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There are certain things a Dungeon Master needs to make the game more efficient. Back in 1981 I didn't use miniatures, just a sheet of paper that I didn't share with the players with their walking order. Even though I use a battlemat and miniatures now, I still think it helps to have a walking order roster and a sheet for combat actions declared before the start of the round. I've included the files I use for this in this post. The picture is the Otis artwork from the 1980 Dungeons and Dragons basic set. My mom agreed to buy me my own D&D products for Christmas in 1981, but allowed me to pick a few gifts as early as November since I REALLY wanted to play. This was the first item I picked because I could hear the dice rolling inside the box. I loved the artwork and the Basic game was an easy way to learn the ropes before tackling Advanced Dungeons and Dragons! Sadly the box that this product came in got squashed one night when I fell out of the top bunk bed and landed squarely on the box. Thanks Basic D&D for reducing my falling damage by 1 point!
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When 3rd Edition D&D arrived with the addition of Feats for characters I thought, well this is an interesting concept. I like the idea of giving specific traits that will aid the players to further develop their characters and make them more unique. As you can tell from looking at the chart or if you played 3rd or 3.5 edition D&D it got a little out of hand. Feats essentially made you ready for anything. I know my players always enjoyed whenever I updated the chart with the latest Feats. The problem is it became too complicated and too tedious even to do simple tasks. Honestly, I miss the early days in AD&D when the player asked to do something and the DM made a judgement call on how difficult it was and a roll was made...pass or fail. Hopefully the 5th edition of D&D will have a streamlined feat list. I do not want to see the Feats go away entirely, but I do want to see a return of the pendulum in the direction of smoother game play, creativity, imagination and daring-do, with a DM deciding how difficult the task is on the spot.
I have worked with some sophisticated fractal mapping programs, but when it comes to designing a game world nothing quite gives me the same satisfaction as good old fashion graph paper. My dad used to take my blank sheets of graph paper to work at Ford Motor Company and run me off a few hundred blank copies of square graph. This graph paper came from The Armory around 1980 and was quite large. I pulled out the felt tip markers, look at the map of Middle Earth from J.R.R. Tolkien and The Map of Greyhawk by Gary Gygax and then tried to be original. Not bad for a 12 year old but the idea of naming my game world turned out to be much harder than anticipated. I called it Skone. Somehow naming my world after an English biscuit didn't seem so bad back then. I ran a number of 1st edition TSR adventures on this map including Vault of the Drow, Expedition to the Barrier Peaks and The Sinister Secret of the Salt Marsh. Yet I also created a number of original adventures here and started off the idea of an original campaign here. The stains are a chemical mixture of Coca Cola, Mountain Dew, pizza grease and drow blood.
Now posting D&D stuff under the blog category Dungeons and Dragons instead of as a separate web page. To start, here are some character sheets for 3rd Edition D&D. See the adobe file below. I will never play 4the Edition but I am willing to take a look at 5th edition to see if WOTC figured out why old timers like me played the game for so long. If I wanted a video game I'd play Civilization. I find that I miss Dragon magazine greatly. I subscribed to it in 1981 and was a member until it stopped running. I used to spend my birthday money when I was too young to have a job on Dragon. Here is a picture of the last Dragon magazine cover I am aware of for #360
Marcus Aurelius said in his Meditations " How ludicrous and outlandish is astonishment at anything that may happen in life." Yet I find I am astonished constantly by things that I should just forgive as unavoidable. A friend gave me a book Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter. I'd always liked Abe Lincoln as a historical figure and decided when I noticed that Tim Burton was going to make a movie out of it to go ahead and read the book. I was pleasantly surprised by how the author managed to blend historical facts with the impossible nature of a world with vampires. The book was at its strongest in the early chapters of Abe Lincoln's life and I couldn't wait to see how the movie portrayed the Henry character that Abe Lincoln befriends.
Therein lay the first disappointment of the week. The movie was a fun adventure for those who had not read the book. Sadly some of the most key elements to the story like what Abe Lincoln's mother said to him before she died, how Henry aided him as a vampire hunter and various friends and associates that he met in his journey to become President were totally left out or completely corrupted, I would guess to make it more viewable for audiences. Sadly it doesn't make it more watchable, the movie is just a shadow of what happens in the book. Yesterday I came home from work and took my little dog out for a walk around the yard. Suddenly she starts barking fiercely. Two of the neighbor kids walked over to talk to me. The young boy who is about eight and his ten year old sister were asking if I had seen their brochure and they would like to do work around my yard for free...or for a donation if I so desired. Those of you who have not met me may not understand this but I am severely introverted. It is not that I hate people, but I am uncomfortable around most people and treasure my private time at home. My home is my sanctuary and I am very touchy about neighbors running around in my yard or mowing into my property or walking their dog in my yard to leave me a poop present. Home is my time to recharge my batteries from the drudgery of my employment. I told the kids to wait outside and I would look at their pamphlet. I found the pamphlet on the back door to the house...we have three ways into my old farmhouse and a circular driveway so I can understand why people have trouble deciding where to spam me with stuff. I read the piece of paper. We are Jesus' Warriors. Our names are Luke and (two other siblings whose names I forgot because I am an introvert and don't pay attention to that sort of thing). We want to help our neighbors. We will do any kind of work for FREE! You can choose to donate to us if you want though. This is all the pamphlet has on it. No list of appropriate tasks. No suggested value for those tasks. It didn't even have a note from the parents saying this was okay with them. I wound up giving them my pop bottles which are worth ten cents a piece for recycling. In Michigan you can take them to any corner store to redeem. It was a small task and more or less just eases my house cleaning. Well, now the kids feel like we have some sort of contract. I like these kids. They are nice, very polite and I want them to like me. However I don't have kids of my own, my dog (Jack Russell) and I are both uncomfortable having them around and I don't want them working with me on other yard tasks. That time is my time to be alone and recharge my batteries. Also as a staunch atheist I would have a hard time not correcting their Southern Baptist beliefs which is not my place nor my desire to do. So while the idea of two or three indentured servants has its appeal to my dark side, the introvert in me just wants to find a nice way to find them someone else to help...so of course I sent them to my mom's house. She lives across the street and is nearly blind and deaf. Hopefully she will keep them busy full time and since she believes in Jesus they will all be happy. I am not sure how I will handle things if they come back...probably poorly. Finally I've been annoyed by some really stupid things I've seen on the Facebook stream from some gaming friends. One that bothered me today was a picture of some American soldiers with a comment, Get behind them or stand in front of them...implying support the war effort or stand in the firing squad. One of the real hobgoblins of small minds is the my way or the highway mentality. I do feel we should give our support to our volunteer army yet the wars they are thrown into are mindless or wrong. We are the most aggressive country in the world and I do not support our militarism which is supposedly only to stop unseen bogeymen instead of a more likely push to grab our world's diminishing resources. So I go to this guy's profile page and it says he studied homeland security and he has been in the military until about three years ago. No employment history since then. Then I notice he has a favorite quote. "Give me liberty or give me death!"--Benedict Arnold. First, the quote belongs to Patrick Henry not the guy who committed treason. Second, this misguided ownership of the founding fathers through poorly understood history and misquotes is one of the things that is killing our nation. We are becoming so uneducated I fear for where that will lead us. Only a day earlier a similar personality from facebook was asking us to boycott Starbucks coffee because they had adamantly refused to support the troops. Sound false? Well that is what an analytical mind would think, and a quick view of snopes confirmed that not only was the rumor false as of 2004 but Starbucks gives lots of support to the troops through various foundations. I informed the guy he needed to think before posting garbage. Did he apologize for being lazy or even get mad that I would presume to show him facts? No, instead he just keeps posting new unsubstantiated drivel. He also has aspirations for Homeland Security work. Just love the term homeland...it is so Adolph Hitler. Well off of my soapbox for now...pray for the children who encounter me on a bad day. A friend of mine turned me on to this wonderful comic strip called Savage Chickens. The humor is very similar to my own so of course I can't recommend it...enough. Click here to start gwauffing!
