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Those You've Lost
They would have to do this quietly. That was the first thing they had all agreed upon. They had waited until dusk, and returned to the Tankard Tree with as little fanfare as possible to clean up and gather what few supplies they could. And then, Maera would get to try her hand at voluntary interplanar travel.
It hadn't been her idea. While still standing in the battle-wrecked council room, she had said, "This whole idea - us going after Yaga-Shura and all - we kind of have to be able to get out of the damn city to do it, you know."
Melissan had shrugged. "How did you get here in the first place?"
It was not a plan that inspired much enthusiasm. Sarevok had reassured her (in his own richly condescending fashion) that of course she would be able to draw them back into the pocket plane. She had made it; all she had to do was ask it, and it would respond. But she had never made a practice of asking miniature planes of existence for anything, so the idea remained stubbornly foreign.
And Melissan was being so helpful she could scream. Several large and highly detailed maps of the surrounding area, the forests and mountain ranges to the east, and the deserts to the south, had found their way into the apparently endless pockets in her cloak and she was all too eager to spread them all before the party and help them guess the most likely spot for Yaga-Shura's base of operations. As she pulled yet another map of the Forest of Mir and began to unroll it, Maera glanced at Kelsey, and mouthed "Enchanted?", rolling her eyes in Melissan's direction. He nodded. She didn't know why it mattered, but for some reason it felt nice to have at least one minor mystery solved.
They were gathered in a curtained off back section of the Tankard Tree's common room, Melissan's influence having won them a bit of privacy for their planning process. "The army marched from the east," the woman said, tracing a finger over the map covered tabletop.
"Giants prefer mountainous areas," Jaheira reflected. "They tend to gather where the terrain suits their size."
"So we'd be looking around here." Imoen circled the area marked as the Marching Mountains with her fingertip.
"That's a big area to search," Maera said. "Do we know anything that would narrow that down?"
There was a snort from the shadows. "Have you forgotten the solar's words already, sister?" Sarevok interjected. "The pocket plane will send you where you need to go. Any more time or effort spent attempting to work out the giant's location with our own meager information is a waste of time."
Maera swung her gaze towards him. He'd been just quiet enough that she had been able to mostly ignore his presence for the past hour, and that had been rather pleasant. "Forgive me if I'm not quite willing to trust to some nebulous cosmic knowledge of what I 'need'. I would really love to know how the multiverse at large is making those determinations."
"You grow up surrounded by Alaundo's prophecies, and you have to ask that?"
"I must have missed the one that mentioned the street address of a fire giant's lair."
"Don't force me to explain the concept of a metaphor."
"Enough!" Jaheira glared at Sarevok, her eyes dark with anger. "If you do not cease being a distraction and an irritant, you will soon be gaining first-hand knowledge of the tensile strength of the human skull!"
"Don't worry, Jaheira," Maera said soothingly. "It's not like he's invited anyway."
The meeting broke up shortly thereafter. There was nothing to be gained from continuing to poke at Melissan's maps, and much as Maera hated to admit it, their best course, ultimately, was to trust in the pocket plane's direction. "Before we go," Kelsey said quietly, "I'd like to say good-bye to Kelvim and Mirena. I won't go into detail about what we're planning or anything, but...I need to tell him we're going. I don't want to just disappear on him again."
"Of course!" Maera replied. She took his hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze. "Take your time."
"Thanks." He slipped past the partition, and headed up the stairs.
His knock was met with a grumbling, "Who is it?"
"Kelvim, it's me." The door opened, and his brother blinked blearily at him.
"It's a little late, Kelsey. Is something wrong?"
"I just wanted to let you know that...we're going to be leaving. Tonight."
Kelvim blinked again. "How do you expect to get out of here?"
"I can't really say." Kelsey leaned closer to his brother. "I wanted you to know that something is going to happen soon, and you and Mirena need to ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To get out of town."
This time, the blink was calculated, and Kelsey felt a stab of pride. His little brother had obviously inherited their father's quick wits. "Kelsey...do you really think five people can break this siege?"
Kelsey shrugged, hoping for confidence. "We're gonna try."
Kelvim looked at him for what felt like a year, and then his head dipped in a small nod. "Okay." He held out his hand. "Then be careful. We'll be waiting."
Maera watched Kelsey duck through the curtain, and felt a light tug on her belt. "Hey," Imoen said softly. "What's eatin' your brain, Mae?" She held up a warning finger as Maera inhaled. "And don't say zombies."
"Well, there goes my one good answer," Maera chuckled ruefully. "Gods, I would gladly deal with zombies right now instead of this mess. Just...bring 'em on. A whole army of the damn things." She sighed. "I'm really hoping this works, Im. There are so many things I can see going wrong, and I know we've faced long odds before with no good plan, but...eventually everybody runs out of luck. There's a whole city riding on this. It'd be a bad time for our dice to fail us."
Her sister made a slight, considering shrug. "Yeah, it would. But you know it's more than luck that's gotten us this far."
"I know. But anymore, I've found it almost better to underestimate myself." She tapped the side of her head. "Keeps unwanted visitors from using my ego against me."
Imoen pursed her lips. The dreams of blood and horror that tore her from sleep, the cruel voices that whispered in the back of her mind - they never seemed as personal as the inner battles Maera described. For an instant, she wondered at the difference, then dismissed it. As far as she was concerned, it really didn't matter, and besides, Bhaal obviously didn't know Maera very well if he really thought telling her what to do was his best option. She wrapped her arms around Maera's waist. "Just don't forget you're not in this alone, okay?"
Maera smiled. "Even if I could, you wouldn't let me." From over the top of Imoen's head, she could see Sarevok watching them with a strangely unreadable expression. She bared her teeth at him, and he looked away. If you're feeling left out of the family bonding, maybe you shouldn't have tried soroicide as your opening move, she thought at him pugnaciously.
Kelsey re-entered, and there was a second of something almost like sad envy as his eyes fell on her and Imoen. But it vanished with a shake of his head, and he gave Imoen a gentle poke in the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"
"Gods, grabby," she said, sticking out her tongue, but she moved nonetheless.
"Squared away?" Maera asked softly, returning his embrace.
"As much as it's going to be."
She nodded as they stepped apart. "Then I guess it's time to give this thing a try."
"Strange as it sounds," Jaheira said, "I am looking forward to sleep there, instead of here. Even if the amenities are no greater."
"Do be cautious," Melissan said. "I know better than to offer you advice on how best to manage this matter, but I will ask that of you."
"Hopefully when you see us next we'll have good news," Maera said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't completely sure how to go about this process, but centering herself seemed like a good start.
Where do I need to go?
Out of Saradush. To wherever Yaga-Shura's base of power is.
Someone has to. It might as well be me.
"Cespenar, I like what you've done with the place." Imoen looked impressed, and the imp preened.
"It was big challenge," he said modestly.
The pocket plane had been transformed in the brief time since they had last been there. Cespenar had put in his fountain, but it was water that poured from the elegant white marble fixtures and splashed about the prettily tiled basin. He had not been able to help himself with the furniture, either; despite Maera's request, it was black, but the overstuffed chairs and soft sofas were so shockingly tasteful that one could willingly overlook that. There were even bedchambers – five small rooms sectioned off like cubes of stone, with surprisingly comfortable looking beds.
Maera, however, didn't see a bit of it. Her eyes were fixed on the first thing she had seen when her senses returned, and she could not force them away. Her voice was clipped and ragged with rage. "What the HELL are you doing here?"
Sarevok shrugged, the living embodiment of nonchalance. "It would seem, sister, that I have a greater use to you than you were willing to accede. How deeply ironic." He strode off towards the bedchambers, leaving an aura of intense, smug satisfaction in his wake. Maera looked around desperately for something to hit.
"Godchild. A word."
And there was the solar, appearing between one breath and the next, standing amongst them as if materializing out of thin air was the most natural thing in the world to do. And for her, it likely was. Cespenar ducked behind Imoen in a vain attempt to be inconspicuous, and the solar smiled. "Peace, little one. We are not enemies here."
"Can I help you?" Maera asked uncertainly. There was nothing worse being thrown off her stride during a perfectly good fit of pique.
"Yes," the solar replied serenely, holding out a hand twice the size of any in the room. "Join me." Maera laid her palm against the large fingers, and suddenly, they were somewhere else entirely.
The room was dark, lit only by a single light, which had no visible source, and the solar herself. Maera looked about in confusion. "What just happened?"
"There was no need for your companions to be part of this, so we are elsewhere."
"What is 'this'?"
"Education. There is much you must learn."
"So I've been told."
The solar tilted her head. "You have been placed in the center of a great work, godchild. Do you doubt the need for preparation? For understanding?"
"Of course not. I just…don't know why it's me."
"That is a lesson for another time. For now, our attention shall rest not on the external forces about you, but on you yourself." The solar gestured, and two other figures appeared. With a start, Maera recognized them as herself. One was all too familiar – her Slayer-self, cold eyed and haughty of expression, wreathed in the shadows of Bhaal's avatar. The other was rather more difficult to place. There was something subtly different about her face; this version of herself had never know gut-wrenching fear or bone-deep exhaustion. Those eyes had never witnessed violent death, never been stung with tears of grief. She was wearing a blue coat with silver embroidery around the collar, and suddenly Maera understood. She'd been very fond of that coat, but in the rush of packing to leave Candlekeep, she had forgotten it. "Do you know them, godchild?" the solar asked gently.
"I know her far too well," Maera replied, pointing to the Slayer Maera, who smirked at her. "And I'm guessing that the other one is me before I left Candlekeep."
"Very good. Why do you think that they are here?"
Maera looked back at her Slayer-self. "Well, she's always popping up in my dreams, making a pest of herself. She never misses a chance, it seems. I'm not so sure about the other one, though. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say they are parts of me."
"Indeed they are. One, the reflection of your divine essence as it wishes to manifest itself. The other, a personification of a more innocent self, before blood touched your hands."
"Why are they here, Solar?"
"Because sooner or later, you had to face us." The Slayer-self crossed her arms, looking bored. "You know, for someone with such a reputation for bravery, you're very good at running away from yourself. She is your past, I am your future. If you'll just accept that, we'll all be a lot happier. Because all this 'Get out of my head!' 'I don't want anything from you!'…it gets really old."
"She's lying," her Candlekeep-self said firmly. "You don't have to sink to her level. Hers is not the only way." A tendril of hope curled through Maera's heart, only to be crushed out of existence by the next words. "We can leave all of this behind. It doesn't have to be our responsibility. You can walk away, and be who we were before." Her voice grew soft. "Weren't we happier then? Before all the pain and fear and anger?"
The Slayer snorted. "We are anger. We are rage. We are murder. It's our birthright! It is the reason we were put on this plane! How many mortals can claim to know the reason they were born? Well, we can!" She looked at Maera, her hard eyes incredulous. "Are you honestly going to let this infant tell you to walk away from that? To put aside our destiny because it's scary?"
"Gorion did not raise us to be butchers!" Candlekeep Maera cried. "This isn't what he'd want for us, or from us. "
Maera looked at them, at the malicious eyes and angry lips of the one, to the guileless, naïve features of the other. "Solar, I don't understand the lesson. All I see are two equally unacceptable choices." Their voices raised in protest, but they were hushed by the solar's raised hand.
"Explain," she said, her face placid.
"She," Maera said, pointing to the Slayer-self, "already knows how I feel about her and what she has to offer. I may kill, but I will not murder." The Slayer rolled her eyes huffily. "But she," she continued, facing her Candlekeep self, "doesn't offer anything better. I can't walk away and forget about everything that's happened to me since I left Candlekeep. I was happy then, but I can still be happy now. There's been a lot of good to come with the bad since then. I've grown up, and no, that wasn't entirely by choice, but it's not something I can take back. I can't be her again, no more than I can allow myself to turn into her. So I don't understand what I'm supposed to learn from them."
The two versions of her faded away, and the Solar smiled. "Do you not?"
Kelsey sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, bouncing a few times to test the mattress. "Not bad," he murmured, giving the coverlet a poke. The little bedrooms were sparsely furnished, but Cespenar had obviously put his energy into quality, not quantity. He supposed that made the imp the butler, in a roundabout sort of way. He smiled, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He was fairly certain she had never had a butler before. Cespenar was quite a way to start.
She poked her head through the door. "Oh, there you are," she said. She quietly sat beside him on the bed, her eyes distant.
"How'd it go with the solar?" he prompted.
"It was…interesting. Strange. Surreal."
"On a scale of one to Having Breakfast with Sarevok, how surreal are we talking?"
That got a laugh. "I still can't believe that happened." She flopped backward onto the bed, covering her face. "Gods, and that was just this morning, too. I really need to sleep." He smiled, and was about to reach over to gently rub her stomach when she sat back up and said, "She did give me some useful information, though. We were right about the general location of Yaga-Shura's base of operations. It's in the foothills of the Marching Mountains, and apparently the pocket plane will spit us out somewhere in the Forest of Mir that will put us on the right road. Sending us where we need to go and all that." He nodded, and she stared at the coverlet, moving her fingers along the weave. After a moment of silence, she spoke softly. "Kelsey? If you could go back to a time in your life when there was nothing to be afraid of, when everything was clear, and easy…would you?"
He thought for a moment. "It's been a long time since I felt like that. Not since my father died, at least. Sometimes I do miss it, though. When the world was wide open, and there was nothing he couldn't do, because he was the smartest man in the world." He shrugged vaguely and sighed. "But I guess we can't live like that forever. No matter how much we'd want to."
She was still engrossed by the blanket. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just…I really was happy in Candlekeep. My whole world wasn't even a half mile square, bounded by walls twenty feet high, and I didn't care. Everything was so simple. Everything made sense. Now it seems like there's a million miles and an ocean of blood between me and the person I was then."
Kelsey chewed on his lips thoughtfully. This was turning into one of those conversations that need just the right words. "I admit, I didn't know you then, so maybe I can't judge, but I have trouble believing the woman you are now is somehow diminished from you were before. You've come into a much bigger world, and it seems to me that you've grown to fit it." He touched her chin, turning her downcast face to look her in the eye. "I am proud to know you, proud to be a part of your life, and I doubt very seriously you've changed so much in the past three years that I shouldn't be. Look at yourself, Maera, and tell me that the world isn't better off with the you who's here now."
There was a rueful edge to her chuckle. "How do you do that?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "You always manage to turn everything into a compliment."
"It's my job," he said, firmly. "I meant what I said about being part of your life, and that means sometimes I have to remind you that you really are an amazing woman. I take my responsibilities very seriously, you know."
She smiled. "That you do. And I'm glad. Helps keep me honest." She fumbled with the laces of her jerkin. "Ugh. I've been wearing this so long I feel like it's attached to my skin."
"That's no good." Kelsey began to help her peel off her leathers. "Your skin is much nicer than this."
"See?" Finally free of her armor, she lay on her back, arms spread wide. "You're doing it again."
"Is it a bad thing?"
