line is a complete winner, but lines good and bad are delivered with just enough sincerity and concrete emotion that we are drawn completely into the story. Nevarre is a strong and resolute man, but he's also a man of deep emotion. Phillipe may seem a vain and somewhat cowardly thief, but he's also a pious and generous one. The Bishop is all the more menacing for the rigid control he maintains over his emotions, rarely speaking above an cold and edgy rasp. There's nuance and presence to pretty much every major character we meet, and they damn near carry the entire movie on their own. It's a good thing, too, as the story may have suffered at the hands of some of the 80s trappings. The music is permeated by the syths of the Alan Parsons Project, orchestral sequences underscored or outright interuppted by rock riffs influenced by early digitization. It shines in places and plummets in others, causing some major distraction from the story. Some of the special effects haven't really held up, though one sequence in particular still chokes me up. You'll know it when you see it. Lastly, while the fights in the movie are pretty gritty and lean more towards the realistic than the flamboyant or fanastical, some of the swords used in the action shots aree clearly not the sturdy 'hero' blades. I know steel is meant to bend before it breaks, but the degree to which some of these blades curl had me scratching my head a little.
The Mouse, having an argument with the Lord. All of this fails to matter, though, when the story is this good and told this well by actors this skilled. This is the difference between a movie like Ladyhawke and one like Masters of the Universe, or Revenge of the Fallen or Attack of the Clones. At its core, Ladyhawke is all about the stories, the lives of its characters. It takes time to develop its players and weaves connections between all of them in a very deep way. Combine this compelling storytelling with good cinematography, well-done fight scenes and some moments of both geniune levity and heart-wrenching emotion, and you have a great movie. Without that story, it'd be just so much sound and fury. The soundtrack dissonance is overcome in a few key places. The somewhat lackluster level of special effects fails to matter in the moments the story is at its best. Things like magic and curses work as framing devices for the drama, rather than shouldering the story out of its way. This is what sets Ladyhawke apart from those other attempts at film-making. This is why it succeeds and they fail. This is why, while it shows its age in places, the core of the movie is pretty close to timeless. Ladyhawke absolutely belongs on your Netflix queue, because it is one of those movies that tells its tale well no matter what the year is. In other words, it's a classic. And classics never go out of style. Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Hunter in Cataclysm: Etiquette

The Hunter in Cataclysm: Etiquette — Blue Ink Alchemy

...Guess I'm looking for non-tier things to buy. I'm not entirely happy with Cataclysm right now. It has less to do with the prospect of my hunter's Tier 11 armor, which makes me look like I'm being devoured by an undead murloc, and more with some of the behavior I'm seeing. I know it doesn't directly affect me or my gameplay, but it's something I feel bears mentioning because it bothers me. When you're in a group, be it a dungeon PUG or a guild raid, there are a few things to keep in mind. Other than what pet to bring along, what specialization to operate with and what food to eat for a particular buff, there's some basic etiquette that I feel should be observed. I know some of this will seem like common sense or has been said previously, but it bears repeating.

Listen To Instructions

Provided you're in a Heroic dungeon or a raid, your tank or guild leader will likely tell you which creature in the pull is going to get crowd controlled by a particular member of the party, and as a Hunter, that means you might be trapping something. Set your pet on passive, be ready to misdirect to the tank as soon as you switch targets and put Distracting Shot on your bars so you pull your target into the trap. Sounds easy, right? You'd be surprised how many hunters ignore these instructions and try to Multi-Shot the group. Now, in normal dungeons, you can get away with this a little bit. Lower dungeons in Cataclysm aren't hard and fast when it comes to the mechanics of the pull. However, this is a good habit to get into for higher level instances, where behavior like this will wipe the party and possibly get you kicked. At least, it should. It's bad, and you should feel bad. See "Know Your Role" below.

Don't Hassle the Healer

The healer's top priority is keeping the tank alive. If a pull goes bad and there are mobs in the group, you can help by using Feign Death, Misdirecting to the tank or hitting Deterrence. You do not help by calling the healer names when you don't get healed. If you die, the tank and healer don't and all attackers are killed, it's a success. You can ask nicely for a resurrection or just man up and run back to your corpse afterwards. I'd add it doesn't help to hassle the tank, either, but that falls under listening to instructions. Because if you're listening, you're not talking. Pay attention.

