Lasting Victory

It annoys me when I see someone win because their enemy was too greedy.
You see it all the time if you play video games with any frequency.
It's the person who isn't content to take out a few buildings and leave before help arrives. He wants to finish off the building or unit he came for. He is isolated and destroyed. His advantage is reversed because of simple greed. Now his victim has respite to rebuild and his allies will certainly press their advantage.

So it with poltics. The GOP thought that with a lock hold on the country it would be wise to push their agenda as quickly as possible. Passing gay marriage laws, rigging districts to keep democrats out of office, packing their friends pockets with goverment contracts... the list goes on and on.
Like that novice player they have over extended their lines, instead of a lasting victory they must now settle for short term gains while they focus on rebuilding.

The Republican party opposed de-segregation; and the civil rights movement as a whole. And they have paid for it in more recent times. My generation and the generations after mine are staunchly pro-gay marriage. Religion is less a priority for my generation. When the time comes for us to step up to the plate and take the reins of this country the republican legacy will crumble further. Interested only in immediate victory they keep selling off their future to immediate gain. I will admit that players like Karl Rove are brillant, genius even in their use of tactics. They have snatched impressive victories from a bumbling and weakened enemy.

If you want to accomplish something you need farsighted strategy. Don't just plan for your next battle. Plan for your legacy. I'm also the guy who gets his base torched by a well executed attack. But more often then not I still win the war. I guess it boils down to where you keep your eyes.

Coasting on empty.

Have you ever ran a race? The thrill is something special... you can't find it anywhere else. You run and run and run. It's not about beating another guy down but finding something in yourself to push forward. Breaking down walls, ignoring pain and testing your limits. Yes there is another guy doing the same thing next to me, and behind me, and in front of me. If I focus on the guy in front or behind me then I lose that inner focus and falter.

I pushed myself hard, overcame obstacles I thought too tall to scale. Fought enemies cloaked in an air of invincibility. Yet now my pace has slowed. I stop and look around only to realize that I no longer have that terrible enemy to pace myself against. It some moments I let sadness in, I remember the terrible things that happened and the price I paid to defeat it. Instead of wallow I acknowledge this sadness and prepare for my future. 3/4 of my life is left. (at least) And I had better get to work to finish everything I've got cooking. I don't have time to be sad and to wallow and pout.

When I turn inwards I see how the changes have marked me, I alter my choice slightly. I imagine it's something like the starship enterprise. Picard was a badass for sure; but what happens while they are flying around at warp speed and almost hit a planet? You can't know where everything is, what about other ships? You can't keep track of everything in space. I like to imagine that while picard is blasting around space his ship makes little corrections in the course. It adjusts for a ship here, a planet there; perhaps a stray black hole or pulsar.
Life is much the same. The vast majority of people fixate on one aspect of life. They assume that if they find someone that loves them and find a decent job they have it made. It's a sad world that people limit their ambitions to so little.
They attend the same church, talk with the same people, play the same types of games, read the same types of books, eat the same kinds of foods.

It can be argued that humans are creatures of comfort and routine. More order and less chaos creates the apperance of control over life. If a surprise is delightful... then why limit yourself to a set course in life. I'm certain it's not going to provide you many surprises. Simply variations of the same things you've seen and done before. Perhaps it can simple fear. Fear is so very powerful it destroys, erodes, unravels. People keep secrets because they are afraid of the consquences of those secrets being known. People keep silly things a secret because of fear, most often it is a secret desire or lust; why not let it out? Why hold in something because of fear?

I have known fear, sometimes I can conquer it and sometimes I cannot. But always I am better when I do conquer it. Fear of not acting is not a reason for inaction. Delay perhaps; assessment? of course. How does this connect to my title head and earlier statements? Well it's a pretty direct course actually.

The last year was hell on my body. I went from being an able fighter and athlete to barely able to open my own bottles. I had sharpened mental focus which is also gone. Perhaps thinking they would always be there was a terrible sin. My hubris is truly opportunity however. I get the chance to rebuild much of who I am from scratch. I've outlined a plan. Much like me it needs some meat on it's bones... but for the moment it serves me just fine. Running a marathon on empty doesn't do it for me.

The first step is to detoxify my body, mind and spirit.
This is quite possibly the hardest step of all. For 3 days I cannot consume anything aside from rye bread with peanut butter and water.
After that I will add milk and non-sugar based juices. I'm very concerned that I could give myself diabetes with my addiction to caffine based drinks. That addiction will cause a great deal of painful withdrawals. To offset them I'll allow myself a can of soda on the 6th day. I will add food to my diet over time until I have a diet that can support my new lifestyle. Can I eat junk food? Sure. But not all of the time. Can I drink soda? Sure. But I have to drink enough water to flush it out. That could mean 13-14 glasses of water a day or more. Eventuallly I hope to phase such an addicition out of my life all together.

