I did not think I would find such horror when I agreed to don the Red and Black of the Guardians, sure I figured I may have to fight and die in the service but I never dreamed of seeing such things as I saw this past Moot. I was on patrol with Sir Philip, a warrior a few years my senior but having served a good many years more than my meager two so I felt at ease paroling the border lands looking for bandits and the dreaded Ran-coons. Patrol that night was surprisingly calm considering it was the night of the dance of Pan where patrons had been known to go wild and tear each other limb from limb, as much as I feared such a sight I had Good Philip at my side so I tried to keep a smile and not to show my fear and inexperience. We had made the track around the border and had only a few minor encounters with beasts and fae and even came out of each alive and even unscathed when we found ourselves a the place of the dance. I have to admit my blood ran cold at the sight, many better men and women have entered the dance and have ether never returned or have woken up forever changed. My first instinct was to run for it,but then Sir Philip placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and I felt my courage rallied. little did I know how so very much I would need such courage.
After we stood at the edge of the Dance for a few minutes talking to the Sisters, Lady Nightshade and Lady Kat of the Healers, two of the bravest I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, few are as skilled in the healing arts as these two, we got the call. Over the communicator a crackling voice was heard. My blood ran cold as the muffled words came across with a report of a strange presence on the border between the residential quarter and the temple quarter. Knowing if a Ran-coon or worse had broken the wards and had mad it into that area hundreds of innocent souls would be doomed, Sir Philip raised his Scepter of Light and charged across the prairie, trough the Dance it’s self. I don’t know if it was his rallying cry or my own inexperience that made be do it but I followed. the next few hours are a blur to me as I battled threw the Dancers. Most were already in the throws of the Madness that comes with the dance, it took every part of me to push threw them and to not slay them or be torn apart myself.
As we breached the other line of the Dancers we stopped to bandage our wounds and then as soon as I readied my lance we crossed the prairie. We crossed as if we were in flight. We even side-stepped the beast we would usually stop to battle for we had a greater mission. It seem to only take moments crossing the great prairie, I did not know then, but these were the last moments I would still have the whole of my soul.
We had made it to the Residential quarter, ready to face Ran-coons or the chaos they had brought but all we found was and eerie quiet among the homes and alleys. We had searched the area for any signs of havoc and were ready to start knocking on doors to as what the citizens might have seen when once again a crackling came across the communicator. The message was hard to hear but it told us that it was on the border with the Temple quarter so we made our way. The seen we saw I will never forget the rest of my days and I am sure if I were to have children now their dreams would be haunted by the sight. Looming in the distance was a beast both giant and tree, both demon and god. The sight was that of the Elderwillow, a sometimes friend and sometimes foe to the good peoples of the Tribes, if truth was know it sees us as little more than ants but we Guardians are not to speak of such things. We steeled ourselves and moved in, as I felt my resolve slipping I looked to Sir Philip and knowing I could not leave such a battle to him alone I readied myself and continued. as we made it to the foot of the Elderwillow we were lucky that it did not slay us then, but as we praised the gods for our luck we then seen what to our horror the beast was preoccupied with. All about were the remains of a Brother, his Stave, his Shirt of Service, his Kilt were seen hanging from the branches of the Elderwillow, just when we thought the seen could not be more horrible the communicator crackled and we saw and heard our fallen Brother’s communicator among the havoc and remains. we carefully gathered the effects of our fallen when our Sisters Lady Nightshade and Lady Kat of the Healers aroved on their transport to aid if they could. I was glad to see them for my own skills I knew were not nearly great enough to bring our brother back. As I gathered the remains I fear I stepped in what was my Brother, at least what the Elderwillow had passed of him. As I made it to the transport The real horror was found. The Sisters were in the throws of the maddening effect of the Elderwillow, Sir Philip and I tossed the remains in the transport and stood at the ready as the Sister gathered themselves and then we all retreated from the Elderwillow knowing the four of us had no chance against the beast.
This will haunt me the rest of my days, this is why in the year to follow I have dedicated myself to training to face the Elderwillow, I pray I can avenge my Brother and regain my soul.