Know Your Role

Listen, hunters, we no longer AoE. It's a fact. We have Multi-Shot and we can launch Explosive Traps. That's it. It's not our stock in trade. We do consistent, single-target, non-magical DPS and provide crowd control of various flavors, from pulling a mob into a trap to Feign Death when something comes at our face. It's how our class was meant to be, and in Cataclysm and the implementation of Focus it's a niche we should be happy to fill. If you really want to AoE as a DPS, play a Mage or Warlock instead. This is just stuff off the top of my head that makes me reluctant to join a pick-up group.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Hunter in Cataclysm: Etiquette

The Hunter in Cataclysm: Etiquette — Blue Ink Alchemy

I'm not entirely happy with Cataclysm right now. It has less to do with the prospect of my hunter's Tier 11 armor, which makes me look like I'm being devoured by an undead murloc, and more with some of the behavior I'm seeing. I know it doesn't directly affect me or my gameplay, but it's something I feel bears mentioning because it bothers me. When you're in a group, be it a dungeon PUG or a guild raid, there are a few things to keep in mind. Other than what pet to bring along, what specialization to operate with and what food to eat for a particular buff, there's some basic etiquette that I feel should be observed. I know some of this will seem like common sense or has been said previously, but it bears repeating.

Listen To Instructions

Provided you're in a Heroic dungeon or a raid, your tank or guild leader will likely tell you which creature in the pull is going to get crowd controlled by a particular member of the party, and as a Hunter, that means you might be trapping something. Set your pet on passive, be ready to misdirect to the tank as soon as you switch targets and put Distracting Shot on your bars so you pull your target into the trap. Sounds easy, right? You'd be surprised how many hunters ignore these instructions and try to Multi-Shot the group. Now, in normal dungeons, you can get away with this a little bit. Lower dungeons in Cataclysm aren't hard and fast when it comes to the mechanics of the pull. However, this is a good habit to get into for higher level instances, where behavior like this will wipe the party and possibly get you kicked. At least, it should. It's bad, and you should feel bad. See "Know Your Role" below.

Don't Hassle the Healer

The healer's top priority is keeping the tank alive. If a pull goes bad and there are mobs in the group, you can help by using Feign Death, Misdirecting to the tank or hitting Deterrence. You do not help by calling the healer names when you don't get healed. If you die, the tank and healer don't and all attackers are killed, it's a success. You can ask nicely for a resurrection or just man up and run back to your corpse afterwards. I'd add it doesn't help to hassle the tank, either, but that falls under listening to instructions. Because if you're listening, you're not talking. Pay attention.

Know Your Role

Listen, hunters, we no longer AoE. It's a fact. We have Multi-Shot and we can launch Explosive Traps. That's it. It's not our stock in trade. We do consistent, single-target, non-magical DPS and provide crowd control of various flavors, from pulling a mob into a trap to Feign Death when something comes at our face. It's how our class was meant to be, and in Cataclysm and the implementation of Focus it's a niche we should be happy to fill. If you really want to AoE as a DPS, play a Mage or Warlock instead. This is just stuff off the top of my head that makes me reluctant to join a pick-up group.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Free Fiction: The Drifter's Hand