She sat up just far enough to make a grab for his sleeve, pulling him down onto the bed beside her. "Never." She stared at the fabric of his shirtsleeve with the same absorption she had given the coverlet. "You're taking this really well."
"Taking what well?"
"A week ago," she said, looking up to meet his eyes, "we were still in Suldanessellar. Now I have my own personal plane, and a solar for a tutor in lessons I can't even begin to understand, and…I wouldn't blame you at all for looking at me like I'd grown another head. I kind of feel like I have."
"Part god I can handle," he said. "Part ettin?…I don't know." She laughed, and used his hand to cover her face. Pleased at her reaction, he grinned down at her, then sobered. "That's it, though; you aren't normal. I mean, you are…in a good way, but-" He paused to try gathering his thoughts. "You're human, but you're not. You're mortal, but you're not. I don't pretend to understand how it works, and I probably never will. When I try thinking about it for too long, my brain seems to seize up, like…wax in a clockwork."
"That is a really good analogy," Maera said, releasing his hand. "I may have to borrow it some time."
"Go ahead." He lay on his side, facing her. "Maybe I don't know enough to be appropriately terrified by this whole thing, but all I see is you, and you don't look any different to me."
She smiled and touched his face. "Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to have met you?" Her fingers stroked his cheek and he let his eyes close with a sigh. "Though…all things considered, maybe it wasn't luck. Maybe it was because we needed each other." She kissed his lips gently and whispered, "That's the kind of celestial interference I can get behind."
The solar's word had been true, and they returned to the material plane in a dark tangle of trees. The Forest of Mir was no spacious, sunny wood, but vine-choked and twisted. Under the heavy branches, the chill of approaching autumn made them pull their cloaks closed about themselves. Maera was reminded of the Umar Hills, and wondered what manner of spirit or spell had created this oppressive murk. She hoped they didn't have to find out.
Half a day's march along the winding forest track, they noticed a spur trail leading off a few hundred yards or so, where the ruined heap of a building stood, barely visibly through the trees. "We should check that out," Imoen said, voice hushed. It did not feel right to speak loudly; the forest might take offense.
"I do not think we have time for sightseeing, Imoen," Jaheira replied, but Maera's eyes were fixed on the ruins too.
"No, Im's right. We need to look around."
Jaheira raised an eyebrow, but Sarevok, who had brought up the rear in glowering silence all day, stepped ahead of her. "Lead on, sisters." The druid's eyes buried a dagger in his back, but she kept silent.
A cool wind sent flurries of leaves across their path as they followed the trail, and Maera found her thoughts turning again to her interlude with the Solar. Gorion didn't raise us to be butchers. The words, in a voice so much like her own, echoed in her mind, and she wasn't sure why.
"We are being watched by many eyes," Minsc whispered to Kelsey, "but Boo cannot see them." Kelsey shivered. It was like being back in Spellhold – that heavy sense of self-loathing he was sure he had thrown off by now tugged at the edges of his thoughts, whispering.
They rounded a bend, and Maera suddenly stopped so short Imoen nearly walked into her back. "Hello, child," said a familiar voice, and everything within her turned to water.
He stood there, solid as life, blue eyes, gray beard, plain robe. His hair was pulled back into the messy tail he wore when he was studying; he hated it getting in his face as he read. She'd often teased him that his hair was longer than hers, and he'd always retorted with amused good humor that his age afforded him the right to wear his hair in any fashion he saw fit. She blinked hard – it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Behind her, Sarevok coughed, a sound as full of disbelief as its nature would allow. Her voice finally asserted itself. "Gorion?"
"Yes, child, it is I," the figure said calmly, seeming to take no notice of the shock his appearance had caused. Imoen peered around her, eyes wide with hopeful incredulity.
"What are you doing here? How are you here?" Her words tumbled over themselves.
"I am here because you and I must have words. You walk a dangerous path, girl."
"I know," she said, so relieved to have the chance to speak with her foster father again her questions could wait. "I'm just trying to do my best with what you taught me."
"Are you? For what I see is a girl who stumbles about blindly, as unsure of her own strength as a hound pup, and just as likely to cause harm. Though your harm might leave a man dead. As you did me." She stared; a man born without a tongue would have been more eloquent than she at that moment. "And I see you travel now with my murderer. Would that I could be surprised, but for all your protestations of doing good, I see merely one who does what is convenient, not what is right. The road of righteousness is narrow and rocky, but you've managed to avoid the harder stretches. All the threats and lies. And the murder. Let us not forget the murders. "
"W-wait…" she stammered, but he continued, remorseless as an executioner.
"I have watched you all these years since I was cut down. Watched you slip ever farther from the innocent I raised. Watched you draw nearer and nearer to the blackness within, embracing the taint of Bhaal even as you claim to spurn it. The world may not see it, not yet, but I do. Who better than I?"
"Gorion!" Imoen cried, pleading. "Please! What are you saying? Maera has never stopped being a good person. You should know that!"
"And you," he said coldly, "my second hope. I went back out into the world to seek you, and for what? For you to be a petty thief and a dabbler in base magics. A failure, just like the others she's surrounded herself with."
"Failures?" Jaheira's voice was stiff with anger. "Old friend, if death brings such bitterness, I hope never to die."
Gorion's laugh was harsh and unnatural. "Ever the biting wit, Jaheira. Others have suffered under it. Your poor, henpecked husband for one. What a relief it must have been to die and be free of you." Jaheira reeled as if he had physically struck her, head turning from the verbal blow. "Dear Khalid. Stuttering, simpering Khalid. Did you set aside any time to mourn him? To grieve and let your heart mend? No, you left him there in that dungeon to rot. Literally. If a man is known by how he is remembered, then you've done a fine job indeed." Minsc, broad face was dark with ire, stepped in front of the druid, whose eyes were shining with furious tears, but Gorion bore down mercilessly. "Who else was left in the mage's dungeon, ranger? Your witch. Your mistress. Your oath. You gave your word you would bring her back in safety, but there wasn't anything left to bring. You failed her, and it does not matter what battlecries you make, you will never balance the scale. She was your only chance, and yet you live. Not her."
The big man's chin trembled like a child's. "We…we could not save her. Even Boo could do nothing…"
"My gods!" Kelsey could no longer contain himself. "What is this? Everyone talks about what a good man you were, and here you stand, torturing them all! Why are you doing this?"
"Ah. Kelsey. The shopkeeper's son." The hard blue eyes fell on him, burying him like a rockslide. "Rest assured, my boy. You have my approval. Who better to bed this wayward girl than you? Your hands are almost as red as hers, and you started even younger. And with your father…a masterful touch. But then, you've protested your innocence in his death so much you actually believe it now."
"That isn't how sorcery works. I didn't kill him." Kelsey fought to keep his voice steady. The battle was not going in his favor.
"Yes, I'm sure it gives you great comfort to believe that." The contempt in Gorion's voice was thick as fog. "All that power doesn't come from thin air. Now you simply kill them outright, magic feeding magic, but you had to start somewhere. What delightful symmetry, too, to begin with the man who helped bring your miserable hide into this world in the first place. Was it because you knew you'd never measure up, never be half the man he was? And was it everything you hoped for, making your mother a widow? And your poor brother…he wasn't really old enough to understand death, was he?" Kelsey gasped, and Gorion turned back to Maera, face alight with grim satisfaction. "Do you see them now, child? Do you see them for what they are? What they have helped you be?"
Maera's head was bowed, her eyes clenched shut, though that did little to impede the tears trickling down her face. "Stop it," she said in a broken whisper. "You are not Gorion. Gorion would never be so cruel." Her head came up, eyes opened, breath ragged with yet-unshed tears. "Whenever he was disappointed in me, no matter what, he always made it clear he loved me. He loved me! Even if I didn't feel like I deserved it. So whoever you are, you missed that."
The creature wearing Gorion's face laughed, but the voice was no longer his. Its form shifted, stretched, and darkened even as the laughter continued. "What a shame," the wraith chuckled, its voice like a rasp on the ears. "I had hoped to stretch the game a little longer. I suppose I overplayed my hand, but you were all so delicious. Really good self-loathing is like a fine wine."
Maera's face hardened. "How about I direct some loathing towards you, then," she hissed, pulling Daystar from its sheath.
The humor was gone from the wraith's strange voice. "You cannot hurt me with steel, fool."
"Good thing I have more than steel at my disposal." She swung, the blade cutting a wide arc through the air, her heart crying a wolf's howl of pain. She'd wanted it to be him. She'd so desperately wanted it. The wraith's mockery had torn at the bandages she had so carefully bound about her heart, leaving the wound bare and raw once more, and in her mind, she was on the Coastway road again on that chilly spring morning, Imoen holding her as she sobbed over Gorion's body. She was back in Irenicus's dungeon, remembering Minsc's roar of heartbroken rage, remembering Jaheira's fingers bruising her arm as she stared sightless at Khalid's broken remains. And she ached for Kelsey, seeing the loss that had marked his life and fed his fears and doubts reduced to a joke for the wraith's amusement. As if in response, comforting her in the only way it could, Daystar began to glow. The bright blade cut deep, and the party descended on the lone creature, their pain pushing them on. It screeched in agony, and as it died, Maera savagely hoped it felt half the hurt it had caused.
A trembling silence hung over them in the moments that followed. "It got inside our heads," Maera said, more to remind herself than anyone one. "It told us what we were afraid was true, not what actually is."
"Yeah," Imoen murmured, nodding. Maera looked around her group, at their sadly thoughtful faces, and back to Sarevok. She gave him a defiant look, daring him to speak, but he wisely chose to keep his peace. She straightened her shoulders.
"Let's get moving."
The ruins proved to be an old temple, though any trace of the god once worshipped there had long since vanished. Under a stone dome, a fire crackled, trying vainly to keep back the damp forest chill. An old woman sat before it, a ragged figure in an ancient cloak, her wild white hair half-covering her craggy face. "The flames told Nyalee you would come," she said as they approached.
"Who is Nyalee?" Jaheira asked.
"Nyalee is me, greensister, and I am Nyalee," the woman replied. "The fire always knows."
"What does it say?" Maera looked at the fire curiously. It seemed perfectly normal to her.
"It says you have come for the boy. Nyalee's boy."
"Actually, we…" But the old witch continued, her stream of thought unabated.
"Nyalee found the child. He was her own element – it was a sign! Loved him like her own, too, even though he was big as a man grown in five years. Raised him up, and such fun we had. Taught him secrets of the flames…it seemed only right."
Understanding dawned. "Your boy is Yaga-Shura," Maera said.
"Yes," Nyalee said, her eyes never once moving from the flickering flames. "You must kill him, mustn't you?"
"He leads an army that is besieging a city full of innocent people," Maera answered, unnerved by the woman's inflectionless voice. "We have to stop him."
The witch nodded. "But he still uses Nyalee's magic. The fire protects his heart, and while it does, he cannot die."
"Can you help us?" Maera swallowed nervously. "Will you?"
There was no sound but the crackle of the fire. "Nyalee should long since be dead," she said finally. "But the boy keeps her heart in the fire, too, in case he needs her." A tinge of bitterness, the first emotion she had yet expressed, colored her tone. "What sort of child would use a parent so? Keeps her heart away from her, so she cannot even die when she chooses." She looked up, and Maera saw with a start that her eyes were milky white. "He has a grand fort down the forest road, in the hills. Few will be there now as he makes war. Go you there, and fetch those hearts from the fire. Nyalee will mend all." With that, she turned her face back to the fire, clearly finished with them. Cautious glances flicked between the group before finally, and quietly, they departed.
They continued on in silence for several hours, until they came upon a clearing a short distance off the road that would make a good campsite. Little was said as the firepit was dug and the tents were pitched. Sarevok vanished to the darkness beyond the ring of firelight, and they sat, lost in thought, each surrounded by a cold circle of empty space, until Imoen spoke.
"Mae, do you remember those bounty hunters we fought outside Nashkel?"
"Which ones?"
"It was right after we beat Mulahey. We'd taken that side tunnel out of the mine, and wound up five miles from the main entrance. We were almost back when we got ambushed."
"Oh, yeah. That bunch."
"I don't really remember the fight all that well, because of that guy with the hammer." She elaborated for Kelsey's sake. "Back of the head. It was messy." He winced in horror.
"It is fortunate Branwen was with us then," Jaheira said quietly. "I am not sure I could have saved you on my own." She turned to look Imoen full in the face. "Why do you mention this?"
"Because the first thing I remember, when I woke up, was Khalid. He was leaning over me, and he was washing my hair. Getting out the blood. That was the kind of guy he was."
Jaheira's eyes suddenly glistened in the firelight, and Maera said quickly, "Maybe we shouldn't-"
"No," Jaheira said firmly. "No, she is right. That is exactly the sort of man he was. He would find something he could do, always, even if it was a small thing. And usually, it was the one thing everyone else overlooked." She sighed sadly. "Perhaps the wraith was right. I have not mourned him as I should."
"Jaheira…Khalid would understand," Maera said. "He always understood."
The druid smiled slightly, eyes downcast. "He did. He was forgiving to a fault. I never understood how one who came from such difficult beginnings could be so open-hearted."
Heads nodded around the fire, and they sat in quiet reflection for a moment longer. Then Maera said, with an almost impish smile, "Why don't you tell the story of how you met?"
"I do not know…" But she was drowned out by the chorus of encouragement, and, with a roll of her eyes, cried, "Very well, very well! If I must!" Jaheira sighed, giving her audience a reproving smile. "We were introduced by Gorion, actually, and he was so quiet at first, I was sure he didn't like me very much…"
And so the stories began, one memory happily sparking another. Kelsey slipped an arm around Maera's shoulders, and she gratefully burrowed against his side, kissing his cheek. Imoen stretched out between Jaheira and Minsc, her head in the lap of the former, and feet with the latter. "Remember the time Dynaheir slapped Elminster?"
"She did not!" Kelsey laughed.
"Well, I'm sure you've heard the stories about him," Imoen said, grinning. "He likes the ladies, and Dynaheir was very pretty. And she had that whole aloof thing going which some men really get into, except she actually meant it. So of course, she didn't appreciate being appreciated like that, and let him know."
"He should have kept his hands to himself," Minsc said decisively.
"You left out the best part!" Maera admonished.
"Oh yeah…she did it right in front of Duke Eltan. We were all in his receiving chamber, and Elminster got a little handsy, and SMACK!" She brought her hands together in a sharp clap. "It echoed."
As the cheerful chatter continued, Maera gazed beyond the edge of the light, where she could barely make out Sarevok's lonely outline, keeping watch with his back to the fire. She gently shrugged Kelsey's arm from her shoulder and stood, holding up a finger to indicate she would be right back. Sarevok did not immediately acknowledge her, and she stood silently near him for a moment, her cloak wrapped around her like a shield, unsure of what to say. When he showed no sign of speaking, she sighed, and turned back, but before she had taken a step, he said, "I suppose I should count myself fortunate the wraith had no words for me."
"Don't you have to have a conscience to have someone on it?" Strangely, she found her heart wasn't in the barb.
"You would think that."
"Anybody I'd know?"
"Yes, actually." He continued to look up at the sky. "I put her in your path with no more thought than one would give a loosed arrow." His head dropped, and he added softly, "I used her very poorly. And she did not even have the decency to hate me for it." Maera stared at his back for a moment, then turned, and walked back towards the fire. She didn't have to ask who he meant.
There was another gale of laughter from the circle of firelight. "Poor Khalid was sooooo embarrassed." Imoen giggled.
"He should not have been." Jaheira's smile was warm with remembered affection. "It was an honest mistake." Maera sat back beside Kelsey, curling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder. "Kelsey," the druid said, turning her smile to him, "You have listened enough. It is your turn. Tell us about your father."


