Safeguards...

So. By now, I am certain anyone who reads this has heard of the United States Of America *mutters* bloody ungrateful colonials *mutters* Stop Online Piracy Act. SOPA for short. *mutters* impinging my freedoms *mutters*

Anyway. What it is, is, well. On Paper it be a... Who am I kidding. On Paper it be a bloody awful idea.  
The full text of the bill is available from the US Library of Congress website. Here, in fact. 
http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c112:H.R.3261:  


Now. I will admit, freely, to being no expert in legal documents. My Legal experience consists of ONE (1) High School course on the Canadian Legal System, way back in high school. Which was about six years ago now. At least. However. So far as I was able to determine, it gives the US Government (A fair and equitable association with ABSOLUTELY NO historically verified tendency to swing their weight around unjustly.) (Re. Anyone who believed my previous statement, I have some nice beachfront to sell you. Your choice of Mare Imbrium, or Mare Tranquillium.) ANYWAY.... It gives the US government the power to force US IP Providers, Search Engines, Server Hosts, and basically any US corporation in any way associated with facilitating the Internet, to cease doing business with any website they can prove to have breached copyright in some way. 


Now. At first glance, if you don't live in the States, you'll be fine, right? You'd think so wouldn't you. On accounts of the States are so very tranquil about the behaviour of the rest of the world. Never interfere, never stick there noses into other peoples business... (It's prime property, out of the way, quiet, no neighbours to speak of...) Ahem. No. Because. The Internet came into being in America. And most of the worlds... lets call it Internet Facilitation Equipment... All that stuff required for the Internet to be the Internet (I'm no computer geek either. I'm a biologist. A Marine one. I understand Fish. I dabble in other things...) is in, guess where? YUP! The States. So. Basically, if this bill goes through... Quote something copyright on your blog? They can blacklist your blog. You'll never get it hosted. Especially if it is on Blogspot, like this? Owned by... Google? An American Company. Post a video of you doing a cover? They can blacklist your site. These days, there are copyrights on almost everything. 


Will things hit that stage, even if the bill goes through? I doubt it will be as bad as it could be. However. The Legal basis for such a massive infringement of free speech, will be there. And speaking of freedom of speech, how is this law not blatantly unconstitutional? Well. Were the US bothered much with the Constitution (Patriot Act anyone?) WEll. Thats what Title II, Section 2 (Savings and Severability Clauses) (a) (Savings Clauses) (1) (First Amendment) is for. It reads, and I quote. "Nothing in this Act shall be construed to impose a prior restraint on free speech or the press protected under the 1st Amendment to the Constitution." Again, this time with some emphasis. "Nothing in this Act shall be construed to impose a prior restraint on free speech or the press protected under the 1st Amendment to the Constitution." Note how they don't even try to claim the bill is Constitutional. No. They simply state, right there in the Bill itself that it shall not be Construed (Seen, viewed, taken to) to impose a Prior Restraint (basically causing people to be careful what they say. Lest the government come down on them like a ton of bricks.) on free speech. 


Anyway. There is an internet petition against this bill. I ask that anyone with an interest in freedom of speech sign it. For.


"As the American People learned so painfully in the final years of the 21st Century, Free flow of information is the only safeguard against Tyrrany. Beware he who would deny you access to information, for in his heart, he dreams himself your master" 
Academician Prokhor Zakharov, University of Planet
(Taken from Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri. Used without Permission. Something that could get my blog shut down under SOPA...)


Anyway, that petition...
http://www.avaaz.org/en/save_the_internet/?fgDdocb&pv=170

On a final note... I wonder how 4chan is going to take this bill...

Of Earth And Air And Aether.

Now, I've the kenning I've no been on this for what certain folks be liable to term yonks. A term that translates into normal english as Ages. Coincidentally, I am using the word kenning to be the present verb participle of the scottish colloquial slang, ken, meaning know. Admittedly this means that translated that sentence would be read 'Now I've the knowing I've no been on this for ages', which I am well aware is atrocious grammar. I blame the fact that I am writing this at half two in the morning, having been up since about nine. Silly Jared. As the Lady Lamia will be the first to attest.

Anyway, whilst I has much knews I could relate, and you can expect a bunch of it in future (If I remember too) For now I intend to write  a brief review of what has rapidly become my favourite cartoon. Now. First let us take careful note of a few facts. I am Male. I am in my early twenties and am almost completely straight. I also have a number of less than pacifist views, and enjoy sword and axe work as a means of fun.

Right. Now that we have confirmed my masculinity. The Identity of this favourite cartoon. It be entitled (A word that I always hear pronounced Entittled, a fact for which I blame the guy who sings I Belong To Glasgow... Whats his name? Anyway, I digress.) My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.
And...
And...
And...
Okay, now that the laughter has stopped, permit me to explain why. When it was first inflicted on me, something I blame on the Lady Laure, and less directly, the Peacock, I expected to dislike it, and indeed intended to ignore it completely. However. Someone happened to create ponyified version of the Accidental Vikingr characters, Which you can probably find on Deviantart if you search for Outremer Ponies. (When awake enough, I may dig out the link... If you be lucky, and I remember.)
This caused me to watch the first episode, and after that, I was kinda, slightly hooked.

The animation is reasonable, for a children's cartoon. They generally show the backgrounds, even in action scenes (occasionally blurring these to show speed, which is tolerable... sorry, is a particular peeve of mine in animated things.) The plots, whilst oft-times sickly sweet, are well-thought out, and rather than simply being the characters doing soppy things, tend to have them working through problems, often enough, problems they have caused completely unintentionally. Which leads me to the next reason. The Characters.
There are Six main characters, and two or three supporting characters I plan on mentioning.
First, there is the duo of Twilight Sparkle and Spike. Twilight is a Unicorn. A purple unicorn, and a rather deft hoof at the Seidr (Read: Magic.) She be a bit of a bookworm, and rather on the clever side, but not always the best with people. Spike is her companion, assistant, and closest friend, a baby dragon. Who is also a fully fleshed out character, with his own wants, personality, opinions, and flaws. Some of which lead to hilarity, particularly towards the end of the first season.
Then, in no particular order, you have:
Rarity. A fashionista, and another unicorn. What equestrians are liable to call a grey, which in real terms means white, with blue eyes, and large eyelashes, both of which she is capable of using to devastating effect. She is generous, unless gemstones are involved, although occasionally highstrung. Puts me in mind of one or two old friends, in fact, and certain relatives. Again, fully-fleshed out
Rainbow Dash. An ultra-competitive tomboy who lays claim to being the fastest pegasus in Equestria. Considering there is evidence suggesting she can reach speeds of Mach 5 (Evidence that I cannot confirm the validity of, not being a physicist, but which appears accurate enough) Do not get me started on the biological effects of that, but again, a fully fleshed out character, with her own desires (To join a specific aerial stunt team), dislikes (being ignored, for instance), opinions, priorities, all that jazz.
There be Applejack, a down to earth pony, who runs the local apple-orchard. Honest, strong, tough, always happy to lend a hand, even it be to her own detriment. Everyone knows someone like that, or at least, they should. I certainly do.
Pony number five to be briefly mentioned is Pinkie Pie, who, whilst she is decidedly annoying, has a heart of gold. Always up for a party, shockingly random, and again, a well-rounded character, who, were she human, you would think nothing of meeting in the... well, who, were she human, you could imagine meeting in the street.
The last adult Pony to be mentioned is Fluttershy, who happens to be my favourite. What we RP folks like to term a ranger. or possibly a beastfriend. She is a decidedly shy and insecure pony, who is better with wild beasties than with ponies. She is also rather softspoken, and may approach being the cutest thing ever.
Honourable mentions go to the Cutie Mark Crusaders, a trio of young fillies who have formed their own club (And what small child hasn't done that), are constantly getting into mischief (See prior statement about small children), but come out of it alright in the end, every time.
And also to Gummy. A Yearling Alligator with no teeth. He never speaks, barely moves, but is awesome all the same. And also belongs to Pinkie Pie, for which I can forgive her much.