Free Fiction: The Drifter's Hand — Blue Ink Alchemy

As promised, today sees the second entry in my new Free Fiction section. I was admittedly a little surprised when I saw how well Greek myth and tragedy translated into non-Greek settings like science fiction. I wanted to try and experiment with other mixes, taking classic stories and putting them in different genres. Norse myth and Westerns felt like the next logical attempt. The Eddas are full of manliness, with epic tales of heroes facing down monsters and often paying a dear price for being who and what they are. And many Old West tales bring us images of stalwart, stoic men standing in dusty roads, eyes narrowed at an opponent, unwilling to back down even if it means a bullet for their trouble. It felt, to me, like a match made in Asgard, and the result is The Drifter's Hand. You can read the text below, or download the PDF here. Either way, read, comment & enjoy. [spoiler] For a good portion of the late 1800s, the Arizona boom-town Midgard was every bit as prosperous and populous as her sisters. She never quite grew to the proportions of Tombstone, though, and as the new century approached she began to shrink. There was talk of the railroad going through or near the town, but local lawlessness kept the Santa Fe people from really committing to any sort of construction. The stranger approached Midgard on a strong but tired horse, his hat half-tipped over his eyes, his beard disheveled and lips cracked from the road. His boots were caked with mud and his duster had more than a couple holes in it, some natural wear and tear while others clearly indicated the paths of past bullets. He seemed heedless of the looks he was getting from Midgard's locals as he rode into town, his horse unerringly heading for the nearest trough of fresh water. As soon as his steed was positioned to wash away some of the dust from the road, the stranger swung down from the saddle, tying the horse to the nearby hitch. Removing one of his gloves, the man bent to the trough and drank some of the water himself. Flicking some droplets away from his beard, he turned and headed in the direction of the saloon. His spurs tapped against the wooden floor. The mid-afternoon crowd in the saloon barely numbered a dozen, roughly half of them at or near the Faro table in the corner. The man behind the cards, a well-groomed gent with a dark waistcoat and thin mustache, glanced up at the stranger before declaring the player to his right the winner. The stranger removed his hat and approached the barkeep. "I'd like a room, if one's available." "Ain't seen you 'round here before," the barman observed as he placed a shot glass on the bar and produced a bottle whiskey. Seeing it, the stranger nodded. "You just passin' through?" "I've been on the road quite a while. Not sure if my last stop'll be Tombstone or further west." The barman nodded, pouring the drink. "Well, there's a room available for the night, if you want it. Ten dollars to occupy it, and that entitles you to breakfast in the mornin'." "Sounds like a good deal." The stranger was rummaging under his duster for his money when the saloon doors swung open again, permitting a stocky man in a widebrimmed hat to enter. The sash around his waist, the band at his arm and the kerchief tied around his neck were all the same color, the red of blood pumping from a gaping wound. "Oh, horseshit." The color drained from the barman's face. "It's Tuesday, Dwight," the newcomer bellowed. "Fenris wants their money." "I don't have it all." The man behind the bar, his hand shaking, produced a modest iron box with a handle. He opened it and pulled out a small wad of bills. "The rooms ain't been full all week and not many people been stoppin' by..." "Stuff it." The newcomer snatched the money from the shaking hand offered to him, and quickly counted it. "This is all? What about that city slicker in the corner?" At mention of the corner, the crowd around the Faro table scattered. The man who'd been dealing raised his eyebrows at them. "Looks like he just lost most of his profit," he observed, not looking at the newcomer. "I already paid Dwight for this week." The newcomer slammed a fist into the table in frustration and grabbed Dwight by the lapels. "I oughta break your face. You holdin' out on Fenris? You know that ain't smart." "I'm sorry! I'll have it tomorrow!" "Tomorrow is when Fenris comes through here and burns this stinkin' waterin' hole to the ground!" The sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the saloon. The newcomer's eyes slid to his right, towards the barrel pressed to his temple. The stranger set down the shot glass with his right hand, the left occupied with gripping the Colt Peacemaker. "I think now's a good time to leave," he told the newcomer. "You lost your marbles, stranger? This ain't your concern." "I plan on sleeping here. If you and whomever this Fenris guy is plan on burning the place down while I'm sleeping in it, I'd say that damn well makes it my concern." "Fenris ain't one guy. Fenris is a force of nature! It'll sweep through this town like a plague outta the Bible!" "Well, you can tell Lucifer all about it when I send you to meet him. Which'll be in 5 seconds if you don't haul ass." The newcomer's face slackened, his eyes flicking between the hard countenance