Midweek Memes & Music: Salty Gamer Edition!

LOL – I got involved in some salty gamer-talk over the past couple of days, so I figured that today was the perfect time to do a quick post about it! Don’t worry, my short-story excerpts are ready for publishing and will be posted soon. I’m just prepping for my upcoming zerg-ball run for one of the grand, in-game titles! I need a few more achievements under my belt, and rubbing oneself with a bit of salt beforehand helps develop a thick skin. Blogging is the other exercise, obviously! Also, enjoy my musical selections which follow a preview of the upcoming new chapter in the best online game ever. Early access FTW!

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Before the music, the new promotional trailer for The Elder Scrolls Online: Morrowind!

…and now, the tunes for salty gamers – the love / hate is real!

Full Moon Midweek Musings…10 May 2017

The weather has been pretty nice for almost a week now! It’s a refreshing change from all of the rain we’d been having. The rain has been about average for this time of year, but the temperatures aren’t!

At this time last year, temperatures here on the Washington coast were in the mid-70s, with the lows hovering around the mid- to low 50s. This year, the highs are in the mid-50s, and the lows still drop to the low 40s! This morning is the third straight one where I could stand outside on the deck in my robe and not feel as if my legs would freeze off. It will be nice when it gets warmer, but it seems as if that won’t happen until the end of this month at the earliest.

Still working on clearing away shrubbery from around the house and the garage, and getting ready to move and transplant the bamboo jungle which we let go wild for a bit. It’s amazing how quickly it grows in ideal conditions; the last two years have seen it explode, and even this year there is still noticeable “creepage,” for lack of a better term! The bamboo that we have is the type that expands outward, so we can see where it is heading from the way the new shoots are erupting. Definitely fascinating to watch!

The roof on the house is scheduled to be re-shingled in August. A leak developed due to some of the shingles being slightly lifted when the winds from storms loosened some of the staples holding them down. It’s time to replace all with some better ones which have a longer warranty and are installed properly and securely! The winds blow strong here when the storms come through, so coastal houses tend to get battered a bit more than those on the lee side of even small mountain ranges.

There’s a full moon in Scorpio today, and I have a nice, lazy, relaxing day on tap. The Seattle Mariners will be facing the Philadelphia Phillies in a bit, so it’s time for me to get some game-time of my own in. Feel free to click on the link here and watch the action! Broadcasting will begin at 1100 PDT. Later, ‘gators!

Image from Darkstar Astrology – Full Moon May 2017 ~ Snake Bites

Midweek Memes: Aries Edition!

There was a full moon yesterday, but the weather was too cloudy and wet to view it properly! I saw it briefly on Monday night, when the clouds decided to part for a few hours and let me view its luminous beauty, but it wasn’t “fully” full at that time.

Finished my workout and my shower so it’s time for some coffee and serious gaming! Since the sun is still in my sign of Aries, I figured that it was the perfect time to post some funny Aries-related memes as well – enjoy!

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Midweek Music – Celebration, Continued!

Here’s some mid-week music as the fun and celebrations continue…I’m keeping the laughter in slaughter, LOL!

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Midweek Memes for the Ides of March – 2017!

My March birthday celebrations begin today, with not one, not two, but three family members who share the Ides of March as their birthdate! My personal celebration begins this Friday and goes for an entire week, because hey – when I was born, they broke the mold – so, why stick to only one day of fun and festivities?

Anyway, enjoy these midweek memes for the Ides of March – Caesar, beware!

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Midweek Musings: International Women’s Day

Today is International Women’s Day, and March is Women’s History Month. What, if anything, do these observances mean to myself and other women around the world? It depends on who you ask, where that person resides, and what their perspectives and experiences are. When I talk with others, I look for common ground and relatable experiences to initiate dialogue. Then, if I find a difference in personal experiences between myself and another, I ask questions in an attempt to learn about and understand that person’s unique experiences. The funny thing about this is, even the most basic questions that I ask of others never really get answered! This makes it difficult to know where another person is coming from, and makes it virtually impossible to meet them halfway with anything.

These hiccups in communication mostly occur in online interactions, especially when there are differences in language and culture. Mistakes in translation can create unintended offense on both ends. This is why I prefer speaking with others face-to-face: it’s easier to gauge the veracity and intent of the person with whom I’m speaking, and enables one to clear up any misunderstandings right away!

