Monday, December 19, 2011

Vancouver or Bust!

It probably wouldn't surprise you to hear that Magic: the Gathering means a lot to me. For almost a full year now I've been podcasting my heart out, working tournaments and doing everything I can to grow the Magic community in Newfoundland, in Canada and online. I don't plan to stop. I love the game, I love what it did and continues to do for me. I wouldn't spend all this time on it otherwise.

This past year, the Magic community banded together and sent not one but two of our own across the vast country of Canada to attend Magic tournaments. At the prompting of my good friends Jack LaCroix, Jay Boosh and Scotty Mac, I am here to ask you to try and do it again.

If you listen to my podcasts you likely know that I can only travel to Canadian events. As a judge who has no major events nearby, a Canadian Grand Prix is as big for me as it's going to get. I need to judge large events from time to time in order to keep my skills sharp, but also to interact with all the communities that I am working so hard to grow. When the first Canadian GP of 2012 was announced as being in Vancouver, my heart kind of sank. "Why?" you may ask. "Isn't that exactly what you want?" Well, here's why:



Yeah, that's a long way. And it's not cheap. Without going into details, I am not in a position right now to make this trip without your help. With all the podcasting and Magic luminaries, all the listeners, all the PEOPLE that will be at this event, it would break my heart to miss it. So with that in mind I am asking you, all of you, to help me get there. Help me meet the people I have worked with only through Skype. Help me continue to contribute to Canadian Magic by helping to judge this event. Help me meet those of you who will be there and who give me a reason to podcast, to write, to tweet about Magic.

I am currently collecting prize contributions from various people for a raffle, similar to the one Jay Boosh did for his trip. I'll be adding the prizes to this post as they are donated. If you want to help out, simply send a PayPal donation to chris.lansdell@nl.rogers.com . Every $5 you donate gets you 5 entries to the raffle. Donate as little or as much as you can, I will be so very grateful. In the event that more is raised than I need to get me to Vancouver, or that I do not raise enough to get me there, the excess will be contributed to Gamers Helping Gamers, the charity being set up by Jon Finkel and his friends.

Getting to Vancouver would mean so much to me. I'd get to meet people like Jay, Marshall from Limited Resources, Smitty from 60cards, Christine the Elspeth Chick and countless others. I'd get to reconnect with KYT, Scotty, all the judge crew and all the listeners I've met before. It's going to be an epic time and I'm hoping I can take part. Whatever happens, thank you for listening to me, reading me, following me. If I've ever made one of you smile, it makes everything worth it.

UPDATE! The first batch of prizes for the raffle are in, and are listed below. Thanks to everyone who has contributed cash or prizes so far!

The deadline for donating is going to be April 30.

Added December 20:
Judge foil Doubling Season
Judge foil Goblin Welder
Courtesy of Jay Boosh, a large selection of foil basic lands
Courtesy of Justin Richardson, a playset of altered Squadron Hawks
Courtesy of Christine Sprankle aka Elspeth, a signed Elspeth Tirel
Courtesy of Don "The Behoover" Wiggins of Don's Magic and Sundry, a pair of French Renaissance boosters
Added January 5
Courtesy of Limited Gaming, a pair of Planechase Zombie Empire Decks!
Courtesy of Jack LaCroix, a sweet playmat!
Added January 8
Courtesy of Hairy Tarantula in Toronto, a sealed Premium Deck Series: Graveborn!
Courtesy of Derfington, an altered card to be determined!
Courtesy of Andy from CommanderCast, a Savra EDH deck. The WHOLE DECK.

More prizes will be added as they are contributed!

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Do You Have Pride?

Tomorrow, I will be marching in the St. John's Pride Parade. Not because I'm gay, or bisexual, or transgendered. Not because a family member is, or because I know someone who died as a result of homophobic bullying. I don't know anyone who was denied the ability to marry the love of their life, I've never had to stand by a loved one who fought for the right to be recognized as the gender with which they identified. I won't be in a dress, a giant peacock tail, makeup or assless chaps (though I may be wearing tie-dye...) and to be honest, most others won't either. So why am I marching?