Anyway, these, amongst others live in Ponyville (Yes I know. The horse puns are a dime a dozen. Or perhaps a copper a century. (Fancy talk for a hundred for a penny) Manehattan, Canterlot, et. Cetera, et cetera.) Where, over the course of the first season, they [spoilers present. highlight to read] encounter everything from Racism and Bullying to attmepting to throw a surprise party and attending the so-called Grand Galloping Gala, THE premier party in all of Equestria. And end with suitable solutions to everything. In fact, part of the reason I approve is the beneficial morals of the stories. That and Fluttershy is cute. Especially on the rare occasions she gets mad.

So lets see, what have we gathered...
Decent animation
Well-thought out, tolerable stories, with jokes and references that appeal to more mature audiences, whilst still being suitable for younglings.
Characters that require little more suspension of belief than acceptance of magic and sentient equines. (I read the Horseclans. and Wind Riders Oath. And the Valdemar books. Sentient horses? Not an issue...)
I'm just upset that more of season two isn't available online yet (but I suppose I should give them a break. It only started a week or so ago...)

Arrival!

Well. I have finally arrived on Grand Manan Island.
Weather: Scots
House: Ancient. Characterful. EPIC.
Island: I'll tell you when I can get out to explore it.
Fellow Researchers: Seem nice enough.
Researchers Pets: All nice bar the one that presently hates me. Am told that he will settle down in a few days though...

Research Work: Ask me when the rain clears. Probably Friday.
 Expect more detail after I have slept... which may be a while...

A Bearsarks Travels

Aye, I ken 'tis been ages since I posted on this. Much on Jaredskald, but I've not really been doing much of interest of late. Got work, as well, which caused much havoc to my normal schedule. A month of six day weeks, and ten hour days, building a 'multi-use overpass', also known as a bridge.

Now, I am again travelling. Out east, to Grand Manan Island, which bears the name of the old Celtic god of the sea. I have an internship with the Whale and Seal Research Center out there, although it appears I will be studying Cetorhinus maximus, the Basking Shark. Feeding Behaviour it seems. I am sure that you will be hearing more on that, later on, as I be rather prouding of being able to claim to be an Academic again.

For now however, on my travels. Stage 1, my flight from Kamloops, or T'kumlups as the native Secwepemec peoples called it, is complete. I flew from there to 'Couverland, as we like to call Vancouver, in a twin turboprop. Nice smooth flight, my ears didn't pop once. Flight left a shade late, but not as late as I was expecting. On the other hand, my next connection, Vancouver International to Toronto Pearson is already scheduled as delayed another thirty-five minutes past the original time of departure. Ah well. Such is life.

And returning to the general Norse theme of my life, and this blog... I am bound, in the end, for Vinland. See, the Norse, and specifically Leif Eirikson, explored the eastern coast of Canada. The discovered a place they called Helluland, which translates to Stone Slab Land, a land of barren rock and ice, widely believed to be Baffin Island. Further south, they found Markland, or Timber Land/Forested Land, a land of thick forests, widely believed to be the coast of Labrador. Finally, they discovered Vinland, or Wine-land. It is reported that finds of wild grapes triggered this naming, and whilst those who study Norse History cannot decide the full extent of Vinland, or even its location, estimates range from Newfoundland to Maine. I personally tend to apply the name to all of Canada, or in more specific, the southern Maritime provinces. Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, PEI, and New Brunswick.

Anyway, my battery is making worrying dying noises on me... So I shall cut this short. Expect more history of the Norse in Canada when I return.

TO NEW WORLD!

Well, my local gaming store, Interior RC, has recently started a Warhammer 40K campaign. Map-Based, set on the imaginatively named New World.

In conflict for control of this planet are the Noble Space Wolves! The Misguided Tau Xeno's! The Immortal Legion (A splinter faction of the Imperial Guard. Probably Heretical), and The Hellsing Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes (Who we reckon are probably all right, now that we have taught them to stay out of our way)

In the first few days after planetfall, The Immortal Legion and the Hellsing Chapter went after the Tau forces, however miscommunications resulted in conflict between the Space Wolves and the Hellsing Marines, who never reached their intended foes.

In the end, the two Space Marine Forces dealt a fair deal of damage to each other. A number of Astartes were injured badly enough that they would take no further part in the campaign. The Space Wolves came out somewhat ahead, in the final scheme of things. Meanwhile, the Immortal Legion devastated the Tau forces, but because of the ease of reinforcement for the Tau, their effective casualties were rather light.

Further updates on the campaign will be available as news is made available. Watch out for the Space Wolves attempting Sneaky Tricks...

Kit-making

Wodin bless all Craftsmen. And especially those with a knowledge of Carpentry. You see, I was given oath by a friend of my father's, who is in the process of becoming a friend of mine, that I would be in reciept of a quantity of 1/2" Oak planks, sufficient to produce a disc of timber some 36" in diameter. Without cost. Offcuts from a project he'd been doing, I believe. That wood has finally been delivered. And my father has arranged, at the cost of my agreement to do a spot of digging for another friend, for said friend to lend me aid turning this timber into a shield. A Norse pattern Round Shield. The original plan had been for a Gokstad pattern shield, but those were of Alder or Fir. Or possibly Linden. And were some 37" in Diameter. I lack the timber for that.

However, precise diameter has yet to be determined. We will start with a diameter of 36". And then, if that proves unwieldy, we will cut it down further. I hope to go no smaller than 32". So far we have planed the sides of the boards level with a tool called a jointer, paired them off, and glued the pairs together. Tomorrow, the plan calls for gluing the resultant boards together, giving me a board some almost 38" by anything ranging from 18" at the sides, to almost 48" for the center boards.  We are using an outdoor wood glue which is water resistant, and creates a bond stronger than the boards themselves are.

Tomorrow night, I will detail out how we completed the next stages and what is planned as the next the project. This will continue until it is done, and I have a shield. Then I will simply require shoes and steel, and then I will have the kit of a peasant. Some form of polearm, I think, a spear or a daneax. Maybe a billhook. Or even simply a handaxe, if I can find a head. Hafting it will be easy enough, living as I do surrounded by a few hundred square kilometers of forest. And a knife. Dirk or Saex, much as I would prefer a Poniard.

Time for Reviews

Well, I promised reviews however brief, of the sort of stuff I was reading last week. Now, I know tis a shade later than I had planned, but things came up. So here it is.

To start with, my review of Bad Prince Charlie, a satirical fantasy kingdom.

Basically, there is a kingdom whose name I cannot remember. It was settled by people fleeing an oppressive regime, who discovered too late that the lovely kingdom they settled is... well, not as nice as it looked. It is on the far side of a mountain range from their oppressors. On the other hand, it is also on the far side of the mountain range from any rainfall. The king has recently died. Cue plotting. By the nobility, to sell the place out to the oppressors for gold and position. By the oppressor as a spring-board for world-domination. By the premier noblewoman of both kingdoms, to get herself married to whomever ends up ruling both. By the court wizard for a number of different reasons. And the only thing all these plots have in common? No one knows about any bar the ones they are involved in, and they all center round the newly chosen king, formerly called Bad Prince Charlie. Who has been dragged back from university, and only wants the best for his kingdom. Hilarity ensues.

