In which an Odd Conversation is Overheard in a Restroom

Second in a series of reposts from Facebook notes.

Several years ago I was sitting on the toilet in a grocery store bathroom in my home town, when I overheard a very odd conversation. I was so struck by how odd it was that I remembered it word for word and wrote it down the moment I had something to write with. Recently I found it sitting on my hard drive and thought it was worth sharing. Due to the layout of the bathroom, I never saw any part of them, not even their shoes, so the only impression I have of these people comes purely from sound.

I now present to you, dear reader, a transcript of that very conversation, in its entirety and completely unedited:

<sounds of door opening... footsteps... zippers and then peeing>
Voice 1: Man, Ma Piss Burrns!
< a few moments of just the sounds of peeing>
Voice 1: And Ma Balls hurt too! I think I got That Shit...
< a few moments of just the sounds of peeing>
Voice 2: Yeah, Ah think you do got that Shit...
Voice 1: Ah, Shit!
<sound of peeing stops>
<zippers... footsteps... door closes>

Redemption: A Character Sketch

The man slouching on the barrel looks like a good-for-nothing rascal, if an unusually clean one. The faded and worn leathers and homespun of his clothing mark it as clearly second hand, while his battered and pitted armor looks more like third or fourth hand equipment. Still, the cloths are free of the food stains, and the armor free of the blood stains and rust that one would expect to find on a typical layabout or bandit. At his belt hangs a sword like the rest of his gear: hard used, but cared for well. His face, like his outfit, shows signs of long wear and combat damage. His nose is at an odd angle, and his Adam’s apple looks misshapen. There is an obvious bald strip of scar tissue near the top of his head, and his pox-pitted face bears a vivid scar across one eye. Though the wound has long healed, the eye under the scarred lid is reddish and clearly too moist, though it still moves about with his gaze. And it is his gaze that truly catches your attention. Beneath the perpetual scowl, there is a smoldering, haunted, intensity to that gaze that never relents. His gaze captures your attention and holds it. When he speaks, his voice is gravely and course.

“The Shalyar sect priests teach that in Hell, the damned are given the wisdom and compassion to understand the harm done by their sins. Thus they spend eternity regretting their evil deeds. Years ago I met a Shalyar priest,” he says, fingering the only ornamentation on his sparse outfit. It is a small golden symbol of the Shalyar sect hanging from a worn strip of cloth to form a necklace. “I sent him to Heaven that day, and found myself in Hell, and I have been there since.” He looks away, releasing you from the intensity of his gaze. He stares into the unseen distance and when he speaks again it is almost a whisper.

“Do you believe in redemption?”

He is silent for a time, before adding, “I can only hope for it. Every act of penance is only a temporary reprieve.” He turns the intensity of his gaze back at you. “Because there is no Heaven for a man who has done the things that I have done.”

Down the street there is a commotion, and a woman screams. People look away and hurry about their own business. It is a bad section of town, and these things happen. The battered man, however, is immediately on his feet, notched sword in hand.  His movements are suddenly those of a killer.

“And there’s no rest for the Wicked,” he growls as he strides quickly towards the conflict.

This story was the result of thinking about a discussion on the role of Paladins in fantasy RPGs I had with a friend, before attending Ash Wednesday mass. Another story that once started, seemed to write itself.

The Death of Ceusak Ten-Days

This little sketch was to be back-story of a character I was considering playing in a friend's planned D&D campaign. It probably makes a lot more sense if you know about Ceusak Ten-Days, another player's character that retired from the current game. I will most likely never play this character, but once I'd thought of it, the story wrote itself anyway. I must also apologize to the player who made Ceusak for killing off his character, even if it isn't cannon. 

Update: The player who played Ceusak thought it a proper end to his character.

Further update: I am now playing the character this story was written about in a new game which is the sequel to the game Ceusak was from. The story was edited slightly to make it fit into the campaign world, and is now an official part of the setting.

"So I was fightin’ for the Blodspyd Company at the time, down in the Southern reaches, and we was paid to wipe out a Balkan war band been raiding around there. The Captain put about thirty men under Sergeant Henning for the job, mostly pike and crossbow, you know, but with a handful of double-pay specialists like me. We caught up with ‘em as they was getting ready to cross Eldor’s Ford. They was a savage looking lot, about twenty of em, but we wasn’t worried, ‘cause a disciplined fighting force has the edge in a fight like that. They looked pretty startled at our numbers. We formed up proper before they could swarm us and started advancing. Henning gave the order and our crossbowmen started volleying. Standard shit. Well they all fall back a bit on the orders of this one ballsy fucker with a great sword. They can’t get far though, ‘cause crossing would leave them vulnerable and they know it. But this one, see, he just walks forward right towards us. Bolts falling all around him, and he don’t give a shit. Had this funny look in his eyes like he knew he was dead, and he didn’t mind, but he was fuck-all angry at us for being the fellows would do it. He's just one man, so we keep advancing, but he just charges right in.