Because I believe. I believe that nobody, regardless of their sexual orientation, should be treated differently. I believe a lesbian couple should be able to adopt a baby. I believe a gay father should have the same custody rights as any other father. I believe a man who feels like a woman should be able to become one and be recognized as one. I believe that a gay or lesbian teenager should be able to bring their boyfriend or girlfriend to prom just as any other teenager would. Most important, I believe that all these rights should be granted and accepted as the norm without bullying, without hatred and bigotry, without question.

It's called the Pride Parade. I am proud that my GLBT friends are able to get married and adopt here in Newfoundland. I am proud that my union works so hard to ensure the advancement of GLBT rights and issues. I am proud that in Canada it is not illegal to be gay. I also take the opportunity to be proud of who I am, as we all should be able to do without fear. Being gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered is not a CHOICE any more than being left-handed, black, deaf or Canadian are choices. I'm proud to be who I am, as are the members of the GLBT community. So the question isn't “Why am I marching?”

The question is, “Why aren't YOU marching?”

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Farewell, Elaine

I buried a friend yesterday.

I'm sure most of us have done the same. It's never easy and nobody enjoys it, but this one hit me hard. Elaine wasn't what I'd call my closest friend. We were close, yes. I'd known her for five years and we had shared a lot. Death is never fair, losing someone never feels right...but I felt the need to share with you some of Elaine's life and hopefully to show you just how wrong this is.

I met Elaine in 2006. I was working at ICT, a call centre here in town, and she was hired shortly after me. One of my group of friends, Shannon, was training Elaine when we were introduced. It will likely come as a surprise to none of you that my first thought was "WOW." Elaine was beautiful, no question. She was blessed with a ready and dazzling smile, lively eyes and a light, uplifting laugh that was not hard to bring about. The other guys in the group were similarly taken aback, but she worked her way into our group and our hearts with ease. She was impossible not to love.

As I spoke with Elaine more and got to know her, I learned that she had had a very difficult childhood. What struck me was how she spoke about it: never complaining, never blaming. It was always just a matter-of-fact statement of what had gone before. I believe in later days she forgave the people who made it so hard, but she never made it an excuse for anything. She was however freely giving of her advice and experience, which she had in spades. Never to look at this petite, doll-like girl would you ever believe the torment she had seen.

I left ICT in March of 2007 but just before I did, Elaine found out she was pregnant. She had been in a relationship with one of the guys at the call centre and she was sure they could raise the baby together. I don't want to turn this into a diatribe or a rant but...I had my doubts, and I was not alone. Regardless we were all sure that Elaine would be a great mother. Briannah was born in September of 2007 and Elaine was indeed a wonderful mother. I stayed in touch with her, Shannon, Devin and Danielle after leaving the centre, in my mind seeing us as friends united by a common foe: ICT.

Then it all fell apart.

In late 2008, while still working at ICT and having just been accepted to college, Elaine was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Those of you with some medical knowledge will know that if there is such a thing as a "less-bad" cancer, it's this one. The success rate on treatment is relatively high and once remission is achieved there is a lower recurrence rate. Those are just empty facts and pointless numbers once it affects you though. Here's a girl in her early twenties, finally getting her life into some semblance of order, and she gets this bomb dropped on her. Many would give up...not Elaine.

No, Elaine fought, and she fought hard. Through all the blood work, the chemo, the stem cell treatment, the hospital stays...Elaine fought. Despite Briannah's father proving everyone right and going off the rails, despite having to watch her daughter go to a series of foster parents while she got treatment, despite being taken for a ride by people that she called friends...Elaine fought. I won't sit here and tell you that she never complained, never contemplated giving up, never lost hope. She did a few times, and those of us who were her friends often despaired that she would not recover this time. But somehow she always found a reason to keep fighting. She finally got out of hospital, went home and tried to resume a normal life again.

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Elaine had never been a robust person. The mental and physical strain of the cancer treatments left her susceptible to all sorts of other nasty things. The next couple of years would see her in and out of hospital for various things. A couple of months ago I was in a small car accident and went to hospital to get checked out. That would be the last time I saw Elaine. She was down to a dangerous weight, being fed through tubes and had trouble breathing as the treatments had damaged her lungs. She was still in good spirits, joking and chatting and just like the Elaine of old. And that smile, lighting up that beautiful face...it was still there, and it still warmed my heart.