of the stranger and Dwight's disbelieving expression. At the fourth second, he swallowed. "This ain't over." He backed away from the gun, and then shook a fist at Dwight. "This ain't over!" "It is for now," the stranger said. "Disappear." He did. Dwight poured the stranger another whiskey. "Nobody's stood up to a Fenris man for months. You must really not be from around here." The stranger knocked back the shot. "Mind telling me who or what Fenris is?" "Wolves of Arizona." The voice came from the man behind the Faro table, who stood and walked over to join the stranger at the bar. "Thieves, bank robbers, kidnappers and murders. Just the worst sort of cowboy. Most of 'em just wear the red sashes. Fenris folk go the extra mile with those red kerchiefs and armbands of theirs." "Heard most of the cowboys were down near Tombstone." "So they are, stranger, so they are. One for me too, Dwight." "Right away, Mr. Frey." Dwight produced a second glass, cleaning it quickly to pour the dealer his whiskey. "Needless to say," Frey went on, "you've made yourself an enemy, and one that won't easily be placated, Mister..." "Tyr. Jim Tyr." "Pleased, Mr. Tyr. Arthur Frey, at your service." "You can just call me Jim. Mr. Tyr's my father." "In that case, Jim, why don't you call me Art?" "So why are we playing poker now, instead of Faro?" Art shrugged. "I like changing the game. I call." Jim rubbed his trimmed beard and considered his hand. Three threes wasn't a strong one but it wasn't bad, either. He didn't fold. The locals at the table did. Art turned his cards over, showing a straight. Jim leaned back and gestured to the pot. "All yours." Art smiled a bit and raked in the winnings as Jim turned back to his supper. Dwight had waived the fee for his room earlier, and after coming back from a bath and shave, Jim had found a plate of warm food waiting for him, also courtesy of the barkeep. "I hear you ran off one of the Fenris boys." Jim stopped in the middle of slicing a bit of chicken with a dull knife. "He was hassling Dwight and threatening to burn the place down. I'm sleeping here tonight. Didn't want to wake up on fire." "An understandable concern, stranger, but most folk around here don't want to piss off the Wolf." Jim looked up. The man standing over him wore a dark patch over his left eye and the star of a United States Marshall. "They aren't afraid of you, I take it?" "They know I can't be everywhere at once. And when I'm gone they think it's fun to shoot my deputies. Always have plenty of witnesses to say it was self-defense or some such, though. Everybody's afraid of 'em. They, on the other hand, don't seem to be afraid of anything." "They should be. Every man's got the same blood, same skin, same tendency to die when shot or stabbed." "Now there's a pitch-black observation." The Marshall leaned on the bar. "Where are you from anyhow, Mr. Tyr?" Jim bristled. "Back East. Grew up around Arlington." "You fight in the war?" He looked at the Marshall. "Yeah. Did you?" Before the Marshall could answer, the doors of the saloon burst open. Three men walked in, all wearing the red of Fenris. Dwight ducked behind the bar and the music stopped. "Odin! Where is he?" The Marshall turned. "Right here next to me, Luke Hundr. And you ain't taking him tonight." Luke stalked towards the table, his two cronies in tow. Art made a move to stand, but Jim shook his head. He stepped away from the others and hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. "You looking for me?" Luke scowled. "Hear you pulled a gun on my man Butch." "Butch was shaking down Dwight for money he didn't have. He threatened to burn the place down. Since I'm sleeping here, I asked him not to." "You've got it wrong, stranger. Butch wasn't going to do a thing on his own. WE will burn this place down. We put up the money for Dwight to open this little establishment, and if we want to burn it down since he can't pay us, we'll do just that." "Not in city limits," Odin said. "You got a permit for this land, Luke? if so, you'll want to evict Dwight and foreclose." Luke waved a hand dismissively. "That takes too long. I want my money or my land. If I can't have one I'll take the other." He smirked at Odin. "And I know you got a hangin' to be at tomorrow, Marshall. Got that nasty murderer Surtur locked up an' ready to swing. Wouldn't want to miss that, would you? Been chasing him, what, ten years?" Odin's eye narrowed and his mustache curled around his face in a frown. Luke looked past the Marshall at Jim. "Tomorrow, you meet me out in the street or I burn this place down with you in it. Got it?" Jim crossed his arms. "So you and all of your boys can shoot me at once? I didn't fall off the stage yesterday." "It'll just be you an' me. We'll settle this." Luke smiled unpleasantly and tipped his hat to Odin. "Have a nice trip, Marshall." The Fenris men left in short order. Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Regretting pulling that gun on Butch?" "I don't do regret, Marshall. I take it he's met men in the street before?" "Many a time. Like I said, always plenty of witnesses saying the deputy or other poor sod drew down first. They say Luke's got a sense for traps. Any time more than a couple of my men have been waiting for him to show, he doesn't." "And I gather Luke won't be showing up alone." "Probably not." Odin patted him on the arm. "Nobody'll think the less of you if you're gone before dawn." "And leave them to burn Dwight's place down? No way, Marshall. I'm not letting a mongrel like that run me out of town, and Dwight's place is better standing and unscorched." "I have to agree." Art Frey had resumed shuffling the cards, but wasn't paying much attention to them. His eyes were on the men discussing the showdown. Music was playing again and people were going about their business. "This is our town, Marshall. It doesn't belong to Fenris." "Art Frey, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." Odin looked the gambler over with his good eye. "Siting here behind your cards for months not doing a damn thing about these hooligans. Why now?" "They never threatened Dwight like this before. It's be a very lean time. He hasn't had lodgers, nor I many punters. Dwight and I got a good partnership going. I don't want to see it end in flames." "Do you even own a gun?" "Matter of fact, I do. Damn peculiar Henry rifle. Most people find it's too heavy in the barrel or the stock, but if you know her balance and how to use it, the damn thing very nearly aims itself." Odin looked back to Tyr, who shrugged. The marshall then ordered three whiskeys, drank with the men and replaced his hat. "I need to see to Surtur's transportation. We'll be gone before dawn. I wish I could delay but the judge is eager to put this on in the books. Good luck, gentlemen. You're gonna need it." Odin left the saloon. Art turned to Jim. "I hear you served in the war?" "51st Virginia. You?" "I'm a Massachusetts man, myself." They drank their next shot of whiskey in silence. The horse at the hitching post turned to Jim, as if to ask a question. The drifter saw the look, knowing what it meant. "I don't know what I'm doin' out here, either." The dawn broke over Midgard, painting the town and the surrounding parched lands in pinkish reds. The stagecoach with Marshall Odin, his prisoner and deputies had already rattled out of town. The sound of hooves brought Jim's attention back to the street ahead of him. Around him, the signs of the shops swung in the morning breeze. The large sign for the livery stayed in place, dominating the second floor of the barn on the north end of town and sheltered from the wind. Jim stepped away from his horse, hands held at shoulder height. He didn't want to get shot before Luke Hundr had a chance to get off his ride. Eight men on horses came around the corner and down the street. Jim frowned. "I'm here like we agreed, Luke Hundr." He waved his right hand. "My gun hand's empty. I thought you said it'd be just you and me." Luke smirked as he swung down from his horse. The other Fenris men stayed mounted, and Jim saw one of them was Butch, the beefy face under the wide-brimmed hat leering at him. Nobody else was out in the street or even near windows Jim could see. That was probably a safe bet on their part. Without a word, Luke drew his pistol and shot Jim. The impact of the bullet half-spun the drifter to his right and sent him to the dirt. Jim had been shot before, which didn't make it sting any less, but helped him fight down the sense of panic that always came with it. He saw his right hand, ruined, pumping blood into the dust. "I told my first lie when I was six years old," Luke told Jim as the hooting from his men died down. "I ain't quit since then." "Yeah, well. I may not have the experience you do, but I ain't always a hundred percent truthful either." Luke cocked his head to one side, leveling his pistol. "Really? Do tell." "For one, I ain't alone either." From behind the livery sign came a loud crack. Butch was taken right off the back of his horse, a hole opened up in his chest. The others' mouths opened in shock and Luke turned to see what'd happened. That was his mistake. In a flash, Tyr grabbed the pearl handle of his Colt with his left hand, drew the gun and fired. His shot caught Luke in the shoulder, spinning him fully towards his men. Jim rose behind him, the wide eyes of the mounted Fenris men on every move he made. "For another, I'm a southpaw." The second bullet shoved Luke to the ground, his skull shattered from the impact. Tyr, his right hand at his side and streaming blood down his leg, aimed his gun at the next Fenris man. When another tried to draw down on him, the Henry rifle made itself heard again, dropping the offender. The remaining Fenris wheeled their horses, and two more were shot down as they rode for their lives. Jim sank to his knees. He holstered his gun and raised his right arm with his left hand, trying to slow the bleeding by elevating the wound. Art Frey appeared beside him minutes later, the Henry rifle slung over his shoulder. His clothing was still somehow immaculate, despite having to climb into the trestle of a stable in the dark. "Here, Jim." Art handed him a flask, which Art discovered was full of single malt scotch. He nearly coughed when it hit the back of his throat. The gambler helped him to his feet. "Let's get that hand looked at." "Whatever hand I'm holding next, Frey, it's going to beat yours. I'm feeling pretty damn lucky today." Art chuckled. "I'll take that bet, Tyr. Now, let's make sure you don't bleed to death before I take the rest of your money, too." ~ fin ~ [/spoiler]