Next we shall consider Rolling Thunder, by John Varley.
Science Fiction. Meet Lieutenant Podkayne, Martian Navy. I wish to point out that Mars was settled by the descendants of folks who developed a form of technology that makes brilliant weapons/drives. And refuses to distribute them. Especially after the debacle where they turned asteroids into generational ships for minorities. One such minority used its ship as a KEW. So. Earth is recovering from a rather impressive asteroid strike, and doing badly. Mars is busy colonizing the rest of the solar system. Podkayne gets ordered to return to Mars from the Martian Consulate in one of the three states that grew up out of the old U.S., as her terminally ill granny is going into stasis. Whilst there she gets transferred to the branch of the Martian navy that is responsible for Morale. Cue travel, disaster, fame, coping with fame, more disaster, coping with disaster and other fun times.
Tis very well done, and rather enjoyable. Especially where it mentions how Canada had to build a wall along the US border...

Third. Elric, by Michael Moorcock. Elric of Malniborne is the true heir to the throne of Malniborne, an albino sorceror given strength by a combination of drugs and an enchanted soul-drinking sword. Unfortunately A) Malniborneans are a dying race. B) His sword favours the souls of his friends. C) In an attempt to punish the usurper of his throne he sees to the destruction of the last great Malnibornean citadel. Whilst his sword 'accidentally' claims the soul of the woman he loves. (It does that sort of thing a lot.) Cue wide travels, adventures, swords and sorcery. Sort of like the adventures of Conan, had Conan been a weakling who gained strength by doping himself up and wielding 'Ye Great And Mighty Magic Sword Of Evil!'. And Emo, and a Sorceror of not inconsiderable strength. Oh, and assuming Conan had started with a Crown, given it up to a regent, had the regent claim the crown, returned to take it back, left again, and then repeated the same process only sacking his own capital as he left the second time round. The Omnibus I read dealt with some of Elrics travels, and with the war against the Lords of Chaos that terminated with Elrics death. I would heartily recommend this one on accounts of it being fun.

Fourth. Patricia Briggs series'. There are two of them I have been reading, both set in the same 'universe.'

The premise of said universe is simple. All those things that go bump in the night? They exist. A decade or so ago, the Fey came out to humanity. They are now required to be registered with the government (Not that that registration works, cause not even the Fey could accurately categorise themselves even if they wanted to.) Many of the Fey now (semi-voluntarily) Live on Reservations. They basically function much like modern-day Native Americans, to be fair. On the reservations, Fey law, such as it is, holds sway. Outside them, the Fey come under Human Law. More recently (over the course of the series', actually) The Werewolves have also come out to Humanity. But they haven't bothered to accept the offer of reservations. Possibly cause it be easier for them to fit in...

Anyway. Of the two series I've been reading, the first, The Alpha and the Omega series, deals with the adventures of Anna and Charles Cornick, son of Bran Cornick, called The Marrock, high honcho of the North American Werewolves. Charles, were he not part of The Marrock's Pack would be an Alpha, a pack leader. As it is, he is the Marrock's enforcer. Anna is his mate, an Omega, that is to say a Dominant Werewolf without the 'To Defend. Must Kill.' instinct most Dominant's have. It is rather interesting and well thought out. Especially seeing as, whilst both the lead characters are epic, they have some rather major weakness and scars...

The second series is the Mercy Thompson novels. Mercedes 'Mercy' Thompson is a Walker, a Native American shamany type who can turn into a Coyote, and see and speak to Ghosts. She has a friend who is a Vampire. Her old boss (and one of her better friends) Is registered as a Gremlin, and is in fact an old, germanic Faerie Smith. The Dark Smith of Drottenheim, I think. Her lodger, Samuel, is the elder brother of Charles Cornick, and a dominant Werewolf. Her boyfriend is the local Werewolf Alpha (and isn't that a barrel of laughs, cause Samuel is a lone wolf.). As a consequence, however much she would like to be left to deal with her day job as a mechanic, she keeps getting roped into dealing with Supernatural issues... fun fun...

To Vvardenfell!

Well. Tomorrow (or Thorsday) I intend to do a review of a few of the books I've been reading lately, ranging from Urban Fantasy (Patricia Briggs, Werewolves and Wampyr and Fey, Oh My![Not an actual title. It should be though]), Through Sword and Sorcery (Michael Moorcock, Elric.), through Fantasy Satire (one entitled Bad Prince Charlie), right the way to Science Fiction (Something-or-other Varley, Rolling Thunder).

For now however, I figured I'd give some advice to those who choose to visit the Island of Vvardenfell. And by that I mean those who play the Elder Scrolls games, particularly number III, Morrowind. On the grounds that when I get a games system that'll run it, I intend to get Oblivion. And Skyrim, what will make me very happy.

Now. A bit of the backstory. There is a prophecy. Something about the child born on a certain day to uncertain parents, a little bit about saving the world, et cetera et cetera. Well, as luck would have it, said child happens to end up in Imperial Prison. And the Emperor proceeds to have prisoner pardoned, sent to Vvardenfell, which is a large volcanic island to the east, and put to work for his spymaster there.
Oh. Identity of said child? You. You also pick Race, Career, and astrological sign. All of which have game-play effects. I'm not going to discuss builds, on the grounds that that be a matter of personal preference. I tend to favour Nords and hitty sorts. But then again, I am, well, me.

Anyway. Advice.
First off. Never kill anyone unless you have to. That is, unless A) they swing for you first, B) They be a criminal, or C) You be getting paid for it... (I have yet to find an assassination mission where you don't get pardoned for it)

Second off. Concerning Theft. Never take anything people can see you taking. I liked how oblivion showed you if taking something was classed as theft. Also, never try to sell stolen goods back to the person you stole them from (Very doable. especially if you wait a while before pawning the loot. also ends badly)

Third. Potions. Very important. Always carry multiple cure disease (common and blight) and restore health. At least up until you contract Sanies Lupus, Porphyritic Hemophilia, or Corpus disease, all of which confer disease resistance. (what, you mean to tell me you picked up a fantasy RPG without intending to become a Werewolf, a Vampire, or a hideous Mutant? And you are A) A gamer?, and B) Human? I don't believe you) Anyway, after that stage just the Restore health. And possibly Magicka, Fatigue and Strength.

Fourth. Cheaper to mantain your Armour yourself. Especially if you have the Bloodmoon expansion and travel about Solstheim. 'Tis rare to not find a chest with at least one repair hammer in any Barrow, Ice Cave, or Shipwreck.

Fifth. Cliff Racers and Tusked Bristlebacks. You will learn to hate these, especially at lower levels. Which makes the point where you be one-shotting them even more brilliant. Seriously, there is no sight more glorious than that of ripping out a Cliff Racers throat with a furred and taloned claw.

Sixth. Scrib, Kwama Workers and Queens, Bull Netch. Ignore. Generally not worth the effort.

Seventh, and for now final, The Money. There's none in armour or weapons, unless they be rare things like Glass, Ebony, Daedric, or certain (Normally Named) Magic Ones. Also shockingly little money in magic items. The money is in Gems, rarer Alchemical ingredients, especially Glass, Ebony, Salts (From Atronach's), and Daedra Hearts, as well as in Scrolls, and Potions.