They took Elaine to a continuing care home a while ago. My travel commitments and the difficulty in getting across town kept me from visiting, but we were in touch often. About a week and a half ago I got the message saying she had been put in a medically-induced coma. Monday, they pulled the plug. I do not blame anyone for that decision; the fight had been lost. The cancer had, I am told, returned with a vengeance. She, like many before her, had succumbed.

As much as I grieve for my friend, it's her daughter that I worry about the most. Elaine's biggest fear was that she would die while Briannah was still young, that she would fade from her daughter's memory as she got older. Half of that fear has been realised. I only hope that whoever ends up taking care of Briannah makes sure the rest doesn't happen.

Elaine, if I can have a tenth of the strength and courage you had in the last 3 years of your life, I will be a happy man. Countless times you brought a smile to my face just by putting one on yours. I told you so many times that you were strong, and you never believed me. I feel now like I lied to you, like I let you down. You didn't win, but that doesn't mean you weren't strong. I hope now you can finally believe me.

It's cliché at times like these to say someone will live on in our memories, but you will always be in my heart. Thank you for all you showed me. I miss you already.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The G Word

Allow me to preface this post by saying that this is something of which I have been guilty in the past. Sometimes though it doesn't take much to make you realise what you're doing, and then the onus is squarely on you to change. I am making a commitment to do so as of today.

Sixty years ago, people said things as an everyday matter of course that would be met with repulsion today. That's the nature of language and also a sign of increase in sensibilisation of the majority of adults to the diversity that exists in society today. It wasn't that long ago that it would have been exceptionally rare to see a man with piercings walking down the street, or a person with multiple visible tattoos. Clothing which today scarcely causes one to exercise the eyebrow would in days gone by have prompted gasps and hasty coverings with a handy overcoat. And of course in the very recent past it was almost unheard of for someone to openly admit that they were gay or lesbian, let alone bisexual or transgender.

I have friends in all of those groups, and to me it really doesn't make the blindest bit of difference what their sexual orientation or gender identity is. I believe the vast majority of my straight friends would agree with that. The taboo of what goes on in the bedroom has largely been eradicated and now it's no different than the colour of a person's hair or, dare I venture, their skin. Even in professional sports, which is largely a male-dominated culture and is filled with precisely the "macho" type that used to have major problems with this, we are starting to see more and more acceptance of at least gay men. No we don't have an openly gay active athlete yet, and we will be waiting quite a while for an openly trans athlete I would imagine, but the foothold is there and strides have been made. Those of us who prefer to judge a person based on their personality and nothing else are winning, right?

Well...no. For some reason, the word "gay" is still being used as an insult in some circles. This is predominantly found in areas where late teen to twentysomething males (mostly) are found, like the gaming community. As many of you will know I am an avid gamer of just about every type, and I interact with people from this walk of life on a daily basis. Whether it be video games or collectible card game, you'd be lucky if hearing something being called "gay" is the least offensive thing you hear in one session. What's worse is that normally reasonable, intelligent gamers who don't use this sort of language also don't see any reason to get offended by it. Why? "Gay people use it too!"

Oh well that's alright then! Let's reignite that old argument shall we? Why not go back to the whole "if black people can say it why can't I?" thing. It doesn't matter who is saying it, IT IS WRONG. If someone is gay then they are gay and that's that, but calling someone gay, or worse a "fucking f****t", because they did something you don't like in a video game is never OK. EVER. The English language has so many lovely slang words to describe these people without having to resort to that. Calling me gay is no different from calling me white or old or bony: it's not an insult, it's just an error. When you descend to the level of denigration and start using the pejorative phrases, it infuriates me not because of what you are calling me, but because of how you are choosing to express your displeasure.

Let's bring this to the events of today, which prompted this post. A person rejoicing in the epithet "Dr_Jeebus" posted on Twitter that anyone who likes their steak well done is a retard. This led to me telling him that anyone who uses that term to attack a contrary opinion on the best way to cook a steak clearly has some issues. This led to a long diatribe about over-sensitivity and the use of the word "gay" to describe certain cards in the game Magic: the Gathering. He ended his rant with an invitation to all who disagreed with him to perform certain sexual acts on his person, which he then rescinded because "they'd probably all love to, so no they can't."