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Being a freelance web designer, this is my speciality! We create a variety of different websites, specialising in Content Management Systems such as WordPress. Nearly a quarter of websites on the Internet today are made using WordPress. It gives you control and allows you to post what you want, when you want, without having to go through a web developer. Whether you're a startup business, restaurant, online shop or individual looking to have a portfolio created, we make websites a piece of cake.
The whole reason I started this, graphic design. I always felt that user experience is the most important thing. Websites should give the end user a fun and enjoyable experience. They should be beautiful to look at. That is why branding, logo design, colour schemes and graphics need to be presented with the utmost care. Every little thing represents your business and therefore you and what you care about. You need to make sure it is done right, and with Cayke Media, you are in safe hands.
Security has always been a very important factor of website development. However, with the number of websites available online increasing exponentially, isn't it important that your website is secure? That is why I have spent much of my own time developing pentesting and ethical hacking skills so that I can ensure that your website and company's data is safe.
In setting up my website, Will has been a joy to work with.
Punctual, organised, courteous and patient. And a happy client.
Will was a pleasure to work with. He did a fantastic job making my vision into a reality! Would definitely recommend Cayke Media.
I could not be more delighted at the service that Will and Cayke Media have provided me with, I had quite a complex brief and found the idea of creating my website very daunting. However, working with Will was an absolute joy, he has created a website and SEO strategy that supports my brand perfectly. Will is very creative, responsive and professional, I would highly recommend Will and Cayke Media.
Cayke Media is an independent web design and media creation company brought to you by Reigate based freelance web designer /computer science teacher, Will Bathgate. We specialise in the design, creation and hosting of websites for local businesses in the Elmbridge and Surrey areas including: Reigate, Redhill, Crawley, Dorking, Guildford, Cobham, Esher, Weybridge and more. It is our vision that websites should be beautiful and engaging, whilst providing users and clients with an unforgettable and unique online experience, regardless of device, be it via desktop computer, tablet or mobile phone.
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Steve Jobs once said, "Be a yardstick of quality. Some people aren't used to an environment where excellence is expected."
United Kingdom