Sorry, Eighth and final. Security and Lockpicks. Or Alteration and lots of Magicka. A must. Scrolls of Ondusi's Unhinging and Ekash's Locksplitter can only do so much.

And on that note, Fare Thee Well. I'm off to dream of my next Morrowind Session, entitled 'A Nordic Werewolf In Vivec.' 

An Update.

Yes. I know it has been ages since I actually wrote here. This may be because it has been ages since I actually did anything worth writing of. However this has recently begun to change.

First off. Iffen ye be travelling through Kamloops in the near future, you may be wishful of avoiding the roads. On the basis of I am in the process of taking driving lessons and preparing for my test. Oh, and my definition of defense see-saws betwixt "The Best Defense Is A Good Offense", and "What Mean This Word Defense. CHARGE!!!!!". That and my speed control is yet to be the greatest, granting me a distinct tendency to swing wide when cornering. But enough of that.

Second. The Ice is now off the lake. This means Life is no longer a long pain, at least for a few more months. Bonus points for whoever can tell me where the start of that sentence comes from. My Kayak has been out on the lake a lot the past few days. It is a 14.3 foot Dagger Spectre, a touring boat. Not as shiny as a Snekja or Drakkar, or indeed any form of Herskip from one of the smaller Skuldelev's to the Oseberg and Gokstadts. Or some of the ones mentioned in the Saga's. But it does me fine, possibly as I be kinda lacking in a few score Norsemen to paddle such a shinier ship.

Third. It has been warm and sunny of late. Have been making many outdoorsy trips. Went Mountain Biking up the Louis Creek Road the other day. Appears to be a wolf feeding area. At least so I would guess from the multiple rib cages and the odd set of leg bones we saw. And also the copious quantities of fur, and the regular sightings of Ravens. I most vociferously DID NOT try to snap a butterfly out of the air when it flew in front of me, and have certainly NOT been reading and writing of Werewolves far to much. Honest. Trully. Really. And if you believe either of those statements, I would like to recruit you to found the Valhalla branch of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Fourth. On the topic of dead bits of dead things. Found an Antler lying about on a friends property a wee while ago. It is in the process of becoming a set of Futhark runestones. For, sorry Jen, but the paint is coming off the ones you gave me. Oh. And carved a Gadstalfir charm the other day, too. Jeraw Fehu. Ansuz Thurisas Tyr Birkana. Jeraw Thurisas Fehu. And no. I am not willing to provide a translation. Those who know the Futhark should be able to figure it out.

Bar that, not much has been happening. Beat the Orc campaign for Soulstorm, and the Necrontyr. And the Dark Eldar. The only one left to do is the Sisters Of Battle one. The Bolter Bitches already control Kaurava I, Kaurava II and Irridene. We just need to take III, IV, Nan Yanoi and Lacunae. And we are arming up for an attempt at Yanoi...

Oh. And I have been writing much Valkyrien. but you can see all that on http://www.jaredskald.blogspot.com/ as it goes up...

A Swift, Heavy Blow, Felling One's Foe Immediately (For Preference)

Went to see an interesting film this evening. It was called Sucker Punch, and was, as has been said, rather interesting. The premise can be boiled down to two things.
1) The Key to Freedom is in ones own mind.
2) Each Person has whatever weapons they will need for whatever they need to do.

I will also point out that throughout the entire film, there are naught more than perhaps seven of the major characters I would not cheerfully carve the Blood-Eagle into. And even one of those is questionable. That is roughly half the cast...

Anyway, basically, this woman dies. She leaves everything to her two daughters. Their guardian does not like this. Bad things happen. They end with younger daughter dead, and older daughter placed in a psych ward. A rather dodgy one. Like to the point where one of the orderly's is willing to take two grand in exchange for making those arrangements to have poor little daughter, referred to as Baby Doll, Lobotomized. Including forging the Doctor's signature.

Anyway, poor little baby doll takes refuge in her own mind, creating a fantasy world. And then, in that rather dark world, she proceeds to create even more fantasy worlds. And she drags her fellow inmates into them. They are rather fantastical ones too. Very Steampunkish, and one has shades of Final Fantasy in it. There be a very well done Dragon at some point. She is given a quest to do by someone in her dream, in order to win freedom. And the film follows that quest.

The ending was not how I'd have done it, and there were a few loose ends they neglected to tie up, but it was a fairly decent film, all things considered. My biggest quibble was that the lovely disk-pommeled Zweihander (it looked like a Zweihander hilt at least) remained in its scabbard the entire time... I mean seriously. On the other hand, they countered this with a Mammen-headed hatchet. And a very nice Flintlock pistol and Stilleto combo. And I suppose in theory, loathe as I am to admit it, There was a rather nice Katana. Which was fairly well used. I'd still have rather seen the Zweihander.

Of The C'Tan and the Ancient Enemy and the Mon-Keigh

Well. I promised when I finished another Soulstorm campaign, I'd give you a description. This feat has now been accomplished. The Eldar have now claimed victory in the Kaurava conflict, and it wasn't as difficult as I'd reckoned it would be.

The end video for the campaign was also rather good, as I hadn't been certain how they would tie it up.

Anyway, tactical details. The Eldar units tend to be a shade on the weaker side than most. Their greatest advantage is in mobility. Especially seeing as no unit is good at more than one thing. And for the standard infantry, Guardian squads, that one thing is falling over. Anyway. Back to the point. All the Eldar vehicles bar two are capable of jumping over obstacles. And one of the others is an Aircraft. A rather useless (in my opinion) aircraft, but then again, the only Soulstorm aircraft I have time for is the Tau Barracuda. And possibly the Ork Fighta-Bomba, but that remains to be seen. Anyway. The other major advantage the Eldar have is the ability to build Webway gates. This leaves them independent of Strategic points and HQ for siting buildings, as the Gates can go anywhere, and project a control area around them permitting building in the area. Oh. And they can be upgraded to cloak all buildings in that area. And they can be upgraded to heal nearby infantry. And to move buildings around. And they can be garrisonned with infantry with the end result being those infantry being capable of being instantly transported to any other Webway gate on the map. There were at least three HQ's which went down by having 4 Bonesingers (construction units) teleport (oh yeah, Eldar constructors can teleport) into the enemy base, put up a Webway gate, cloak it, and then teleport half a dozen plus anti-vehicle/building turrets while the gate disgorged anti-building fire dragon squads.

When I began to go up against the races that are very good at picking out invisible things, I changed tactics. I would build a pair of Fire Prisms. And pair them up with three Falcon transports loaded with Fire Dragons. They would bull their way in, disgorge their loads, and cry havoc. Alternately, six Wraithlords with brightlances make a rather effective assault force, tearing their way through an entire chaos base, defended by multiple defilers, horrors, and obliterators. And then, I got hold of Relics. Cue the arrival of Khaela Mensha Khaine. Oh, yes, the Eldar are one of the two races that can summon a deity to the field. And not a minor one. No Khaine, the Bloody-Handed God of Death is one of the major Eldar gods. And they can summon him. Or at least an Avatar of him. Who immediately boosts squad and vehicle cap. (Cue a squad of Howling Banshees, Melee troops extraordinaire, normally two of them, and a harlequin. And also a trio of Wraithlords and a Vyper jetbike.) About the time he shows up, my three squads of Fire Dragons pair up with my Farseer, however many melee troops I've rallied, and a seer council. Oh. and more tanks than it be wise to shake a stick at. Cue a berserk rush that felled the forces of Chaos. and the Sister's of Battle (Seeing an Avatar of Khaine dueling a Living Saint was amusing.) And the Imperial Guard.