What does this observation have to do with International Women’s Day, you might ask? Plenty. After all, I am one woman in this big world. Therefore, my observations, experiences and perspectives are just as important on this day as that of any other real, genuine, XX-chromosome-bearing woman. International Women’s Day, and Women’s History Month, still seem more tailored for the Euro-centric and Anglo-identifying ones. Inclusion is still lacking, from what I see – but, that’s just my perspective!

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Midweek Montage…In-Game Scenery!

I’m getting ready to finally hook up my computer and run it through its paces…I think that I’ve procrastinated long enough! In the meantime, please enjoy this mid-week montage of in-game scenery. Later, ‘gators!

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Sword-play is hard on the manicure…

Standing in the Thieves’ Refuge

Seems to fit properly…

Appraising her appearance

A sip of wine…

Playing with fire

A proper impaling

Glorious crimson decorations…

…lining both sides of the cave

A new memento

The Litany of Blood, fulfilled!

Midweek Memes…25 January 2017!

Still doing some tests on my computer, so decided to take a break and post a few selected midweek memes. Hope that you like them – enjoy!

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Midweek Memes & Music – 11 January 2017!

Time for a bit of comedy relief, followed by some tuneage. I’m off for a couple of hours of intense, epic gaming…later, ‘gators!

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Excerpt from NaNoWriMo: Prologue

Author’s note: This is the prologue of the story I began during NaNoWriMo. I thought that it would be fun to post excerpts from it now and then! I’ve been inspired by today’s New Moon, it would appear.

He starts awake, gasping and choking. Coughing up water, gagging, snorting out sand-filled snot. He raises up on his forearms, struggling to stand…a wave of dizziness hits hard. He collapses helplessly. The crying of gulls is loud in the air…what is that clacking sound? He strains to raise his head – gods, it spins so! Bright light hurts his eyes; he clamps them shut and drags himself forward. His body aches all over. What happened? He can’t dredge up any memory save something from a nightmare…idyllic peace shattered in an instant…

Water lapping, calm seas, joy and general bonhomie as the grand ship cut through the waves on the journey home. Tall, proud son at his side, strong hands on the wheel. Grinning at his father in his good-natured way. Eyes that twinkle in the same way that the young man’s mother’s eyes did, so long ago. Eyes that now turn distant and intent, staring over the father’s shoulder, concern and the hint of fear growing rapidly. “What is that? By the gods – Father, what is that?”

Turning slowly…ever so slowly, as if in a dream…seeing the small island passing on the portside, nine figures cloaked in black garments, screaming foul incantations and dancing wildly, madly…time seems to slow to the cadence of heartbeats. Black clouds gather and roil, coalescing into lumpen shapes that begin to swirl ominously like the funnel-cloud of a tornado.

A helpless form, dressed in rags, hangs unsupported in front of the chanting, dancing worshipers. The chanting rises to a fever pitch as a thunderous sound grows in volume, getting louder by the second. The ugly noise travels through the ground and the water, seemingly filling the air itself with its oppressive presence. All on board the ship clap hands to ears; some fall to their knees, others writhe in agony.
A circle flashes into view above the chanting forms – a beam of light shoots down, vaporizing the ragged sacrifice. The chanters are washed with that hideous, sickly light; eyes ablaze, they turn as one, facing the ship. Waves suddenly churn – the ship plunges and whirls in unseen eddies. Massive chains drop from the circle in the sky, smashing into the tiny island. They lock into place and pull taut…the ground shakes from the impact, and the waves increase in intensity. The lookout in the crow’s nest is flung into the wild sea, screaming as he falls. Water washes across the deck, slamming helpless bodies into gunwales and tossing others to the waves.

The man reaches out, grabbing his unconscious son as they slide across the wet wooden planks. He desperately clutches at a flapping end of rope in an attempt to arrest forward motion, to no avail – the ship lurches madly as another freak wave heaves it to starboard. He’s falling…the side of the ship looms close. He strikes his shoulder on something…he loses his grip on his son. The cold water envelops him in an icy embrace. Shouts and screams are close, some growing faint and ceasing altogether. He tries to get his bearings by exhaling a stream of bubbles and following their trail.