Life and I take Pablo's words to heart and arm ourselves with as much Society weaponry and equipment as we can carry. For the living, Society technology is synchronized to that person's DNA. In order to use the weapon or piece of equipment the item needed to be registered by a scientist in The Society Armory to that person and will not function if that person were to perish. This keeps enemies from stealing the technology from the fallen. For my wife and me the technology is synchronized to our energy signature. The bracelets that were originally received read our energy pattern and translate this as a sort of DNA that Society technology can recognize as unique. We decided to use our bracelets again because of this and also because we got Society engineers to explain where the off switch was.
We also spent the time the others used for sleeping to do a little recon of our own. I think Fast Eddie's estimate of the size of The Society forces going to Lansing are a bit on the light side. It seems The Society does not even trust itself in the daylight and has hidden some of the forces they are bring to bear in the shadows of the secret places that only ghosts can access with ease. My wife and I discovered that in addition to the forces Fast Eddie saw which include the military forces of The Society, The Michigan militia and a half dozen other local militias, there is a reserve force hidden in some deep barracks who intend to fight as a surprise force tomorrow. We learned that large contingents of Cherokee Indians are part of The Society. We revealed ourselves to a Chief Johnny Old Blanket. Old Blanket was not at all surprised to see us and seemed to be used to speaking to spirits. He told us a little about the history of the Cherokee. The Cherokee believed strongly in the words of The US Constitution and did their best to create a government for themselves that closely resembled what the Founding Fathers intended. The Cherokee hoped that one day they would officially join the United States as a State with equal representation in National politics to every other State. Sadly, "Old Hickory", President Andrew Jackson, and other land speculators did not see the Cherokee as equals, but as ignorant savages who needed to be removed before American settlers did horrible things to them (like steal their land). The US government built forts, martialed most of their troops outside Cherokee territory near North Carolina and forcibly removed the Cherokee. I think the US was hoping for a fight, but most Cherokee took the moral high road, and surrendered without a struggle. The Supreme Court had already ruled in the favor of the Cherokee, so they must have assumed that in the end they would be returned to their rightful lands. Instead the Cherokee were marched on a 900 mile death march called The Trail of Tears all the way to Oklahoma. Some numbers of Cherokee, including many of their greatest thinkers, those who were too old to travel and the very young went into hiding. The Society hid them and protected them and as their numbers grew, the Cherokee became an essential component to the secret military power of The Society. Life and I were heartened to see that our rag-tag force had such a stalwart group ready to fight and die for them. We thought this group would be enough to help us win the day until we stumbled, completely by accident on another hidden unit. Sometimes I forget I am dead. After we walked back through the secret passage that leads to the Cherokee barracks I leaned back against an elevator door. You may not know this, but ghosts have to concentrate so as not to just slide through doors, walls, seats, tables. In order to sit in a chair and talk to a living person I have to think about it. I was not thinking when I leaned against the elevator door and went through it as if it was not there falling about 2,000 feet down the elevator shaft before coming to my senses enough to land on my feet at the bottom floor. I look back and Life is standing next to me laughing and snickering. I make a face and slide through the next door intentionally. We both look surprised to see what appears to be a gigantic gymnasium. There is a huge banner that says SEMPER FI! US Marine Corp Unit 1 Michigan Devil Dogs. First to Fight! As a Devil Dog I ask no quarter, I give no quarter. We see military helicopters, armored troop transports, and enough stockpiled weapons to give Lansing hell on Earth. Something about the Marines still scares me. I wanted to be a marine when I was younger, but I figured I was too short. I have always admired their status as the elite fighting force in the world. We estimate they have ten or fifteen companies of men. Where did they get so many marines? We head back up to our rooms before investigating further. I want to find out who has been assigned to our special recon unit. We discover that our special recon team is small indeed. The team consists of me and my wife, Fast Eddie, Rodney, Franky, Joe, Connie, Tomas and a set of twins from The Society named Omar and Samir. Restless, my wife and I finish packing and head to the transport bay. Dozens of large, square slabs are lined up in the bay. We follow designation instructions that came with our group assignment and settle down at our transport. After a few minutes of silence my wife notices my pensive mood and asks, "What are you thinking about dear? I recognize that look at it usually signifies trouble." I say, "Nothing or maybe everything. I am thinking about the contrasts between The Society who operates by reason, science and a desire for the good of all mankind and our own government who sacrificed those ideals for greed, power and..." "And what?" Life asks. "That is what I am trying to understand. Why start a war, destroy half the world and enslave your own citizens? Is greed and power enough reason to give up on freedom?" I ask. "What then?" Life asks. I say, "I do not have the answer to this question. I look at the contrasts between the groups and yet the conclusion seems to be to settle the thing by war. For all the reason The Society espouses, war is the final solution? If so, then the powers of their ideals are meaningless unless enough people have the will to fight for them". "But what of peace"? Life asks. I say, "Indeed! What of peace? The world governments including our own lived by the principle that given limited resources, military power determines the distribution of those resources. How can governments be expected to do anything but evil if greed and power are the only motivators?" Life says, "The founding fathers knew we had to fight and be vigilant or we would lose our way. I think it is time to fight back. " I say, "You are usually, right, but I am remembering the words from Black Elk in my vision dream. He said, there can be no peace among nations until you find true peace in your own heart" Life says, "You have told me of your vision. Black Elk was not telling you not to fight. Didn't he say children had special insights? Remember the little girl in your dream? She called you a hero! Peace cannot be won without heroes." I say, "I really do not feel like a hero. I guess we will find out soon enough." Fast Eddie interrupts, "Dude, this transport is badass! They freakin hover! Hover dude!! I am soooo Luke Skywalkering this thing! Let's go kick some Tuskan raider, dusty, raggity, ass, man! I hear the women in Lansing look like Tuskan raiders." We look over and notice that Fast Eddie has brought his brother Rodney, Franky, Connie and Tomas. I can see that the other transports are starting to fill with troops. I can see Joe and the twins--Omar and Samir fast approaching our transport. Tomas interrupts our thoughts, "I'm just wondering. I mean...we are all cloaked right? Invisible?" Fast Eddie says, "Yep, Lansing will have no idea what hit them!" Tomas asks, "Then how can we see each other?" Fast Eddie looks stumped. Joe, who has arrived with the twins says, "The cloaking devices are calibrated so that all friendly personal that are invisible can see each other. You are not really invisible. The device just bends light around you to make you seem invisible. The calibration of the device allows you to see others who have the device activated. Therefore it eliminates friendly fire and..." "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!" snorts Fast Eddie. A few of us chuckle at Joe's expense when we notice a middle aged man in robes approaching as fast as he can move. Joe, Life and I recognize Pablo at once. Joe says, "Pablo, this is not a safe place for you to be. You should go back to your order. The special research your team conducts is crucial to the advancement of The Society's goals." Pablo says between ragged breaths, "Friend Joe, It is with the deepest regrets... that I have tendered... my resignation from my order... and have resolved myself... to join your merry band of stalwart allies." Joe says, "You can't quit dude" When you joined the order of historians you swore a life oath of service!" Pablo has now caught his breath and says, "Therein lays the quandary. Before I left with you to see Mr. and