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Into the Nentir Vale: Part 7

Into the Nentir Vale: Part 7 — Blue Ink Alchemy

The Nentir Vale is a campaign setting provided to new players of Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition. It's present in the Red Box and most of the starting materials. For a party almost all completely new to D&D and a DM re-familiarizing himself with the latest edition, it's a great place to start a campaign. This will be an ongoing recollection of what happens to the party as they make their way through the Nentir Vale. Enjoy. Previously: Damn Dirty Croakers As the party took stock of themselves and made sure none of them were badly wounded, a loud croak was heard from outside the caverns. Recognizing it as the call of bullywugs not unlike those they'd just slain, the party readied itself.

"I draw my axe!" "I draw my sword." "I draw my... boobs?" - Mike, Ben and Eric preparing for battle

The bullywugs outside were accompanied by a pair of giant frogs and a halfling bow at the end of the rope. The bullywug champion Uggloor had captured the boy when his friends had fled and he'd unfortunately slipped and fallen in the mud. As the party moved to take on the raiders, Lyria tumbled down the ledge behind Uggloor and her daggers found their mark. His minions tried to skewer the party with their javelins, and the frogs attempted to grab hold of one of the intruders with their sticky tongues.

"It tries to tongue you, and misses." At this description, Ben died of laughter.

At the first sign of trouble, the halfing boy fled. Lyria kept Uggloor occupied to prevent him from giving chase. Be it from this focus or the notion of the abuse of a kinsman, she didn't stop until the champion had croaked his last.

"She hit him so hard he leapt off the board!" - Ben

Meanwhile, the rest of the party resolved to deal with the remaining pair of bullywugs and their pet frogs. The tendency of their foes to leap about made bringing them down somewhat difficult. Keeping the bullywugs rooted to one location and dealing enough damage to prevent them leaping away became a top priority.

"I'm moving off the map." "You can move off the map?" "Why do we even have a map?" - Danielle, Eric and Mike discussion spatial positioning in combat.

Eventually, one of the frogs grabbed hold of Andrasian and drew him into its gullet. The party laid into the frog, moving quickly to cut their friend free. The remaining frog didn't stay around long enough to get carved up. The halfling youth, a member of the Reedfoot clan, was very grateful for the rescue. He told the party that his uncle ran one of the many flatboats that traversed up and down the White River through the Harkenwold, trading with towns like Albridge and the farms in between. Before taking him home, the party returned to Tor's Hold to report their success. Bran Torsson was very happy with the news, and agreed to send warriors from Tor's Hold in the fight to come. he also asked Krillorien, on the sly, to bless his house in which many of the soldiers were training, dining and sleeping. He felt Pelor's blessing would inspire the troops, and it'd also piss off his shrill wife. Krillorien happily agreed. From there, the party traveled towards the river. They found several halfling flatboats heading towards Albridge. One of them was captained by the youth's uncle, Willet. He gently chastised the lad for losing his footing, and recognized Lyria as a Thorngauge, knowing her uncle Bobbin very well. The Thorngauges ran a caravan similar to the Reedfoot's flatboats, only on wagons between Stormwatch and Erathgate to the south. Puffing on his pipe and concealing a brace of knives under his waistcoat, he had no trouble sneaking the party into Albridge. On their way to the livery where Dar Gramath was organizing the resistance to the Iron Circle, the party stopped at a tavern. Inside, members of the selfsame Iron Circle were carousing and carrying on, drinking their fill without paying and harassing the staff and locals. Andrasian admonished them to stop. The head brigand responded by saying that the newcomwers needed to surrender their weapons, as only Iron Circle members could carry arms. Andrasian chellenged the mercenaries to take their arms. "Now now, boys," Melanie said as she swept into the tavern. "There's no need to fight." There was a pause. "Kill the elf-men and the shortstack," the Iron Circle brigand replied. "Leave the woman for me."