He breaks the surface of the water. His eyes see the huge chains locked into the earth, but his mind still doesn’t register it as being real. Thunder rumbles continuously; the white light spins madly in the center of the circle, the clouds are black and ominous as they seem to be sucked into the spinning light. Creatures from the imagination of a mad god drop from the circle, summoned by the chanting, dancing worshipers. Their fell magics are directed at the sky, the water, and the now-sinking ship. The incessant waves have taken their toll and the port side has been stove in from some unseen impact.

“No…please…” he gasps, treading water weakly, still trying to keep his son’s head above the surging waters. Out of nowhere, a powerful arm grabs him around the chest and lifts him onto a couple of floating barrels that are still miraculously lashed together. His son’s limp form soon rests next to him – he is relieved to see that the younger man still breathes strongly. He looks around for his savior, but only sees a saurian tail cutting through the water towards another bit of flotsam. One of the lizard-folk, it appears…he had employed a goodly number of them. His desire for a diverse crew would pay off quite well, today.

The ship is floundering, quite resembling a dying cetacean or sea-serpent struggling and clinging to life. The sails hang in rags from the masts, rent and torn by the screaming winds. Forms, human and non, bob in the waves. Some manage to stay afloat – others tread water weakly, then cease their struggles, then disappear from sight. He turns blurred eyes to the limp form of his son. ‘I’m so tired…I must rest for just a little while…then I can help,’ he thinks. Darkness lays her warm cloak over his eyes and mind, and he floats away.

The clacking sound rouses him again…he knows that he needs to get away from it, but can’t think of why. He carefully moves his arms, stretching them out in front of him and feeling for something sturdy to grasp hold of. Splintered wood. Wet, wadded cloth. A soggy, frayed piece of rope. A hand…he clasps it, but it is cold and doesn’t return his grip. He carefully releases it, not opening his eyes, not wanting to know who it might belong to – or whether it is still even attached to the arm of whomever it belongs to. He needs to focus on survival. Head spinning, he makes minute, painful progress…then passes out again.

Voices call, getting closer. “Did you see that?” “What was it?” “Here! I found someone – come, come!” “Over here…no, that one is done for – mark them with the red cloth so the priests can tend to them once we find all of the survivors.” The sound of scuffing sand gets nearer still. The ugly clacking is so close…too close…sand scuffs harshly, there is a soft thump, and the clacking ceases. He groans softly, twitching his hands in the sand, trying to move. “Here – come, I’ve found another!” The voice, so close…speaking in a familiar language, but with a unique, distinct dialect. A woman’s voice. Hands press his arms and legs; questing fingers probe his shoulder. He lets out a loud gasp of pain, then dissolves into paroxysms of helpless coughing. “Turn him, quickly!” More hands grab him; fingers sweep into his mouth, clearing out sand and spittle. Fingers pull his eyes open – the sunlight is blinding and he tries to squeeze his eyelids shut against the burning intrusion. His head is cradled gently for a moment and a bowl is brought to his lips. “Here…drink this, slowly,” says a soft voice. He parts his lips; warm broth trickles down the side of his face as he swallows. He squints against the light, trying to see who tends to him – all he sees is a light-limned shadow. The broth is good…he relaxes slightly as the pain eases, closing his eyes again. His breath steadies as he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep. He feels nothing as he is transferred to a travois, wrapped in a wool blanket, and has pillows carefully propped behind his head and shoulders. He is lifted to the back of a horse-drawn cart and lain down between two others. The horse grazes quietly nearby; the driver eats his own simple meal, waiting for the order to take the poor souls to the nearby infirmary.

Other injured crewmen have been located. Those who can move on their own do so, heading to the triage tent that was hastily erected by the rescuers. Many of those with the fewest injuries are the lizard-folk, who are telling and re-telling the tale of what befell them as they are tended to by the healers. An elderly, blind priest listens to the recounted disaster, his fingers weaving runes of light in the air before his sightless eyes. His magick-infused writings are being seen in various guilds throughout the land, being transcribed to books, paper, and carved in stone by whichever mage, shaman, witch-king, or wyrd-woman can decipher them. For good or ill, this occurrence is recorded by all with the ability – and the tale spreads swiftly, like a virulent disease.

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