Spartans!

Portals

The Enigma Response

 After having served at Area 51 for many years Jim Freedom found himself vaguely curious about the rumors then circulating in the press (this would be the mid 1960s) about UFOs and the seizure of a craft that was itself being stored at Area 51. Very familiar with that base and aware of the many adjacent "areas" to it, Freedom understood very well the insane level of security and how compartmentalized the areas were. 

Was it possible? 

He posed that question to his boss one day, his commanding officer, while driving into 51. His boss was quiet for a while, at last responding with: "Jim, I don't want to hear you mention anything like that, ever again, if you want to keep your job." Then it was silence the rest of the way.

What an interesting response. Which of course could be taken either way!

Yes, there are craft here, keep mum about it or you break your security clearance and will be fired.

No, and if someone hears you posing that, you'll be fired.

There's never any clarity! Its just an enigma response.

This was taken from Annie Jacobsen's book, Area 51. So far, an excellent and informative read.

An Uncensored History

I am currently reading Area 51 by Annie Jacobsen. I'm about half way through it and must say I'm thoroughly enjoying it. It has barely touched upon UFOs or UAPs or any of that particularly interesting subject, but has been a great expose on the founding of the base, its early uses with the U2 and now the A-12 Oxcart.

Really easy read as well. 

I'm curious as the book unfolds if we will dive into the UFOs more as it popped up on a list of books to read subject wise.

As a side note. I've been reading a great deal of literature about UFOs, dating from the 1940s to the present and I have to say I have become decently informed about the Cold War and antics of the CIA and other government agencies. Quite a bit of eye-opening.

Good Stuff.

A Chalice of Stone

Another Gencon

 Another Gencon has passed, marking somewhere around 20 that TLG has attended, taking a slight hiatus as we did 2017 to some year. It was a good show. Very different than our first way back when in Milwaukee. There, or is it then, it was smaller, tighter and seemed filled with a wild abandon of what could bes. Like a newly opened frontier waiting for the intrepid explorer.

Now it is huge, 73,000 attendees I heard, with a vibe wholly different. Now there seems success at every turn and we are all part of some massive cultural movement . . . not so much a wave, as during or just after the wave, a seemingly never-ending surge into the worlds of worlds.

We've all come so far, but not so very far at all.

A House of Sorcery

He stole to the wilderness, in the shadows of the Holmgrad Mountains, a land that overlooked the Gray Coast. Here no man, nor dwarf, dwelt, for it was the haunt of frost giants in the winter and stone giants all year round; dragons, small and white, prowled the craggy rooftops. Coming to an ancient path he had discovered in his many adventures he followed it to a small hidden vale. He brought with him 4 goblins, skilled in the use of stone and water.

There he built his house.

But it was no house that one might take notice of, it was roofless and without walls. With sorcery he threw up walls of air so that no wind, no tempest, storm or fog could bother him. Deep beneath his feet he poisoned the earth, hardening it so that no beast could crawl up from below. For a roof he cast out a net and captured the light of the moon and the warmth of the sun, and his vale knew only a temperature he cast. A dweomer he cast over it all, anchoring it to the rocky walls and made the whole reflect light so that any who might see it, from any direction, saw beyond it or around it and took no notice.

And so his House of Sorcery came to be.

He cleared a small patch of earth and cast runes into it, hardening it to stone. He rooted the stonework deep into the stone as tooth in bone; it turned black from his sorcery. He summoned water with another rune for he knew the goblins worked best with water as their tool. More runes he lay into the earth, and at the last the rune of mirrors; the portal opened, taller than intended and wider still. He commanded it then to open upon the words: Heiga ish Ea Tumna. He stepped through and cast another, so that he could see into other realms. With his sight he saw many things and he set to casting runes to cross into other realms.

His home became a place of twisted misery, begrimed corruption; a caliginous stain of groping evil, whose every thought rose unfettered of consequence, stripped to its uttermost ruin. It drew creatures from the edge of hate, and they ever lingered on the edge of his House of Sorcery seeking they knew not what.

~ Tales of Aihrde, Of Trigal and his House

Dragon Rider

 

Gods & Monsters A Mystery

In building the TLG publication history on the Trollwiki I've run into a few mysteries. The latest is Gods and Monsters by James M. Ward.

I have three folders on this product. The first is TLG 8017 with a ton of text files in it. The second is TLG 8017-1 with a folder marked 2010, a price quote from a printer and the ad copy. The third is TLG 80172, with the actual print files in it, but no text or cover files. 