Mrs. Archer, you may remember that my tabby cat Mortimer Finx was trying very hard to drink the glass of milk I had poured for myself?" Joe says, "How the hell does your cat have anything to do with you being AWOL!?" Pablo says, "...Because Mortimer Finx is dead Joe! My milk was poisoned and I was the intended victim. I have learned too much in my studies. Someone wants me dead. I think Angelica wants me dead. Since I am marked for doom it is my sincere desire to die a hero for the greater good of mankind. Since I am in mortal danger, I could think of no safer place then to be next to the Archers." I say, "Do not fight over this Joe. If Pablo wants to die a hero, I am sure he will not be the only one to do so this day. Let him stay." Fast Eddie says, "Alrighty then! Let's fire this bird up; the others are leaving for Lansing without us!" WHOOOOOOSSHHH!!!! The transporter whips down the corridor at speeds approaching three hundred miles per hour. "YEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!" bellows Fast Eddie. Only Society technology which apparently includes gravity dampeners and anti-barfing technology saved our recon crew from an early exit from all the excitement to come. We come to an abrupt halt after only ten minutes of travel. Heavy overgrowth prevents our transport from leaving the tunnel system and exiting into the daylight above. It is going to be a difficult march for our recon group just to reach the surface. Transports for the main forces went in several different directions as part of the overall combat strategy. As my group nears one of the exits, I notice a series of government recruitment signs imploring citizens to join the decontamination squads. From what I read in The Society's library archives the decontamination squads were initially volunteer citizen units drawn by a sense of patriotic duty to aid the government in the removal of biological and nuclear contamination launched from Canada and Mexico in a feeble attempt to stop US military aggression. According to records 97% of volunteers did not survive a year of service. Now the government uses prisoners of war, rebels, and innocent citizens captured specifically to fill the decon squads for the short-life term task. Clearing my head of these dark thoughts I emerge with my motley group of recon commandos into the seemingly bright light of a cloudy Michigan day in Lansing, ready to make history. Detroit was once the Capitol of Michigan, but Michiganders were worried that British forces would attack the city from Windsor and repeat what they had accomplished in Washington DC, burning down the Capitol building and bloodying some American noses. The citizens of Michigan wanted to move the Capitol further west to avoid these imperial entanglements. Cities like Ann Arbor and Jackson wanted to be the new Capitol and the political fighting was so fierce that the undeveloped woodlands where Lansing would be built were chosen to end the bickering. Everyone laughed because only a scattering of small villages existed in that territory. Still, the area where the Capitol building now stands in Lansing is surrounded by the Grand River. This would have made it very defensible in the early days of settlement. For The Society forces and their secret series of underground tunnels the river was not an issue except for the extraction of some of the larger military vehicles. Some of The Society's forces emerged near Waverly Hills Golf course; some emerged near the gravel pit north of the capitol; our band emerged next to the old Oldsmobile factory south of the Capitol building. Fast Eddie's Michigan militia forces are hidden inside the old factory and are under the command of Mrs. Donna Ivanova. Our recon group has climbed to the roof of the old factory for a better look. My wife is carefully examining our map when suddenly Tomas starts coughing terribly. Quickly Fast Eddie retrieves his blunt from Tomas' shaky hand with an apologetic look. Rodney looks at his brother and says, "Really? Was that necessary?" Eddie grins widely and says, "Chill bro, the kid needed a toke for his nerves. Sheesh, the first words you say to your dear brother since The Society fixed you is um...don't do drugs! To think I was willing to sacrifice my spleen to save you!!" Life says, "FOCUS!!!" The team silently checks their gear, adjusts devices and prepares for our mission. The twins are scanning the horizon with special binoculars created by The Society. One of the twins...Omar I think, says, "Michigan State University was destroyed during the battle to control Lansing. The governor's mansion and quite a few other buildings were destroyed at the same time. The Capitol building survived and is now used for all government activities. They added two giant wings to the building. On internal scan setting, the binoculars reveal that there is quite a bit of military hardware in those new wings. Looks like most of the local citizens are living outside the river zone to the East of the Capitol. I don't see any troops, other than some small patrols. Then again, the binoculars are better at picking up metal objects than people on internal scan view." Life says, "The map shows that a steam tunnel runs from this factory all the way to the Capitol building. If we are lucky we can split our team at the point marked X on the map. There my group will focus on intelligence gathering and if need be the elimination of key assets. Rodney, your team will make your way to the server network and do what you can to eliminate automated combat systems, communications and power to the building. Any questions? Then MOVE!!" Life finds the entrance to the steam tunnel a short time later and we squeeze through the opening into a dark, claustrophobic series of tunnels complete with stagnant water on the floor, cobwebs, rats and cockroaches. I say, "Any phobias we missed in this space?" A few nervous chuckles and the heavy scent of Fast Eddie's pot smoke are the only answers to my question. Following the map, we wind our way closer to the State Capitol building. Everyone halts and takes defensive positions as we close on a chamber filled with coffin sized crates. Some of the crates are open and contain combat robots. Their heads are covered to give them the cosmetic appearance of Arnold Schwarzenegger from the Terminator movie. The exoskeletons are not nearly as sophisticated as the movie version and are not at all life-like, but the machine guns in their hands look deadly enough. The crates are stuffed with packing bubbles as if these robots were readied for shipment. After a tense minute, we determine they are not activated or maybe are not even complete and carefully enter the room. Weapons drawn and back to back we walk into the room. Life motions for us to head to the exit beyond the room, and we make our way in that direction. As he is leaving, Tomas says, "Hasta la vista baby!" Connie says in a terse voice, "Shhhhh!" Then we hear POP-SNAP-POP-SNAP-POP-SNAP like a firecracker going off. Pablo lets out a howl. Startled by the shipping bubbles he stepped on; he stumbles into the side of one of the crates shaking it slightly. Nothing happens. We motion Pablo and his wing man Franky to run. Suddenly a dozen of these robots activate from various locations in the room. One of them grabs Franky by the arm and says in Arnold's thick accent, "Surrender or die." Franky drops his weapon, Pablo is frozen in place quivering, but before Franky's weapon hits the floor, Life unleashes a series of blows to the robot sending sparks and its head flying. The main body thrashes around for a few seconds before crashing loudly on the floor. Fast Eddie and Rodney grab Pablo and Franky and pull them out of the room. Connie and Tomas fire their weapons at one of the robots. The beam of energy hits the robot, causing it to hesitate and then fall in a heap of sparks to the ground, smoke billowing thickly from its battery pack. One of the robots fires its heavy machine gun at the twins as it howls a war cry in Arnold's voice. I hesitate for precious seconds. Fear is my ally and these are fearless automatons. Lacking the combat expertise of my wife, I find a robot that is partially stuck in its box and fire my disruptor gun at it. A beam of energy strikes the robot, and it ceases its efforts to free itself. I look up to see where I can help and notice my wife is fighting three robots with a pile of three disabled combat robots at her feet. Perhaps a dozen more of these mock-terminator machinations have sprung to life. The twins yell, "Everyone clear the room!" A flurry of lightning fast katana blows from my wife and the pile of Arnold heads grows by three. She becomes a blur and is standing alongside us as the last of our companions clear the room. Machine gun fire causes us to hit the deck and take cover on the other side of the exit. The sound of the bullets ricocheting off the wall is deafening. The twins yell in unison, "Fire in the hole!" and toss two grenades into the room. Samir is struck by a bullet in the shoulder. Both of them look at our group and yell, "RUN!" Without hesitation we run