subset: commoncrawl


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The Supreme Court held yesterday in General Dynamics Corp. v. United States that the federal government can invoke the state-secrets privilege to prevent a government contractor from raising a defense to the government's breach of contract claim.
The federal government terminated a contract to build a type of stealth aircraft with two defense contractors due to extensive scheduling delays, exposing the contractors to severe contractual penalties. To avoid a default judgment and raise a defense, the contractors were required to file a claim in the Court of Federal Claims. They argued that the breach resulted from the government's failure to provide "superior knowledge" necessary to successfully fulfill their contractual obligations. Although the trial court found that the contractors made an initial showing that their defense was valid, the government invoked the state secrets privilege, claiming that allowing the contractors to proceed with their defense would expose government secrets to the public.
The Court of Federal Claims ruled in favor of the government without addressing the contractors' defense, finding that allowing the contractors' defense to proceed would risk exposure of government secrets. The contractors argued that the government should not be able to win a default judgment against a private party by invoking the state secrets privilege to deprive the party of its defense.
The Supreme Court, in a unanimous opinion authored by Justice Scalia, held that the public policy problems with allowing courts to adjudicate claims because of the risk of exposing government secrets also apply to defenses. "It is claims and defenses together that establish the justification, or lack of justification, for judicial relief; and when public policy precludes judicial intervention for the one it should preclude judicial intervention for the other as well." As a result, the Court prevented both the contractors and the government from recovering damages and held that the lower court must "leave the parties where they are" at the time the lawsuit is filed to avoid injustice based on incomplete evidence.
Alliance for Justice highlighted this case because the state secrets privilege has been used extensively by the government to force dismissal of cases brought by victims of torture inflicted during the Bush administration, thereby undermining accountability for illegal conduct.
By siding with the government in this case, the Supreme Court extended a privilege that needs to be narrowed, not expanded.


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Archive for the 'communications' Tag
Business and drawing again
One more post about business and drawing. It's strange even to look at those two words together. Our society makes easy connections between business and writing or speaking, business and science or math, business and research or analysis. But referring to business and drawing sounds to us like combining seriousness with play, and how can that be a valid endeavor?
At this time of global shifts in everything, it's appropriate to change up all our assumptions: to play with our seriousness and to be serious about our play. Marketing's concern is the whole person of its clientele, the heart and soul of customers as much as their intelligence. Using traditional tools and approaches in marketing and problem solving limits the choices unacceptably: our perceptions must widen far beyond technical parameters and encompass factors that seem at first glance to be only distantly related to our issue. Allowing ourselves to perceive this wider and more detailed picture brings us into contact with possibilities heretofore hidden from us.
Using drawing – or shall we just call it making marks – puts us directly in touch with possibility, and a way of perceiving that makes accessible a new kind of objectivity and analysis. The practice can be applied by the individual to dissect an issue or meaningfully use down time; it can be used between two people to assist in finding common ground and to clarify communications; and it can be used in groups to boost engagement and simplify teamwork.
Though radical, this concept is not at all fanciful. I picture people routinely slipping into mark-making as they converse, having become habituated to accessing this non-linear way of perceiving. We have been imprisoned by our left-brainedness, and we will discover new worlds of possibility by loosening those bonds through drawing.
Please draw
Are all you business leaders, managers, and salespeople out there aware of Dan Roam's new book, The Back of the Napkin? I listened to a panel discussion with this author and several others, though I've not yet read the book. Today, I'm suggesting that anyone involved in commerce who could use a new approach should pick this one up.
The nugget of brilliance at the heart of Roam's manifesto is that we are visual beings and that we respond with unprecendented engagement to pictures. If this seems an obvious notion, why is it that our adult world traffics so little in pictorial communications? We may surround ourselves with visuals, pictures on the wall, cool screensavers, movies. But we seldom if ever use our human capability to draw.
It's one of my main rags in life, that we so rarely cultivate our natural gifts: our abilities to move, and sing, and draw. So it's truly heartening when the urgings of so many creativity experts are ratified in the business world through vehicles like Roam's book. Future civilizations will look back at this time as one when humanity at last began to realize its full potential. The progress made possible by the wheel's invention is minor compared to the evolution we will achieve through full use of our natural capabilities.
Roam's idea, in a way, is a simplification of the mind map; it's not a new concept, but it's presented in a nicely accessible form through the book. Would you like your business challenges to be a little easier to handle, your relations a little deeper and more fun, your communications more clear, your progress more obvious? A great place to start is with your own visualizing; just pick up a pen and start making marks.
Playing by the rules
I'm working on a writing job currently that has lots of rules, including a long list of words one is forbidden to use. Why? It's a rule, that's all. Rules are rules. We stop there.
Rules seem to be necessary in society. Wherever three or more are gathered, there the rules shall be. It's the basis of civilization, the only way we know to approach peaceable life together.
Rules are usually established by wise leaders, who set down these maxims for good reason. But the hoi polli who must live by them soon forget their reason for being, and simply accept them as rules and therefore indisputable. The human propensity for fear keeps us in the thrall of rules and dictums from on high. For the most part, we let these forces do our thinking for us.
At some point, though, you can step back from the rules. You can consider what your own judgment is, apart from givens you've been force fed. You can make the conscious decision to adopt or reject the rules. In a way, that's what branding is all about: communicating to others your own well-considered set of rules and regs. It's certainly at the core of innovation, where not being bound by rules is the first practice.
At the end of our lunch yesterday, my friend apologized for doing all the talking during our time together. I laughed, because it wasn't her fault at all: it was simply that I asked her a stream of questions as we ate. I discovered this little trick many years ago and employ it regularly. Why?
1. It's fun. I already know about me, I don't know about the other, and asking lots of questions is how I manage to eek a lot of learning out of encounters and conversations.
2. It's inspirational. Not only do I gain bunches of new info, I also exercise my perceptive abilities and practice deep mining skills. One learns to make questions increasingly evocative as the dialogue advances.
3. It's compassionate. How often does anyone demonstrate sufficient interest in you to ask you a series of questions about yourself? I think we very rarely question one another; we hardly ever talk at length about ourselves; the pressures of the business world seem to care nothing for our inner selves and we are dangerously repressed.
Asking questions is another core quality of the creative life, yet it's something that our schooling and society have de-emphasized, very much to our collective peril. I hope you'll seize and run with the very next opportunity to grill someone compassionately. You'll benefit from the learning and they won't know what hit them, but they'll appreciate the catharsis nonetheless.