Guardian In Training,
I know it has been a while since my last post, to be honest I sort of got lost in my own head getting ready for Pagan Picnic and PSG and during all that the changes and curve balls have not quit coming. My brain on the best of days has enough chaos in it for three well balanced people to run for the hills and in the past month that chaos has tripled and quadrupled. Pagan Picnic was a success, my art was well liked and to be honest I needed the boost to my ego seeing how I have let myself go and fall into a pit of self loathing. Pagan Spirit Gathering was also a good even where my art is concerned, praise and offers seem to come from all around giving me new hope as to the idea I may really have a marketable skill after all. Serving the community with the Guardians at PSG also gave me a boost, it was very nice to have a place again where I felt I was actually wanted and perhaps even needed. I try to hold onto these things and use them to boost me up and get me going and keep me going but then with all the normal chaos in my head comes the bitter to add to the afore mentioned sweet. In the days after Pagan Picnic I have had no less than four deaths in my sphere, mind you death in not a new concept to me, my earliest memories are of hospitals and funerals, but his is different. Of those deaths one was a dear friend, a friend not much older than I and a father to boot, in fact one who had just became a father again. His death has hit me in ways I still don’t fully understand but the ways I do shake me to my very core. I have never worried about my own mortality, the concept of my own death has in fact been a source of comfort to me over the years, the idea that one day I would have the answers I most want or it the atheists are right then it will just be over and I have nothing else to worry about. My friends death has thrown some dirt or light on to that idea, not sure which, but it has had me thinking about it in new ways I have not even pondered before. Pondering it I have the usual thought of “Why him? Why not some asshole!” as well as the not o common thought of “Why him? Why not me? He is needed here!”. This is the thought that haunts me. Before this I tried to cherish the good times when I had them and when the bad were here I had comfort in the idea that they would pass and that I would not live forever. With his death and how close he was to me as well as our ages and the respect I had for him it has made me reevaluate my own life. I am unhappy, saying that is and understatement. It is not to say I am not blessed, I know I am loved, it is not that I don’t think people like me or that my passing would not cause pain, I know it would, it is all in my own head. In my head it is all spirals and static, one thought feeds into another till all I want to do is make it slow down if not stop. I have felt myself slipping the past few years bit I have tried to soldier on and trust the universe to show n\me the way like it has in the past to no avail. The thought of “Why not me” while still a shadow in my mind has ran it’s course, not the thought is “What do I need to do to change this?” and the only answer I have at the moment is plainly that I have no clue. One of the fears of moving forward is that if I do, if I go where I need to go to get help what else will I loose along the way? Well I think I am at the point that the real question is “how is this life if you don’t”. I don’t fully know where this will take me, perhaps this venting is enough and I can pick myself up and move forward. Perhaps in the conversations I plan to have with people the the following days will lend light to it. I just plain don’t know. What I do know is I am tired of waiting to die and the idea of dieing for nothing while others die leaving so much haunts me. I need to live, I need to thrive, I need to do something different.
Thankyou for your time, please don’t take this as some “signing off” message but rather a venting, one that I needed to say yet did not know who to say it to. I don’t want anyone to be upset by this, this is a post to help me pick myself back up and dust myself back off. Thank you all once again. Roy
I have been thinking about this blog thing and that I need to wright something, tomorrow is the day, yeah, tomorrow.
Still figuring out this Blog thing, anyone know how I can allow comments? Did I just fix it? What is the meaning of it all? *LOL*
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I lost a lot of respect for a pagan elder today, Z. Budapest. I can understand wanting respect for your work and I even understand wanting royalties and credit when someone uses your work. But threats of hexing? Are you serious? I understood her point and her concerns till I read that she promised hexes to those that crossed her and used her work in a way that didn’t profit her or that changed her work. I have never personally seen nor heard her song/chant “we All Come From The Goddess” used in any other way than one of great respect and reverence such that I can only dream that any thing I could ever write could ever have a fraction of the Joy her work has brought our faith. Hexing is a hard topic to comprehend to me, I have know a very few of my enemies I have ever dreamt of hexing. I hope she is ready for the cost of her promises.
