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Lausaw The Sorcorer

Danse and Yendor walked through the woods, headed east with the stream, which would lead to the next town. Yendor had been a traveling musician all his life and he knew how to find civilization and how to avoid it. There was a road they could have taken, but Danse was sure there would be soldiers patrolling them, alerted to the forbidden magic that had happened at the harbor. Yendor wanted to head into the hills, just he and her an begin training. She insisted there were some preparations they had to make. They had both just abandoned their lives for each other without really thinking about the consequences. Yendor’s training as a musician was more or less complete and probably wouldn’t be utilized much now anyway, except perhaps as a cover or to earn a roof over their head. musicians in a troop scheduled performances at fairs and worked out accommodations, provisions and logistics ahead of time. Usually some kind of payment could be secured over and above what the crowd decided to spend its pennies on. Whether it was a charge to attend the performance or passing a hat, a troop was too big to sustain itself on the fickle whims of a crowds passing fancy. The base payment was usually only enough to sustain the troops tour from fair to fair, and the crowds pennies helped to make life a little more livable. Like most people, musicians eked out a living that kept them from starving and not much else.

Lone musicians could not count on anything but the hat. And they were vulnerable to robbers both high and low, whether the sheriff made up a fine for a permit that he invented on the spot (fines are always more than fees, usually a person had to pay both, so it is in the sheriff’s interest not to bring it up until the violation has occurred), or a sorcerer charging for a blessing that wasn’t sought, or a real thief, who at least isn’t pretending to be something else.

They had precious little money between them, and Danse wanted to outfit them with weapons, provisions and necessities like a tent, cooking ware and other things of weight that Yendor knew he would end up carrying.

When they got to town, they found the marketplace and got themselves a meat pie to split, realizing they would soon either be living off the land, or Yendor would be spending as much time supporting them as a musician as he did training to save the world. Maybe more. Watters had always said that the bulk of life is spent doing the work needed to live it. Until now, that had meant chores like doing dishes, rolling billets, printing flyers, cleaning up camp, or mending tents, clothes, costumes, instruments. People thought being a musician was playing music all day. This just isn’t the case. Musicians lives, artists lives, everyone’s life was spent doing chores. Even clergy like the sorcerers had to fill out reports, keep endless records, gather tithes, and darn their socks, while shoring up for winter, which was coming by the way.

Townsfolk had homes that kept out the weather, but travelers lived in tents. Watters would say winter just means moving the fire inside. Many travelers carried their winter things all year round. Some had winter homes, that they stayed in. some stored their winter things in halls rented for such purposes. Some sold their furs in the spring and bought new ones in the fall. Watters had liked to carry things in a spare cart that invariably got damaged, stolen or worn out, so that there was always the expense of new things and the burden of carrying things all year. There were less fairs in the winter, but people still wanted to hear music. This was actually the best time for a lone musician and the troop would often split up for the winter. Watters kept a stash of money hidden from robbers like most travelers. Sometimes the robbers found it, sometimes not. Usually thieves only wanted money because they too were travelers. “Thieves couldn’t make a living staying in one place, not unless they went into government,” Watters would say.

They got most everything they needed. She had a long stiletto dagger that had been in her family. He got an old sword, double edged, short handle, small guard, nothing fancy. She could tell it was well made. The one he wanted she said would break in its first fight. “Showman.” she said, shaking her head as if he’d picked out a prop that would glitter for the audience. She wasn’t wrong, he guessed. The tent he picked out. It was his turn to know what was needed. Treated canvas that had been given a layer of lacquer to keep out the weather; He would find the right trees, and boil some sap for another layer. the poles were Ashwood, heavy but solid. He and Watters had used tent poles to fight off bandits on more than one occasion. People often went for lighter wood that was easier to carry, but Yendor trusted the hard wood. They got a few pots that could double for roasting, stewing, frying or what was called for. They got forks that Yendor thought could be used to pitch hay, and hunting knives for table knives. Everything had two uses and everything was second-hand. That’s how it goes, playing in a band, thought Yendor.