I'll fill in the other details later today. I may or may not post them here though.

Paragon Life

Of my many goals it can be said they all have a single thread in common. Each lends itself to a larger cause: A destiny where I accomplish my life's ambitions.
A life of love and kindness, where I can realize my potential as a human being and as a writer. Self actualized is a good word to use. A lofty goal but one I am certain I can reach now.

In order to ascend to this lofty state of being I need a plan. My own plan has been destroyed. It's impracticality reflects my inexperience with life at the time. My new plans are more flexable, my new goals are smaller and easier to accomplish; each goal scales until it reaches a truly epic size. It brings to mind the story of the young ninja. His master planted a sapling and told the young warrior to jump over it 100 times a day. The student faithfully did even when the tree grew to an adult size. It's about building up slowly.

It's not too much to hope for is it? A career, a family, skills and accomplishment. In reality it would be endless nights of travel to promote books. Research trips, etc. Not fair to a young family or my someday bride.
I suppose without children I could let my wife/girlfriend travel with me. But it's so much to ask someone to leave their life behind while I tour.
Mmm, I guess it's one more thing to think about while I try and scratch out my career.

Balance of Power

I've been thinking long and hard about my beliefs. Constantly challenging and reexamining. A thought a few snags I would share with you to see what your imput is.

Anything in it's extreme is bad. A long held Taoist principal is that excess and extremes are bad. Take for example power.
Lets take a current example with President Bush. He may in fact be a god-loving christian... but power has far greater a corrupting effect then most people realize. Most presidents don't have a lock-grip on congress like he does currently and therefore have a diminished power base. To make matters worse our country was attacked giving him free reign to seize even more power. An excess of power can destroy anyone, even a good hearted christian. The ideal solution is to balance power with power. In my own life I have to learn how to balance my own power with the power of others. Too much and I become a tyrant... too little and I become a slave.

I struggle because like all people I want control of my life. I want to say that certain things are under my control. Perhaps this is a way of psychologically asserting control over a situation which honestly can never be fully controlled. Yet then again too little control and I drift around like floatsam on the swells of the ocean. If I go to battle of course I want to control my enemies actions and movements... of course I want to do what is needed to attain victory...

Control is a great comfort; it really is. Yet control is empty... it is not dynamic and it does not give rise to creativity and spontanaity. The trick is as always in my philosophical school of thought in balance. Sometimes a momentary excess is needed to lift yourself to another plane or to experience something new and euphoric. Perhaps if I become a political agent or military commander I need to control people... but in life that sort of control is wrong and many levels. It's danger is plainly clear, tyrants live in fear and deprave themselves of the basic human need of trust. I would rather discard the need for control and opt for cooperation.. for true leadership. A true leader does not make his followers believe what he believes... he reflects what they believe. He does not order them; instead he vocalizes the words that stir within their hearts they cannot put name to.

All things I quietly reflect on this night. Perhaps someday I find realize my ideal of a world without excesses of power. But I am consoled in knowing that another taoist law works against those evil tyrants... the law that nothing on this earth is immortal or eternal. They suffer from decay, loss of control and power. disinterest and boredom. Strain. They are replaced by those they have oppresed and those people in turn are corrupted by that power until they to are overthrown. Evil is not an absolute, but like all energy it is dynamic and constantly changing.

Bladesong Reprive Part 1

This story is a soliders tale. She becomes more then a solider over the course of the entire story. This is all I have right now and I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to finish it. But this is a pretty good stopping point.


Bladesong Reprive Part 1
It had been 26 years since the last Mordathal solider had step foot in Bladesong.
Twenty-six years of fear and regret; finally melting into history where it belonged.
It was during that battle here in the fields of Bladesong that I: Solem Molani became a warrior. I write here of my own free will the events that lead me into the service of the goddess of my enemies.

My father Saitko Molani was a famous blacksmith; he applied the Kokuran forging techniques to the larger double-sided Mordathal bastard sword, it took him 3 months to craft a single blade, and warriors from across the island coveted his steel. Because of this we lived well and my father provided me an education in both martial disciplines and scholarly pursuits. However a month before my 17th birthday the Keshian war broke out. My schooling would have to wait. Every able hand eagerly joined the militia and I was no exception.

I was of course Mordathal. A race with a destiny of battle, my devotion to the goddess was unwavering. The night before my unit left father gifted me with one of his creations,
A modification of a Kokuran Katana: much longer and slimmer with a simple blood red hilt. Kaitaro the Enchanter who was my father’s business partner enchanted it to seek the blood of the goddesses’ enemies.

