Cafe de Nuit

The jump was mainly because so little happened in those months, both in my story and according to J. W. Mangrum's timeline here on the frat (other than the kender vampires and Claude Renier's murder). Sorry if it's jarring, but that's hardly the first time I've jumped like that. There will be times when the dates jump ahead simply because there's nothing to tell in the interim.

I'm alive? Whoa, I am! Sorry for no new posts for so long; I'm finally on my vacation, and since I can't afford to go anywhere this year, I guess I get to spend my time catching up on the Journals. Ah well, I get to sit at home for two weeks and rot my brain on horror movies and Jeff Dunham comedy specials. I'd call that a fair trade.

A month. A *&!!@#*$!#@^% month before I could find the time and desire to write again. Damn you, Virtumonde.c virus! ...And CthulhuTech...and Fallout 3...and Wrath of the Lich King. Sorry. I've spent the past four weeks scouring hundreds of terminals and databases on my company's network trying to isolate and destroy a virus, one that I had to eradicate all traces of or it would just come right back. So after spending hours on the mind numbing task of going through people's personal terminals (and finding some "interesting things" at times) I tended to be a bit worn out after work.

Plus I've been getting into CthulhuTech in a big way (anime', Lovecraftian horror, and mecha all in one? And I thought Kingdom Hearts was something to get excited over), then FO3 came out and so did WotLK; yes, I've created a DK and no, I won't give names or details. But in the end I can't resist the siren's call of Ravenloft. Everything's finally back to normal and just in time. I'll try and update the story again within the next two days.

In the end I decided to describe just how pathetic I feel the Three Hags are. They're evil, yes. But they're also poorly written and don't come across as terribly evil beyond their cannibalism and vague references to dark magic. They're just too two-dimensional to work with (for me, at least).

I'm still alive, folks! I had LASIK done five weeks ago and my eyesight is still in flux. To make matters worse my corneas were developing ingrown cells under the cut they made and I had to have those scraped clean and start over on post-op treatment. So far it's looking excellent and hopefully this is the end of it.

The bad news is my eyes still get painful in front of a computer screen, but the good news is I've been using this time to play Silent Hill: Home Coming and adapt that world to Gothic Earth (in later posts and in much greater detail). Plus I haven't forgotten about the Lost Journals or an actual Van Richten's Guide to Psionics I'm drafting. That last one could use help; I'll post what my first draft in another thread and I'm counting on constructive criticism to help me expand and clarify much of what's written or will be written. Additions (with full credit) are welcomed.

A (rather crude) depiction of Alexander Dreamfire in his natural form, including chalk-white skin and blue hair and eyes. The armor was supposed to be armor of the celestial batallione but this is the best I can do. The armor has been matter manipulated into adamantine but remains as supple as before. The blade is his mind blade, though not in the exact color: it should be silver-white, but this is as close as it gets.

The shield is a representation of the mind shield, part of a new build for the base soulknife class (the doc can be found here).

Due to a confluence of environmental and medical factors, I have not had more than four hours sleep in two days and am violently ill to boot. Since it's Friday I hope to get some rest over the weekend and begin work on the Dread Possibilities for VRGtPsi for the first two chapters, in addition to all of chapter three (which will be almost entirely DP). I'm still alphabetizing every 3.5 psionic power I can find printed and double checking old-but-still-relevant canon changes to psionics from 2e for flavor and feel. No wonder I have a headache.

Also be sure to vote here before April 30.

Cubitus Otium - Latin for "Rest Peacefully" or "Rest in Peace"

I'm sorry to announce that the Lost (and Gothic) Journals will hereby be put on indefinite hold due to a death in the family. My grandfather lost his battle against lung disease and passed away peacefully in his sleep last night. May the angels sing him to Heaven.

My condolences on your loss.

I'm sad to hear about his departure

But you're part of his story too, and everything you do will add to it. So his work lives on, in you.

Thank you, Isabella and HuManBing, for your regards. Now that his body is committed to the earth comes the really hard part: adjustment. But life is not going to wait and I tend to follow the old French proverb, "Mourn for men at their birth, rejoice for them at their death." It's too bad I don't live in New Orleans. A celebration of a life well lived is more my style.

The Journals' will be continued henceforth as usual. Not that I'm terribly regular with updates as it is.

"Gloom, despair and agony on me-e!
Deep dark depression, excessive misery-y!
If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all!"
- from a sign on Hee Haw

I don't make a secret of my health problems, as some of you might know. Up until recently they were largely mental and neurochemical, along with a hiatal hernia and a damaged esophagial gate that meets my stomach. But the recent stress of my grandfather dying, having to move to a whole new house to help care for her, and past abuse of speed and other stims (which accelerates internal aging; according to my doctors I have the insides of a 56-year-old man) has led to a rather serious and active case of IBS. The changes in diet, having to take medications to stop attacks (which doesn't work; according to WebMD this particular med doesn't work for a lot of people), and having to take Metamucil, all that I don't really mind. It's the attacks--stomach cramps that go all the way through from front to back and are comparable to passing a kidney stone in terms of sheer agony, and the subsequent violent nausea when the cramps wear off--I can't take. It's made me more than a little testy on the boards here and for that I apologize profusely. I've isolated what causes these attacks (anything more than lightly greasy or spicy, and especially anything dairy without a high dose of lactose-intolerance meds first) so it's slowly coming under control. Unfortunately stress is also a major trigger, and that hasn't been worse than it is now at any point in my life, as you'll read below.

The Hee Haw thing is actually something my psychiatrist used to describe my life up to this point and I have to agree (taking into account the fact I am an emotional abuse survivor, never got properly diagnosed for every psychiatric problem I have until they had left permanent scars, along with bad experiences with meds to replace my old antidepressants once they stopped working, my grandfather dying suddenly, and my newest medical problems). These past four month have been some of the worst times in my life. Thanks to all of the bureaucratic bull Draper City is tossing my way, the contractor still hasn't been able to even break ground (the city is required to run tests for ground contaminants, water table levels, etc. before allowing any new construction or they'll have the EPA and OSHA all over them like white on rice). So I'm under a LOT of stress, despite having done everything else--taken out a loan, found a plot, picked out floorplans and exterior and interior design, basically spending 450k so everything's go. Add to this that I have to do repairs to my current house and my little sister is moving in with me (and possibly our grandmother as well in the new house) sometime in March once her roommate moves out of their apartment (but she did kick her deadbeat boyfriend to the curb [:)], which is a VERY good thing since he lived with her until just three days ago, hasn't had a job in six months and isn't even trying to look for one even as my sister is putting herself through school yet again to meet the requirements to become a plastic surgeon's assistant, and blows his unemployment on cocaine and booze, both of which make him dangerously unpredictable, and he's never once paid so much as a nickel towards rent, bills, and other costs; I'll have my gun-nut father shoot the <bleep>er before I even consider letting him move in with me), hopefully you'll understand why I haven't been adding to the Journals or to my other projects here.

When I'm not sick, I'm drowning in projects that need to be done to sell my current house as well as my grandmother's. If they'd just do those damn tests and get to work on the new house there would be a light at the end of this tunnel. The stress aggravates my stomach problems, my stomach problems aggravate my stress, I'm in the throes of a nasty cycle that could easily be broken if the bureaucrats would do their job. I'm technically a Sandy City voter (even if I live on the border with Draper) so I'm actually allowed to gripe about them since I didn't/couldn't vote the bums in (not that the people I vote for ever get into any local or state office; it doesn't pay to be a political and social moderate in Utah when the state is this conservative and blindly pro-Republican).