until a blast from the chamber throws us to the floor with a deafening boom. When it becomes clear that no robots are following, Fast Eddie barks, "Report! Any casualties?" Samir chirps "Shoulder wound sir! It just grazed me. I'll be fine." Franky says, "Sir I think that thing broke my arm. I can't move it." Fast Eddie and Rodney prepare a sling for Franky and clean and dress Samir's wound. Omar gives both injured men an injection which he says will accelerate healing. Life looks over at Joe and says sarcastically, "Are you sure you are okay Joe? I hope you are not suffering war fatigue from your efforts?" Joe answers, "You were handling it fine without me. Don't worry sista, I got your back if you need me." Pablo interrupts, "I am very sorry. I am an idiot. All I had to do is look down at my feet and I could have avoided all this. I will make this up to you." Fast Eddie looks at Pablo, "You are part of this team. Shit happens. Get over it now. We are all doing our best and I am sure you will get your chance to contribute." Wordlessly we continue down the passage, more vigilant this time. Life leads us through the rest of the maze of tunnels without incident and stops in front of a wall. There is a series of hand holds drilled into the wall leading up about a hundred feet to a manhole cover. Life says, "That is the way into the Capitol building. I will make sure it is clear and then motion the rest of you to follow me. Stick to the plan and keep silent until I call for you". We watch as she quickly shimmies up the hand holds and disappears through the manhole. The wait for her return is uncomfortable and has everyone fidgeting. Finally, she lifts the manhole cover off and motions for us to climb up. After climbing the hand holds and going through the manhole we emerge on a mezzanine level. We are in the middle of a hallway wide enough for two men to stand next to each other shoulder to shoulder. Life is looking over the handrail to the hallway, surveying the massive Great hall below. She quickly motions for us to remain silent. Satisfied for the moment, Life instructs us, "Rodney you take Omar, Samir, Tomas and Connie to the server rooms. Head North and you should find the server room at the end of the hall to the right. My husband, Eddie, Joe, Pablo, Franky and I will head south. Stealth is paramount! Remain silent and undetected as long as possible! " Without a word Rodney's team pads off in the direction of the server room. My group heads South in search of anything that can help us disrupt the government and turn the battle in our favor. Eddie and I take the lead. Franky and Joe follow closely behind. Trying not to be in the way, Pablo follows Franky and Joe but not too closely. Life takes the rear position on the lookout for enemy positions. We pass several doors but upon quick inspection elect to continue along the narrow hallway. We come to a set of double doors near the end of the hallway locked with a security key card system. Fast Eddie and I inspect the system and Eddie pulls out a bypass key he picked up from the Society's technology depot. We hear loud voices coming from the Great Hall below our level. One of the voices says, "Governor I assure you by the end of the day the rebel threat and the secret society that have plagued us these many years will be no more." Joe's face lights up in recognition of the voices below and he reaches for his pistol. Just then we hear a groan from behind us as a blue pulsing grenade rolls near us. Pablo has fallen to his knees; his left arm clutching a strange device is lying in a pool of his own blood to the left of his torso. His right arm is extended toward us in a throwing motion. A katana pierces through his chest from his back as Life towers over him. The grenade discharges and our cloaking devices and all society powered items instantly fail. Life screams at Pablo, "What have you done!!" The grenade also disrupted Pablo's technological advantages and his disguise shatters like a mirror dropped from a great distance revealing the visage of Angelica Campton, the elder spokeswoman from The Society. Knowing her life is ending Angelica whispers in short breaths, "I've done my patriotic duty and ended your little freak show rebellion. I have called...him. The US government must endure at all costs! We will again be one people...under...God...surrender peacefully and perhaps the governor will show...mercy." With those words uttered Angelica slumps to the floor parting ways with the living with a thin smile upon her blood stained lips. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! We are distracted away from Angelica by Joe who is firing rounds from his pistol over the handrail at the people below. As he continues to fire off rounds Joe says, "I recognize that voice you bastard! You are the one who invited me to the Wooden Nickel! You killed me you bastard and now you will dance with me in death!" A voice from below shouts, "The Governor and First Lieutenant are down! Up on the mezzanine, take out those snipers!" A fury of machine gun fire strikes Joe. Realizing his Society weapons are useless, Eddie pulls his M16 from a shoulder strap and unleashes suppression fire on the crowd below. Franky heads to the key card security box and attempts to hot wire it manually. A strong energy source overwhelming with malevolence draws my attention to where Angelica's body has fallen. Standing behind my wife is an oily black figure wrapped in dark cowls like some dark abbot from a horror movie. His blades enter and exit her body rapidly like some twisted over-sized sewing needle stuck on the pattern of my wife's torso. An instant later and she is gone, vanished as if she had never existed and all that remains is the gleeful grin of this dark assassin, mocking me with a vehemence that can only be matched by the intensity of my own eyes. Faster than thought I am upon this Grim Reaper blocking his blades and his venomous smirk with my own phantasmal attacks. The incredible power of his blows temporarily stuns me and I am forced to give ground. The assassin says mockingly, "Now you will join your wife, chosen one in sweet oblivion." I feel myself relaxing, giving in to despair, losing my hold on this place and time and then I think upon the fierce fighting spirit of my wife and seem to draw from some deep reserve within me. I shove my hands deep within the oily dark cowl and say, "I am revenant, and I am revenge. You are the one who shall be purged from this place. May your spirit rot in a soup of its own foulness!" I reach into his soul and squeeze with all the intensity of the vengeful spirit I am prophesied to possess. With an unnatural scream of anguish and disbelief the foul assassin is vanquished by my hands. For a moment I am dimly aware of gunfire nearby, Franky yelling "I'm in" , alarms announcing intruders echoing down the hall and the deep sound of concussion bombs going off outside. Then the blind fury of revenge takes over and I become death to all who encounter me. "Stop! Mr. Archer! NO! Please don't kill me!" pleas Tomas. My vision clears and I notice that my black oily arm has Tomas lifted off the ground and his face is white as a ghost. My black oily arm is like HIS arm, the dark assassin who took my dear wife away from me. My brow furls in anger, grief and frustration and I slowly lower Tomas to the ground just as he passes out and just as Connie runs out of bullets from the clip he is unloading into my back. Connie rushes to Tomas' aid and says, "Please ifin there be any gods left on this dark rock, give the boy another chance." As if in answer, Tomas clutches at his throat coughing violently and takes in a few breaths of air. Connie looks at me in disgust, "You coulda kilt the boy ya stupid ghoul!" I ignore Connie. We are in a large server room filled with acrid smoke. All of the computer panels are badly damaged. Dim backup lights are the only source of light in this chamber. A score of men in black swat-style military uniforms lie dead near the doorway to this room, looks of pure terror etched into their faces. "What happened?" I ask in a monotone voice. Rodney answers, "We were busy destroying the servers when I noticed the volume was turned on a radio attached to a charger along the wall of this room. There was a voice coming over the radio. At first it sounded like Pablo but then changed to the voice of Angelica. She was whispering and speaking in some sort of code. I heard her say to send the revenant and have it hone in on her tracking device. She said kill all the ghosts first. I assumed when she said revenant she was talking about you. Then we heard gunfire outside and alarms going off. We assumed we were out of time and so we began destroying the servers with weapons and acid injections. Before we were done the SWAT team arrived, broke down the door and demanded we surrender. We were completely outgunned so we dropped our weapons. They were in the process of interrogating us when you arrived. You were the devil incarnate. You sizzled and popped an oily mass of destruction. Your only words, "my life is gone, now you will