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TV Critics Pick Their Favorites
By PJ Bednarski
Though the Peacock may be struggling with 18-49s, the Television Critics Association gave NBC 10 nominations for its TCA Awards, which will be handed out July 23 during the critics tour in Pasadena, Calif.
NBC comedies occupy three of the five slots for outstanding achievement in comedy (My Name is Earl, The Office and Scrubs). UPN's Everybody Hates Chris and Comedy Central's The Daily Show round out the category.
Oustanding Drama nominees are ABC's Grey's Anatomy and Lost, Fox's 24, and House, and HBO's The Sopranos. That grouping also is nominated for Program of the Year, with one exception: Fox's House isn't on the P-O-Y list, replaced there by NBC's The Office.
TCA does things a little differently.
Rather than picking best actor and actress, its nomination process doesn't separate men from women but by genre. In comedy, Steve Carrell (The Office), Stephen Colbert (Comedy Central's The Colbert Report), Lauren Graham (The WB's Gilmore Girls), Jason Lee (My Name is Earl), and Jon Stewart (Daily Show) are nominated. In drama Alan Alda (NBC's The West Wing), James Gandolfini (The Sopranos), Hugh Laurie (House), Kiefer Sutherland (24), and Kyra Sedgwick (TNT's The Closer), got acting nods. For the Heritage Award honoring shows for special stature, NBC's The West Wing and Will & Grace and CBS's Hallmark Hall of Fame were nominated.
"We don't give ourselves enough credit for the TCA Awards," says Kansas City Star critic and TCA board member Aaron Barnhart, who points out, for example, that the TCA honored The Daily Show in a news category long before much of the rest of the nation began noticing the impact Stewart's show had on political discourse.
The television industry's top news stories, analysis and blogs of the day.
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Breathe Me by Amica Whincop | Limited Edition Canvas Print | Art Lovers Australia
Earn 0 block buck by purchasing this item
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Limited Edition print of 30
- Printed 100% cotton canvas with archival pigment inks and finished with 4 coats of art varnish
- Stretched on a frame using quality kiln dried plantation pine stretcher bar including hanger & fittings with brown framers tape, and felt bumpons on the back.
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Sequin Lip Cropped Pullover
Galentine's Day Plans? This cute cropped pullover is perfect for the occasion. This top can be dressed up with flares or dressed down with joggers for whatever you and your girlfriends have planned!
- Ella is 5'7 and is wearing a size small
- Materials: 100% cotton
- Runs true to size
- Sizing Chart


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Growing up my daughter would tell me that these were the best Sloppy Joes ever! If you have the pre-made mix for my No Alarm chili in the pantry, this is a quick solution for dinner tonight!
Category: vegetarian
No Alarm Chili
Growing up my mother served a great bowl of chili over rice pretty regularly during the cooler months. It's one of those meals that can bring back childhood memories with just one spoonful. This seasoning blend is very close to the recipe I grew up with. Not too spicy but full of great flavor. It can be made with or without beans so it appeals to all chili lovers!
Heat level on a scale of 1-10…. probably 3
MAKE A MIX: Follow the recipe instructions for packaging the dry ingredients in a sealable bag or container and stock your pantry shelf with several of to prepare quickly for a variety of occasions.
Sweet Cornbread
This recipe makes a lightly sweet and fluffy pan of cornbread that is sure to please everyone at the table. We've been known to eat the leftovers for breakfast the next day, drizzled with a little honey butter!
MAKE A MIX: Follow the recipe instructions for packaging the dry ingredients in a sealable bag or container and stock your pantry shelf with several of to prepare quickly for a variety of occasions.
Taco Dip
Did you make the Taco Soup Mix from the other day? Here's a bonus recipe using that dry blend. Fresh and flavorful, this easy dip recipe is great for veggies as much as it is for chips.
Try it as a spread for soft tacos or burritos for an added pop of flavor.
MEAL TRAIL IDEA: Try it as a spread for soft tacos or burritos for an added pop of flavor. If you have left over soup, drain the liquid from the soup and use the veggies (and optional meat) to make a soft taco or burrito.
- Spread the dip on a soft tortilla (flour or corn)
- Add a portion of the drained soup
- Top with avocado and/or cheddar cheese
- Fold as a taco or a burrito
Taco Soup
I was inspired to create this favorite blend of seasonings when my family raved about a Taco Soup served at a church potluck one Sunday afternoon. After asking my friend for the recipe, I realized it was one that used so many packaged seasoning blends and canned goods that one recipe could feed an army. I rose to the challenge and set out to dissect the ingredients for each of those seasoning packets and set out to create a recipe that made just enough soup for one family at a time.
This is still one of the few meals my pickiest eater will always get excited about!
MAKE IT A SOUP MIX: I like to keep several bags of single use mixes on hand to whip up a fast batch of Taco Soup on a busy day. My 'picky eater' can make this on his own more easily when I have a bag he can just cut open and pour into a pot with the liquid ingredients. I print the soup recipe and place it in the basket where I store the bagged blends so everything I (or he!) need to know is right there.
Make a Meal Trail:
Leftovers of this soup make a great baked potato topper! For this reason I like to make a double batch and plan a meal trail that week. Split open the baked potato and use a slotted spoon to scoop out the reheated taco soup, getting a generous portion of the vegetables and optional meat, but very little of the broth. Top with a generous portion of shredded cheddar and some sour cream and enjoy a delicious meal with the family!


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As the world of college basketball has become accustomed to, the Duke Blue Devils are ranked in the top five going into the NCAA tournament. Last night, however, the 16-14 Demon Deacons of Wake Forrest upset the Blue Devils. This was a very uncharacteristic loss at this point in the season by a Mike Krzyzewski coached team especially this late in the season.
It has been a very unique year for the ACC conference with the introduction of new basketball powerhouses Syracuse and Pittsburgh. Duke and North Carolina are the traditional leaders of the ACC and this year saw neither of them take home the regular season title, nor did it see either of the new inductees win. Instead Virginia, a normally mediocre basketball school, took home the regular season title losing only at Duke by 4. Before the season began this was an outcome no one would have seen coming including the traditional power of the conference Duke.
Duke had extremely high expectations coming into this season, as usual, and for the most part they have lived up to them. Highly touted freshman Jabari Parker has been even better than advertised averaging 18.8 points and 9 rebounds. The Robin to Parker's Batman has been Missouri transfer Rodney Hood who is averaging 16.3 points per game and shooting almost 43 percent from three-point range.
The difference from Duke teams of the past has been their style of play. Coach K does not have a true post presence on his roster that can be a legitimate starter so he has had to adapt this year. Parker plays almost as a center, even though his true position would probably be small forward, and has played great in that role. They have become an outside inside team that shoots a lot of threes, which is a departure from Duke teams of the past, as they have been known to play inside out through a strong post presence. This style of play has hurt them against teams with strong front courts like Syracuse and Arizona who were able to out rebound and out muscle the Blue Devils. The inside presence of Wake Forrest was not what hurt them last night, it really came down to Wake just being better on the night.
Losing to Wake Forest will not derail Duke's season whatsoever, but what is alarming is the look of exhaustion on Mike Krzyzewski's face and the fact that he was taken to the hospital after the game for "dizziness." There is no team in college basketball that goes as their coach goes quite like Duke. Coach K is perhaps the best coach in the history of the game and if his health is a real concern going into the tournament that doesn't bode well for Duke or their title chances. Hopefully Coach K can get back to full health in time for the ACC and NCAA tournaments so Duke can be the normal force they are in both competitions.
While being upset by Wake Forest at this point in the season is abnormal for Duke, it shouldn't damage their season. What could damage their season is if Coach K has to take any time off for his health concerns, but at this point that seems unlikely.
Commentary By Max Petkevicius


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text: At the Revelstoke U-Brew, why not treat yourself to a batch of Sherry wine. Sherry is a fortified wine that is made from white grapes. You can create your very own Cream Sherry or Dry Sherry. These delicious wines go great with desserts and snacks. Enjoy them as a nice sipping liqueur or even add a splash to your coffee!