Oh. And I was far more mobile than I normally am. Normally I tend to fort up, hold where I started and slam out surgical strikes repeatedly until I claim victory. With the Eldar it was rare for me to have less than three complete bases. All of them cloaked. And I tended to hold every strategic point, with cloaked listening posts on most of them, by the end of the majority of maps. All told, it was rather fun. Going to play their... less friendly brethren next. The first few Dark Eldar missions have been buggers. Especially the Guard HQ. But more on that later...

STAND UP AND FIGHT!

Stand up and step into the light
Pushing the clouds away

Stand Up and Fight
Stand up and watch the sky grow bright
Fight for a better Day
STAND UP AND FIGHT!

And now that that is out of my system... I be certain some folks will recognise that as lyrics from the aptly named song Stand Up And Fight, title track of the new album by Turisas. Which I shall now review. Said review taking the form of two seperate parts. please ignore the first. As it is basically the response of a massive Turisas fan and Vikingr Geek to hearing the album

Ahem! AWESOME BRILLIANT GLORIOUS!

And now that I have been able to restrain myself.

For those who don't know, you poor, poor, deprived souls, Turisas is a Metal Band. Specifically a Folk Metal Band out of Finland. They tend to sing of Vikingy things, with a particular emphasis on the Norse spread out east, into Novgorod (Now western Russia) and south to the Byzantine Empire (Think Turkey, only bigger, predominantly Christian, and regardless of how Roman they pretended to be, mostly Greek.)
In fact, a major theme of their second album, The Varangian Way, was travelling to Constantinople, known at that time to the Norse as Miklagaard. Now, in Stand Up And Fight, we have arrived, to join the Varangian Guard.

The first song on the album, The March Of The Varangian Guard is basically a description of the guard, and of how one got their from Norse lands. It is very well done, and one of my favourite tracks on the Album. After the title itself, it probably is the strongest track on it.

It is followed by Take The Day, which whilst a good song, has little I found excessively distinctive. On the other hand, song 3, Hunting Pirates is brilliant fun. Even those three songs show wildly differing styles, one of Turisas's major strong points.

Track four I would tentativelly describe as an attempt to repeat the successful pattern of In The Courts Of Jarisleif. Sadly it is only, in my mind, partially successful. The music does bring to mind the events it is meant to, or at least, their modern equivalents, but the words are spoken, rather than sung, and I personally much favour Jarisleif. Taken on its own merits, it certainly stands high enough, but I can't help but compare it to Jarisleif, in whose shadow it pales greatly.

Title Track is number 5. It's also an Epic song. And it gives a lesson that everyone should take to heart. No sense in just giving in to fate, we must struggle to make things better.

Track 6, to a student of Norse, or even Norman/English/Anglo-Saxon history is rather amusing. It be about the last great Viking raider. Or at least, the person most historians attribute that title to, slain in his prime at the battle of Stamford Bridge... But I can get into his history later, the poor unlucky sod...

Track 7, entitled Fear The Fear is in my mind the weakest track on the album, but this may just be the departure from traditional Turisas subject matter. It does however mention another valuable lesson, about how fear should never prevent on from doing what one believes needs done.

As for eight, it describes the end of the Byzantine empire, and is very well done. As for track nine, It is a quote from one Hakon Halfdanson, around 1043. I believe he was Norse royalty, possibly Norwegian, exiled by the sons of the Bloodaxe during their brief period on the Norwegian Throne. On the other hand I'm probably wrong.

In conclusion, I must describe the album as Epic. And quite possibly their strongest to date. Tune in Monday to see my ideal Turisas Setlist...

Dawn Of War

Well... I don't really have anything to blog about, on accounts of never really doing anything... So I have decided to do a write-up on Dawn Of War 1. The Wrhammer 40,000 RTS for PC. Specifically, its Third Add-On, and in more specifics, the Single-Player Campaign, and those three races I have completed it with, and the Fourth I am working on at the moment.

Now, the campaign is set in the Kaurava system, which contains 4 Habitable worlds, labelled Kaurava 1 through 4, and three habited moons, Irridene and Nan Yanoi, orbiting 2, and Lacunae orbiting 4. Anyway, the campaign starts shortly after the arrival in-system of a Warp Storm, which Delivers and or Traps nine feuding Armies in the system, all of whom have their own Nefarious reasons for wanting control of it. (It's what I love about the 40K universe. Not one of the Factions is out and out good. In fact there are good reasons to avoid all of them)

Anyway, seeing as how they didn't bring the 'Nids in till Dawn of War 2 I started out playing the Space Marines. Doing it on Normal difficulty. And rapidly discovered that few things can chew through two squads of Heavy Bolter armed marines backed up by one with Missile Launchers. Which will hold your base whilst you land drops pods or teleport in your Commander. And your Librarian. And your Chaplain. and A Dreadnought. And two squads (Minimum) of Terminatours. and a squad of Grey Knights. right into the enemy base. or you can build a few sets of Marine detachments and leapfrog them up. Or a Land Raider paired with two Predator Annihilators can smash right through most fixed defenses. True, the Dark Eldar HQ posed a problem, and the Battle Sisters HQ, but slight adaptation of tactics got me round that.

I played the Tau next. I favoured advances of my Commander supported only by my Hammerheads and Sky Rays (Missile Barrage is broken. Especially when dealing with infiltrators) I'd use Barracuda's for surgical strikes on specific targets, and got the Orc HQ that way. The Tau don't get any fixed defenses, but the XV-88 Broadside is a deployable infantry unit that does one hell of a Job. Twin-Linked heavy railguns. Fell most things with ease. A fact which makes fighting the Tau a bugger (I favour Terminatours or Dreadnoughts with Assault Cannons, or fast melee troops. Or the Bloodthirster.) Also, Kroot Carnivore squads equipped with a shaper will chew through most infantry. Throwing Kroot Hounds at Gretchen is amusing, although I've never really found much use for the Krootox.

Now, as can be seen, I like swift, hard-hitting strikes, or deep-strike deployments. Something that posed me problems playing as the Imperial Guard. I wound up having to play them like their fluff demands. Human Wave attacks backed up by Basilisks. At times I tried wave attacks of Hellhounds or Sentinels, or even both. The Guard campaign was, for me at least, a long boring slog. Never do it again. But that's probably just me. I never did like the Imperial Guard.

