Music: Not Fade Away

The Black Heart Procession:

Music: Are We Ourselves?

Courtesy of The Fixx:


I'm extremely busy and kind of worn out (though I did get a decent amount of sleep last night), so I may not be posting tomorrow, Friday, or next week. We'll see.

The Great Weapons: Beyond These Walls 06

The common room was crowded. A handful of guards were rolling dice at a corner table, and seemed totally engrossed in their game; but most of the guards were talking. They stood together, or huddled over tables, conversing, commenting, or arguing. The air was warm from all those bodies, far warmer than the early spring evening outside, and the din was overwhelming. Miledha stopped just inside the door, feeling as if she'd walked into an invisible wall of noise, heat, and crowd.

One of the guards caught sight of her and waved, so Miledha picked her way carefully over. The doorway to the sleeping-rooms was just beyond the wide wooden bench where the guard was sitting, so Miledha would have had to pass that way in any case; she might as well stop and greet the woman. It was Ishua, a broad-shouldered guard, both taller and a bit older than Miledha, the same one who had stopped to thank her for healing her lover. Which meant that the woman Ishua had her arm so carefully around...

"You must be Diessa," Miledha said, raising her voice in order to be heard. Diessa had a narrow face and a prominent chin, attractive though not conventionally pretty, and a broad-shouldered, wiry build. One of her arms rested in a sling; seeing that, Miledha added: "I remember you now -- the elbow."

"Sha Miledha," Diessa said. "It's good to meet you."

"Elbow?" asked Ishua, leaning in with a grin.

Miledha glanced at the larger woman. "We were more than a little busy," she explained. "I wasn't looking at faces -- only wounds."

One of the other guards -- heavyset, male, with hair tightly curled against his skull -- touched her shoulder and pushed a chair over; Miledha nodded gratefully and sat, and the man turned back to the conversation at his table.

"What did you think of the flaming horse?" asked Ishua.

"I don't know," admitted Miledha. "I never learned conjuration -- of any sort. Dame Naggia said it was too dangerous."

"The Order would agree with her on that," said Diessa. Her voice was smoother than Ishua's, and a little higher; something about it made Miledha wonder if she sang. "They use it themselves, of course, but part of their charter is to hunt down diabolists and rogue conjurers."

"Yes," Miledha said slowly. Now that Diessa mentioned it, she remembered the story: the Order had been established after one of the first mortal kingdoms was betrayed by a diabolist and usurped by a flight of demons. "Serendom, wasn't it?"
Diessa nodded.

"What happened?" asked Ishua.

Diessa looked at her, but Miledha didn't remember much of the details; so she nodded for Diessa to continue.

"One of the king's advisors was diabolist named Nerrila. She tricked a conjurer named Bristell into summoning her master, a demon named Raijth, and then set it loose. Raijth used the conjurer to open the way for the rest of its wing, from its most trusted lieutenants to its lowliest troops. Then they overran the palace, killed the king and most of the court, and took over the kingdom..."

Ishua's eyes widened as she made the connection with the stories she knew: "...which became the Demon Kingdom of Raijth. Five hundred years of fear and horror. Those stories, I remember."

"The reality may actually have been worse than the stories make it sound," said Diessa. "Still... that age has passed, and the Seven send it doesn't come again."

Miledha nodded at that. She remembered more of the story, now. The demon kingdom had lasted until one of the human kings, Lidon, had brought the Great Spear against it. It had been a terrible battle, with weeks of desperate fighting followed by months of tracking and destroying the last of the demons. The demon Raijth was trapped in the palace and finally fell to the Great Spear; that was what decided the battle. "Let's hope the Order knows what it's about," she said.

The Doll on the Porch

Lilith Saintcrow threw up a flash-fiction prompt on her blog. (You may have seen the news story that prompted it already.) This was my response:

The doll appeared on the porch Friday evening, with blank black button eyes and a soft vacuous smile. Abi played with it her room, and tucked it into her bed when it was time to sleep.