I wonder if anyone, anyone at all, would call a card, or a gun in a first-person shooting game, or a power-up in a racing game "black" or "crippled". Yes yes, some cards in Magic ARE black, I know. That's not what I meant and you know it. Why is either of those any different from using gay as a pejorative term? What's wrong with bad, awful, unplayable, fucking clown shoes or any other phrase meaning a similar thing? Why do we have to attack a group of people who have been under attack for so many years by taking a benign word and making it into something malignant?

For those interested this Dr_Jeebus, who is neither a doctor nor any type of saviour, safegaurds his anonymity on Twitter with a meticulousity that would impress the CIA. It's really easy to make hateful and inflammatory remarks on the internet when nobody knows who you are. We know he works at a card store in New England, we know he claims to be a DCI judge. That in and of itself is shocking to me, because as someone who wants to be a DCI judge I know that this sort of behaviour would be frowned upon most severely. He also has a "girlfriend" who pops up from time to time to defend him most vigorously in a very similar fashion.

He is largely irrelevant, however. This is an epidemic and it needs to stop. We are all people, and things like this should not be used to label us negatively. If someone is gay, good for them! Let's not make that mean something else, something less positive. I for one am done with it.

Friday, April 1, 2011

A little bit of poetry...

We recycle.
The same old platitudes; audible
Comfort food.
Those ain't roses baby!
It's coffee.
Wake your ass up and smell it.
You're trapped.
Sleeping on a bed of disinterest.
WAKE. UP.
Caught like flies in the web of lies
Apathy-spun.
They say what you want to hear, use
Your eyes!
Smell the coffee of reality. The truth
Is reviled.
Feared like a thief in the night,
Stealing comfort.
So because I speak it now I'm a
Social pariah?
"Quick! Kill it with fire! Don't make me think!"
So you sink
Deeper into a mire of deceit. There is
No Justice
When you won't stand up. There can be
No Justice
Where apathy rules. We recycle alright, because it's
The same
Old
Shit.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Idle minds are the Devil's playground

It was a beautiful day today in Halifax. Well, if you can ignore the biting wind, that is. Given that it is Sunday, and that Halifax is rather quiet on Sundays, I decided to take a walk along the harbourfront. That's not really the topic of this post though, so I won't dwell on it too much. Suffice it to say that walking in such close proximity to the ocean made me remember something I saw on an old documentary once: the ocean always wins.

So true. I identify more with fire than with water, but it's very humbling standing next to a body of water that literally could not be stopped if it ever decided to rise up. Earth gets eroded, fire gets quenched, air gets dissolved. Buildings, vehicles, people, animals get swept away and/or drowned. Metal gets rusted. Even other destructive forces like volcanoes are stopped cold by the sea. With the north wind ruffling my too-long hair and my hands tucked into my pockets, I took several lungfuls of sea air (note that we don't say air sea...) and felt very calm and serene. I continued walking, camera around my neck like a dutiful tourist, snap-happy and feeling very at one.

I don't know how far I walked, but I ended up in a Starbucks. Yes I know, big shock. One venti Italian blend in hand, I sat in one of the seats overlooking the junction of Barrington and Brunswick and watched Halifax go by, sun streaming in onto my face. Thoughts came flooding into my head; not the normal day-to-day worries but deeper, more extract thoughts. Thoughts of my son and what I can do to be a better father. Thoughts of her. Write, write, write! Make a difference. How? What can you do with your skills to make a difference? Where am I going? How do I get there? Why do I think in questions?

Some people are able to blank their minds when they are content. They think of nothing, just absorbing and enjoying. I envy that. I can meditate and do it, but I can't remember the last time it came naturally. Think of the things that make you happy, but what if they are the things that cause you pain?

What runs through your head when you are content? What puts you in that zone where your mind switches planes? It's really a fascinating thought, to realise we use so little of our minds. Maybe this is part of our mind that we normally don't use? Without meaning to sound like a braggart, I feel as if I am in tune with many things. I seem to think in a way that most others don't, which is a weakness as much as it can be a strength. My mind goes all over the place but as a result, I can't turn it off and just...be. Really, would I want to?