The copyright date on the book on the print file in folder 80172 is 2009. The price quote to have it printed, located in file TLG 8017-1 is 2012. It is not signed, though this is not unusual with me and the printer.

There is no print file in folders 8017 or 8017-1. 

The question begs if 2nd printing is 2012, when was the 1st? Or was the 1st in 2012.

Here is my best guess what has happened.

The original was printed in 2009. This might have been done in soft cover format in our shop. Then in 2012 we printed the second printing via Walsworth but failed to update the copy right date (those were hard years with just me, Tim, and peter on deck).

But that leaves TLG 8017-1 in the cold. It is probably one of two things: 

1) This would have been about the time that Tim and I were working on inhouse hardcovers. It was partially successful and I think Gods and Monsters fell into this experimental stage (along with CKG and Monsters & Treasure of Aihrde). The TLG 8017-1 is a stock code that represents the first hardcover printing of which there were only a few hundred.

2) I simply annotated the softcover with the -1 in order to mark the softcover version as the 1st printing.

Another option is that there was never a soft cover version, or the records for the original walsworth hardcover have been lost. 

It is a mystery that warrants some more investigation.

Horror

 

For the Fleetest Moment...

Just before noon they spied a gauzy stain in the distance, rising across the brilliant blue sky. There a flimsy smoke rose in no discernable pattern. Largely white, likely with several sources, the smoke acted more lazy than hazardous. 

Eurich took note and gently touched heels to Blue, picking up the pace. The heavy war horse obliged but did so with some noise of hoof upon the turf. Though he sensed the subtle change in his companion’s demeanor. 

Ava, spurring her paint to a trot pulled up alongside him. “Perhaps a more subtle approach.”

“Perhaps.” He did not slow his steed, but let her spur forward and ride alone across the wide vale. By the time he reached the center of the depression she had rode up its shallow flank, abandoned her horse, and crawled to the top of the rise for vantage. 

Folcgard’s pony kept pace with Blue, though with some effort.

As Eurich began crossing up the rise the lazy smoke turned black, rising in sudden violence, fed now by fierce heat and new fuel. Ava rose from where she lay, abandoning stealth, and walked a few steps forward, her short bow in hand. As Eurich passed the paint where it stood expectantly watching, that horse followed, capping the rise next to the ranger.

Eurich stopped. The rise gave way to a cacophony of clamorous violence. The bellow of a flame newly caught, terrified screams of a woman who hope had left but the fight had not, animals braying curses, the shouts of a child, and the resounding thud of iron on bone.

Down the long slope stood a small thorpe of stone and wood houses with sod roofs. Two of them burned, the fire having passed from the roofs to the walls. A third house stood untouched. A low wall lay upon the forest side, holding some sheep, a lone steer, and a milk cow that bellowed its fear. A smattering of men moved about, some bodies lay on the ground, one being cruelly hacked at by its assailant. Some distance from the violence, down on the slope beneath where Eurich stood, were two children. A small girl holding some mewling cat and a boy before her, maybe 10 or 12. The boy held a woodsman’s axe in hand and stood off a tall, gaunt-looking man who with a glaive resting on his shoulder approached them with the grim certitude that only those who murder without compunction carry.

“Do not kill the boy.” Eurich heard Ava say it, though her voice was soft and quiet. Even so, the man’s blade cut the boy down, the child’s axe held futilely in front of him. As he fell the door to the unburnt cabin burst asunder and a woman broke out, bloodied and disheveled, shouting some name the flames consumed. A man pursued her laughing, with wild gestures to the house, and his comrades. 

For the fleetest moment Ava saw Eurich’s face. The tensions of the long journey were gone, fear and hope, joy and loss, all left the man astride that steed, replaced now with a serenity one found on the death masks of the ancient Ethrum. But there was no serenity here, for a violence of rage washed over her from him, punctuated by the grating sound of his blade as he freed it from his scabbard. 

Blue felt it too, more so than any other creature in all the world. The transformation in his rider’s being was instant and passed through to the horse like a wave of constance. Even before the blade cleared the scabbard Blue’s muscles unwound and the primeval furor of the horse’s lust for dominion over all things was unleashed. 

The two launched down the hill before thought was put to deed.

The green turf flew and the ground shook. Such was the horse’s passage that Eurich’s helm, slung as it was on the saddle horn, fell away, thumping and tumbling after the mountain of muscle and steel that bore down upon the man and child. 

Ava leapt astride the paint, “Folcgard! Eurich’s to battle!” She tore after them.