forfeit yours." When you had finished them off you turned on us and nearly killed poor Tomas." "Mrs. Archer was destroyed by a foul assassin that looked much like I do. Her last act was destroying Angelica, who had been disguised to look like the historian Pablo. Life must have recognized that Angelica was using a device to give our position away when she severed Angelica's arm. Realizing the ruse was up; Angelica tossed a Society grenade at us which glowed with a bluish light. Suddenly none of our Society technology worked. Everything became chaos, Joe was firing his gun at people below us, we were trying to gain access to a secure door and then a dark wraith destroyed my dear Life. I filled with uncontrollable rage and remember nothing after that moment until I heard Tomas' pleas for his life." I say. Rodney says urgently, "We need to get out of here. We felt several tremors that suggest this building is becoming unstable. We've done what we can to disable the drones and whatever else is powered by these servers. The battle must have started outside by now as we've heard some thunderous explosions for the last twenty minutes or so." As if to mirror Rodney's statement an explosion rocks the building and all the glass windows explode in a hail of shards. Rodney's group was mostly protected by the walls of servers, but we take this as our cue to get moving. Tomas is well enough to walk on his own and with the aid of Connie he is back on his feet. We exit the door and see that the main hall is on fire. A trail of dead soldiers dressed in black act as bread crumbs back to the scene where I lost my wife and my reason. Angelica's body is still here but no trace of the other members of Eddie’s group remains. The mezzanine hallway shakes uncomfortably. We decide to exit the way we entered and head back to the old factory to survey the battlefield. I find that I am having great difficulty focusing on protecting the group as my mind drifts. I need to kill the pain of loss that is there on the edge of my mind. It is my desire to kill it by unleashing the dark beast within me. Why should I care who suffers? Who is left who cared about me? What has this time and place done to my benefit? There is no freedom, no liberty, only death upon death upon death and I am death's champion. We pass quickly through the farcical terminator robot room now transformed into the scrap rubble of burned crates, melted masks and twisted metal. The Society grenades had a devastating effect on this room. The room smolders with thick smoke and a few small fires. My wife displayed amazing skill in that room. The terminators had no chance against her furious blades. I had such pride in her. She was at her best when tackling impossible tasks and I was fortunate to be able to follow her lead. Now she is gone. My incompetence in battle cost her the phantasmal existence we both shared. I should not have been distracted by Joe. The damn fool was going to get killed sooner or later. I should have been by my wife's side. As a team we were unmatched. Now there is only emptiness. We were blessed with some great years together and even some time after death and yet now I doubt my ability to remember completely how she looked, what she sounded like, how she felt. As I think about this my heart fills with rage. What if there are more revenants about? They must be destroyed. They must suffer. All who would side with injustice must die. Briefly I look back at my companions who are continuing at a brisk pace back to the factory. I sift into the darkness and melt through the walls. My rage burns as I increase my velocity. My only thought...destroy all life that gets in my path. This is my first war. It is difficult for someone who has been in a war to describe it to others. When I emerged from the building complex to unleash my fury I was not prepared to witness what I saw that day. Some of the rage drained from my body as I surveyed the battlefield. The dying and wounded writhed on the ground like thousands of white maggots hidden under a half rotted raccoon on the side of the highway, all seeking to escape the scorching sunlight and return to the feast. Just as a bare patch in the lawn is filled with the wind sown grass in hopes of renewal, so were the bodies of the dead strewn upon the grounds near the Capitol building. A thousand probes have crashed to the ground, rendered inoperable by Rodney's team, but just as evident they cost The Society many brave people. Somehow The Society's cloaking devices were disabled ending that hoped for advantage. The forces from Lansing have been bolstered by forces from Illinois and Ohio. Some of the Lansing forces are using Society technology. I notice that The Society forces are weakened in three areas where a dark revenant has joined the battle on the side of Lansing. How many of my brethren exist? I rush to meet the closest one. A nearby Michigan militia man implodes in front of me, struck by a microwave weapon attached to a tank. I reach for the weapon and twist it into a useless lump. The distraction allows the other revenant the opportunity to attack me first with a powerful thrust to my spine. I have grown powerful from my encounter with the dread assassin who killed my wife. I say, "I know not what manner of tragedy produced you. I do not care. You have sided on the wrong side of history today and I have no patience or mercy for your kind. If you have someone you still love, something you still care for, I offer you the gift of a moment to think upon it, for your time is at an end." Enraged, the dark wraith attacked me, but true to my word I ended this one quickly, draining its force into my own form. The malevolent force from the wraith fills me with bitter hatred and I dance a dark waltz of death to any who stand between myself and the remaining two revenants. Four ghosts and two revenants later, I have a moment to focus on the chaos and destruction around me. Each dark spirit I have drained has hardened me. Whoever or whatever I was before today is no longer important to me. What matters is victory at any cost. I shall not rest until none oppose my might. These unwashed masses are but playthings to me. They wasted their living years in selfish pursuits, unable or unwilling to live up to their potential. Soon they will all be lost in the pointless cycling of death. I am a god among them. I have transcended death and now I choose who shall have life and who shall be damned with me. I think what I find most pathetic is the war leaders so eager to push the youngest and most green of the fighters into the mouth of certain death, all due to some intuition that doing so will give them an advantage in the battle. As the missiles fly, the rifles fire and the bombs go off these green soldiers are picked off like insects and I am forced to witness the cycling of their last moments as they become ghosts. Those who survive look up at the inexperienced lieutenants with scorn. Some of the more veteran soldiers throw grenades at some of their worst leaders, at least for the moment slowing the tide of death. Three days later the final stages of the battle for Lansing has commenced. My rage has finally subsided and I have rejoined what remains of The Society's forces. Here and there you can still hear the cries of the dying and wounded and the occasional firing of a mortar, assault rifle or pulse weapon. Both sides are pitching for one decisive battle. Ivanova, Fast Eddie and most of his team have somehow survived the three day battle and have rallied as the leaders of the majority of the allied militia and Society forces. The break in the fighting has allowed Society medics to save many of their wounded. The probes injected their paralytic attacks on many soldiers. Many of those soldiers have been saved. Thanks to the advanced medicine the Society can employee many of the wounded have returned to the battlefield eager to put an end to the tyranny imposed by the State of Michigan. During the initial combat the fighting style of the Cherokee and Michigan Devil Dogs has proven legendary as they joined together to form an elite force. Tales of their heroism will be told for many years, if there are any survivors this day. That elite force has taken positions in plain sight, often burying themselves in the ground or hiding among the trees to aid in concealment. They use a Society masking agent that hides their heat signature from infrared detectors which makes them nearly invisible to probes. It has been rumored that reinforcements from Grayling are headed this way. Grayling means more tanks and jet fighters. The Jets will have pilots which mean no disabled servers will ground them. The rumors and general murmuring of the nervous forces is finally put to an end as the first of the Jet fighters streak over our positions. The jet fighters fire a savoy of missiles and bullets into our ranks scattering units and ending lives as if they were a tiny flame on a candle stub blown out by an unexpected breeze. Next is the roar of the Lansing infantry with their troop transports and the remains of the armored brigade. Their