What was my point again? I forget. Rambling is something I tend to do when I get into one of these finger-flow modes. I've enjoyed today, and maybe even got some value out of it. Isn't that the point?

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Reflections on Japan

I’ve never been to Japan, but somehow I feel like I’ve lived there for years. The country has touched every aspect of my life to some degree, and almost all of my interests and hobbies have a link to Japan.

From the time I read James Clavell’s excellent book Shogun, I have been enamoured with the culture and history of the place. I was no more than 12 or 13 at the time my mother picked it up for me, having seen the TV series herself in her childhood. I was sceptical but having just finished Lord of the Rings I was in need of something into which I could sink my adolescent teeth. Clavell managed to transport me to feudal Japan, making me feel like I was Blackthorne and like everything was happening to me. His attention to the details of daily life while developing a deep story of political manoeuvring and intrigue was the key to achieving that goal, but he somehow managed to shoehorn a love story, plenty of action, some comedy and a thorough cultural examination of Japan into the same book. Now granted, it was 1200+ pages, but it’s still an impressive achievement. Not many books I know can describe the ritual cha no yu ceremony one minute, then talk about two wizened samurai urinating off castle battlements the next. It gave birth to my desire to learn the Japanese language, at least to speak it. My complete lack of artistic talent will prevent me from ever learning to write it. If you haven’t read this book, you simply must.

Well that was an entertaining tangent. Clavell got me started down the Japanese path of samurai, ninja and honour, but it was the collectible card game Legend of the Five Rings that reawakened my interest. Whereas Magic: the Gathering hooked me on CCGs, L5R was the game that broadened my horizons and kept me interested when Magic started to get stale. I haven’t played in many years but from what I remember, it had multiple ways to win: conquer your opponent’s provinces, gain enough honour to petition the Emperor, assemble the Five Rings or dishonour your opponent. The game pitted different noble houses against each other, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. There were samurai and dragons and swords and spells and shugenja and ninja and…you get the idea. By avoiding otherworldly concepts like mana and using gold as your resource, and by tapping a previously unexplored vein of rich material, L5R earned itself a large following. The people behind the game went an extra mile in making it unique by having the results of tournaments actually affect the development of the game’s storyline. If you built a Crane deck and won a certain tournament, the story of the next expansion set would see Crane rise to power. The game also did its best to immerse you in Japan, as Clavell did. You “bowed” a card to use it, your samurai could duel each other and gain honour for winning (or lose honour for refusing the duel). Cards from certain Houses could not appear in decks of other houses…essentially, it was flavour central. I still have a boatload of cards somewhere, but alas nobody around here has ever heard of the game, let alone knows how to play it. Basically L5R kept me interested in collectible card games and gaming as a whole at a time when both were starting to feel very boring. It also expanded my horizons and showed me that other games were out there.

Most of you reading this will know of my love for professional wrestling. I’ve been an avid fan since I was 5, which is far too long for a grown man to be following a scripted sport. Know what? I don't care. It's an escape, it entertains me, it's harmless and you can't deny the athleticism of the performers. What a lot of people might not realize is the huge contribution that Japan has made to professional wrestling, and also the respect I have for Japanese wrestlers. Despite the language barrier, I immensely enjoy watching Japanese wrestling and have since I first saw it about 6 years ago. They eschew the drama and over-the-top kitsch of the US style and instead focus on making it look like a real fight as much as possible. More physical, more athletic and more visceral. Many wrestling purists (yes, they exist. Don't get me started) will tell you that it's the only professional wrestling worth watching. While I'm not that much of a snob, I will vouch for the quality of it.

There's more, of course. I love dragons, Japan has dragons. Japan is always at the cutting edge of technology, and I of course am a major technophile. The televisions, cellphones, games consoles and hi-tech gadgetry that have arisen from the Land of the Rising Sun are mind-boggling. Japan has awesome anime. I love awesome anime. Japan has sushi. I love awesome anime. The bottom line is that this is a country I've always wanted to visit, full of things I adore and a people I admire. I mean, this place got two atomic bombs dropped on it 65 years ago, and is now the third or fourth biggest economy in the world. It's also tiny compared with the likes of China, the US, Canada and Russia. The juxtaposition of the beautiful culture and traditions with the technology and development make it perfect for someone like me who loves the big city but sometimes needs to escape.