And that bring us neatly to the fourth and final race I be going over here. Chaos Undivided. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, having tried them a few times before, and never enjoyed it, but I like the play style I've developed for them. I tend to use Mostly Chaos Marines. With Bolters. I'll pair my Commander with a squad of Possessed (At least I would. He's a full-blooded Daemon Prince now, so the Sorceror goes with the Possessed.) Stick four defilers at his heels. And a Sorceror. 5 Squads of Bolter armed marines will guard my base, backed up by a pair of predators. Normally Annihilators. As soon as my Commander, his Possessed, and the Defilers hit the enemy base, they tend to get a squad of Obliterators and a few of Horrors dropped on them. And as soon as I have a relic the Bloodthirster joins them. The Chaos forces start sharing Kaurave IV with the Dark Eldar. I've ignored the Dark Eldar, fortified my HQ to The Warp and Gone. I started by moving in on Kaurava II and wiped out the Space Marines. The battle was mostly a straight up rush by Hell Talon fighters to get close enough to bombard their HQ while I dropped Obliterators and Horrors on it. Took two attempts to get it right, but get it right I did. The Orcs fell next, as I gradually secured most of the planet. That battle we systematically slaughtered them. There was not a single, living Ork or Gretchen in the Rokclaw mountains when I destroyed their Settlement and won the mission. After that it was a simple matter of regrouping, reinforcing and launching an attack on the Tau HQ of Nan Yanoi, where I did basically the same. I then moved onto Kaurava I. I started by seizing every territory bar the Battle Sisters and Imperial Guard HQ's. I then moved in on the Sisters. Systematically destroyed everything bar their final base, which by a fluke of chance I left mostly intact. (Their forces had effectively wiped out my assault force whilst the Living Saint, Anais, went toe-to-toe with a Bloodthirster of Khorne. When the Living Saint decided to flee, the Bloodthirster decided to destroy their HQ)

Am even now (Or at least I will be when I load the game again) reducing the Guard HQ, which has basically been reduced to a few scattered, ineffective bases, and their main HQ. But I have a Daemon Prince, and free access to a relic, and thus they will soon be in reciept of a major incursion (A Bloodthirster, a Daemon Prince, a squad of Obliterators, and whatever supports I feel like rustling up. Probably Horrors and Hell Talons, its what I've been going with so far...)

Anyway, When I complete a campaign, I may give a rundown of tactics used, and how it went...
Assuming people are interested... 

Of Wolf and Tau

Out from the new days mist we run
Out from the new days mist we have come...

And on that note, was at Wargaming again today. The Space Wolf forces under the command of Veteran Wolf Guard Battle Leader ( Using Wolf Lord Rules) Lorlen found themselves fighting against the forces of the Tau.

Not certain which sept, but their colouration was pale blues and greys. (Or at least it was on those painted.)

The Tau forces reacted swifter than the Wolves expected, deploying troops in response to our incursion, and even launching a counterattack before we were in position. As the first Space Wolves took the field, they found a pair of squads of Fire Warriors, each a dozen strong, and a Crisis Suited commander with a pair of gun drones. But even as Lorlen and the two squads of five Grey Hunters took their positions, a Hammerhead, a Piranha, another Crisis Suit, an XV88 Broadside, and a flight of Gun Drones moved up from reserve. They fired on the Marines, Railgun submunitions felling a Hunter. In response, a Land Raider Redeemer and a squad of Long Fangs advanced to support the Grey Hunters. On the Wolves left flank, the remaining Hunters took a sand-bagged position, and on the right, they moved out from cover to fire upon the Fire Warriors. The long fangs formed a well spaced line on a rise, and the Korgon rolled forward, Assault Cannons cutting down a trio of Fire Warriors. They proceeded to withdraw, occasionally regrouping but never for long. Now the battle was joined in earnest, the Tau firing away at their foes, but to little avail. The Korgon rumbled forward, shrugging off fire, and the Long Fangs disabled the Hammerheads main gun. the XV88 glanced a round off the front of the Korgon but fell to its fire. Meanwhile Lorlen rushed the Tau Commander, and in the end, slew him, as the Korgon rammed the Piranha to no avail. As a Stealth Suit team infiltrated towards the Long Fangs position, they were gunned down by the few remaining grey hunters who held the sandbagged trench, with the last being finished off by the long fangs themselves, taking two Lascannons at point blank range. Even as they did so, the Korgon pivoted, drenching the Piranha in flame as Lorlen immobilized it with his Plasma Pistol... The Fire Warriors the Korgon had intended to fire upon had moved out of its line of sight, so it instead gunned down the crisis suit. Then, as the last of the Grey Hunters holding the Sandbags blew himself up with his plasma cannon, the Long Fangs obliterated the remaining fire warriors, whilst the Korgon gunned down the drones.

All told, the battle was a Victory for the Space Wolves, with the loss of Seven Grey Hunters and 2 Fenrisian Wolves for some 24 Fire Warriors, 8 Gun Drones, 2 XV8 Crisis Suits, 3 XV25 Stealthsuits, an XV88 Broadside, an immobilized Piranha and a Hammerhead shy its main gun...

FOR RUSS AND THE EMPEROR!

Pogue Ma Thoin

Well, last night saw me again at the pub in town that derives its name from the above. The Pogue Mahones Irish Alehouse, Kamloops B.C. They had an indie rock gig. Now, I don't tend to listen to much Indie Rock, but seeing as I can't make it to Rock Night back at uni (Bloody Oceans and Continents getting in the way...) I figured I'd give it a go.

The first band to take the stage was the Saucy Wenches. Now, to paraphrase a certain historian who will remain nameless (Mostly because I don't know his/her/its name) In what way were they Saucy, or indeed, Wenches. Seeing as they were all male. Such a shame. I'd been expecting hot lasses in Corsets and short skirts. Ah well. They weren't bad, and finished on a Lynyrd Skynyrd cover (don't ask me which. I'm bad at remembering such things when I'm sober. I wasn't)

The next band was a group called Angel Down. I approved of them. And still do. I approve mightily. Wouldn't call them rock, I personally thought them closer to metal, myself. They made an announcement, not long after beginning their set. Any Man, or Woman, who stood to the fore, and rocked out hard, wouldst, after, be given a free copy of their EP, entitled Little Red Devil. The title track is rather good. See. I was right at the front. And mindly inebriated. And already headbanging away happily. In my kilt. Wearing Tyr, and Pagan pendants. The chappy at the merchandise desk saw me coming a mile off. He was already handing me the disc when I was starting to ask if they had been serious. It's rather good. Must go hear them again at some point. They even gave us an Encore when we demanded it.

The third and final band was one called Throttlecaster, and again I'd tilt them more towards the metal side of things. But again, they were good. Sadly, they did not give me a free cd, but they made up for it by closing with Metallica, For Whom The Bell Tolls. I'd heartily recommend them, as well as Angel Down. And bid them luck. And Gangleri's Guidance, and the Ward of Farmognudr. And carve Raidho Fehu for them. All of which strike me as suitable for touring rock bands, even unsigned ones. Perhaps especially unsigned ones.

Of course, epic as the music was, the gig was then followed by an Hour and a Half worth of tipsy trekking through a rather heavy flurry to get back to where I was sleeping. And a hangover I'm certain was gifted by the Half-Dead Daughter of the Trickster. Which I shouldn't have had, I be certain. Not on as little as I was drinking... and most of it was Love In A Small Boat Beer, to boot.  Anyway, that be the tale of my Saturn'sDay night. 'Twas fun. I regret none of it. Well... Almost none of it...

Don't Ask

Well. I could do a long ranting explanation as to why, at this very moment, all I really want is steel in one hand, and my (Mostly still full) Bottle of Jaeger (It wouldn't remain that way) in the other...

However, instead I shall simply launch straight into a description of some of the things I've been up to of late.

