Lo, there do I see my players…

Getting ready for tomorrow’s game. This has been a long and very complex game thus far. I don’t see any signs of that changing. Except, perhaps, to grow even more complicated.

Moo ha ha ha.

Ahem.

Anywho, I’ve just finished putting together the notes for the last game. Thought I’d share them here so y’all can see what an evil GM I truly am.  (Please refer to previous evil laughter, thanks).

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Players,

Here is my memory of recent events (which could be wrong, so if I miss a point, please let me know):

 

* You guys left the Ruins/Library and swung a little south to hit up Akrim

* There have been a couple of battles, 1.) land lizard stampede, HOOOOO! and 2.) omnivraxes are bad, mmkay?

* Backtracking the lizards led you to a very bad place, with a giant tower made of brass and runes sketched into many, many things.

* After some deliberation, y’all beat feet. There is talk of coming  back at some point in the future.

* Ishan is along for the ride and gives you the rundown on Reincarnators

* Omnivraxes are bad. Vasps are worse. Like giant scorpions on meth with a side of Lloth

*Outside the city, musical interlude. Tim is much relaxed. Minozh has a flash of hope.

* Akrim is a very organized place

* Y’all meet the Orgovians. Between an awesomely fumbled Merchant roll by the patriarch (Oralo) of a particular clan + a none-too-shabby Etiquette/Haggle roll on the part of Tim, you will be given status as “trusted” by the head of that particular clan. ** This helps by giving you a system of contacts. They’re over charging you, a bit. But, in a gentle and respectful manner.

* Y’all determine to go with the caravans to Cymril after heading into The Barrens to destroy ‘an evil lich, oooooh we hates liches, we do!” /tim

* In the meantime, trade trade trade buy sell haggle trade

-> give me a list of what all y’all have acquired, plz

* An interlude with a kind Drow (an Ariane to you Tal natives; you’ve no idea what a Drow is or why even the merest mention of them makes Minozh even scarier).

* A-trackin’ we will go, a-trackin’ we will go. Heigh-ho the killers-o, a-trackin’ we will go!

* They, um. Went that way, boss. There is a LOT of them.

* Ishan imparts his knowledge of their foes: the Za are naughty, mean zoots with a penchant for blood drinking and ritual sacrifice

 

 

I think that is most everything. I know there is a golden beetle in there somewhere, as well as various dream sequences.

 

 

 

ready for this
source: http://cache.desktopnexus.com/thumbnails/1353467-bigthumbnail.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Players, y’all can read the footnote. BUT, this is information that you do not have in game.

 

 

** – he and all his kith/kin are exiles because they wanted to expand the Orgovian way of life by setting up a trading stall in a city. That is why there are so many of them in Akrim. The other Orgovian nomads will mostly ignore & refuse to trade with him.

Choogling

The face of anxiety is varied.

It is a fear of failure. It is a fear of success. It is a fear of never going anywhere. It is a fear of going somewhere and then fucking it up, but good. It is a fear of answering the phone. Fear of not answering it. Fear of rejection. Fear of offending someone, somehow. Fear of looking stupid. Fear of everything, everything, everything.

There are days, even as I look somewhat desperately for a job, that it is hard for me to even listen to voicemails left on my phone.

It is debilitating and exhausting. It makes everyday tasks seem insurmountable. Piles of clean laundry, waiting to be folded become monuments to Everything That is Wrong With Me™.

On the upside, I know most of it is in my head.

 

my head is a dark place, sometimes
my head is a dark place, sometimes

The downside is, of course, that often that doesn’t fucking matter. I can be perfectly aware that my thoughts aren’t right/normal/whatever and it doesn’t.fucking.matter. I will still sit in dread, petrified by the thoughts circulating in my brain like meth-addled goldfish.

Every now and again, I get a bright glimmer of me (as I used to be) flickering through my body. I’ll sit up straighter, start making plans and lists, think about story ideas, put away a few pieces of laundry. All too soon, the energy and oomph fade.

It’s disheartening, y’all.
It’s disheartening as fuck.

All I can do is to keep choogling. I’m too stubborn to just lay down and give up.

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I started that ^^ post about three days ago. It took me that long to finish writing (*counts*) 270 or so words. Good grief.
Since then, my mood has crept back up to a more even keel and I’ve even (GASP!) put away a lot of laundry. Mt. Clean is no more. I feel like I should plant a fucking flag or something. I’m still climbing and there is still work to do. But, I am also not hiding in a corner and praying that it all overlooks me.

I’ll take it.

🙂

 

Peace and flag-planting on YOUR deepest, darkest night terrors m’friends. 

 

 

Clumsy is as Clumsy does

You totally read the title in Forrest Gump’s voice, didn’t you?

 

 

You guys, I have a confession to make. Or maybe not a confession so much as a realization.

I’m never going to grow out of my clumsy phase.

 

 

 

I mean, I am not Cato and Clouseau levels, but I am probably the only person I know who can be actively thinking to herself “I should probably be using the guard on this mandolin slicerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrOWWWWWW FUCK FUCK FUCK!”

Because that is pretty much exactly what happened.

To quote the Jerk, if you are squeamish and don’t like to see injuries or snails, look away.

 

I totally had to learn a new program to insert that snail over my [wee] injury.
I totally had to learn a new program to insert that snail over my [wee] injury.

 

Yep. I have managed to carve a tiny chunk of my finger off. Mandolin slicer is sharp, yo. And that is just one of the multitude of injuries that I have inflicted on myself. Whapping my knees on my desk is an everyday occurrence. Misjudging where the wall is in relation to the door and catching it with my shoulder or elbow is pretty common, too. Let’s not even talk about how many times I have broken my toes on walls, coffee tables, doorjambs, or bare fucking floors. Also, I cook and bake. Like, a lot. I have done all but set myself on fire.1

 

I actually kind of amazed that I have made it this far without, yanno, doing more lasting damage to myself.

 

 

 

 

1 — I have a gas stove. …..*knocks on wood to throw off jinxes*