The dwarf watched her vanish over the rise and with little thought dropped the mule’s lead and spurred his pony on. Stout and bred of a long line of sure-footed steeds the pony broke into a run faster than one might expect and bore the dwarf over the rise. He rode with hands free to uncase his long-hafted battle axe and opened up with a dirge of war that those folk of Norgorad Kam are like to sing before enjoining battle above ground or below.

Eurich bore down upon man and child, driving a tumult of wind before them. The man tossed the girl hard to the side and braced himself to drive the glaive into the horse’s broad chest. In mere seconds the horse crossed the space and was upon him. Blue lowered his head as if to ram the man and the bandit saw an opening, and lifted the glaive to smite the beast in the neck instead. It proved his undoing for in that moment of shifting hesitation from one obvious target to a smaller one the horse threw its head to the side the metal but grazed its neck and was thrown high. With that the force of the charge carried man and mount past the bandit, but not before Eurich in a cross-body swing decapitated the brigand, sending his head tumbling across the green sward.

Shouts of fear and consternation rose from the village as bandits spilled out of the house and from behind it, a dozen or more. Their easy raid turned foul but the promise of riches the knight bore in saddle and gear offered motivation to join this new fight.

The first of them stood his ground, sword, and shield in hand. The others rushed forward. Blue drove fully into the man, driving the shield upward into his chin, shattering his jaw even as his bones crumbled from the force of several thousand pounds of muscle and bone. The man fell beneath the horse, its charge unbroke as it trampled the man into the turf, driving hooves into the man’s groin, disemboweling him as it thundered into the tumult of the rest of his companions.

Eurich paid no heed to the madness beneath him but leaning forward he let his sword arm drop, the blade’s point nigh touching the ground. Even before they rode into the pack of bandits Ava’s arrows began to fall. One striking a shield, another the ground by the men, a third transfixing a bandit’s calf. She shot wild from horseback.

The knight plowed into the cluster, lifting his blade in a wide arc, he severed the arm of one man at the shoulder and brought the sword down to crash with ruin into another’s skull. Eurich broke through the press and plowed into the village wall knocking stones hither and yon. Turning he saw the bandits in full press rushing him. Turning Blue to the left he brought his sword arm to bear even as the first of them pressed in on him. He clove flesh, rent bone, and showered blood upon wall and yard. But they were hard on him, one upon the wall, another stabbing at Blue who in turn slung his massive blue-black head into the man’s face, breaking bone and rupturing the globe of his eye.

                                                                    ~ Excerpt from Pools of Dunhollow

It Wasn't the Chemical Brothers!

It was Tricky! 

Unlikely Encounters

The below is my favorite picture of my brother, Davis, and I. Now to clarity, Davis is the one that got me into RPGs back in the early '70s. We shared a room in those days, as middle children that's just what we did...I will point out everyone always calls Davis the middle child, but not me, there's just no justice in the world...shared a room, shared hobbies. 

Anyway. Many years later I was traveling back from Gary Con. Well, I think it was Gary Con, it might have been one of our own conventions. It was definately cold, as that is my field jacket on the seat between us. But I would have had it for Gary Con too.

We'll go with Gary Con. 

At any rate I was traveling from Lake Geneva, and took the bus from Kenosha down to O'Hare to catch my outgoing flight. Davis had left weeks before and had been traveling all over South East Asia. I had barely heard from him. Nor did I know when he was coming back. Just at some point in the near future, as is Davis' habit. 

While standing in security the phone rings and its my brother. He asks for updates. Where are we. What are we doing and so forth. I began giving him the updates. We chatted for a minute but both of us were having to dodge a lot of noise. I finally asked him where he was. "

"I'm in security at O'Hare."

"Fuck me. I'm at security at O'Hare."

"Which concourse?" 

I rattled that off. "What the fuck (we both cuss too much). I am too." Or some such dialogue. I then asked him to hold up his hand. He did so.

There he was, about 50 people in front of me.

We hung up and once through that nightmare went to catch our separate flights back to Little Rock, I think we were like 3 gates apart. 

That taught me too things. It is a small world. But also, its a troll-lord world!

The irony is we both got on our planes and then the weather shut us down for about four hours and we sat in those lovely metal tubes until take off.

Milk and Cereal

This wandered me back a few years.

Five Doors For Me

Five Doors for Me

Momma said to sweep the floor

But Dust I leave

Gegel Gegel Gegelmesh

Five doors for me.