They kept going East, heading for the Wyvern Hills, and pitched the tent early so Danse could snare something for dinner, and Yendor could make the lacquer for the tent. They found a clearing in the lee of a hill, a little plateau that gave them a view of oncommers but shielded them from the wind at the same time. They had just finished the rabbit stew when they heard horses. The soldiers crested the hill and left room for the sorcerer bringing up the rear.

“Well, well, what have we here?” the sorcerer, dressed all in black, was reed thin but had a resonate voice in spite of that. “Outlaws I’ll wager. They had to have circumvented the road and gone quite a bit out of their way to sneak up the hill like that. They hadn’t just happened along.

“We’re travelers. Musicians. Not outlaws.” said Yendor.

“I know who you are.” said the sorcerer as the soldiers drew their swords simultaneously. “I am a sorcerer of the order of the mace, on the business of Incarnate.” Sorcerers loved to recite their credentials. Yendor wasn’t familiar with the order of the Mace, but it didn’t sound good. They were never “Order of the pansies that grow in the Spring by the roadside in the field.” It was always “Order of the plague,” or some nightmarish name meant to drive fear into the hearts of ordinary people.

“We have been sent to find you. Did you think your …performance… would go unnoticed?” They were still on their horses. The firelight demonized their faces as the sky glowered in the twilight. “I know not what evil magic you follow, but only the Sorcery is lawful. Any use of magic, or even the ability to use magic other than by a sorcerer is heresy. You corrupt the souls of all who fall in your shadow.” Now he stood in the stirrups and dismounted. “I am Lausaw, come to remove your scourge!” He pulled a glowing orb of slick protoplasm from the air about him, dripping its green, electric slime, and aimed to throw it at Yendor. Danse moved faster than a deer and was between them, her dagger slicing at the pulsing fireball. He had already committed to throwing it and it was cleaved by the dagger. Lausaw grabbed her by the wrist, trying to wrench the knife from her hand, as she kicked him in the back of the knee. Yendor was up and had his knife, but his sword was in the tent. The soldiers were down from their mounts and came at him simultaneously. Yendor had thought to stab the sorcerer as he fell but had to change course. He turned to put space between the soldiers and himself, but that was a mistake. Thinking he was fleeing, they thought he was a coward and charged harder.

Now heat came from Lausaw’s hand, burning Danse’s wrist. She fell to her knees screaming and dropped her dagger. Lausaw curled her arm behind her back and they both got to their feet. He got his other arm around her throat. “Heretic!” he shouted. “I have your woman!” Yendor turned and the soldiers flanked him. “Surrender!” Lausaw called. “or I’ll kill her right here.”

Yendor had only been a wizard for a day. He didn’t know anything. For a fleeting moment he was beaten. There was no way out of this. But then a fury rose up in him unbidden. Perhaps this fury has arisen in everyone in such times; the inability to accept the situation. Usually followed again by resignation at the futility of it. But this time, Yendor’s fury escaped captivity. He shouted and a curling, freezing whirlwind formed on either side of him and he released them to devour the soldiers. Each a mirror of the other, the winds turning one clockwise the other counterclockwise. The soldiers swords were ripped from their hands, their limbs thrown and twisted like ragdolls, they were sucked high up into the air and thrown into the darkening night.

Lausaw redoubled his grip on Danse, using her as a shield. He had no idea what Yendor could do. He wasn’t doing anything that Lausaw recognized. Yendor wasn’t following any teaching Lausaw knew of. Lausaw didn’t know it, but Yendor wasn’t following any teaching at all. The sorcerer held Danse but he too was held. He could do nothing while he had her. She struggled, writhing like a viper. Yendor Picked up one of the swords dropped by the soldier. better than his in every respect; lighter, sharper, longer, better made, plainly. Out of the dark, lightning came down and struck it, filling it with power and wrath.