I remember the tears in his eyes as he helped me into my armor. I felt embarrassed by his weakness until he told me how proud he was. I said goodbye to my mother and younger sisters. Each of whom would someday be a warrior in her own right.

The Bladesong Militia was divided into 6 units. I was assigned to unit 3 under a carpenter named Silvarian. During the march he would tell stories from previous battles. All knew the Keshian’s were fat merchants; they did not hunger for battle like we did. But rather gold and comforts, Manthos who was our unit’s war-mage laughed and told us in Kesh they considered us little more then illiterate apes. Silvarian told him to be quiet and we marched in silence for the next few miles. His words burn in my heart.
We are a people of the sword, not savages who kill without cause. Was it not the greed of Kesh that forced us into this war? I brooded the politics to myself for the rest of that night.

Within the week we reached the body of the army. Silvarian brought our papers to the quartermaster and we were assigned tents. I have never seen so many men, so many tents or so many swords. My papers classified me a light swordsman and I was given a new unit. Of my new squad I recognized Manthos from my village but no others. He and I talked much more then we had before. I came to respect his keen mind and oftentimes we would spar while waiting for orders. Those orders did not come for another week.

Kesh had blockaded our island and forbid any ship to enter. No navy in the world could hope to defeat Kesh. The rich island spent fortunes building and maintaining a powerful navy to protect its mercantile interests. The malaise of the soldiers could be felt in the air as you walked about camp. Manthos lived in Kesh during his apprenticeship and told me more about the enemy. I listened intently picking over the details of my enemies home.
Those orders were not to disband as many feared: But instead a march to the north.
Keshian mercenaries had landed armies along the northeastern half of our island: A full legion of sell-swords from every corner of Drakkor. During the day we would march and Manthos and I spent the night discussing every topic from politics to theology.
Our unit, the 453rd was split off with several others as a quick response battalion. We would ambush and harass an enemy army moving towards the Moroden forests.

Manthos sat in my tent that night calmly smoking his pipe. He seemed considerably less relaxed then he had before. Finally he pulled the pipe out and addressed me. “Solem. Have you ever been in a battle before?”
I didn’t respond at first. I had never considered if the well-traveled mage had seen battle.
He had certainly never told me any stories of battle. “Once my father dueled a warrior from the capital. The warrior thought himself fit enough to carry one of my fathers swords. That is the closest I have come”

He stroked his wiry thin goatee as he pondered it. “Our goddess does not love cowards, she is a goddess of warriors. What would you think of me if I told you I was afraid of dying tomorrow?”

I opened my mouth to speak. But before I could Manthos put his arms around me and drew me against him. I blushed and tried to push him away. He held on tighter and I protested half-heartily. I gave the mage a playful kiss and he responded in kind. He held me in his strong arms until I fell asleep. I felt truly alive that night, even though we did not make love. His presence calmed my own secret fear.

Moroden was north of Bladesong and I remember passing the Karderong River in my childhood. Our scouts had announced the enemy was waiting on the north bank of the river for us. Several of those scouts did not return. Evidenced by blood soaked arrows scattered along the forest floor. No bodies were found.
Manthos picked up one of the arrows. These are elven he whispered to me. Our arrogant cousins have thrown their lot in with the merchants.

I watched as Manthos raced ahead to warn the commander. I do not know how far he made it because shortly after he left the elves began firing at us from the forests.
Our war-mages acted quickly making walls of wind and raw magical force to repel the arrows. Our crossbowmen responded, as did our mages. After a brief firefight the elves vanished. A handful of soldiers were injured and taken to the priests for healing.
I wasn’t able to look for Manthos because we started marching right away. The commanders ordered us to march to the river. The enemy army had moved away from the river and deeper into the Moroden.

The commander ordered a quick crossing. Fear of a surprise attack during the crossing concerned everyone. The priests of the goddess brought forth sturdy brides out of thin air. The soldier’s mood lightened at this. With the goddess all things are possible they whispered to each other. I started to sing the hymn of the crimson tiger as we crossed.

The warriors around me heard the song and began to sing as well. The sound of our faith filled the forests loudly. At first the commander tried to silence us for fear of giving away our position. Then after moment the song began to affect him as well.
The enemy began to arrive about an hour later. Skirmishers and scouts returned wounded saying the enemy was near. With the river behind us we fell into orderly groups. I lost track of my unit briefly in the mad shuffle. I found them just as Manthos had arrived from other end of the line. I could not speak to him over the roar of the army; I looked into his eyes and saw his fear. But I could also feel his resolve. He smiled at me with his twisted grin and began to cast his first spell.