On Saturday, she carried everywhere she went: to the store with her parents, to the restaurant for lunch, to the park to play. Abi was very proud of the way the doll slid down the slide all on its own. The doll was heavy, and seemed to get heavier the longer she carried it, but Abi didn't mind. When bedtime came, she tucked it into bed again, and they both slept very soundly.

On Sunday, she arranged the doll so that it sat with them in church. The doll was very well behaved. They spent Sunday afternoon at G-ma's house, and the doll was very well behaved there, too. "What a big doll," remarked G-ma.

"Abi found it," Mom told her. "I didn't realize how big it was until this morning, though."

That night, Abi carefully put the doll to bed again. She even made a big show of brushing its teeth. The doll, of course, just smiled its empty smile.

Abi woke up early on Monday. Her parents were still asleep, and she was still very tired, even though she'd slept deeply. She got out of bed, and tried to pick up her doll, but now it was bigger than Abi and far too heavy for her to carry. "Come on, doll," she told it, thoroughly exasperated. "We can't stay here all day."

So on Monday, the doll carried her. It carried her out of the house and down the street, across roads and through empty fields. Far away, it found its own house, where it carefully tucked Abi in its toy bin.

Incidentally, if you haven't read any of her books, I'd recommend checking them out. I haven't read everything she's written, but everything I've read has been really enjoyable.

The Great Weapons: Beyond These Walls 05

Miledha watched the rider descend from the dark eastern sky. Galloping, the horse had left a trail of fire behind it, like a comet; but it slowed and descended as it reached the keep, and now she could see the tiny puffs of flame where each hoof struck sparks from the empty air. She settled herself on top of the wall, with her back against the crenelations, as it touched down near the center of the courtyard.

It wasn't a natural animal of course; it was something created, or more likely conjured. Miledha knew almost nothing of those arts; she could almost hear Sister Naggia repeating her opinion of such things: Why would you want such a beast? A horse'd carry you there just as well, draw less attention to you, and be far less dangerous to manage. Miledha smiled to herself. Unless, she answered her teacher's imagined question, you needed to get from Boeringen to Langoish Keep in a single night. It was quite a sight, whatever it was and however the Order had come by it: horse-shaped, but flat black -- even to its eyes, which were only visible when it turned its head enough that she could see their shape at the edge of its silhouette. It looked like someone had carved a hole in the world where a horse should be... and by its nature it couldn't be entirely in the world, not if it could run across empty air.

The rider dismounted, pulling a set of saddlebags from his mount's back as he stepped away. The beast shimmered, folded in on itself, and was gone.

Miledha nudged the winds to carry words from the center of the courtyard to her place on the wall, and was gratified to hear the gasp of surprise from the assembled guards and council members. Then Brother Wend stepped forward and said, "Addis?"
She couldn't decipher everything in his tone, but she thought she heard surprise, pleasure, and maybe a touch of worry somewhere down underneath it all.

"Wend!" The other man sounded relieved. "I came as soon as I heard."

"You can't dream how glad I am to see you. It's been..." There was a pause, and then Brother Wend said, "This is Viscount Roberr, the lord of Langoish Keep."

There was a brief pause as Roberr stepped forward.

"Be you welcome, and at your ease," said Roberr. "The Shadir have already sent us one messenger this evening; I doubt they'll bother us again. Come into the keep with us. We have food and drink -- not fancy, but filling. If you've come representing the Order, we have a great many things to tell you."

Wend continued, "This is Brother Addis, master sorcerer of the Renowned Eastern Order of the Hidden Arts."

Brother Addis offered Roberr his hand. "I'm grateful, Viscount; that was a difficult ride. I'd appreciate a bit of refreshment before we move to matters of sorcery and war."