“Stay back!” screamed Lausaw. Then, eerily, the sorcerer’s horse came to him and knelt. Lausaw crabstepped back to it, pulling Danse with him. He struggled into the saddle, and the horse got up. Yendor sprung toward them, but without removing his grip on the girl to take up the reins, the sorcerer turned the horse and trotted into the night. Full dark had descended and Yendor had no idea which way they had gone. He went to the campsite, stirred up the fire and pulled out a brand. He could find no tracks. “I hate magic!” he said.

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Honoring Stan Lee

I’ve always wanted to be an artist. When I realized I could draw Snoopy, it was a real eye opener. It wasn’t long before I was drawing superheroes too. I would draw them as I made up my own adventures for them.

I honestly don’t remember a time in my life without comic books. When I was little, they didn’t cost much, and my parents kept me in good supply. When I got older, I bought my own and amassed quite a collection. It was never worth anything because they were all read cover to to cover. Repeatedly. I’ve always loved DC as well as Marvel, to some extent: Batman and Superman and a few others, but by far my favorite were all Marvel brand comics. They were less goody goody, and if they got beat up or found out, that situation didn’t disappear in the next issue. If you liked Marvel comics, then Stan Lee was responsible for that. He co-created the vast pantheon of Marvel heros with the talented bullpen of artists they had.

It was his idea that the Fantastic Four not hide their identities. Why should they? (Then people didn’t always trust people with super powers, including the police, another “realisticย  departure from conventional comics wisdom.

Spiderman decided to hide his identity and it was a good thing, because a graying, sarcastic publisher of newsprint periodicals hated him immediately!

This isn’t the place for a blow by blow origin synopsis of all the Marvel heroes, I got my education here. But the style of making the heroes have ongoing lives that were in conflict with each other and the world around them was truly groundbreaking and that was 100% Stan Lee’s doing.

Stan Lee also tried to make the origins of the heroes make sense; at least relative to comic books. The Fantastic Four were subjected to stellar radiation, the hulk the result of a nuclear accident, Spiderman was bitten by a radioactive spider… There was a lot of fear and unknown dangers of radiation in early nuclear age.

The X-men were a special group because they were all mutants. This meant they were born the way they were and society’s fear of them was a great metaphor for prejudice of all kinds. This was a special topic for Stan Lee (I can’t seem to call him Stan, or Mr. Lee…) he worked to show prejudice was wrong on many different levels. There’s legitimate criticism to be made that comics have been slow to champion women, and LGBT people, and even people of color. I believe Marvel comics in general and Stan Lee in particular, have worked hard to combat prejudice, but we are all blind to our own shortcomings. Just as America has always been a place where equality is an ideal, but a work in progress in reality, comics have work to do. But that work was begun by Stan Lee and comics owe him an undying gratitude.ย 

Stan Lee took a medium that was largely without elements of real life and injected those into comic books and changed the way the world sees itself. Thank you Stan Leeย  Excelsior!

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Danu Goddess of the Primordial Waters

“Rolled in the midst of never-ceasing currents flowing without rest forever onward.” Rig Veda1,32,10.

Halloween is coming, and with it, Samhain, the ancient, pagan holiday from which it is derived. Samhain is the Celtics holiday which marks the coming of winter and the death of the deciduous plant life for the year. By extention, it also memorializes all the life that has past that year. This passing from the life of Spring and Summer to the death of Fall and Winter is where the idea of Ghosts and Otherworld creatures roaming our world comes from.

The Goddess of the ancient Celts is called Danu. You will be told that this Goddess is specific to the Irish Celts, but the river Danube which runs through Germany is named for her as well. There is another water Goddess even farther from Ireland named Danu. In India. While researching Danu, for a painting this Halloween I found mention of her, and the belief by some that they are the same Goddess. I found that the Indian version of Danu, which is in the Rig Veda, has been demonized just as the European one has. In India she is the mother of Vitra the dragon, who is defeated by indra. Finding out she’s a dragon only makes me like her even more. Here is an abstract painting of her, rendered in ink in honor of Inktober.

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Birthday

Ok, gang, it’s my birthday, so I’m going to show you guys all my favorite treasures!

The Force is strong in this one.