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Number of Gitmo detainees that the GOP hopes to keep off mainland U.S. soil with its "Keep Terrorists Out Of America Act": roughly 250.
Number of Axis POWs detained in camps on the U.S. mainland at the end of WWII: roughly 425,000.
I really don't understand the fear some people (read: wingnuts) say they have about having alleged terrorists housed in detention centers, prisons, what have you in the United States. I'm not talking about legal complications, real or imagined, I'm talking about a fear that these guys will somehow escape and run amok terrorizing the nation.
First, even a hardcore, America-hating terrorist isn't superhuman. They can't turn into The Hulk and smash (Smash!) their way out of a prison. If they could, they would have left Gitmo years ago. They don't have super powers. And I guarantee you, there are far more dangerous and often deranged individuals already behind prison walls right here in the good ol' USA. Hell, I used to live right down the highway from what was at the time the nation's most secure prison in Marion, IL. The worst of the worst were there and I never missed a minute of sleep over their presence.
Secondly, we've already successfully housed hardcore terrorists in this country. Remember Timothy McVeigh? Or the perpetrators of the first World Trade Center attack in 1993? Some of the WTC attackers are still in U.S. prisons.
Update: TMP has a copy of a GOP scare e-mail on the subject here. Notice the nce Drudge siren included. What a bunch of bedwetting cowards. Well, not really. These guys aren't afraid but they want you to be, just like the good old days after 9/11 and the run-up to the Iraq war. A frightened populace is much more malleable to their way of thinking. Who are the terrorists again?
Update II: Oh, and look at the description of one Rep. Boehner's top 10 scary people:
OMG! If he smashed (Mustafa Smash!) his way out of prison he would probably roam the countryside spreading bad financial advice! The terror!
Mustafa al-Hawsawi
One of two key financial facilitators entrusted by 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheikh Muhammad (KSM) to manage the funding for the hijackings. Met with Osama Bin Laden and his top lieutenant soon after the 9/11 attacks.
Seriously, many of the Gitmo detainees, and probably all of The Top Ten Most Scary Men Ever, are guilty as sin and should be tried and then sent up for life. But they really are no threat to us now. Their power, such as it was, came from being free men participating in a larger organization. All of that is over for them.


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None hurt in Kirkwood house fire late Sunday
Being prepared for a home fire can mean the difference between life and death.
Firefighters were able to extinguish a blaze inside a Kirkwood home within 15 minutes late Sunday.
The alarm sounded around 8 p.m., sending firefighters to 100 Crescent Drive for a reported house fire. The fire was believed to have started in the rear of the home, firefighters said.
No injuries were reported.
Firefighters from Kirkwood, Five Mile Point, Town of Binghamton, Conklin and West Windsor were among the emergency responders.
On Twitter: @PSBABorrelli
Read or Share this story: https://press.sn/2ibIcBV


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Mr. Lincoln's Office
April 18, 2015 @ 5:00 pm - 6:00 pm$8 - $12
Event Navigation
Mr. Lincoln Returns to Körner's Folly Theater
The Cupids Park Theater at Körner's Folly will once again welcome President Lincoln in the Lincoln one man play, Mr. Lincoln's Office, on Saturday, April 18 at 5:00 PM. Space is limited, advance tickets are required.
The one hour play was presented at Körner's Folly five years ago and was very well received by the audience. President Lincoln is portrayed by veteran Lincoln actor, Peter Holland, who was nominated in 2008 for a Virginia Governors Arts Award for his interpretation of our sixteenth President.
The play takes place in Mr. Lincoln's Office in the White House in November of 1863- five short months after the bloody battle of Gettysburg, where thousands of Americans from the North and South were killed. Mr. Lincoln speaks to the audience as if they were visitors to the White House during the Civil War. He relates to them the details of his boyhood, his political career, his struggles during the war, and his hope for all Americans in the future. Holland's material as Lincoln is based entirely on the writings of Abraham Lincoln and the testimony of the people who were closest to him- his family and friends.
Holland and his wife, Christina, have their own theatrical touring company, Once Upon a Blue Ridge, that specializes in original, educational shows for family audiences.
After Holland's presentation as President Lincoln, audience members will have the opportunity to ask the President questions about his life and the Civil War. Picture sessions with the President will also be available- so bring your cameras!
Tickets are $12 for adults, $8 for children. To purchase tickets for Mr. Lincoln's Office, please call (336) 996-7922.
For more information on Peter Holland and his Lincoln performance visit www.onceuponablueridge.com.


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Back in the mid-1980s, the US CIA did not expect the USSR to collapse in just a handful of years. But Al Fin's advisors and mentors did. And they were right.
In 1986, when asked if the CIA was doing anything to prepare for regime change, Robert M. Gates, then the CIA's director of intelligence, replied: "Quite frankly, without any hint that such fundamental change is going on, my resources do not permit me the luxury of just idly speculating on what a different kind of Soviet Union might look like." __ Back to the Future: USSR
But that's alright, because "like a bad penny," Russia is falling back into the bad habits that made the USSR such a happy place in the memories of western leftists and Russian communists.
A biology institute at Russia's largest and most prestigious university has instructed its scientists to get all research manuscripts approved by the security service before submitting them to conferences or journals.
… "This is a return to Soviet times when in order to send a paper to an international journal, we had to get a permission specifying that the result is not new and important and hence may be published abroad," says Mikhail Gelfand, a bioinformatician at MSU. __ Nature
In fact, under Putin the Russian nomenklatura is 5X larger, more privileged, and more dangerous than its USSR predecessor.
"Having received almost unlimited power, the NOMENKLATURA has also expanded to unheard of size: there are now five to six times more bureaucrats in a Russia with 140 million population than there were in the entire USSR with its 286 million residents." They've filled up all the old government buildings and erected more.
… "In short," he concludes, if the nomenklatura state remains in place in Russia, then "Russia alas has no future, and the situation which exists now is for 90 percent unenviable and possibly even tragic. For this, one can say a big 'thank you' to the nomenklatura powers that be." ___ Gennady Gudkov
The USSR's famously bureaucratic lack of any sense of humour is again showing its straight face in Moscow:
Speaking this weekend, the 91-year-old [former US President Jimmy] Carter said he had offered to provide Russia with accurate maps of Syria so its pilots could actually target Islamic State positions in the country — rather than U.S.-backed opponents of President Bashar al-Assad….
"I sent him [an e-mail] message on Thursday [October 15] asking him if he wanted a copy of our map so he could bomb accurately in Syria," Carter said.
He added that the next day the Russian Embassy "called down and told me they would like very much to have the map. So in the future, if Russia doesn't bomb the right places, you'll know it's not Putin's fault but it's my fault." ___ http://www.rferl.org/content/the-kremlin-doesnt-get-carter/27320930.html
Read the article linked to above to learn what the humourless Kremlin spokeswoman actually said in response to Carter's offer.
Why One author and blogger Misses the USSR
I miss the fairy tale Marxist ideology, which placed the domestic and international orders neatly into compartments of "class struggle," "anti-imperialist struggle," "dialectical materialism," "proletarian internationalism," etc. I miss the cryogenic political structure from the politburo on down to factory komsomol committees. And I miss sparring with Soviet zombie-diplomats who clumsily repeated Moscow's mendacious party line on any given issue. Wonks like me eagerly consumed the incessant propaganda bilge that streamed from Pravda, Izvestia, and Radio Moscow as we did our morning latte, seeking to discern subtle policy shifts and power struggles between the lines. The rigidity was predictable.
… [And then, unfortunately, along came Putin] As a kid, [Putin] prowled the mean streets of Leningrad picking fights with other kids. His dream, which he realized, was to become a secret police agent. As a KGB officer in Dresden, East Germany, he reportedly cheated on and beat his wife. His mass thievery of Russian resources and his cozy relationships with sleazy Russian business oligarchs are well documented. Here's a guy who baldfacedly stole the New England Patriot owner's 5-karat diamond NFL ring, valued at $25,000. His subversive aggressions against neighboring countries are taken directly from the playbooks of Hitler and Mussolini — sans charisma. He rattles the Russian sabre as the economy slowly slides into negative territory and his country's population continues to decline. Putin has no compunction about tossing the chess board aside and making his own rules.
Unlike his concrete-faced Soviet predecessors, Putin takes high risks in a strategic and ideological void. This makes him unpredictable and the risk of unforeseen military clashes high. And this is why I miss the Soviet Union. __ James Bruno, spymaster, novelist, and blogger
Meanwhile, in Putin's Russia, the country is falling into the stifling and stagnating dual traps of censorship and self-censorchip. Of course it is not only religious themes that are being censored and self-censored. It is any topic that could be connected in any way with Russian politics and the Putin mafiocratic inner circle. Positively Orwellian, old chap!
Putin would like to rebuild the USSR both in body and in spirit. He is doing well on the "spirit" front, but he must still reconquer several nations that are currently sovereign, before he is able to reconstitute the old USSR in time for it to fall apart, yet again.
Belarus is the latest independent nation under the Kremlin crosshairs. Here is how Belarusian researcher Viktor Denisenko lays out the scenarios of Moscow's hybrid war against Belarus:
[Russia may choose one of two different approaches:] The first, which could be called "without Lukashenka," would arise in a situation in which the current Belarusian president would have somehow left his post. Moscow would then declare any succeeding government "illegitimate" and seek to overthrow it by supporting pro-Russian forces within Belarus in the name of stability and the defense of its "compatriots."
But the second variant of hybrid war would be one "with Lukashenka" still in place and the Kremlin deciding to removing him from office, first by spreading compromising materials about him and then by more active measures. In this case, Davidenko said, Moscow would talk about defending a fraternal people and ensuring stability as well.
In either case, Denisenko suggested, Belarus would likely lose and become either a Russian protectorate or be directly incorporated into the Russian Federation with the complete loss of its sovereignty. He said he does not see any possibility that Belarus could win if Moscow were intent on victory and can only hope that this situation does not arise.
In Putin's wacky world of "Let's Bring Back the Threat of Global Thermonuclear War," no possible moves are off the table.
But weird Vlad wankervich had best hurry, if he wishes to have any country left at all. Demographic decline is back in the cards, and expected to accelerate more rapidly than ever, with the steep dropoff of Russia's population of young and fertile females. Brain drain, womb drain, capital flight, infrastructure decay, a rapid rise in mortality rates from alcohol and tobacco-related causes, rising rates of IV drug use, HIV, MDR TB, and suicidal despair, are rocking the financially depressed world of Vlad the embalmer.
Russian pensioners are not getting the pensions they were promised, and state employment outside the military and propaganda bureaus is being downsized — with many employees going to work but not getting paid!
Can Russia still be saved? The proper question to ask is, can Russia's young women and girls be saved?
The answer is, not nearly as many as might have been, had Russia taken a different turn at Albuquerque.
Russia's retreat back to the USSR
Vladislav Inozemtsev, from the Center for Post-Industrial Studies in Moscow, said the likely outcome is a retreat into autarky and pauperised decline, ending in withdrawal from the global trading system. "This way leads us towards a quasi-Soviet economy detached from the world and, at the same time, proud of its autarky; towards a deteriorating economy which compensates for the drop in living standards with pervasive propaganda," he wrote.
Smarter journalists, academics, think tankers, and government officials would have seen it coming.
As a middle-ranking KGB officer who loved the Soviet Union, Putin lacked the perspective of senior officers, who knew full well the Soviet Union collapsed under the weight of its own inefficiency rather than because of Western plotting, Bukovsky says.
"It leads him exactly to… repeat the same mistakes. He wants this whole country to be controlled by one person from the Kremlin, which will lead to disaster," he says.
Putin's decision to invade Crimea was taken quickly and impulsively, by a small group of his favoured top officials. That means Putin has no one to warn him of the long-term consequences of his actions, and until he finds out for himself, he will maintain his course. That means relations with the West will remain uncomfortable, especially in areas he considers to be his "zone of legitimate interests". __ http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-26769481
The people with the most to lose: Citizens of former Warsaw Pact and Soviet bloc nations that were bullied so badly by Russia in the bad old days. They have a closer view, and can see the signs of recidivism in Putin's actions and his eyes — if not always in his words.
Russia's intervention in Ukraine has caused jitters in the tiny Baltic states of Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia, which all regained their independence with the split-up of the Soviet Union. Russia frequently complains about discrimination against ethnic Russians in the Baltic countries.
… "Putin won't stop in Ukraine," commented Ukrainian political analyst Taras Berezovets, who was previously an adviser to former Ukrainian Prime Minister Yulia Tymoshenko. "His next target is Kazakhstan."
… Mr. Berezovets said he believes that Mr. Putin also has designs on Belarus, which also has a large ethnic Russian population.
Russia is reviving the old Youth Pioneer clubs, with a militant twist!