"Now, I never seen a man move like that. He struck like a goddamn snake, stabbing here, chopping there. Before we could manage to lay a weapon on him, he was through the lines, five pikers and one axeman dying behind him. Then he was in the crossbows, and they didn’t stand for a chance. We couldn’t turn our full attention on him, cause the fellows by the ford start shoutin’ war cries and then mass charged us. Sergeant stayed pretty calm for such a shit surprise. Ordered the pikers to reform and brace for the swarm, while he pulled all the double-pays back to deal with this one fucker. That man took a full on warhammer to the leg and an’ some big axe cuts to the belly and a dozen lesser strikes, and he still didn’t go down till I chopped his legs out from under him.

"Haw, and that was only after he’d slashed open my chest and kilt or maimed most of the double-pays. He still didn’t die though, he just looked up at me like he suddenly knew me or some shit. Then, I kid you not, he just hands me his sword and tells me that soon I will know. I think he must a' been delirious what with dying and all. Our poor pikers were overrun pretty bad without the specialists to back ‘em up, and it looked like the end for us all. But when those crazy savages saw me holding that greatsword, they didn’t stick around to finish the job. Just lit off across that ford like there was fire on their backs. We was too hurt to pursue. In the end we kilt less than half of em, and we had 12 dead, 15 wounded. And most of them died later, or had to retire. I got this scar here on my ribs that day. Sergeant Henning lived, be he sure didn’ get the promotion he was bucking for.

"Company dissolved soon after anyway and I had to look for work elsewhere. Came back into Orletia looking for paying work, what with that cult uprising they’d just put down. I still have that sword. Best damn sword I ever used. I wouldn’t give it up for anything, and I’ll wield it till I die. Funny thing the way Balkan react to this old blade. One old Balkan crone even told me my fortune for free ‘cause of it. Even told me when and where I’d die, if you believe it, though I stopped listening when the old crone started into some history lesson about god’s razor or some boring shit.

"Been working here and there in Orletia ever since, makin’ a big name for me and my sword, though around some folks I get the feeling this sword’s made more of a name for itself then I ever will."

The phrase "god's razor" is a reference to the many names of The Father of Swords, called Oath Keeper, Sky Razor, the Immutable Blade, dropped from the heavens by god in the Old Times, most recently given to Ceusak Tendays by Crummock-il-Dayn, as he lay dying after the Battle of Carlin Fjord. The blade survives from before history, each wielder leaving behind new legends of the blade.

Trivia Note: the idea of mercenary units composed of pikes backed up by ranged attackers and interspersed with heavy weapons men who were payed double salaries is loosely based on the historical Landsknecht.

This week, on Bachelor Gourmet

Part 1 in a series of re-posts from old Facebook notes.

Today's dish is Asian Noodles with Sesame-Black Pepper Chicken and Fresh Scallions

First, take the half a chicken breast you didn't think to defrost out of the freezer. Being careful not to hit your fingers, slice the chicken thinly on a tiny plastic cutting board. A few minutes hard work cutting will allow it to defrost in a sane amount of time. A large knife works best for this. Spread the chicken slices evenly on the cutting board and place in the microwave for about 45 seconds. While the chicken defrosts, fill a sauce pan with water and put it on to boil. Fail to find the small skillet, and place a ridiculously large one on the stove instead. Pour in a good dollop of sesame oil, and crack some black pepper into it. Take the chicken from the microwave and sauté it in the pan. When the water comes to a boil, put in some ramen noodles you bought a bit ago because they looked like they would be good. (And trust me, they are.) Make sure to fish the flavor packet out of the boiling water and noodles. If it burned to the bottom, it would probably add a bad flavor to the noodles. Continue to sauté the chicken till it is cooked through. Cut the greens off of  those onions that spoiled, and you never got around to throwing out. (Good thing you didn't, huh?) Chop the greens, and add them to the noodles. When the noodles are done, combine the noodle mixture, chicken, and the contents of the flavor packet to the bowl and stir well. Enjoy.

Serves one, which works out rather nicely, doesn't it?

An introduction

I occasionally like to write things, and even more rarely think they are good enough to share with others. For those odd occasions I have commissioned this blog. I won't update it often, and I leave the quality of the work for the reader to judge. So, to everyone who keeps telling me, "you should get a blog," you win. Here it is.

Actual content to follow soon.