Miledha grumbled to herself. No doubt the entire privy council would want to meet this sorcerer Addis, and no doubt they would have plenty of questions for the adept. It would not be a short meal, and it would not be a short planning session. Even more annoying was that listening in on them would considerably harder with everyone inside the inner keep; out here, she could use the night breezes, but in there she would need a mouse or something similar. She could try to follow them unseen, of course, but with a new adept of unknown abilities that seemed a foolish risk: likely he wouldn't notice her, but if he did then it would be that much harder to get Roberr out of the keep later on. It wasn't worth it.

Instead, she rose and started for the barracks, trying to reconcile herself to the fact that they weren't leaving the keep tonight.

The Great Weapons: Beyond These Walls 04

Roberr made a complete circuit of the outer wall, greeting the guards and checking on their placements. He didn't need to -- the Shift Captain, a veteran by the name of Tannis, had them well in hand -- but he wanted to give the rest of the privy council time to settle down. Then he turned his steps to the well-house, a small stone structure that guarded the keep's primary water supply. It was another pointless errand, since he knew that both the heavy wooden door and the iron gate in front of it were shut, but it was something he could plausibly inspect... and yet another way to use some time while twilight slowly faded into full night.

Finally, he turned back to the central keep, mounted the steps, and passed through the smaller gatehouse that defended its doors. The guards were quiet inside, the evening watch settling into the slow rhythms of their shift. He continued on, and saw that the doors to the great hall were open. They shouldn't have been; everything of interest in the hall had been removed and stored away.

He stepped through, and found Miledha a scant three paces ahead of him. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were on the starry night sky that rose where the ceiling should be, overhead.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"It's considerably less interesting when it's cloudy outside." Roberr had been forced to sit through any number of social occasions in this hall, and bore the place no great love.

"It's still beautiful," said Miledha. She lowered her head and turned to face him.

He looked up, considered, and then nodded. "It is, at that. Are you ready?"

"Me?" Miledha looked surprised. "You're the one who keeps being interrupted."

"Viscount? Viscount Roberr?" The voice was soft, and still out in the gateway, but it had a certain... inescapability... to it. Roberr turned his head slowly, not quite believing what he was hearing. How hard can it possibly be to walk out a gate? He had the feeling he was still finding out.

The messenger spotted the open doors and looked inside. He was young, younger than Roberr, though old enough to fight. "M'lord? Viscount Langoish?"

Roberr nodded, resigned. "What is it?"

"There's a rider approaching."

Roberr frowned. "From the westerners?"

"No, m'lord. From the east. His horse... it gallops a trail of fire across the night air."

Roberr turned his head to look at Miledha, keeping his expression blank by an act of will.

Miledha was smiling. "Well," she said. "I always wanted to see a flying horse."

He closed his eyes for a moment, managed not to sigh, and then turned back to the messenger. "Show me."

Miledha followed him out of the great hall, and into the open air of the courtyard.

Music: Unforgiven

At one point, I went looking for songs with the title (or somehow incorporating the concept) of "Unforgiven". I think I was following a theme, but I don't really remember; I might have been looking for one particular song. If so, it was this one:


...But I also found some others, notably Michael Carlos' Unforgiven. I like it; give it a listen.

There are two types of people in the world..

...those who really believe that, and those who know that human beings come in far too much variety to be neatly divided into any two categories.

Tuesday Randomness

A conversation at work yesterday got me to thinking about The Young Ones, and in particular this clip:


("I've tried it hundreds of times. There's no way you can hammer in the last nail.")

In other news, if you're like most people, you've probably been looking for new and better ways to express yourself during those moments when the sheer absurdity and horror of the world around us robs you of the capacity for coherent speech. Should that be the case (as it so often is), allow me to recommend I Can't Even.

If you've never been introduced to H.P. Lovecraft and have no idea what a Cthulhu is, you're still in luck! Behold the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft in a wide variety of digital formats.

And that's what I've got for this morning. What about you lot? What've you got?

The Great Weapons - Beyond These Walls 03

"What happened?" demanded Steward Arkiber.

Roberr had sent the guards away, but the rest of the privy council had arrived on the top of the keep before the troopers had finished filing back down the narrow stone stairs. Miledha was nowhere to be seen, but then she wouldn't be -- not if she still hoped to take Roberr out of the keep tonight.