Pappa said to chop the wood

But cold he will be

Gegel Gegel Gegelmesh

Five doors for me.

Momma said to fill the pail

But she will have no tea

Gegel Gegel Gegelmesh

Five doors for me.

Pappa said to close the gate

But goats go free

Gegel Gegel Gegelmesh

Five doors for me.

My folks said to feed the babe

But soon they will see

Gegel Gegel Gegelmesh

Five doors for me.

Note: The Gegelmesh is a word for the Five Pools of the Wretched Plains, where lies the Homeless House and where the damned dwell in bewildered torment. Five doors lead to these hellish planes, each a cavernous mouth of the dragon Huadan, a creature of Ornduhl’s spite. The Five Doors is a euphemism for hell. “Five Doors for Me” is a nursery rhyme taught to children, letting them know, that if they do not do their chores, they will go to hell.

This is a nursery rhyme where originates the saying "Five doors for me" which basically translates to "I'm going to hell." Said in jest or fun or fear as befits the speaker. 

Dwarves

Mordius

 

McMinnville, Oregon

 McMinnville, Oregon. 1950

Real or Imagined

Mac Brazel didn't think much of the debris that littered his land after that July storm back in 1947. His primary concern lay with the sheep that wouldn't move across the debris field but rather worked their way around it. By all accounts he had picked up a few of these balloons that tumbled down from the sky. As a caretaker of the Foster ranch, his primary job was herd control, fencing, and general land management. Weather balloons falling from the sky was part of it. Probably a very tiny part, but a part, nonetheless.

When the storm delivered a debris field hundreds of yards long it was more than he and his pony, or even his truck, could handle. With that conundrum he reported the mess to the local sheriff in Roswell, who in turn let the Air Force know. 

What follows is pretty common knowledge.

The ironic thing is, that no matter where you fall on Roswell, if you buy the Air Force's final report, or the skeptic's view of what really happened, that fact remains that despite being on the front page of the Roswell Gazette and very briefly the newswires, the Air Force managed to so utterly bury the story that it wasn't mentioned again for 30. Despite all the hubbub around flying saucers, UFOs, strange lights in the sky, abductions, etc, this story remained buried. The only story where the Air Force (Army Air Corps at the time) admitted to having a flying saucer.

Brazel left the Roswell area not long after, moved west and continued to work ranches. He would never talk about the incident in public, and by most accounts of his children, in private either.

The story vanished. Brazzel died in '63 and the whatever it was, didn't exist for a long time. But Brazel entered the history books and has become a part of the mythological landscape - real or imagined - of the United States.

What an amazing tale.

Codex of the Planes & Beksinski

In working on the Codex of the Planes, I found this picture to be one of the most awe inspiring. It is a painting by the Polish artist AdZislaw Beksinski. It, along with alot of his art, captured the mood for the planes.

Here is a small excerpt:

"Gating into the Abyss is a step into madness for the gate lies before a multitude of gates whose number the sages affix at six hundred and sixty-six, but this is only a truth that they understand. The true number is indefinable. Stepping through the gate one comes to the Wearisome Path, there to walk through ether that takes one through a world of colors that fill the nostrils with the scent of dead flowers and tastes much like terror feels in the gut as one falls from a high cliff. But the path ends so that one looks upon a vast field of monoliths, each a thousand feet high of jagged stone. These are the Mansions of the Thrall and they are like fingers of bone thrust form the earth. The sky is dark orange with streaks of white light that burns the eye with a physical hunger for food. The light catches objects here and there on the pillars, casting it back in images that flitter now and again across the sky like a giant canvas. The top of each escarpment, each pillar, range from flat to jagged. Some seem to move, to grow and shed as they do. Here and there lights spring up in the orange dark, small, distant flickering lights. Some clinging to pillar sides, others atop them, others still in the canyon like gulfs below. These are Travelers, or reapers, demons or some such creatures that haunt the fringes of the Abyss but seek the comfort of light in the glooms of this place."

                                                                ~ Codex of the Planes

Two Five Zero

 A fast paced, hard-hitting blood-letting adventure. Designed for a single night' splay and lots of characters....

On the Road Offices

 I've been traveling a bit lately, but the Troll goes where I go. Here are some pictures of my two temporary office encampments.

Broke & Plenty Tavern

The more famous of its many taverns is the Rocking Bottle, a place known for its intrigue and drink. It has rooms to let in the back. It is rumored that the Mayor’s Wife, Lady Kalie is frequently there incognito. The Broke and Plenty lies down by the dock and is slightly cheaper, but one gets what one pays for. 