Part 1. Writing. Look to http://www.jaredskald.blogspot.com/ to see the end results of this (You may wish to wait a week or two till I get my rapidly increasing backlog posted) I shall little more here, except that the blood and guts and gore are getting gradually more prevalent... And I have come startlingly close to creating new characters and settings simply because Rauda and the Bear and Javier and Kat and the Pup are not liable to do the sort of things I intend to write (They favour having a reason for violence for one thing)

Part 2. Reading.
Lord Darcy, a mystery novel (I know, not normally my style) Or rather, Anthology, based around an alternate universe where Richard Lionheart did not die of camp fever contracted after a crossbow quarrel took him in the chest. Instead, he survived, John died in exile, and the Plantagenets still rule England. and France. and indeed, at the time the anthology is set, the British Empire. They speak Anglo-french, have many Norman influences, et. cetera. Oh, and Magic is real. And runs off set rules that make it basically a form of science (Insert pithy reference to The Golden Bough here...). Meanwhile, what we consider science is referred to as Materialism, and is as scorned as magic is in our universe. Anyway, the tales center round the Royal Investigator for the Duke of Normandy, one Lord Darcy, and his companion, his Watson if you will, Sean O'Lochlainn, Irish Master Sorceror.

War Games, another Anthology published by Baen and edited by Eric Flint. This is almost enough to garauntee a good read. Howsabout the story where the Russian Premier (And his cabinet) Whilst attending the UN pay a visit to a local Electronics convention and get roped into trying a shiny new RTS... which they end up missing conferences for, and in the end, use to prevent a war...Or the tales in which the broken remnants of the Wesdem O'Cracy's, reduced to technologies of the Industrial Revolution whip the Russ and their WW I Era tech... And those are just my two favourites... Very good read. When I remember it, I'll post the author in a comment.

Lets see, what else. There was a book on the forces used in various crusades. Speaking of which, I discovered the Balian of Ibelin actually existed. He followed Guy de Lusignan to the Horns of Hattin, and whilst the rest of the Crusader army got slaughtered, he led his men in a furious charge, seeking glorious death in battle. And managed to break through the Saracen lines... cue a vigorous HELL WITH THIS! and a hasty withdrawal. Most of his men got away with him. So did those of Reynard de Sidon, who completely independently pulled the same trick. This made me happy. Briefly. Am actually tempted to make the Lord De Bruis a vassal of Balian if the timing is right...

Hmm.... thats all the memorable stuff I've looked at lately, barring the short stories my mates keep sending me... (Keep 'em coming, they damn near make things bearable. but thats another tale that shall not be told here...)

3. The Nintendo Wii... My mom has one of these, and I have been playing ridiculous amounts of Sports Resort lately. Got bored of the Sword-fighting when the Wii-motes started refusing to stay calibrated, and thus I fought as though I were worse than drunk. Likewise, not been doing much archery of late. On the other hand, they have a bit where you can fly a plane. All over the pseudo-Hawaian island of Wuhu. 'Tis brilliant fun, especially such things as flying through the cables on the red suspension bridge, going through the road tunnels and lava tubes upside down, and of course, strafing the helpless Mii's. all of them carry balloons, and if you shoot the balloons (and fly close enough) they jump up and down and shake fists at you (almost as much fun as if they would run away in terror when you approached (My MOM's comment, not mine) Or at least, originally my Mom's comment). Although I did manage to botch a Kamikaze. hit the boat I was aiming at, but hit it at such a low velocity, and such a low altitude that I basically landed, and skidded along its side, leaving it unscathed. Rather than blowing myself up, sending me and my passenger shooting into the air with our parachutes, and leaving it unscathed... Yeah, the physics isn't great, but hey, where else can you make a vertical take-off in a bi-plane...

Anyway, thats enough for now...

A general Update

This post is not going to be long. I have recieved a few statements of fondness for my short stories. As such I have decided to start a seperate blog specifically for those. It can be found here: http://www.jaredskald.blogspot.com/

The first story will be going up tonight. As I have rather a backlog, expect a story every couple of days at least, for the next two or three weeks. possibly longer if I keep writing at my present exceedingly rapid rate.

Secondly, there may have been noticed a trend towards weekly battle reports on a friday night or saturday... these are liable to be the norm. If I can figure out how to get photos from my camera to my laptop, both of which seem to have a mutual hate agreement, there will even be photos.

Finally, expect other random posts anytime anything interesting happens to me... so roughly, never then.
Oh. And if I ever read anything interesting, or watch anything interesting, or listen to anything interesting, I'll review it. Expect two reviews of Turisas new album, Stand Up And Fight, around a fortnight or so from now. The first is liable to boil down to EPIC! but I shall attempt to do a proper critique for the second.

That will be all
COMPANY! DIS-MISSED!
FALL OUT!

Of Taboo, the Ages of Magic, Religion, and Science, and Of the Comparison of the three.

Well. I recently got a book out of the local library. It was entitled The Golden Bough, by one James George Frazer. Sir James George Frazer to be precise. He was a Scot who was educated at a variety of schools, got his diploma from Glasgow University, and then studied and took up residence at Trinity College in Cambridge, on the grounds that Scottish universities were not deemed prestigious enough to start an academic career from.

Anyway, he became, through one thing or another, interested in Anthropology, and wrote two major treatises on the topic. One, concerned with taboo and the rules by which society governs itself became known as the Golden Bough.

I'm only halfway through it so far, but I figured I'd go over my impressions so far. may do a more indepth review later on.

Anyway, it begins by explaining the source of the title. Which is taken from an old greek temple at Aricia. Legend (Supported by contempary sources) mantains that at this site, there was a sacred tree. And the High Priest of Dianna at Aricia was responsible for guarding this tree. And any escaped slave, coming upon this tree could take a bough from it. And this bough gave him the right to face the priest in single combat. And should he fail, well, he was dead. but should he slay the slayer, he became high priest, until he too was slain in turn.

From that beginning he goes on to claim that any society must undergo three ages. The age of Magic, in which Man believes he can control the natural by cantrips and superstition, and well, magic. This is then followed by the age of Religion, where Man, seeing that his attempts to control the natural through supernatural means fail, attributes control to greater supernatural beings, be they gods, spirits, daemons, devil, shades or such like. And these can be propitiated, and manipulated by certain actions, normally the domain of priests and such like. And then, as man begins to realize that those beings to which he attributes such control fail him as often as they do as he bids, they begin to looker deeper and begin to attribute control of the natural to natural processes. hence the age of Science. Much evidence is provided, and assuming his sources are cited accurately (And with him being a classically tutored victorian scientist this is probably the case) It is entirely possible that he is correct.

He then proceeds to describe the roles given to certain positions of authority in each age, and what happens to them as the ages shift. Such as Magicians from the age of science either forming a priesthood or being persecuted as things shift into religion. He also claims that Magic is simply Failed Science, and that as soon as magical procedures begin to work regularly they fall under the heading of science. It is on this basis, citing such examples as Alchemy gradually shifting into Chemistry, that he claims that as the Age of Religion gives way to the Age of Science, that he claims that many of the once persecuted magicians turn to scientists (or perhaps that this shift from magicians to scientists triggers the shift in the ages)

Several chapters are giving to the role of the king in early society, where the king often had a direct religious significance and was hemmed in by many rules dictating his life. An example of this still surviving at the time of his writing are the Japanese Emperors, and many examples are available in earlier societies.

So far it has been decidedly interesting, and I am now getting into the parts that detail beliefs in the mortality of the divine and the divinity of mortals, Examples of the former being Christ, Wodin, Osiris and such like, and examples of the latter being the Japanese Emperors, the Egyptian Pharoahs, and one or two obscure christian sects stamped out by the papal inquisition in the medieval ages...

All told, it be an interesting and well-though out work, and I would advocate its reading to any who are not religious fundamentalists... In fact, so far, the only issue I have with it is the assumption (common in Victorian Britain) that European Society was the most advanced, and the majority of the rest of the worlds cultures were best described as Savages. But barring that, I approve so far.