My heart wrenched watching the horrifying scenes from the earthquake. The fireballs soaring skyward were terrifying enough, but the waves caused by the tsunami creeping inexorably across the countryside and casually sweeping up everything in their path were the worst. Nothing stood a chance: cars, houses, boats, shops, anything. Mother Nature always wins, even when it means that everyone and everything else loses all they have. I know only a couple of people in Japan and very few people who were in danger from the tsunami, but I'm not ashamed to admit that it brought tears to my eyes. The scariest part of the whole thing was hearing about the small Pacific islands that could have been engulfed by the waves, not just badly damaged. Japan and the Japanese can and will recover, with time and help. And island that is literally swallowed by one of these devastating destructive forces...well, what can it do? What can the people there do if there is no high ground to which they can escape and there's no way to evacuate? And now Japan, a country which has already had more than its fair share of tragedy when it comes to radioactivity, is facing a potential meltdown that would dwarf the notorious Chernobyl disaster in size and scope.

We all have problems in our lives. Most of you will know that I've had more than my fair share of shit recently. You know what? None of it matters. Not one bit. I'm one person...we're talking about entire countries here. Put your lives into perspective; I know I have. I'd rather go through what I'm going through now than what our Japanese brothers and sisters are enduring.

I'm not writing this to encourage anyone to donate money or anything remotely like that. I'm just expressing. I love Japan, I love the Japanese culture, and my thoughts are with the Japanese people as they dig themselves out, brush themselves off and rebuild. When you have done so, I would love a fraction of your strength and resolve.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Writer's...Dam?

As long as I can remember, I've enjoyed writing. When I was 9 and in St. Gabriel's Primary in Barbados, I loved creative writing the most. We'd always have to write about our weekends and I was one of the only kids who actually tried to make it into more than a recitation of events. I vividly remember writing a seven-page story one time about a battle between two alien races, and thinking it was the most awesome thing ever.

My writing slacked off a lot in my teenage years, likely because I was far too busy playing sports and chasing girls. It only really picked up again when I moved to Canada and had nothing else to do with my time. Here's the piece of writing that got me back into the fold and made me remember that I could write:

Background


The Wyrm Ryders are thought to be the stuff of legend on Andrecht, having disappeared when Kal Torak came against the West in the Battle
of Vo Mimbre. However, they are still very much a reality,


The first Wyrm Ryders appeared with the Dawn of Time, when the Gods were testing there powers. Torak had created dragons and made them immune to sorcery,
but his brothers came together and removed that restriction from all offspring the dragons may have. They also made it so that mortals could
tame these fearsome beasts. Torak was enraged by this and, thinking to put his children beyond the reach of mortals, placed several restrictions
on those who could Impress a dragon.



Years passed without a single mortal ever being up to the task. In the days when the Gods still walked the earth among their flocks, it was not uncommon
to see Torak abroad on the great red dragon Incthyak, mother of all Dragons. Growing tired of his brother's ostentatiousness, Belar called to him
Ruethik, the venerable gold dragon and unwilling mate to Incthyak. Having done this, he told Ruethik of Torak's acts, and Ruethik undertook to
be Belar's mount. Again Torak was enraged, and for many years he and his dread steed were unseen in the Western skies.


It came to pass, in the time before the destruction of the Marags, that a young man named Khelin left his home in Boktor in Drasnia to seek wealth
in the mountains of Ulgoland, for as all know the jewellry of the Ulgos is unsurpassed in beauty and quality. Khelin had lived a clean,
worshipful life, paying respects to Belar when they were due and living according to his laws. Upon reaching the foothills, he made camp,
but in the morning awoke to find that his horse had been eaten, and his posessions stolen. Bandits was his first thought, but none dare cause
ill to another in the mountains of Ulgoland, for the Ulgos have an intense sense of justice. Perplexed, he sat on a rock to think. However, the rock
desired not to be sat upon, and he was thrown to the ground. Startled, Khelin examined closer this rock, and found it unremarkable. Again he
attempted to sit on it, and again he was forcibly removed. Disbelieving, Khelin rubbed his eyes. When he ceased, no longer was there a rock. In
fron of him stood a huge leg of steely grey, no doubt connected to an equally proportioned body. Terrified, Khelin tried to flee, but found himself rooted
to the spot by fear. He had heard, as had all young people brought up in the West, stories of Ulgo monsters and there diets.


