W_A_R
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The sky is black with thunderheads and the earth gives off that hot, moist scent that only comes from the first rains on a parched and dusty landscape. The lands of Vijar prepares to receive the rare seasonal gift of rainfall. One's eyes could be excused for thinking that the trees and plants were quivering in anticipation, so slight the breeze before the storm.
The figure of a cloaked man could be discerned against the looming backdrop of the sky. Still of erect bearing, the man's once muscled build had faded slightly and a paunch of inactivity hung uncomfortably around his waist. A parchment hung loosely from his gnarled left hand; a message carried to him from a far Kingdom.
The missive told of the recent achievements of the Order of the Black Rose, a fellowship that the man knew well and held dear. The words spoke of the elevation of Page ManweDrago to that of Squire, an achievement of particular note given that he now had taken up the role of Commander of Blackwater. The former Commander, the much respected metal, had chosen to seek release from his responsibilities so that he could focus on other duties. The man pulled his cloak closer to him as heavy droplets of rain started to splatter on the dirt. He wished both ManweDrago and metal well.
The message also told of the ascension of Squire Stella to Knighthood. Dear Stella, constantly working and making sure all within the Order and the Realm of the Rose were cared for. Her hands could wield a battle-axe with the same deftness as when she was creating delicate pastries and morsels for visitors to the Black Keep. Dame Stella; a title well deserved indeed.
The parchment was now limp in the man's grip and the ink upon in began to run and smear under the assault of the increasingly heavy rain. Although nobody could see his face, a small smile of satisfaction crinkled his weathered visage, and his eyes shone just a little brighter in the knowledge that the Order was in good hands. He turned was walked slowly back to to his hearth and home.
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Special Log 23 - Carrot Cake Journal of W_A_R
I have had a small respite from my training and Pagely duties with the Order of the Black Rose. As is often the case, I chose to go off on the well worn path of personal learning. I have found this route to be very rewarding and a far more productive than the path of asshattery or the path of annihilation. Why so many choose those paths is beyond me. Some have suggested it is the machinations of the trolls that live under many of the bridges of this world, subtly and not so subtly offering directions to the less wary and inexperienced travelers. This may well be true. A well seasoned traveler such as myself has learned to ignore the trolls and plan one’s travels in advance.
My original destination was to be a spa in the mountains of Zanidoo, a nation ruled by a fellow Page, Winslow. He had often mentioned the restorative qualities of the spa and I had decided not only to learn more of Zanidoo but get a little work done on restoring my physical (and some may say mental) wellbeing. Trust me when I say that the Order challenges its Pages in both respects. On my way I stopped for refreshment at a roadside inn. There were the usual collection of characters at the tavern; brigands, soldiers of fortune, a man of the cloth and merchants with their hired help.
Word had reached this isolated point that much of Digiterra was consumed in war once again. This was of no surprise to me as military conflict is a constant part of existence in this world some have come to call Planet Bob. I asked a coachman for more details and he mentioned that the Alliances known as The Browncoats and the Black Defense Council had become embroiled in an attempt to avoid being drawn into the major war. In doing so they had lost significant face with their allies and unwitting membership.
I of course knew of the BDC as my Order also wore Black. Of the Browncoats I knew of Schattenmann (formerly of Purge) and also N1ntenderek who I knew from my days in GOLD. He always came across as an earnest but harmless sort of a fellow. Rumours had it that both these gentlemen had been implicated in the ‘conspiracy’ and were under pressure from all quarters. N1ntenderek had been often in contact with me over the years, urging me to visit his nation. I wasn’t too keen to be honest. I had visions of his residence being filled with half eaten food and dirty plates, empty containers of cheap domestic ale and discarded unwashed clothing. I shuddered.
I weighed up my possible courses of action. Drop everything and visit Derekica and support N1ntenderek in his time of need …… or continue on my planned path to Zanidoo and its famed spa…. and the beautiful masseuses and fine food and wine and……
Special Log 24 – Zanidoo Spa
Well I’m here at Zanidoo Spa and you wouldn’t believe how soft these towels are! Nothing like the hessian we often use at the Order. Lovely. It is so relaxing here things can just slip from you mind. I can highly recommend it to anyone who finds themselves in need of a bit of respite from the cut and thrust of Digiterran politics. I must put my mind to letting people know …… later.
W_A_R of Vijar
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No further treatment need... this is good!
So I have finally managed to survive the rigours of the OBR to be knighted. Beware my vengeful gauntlet!
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Bloody hell! 1000 plus days, eh! I must get some perspective.
IRL the person behind the character W_A_R has had a little surgery to remove some unwanted tissue. Awaiting news whether further treatment is required, hopefully not.
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Hello, young Schattenmann.
You appear to have created quite a following these past few months and I am not surprised at all. Lugosi would have been proud.
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White chocolate coated raspberry liquorice. Yum!
By the way, my big toes are developing some fairly awesome callouses.
Played some street cricket on Boxing Day. I am suffering several deep grazes which have decided to take a lot of time to heal. I must remember to look for soft landing areas BEFORE diving for a catch.
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My big toes hurt a tad after wearing new steel capped work boots. Why was I wearing steel-capped work boots, new or otherwise? Ah, well! Creative Writing can be extremely dangerous and you never know when a lengthy paragraph may drop on your foot. I could also make mention that they make my legs look pretty darn sexy in that labourer / construction worker sort of way. PM for photos.