text: Trainspotting Live tickets are available now. Don't miss your favourite film come to life on stage. This punchy, 75 minutes production recaptures the passion and the controversy of the famous novel, then globally successful film, and repackages it into an immersive production. Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting on a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f*ckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pushing and sh*teing yersel in a home, a total f*ckin embarrassment tae the selfish, f*cked-up brats ye've produced. Trainspotting is the story of Mark Renton and his friends, living through the Edinburgh heroin scene of the 80s. Harry Gibson's original stage adaptation, written before it became the famous blockbuster film, was instantly successful and controversial, and won the Sunday Times Award for Best New Play. This immersive, in-yer-face theatre production left Irvine Welsh feeling "blown away" – for avid fans this is a must, and if you've never read the book or seen the film: this is your ticket to a ride you won't soon forget. Book your Trainspotting Live tickets now to ensure the best seats at the best prices. Please note due to the nature of the venue, there are 2 types of tickets: General Admission - Customers will be seated within the immersive performance space, not on a traditional theatre seat. Allocated Seats - A traditional theatre seat will be held for each customer, within the immersive performance space.


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Photo: Peter Frank Edwards
Lobster, shrimp, and corn make up this decadent Seafood Risotto. Serve Seafood Risotto as a main dish or with Roasted Grouper and Champagne-Citrus Beurre Blanc.
How to Make It
Step 1
Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and garlic; cook 1 minute. Add rice, stirring to coat; cook 2 minutes. Add wine, and cook, stirring constantly, 2 minutes or until wine is absorbed.
Step 2
Add 1 cup chicken stock, and cook, stirring constantly, until absorbed. Repeat with 1 more cup chicken stock.
Step 3
Stir in remaining 1 cup broth, lobster, shrimp, corn, and leeks; cook 2 minutes. Stir in herbs, tomato, and butter. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Cool Inside: Hank's Seafood Restaurant by Frank McMahon and Melissa Bigner (Wyrick & Company, 2012).