                             ~ from: Codex of Aihrde Expansion Ursal Main, the Town of Allis (coming soon)

To Battle

 

Fillineous Lunch Box

I found myself wandering down Memory Lane the other night, headed to Woe-be-Gone, that little corner of the mind that harbors yesterday.

What got me on the Lane is rather strange. I got to musing about my childhood, nothing in particularly mind you, just some errant thought, and it occurred to me that the Germans probably have a word for nostalgic gymnastics and then I thought, we need one here, in America, a word that signifies that faint, warm memory of some past event that can never be. 

"Like lunch boxes." I thought to myself.

Man I loved that lunch box. Everyday is was the same food. A thermos of some apple juice, a peanut butter and jelly (apple, the true jelly) sandwich in a clear sandwich bag, with the long fold tucked i; a bag of Taco Doritos (there were only two types of Doritos in those days, taco and regular) also tucked in a bag and some type of brownie or cupcake or whatever mom put in there for dessert. I remember the weight of it. It was solid too. It felt like you had something, something to hold on to. Opening the lunch box was pure gold. The lid, tight and snug gave way with a simple pull, revealing the tightly back case of order and calm. Everything was there.

That lunch box was gold. 

Interestingly I can't remember what designs I had on my lunch boxes. Was it Green Lantern? Surely it was Tarzan. Maybe Scooby doo, or Speed Racer. I can't actually remember. I don't even remember the thermos. Scraping my brain for some vestige of a thought, lost in the jumbled tumble of could-of-beens and did-happens yields nothing but the faint memory of the sound of the lunch box opening.

We definitely need a word for this feeling. Maybe Fillineous: a nostalgic feeling of some simple thing that is lost but remembered fondly; a traveled road whose location is lost.

Castles of Anglamay - Aihrde

Inspiration for Castles in Aihrde, as appear or will appear on the updated maps. They were all found on pintrest, the first four are real world castles whose names I failed to write down! All of these are in Anglamay:

Castle Anglamay

Castle Clarion

Castle Hereswyth

Castle Mons

And the Free City of Royon

Anatomy of a Castle

 A helpful little illustration. My favorite thing to browse...anatomy of a X. Castle, flower petal, ship, sword... good way to learn useless stuff!

Castle Let in Aihrde

Castle Let, of the County of Kleaves

 

Castle Capua in Aihrde

A render, but nonetheless, a good concept for Castle Capua, ancestral seat of the County of Ceeana in the world of Aihrde. 

Castle Aachen Aihrde

The kingdom of Aachen in the world of Aihrde is lead by King Baldwin III who dwells in Castle Aachen, constructed by his great great Grandfather Baldwin I. This is much how I picture it (Spis Castle in Slovakia).

Jack's Saloon

I had to come back...

 I know.

Determining Life - The Drake Equation

As recounted in Howard Blum’s Out There the Drake equation was the brainchild of a young radio astronomer working at the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Green Bank, West Virginia. Radio astronomy was in its infancy and Frank Drake was a second generation adherent. Radio astronomy had reared is pretty head in 1931 when Karl Jansky working at Bell Telephone Laboratories kept encountering radio interference that he could not initially track down. After some home-brewed experiments he discovered the heavens above and beyond earth were filled with radio static. This discovery led to a the new science that landed young Frank Drake in the small, remote  observatory in the wilds of West Virginia in 1959.

The source of these radio waves was not clearly understood and there was a great deal of speculation as to what we were hearing; they ran the gamut from thunderstorms somewhere on earth being bounced through the atmosphere to waves being released by distant nebulae only now just washing the earth. But Drake began to speculate that perhaps they were waves emitting from distant planets. Maybe it wasn’t just stars and galaxies, but planets. Why not? His math showed that the smaller telescope in Green Bank could “hear” noise from 10 light years away. Why not something more? He posed this at a lunch at Antonine’s Diner to his colleagues.

As Blum relates, one of the astronomers challenged him with a french fry with a so what? attitude. Perhaps, Drake replied, the planets were the source, and the source lay in extraterrestrial civilizations. He then pitched an idea on how to figure this out. By choosing a specific frequency that was the most logical for a civilization to use (this is a whole different tale) that might be able to “hear” them. It didn’t hurt that this frequency also allowed them to search for magnetic fields, and for that they could certainly get funding from the government. They would need about $2,000 to begin their search. He was given the go ahead by the head of the observatory, because, well scientists like to science, and he built his relay and begin listening. Though he only got one hit from his gear it did not dampen his enthusiasm, in fact it was something of a catalyst for the creation of the Order of the Dolphin (another story, and was some of the driving force behind the SETI observatory).

