This is my first time writing of my involvement with the game Dungeons & Dragons. For one, my family hates with a passion that I play. I think most of that has to do with most people not understanding what the game is about and thinking that it was written by Lucifer himself.
If you are of the same opinion, here’s some food for thought.
Christian Gamer’s Guild (I’ve been a member of this organization for 2 yrs)
MJ Young Article
Anyway, the D&D group I’m in is starting up a new campaign and I was asked to write a back story about the fighter I rolled up. If anyone is curious about his stats/abilities, ask me in the comments and I’ll post them there. Without further ado, here is the story of Clutch.
As the midwife delivered me and put me in my mother’s arms, those in attendance knew my life shouldn’t be snuffed out but it would destined for pain. The ogre raid on our village 10 months earlier was still fresh in the minds of the tribe. My mother’s husband was killed trying to defend her. Now, I would be a living reminder to all of that cursed day. My brown, mottled skin. My protruding jaw and baby tusks, pushing through my gums. My mother was violated and I am not a pure blooded goliath. I am a monster.
People were not horrified by my appearance. Disgusted is probably a better word. Most of the tribe felt sorry for me. They were not shamen, but they could tell my future would not be easy.The other children would call me names and tease me. They told me my tribe name would be Dumb Tusk or Fang Face. I would run home, crying, just wanting to fit in but the others wouldn’t let me. The young can be cruel, but so can adults – and they have had much more practice at it. And just when I thought my life was turning around.
All of the young men prove their strength and worth to the tribe by accompanying the adult males up to the highest peak of our territory. We have our own names for the mountains. Telling you what they are called in our tongue would not make a difference. Goliaths are very good climbers. We make games of such things. At 14, it was my turn to join the men on their yearly test. The old who cannot make the journey are exiled, for those who cannot contribute to the tribe have no place in it any longer. The young who make the climb are given their tribe name. On the 2nd day of the climb, we were all racing to the summit and for once I didn’t curse the ogre blood in me. The immense strength I possess from my ogre blood had allowed me to reach the top minutes before the others, even the most experienced of the climbers.
At the naming ceremony the following morning, the medallion of honor was placed around my neck. The chieftain said, “Kolugan Thavaema, son of Yulalgan, you are a great climber and surely the strongest among your peers and perhaps the whole tribe. Your tribe name shall be Cloud Champion and you will be known as such from this day forward.” As I stepped back and took my place by my mother’s side, I was extremely happy and proud of what I had accomplished. My mother smiled and me and seemed to be crying tears of joy.
I saw an old goliath get called to stand before the chieftain. He was hunched over and obviously being exiled. I have seen this happen at other ceremonies. A couple of other old men were exiled as well. I ignored the rest of the ceremony. I was lost in the thoughts of being accepted at last and how things would improve for me now.
A while later I heard my name Cloud Champion being spoken by the chieftain again and I was snapped back to reality. This was new. The ceremonies always ended with the exiles. I didn’t understand what was happening. “Cloud Champion,” the chieftain said, “you have done a great thing and you will always be remembered on the drawing walls. You have reached an age finally where you are becoming an adult. Thoughts turn to courting girls and one day to marriage. For this reason, we must exile you too. Though you are a fine man, we cannot have your mixed blood mingled further with ours. The elders and I will not permit it. Say your goodbyes and pack your things,” the chieftain ordered as he removed the medallion of honor from my neck.
It turned out that my mother knew this was going to happen. The elders had warned her but they still wanted me to participate in the test of manhood. It was demanded of her that she not tell me of their plans. She told me later that they claimed to want to do what was best for me but to this day, 5 years later, I am still not convinced. To give me such hope for a happy future and then snatch it from my grasp doesn’t seem like the actions of those looking out for my best interests.
So here I am in Monmurg. The enforcer at the Singing Dervish. People don’t call me Cloud Champion here. Not if they want to speak another word. Ever. Now, everyone calls me Clutch. My boss tells me when I need to throw out some clever guy trying to count cards or switching our dice for their own weighted set. I also have to take care of the girls he keeps upstairs for the other part of his business. Some guys try to get rough. I get rough back. Some guys get what they want from the talent then try to skip out without paying. I take payment in teeth if I’m in a good mood or worse if I’m not. My boss figures I’m the man for the job twice over. For one, who is gonna argue with me? For two, which of his girls is gonna fool around with a 9 foot tall ugly like me with warts all over his body? Any other employee he hired might try to spoil the merchandise.
Well, mister dwarf, that’s my life story so far. Never in a thousand years could us goliaths craft the wonders your kind do and I was taught to respect that, so you got more than ten words outta me. That’s gotta be some kind of record. One of these days, I’ll leave this place. For now, I got a roof, food and a small wage. Beyond that, I haven’t got much. But working at a gambling joint has shown me that fortunes can change at the drop of a hat. Maybe tomorrow will be my lucky day, yeah?
There really isn’t a picture of this guy anywhere since he’s basically a mutt. Here’s a picture of a goliath followed by a picture of an ogre, so I’ll leave it up to your imaginations what he might look like.
Born-a-high forever to fly… Brain activity nil.
It’s being reported that the 60’s music icon, Donovan, is attempting to establish an accredited meditation university in Scotland, the country of his birth. If that weren’t bizzare enough, director David Lynch wants to help him achieve it.
“I know it sounds like an airy-fairy hippie dream to go on about ’60s peace and love,” said the 61-year-old singer, who was born Donovan Leitch in the Maryhill area of Glasgow. “But the world is ready for this now, it is clear this is the time.
He said the university will be located in either Glasgow or Edinburgh.