charge is met by the hidden elite forces of Cherokee and marines ending the Infantry charge abruptly. The surprise and intense counter-attack results in a quick retreat of those Lansing forces and then a panicked route as the Society forces concentrate their advanced weapons on the troop transports and tanks. A short-lived whoop and hur-rah comes and goes as we notice a strong tremor that causes what remains of the capitol building to collapse inward. The tremor grows more intense and then we hear a booming voice come over a loudspeaker. "Lucifer was the first to rebel. Then Adam and Eve rebelled against God. People are born sinful and rebellion is a sin and an affront to God. Isaiah 1:2 Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the LORD hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. They rebel against authorities Wives against their husbands Children against their parents Church members against pastors Citizens against the police Students against teachers They rebel against the scriptures - Job 24:13; Ps. 107:11. They rebel against the Spirit of God - Isa. 63:10. Surrender to the authorities, lay down your arms and you shall witness the mercy and compassion of your God. For all those who have sinned can yet be saved as long as they allow God into their bosoms while yet they live." I recognize the voice immediately as that of Pastor Kelley. I can feel the rage start to boil within me when the origin of the tremors becomes apparent. A leviathan not shaped as the whale in the biblical Jonah story, but more like a massive turtle lumbers through the remains of the capitol building toward our position. Its head is armed with turrets that are firing Society pulse weapons directly into our lines, scattering soldiers and equipment. There is a landing strip for fighter jets on the back of its hard shell. Legs crush anything in its path and a powerful tail swipes away anything foolish enough to get near it. Overall it must be sixty feet tall and the length of two football fields. One fellow near Donna Ivanova shouts out, "They made Herb! How did they get my plans!? " Ivanova asks him, "What are you talking about, what is Herb? The fellow says," I am a Society scientist. I submitted blue prints to a research station capable of surviving in any environment. The shell is hardened to the point where nothing less than a nuclear attack can hope to harm it. This can't be happening. I submitted my plan to the elders and they sent me a notice that my plan had been rejected due to the impracticality of building it in our limited underground facilities. I named it Herb after my pet turtle." I say, "Angelica must have given away the plans for this machine months or even years ago." A new wave of jets launches from the back of Herb. The marines and Cherokee are concentrating their efforts on getting to Herb by any means necessary. I too recognize the need to stop Herb and rush forth with the speed only a revenant possesses. I pass through Herbs walls and find my way to the control room in Herb's head. A dozen swat team members guard the inside of the room. Six men control the movement of the colossus and four more men control the turrets that fire the pulse weapons. Sitting at the command chair, legs folded in a pose of ease and dressed the finest parade uniform imaginable is Pastor O' Kelly repeating his message of rebellion, sin and redemption over a communication device. Only a moment and Pastor O' Kelly recognizes me. Pastor O' Kelley nonchalantly flip the mic to the off position and looks at me with a confident smirk before saying, "Mr. Archer, you seem to have a problem with me. I am certainly tired of seeing you my personal Lucifer, and your cast of heathen sinners interfering in the will of God. I must thank you though for saving us the problem of looking for you by delivering yourself to us directly. I guess it is too much to suppose you are here to receive confession and your final holy communion? I say, "You created me. You destroyed my garden. You sent that hot-shot lunatic in a tank to make an example of me. He killed my dog. Soon my mortal form left this Earth in retaliation for that and for the death of my dear wife. You have taken everything that I care for. Now your creation has come to destroy his master. Soon you will find that death holds no sanctuary for one such as you. Then you can ask forgiveness for your sins. I would pray for you but I know the truth about Heaven and Hell and so I will waste no more words on you." The pastor signals and his swat team open fire on me. I flash a wicked grin as the bullets pass harmlessly through me hitting the control panels and blast shield behind me, killing one of the turret men and wounding two of the control officers. The pastor looks at me in disgust and says, "I have one more surprise for you, one you can't seem to dispatch and so I pray as my avenging angel that he shall finally dispatch you with most haste." A quick nod of the Pastor's head and a panel opens from a supply room behind him. Lt. Col. Daniel Cooper emerges from the chamber behind him, Winston cigarette hanging from his lip and before I can react he hurls a strange looking grenade at me. I am not sure how long I was stunned by the grenade but I come to my senses as Cooper is unloading his assault rifle into my chest. He shouts in a maniacal tone, "Die you scum! Go join your mutt in hell!" I feel myself fading under the intense barrage of his attack. Weakly I ask him, "How...how did you come back? My wife killed you with her Katana. I saw your head leave your shoulder and you vaporized before my eyes." Cooper flicks his Winston into my face and smugly brags, "What a fuckin idiot! You can't kill me you fool. All you can do is send me to another time or place. It took me a while to find my way back here, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna give up until I made you pay. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt like hell. Oh there will be torments, but now it’s time to send you there for your own personal experience. Time to finish this!" I dissolve into black ooze crawling up Cooper's leg and slowly enveloping him. "I agree Cooooo-per! It is time to finish this. You have provided me with valuable information that may be of assistance to me in the future and for that I will forgive you for trying to end my existence today. However, I have not forgiven you for killing my sweet little dog." I draw Cooper's essence into me, slowly and persistently I crush his will until I have snuffed out his energy. Cooper did not have time to scream. I let out a mild cough as his form evaporates for a final, definitive time. When I look up the Swat team begins firing at me again, this time more careful not to cause friendly fire. I take the time to eliminate them and all the other men who are running this monstrosity leaving the beastly Herb on autopilot until I have time to deal with it. Quickly studying the instrument panel I find a button that seems to indicate that it will open access hatches to the outside. I push it and hope that at least some of the marines or Cherokee can make their way inside the belly of this beast. Another quick glance and it is apparent that Pastor O' Kelly has fled. A wicked smile crosses my face as I anticipate the hunt. Thankfully most of the interior of this behemoth war machine is straightforward. A few narrow halls lead to barracks, weapons depots and the mess hall but the simple design made following the pastor relatively simple. As I suspected he headed straight for the top deck in an attempt to escape his fate. As I arrive on the landing pad on Herb's shell I see the pastor nervously barking orders to some pilots as the jet fighter he has entered hovers a dozen feet over the shell. The pastor looks back nervously and I am seated next to him. The pilots nervously hit the thrusters and flip the jet upside down hoping to dislodge me from my seat. The pastor says, "May the Lord bless us, protect us from all evil, and bring us to everlasting life." As I snuff his miserable existence with a black oily grip I say only "Amen.” The pilots eject themselves and the jet spirals down to the battlefield below. I do my best to get to the seat and turn the Jet toward enemy tanks a moment before the jet explodes on the surface in a fiery blast. I have had an active D&D campaign from 1981 to present with occasional time off to finish my educational goals. I've been the DM throughout that time and have participated in 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 3.5 editions. I parted ways with the 4.0 system which I do not feel represents the game I know. My most recent campaigns were Greek and Norse. I am currently working on a desert campaign. The D&D material I created here remains my intellectual creation. You may use these materials for your campaign but do not take credit for their creation please. Please ask my permission before downloading anything from this website Check out my Flickr group devoted to D&D: http://www.flickr.com/groups/dungeons_and_dragons/ "Stop! Mr. Archer! NO! Please don't kill me!" pleas Tomas.