Two years on, in 1961, the Space Science Board of the National Academy of Sciences invited selected astronomers to gather at Green Bank for a meeting. There, amidst news of a Nobel for one of the invitees and discussions about possible life on other planets Frank Drake posed the Drake Equation, the equation that became and remains the standard for determining the number of technologically advanced civilizations in the galaxy.

The Drake equation is thus:  N = R × fp × ne × fl × fi × fc × L

For a more thorough discussion of the equation head to the Seti website.

From this small beginning in the hills of West Virginia begins a long discussion of the possibility of life on other planets, and where that life may be in their arc of development and how, if at all, that life may interact with earth.

Go check out Howard Blum’s book Out There. It is replete with a history of this and other weird science that circles the whole UFO phenomena.

Heavy Metal Magazine

Early Heavy Metal Magazines were amazing, all manner of new art, weird stories, new perspectives, a look forward to the world as it might be. Just an all-around different vibe.

The list: Heavy Metal.

Red Gums Raw - The Story of Oisoth the Eldritch Goblin

 Long ago when the world was younger and the dwarves new come to the world Aihrde, many of the dwarves set out on their own, leaving the lands and Kingdoms of their kin behind. These dwarves, the 14th Realm as they were called, dwelt in the wilds singly, in pairs, or once in a great while in groups. When the war between the god Ornduhl and the dwarves began, it is these dwarves that he visited with his wrath. As is known, his brother Narrheit convinced him that the dwarves bore some power that no member of the Val Eahrakun could overcome. It was a lie of course, but it put the fear in the Ornduhl, who would not make open war upon the dwarves. His assaults became more subtle.

He took to the wilds and found the dwarves that dwelt there, far from kith and kin, and he came to them  as a wind and spoke to them. He played upon their desires, their jealousies, their secret thoughts – for few minds of mortal were hidden to the Val Eahrakun – and he twisted them. Those who fell to his guile, and there were many, were cursed. They turned to evil ways, and when they did so Ornduhl was there and touched them with his breath and gave them power they could only dream of, power and immortality. But it came with a price, for these dwarves fell afoul of their kin and their breath of life corrupted their flesh and poisoned their minds to perform deeds unheard of. This was in the second Rin of the world and these were the eldritch goblins to whom Oisoth belonged.

In those long ago days, many dwarves wandered wild and free. Gladunful was one such. He wandered over many a mountain, crossed many streams. He mined precious ores, he mapped the land, he studied the weather. He did all those things that wanderers do. In time he became known among the scattered communities that peopled the wilderness. He was tall for his people and fair to look upon, with a mighty beard and beautiful teeth. These he was particularly proud of and would proclaim for all to hear his joy in rending meat with his teeth. “I grind bone with my ivory! Grind it so’s the marrow becomes a meal.” 

Few cared about his pride and fewer still his teeth. What they cared most about was his dealings, for he delt ill with most people. He shorted them or took advantage of their needs. He mocked them as well and held himself in high regard. 

As his wealth grew, so too grew his suspicion, and he convinced himself that others sought to wrest his jewelry from him and find his hidden treasures. He had it in his mind that he must gain some advantage, and thinking thusly he took himself to a rune mark that lived near by. He paid her well to inscribe runes upon his teeth, and each of these granted him some power over his fellows. One tooth marked him with clever speech. Another made him see more fair. So they were all marked.

When the runes were cast, the rune mark turned from her board and said to him: “Now only you and I know the secret you bear!” She laughed in good humor, for all knew that rune marks “kept the silence” as it was said in those days.

But Gladunful did not laugh, and he thought to himself that she could sell him out, so he strangled her in her parlor. Temporarily drained of her magics she could not fight him as she normally would, but still she struggled, until he bit her in the throat and violently killed her as an animal would.

He fled her house and spoke of it to no one, and he went back to his business. None knew the tragedy of her murder, not at first, but soon it was discovered for the dwarves were crafty and Gladunful not nearly as clever as he thought. They hunted him then and drove him into the wilds. One in particular spent many years pursuing him, the rune mark’s brother. He followed Gladunful until he himself perished in sorrow and tragedy.

Gladunful cursed his people and fled further to the east, but the word of his deeds were always there before him and he found no refuge.