"It was a messenger," said Roberr. "Captain Dezarr had it sent to repeat the terms of his offer."

"It was a greater demon," pointed out Brother Wend, "one of the uppermost flight -- the dark world's equivalent of a duke or even an arch-duke. Did you feel its power? It could have torn down half the keep by itself."

"Well," said Roberr, "that was part of the message."

"That is... quite a message," said Brother Wend. "There are only a few conjurers in the Order who would deal with such as that. I don't know of any who would dare summon such a thing."

"Will they be able to protect us from it?" That was Sir Berrn, who managed to make the question sound like just another matter for consideration, rather than cause for screaming panic.

"Yes," answered Wend, "though we'll need a group of trained adepts. Battle is a very different matter from conjuration."

"It changes nothing," said Roberr. "We're safe until the truce expires. If we receive support before that, we have a chance. If not..." He shrugged. "We'll see. Now... can we get down off this roof, before anything else comes to visit us?"

The Great Weapons: Beyond These Walls 02 (revised)

Edited to improve (I think) the dialogue, and the description of the demon. I've left the original text crossed out at the bottom, if you want to compare.

It circled high over the keep, then descended in a slow, narrowing gyre. Looking up, Roberr had a brief impression of wide, dark wings and a lean form between them. He let his hand drop to his father's sword, though he couldn't bring himself to see this as a serious attack. Frightening as it might look, it was only a single beast -- and they were only reaching the end of the second day of the five that Captain Dezarr had promised them.

Miledha took a step forward as it circled in, but Roberr touched her shoulder and she stopped. It lit on the far side of the small upper tower from them, wings extended and cupped to slow its descent: man-shaped, black-skinned, broad-winged, and taloned at both hands and feet. Its wings extended from its shoulders, and showed the same lean, featherless impression as a bat's. It clutched at the top of a crenelation, sinking talons into the stone, and leered at the two of them. "Be at ease," it said. "I bring greetings from my master, and from his Captain."

Roberr found his voice. "If your masters wanted us to be easy, they wouldn't have sent something like you."

"Then be afraid," it said, "but I come under the same truce you were offered yester'morn."

"What is it you want?" asked Roberr.

"Oh, many things: blood, chaos, destruction." Aside from the wings, it was roughly the shape of a man, though its skin was entirely black and it bore fearsome talons rather than hands or feet. Its voice should have strange and terrible; instead, it was disconcertingly human, a rich baritone. "Still, it's not my wants that should concern you... At least, not yet. My master only sent me to repeat his captain's message: surrender the Gauntlet. Surrender the Gauntlet, and as they promised they will pass you by. Surrender the Gauntlet, and your lands will remain yours, in service to the High Lord of the Shadir."

He stood alone, facing the winged thing, and realized a moment later that Miledha was still there: she'd only faded out of notice, as she frequently did. He felt himself relax, though a healthy dose of fear remained in him: however powerful the demon might be, he was safe from it for as long as Captain Dezarr held to the truce. "Your master and Captain Dezarr may consider us reminded," he said drily, "but I cannot surrender what I do not hold."

The thing regarded him for a long moment: white eyes with burning red centers against hairless black skin. Then its wings spread wide, and clapped together as it fell back off the inner keep. It rose, flapping, into the gathering night.

That, finally, was when the guards arrived. For the life of him, Roberr couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or bad.

It circled high over the keep, then descended in a slow, narrowing gyre. Looking up, Roberr had a brief impression of wide, dark wings and a lean form between them. He let his hand drop to his father's sword, though he couldn't bring himself to see this as a serious attack. Frightening as it might look, it was only a single beast -- and they were only reaching the end of the second day of the five that Captain Dezarr had promised them.