Donovan discovered transcendental meditation while visiting India and guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1968.
“The Maharishi told me during that 1968 visit that I should build a university in Edinburgh. I went to my room and drew a beautiful dome-shaped place of learning,” he said Friday.
“I didn’t know what to do because I couldn’t do this on my own. But then I met David Lynch, who told me about the positive effects of TM in education. Although it’s taken me 35 years, I will do what the Maharishi told me to do.”
Uh yeah. You’re right. It does sound like an airy-fairy hippie dream. And I’m not the smartest man alive, but I do know that from 1968 to 2007 is 39 years, not 35 years.
I loved this quote from Lynch. Cracked me up…
“For a country the size of Scotland it would take only 250 students meditating to protect Scotland from its enemies and to bring peace, to stop violence and drug abuse,” Lynch said. “That is just a byproduct of the students meditating together.”
I don’t want to kill your buzz, dude. If you want to charge people $2500 to teach them how to be quiet for 20 minutes, and you can find people stupid enough to pay the fee, more power to you. Good luck with that, Sunshine Superman.
This was just too good not to link. Thanks to The Onion for another piece of hard-hitting, insightful journalism. There is some mild swearing, so don’t push play if it offends you.
I just read that illusionist, David Copperfield, is under suspicion of having possibly raped a Seattle woman in the Bahamas. The FBI was informed and has raided his super sekrit lair in Las Vegas. They took a hard drive, a digital camera’s memory chip, and a ton of cash.
What is the FBI thinking? They are investigating the world’s greatest magician! It is David Fricking Copperfield! Do you really think your handcuffs can hold him down? Is there any hope of being able to keep him locked up in jail for more than 5 minutes while he holds his breath and plays the violin behind his back? Good luck even getting him to show up to court. You’ll be escorting him from the car to the courthouse with a blanket over his head so the paps can’t get a good photo… when you get inside and remove the blanket, it’ll be a Huge Effing Tiger that kills everyone.
David Copperfield is to magic what Chuck Norris is to karate. Mr. FBI man, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew on this one. Might as well just drop the whole thing now.
Here’s a piece of friendly advice. Don’t type text messages on your cell phone while you’re drunk and heading towards a moving train. Texting while driving is nearly as bad as using curling irons or applying mascara. I have been behind someone using a curling iron while they’re driving. I have no idea what people who do things like this are thinking! What part of having a metal tube that is 300-400ºF just inches from your head while you’re steering a death machine that weighs 3000lbs makes you pretty sure it’s a safe thing to do?
Texting causes you to take your eyes off the road (or both roads if you’re drunk and seeing double) to see what your typing. Oh yeah, and you’re TYPING. This takes two hands… that should be on the steering wheel. Gosh, it’s been a good 23 years since I took my driver’s test, but I’m pretty sure they would have docked me if I was steering with my knees.
Sweet baby Jesus on a cracker! Can you keep your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel for 10 freaking minutes while you drive home, you nut jobs? Is that too much to ask?
Ka-chow!
Hi. I’m sure everyone was devastated to see the blog off line for awhile. I received a notice a couple of weeks back that my domain name, vonski.com, was set to expire. So, I went to my domain management screen and made sure it was set up to AR (auto renew) thinking everything would be good. This morning, I went to check on things and the blog was gone. Grr.
So, I went to my domain management screen and renewed it manually. Which was what I was trying to avoid in the first place. Sorry to disappoint you if you were waiting for it to expire so you could snatch it up. Haha!
So a couple of months ago I got the brakes replaced in my Camry. To get to the brakes, the mechanic obviously had to take the wheels off. This meant removing the wheel covers first. After the brakes were replaced, the mechanic told me that one of the wheel covers was missing a couple of tabs and wouldn’t stay on the wheel long, so I just tossed it in the trunk. I didn’t want to be driving down the road and have it come loose and start rolling towards any oncoming traffic. That = bad.
That means I have a car with wheel covers on 3 wheels and 1 with none. It looks ugly. I can spend $35 and replace the one, but then it’d be totally pristine while the others are 13 years old. That wouldn’t be a good look either, methinks.
So, I step outside my apartment to go to work and the bare wheel is just depressing to look at. I stopped for a couple of seconds to stare and thought, “I’m one step from redneck.”
Then I thought, “Hey, that’d make a good title to a country song.”
If you don’t care about the Christian music scene, you can stop reading right here if you want. If you do care but have no idea who Phil Wickham is, please continue. If you follow the link to his website, be prepared to be blasted with music as soon as you get there.
Phil is a worship leader/singer/songwriter who lives in San Diego. His self-titled debut album was released a year and a half ago. It was a solid offering – both in the musical and spiritual sense – and introduced the world to some great tunes. If you check out his self-titled disc, listen to Divine Romance. It’s a must hear.
I am generally of the opinion that it takes a solid two or three years between album releases for them to be any good. Any sooner and people start to get the feeling that the material isn’t any good. That isn’t the case with Cannons, Wickham’s sophomore album. His newest album is a must buy for your music library. Every song is good, thoughtful and leaves you wanting just one more verse. For those familiar with Christian music artists, Phil is a tenor along the lines of Kevin Maxx from DC Talk or Marc Martel from Downhere. As far as more ‘mainstream’ artists, I’d place him vocally in the company of John Ondrasik from Five For Fighting or Adam Levine from Maroon5. But, his rich lyrics and fantastic melodies place him in his own category altogether.
Here’s a link to a YouTube video of him singing Divine Romance from his first album. The new album dropped October 2nd, so there weren’t any good recordings of his newer material yet.