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In this post, the Local Creator spotlight shines on Charles Santino. Santino is no stranger to the comic book industry. Most of the local creators I feature here on the blog are one that I run into at local comic cons. Charles was the one that actually contacted me directly, which I am glad he did and I look forward to meeting him in person soon.
Charles Santino has written and packaged comics and graphic novels for Marvel Comics, Penguin Books, Random House, Fantagraphics, and others. His credits include Conan the Barbarian, Louis L'Amour's The Law of the Desert Born, Savage Tales, Aesop's Fables, Marvel's humor title, What The–?!, and Last Gasp's Commies from Mars.
He has also collaborated with novelist and screenplay author Michael McDowell (Beetlejuice) on the psychological horror novel, Toplin, published by Dell/Abyss.
He is currently working on a few projects, such as Danny & Harry Private Detectives, a webtoon that harkens back to the P.I./Crime-noir genre through Marshall Holt Entertainment.
How did you get into comics (Do you remember your first one or the one that hooked you?)
My first comic book was a mid-sixties issue of Mystery in Space with Adam Strange, but the comic book that hooked me was the first issue of Marvel Collector's Item Classics, which reprinted early Fantastic Four and Spider-Man stories.
When did you start drawing/writing?
I've been writing since I was thirteen, but I started writing professionally in the early 1980s when I was in my late 20s. My first sale was a horror novel that I plotted and Michael McDowell finished.
After that, I started selling stories to Marvel.
Which creators influence your work?
Everything you read, watch, or listen to has some kind of influence, and nobody is completely original, but I'm not consciously imitating anyone's style or content. I have no idea what someone reading my stuff would think they see as an influence. It might be interesting to ask someone that. I'm sure I would be surprised by the answer.
Walter said that an editor once told him that his art looked very similar to an artist who Walter had never heard of.
So there you go.
What are you currently working, done recently, or done in your comics career?
Currently, I'm writing the webcomic Danny and Harry Private Detectives.
Walter Brogan is handling all the art and contributing to the script. Full pages are published weekly, on Tuesday, on the Webtoons site at Danny and Harry
I'm also writing web comic The Girl from Hollywood for the Edgar Rice Burroughs web site. Burrough's The Girl From Hollywood has been described as a fascinating cultural document about a California ranch family ruined by booze, dope and movieland promiscuity.
Still in print is Law of the Desert Born, the first graphic novel based on the work of Louis L'Amour. I collaborated on that with Beau L'Amour, Kathy Nolan, and Thomas Yeates.
What would be the elevator pitch for Danny & Harry Private Detectives?
Danny and Harry Private Detectives is a film noir comic book done in the style of a Warner Brothers cartoon.
What was the inspiration for it?
Walter Brogan's art. I approached him about doing some work for me, and he showed me a bunch of drawings of cartoon animals. He wanted to put them in a detective story.
With ideas for several webcomics projects in mind, I began scouting for artists and found Walter Brogan on a website for storyboard artists. I found out that Walter had
done some comics, mostly for Cracked magazine and Marvel's Crazy magazine.
Walter had drawings for a cast of animal characters. He had names for them. He had a premise: the cat and the seagull are private eyes. I took it from there, writing a script for a story that will run about 140 pages. Although there will be some humor in the story, the novelty of Danny and Harry Private Investigators comes from the contrast between the straightforward, crime-noir narration and the playful, amusing visuals.
Tell me about Danny and Harry, are they based on any particular detective tropes or are they original characters?
Walter told me that he based the look of Danny on Dick Powell and Humphrey Bogart. Harry has no model that I know of.
As far as personalities, I wasn't thinking of any specific characters on which to base them. I used Walter's art as a guide.
Danny's personality is fairly standard for the hard-boiled detective: cynical, tough, but smart. Harry is a bit quirkier.
In the scene where Harry follows the bad girl Pearl out of their office, for instance, he's singing Camptown Races by Stephen Foster, in thought balloons with musical notes floating around them.
Not the kind of thing you'd see in a typical noir film.
Do they have any supporting cast you would like to talk about?
"The Case of the Missing Trunk" introduces a fairly large supporting cast.
- Alfred, the elephant, wants Danny and Harry to find his stolen steamer trunk.
- Pearl is the femme fatale.
- Dutch Shepherd is the deceased criminal whose money everyone is after; we don't even see a picture of him so I don't know what kind of animal he would be. Maybe a dog.
- Butcher Cain, a rhino, is the bad guy, and he's got one set on his emotional dial—anger.
- There's also Max the bookie, Benny the snitch, and Jake the snake, who is, not surprisingly, a snake.
Every one of these characters has pure larceny in their hearts, except for our heroes, Danny and Harry.
There are also several creatures that don't look like recognizable animals because Walter just wanted to draw some creepy-crawlies that live in the sewers where a good portion of the story takes place.
Is this an all-ages comic?
It's probably a bit too strong and hard to follow for the very youngest readers, but there's nothing in Danny and Harry that you would be embarrassed to show a 13-year-old. But it's really written for adults, in the way that the classic Warner Brothers cartoons, particularly in the 1940s, were aimed at an adult audience who'd come to the theater to see Key Largo, for example.
Any Kickstarter for the series in the near future?
Possibly. Danny and Harry Private Detectives accepts Patreon contributions right now, so other crowdfunding options are being considered. It seemed possible for MHE to finance, at minimal cost, the production of an entire graphic novel and publish it online, free, a page-at-a-time with revenue being derived from crowdfunding and, potentially, from attracting a publisher to publish the book when completed, or perhaps even self-publishing. Other merchandising is a possibility as well.
When Walter and I decided to put Danny and Harry on the internet, we looked at maybe a half-dozen sites, but we ended up going with Webtoons because of the size of their audience, the formatting of the pages, the ease of adding and changing pages, and the site's direct connection to Patreon.
With this publishing model, there was no need to continue the strategy of adapting existing material or working on established characters owned by another party.
The original material would be more readily accepted by the online community and would also be cheaper to produce and more profitable.
Lastly, there would be no one to answer to, editorially.
This would be packaging in its purest form.
Which part of your creative process do you find the hardest and the most enjoyable?
The hardest part of the creative process is trying to stop thinking actively about how to solve a problem and allow your brain do the work "in the background." The answer will pop out at some point when it's ready. You have to be prepared to record those ideas the second they show up because they can be fleeting.
Once you're typing and developing those ideas, you have to let go again – this time your brain will improvise the details of the story on the fly, and they will spill out onto the page as if you're transcribing something that's already written. When that happens, that's the most enjoyable part of the creative process.
Let's talk about the stuff you have pitched to Marvel. What was the first story that you submitted? First, one published (and what inspired it).
The first story I pitched to Marvel was an original, creator-owned sword-and-sorcery graphic novel. It was politely rejected, in a timely fashion, by Jim Shooter. That was in 1983.
About the same time, Marvel Comics re-launched the black-and-white comic magazine Savage Tales as an adventure anthology, I assume as a response to the success of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
For that magazine, I pitched a short Alaskan adventure, "Blood and Ice," inspired by Jack London's stories. Larry Hama, the editor, bought it, but it didn't appear until the last issue, #8, and it was the very last story. So I got in just under the wire.
When I found out that the writer on Conan the Barbarian was leaving, I lobbied for that assignment and got it.
I pitched a parody of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for Marvel's humor comic, What The–?! and that story was accepted.
My "hit" ratio pitching to Marvel was probably about 1 to 5—one story sold for every five pitched. Frequently pitches are not formally rejected, you just never hear back from the editor.
This is common in the industry, and even name creators can't count on getting a reply.
Besides your current projects are there any other characters that you would love to write (from any company)?
Brenda Starr.
She's owned by the Chicago Tribune Syndicate. Her comic strip was canceled in 2011, and she hasn't been heard from since.
The Syndicate asked me to revive her in an R-rated graphic novel. I produced a script, on spec.
By the time I submitted it, the editor who commissioned it was gone. The new editor brought my script to an editorial committee, who were, I was told, so horrified by my story treatment that they killed it.
My version is set in the early 1950s and deals with crime and race relations in an unnamed, mid-sized American city in the north. I did a lot of homework and tried to handle it almost documentary style. They weren't disturbed by the way I handled the issue of race, but that I had dealt with it at all.
Because the original editor told me that I could jettison her supporting cast and set the story wherever and whenever I wanted, it was a simple matter to copyright the story under my own name by replacing the words "Brenda" and "Brenda Starr" with "Jane" and "Jane Doe" because other than her name, the story has no obvious connection to the strip.
So I can do it as a creator-owned strip if I want to, but I would rather that the Syndicate takes another look.
What advice would you have for those trying to get into the comic book industry?
There are the standard, clichéd words-of-wisdom and then there's some advice that might be fresh.
First, the clichés: Hone your skills. If you're an artist, draw. If you're a writer, write. And read, read, read.
The advice that I suspect is new to many would-be creators is that in addition to being a writer and/or artist, you are also a salesperson. That might sound mercenary, but you don't have a choice.
When you submit something to a publisher, you are in sales. When you go direct to the public and seek crowdfunding, you are in sales. When you set up a table at a convention, you are in sales. Read up on how successful salespeople operate.
Talent is great, but I know some talented people whose careers are either stuck in neutral or simply non-existent because they are terrible at selling their skills. Another problem: frequently these people just aren't driven, regardless of how much raw talent they possess. They'd like to wave a magic wand and produce a career. There's a sales trainer who says that the number one mistake that sales people make is not being obsessed. I know an artist whom I would describe as obsessed who has worked at his career for thirty years. After some initial success, followed by many lean years, he is making something of a comeback. I would say that this artist does not have one-tenth the talent of many others whose careers are slowly sinking out of sight, but he has ten times their drive.
What are your thoughts on the current state of the industry?
There's superhero comics, and then there's everything else.
I don't follow current superhero comics, but they don't seem to cater to the casual reader. The superhero movies have turned superhero comics into just another piece of merchandise.
Outside of superhero comics, there's more variety than there's been in decades. It's a great time for readers and a great time for creators. Publishers are trying to figure out how to make a buck.
And supposedly the pendulum is swinging back, and now readers are starting to follow artists again, rather than writers.
What are you reading now that you would recommend?
I'm reading reprints of Tubby, the spin-off from Little Lulu. I can recommend that. These reprints are out of print, I think, but not expensive. As far as new work, I've been buying Richard Corben's Shadows on the Grave mini-series but haven't dipped into it yet. It looks good.


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Medium Windscreen
Keep the bugs and dirt out your face with this clear windshield for the Buddy Kick. Short in height and easy to install!
Brand: Prima
Fits: Genuine Buddy Kick
Color: Clear
More Photos
Please check with your local Genuine Dealer about availability. Click Here to view our Dealer Locator to find the nearest to you.


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All Carry Australia Committee Members, Senior Peer Educators and Peer Educators need to read and complete this form.
A key element of protecting the integrity and reputation of Carry Australia is ensuring that its decision-making processes are not affected by conflicts of interest. This form is one of the tools we use to identify and address actual or potential conflicts.
Conflicts are situations where a Carry Australia Committee Member or Senior Peer Educator or Peer Educator could be influenced to make decisions for improper reasons, particularly for reasons that relate to their own financial or material interests. It is the responsibility of all Carry Australia Committee Members, Senior Peer Educators and Peer Educators to disclose any personal financial or material interests that could relate to their work for the Carry Australia, so that potential and actual conflicts can be addressed.
What is a "conflict of interest"?
Generally, a conflict of interest is a situation in which a Carry Australia Committee member, Senior Peer Educator or Peer Educator has a competing professional or personal financial or material interest that could have a real or perceived effect on their ability to fulfill his/her responsibilities with the best interests of Carry Australia in mind. Conflicts can create the perception that a Committee member, Senior Peer Educator or Peer Educator's judgement is biased. As such, conflicts can compromise or undermine the trust that our members and the general public place in Carry Australia as a non-biased source of babywearing information.
What do I need to declare through this form?
This Declaration of Interest Form is designed to identify and address both actual and potential conflicts of interest and other ethics-related issues.
There are four questions in the Declaration of Interest Form. Guidance and examples for completing each question are provided below. These examples are not exhaustive; if you are unsure whether to disclose a particular situation in your Form, please err on the side of over-reporting.
Declaring an interest does not exclude you from participating in the Carry Australia Committee or undertaking your role as a Senior Peer Educator or Peer Educator, it just means that we can put appropriate controls in place if making decisions about an issue that you may derive personal benefit from, particularly if it is of a financial nature. If you are unsure or would like to discuss further please contact a member of the Carry Australia Committee.
What will happen to my information?
All information provided will be placed into a register of interests held by the Carry Australia Committee. Any Carry Australia member can request to see the register.
- I have the following interests* in corporations, partnerships, businesses or other organisations that may be relevant to the activities of Carry Australia .
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