Miledha took a step forward as it circled in, but Roberr touched her shoulder and she stopped. It lit on the far side of the small upper tower from them, wings extended and cupped to slow its descent: man-shaped, black-skinned, broad-winged, and taloned at both hands and feet. Its wings extended from its shoulders, and showed the same lean, featherless impression as a bat's. It clutched at the top of a crenelation, sinking talons into the stone, and leered at the two of them. "Be at ease," it said. "I bring greetings from my master, and from his Captain."

Roberr found his voice. "If your masters wanted us to be easy, they wouldn't have sent something like you."

"Then be afraid," it said, "but I come under the same truce you were offered yester'morn."

"What is it you want?" asked Roberr.

"For myself, I want only freedom -- but I've come to tell you of my master's wants. Surrender the Gauntlet, and as they promised they will pass you by. Surrender the Gauntlet, and your lands remain yours, in service to the High Lord of the Shadir."

"My answer hasn't changed." Roberr regarded the thing in front of him. Its torso was at least as large as his, heavy with muscle, and it wore neither clothes nor armor. With those wings behind its shoulders, he had no doubt it could cross the distance between them in the blink of an eye... or that it could have him up and away a heartbeat after that. Still, this wasn't simply a matter of power. Captain Dezarr had pledged his honor under flag of truce. "I don't have it. I don't know where it is. And if I did, I wouldn't surrender it to your captain; I'd be fighting him with it."

He stood alone, facing the winged thing, and realized a moment later that Miledha was still there: she'd only faded out of notice, as she frequently did. If the demon broke the truce, it would be in for a nasty surprise.

The thing regarded him for a long moment: white eyes with burning red centers against hairless black skin. Then its wings spread wide, and clapped together as it fell back off the inner keep. It rose, flapping, into the gathering night.

That, finally, was when the guards arrived. For the life of him, Roberr couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or bad.

Music: a bit of Madness from my youth

Madness - Welcome to the House of Fun:

The Great Weapons: Beyond These Walls 01

Yes, we're on to a new chapter. I think the last two pieces -- Miledha finally going to sleep, and Roberr hearing the voices -- will end up being an interlude between the first and second chapters. I won't know for sure until I see if I can keep that up as a pattern; otherwise, they'll have to be an ever-so-slightly-clumsy close to the first chapter (which I'd prefer to end on the memory of Arimil and the First War of the Princes).

Roberr didn't see Miledha again until nightfall.

He was leaning against the curved wall of one of the small corner towers atop the inner keep. He'd found his father's spare seeing-glass in the arming chamber, and taken it up to highest place he could find, under the pretense of surveying the enemy forces. Mainly, though, he'd come all the way up here in order to be alone.

Langoish Keep was designed like many other border forts: a large central keep surrounded by a ring of outer walls. The inner keep was tall enough to for its defenders to see over the outer walls -- or to fire down on them if they were breached. Here, the outer walls formed an irregular pentagon, which roughly matched the shape of the hilltop. The mass of the outer gatehouse dominated the shortest section of wall, facing more to the north than anything else, while squat, sturdy towers defended each corner.

It had been an extremely trying day, one which had left Roberr feeling useless and drained. He had started by going to ask Brother Wend about the voices he had heard in the night; but Brother Wend could offer no help, and Roberr's questions seemed to leave him feeling just as inadequate as Roberr did. Since Miledha was nowhere to be found, Roberr had followed Steward Arkiber to the well-house, where he had discovered that the man had taken over a position as de facto quartermaster, and was well ahead of Roberr in checking over the quantities and distributions of the keep's supplies. The steward had also sent the four remaining knights out to scout for any forage or supplies that the peasants might have left behind. Roberr couldn't decide how he felt about that; it was only a minor usurpation, and it was certainly better to have the knights out doing something than it would have been to leave them trapped and waiting inside the walls. Then again, it was an order (or at least a request) that should have come from him, as well as a reminder that he should have thought of it himself...

