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Covid-19: The Chinese virus of fear

Covid Is Real, But…

Covid-19 is a direct problem for an extreme minority of people. The vast majority of this infected group are very old and/or very sick. The rest almost certainly have something else going on that has strained their immune system.

For this small percentage of infected people, Covid is real and potentially life threatening.

To mitigate this danger treatments are available and vaccines are being tested.

In short, while it is a pandemic, it is one that modern life and technology has to the capacity to handle with relative ease.

Ironically, these same things are magnifying social discord into bigger problems than the actual virus. Continue reading Covid-19: The Chinese virus of fear

Statues Of Limitation: Occupy 2.0 The Anarchist Edition

The Slippery Slope Of Society Woke

A statue among statues.When tyranny and social justice go hand and hand, it is time to make a stand for conversation. Today, I pick statues.

Democracy requires participation. The Founding Fathers of the United States of America prioritized free speech. The First Amendment to the Constitution states:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Or as George Washington said, “(If) freedom of speech (is) taken away, (then) dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep, to the slaughter.” Continue reading Statues Of Limitation: Occupy 2.0 The Anarchist Edition

Uroborus, Two Chickens With One Sneaky Shot

Emlis grips his unstrung bow. Purchased with a month of promised labor, it is his greatest treasure.

He kicks a pebble off Endless Road, the smooth street his life has been focused on. To the right, trees and grass crowd a narrow gravel path going straight north.

Travel to the edge of Eden, slay a beast of Northwild and return before his road crew moves on. This was the bet he made while skipping lunch to fletch an arrow.

The lone missile is secured to his back, across shoulder blade and spine. The steel tip points to his shoe’s worn heel, and the hawk feathers brush his bony shoulder. Its shaft is white cedar. The best wood he has found since arriving on this forsaken world. Continue reading Uroborus, Two Chickens With One Sneaky Shot

Uroborus, Men’s Night Out

Uroborus has no moon. So, its brightest nights are star lit. Emlis blinks at the twinkling things too far away for his imagination to grasp. He rubs his arms, wincing as his callused palms scrape like sandpaper.

Farts and the foul breath of a dozen and more naked men crowd around him. The dim light hints at their mix of hardy humanoid races.

He has broken dirt with this crew for weeks, working on the Endless Road and the multitude of paths branching off to the north and south. The dwarves and the single elf have the gift of nighteyes, but this does not save them from the cold blowing up from the Southwild’s winter.

Emlis clears his throat. “It’s like a white dragon is breathing on us tonight. Anyone willing to risk a fire?”

A gruff voice says, “Fire would bring the monster horde, dumbass.” Continue reading Uroborus, Men’s Night Out

Uroborus Does Not Favor Loners

The sun beats down on the sweat-drenched back of Emlis Naedan. The tan young man cracks stone with a steel-headed maul. He swings with feverish intensity, pushing his lean physique to its limit. Darkness is coming and his road crew will be left to the night’s monsters if they do not fulfill their day’s labor quota.

Emlis winces as a solid hit vibrates through his shaft and rattles his teeth. It is unfair work, but this alien world is as far from fair as his homeworld is distant.

A dozen and more companions from a half dozen races toil alongside him. They are the road crew serving a two hundred and fifty mile stretch of the Endless Road between two of the great cities of Emlis’s new world. Continue reading Uroborus Does Not Favor Loners

Around Uroborus, Hide from the Road Hag

Purple skin flutters in the wind, stuck to the ribs of a mammoth-sized monster long dead. A vegetable garden circles it, attended by an elder woman wearing a swath of hide cut from the dead beast.

Abel turns from the Endless Road and leads Termie towards the lone lady. The two men shuffle bare feet, making their coarse tunics and pants sound like blades being sharpened as they approach.

Abel raises his hand to show off the chevron tattoo across his wrist. “Hail. We need water, food, and shelter. We offer labor to repay. As proof of trust, I have tattoos of service from seven cities.” Continue reading Around Uroborus, Hide from the Road Hag

Around Uroborus, the Only Man to Survive

Buzzards circle the ruins of bold settlers. With a bare foot, Abel steps on a warm piece of what had been the lone building. Black and shiny under the sun, it is back-breaking granite covered in unbreakable adamantine resin. A treasure from another world, the machined block had fit with thousands of others in a master-craft of stone joinery.

Naked and grim, Abel paces out the foundation of its humble size. No bigger than a small tavern, it nonetheless had the makings to survive the hammering of any battering ram carried by man.

Foot-prints of the monstrous horde have churned the earth like a farmer’s plow. He steps across the tracks to a pile of black stone and crushed bodies.

One wild-haired survivor weeps on his knees, as skin-bare as Abel. Continue reading Around Uroborus, the Only Man to Survive

Around Uroborus, for Love or for Pride

The monsters come, and the man prepares. The road is endless, and Abel Hart steps to its edge. In the distance, screams and snapping wood echo. His caravan is being torn apart under the setting sun. Nothing he can do with a dancing blade or hardened leather against a horde of wild beasts, so he strips off his armor, weapons, and gear.

Abel continues to strip until only his tattoos cover him. Seven runes mark his flesh, each one the stylized symbol of a city he has served on this endless path.

The woman he loves is at both the finale and the beginning of his journey. The beauty he will marry must be won by looping this world and earning a tattoo from every city along the way.

The screams scatter. Their meager defense must have collapsed and panic set in, dumbing them to the final lesson on Uroborus: strip and surrender to survive. Continue reading Around Uroborus, for Love or for Pride

What Am I?

Eighteen of my riddles in chronological order

1
What must you do to hold interest?
What tricks with ways that end?
What does a newborn do?
What distance is slowest the first time and boring each time after?

2
Needs money and an infection to rise
Is soft in the morning but hard at night
Can keep hands clean while being fulfilling

3
They taste like summer’s sea
They come from deep beliefs
They divide and weaken
Muscles they will strengthen

Continue reading What Am I?

Respect Is Earned

Harmless Hamlet grows. It is an eclectic settlement founded by adventurers and populated with men, monsters, and even some women.

In a tall tent, Colgrevance stands with his arms spread as his orc squire attires him in green-tinted full plate. He is the defacto ruler of Harmless and the sheriff for the whole region.

Jutting out his chin, Colgrevance rolls his shoulders and squats. “Feels like it fits, but how does it look?”

“Magnificent.” The orc dips his head and shuffles his feet.

“Be honest, Quad.”

“You are magnificent, Sir.”

Colgrevance snorts. Quadagh was born in the way of orcs a month earlier, eating free from the womb after his mother was slain. Colgrevance took him under his wing, raising him to be a squire during the curcial imprinting and growth that transforms an orc infant into an orc man.

“Fine craftsmanship from a past age.” Colgrevance clips his sword and helm onto his hip and his shield onto his back. “Martle has done well refitting this armor for me. I must also thank Pipit for recharging its mystic power. It takes discipline to praise useful people you despise. This is especially important for irreplacable casters.”

“Yes, Sir.” Quadagh furrows his hairless brow. “Praise people you despise.”

Continue reading Respect Is Earned