My vision clears and I notice that my black oily arm has Tomas lifted off the ground and his face is white as a ghost. My black oily arm is like HIS arm, the dark assassin who took my dear wife away from me. My brow furls in anger, grief and frustration and I slowly lower Tomas to the ground just as he passes out and just as Connie runs out of bullets from the clip he is unloading into my back. Connie rushes to Tomas' aid and says, "Please ifin there be any gods left on this dark rock, give the boy another chance." As if in answer, Tomas clutches at his throat coughing violently and takes in a few breaths of air. Connie looks at me in disgust, "You coulda kilt the boy ya stupid ghoul!" I ignore Connie. We are in a large server room filled with acrid smoke. All of the computer panels are badly damaged. Dim backup lights are the only source of light in this chamber. A score of men in black swat-style military uniforms lie dead near the doorway to this room, looks of pure terror etched into their faces. "What happened?" I ask in a monotone voice. Rodney answers, "We were busy destroying the servers when I noticed the volume was turned on a radio attached to a charger along the wall of this room. There was a voice coming over the radio. At first it sounded like Pablo but then changed to the voice of Angelica. She was whispering and speaking in some sort of code. I heard her say to send the revenant and have it hone in on her tracking device. She said kill all the ghosts first. I assumed when she said revenant she was talking about you. Then we heard gunfire outside and alarms going off. We assumed we were out of time and so we began destroying the servers with weapons and acid injections. Before we were done the SWAT team arrived, broke down the door and demanded we surrender. We were completely outgunned so we dropped our weapons. They were in the process of interrogating us when you arrived. You were the devil incarnate. You sizzled and popped, an oily mass of destruction. Your only words, "my life is gone, now you will forfeit yours." When you had finished them off you turned on us and nearly killed poor Tomas." "Mrs. Archer was destroyed by a foul assassin that looked much like I do. Her last act was destroying Angelica, who had been disguised to look like the historian Pablo. Life must have recognized that Angelica was using a device to give our position away when she severed Angelica's arm. Realizing the ruse was up, Angelica tossed a Society grenade at us which glowed with a bluish light. Suddenly none of our Society technology worked. Everything became chaos, Joe was firing his gun at people below us, we were trying to gain access to a secure door and then a dark wraith destroyed my dear Life. I filled with uncontrollable rage and remember nothing after that moment until I heard Tomas' pleas for his life." I say. Rodney says urgently, "We need to get out of here. We felt several tremors that suggest this building is becoming unstable. We've done what we can to disable the drones and whatever else is powered by these servers. The battle must have started outside by now as we've heard some thunderous explosions for the last twenty minutes or so." As if to mirror Rodney's statement an explosion rocks the building and all the glass windows explode in a hail of shards. Rodney's group was mostly protected by the walls of servers, but we take this as our cue to get moving. Tomas is well enough to walk on his own and with the aid of Connie he is back on his feet. We exit the door and see that the main hall is on fire. A trail of dead soldiers dressed in black act as bread crumbs back to the scene were I lost my wife and my reason. Angelica's body is still here but no trace of the other members of Eddie's group remain. The mezzanine hallway shakes uncomfortably. We decide to exit the way we entered and head back to the old factory to survey the battlefield. I find that I am having great difficulty focusing on protecting the group as my mind drifts. I need to kill the pain of loss that is there on the edge of my mind. It is my desire to kill it by unleashing the dark beast within me. Why should I care who suffers? Who is left who cared about me? What has this time and place done to my benefit? There is no freedom, no liberty, only death upon death upon death and I am death's champion. We pass quickly through the farcical terminator robot room now transformed into the scrap rubble of burned crates, melted masks and twisted metal. The Society grenades had a devastating effect on this room. The room smolders with thick smoke and a few small fires. My wife displayed amazing skill in that room. The terminators had no chance against her furious blades. I had such pride in her. She was at her best when tackling impossible tasks and I was fortunate to be able to follow her lead. Now she is gone. My incompetence in battle cost her the phantasmal existence we both shared. I should not have been distracted by Joe. The damn fool was going to get killed sooner or later. I should have been by my wife's side. As a team we were unmatched. Now there is only emptiness. We were blessed with some great years together and even some time after death and yet now I doubt my ability to remember completely how she looked, what she sounded like, how she felt. As I think about this my heart fills with rage. What if there are more revenants about? They must be destroyed. They must suffer. All who would side with injustice must die. Briefly I look back at my companions who are continuing at a brisk pace back to the factory. I sift into the darkness and melt through the walls. My rage burns as I increase my velocity. My only thought...destroy all life that gets in my path. This is my first war. It is difficult for someone who has been in a war to describe it to others. When I emerged from the building complex to unleash my fury I was not prepared to witness what I saw that day. Some of the rage drained from my body as I surveyed the battlefield. The dying and wounded writhed on the ground like thousands of white maggots hidden under a half rotted raccoon on the side of the highway, all seeking to escape the scorching sunlight and return to the feast. Just as a bare patch in the lawn is filled with the wind sown grass in hopes of renewal, so were the bodies of the dead strewn upon the grounds near the Capitol building. A thousand probes have crashed to the ground, rendered inoperable by Rodney's team, but just as evident they cost The Society many brave people. Somehow The Society's cloaking devices were disabled ending that hoped for advantage. The forces from Lansing have been bolstered by forces from Illinois and Ohio. Some of the Lansing forces are using Society technology. I notice that The Society forces are weakened in three areas where a dark revenant has joined the battle on the side of Lansing. How many of my brethren exist? I rush to meet the closest one. A nearby Michigan militia man implodes in front of me, struck by a microwave weapon attached to a tank. I reach for the weapon and twist it into a useless lump. The distraction allows the other revenant the opportunity to attack me first with a powerful thrust to my spine. I have grown powerful from my encounter with the dread assassin who killed my wife. I say, "I know not what manner of tragedy produced you. I do not care. You have sided on the wrong side of history today and I have no patience or mercy for your kind. If you have someone you still love, something you still care for, I offer you the gift of a moment to think upon it, for your time is at an end." Enraged, the dark wraith attacked me, but true to my word I ended this one quickly, draining its force into my own form. The malevolent force from the wraith fills me with bitter hatred and I dance a dark waltz of death to any who stand between myself and the remaining two revenants. Four ghosts and two revenants later, I have a moment to focus on the chaos and destruction around me. Each dark spirit I have drained has hardened me. Whoever or whatever I was before today is no longer important to me. What matters is victory at any cost. I shall not rest until none oppose my might. These unwashed masses are but playthings to me. They wasted their living years in selfish pursuits, unable or unwilling to live up to their potential. Soon they will all be lost in the pointless cycling of death. I am a god among them. I have transcended death and now I choose who shall have life and who shall be damned with me. I think what I find most pathetic is the war leaders so eager to push the youngest and most green of the fighters into the mouth of certain death, all due to some intuition that doing so will give them an advantage in the battle. As the missiles fly, the rifles fire and the bombs go off these green soldiers are picked off like insects and I am forced to witness the cycling of their last moments as they become ghosts. Those who survive look up at the inexperienced lieutenants with scorn. Some of the more veteran soldiers throw grenades at some of their worst leaders, at least for the moment slowing the tide of death. Three days later the final stages of the battle for Lansing has commenced. My rage has finally subsided and I have rejoined what remains of The Society's forces. Here and there you can still hear the cries of the dying and wounded and the occasional firing of a mortar, assault rifle or pulse weapon. Both sides are pitching for one decisive battle. Ivanova, Fast Eddie and most of his team have somehow survived the three day battle and have rallied as the leaders of the majority of the allied militia and Society forces. The break in the fighting has allowed Society medics to save many of their wounded. The probes injected their paralytic attacks on many soldiers. Many of those soldiers have been saved. Thanks to the advanced medicine the Society can employee many of the wounded have returned to the battlefield eager to put an end to the tyranny imposed by the State of Michigan. During the initial combat the fighting style of the Cherokee and Michigan Devil Dogs has proven legendary as they joined together to form an elite force. Tales of their heroism will be told for many years, if there are any survivors this day. That elite force has taken positions in plain site, often burying themselves in the ground or hiding among the trees to aid in concealment. They use a Society masking agent that hides their heat signature from infrared detectors which makes them nearly invisible to probes. It has been rumored that reinforcements from Grayling are headed this way. Grayling means more tanks and jet fighters. The Jets will have pilots which means no disabled servers will ground them. The rumors and general murmuring of the nervous forces is finally put to an end as the first of the Jet fighters streak over our positions. The jet fighters fire a savoy of missiles and bullets into our ranks scattering units and ending lives as if they were a tiny flame on a candle stub blown out by an unexpected breeze. Next is the roar of the Lansing infantry with their troop transports and the remains of the