It was thus that Ornduhl found him, alone by a fire. He came to him on a red wind and joined him by the fire.

“How now spirit? Leave me in peace. Be gone or I’ll curse you.”

“No need to curse the bearer of gifts. I am Ornduhl, and you have heard of me.”

“I have. And you are plague.”

“Then I have joined the right company. For you are shunned by your people like I am shunned by mine.”

“They are fools and will suffer a fool’s fate.”

“So it may be. But you are alone and without recourse, but for your teeth and the gift of that Rune Mark. But you are a murderer, a liar, an outcast.”

“I am all of those things.” Gladunful lowered his head. “Why do you plague me with what I already know. Isn’t your company plague enough.”

Ornduhl stood, for the dwarf was insufferable. “I am the Red God. I carry the Ember Sword. I alone know the mind of the All Father. I alone know the truth of the Andanuth. And I will grant you what you do not ask for. Take it as a benefice. Take it as a punishment. I do not care. But take it you shall.”

He breathed the breath of life upon Gladunful, so that it flowed through his every vein, every muscle, his very bones. The dwarf suffered pain like no other and he rose, screaming and fled into the night. The pain lay in his precious teeth, a throbbing, numbing pain. In the end he could not bear it, and taking up some pliers he pulled his teeth from his mouth, and though this brought him some relief it did not allay his madness. For always and ever after did he hear the sound of this teeth being pulled, the metal on his teeth, the grinding breakage of root and bone. Thus, he took a new name Oisoth, that is, one who hears sounds in his mind only.

Oisoth carried his teeth ever with him, tucked away in a small pouch, so that he could use them at will and when he needed.

Thus he became a curse to all the dwarves, hounding them for many centuries until at last, many years later, the dwarves of Magdul Hohle captured him, stripped him of his bag of teeth, and cast him in a dungeon made for him and him alone. There he remained until the seal on his tomb broke and he escaped.

The teeth of Oisoth were taken by order of the King to Magdul Hohle. There they remained until the Goblin Dwarf Wars, when the upper halls were during the Second Goblin-Dwarf Wars. The teeth were taken by a lord of men and borne into the wide world. They would surface from time to time. Magical teeth with wonderous powers. The Lord of Aufstrag found them and gave them over to Unklar during the Winter Dark. But when that god fell and his treasuries were sacked, the teeth were borne back into the world. They have since passed from memory.

For more on and to plunge into the adventures of Oisoth see Winter's Bite.

White Plume Mountain in Aihrde

We've had many requests over the years on where to place both TLG and TSR adventures in the world of Aihrde. This popped up again while I was writing the Aihrde Expansion Book Saerien Heath. I named a mountain Plume Mountain and then though, that would be cool to attach it to the adventure of yesteryear. Well turns out it wouldn't fit in the arid wastelands of the east, so I got ahold of Mac Golden of C&C fame and we started thinking.

Once it was placed, I thought maybe it's time to start doin gthis for all those adventures.

Thus, here we are.

Many of the TLG adventures are already placed, though putting them on a map would be very helpful. The TSR adventures are another thing. Placing them takes a little bit of thought.

We'll start with Mac Golden's favorite adventure, White Plume Mountain. After much discussion we decided it would be best south of the Soup Marsh, just in the edge of the Maedrumaust Mountains.

I've dropped a blue pin for it. It is in Hex Zz25. You will probably have to download it to see. Its a big world.

We've Been Duped - UFOs

Whether we recognize it or not, we have been duped.

In 1952 members of the Intelligence Community under the Truman administration called together a working study group to examine the UFO problem. The panel included 10 or so members (it varied by day and included photo specialists and Air Fore Analysts) led by the theoretical physicist Dr. Howard P. Roberton.

 After several days of discussion and analysis the panel made its conclusions and turned those over to the Office of Scientific Intelligence at the CIA. The gathering was secret and its findings marked as secret. It was first mentioned in Ruppelt’s book The Report On Unidentified Flying Objects (Ruppelt lead Blue Book for some time), though the CIA denied it. Later in 58 the Air Force released a sanitized version of the report. A more robust version was released in ’66. And through a FIOA a more complete version was released in ‘93

All that aside what the Robertson Report recommended, in short, was that the UFO were not a national security threat and in order to keep communication channels open all intelligence agencies should “have two major aims: training and debunking.” This latter could be achieved by deluging mass media with articles, shows, motion pictures etc, revealing that these are explainable and like “conjuring tricks, there is much less stimulation if the "secret" is known.” This was coupled with a training program to teach people what these sightings probably were.