"Oh, balls. CHEESE IT!" - Eric's reaction to the Brigand's orders.

A tavern brawl naturally ensued... All locations, NPCs, spells and equipment copyright Wizards of the Coast unless otherwise noted.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Into The Nentir Vale: Part 6

Into The Nentir Vale: Part 6 — Blue Ink Alchemy

The Nentir Vale is a campaign setting provided to new players of Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition. It's present in the Red Box and most of the starting materials. For a party almost all completely new to D&D and a DM re-familiarizing himself with the latest edition, it's a great place to start a campaign. This will be an ongoing recollection of what happens to the party as they make their way through the Nentir Vale. Enjoy. Previously: Your cultist is in another castle

Ben: *makes Wayne's World flashback noises*

On the road to the druid's grove, Krillorien recalled a conversation he'd had with Bensun Stonecarver, the dwarven majordomo of the house his father had given him. Despite having won the manse in a game of Three Dragon Ante with a compatriot, Krillorien's father had never lived there, opting instead to remain with his people in Meloravia. Now that the manse was repaired and the threat of kobold or goblin invasion ended, Krillorien asked Bensun if he'd be willing to shut up the house and take his dwarves north past Winterhaven, to work on restoring the Keep on the Shadowfell. Bensun agreed, then told Krillorien to think up a new name for the place while he and his friends were out adventuring. Krillorien and his friends were soon in the grove of the druid. The Iron Circle had, so far, left the grove of ancient trees untouched. A small cottage sat near the grove's central menhir, tended to by a halfling woman and a young male human. Emerging from the cottage was Reithann, spry and bright-eyed despite her advanced human years. She told the adventurers that many potential warriors could come from Tor's Hold to uproot the Iron Circle from the Harkenwold, if they could be freed from protecting their hamlet from bullywug attacks. Frog-like humanoids, the druid called them unnatural and said that by harassing the people of western Harkenwold, they were preventing Tor's Hold from joining Albridge in open resistance. The party elected to deal with them first. "Go, but be careful," Reithann advised them. "On a cloudy day, the mouse does not see the hawk's shadow." The party went to head west down the road, but Lyria stopped. "Wait... what?"

"Is it going to be an indoor or outdoor encounter?" - Mike "Both." - me "*gasp* YOU JUST BLEW MY EVERYTHING!" - Eric "I'm so excited I rolled!" - Mike

They moved down the road at speed. Without mounts, they kept to a brisk jog.

"She's going to end up with two black eyes if we jog at 10 miles an hour." - Ben, referring to Eric's character

The elder of Tor's Hold, Bran Torsson, was happy to see help arrive in dealing with the "damn croakers." His wife, however, was feeling less than hospitable, especially when Krillorien offered to help with the wounded. A few jabs and insults later, Bran explained that she had run afoul of a priest peddling the blessings of Pelor for coin. He apologized for her behavior and for the fact that he could not send help with them to deal with the bullywugs. The hideout known as the Toadwallow Caverns was a thoroughly unpleasant hole in a hillside overlooking the White River. A small waterfall spilled from the cavern entrance, feeding a stream that flowed south to the river. Lyria climbed up the 10-foot ledge first, on the lookout for patrols or traps.

"So if there are any traps there, you want to do them?" - Eric "Maybe I like traps." - Danielle

There was a small guard posted just within the cavern, but once the party was up on the rocks they took the bullywugs by surprise. Amongst the colorful mushrooms they did battle with the humanoid toads. As they fought, stirges swept in from above a nearby pool to assault the intruders. Even with the large insects seeking blood, the party managed to make short work of the guard. Walking deeper into the cavern, they found a large central chamber dominated by a dragon skull. Beady eyes watched their approach and a croak carried a command. Minions emerged from the shadows to fall upon the party... ...and were quickly dispatched. Oozes slid towards the newcomers, and Andrasian occupied them for the most part as the others tried to draw the bullywug chieftain out of his hiding place. Out of the protection of the ancient skull, he did not last long. The party checked over their loot, took a moment to rest, and then gathered their belongings to leave the cavern... Next: The Resistance Grows All locations, NPCs, spells and equipment copyright Wizards of the Coast unless otherwise noted.

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Blue Ink Alchemy