armored brigade. Their charge is met by the hidden elite forces of Cherokee and marines ending the Infantry charge abruptly. The surprise and intense counter-attack results in a quick retreat of those Lansing forces and then a panicked route as the Society forces concentrate their advanced weapons on the troop transports and tanks. A short-lived whoop and hur-rah comes and goes as we notice a strong tremor that causes what remains of the capitol building to collapse inward. The tremor grows more intense and then we hear a booming voice come over a loudspeaker. "Lucifer was the first to rebel. Then Adam and Eve rebelled against God. People are born sinful and rebellion is a sin and an affront to God. Isaiah 1:2 Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the LORD hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. They rebel against authorities Wives against their husbands Children against their parents Church members against pastors Citizens against the police Students against teachers They rebel against the scriptures - Job 24:13; Ps. 107:11. They rebel against the Spirit of God - Isa. 63:10. Surrender to the authorities, lay down your arms and you shall witness the mercy and compassion of your God. For all those who have sinned can yet be saved as long as they allow God into their bosoms while yet they live." I recognize the voice immediately as that of Pastor O' Kelley. I can feel the rage start to boil within me when the origin of the tremors becomes apparent. A leviathan not shaped as the whale in the biblical Jonah story, but more like a massive turtle lumbers through the remains of the capitol building toward our position. Its head is armed with turrets that is firing Society pulse weapons directly into our lines, scattering soldiers and equipment. There is a landing strip for fighter jets on the back of its hard shell. Legs crush anything in its path and a powerful tail swipes away anything foolish enough to get near it. Overall it must be sixty feet tall and the length of two football fields. One fellow near Donna Ivanova shouts out, "They made Herb! How did they get my plans!? " Ivanova asks him, "What are you talking about, what is Herb?" The fellow says," I am a Society scientist. I submitted blue prints to a research station capable of surviving in any environment. The shell is hardened to the point where nothing less than a nuclear attack can hope to harm it. This can't be happening. I submitted my plan to the elders and they sent me a notice that my plan had been rejected due to the impracticality of building it in our limited underground facilities. I named it Herb after my pet turtle." I say, "Angelica must have given away the plans for this machine months or even years ago." A new wave of jets launch from the back of Herb. The marines and Cherokee are concentrating their efforts on getting to Herb by any means necessary. I too recognize the need to stop Herb and rush forth with the speed only a revenant possesses. I pass through Herbs walls and find my way to the control room in Herb's head. A dozen swat team members guard the inside of the room. Six men control the movement of the colossus and four more men control the turrets that fire the pulse weapons. Sitting at the command chair, legs folded in a pose of ease and dressed in the finest parade uniform imaginable is Pastor O' Kelly repeating his message of rebellion, sin and redemption over a communication device. Only a moment passes and Pastor O' Kelly recognizes me. Pastor O' Kelley nonchalantly flips the mic to the off position and looks at me with a confident smirk before saying, "Mr. Archer, you seem to have a problem with me. I am certainly tired of seeing you my personal Lucifer, and your cast of heathen sinners interfering in the will of God. I must thank you though for saving us the problem of looking for you by delivering yourself to us directly. I guess it is too much to suppose you are here to receive confession and your final holy communion? I say, "You created me. You destroyed my garden. You sent that hot-shot lunatic in a tank to make an example of me. He killed my dog. Soon my mortal form left this Earth in retaliation for that and for the death of my dear wife. You have taken everything that I cared for. Now your creation has come to destroy his master. Soon you will find that death holds no sanctuary for one such as you. Then you can ask forgiveness for your sins. I would pray for you but I know the truth about Heaven and Hell and so I will waste no more words on you." The pastor signals and his swat team opens fire on me. I flash a wicked grin as the bullets pass harmlessly through me hitting the control panels and blast shield behind me, killing one of the turret men and wounding two of the control officers. The pastor looks at me in disgust and says, "I have one more surprise for you, one you can't seem to dispatch and so I pray as my avenging angel that he shall finally dispatch you with most haste." A quick nod of the Pastor's head and a panel opens from a supply room behind him. Lt. Col. Daniel Cooper emerges from the chamber behind him, Winston cigarette hanging from his lip and before I can react he hurls a strange looking grenade at me. I am not sure how long I was stunned by the grenade by I come to my senses as Cooper is unloading his assault rifle into my chest. He shouts in a maniacal tone, "Die you scum! Go join your mutt in hell!" I feel myself fading under the intense barrage of his attack. Weakly I ask him, "How...how did you come back? My wife killed you with her Katana. I saw your head leave your shoulder and you vaporized before my eyes." Cooper flicks his Winston into my face and smugly brags, "What a fuckin idiot! You can't kill me you fool. All you can do is send me to another time or place. It took me a while to find my way back here, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna give up until I made you pay. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt like hell. Oh there will be torments, but now its time to send you there for your own personal experience. Time to finish this!" I dissolve into a black ooze crawling up Cooper's leg and slowly enveloping him. "I agree Cooooo-per! It is time to finish this. You have provided me with valuable information that may be of assistance to me in the future and for that I will forgive you for trying to end my existence today. However, I have not forgiven you for killing my sweet little dog." I draw Cooper's essence into my self, slowly and persistently I crush his will until I have snuffed out his energy. Cooper did not have time to scream. I let out a mild cough as his form evaporates for a final, definitive time. When I look up the Swat team begins firing at me again, this time more careful not to cause friendly fire. I take the time to eliminate them and all the other men who are running this monstrosity leaving the beastly Herb on autopilot until I have time to deal with it. Quickly studying the instrument panel I find a button that seems to indicate that it will open access hatches to the outside. I push it and hope that at least some of the marines or Cherokee can make there way inside the belly of this beast. Another quick glance and it is apparent that Pastor O' Kelly has fled. A wicked smile crosses my face as I anticipate the hunt. Thankfully most of the interior of this behemoth war machine is straightforward. A few narrow halls lead to barracks, weapons depots and the mess hall but the simple design made following the pastor relatively simple. As I suspected he headed straight for the top deck in an attempt to escape his fate. As I arrive on the landing pad on Herb's shell I see the pastor nervously barking orders to some pilots as the Jet Fighter he has entered hovers a dozen feet over the shell. The pastor looks back nervously and I am seated next to him. The pilots nervously hit the thrusters and flip the jet upside down hoping to dislodge me from my seat to no avail. The pastor says, " May the Lord bless us, protect us from all evil, and bring us to everlasting life." As I snuff his miserable existence with a black oily grip I say only "Amen!" The pilots eject themselves and the jet spirals down to the battlefield below. I do my best to get to the seat and turn the Jet toward enemy tanks a moment before we explode on the surface in a fiery blast. Some overused phrases and words annoy the hell out of me. Think outside the box makes me want to vomit in the box. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed gives me insomnia! Then there is one I get as a comment all the time describing my satire: We are not laughing at you, we are laughing with you! Yeah, right you bastards! If you hate me just tell me, so I can delete you from my friends list!
But, there is one phrase that REALLY, really, REALLLLLLY puts a bug in my butt...Real Life Comes First! I know people have family, jobs and taxes that will snap you back to reality faster than Superman can cook a burger with his heat vision, but I think this phrase is a crushing blow for those of us who believe that Real Life is over-rated and should play second fiddle to our imaginary life. For instance, if my real life really came first I would not be ranting about this at work, but would be finishing that cost report that nobody pays attention to until we are out of money. What if real life came second? Well for one I would sell my unicorn and retire from my bean counting job. In fact I would take some of those beans plant them overnight and then climb up to the cloud kingdom the next morning and demand the giant who has been hoarding all the magic beans give me something better to do like categorizing magic mushrooms or maybe just grinding bones to make his bread. I bet it pays better! In real life there is no Tooth Fairy, Santa, Grinch or Gandalf the Gray. The Force is NEVER with you! You can't visit the Shire, slay dragons or equip yourself with your spear and magic helmet! Thor and Loki are just a couple of actors playing comic book characters. Robots take your jobs they don't save the universe from galactic evil. Real life comes first? Welcome to my world where real life is not what you imagined but is imagination itself. Today the quandary is whether I should once again ignore the elf who keeps messing up my hair each night or finally confront him. In fact today I shall invoke the spirit in the bottle to end world conflict and mend the round table. Arthur shall return and join his place next to Lancelot and Merlin and we will take a ride in the Tardis to Atlantis. The Pumpkin King sings a lovely song to remind me that wonder is not just the domain of children. Let me see, on this afternoon's agenda we have slaying the Nazgul, teleporting to the dark side of the moon to have tea with the Wizard of Oz and then return home in time to use my bionics to leap up and steal a home run away from the Yankees at Tiger Stadium. You can have your real life. I am having too much fun in whatever life I choose today. |
Dean StevensI am responsible for all that appears before you. Categories
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