That time I filled a chest with treasure, buried in the yard, drew a map and took Gabriel on a treasure hunt the next day.

Adeliaย  our baby girl!

This is @rosehillenart, the love of my life!

Here’s a newborn Gabriel! (he’s 3 now)

I usually post a picture then share to social media, changing the caption for each picture, erasing the previous caption. I’m going to try just piling the captions on each other to preserve them and you’ll have to try your match up the old captions with their pictures.

aptions with their pictures.

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My Theory on The Man in the High Castle

Here’s my theory on “The Man in the High Castle.” There will be spoilers a bit. The underlying theme of TMITHC is that in the world the characters inhabit, America lost WWII. The Nazis developed the atomic bomb 1st and dropped it on Washington DC.
The next important element is that movies from alternative realities exist that depict various other outcomes of the war, most notably the US winning WWII. These films somehow travel from alternate realities to the one in TMITHC. Eventually, it becomes apparent that the films are brought by people traveling from the various realities. My theory is that since the atomic bomb seems to be the deciding factor in the war, the bomb has rent the fabric separating these realities.
In quantum physics, we learn that we cannot know both the speed and position of any quantum particle. Measuring one variable affects the others. This is known as “the Uncertainty Principle.” Furthermore when a substance is heated, it expands, because the molecules become excited and move around more. When an atom becomes excited, it’s electrons’ orbits jump to encompass a larger area.
In TMITHC, I believe the travelers jump from one reality to another because of the rift from the atom bomb and the nuclear level heat and vibration caused by the bomb. I haven’t read the book because I want to finish the series 1st without spoilers and I haven’t had a chance to see the 3rd season yet, so it may have been explained already without my knowledge. Maybe I’m right maybe only partly. Maybe I’m dead wrong. Maybe they never say. Let me know what you think.

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Halloween!

“Ahoy Mateys!” ๐Ÿฆ‡ ๐Ÿ‘น๐Ÿ’€โ˜ ๏ธ๐Ÿ‘ป๐Ÿ‘ฝ๐Ÿ‘พ๐ŸŽฉ๐Ÿ‚๐Ÿ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ•ธ๏ธ๐ŸŒœ๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒ›๐ŸŽƒ

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Friends Always

When I was a kid, there was a phrase that meant “great!” It was, “Out of sight!”. “Man, this cheeseburger is out of sight!” usually, “out-a-sight!”ย  I was going to to call this painting “Friends are out of sight!” because friends are great, and each of these 3 friends are there for each other even when they are invisible. Ghosts dissappear, black cats can’t be seen in the dark, and the moon seems to disappear once a month. With these three particular friends, they are still right there even when they can’t be seen, but real friends are there for you even when they’re not actually there. You know they will stand up for you, and encourage you, and protect you even when you are apart. Now, that’s “Out of sight!”

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Pirate booty! (No offense)

TBT to this picture of me as a pirate. I had to give up this sweet pirate coat when we moved to Oregon.

Ahoy, Mateys! Ye have found the treasure!ย  Shiver me timbers. Thar be the Jolly Roger linoprint, the pirate Ship print (that is definitely not haunted by the way. Harrr!), and of course, the classic “Adventures of Dinosaur Space Pirate!” to pass the time bellow decks. With International Talk Like A Pirate Day coming up on September 19th, ye best shake a peg leg & hook yer booty today!

Just click on the picture ye want to claim yer treasure!

Dinosaur Space Pirate

 

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Blessings

Blessings to all this holiday season!

 

Welcome to our Blessings Center! Here you can ask for a blessing. We will bless your home, your marriage, your pet, your business, your new endeavor, your family, or nearly anything you would like. Just fill out the form and we happily bless your request. We will even be happy to bless you.

I am an ordained Minister of Peace, and bringer of blessings. I am happy to send you blessings.

Please note that if whatever it is that you want to have blessed is important enough to ask for a blessing also deserves every effort you can make for your hearts desire to be truly blessed.

A blessing is no substitute for medical treatment, hard work and loving care.

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