He shook his head, and returned his attention to the glass. There was nothing of sorcery to the device, just carefully shaped glass in a collapsible brass mounting, but it let him focus in on the enemy camp. Looking through it, he could pick out individual cook fires, and the figures moving around them. How was their captain feeding all of them? The men alone must consume wagonloads of food in a day, and they had mounts, draft animals, and -- if rumors were to be believed -- other things as well. There were supply lines within the camp, but as far back as he looked he could see no indication of fresh supplies coming into the camp. Did they have some way of carrying all that they needed? Were their soldiers (as another rumor had suggested) all dead men with no need to eat? Could their adepts create food out of thin air?

Roberr shook his head and lowered the glass.

Miledha was standing beside him.

He was neither surprised by her presence, nor especially bothered. For all that he had wanted to be alone, he couldn't see her appearance as an intrusion. In fact, he was relieved enough at her arrival to suspect that some part of him had been waiting for her.

"Well met," he said, half-quoting an ancient piece of poetry and wondering if she'd recognize it.

"Petruvis," she answered. "Only you're not a knight, and I'm not the sort of witch who maintains an inn simply to test the worthiness of travelers. Still, since I am here to save you, I suppose it fits." She grinned at his look of surprised acknowledgement.

"You're looking cheerful," he said.

"I've been up to things," she replied.
His father's sword hummed appreciatively at his side, and he decided not to ask her what. She took his hesitation with good grace, and asked: "Are you ready?"

That was when they heard the sound of wings overhead.

You are ready, young Padawan...

There comes a day in every Padawan's life (and his or her training, which is his or her life) when a new understanding is achieved and vital decisions are finally settled. It is the day when he or she finally decides on a style of lightsaber. Is it best to fight with a single blade? A pair of them? Or a single weapon using double blades?

This is not something to be undertaken lightly or impulsively, but rather calmly, surely, and after much deliberation. It is a decision of utmost importance, one that determines their future fighting style and even (some say) their approach to understanding The Force.

Today... that decision has been made.

Genuine, authentic Yeti pictures direct from my kitchen!

Yeah, this is why a four-year-old with legos and Star Wars: Angry Birds figurines is a serious danger to my mental health. I think they're coming to drag us all back to Hoth.

Anybody could need the help of a spell casting scammer!

So, I had just come back to the comments on another blog (to finish a response I'd started earlier) when I found that someone had come along after me and posted this. I've, um, corrected the email address to something a little more accurate.

miss fatimaMonday, July 07, 2014 8:28:00 pm

Is Dr.EBHOSE you can email him if you need his assistance in your relationship,I
promise you.your problems will be solve immediately. After being in
relationship with him for seven years, He left me, i did everything
possible to bring him back back but all was in vain. I wanted him back
because of the love I have for him, I begged him but he refused until I
explained my problem to someone online and she suggested that I should
rather mail a spell caster that could help me cast a spell to bring him
back but I am the type that never believe in spell, I had no choice than to
try it, I mailed the spell caster, he told me there was no problem that
everything will be okay before three days, that my ex will return to me
before three days, he cast the spell and surprisingly in the second day,
that was around 4:00pm. My ex called me, I was so surprised, I answered the
call and all he said was that he was so sorry for everything that happened,
that he wanted to return to me, that he love me so much. I was so happy and
surprised. Since then I have made a promise that everybody I know will
never have a relationship problem, that I will refer them to the spell
caster to help them. Anybody could need the help of the spell caster, his
email IAmAHugeFake@SPAM.com
He also cast so many spell like,

( 1) want your ex back .
(2) You always have nightmares.
(3) To be promoted in your office
(4) Want a child.
(5 ) Do you want to be rich.
(6 ) want to hold your husband / wife to be yours alone forever.
(7 ) need financial assistance.
8) Do you want to be in control of you marriage
9) Want you be attracted to people
10) Childlessness
11) NEED A HUSBAND / WIFE
13) HOW TO WIN YOUR LOTTERY
14) PROMOTION SPELL
15) PROTECTION SPELL
16) BUSINESS SPELL
17) GOOD JOB SPELL
18) Cure for any disease/ h.i.v.
Contact him today on: IAmAHugeFake@SPAM.com

I know this may surprise you, but I'm actually jealous. I mean, I thought I wrote passably good fantasy stories... but I can't even begin to compete with this.