My first battle was frightening. The invaders came in groups covered by archers. Our initial line held them back. I stood just behind the first line with my sword in hand.
My father told me that in Kokuran you could not draw your sword unless you intended to use it. I remembered those words as I pulled his beautiful sword from its sheath.
The commander gave us the order to counter attack. The front ranks opened and we poured out into the battlefield.

The warriors around me screamed and yelled to the heavens. The sound of a hundred swords being drawn deafened the forest further. Beside me was Manthos chanting his spells as we charged. We reached the enemy line each man fell into his own private battle. Manthos beside me started to blast away at archers situated in the trees. I covered him with my sword. My first opponent came in through the space between my comrades battles. He flashed a wicked toothless grin as he came at me. My sword met his and pushed him backwards into another fray. One of his men stepped on his head and fell; both struggled to get up. I raced over and neatly put my sword through both.

Behind me Manthos cried in pain. The archers began to pepper him with arrows. One hit his shoulder and another buried itself in his left leg. He stood firmly chanting his spells one after another taking down the hated archers. More soldiers rushed us. I locked shoulders with another Mordathal swordswoman and we held them off Manthos awhile longer. They pressed us hard and we started to get swept away from the rest of our unit. I pushed back against the flow of bodies fighting my way back to the mage. Manthos took a sword to the back. His eyes filled with anger and pain Manthos turned to his assailant and turned his armor molten hot. The warrior cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground. All I could smell was the burning of flesh and leather.

I lost track of Manthos, of my unit. and I focused on my sword. My own battles, I took down several more warriors killing them as they came. After a moment I realized that no enemies stood. My heart was filled my rage and passion. Bloodlust.
I wanted to keep killing and fighting but I couldn’t see any more enemies. Manthos staggered towards me bleeding from several places. In his eyes I could see the same passion. I reached out for him and kissed him urgently. We fell together in the forest and made love. I was not gentle despite his injures, nor was he to me. The blood and sweat rolled off our bodies as we became one. I dug my nails deeply into his back causing new tiny wounds. He did not wince but held me even more roughly. After our exertions I laid on his chest feeling the rise and fall. I noticed now in this moment of peace that I too was wounded. We tended each others wounds and returned to camp that morning.
“You are like the crimson tiger herself” my lover said to me that night as we retired to our tent.

A crusade and a valkyarie, and much more.

For those who know me in World of Warcraft. You must know I got into the exclusive Burning Crusade Beta. Aside from that I burn my hours playing Valkyarie Profile 2: Silmeria... or rather I would be if I didn't have better things to do.

You see. I haven't exactly been creative for a long time. Most everything you've read here is a rehash of something or a retelling of an event. Nothing especially creative for at least a year. Now the problem is inverse. I have so many ideas and not enough outlets that it's drowning me out. Dozens of short story ideas, poems, haiku, articles, game concepts etc.

To make matters worse my computer has decided that it doesn't want to function properly anymore. This has driven me back to the much hated long hand. Anyone who knows me knows that I suffer from terrible hand writing. My recent physical problems with my hand haven't helped, although alot better; the atrophy has yet to be overcome. I'm going to focus the bulk of my efforts on my fantasy setting and short fiction. Nick deserves a suitable epic adventure for his return to Drakkor.

I'm counting the last year as a wash. But the year before that I learned alot about storytelling. Not merely storytelling but better application of skills I already had. I was around not merely people all the time, but people with meaningful deep stories. These are all vital in my new narrative. Perhaps I'll put a bit of my short story "Bladesong Reprive" on later to serve as an example.
To me storytelling is what I am. It's an art I had forgotten in my heart for such a long time. Returning to it now is like returning home after a lengthy trip.
It defines who I am in a way that ironicly words cannot describe.

I'm back

Most issues are largely resolved. Here is a breakdown of things that are happening.

Still working on getting my hands fully functional again. But I should be able to resume a raiding schedule again. Holley and I are retooling the Destructive Affection comic. It's now going to be funny.

As for pressing psychological matters. I've taken a great many steps to reduce and repair damage. I don't believe it will be as great a problem as it was in the past. I appreciate the support I did receive. You guys know who you are.

This blog will become more diverse in it's topics as I hope to expand my writing . I'm also starting a new job, this one should be easier on my health.

The last thing I want to mention is a close friend of mine is returning home today. Elder Nick Fowler is coming home from Ohio today. I worried alot about his safety; among other things. It's good to know he's back in Utah where people don't shoot each other for expressing their faith. (Although at the risk of attracting ire I must say they are hardly open minded about disscussion.)
I've started to write a suitable adventure to celebrate his return. I'm not sure what it's about yet; but I've been toying with the idea of a stampede of Tarrasque's. The mythic time sink caverns or perhaps my personal favorite: invasion of sex-depraved catholic schoolgirls in short skirts. All very dangerous.