Alright, I know I have said this sort of thing before but I think it is time for another try. I have lived here in Troy, Mo for over a year now and aside from those in my own house hold my nearest friend if miles and miles away and for any of you that know me you know how weird that is. I have found myself up and down till I have sort of lost so much of myself in the process and it is time to regain what I have lost or to discover the new me. I have spent to much time looking out the window, browsing the net, and just waiting, waiting to stumble onto the right person or thing to get me going again or worse, waiting for my sloth and depression to crush me into submission. The time is now, the time to find what I am supposed to be doing with this part of my life rather than to just dwell on what I have lost and rejoice in what I have and what I might have. I don’t have a real clue where to start or what it will take but I have to do something. Part of this will take the help of others as I honestly am that lost that I need my friends and family to help me get my shit together. One thing is networking. I need help to figure if there is anyone close to me, friends or friends of friends I can start to interact with, I love the people in our household dearly but being to social person I am I need more going on than just this house. Second, I know I need to talk to someone in a professional manor soon, my mental ups and downs are to a point now that I think it is time to look into it. The very idea scares me, like so many I worry if I’m to far gone or if I’m to sane to actually benefit from that sort of help so I will need some one I trust to talk to before I talk to who ever I talk to……I know, I’m going in circles, hence why I think I may need the hand. Third thing is as much as I personally dislike the idea I need to look to my health as a whole soon, the year of not walking miles a day and eating out of boredom I can tell has taken it’s toll. It’s time to do something about it.
So in ending this emo rant I would like to apologize, apologize for letting it get this bad, apologize for being whiny when others need help more than I do, apologize for putting this on you who care about me, and to apologize for the nusianse I am sure to be soon. I know many of you will say ” No apology needed” but I have to apologize, you know me after all, I’m not good at this sort of thing.
Happy Easter all, but I’m feeling blah, more like the grass and less like the bunny.
Making chainmail has taught me a lot of things like time is relative, blisters are best left alone, and not everyone has armor proficiency. That being said It has also taught me something about how our society has taught us a very wrong way of looking at life. We grow up hearing “A chain is only as strong as it’s weakest link’ while true it lends the mind to think of ourselves and others as said links and in doing so we start viewing the world as a merely linear place, only ever looking ahead and valuing only the strong and that which makes us strong. But the truth is this is not a linear would and humanity is not ether, it is a dynamic world and we a dynamic people. This I see in chainmail, it is a chain but not in a linear sense but rather a dynamic one. In standard four-in-one mail most every link is connected with at least four others forming a mesh rather than a line. In the mesh no one link is greater than the other but rather each link together is where real strength comes from, a ring can even slip and come loose yet the others hold true. What I guess I’m trying to say is I wished we would be more like mail and less like chain.
So, the latest project I have been working on the past few days is another shirt, this time in aluminum welding wire, approximately 18ga. and in 1/4 inch rings. The wire I am working with I took on trade years ago from a friend and have been using off and on sence then. It is different from the fence wire I usually use in that it is tempered it seems and is ferry shiny I just finished a similar one about this time last year only in galvanized steel, it was a long and boring process but the end result was great. That being the case I have started another in aluminum to wear at festival, renfair, and cons. Now as a few of you know I am known for making armor but seldom to I make it to order but rather tend to make it for myself and sell it later. The reward of owning and wearing armor is one that few seem to understand but to those that do I count you as family, it really is a amazing feeling. That being said and to return to the original topic, owning armor is well worth the time, effort, and money invested though making it if at least having a hand in it’s creation makes the experience so much more rewarding. the problem is even in knowing this it can be real hard to see at times. Like now for instance, though I see how the pattern is forming, I can feel the strength and it’s lightness, and even hold it out to see that I am indeed making progress it is damn hard. Hard on the hands, hard on the back, and as I am finding after each birthday hard on the eyes. I know it is going to be a nice piece when I am done but for not I am done for a bit.
Well, I’m not sure where this will go or how long my half baked mind will let me keep up with it but this is my very first blog. One more place for me to rant and rave and post the stuff I see fit. Unlike facebook and the rest of the cyber foot print I have this is where I figure I will post the inner workings, or rather the train wreck, on my mind. More to come soon I am sure, now to ponder what the first topic will be.
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