Music: Onions

Still catching up... well... Everything, now that I think about it. So, here's Rowlf The Dog discussing one of the great injustices of life:

The Rise of the House of Mock

I've decided that we will no longer just be, y'know, the Mock family. Starting today, we shall be known as House Mock - herders of cats and terror of houseplants everywhere. We are guided by our noble motto, "Videtur esse magis sit amet vestibulum", which Google Translate assures me is how you say "Being awesome is a lot harder than it looks" in Latin. Let our friends rejoice and our enemies tremble! The House of Mock is on the march. Or on the couch. Whichever comes first, really.

The Centre Cannot Hold (Water)

Is it just me, or does this graphic look like a harbinger for some sort of prequel to Harry Harrison's Make Room, Make Room (which was the basis for the movie Soylent Green)?

I can't tell if it really is a sign that global warming and human over-population are gearing up for our impending doom as a species, or if that's just the sleep deprivation talking. Help?

Little Distracted...

Between family in town, doctor's visits for Firstborn (who appears to have gotten some bug bites and then scratched them into a staph infection), and trying like hell to get a major project finished at work, I haven't done any writing in a couple of days now. So, um... more music? Sure. More music.

This playlist is called "Cheer Me Up".

1. Mac Davis - It's Hard To Be Humble
2. Stefanie Werger - Mercedes Benz (The original works, too.)
3. 2NU - This Is Ponderous
4. The Bangles - Going Down To Liverpool
5. Aqua - Happy Boys and Girls
6. Animaniacs - I'm Cute
7. Aqua - Roses Are Red
8. BENTFRAME - Star Warz Gangsta Rap
9. The Avalanches - Frontier Psychiatrist
10. Aqua - Barbie Girl
11. The Ataris - My So Called Life
12. Boiled In Lead - Pig Dog Daddy (can't find this online...)
13. Beatallica - I Want To Choke Your Band
14. Aqua - Cartoon Heroes
15. Animaniacs - The Senses
16. BENTFRAME - Chipmunks With Attitude (This one deserves several trigger warnings, and this video weirdly makes the whole thing less funny to me.)
17. Band of Fools - How can you listen, your head up your ass (Can't find this one online either...)
18. The Corries - The Bricklayer's Song
19. Iris and Rose - Johnny Be Fine (Can't find this version, so here's Buffy Sainte-Marie instead.)
20. The Ballad of Joxer The Mighty
21. Tom Lehrer - Poisoning Pigeons In The Park

The Great Weapons: Atop The Ramparts 12

Roberr woke in the dark, muddled and confused. He was still in his bed, but his thoughts were heavy with sleep... and with the three glasses of strong wine he'd consumed in order to get to sleep. Still, knowing that he was being watched, he struggled to come fully awake.

For a moment, he thought he heard whispers.

Still in his room, I see, said one voice, harsh and terrible even at a distance.

Yes, Captain. Either they do not have it, or it rests in their pitiful keep already.

The second voice was soft, deferential, pitched higher than the first. Roberr thought they were both male, but he couldn't be sure.

He wakes. Is he...?

He has some sensitivity, but little real skill. Such sorcery as we will face lies in the walls themselves, not in the men inside. Still, perhaps it would be best...

Withdraw. I've seen enough.

Roberr lay awake in the darkness, as the voices and the sense of being watched fell away. It might have been a nightmare, but he doubted it. He was certainly wound tight enough, but there was something about this that felt... intrusive. It didn't feel like something from his dreams, and the westerners had already proven the strength of their sorceries.

He was suddenly glad that he hadn't gone after the Gauntlet. The privy council hadn't intended this, but their stubborn resistance might have worked to the keep's advantage. It might even have saved his life. He and Miledha would have to be extremely careful; the Shadir knew, or at least suspected, far more of their plans than Roberr would have liked.