The dragon, Talak, was equally perplexed. Being young for one of his kind, he had no conatact with these creatures before. What was it? Did it
talk? Talak lowered his head to Khelin's level and spoke in the manner of dragons: "What art thou? Why comest thou here to rest upon my form?
Markest thou not that I didst slumber there?"


Khelin could not comprehend the speech of this monster, but then the Spirit of Belar was upon him, and caused him to understand, and infused
him with confidence, and he spake in the manner of dragons thusly: "I am Khelin, son of Mordon and Layla, child of Belar. I am come hither to seek riches in these mountains.
Forgive my trespass, for to me thou didst appear as but a large rock."


Talak had heard of Belar in the tales told as part of his education, but he knew not of Mordon or Layla. His curiosity aroused, Talak mentally probed
Khelin. Satisfied with the knowledhe he retrieved, he said to Khelin:"Come thou with me, Khe-Lin. My Clutchfather wouldst know of you. I am but
young, and not sufficiently wise in the ways of our kind to know that which must be done."


And so a mortal came for the first time unto the land of Dragons. There was Khelin presented to Toraluk, Talak's Clutchfather. Old and wise though he was,
Toraluk had heard not of humans, and thus was Khelin brought before the WyrmMoot. There was the ancient lore of Wyrm Ryders revealed, and Talak
was asked if he desired this mortal as a Ryder, as it was him who first discovered Khelin in the hills. Talak replied in the affirmative, and thus was the
first of the Wyrm Ryders chosen.


However, the hand of Torak still had a part to play. Incthyak, excluded as always from the WyrmMoot, appeared in a blast of brimstone, and astride her back
was Dread Torak. "This shall not be!" came the commanding voice of the God. "Hast thou forgotten my words? Can it be that my most favoured children
do ignore my wishes so? This mortal hath not Impressed upon Talak, nor hath he passed The Test. He may not ride!"



And lo, Khelin was sore afraid, more the burning eye of the God Torak was upon him, and felt he insignificant. But behold, again did the Spirit of Belar
visit him, and give him courage and strength of Will. And Khelin spake once more, in the language of the Angaraks, Torak's own people: "I would take this Test, and
I would learn of this Impression of which you speak, O Dread One, for I am the Chosen of Belar, and thus doth he defy you!"
And Torak was enraged once more, and drew
he Cthrek Goru, his mighty black sword, meaning to cleave in half young Khelin. But joined the dragons together their wills, and a mighty shield did they erect around the young
mortal. Seeing this, Torak did relent, and spake thusly:


"So be it. This mortal shall be Tested, than shall the WyrmMoot determine the fashion of his Impression tasks. But beware! Should my brother Belar interject himself in thy
testing, then shall I smite thee from this world, and these wurms also."
And so was Khelin Tested, and was found fitting to be a Ryder. Then was he given tasks, that
he may prove the mettle of his character to the WyrmMoot.


"Behold, mortal, the WyrmMoot hath decided on your tasks. Go ye from this place, and find the Sword of Malaket, rumoured to be hidden in the mines of Cthol Murgos.
Return it to us. Then shall ye face Sorchuk, eleven times my son, in a contest of wits in a manner of your choosing. Finally shall you face our servant Keran in mortal combat.
Should you pass these tasks to the satisfaction of we assembled, then shall you be given your Ryder name and be given to Talak. Dost thou accept?"