Those were recommendations. Educate and debunk.

What followed were several Air Force regulations, Janap 146 in 1953 and AFR 200-2 in 1954, that both penalized military and civilian personnel for releasing information on UFOs outside official channels. Pilots began to question whether they should report sightings as it could impact their careers. And an atmosphere of ridicule began to pervade the whole phenomena.

In short the tone on UFOs changed after the Robertson Panel. Now it wasn’t one of curiosity, even doubtful curiosity, but one of penalizing and making those who reported these seem to be uneducated rubes. People who just didn’t understand what they were looking at.

So every time someone says UFO and you chuckle to yourself about “what a rube”, just remember, that is exactly how the CIA wanted you to respond.

Troll Lords at Gencon '08

 Here's a blast from the past. Gencon 2008. That Tyler Morrison, Davis Chenault, Todd Gray and Steve Chenault at our booth. That would have been our 9th Gencon. Smaller crew in those days but the spinner racks were still a thing (one of the blew out of the back of the truck some late night and another got crushed in a box stack collapse, we eventually tossed the other two).

That Troll Lord Games sign between Todd and Davis is all the remains of this stuff. It is in the print shop I believe, or the mail room.

Currently Reading...

I have just dove into the first book in the Mabinogion series by Evangeline Walton. The Prince of Annwn is one of four books that came out in the '70s. They are based on the Welsh stories of the same name, which I know next to nothing about. It might actually be nothing about.

Regardless of past knowledge I have taken the plunge. I had never heard of these books before but came across some random post on X and started taking a look. I fell in love with the covers of the books as they had that weird 1970s vibe, early 70s vibe that is hard to describe (vol 3 really caught my eye). The titles too as they are volumes but branches. That book to the right is the First Branch in the Mabinogion. I've never run across that but absolutely love it.

So with cover and titles in hand, I scoured ebay until I found the books in readable, affordable form and scooped them up. They've been on the read table since they arrived. I just finished up reading Blum's UFO book Out There and an account of WWI called Poilu and felt the need for some good old fantasy. Particularly since Blum's book was very frustrating with a great ending and the WWI book was amazing but a little depressing (read it). So on to the Prince of Annwn!

I'm only about 50 pages in but am loving every minute of it. Walton has a superior writing style. It is vibrant and engaging and epic in its feel. I feel like I'm passing through a myth.

That is the volume, or Branch, that caught my eye. I could begin to tell you why. 

Epic Cinema

 This is one of my favorite movie scenes. Pure epic from beginning to end.

UFO/UAP The War Department's New Releases

I've been reading a great deal of UFO literature these past few years. It began in Roswell but escalated to a host of books from Keyhoe's urgency, to Dolan's exploration of the Security State. It didn't stop there or in between.

There are many things about this phenomena that are strange, both earth-bound and interstellar (maybe). Simple things like the strange editions of Cpt. Edward J. Ruppelt’s "The Report on Unidentified Flying Objects.” Ruppelt was head of Project Blue Book and published two editions of his book. In the first he concluded that there is something out there, he didn’t know what but was sure we’d find it. In the second edition, published a few years later, he recanted all that and ridiculed the movement, even though just months before he was publicly talking about the real nature of the phenomena. Interestingly the copyright dates on both books are the same, though they were published 2 or 3 years apart; and after the second edition he died at the age of 35. There are the simple affairs like the pre-drawn conclusions of the Condone Report of '69. The latter is very interesting as Professor Condon’s conclusions, that it is all bump kiss, are contradicted by the report itself. His very report.

This is only the tip of the ice berg in this literature.

At any rate. The journey has been very informative, enlightening even. And enjoyable. I hope, as my journey continues, to begin posting here more regularly about all the nuances out there. My thoughts and mental ramblings.

I will say that the whole phenomena is strange. It is very strange. Peopl are, and have been for a long time, seeing things. They are seeing something. What that is is anyone's guess. 

Anyones. 

Even the government admits now, as it has admitted in the past, that they don't know what these things are. They don't know what they are doing. Only that they seem under intelligent control.

With that in mind, as I begin to collect my thoughts to put to paper I thought I would post a video here. I've downloaded the War Department's latest releases. This bundle of about 20 videos of UAP/UFOs are pretty strange. No real saucers yet, but plenty of orbs. 

So I'm posting here the most interesting of them, at least of those I've gone through thus far. It is marked DOD_111688964. It is an MP4 File.

I leave it to you to guess what this is.

More in the near future.