Even now I enjoy reading that. That said, it was a while before I got to write anything again. I took to Usenet (and I'm sure 60% of you have never heard of that...) and started writing posts on rec.sport.pro-wrestling (RSPW) and alt.religion.kibology. That would satisfy me for a while, right up until Diablo II. That game consumed countless hours of my life from 2004-2006. Here's a little something I wrote from the perspective of one of my characters:
Parental Advisory - Explicit Lyrics

Hey yo. Word to the West Side. Peep this, my name is Carlito-Cool, and I am
one cold-ass negro. Imma tell y'all sumthin right now - call me after a
mu'fukken spaerk plug again, Imma bust a ice cap in yo asses. Naw man, not
no muhfukken coffee! What the fuck you think this is, muhfukken Starbucks?
Biatch?!

Yo, so whazzup wid dis Groundhog Day shit? Check this out, jus' now, I was
wailin' on that bitch-ass Baal and watchin' him go down like a $2 ho on prom
night, and then Tyrael-Pac Shakur floats down on them frizzeaky wings and
starts talking about some stone and an orange door. Go thru the door? Oh
hell no! So I'm like, "Fuck that shit homeboy, I gots me some bling to ID!"
Then, next thing you know, SHAPOW! I'm back here in the Westside hood,
surrounded by them same biatches with bows! Where's Sensei Cain at, at least
that brother had a clue. Man he gone too? Lookie here, I gots my main home
boy Azrael by my side anyway. Whatever man, I ain't about to look for no
answers, I gots to get back to my crib man.
Yo, my brother in the dashiki! I need a ride! Yo, what the fuck? Man you got
a hexclamation point over you head man. Das some baaaaad shit. Man don't be
playin like you don't know me, I ain't gots no time for no baby games. Yo
whatever man, Imma go talk to that Xena-lookin biatch Kashya. Man, I gots
some homeboys back in Lut Gholein who'd pay some serious rune for an hour
with that bitch. With her and her bitches, I gots this market locked up! Yo!
Bitch! You got my money? Naw naw naw, don't gimme that outlander bullshit,
where's my money bitch?? Know what, fuck this. Hold still bitch, Imma bitch
slap you back to Bangkok. Hey yo Akara, fetch my...what the fuck? Another
hexclamation point? Dis some Twilight Zone shit right here! And you wants to
be playin too? Bitch, just cos I ain't into no grandmas don't mean you gots
to be hatin on a playa! OK, some fucked up shit goin on up in here. Azrael,
is like me and you da only negros who ain't on some grade A chronic. So dis
is what we goin do: same story, same muhfukken time, different muhfukken
channel. We goin be the same big pimpin, bitch lovin', West side Stylin'
Tanqueray chuggin', gangsta killin' baddest ass muhfukkers on God's green
earth.
Now. Word on the wagon trail is that dis shitheap is just like the other
two. That albino Corpsefire got hisself holed up in a cave, peddling crack
and cheap-ass ho's. He gots to die for two reasons. One, ain't nobody going
be peddling crack where I'm at. Two, he undercutting my prices. So, we going
find that ghetto, we going buss up them goomba-looking crack whores and they
pimps that keep getting em back up. We goin fuck up them Chewbacca-lookin
dumbasses, then we goin find that albino walking dead muhfukker and put his
sorry ass outta bidness. We gots ourselves all pimped out, my Ice Glock is
cocked and loaded. Yo Azrael!

Is ass-whuppin time! BIATCH!

Yeah, completely different. Anyway, where is all this leading? Slow down skipper, there's more to come! As most of you will know, I eventually got a gig writing for 411mania, and that more than anything is what led to any notoriety or recognition value I may have.

So here's the thing: I want to write a novel. I used to think that all writers could write all things, but that's clearly not the case. I just...can't do a novel. There is one in my head, but I can't organise it into something coherent. I tried to to NaNoWriMo, but I just couldn't progress the story. My thoughts were not translating to words. Is it that some writers just can't do a novel? I really hope not, but it's starting to feel that way.

My writing in general has ground to a halt. I left 411 in September for a variety of reasons, and I don't regret the decision. I do miss writing though. So I figured that since I was getting back into Magic, I could write about that. Turns out I wasn't so good at it. I wrote a couple of articles for ManaDeprived which were met with resounding apathy. That's the main reason for this blog...an outlet for my random thoughts, some of which just scream to be let out in detail. The benefit of my own blog means that I can write about whatever takes my fancy. Today I wanted to vent about writing. Thanks for reading.