Finally, A New Appearance Of An Old Foe.

Well, I had another 40K battle Yesterday, and intend to do a proper battle report for it. There will even be photos as soon as the Iron Priests figure out how to transfer them off the Vid-capture to the Cogitator Device.  Anyway, for once, the Space Wolves were not fighting their old traditional rivals the Dark Angels. No, this time, my forces faced an old foe, one they had not fought in some time. Arrayed against the Adeptus Astartes were the grim, deathless, implacable Necrons, led by their hideous deity, the Nightbringer. The Space Wolves had learned that there was an artifact amongst the Necron lines, that could hold secrets to aid in bringing them down. Meanwhile, the Necrons sought to sieze and disable the Space Wolves landing beacon.

The lines were formed up. The space wolves had on their left flank, A squad of Long Fangs perched on a low rise, lead by one of the Wolf Guard. They were defended by a pack of Grey Hunters some five strong, sporting a Plasma Gun, one of the Wulffen, and even a warrior bearing a Power Fist and Plasma Pistol, and a Land Speeder Typhoon, with its Assault Cannon primed and ready. On the right flank, they had a Land Raider Crusader, loaded up with Terminators, flanked on the left by Grey Hunters, a similar pack to that defending the Long Fangs. On the right flank of the Land Raider stood the Wolf Lord, Wulf, Riding the Thunderwolf Sarath and surrounded by a pack of Sarath's lesser brethren.

Arrayed against them were a squad of Immortals on the Necrons left flank, stood on a low rise. Just to their right was a squad of Scarabs and behind them a Trio of Wraiths. Just left of the Necron center was the Monolith behind which hovered the Nightbringer, their hideous, hungry deity in manifest form. The center, and just right of the center was anchored by a pair of Warrior squads, and on the far right, screened by a low mountain peak, a quintet of destroyers floated, waiting for the signal to advance.

Reacting with the speed that characterized their kind, the Space Wolves began their advance. The Land Speeder jetted towards the base of the mountain, Assault Cannon and Heavy Bolter blazing away at the Destroyers, not as well covered as they had thought. The Long Fangs loosed a pair of Lascannon shots at the monolith, to no avail, whilst the pair of Plasma Cannons felled several warriors, some of whom would never again rise. The Land Raider and its escorts advanced, blazing away at the scarabs, and felling most of them, as well as a Wraith that stood again shortly after.

In response, the Necron Immortals fired on the Wolf Lord, felling all the wolves accompanying him bar the one Cyberwolf. The Monolith and the Scarabs and the Wraiths all advanced towards him, the Nightbringer remaining hidden behind the great floating tower. As the monolith slowed, a squad of warriors came through the portal at its front, firing at the Grey hunters, who shrugged off their blows. Meanwhile, the other warriors advanced firing at the Land Speeder, crippling its engines as it began to descend from the plateau it and the Long Fangs had been on. The destroyers sped out of cover and felled all but one of the Long Fangs, leaving behind a solitary Lascannon trooper. The Scarabs managed to reach the Wolf Lord, Who struck them down with ease, his power fist making short work of them. He took advantage of the chaos caused by his victory to dart between the wraiths and warriors.

'Twas time again, for the Wolves to once again take the initiative. The lone Long Fang fired again for the Monolith, but to no avail. Meanwhile, the grey hunters behind him moved towards the destroyers, pistols blazing. The other grey hunters fired on the warriors who had just come out of the monolith, pouring bolter fire and plasma blasts into them, but to little avail, whilst the Land Raider directed its fire at the Wraiths, felling one of them.  The Wolf Lord charged the Monolith, and crashing blows from his mighty fist caused it to explode. The explosion engulfed him, but left him no more harmed than he had been before. Finally the grey hunters who had began to rush at the Destroyers reached them, and felled the first of them in close combat.

The Necron Immortals fired upon the Wolf Lord, slaying his Cyberwolf, and injuring him greatly, whilst the Wraiths charged the Grey Hunters, who felled them without losing a man. The Warriors trotted to the side and fired upon the Land Raider, Laming the mighty iron beast. The other warriors advanced further, gunning down the last Long Fang, whilst the Destroyers fell to the Grey Hunters they were engaged with. Sadly, they did not die alone, two of the sons of Russ falling with them. Finally the Nightbringer advanced over the Wolf Lord, Mortally wounding him and his mount, and beginning to catch up to his own lines.

The Land Raider disgorged its Terminators, who immediately fired upon the Nightbringer, who ignored their feeble attempts. At this insult they rushed him, although not one of them lived to tell the tale. Meanwhile, the Land Raider fired on the Immortals. One of them failed the test of their name, and failed to rise again. The grey hunters aside the Land Raider charged at the Warriors who had crippled their only tank, and slaughtered them, breaking their will and running down those who fled. The other grey hunters, the three survivors, took shelter behind the crippled land speeder, as the Necrons again began their inexorable advance.

The last of the warriors moved as rapidly as they could towards the rise the Beacon was sat on, whilst the Immortals felled those Grey Hunters who had just slaughtered the warriors. Only one survived, dropping back behind the Land Raider, just as the Nightbringer wrecked it with swings of his scythe.

At the last minute, the few survivors on the left flank of the Space Wolves rushed the Warriors advancing on their beacon, stopping them before they could harm it. The last Grey Hunter on the right flank loosed his plasma gun at the Nightbringer, who promptly felled him for it. And whilst there were barely any Space Wolves left on the field as the battle finished, they had at least forced their opponents into a tactical draw... (Which is better than they've ever pulled off against the 'Crons before)

And now, I have been informed that the Iron Priests have sorted our technological difficulties and thus am retroactively putting the pictures where they go in the tale... And yes, I know the Land Speeder be in Ravenwing Colours... That be because it was on loan from the Dark Angels...

The Blood Of Fenrir...

Well, here be the Blood Of Fenrir, part 1. And after this I may go back to normal posts as opposed to short stories.

The wind shifts. I sniff the air, my legs never breaking their stride. There, at last, I have the scent. For weeks I have been trailing my quarry. One of their own gave me their first step. Those at their next step gave me their third. From there I followed tracks, a day old and more, on the ground, but now, now I have the scent.
They must be close. I pick up my pace, lengthening my stride, my passage making no sound, leaving no sign. They thought that coming here, so remote, so wild, would keep them safe. And maybe it would, were it their kind that followed them here. But it is not. The blood of Fenrir flows through my veins, as I learned so long ago. I am far older than I look, lean, fit, long white hair flowing in the wind that whips at my face. Let it. I have felt worse. Whips themselves, for one thing.
The memory brings a feral grin to my face, and I laugh, a loud, wild sound, startling the songbirds from the trees. Now my quarry knows I am coming. Let them. For too many years I have held the knot on the ribbon that binds my jaws. Now I shall let it loose, at last. The sun glints through the trees, warming my face, as it has for so many years. And it has been many.
I remember it well, the day we learned that I was a chosen one, that I had been born of the Trickster's Spawn. The sun warmed me that day as well, though it glinted through hazel, not pine, and in the early morn, not the heat of the day as it does now. Pausing in my memory, I sniff the air again. The scent is closer now, stronger, but not quite where I can pick out single scents. That will come. My feet hit the ground in sequence, and the gentle thuds lull me back into that place of the past.
The scents were keen. Oil, Leather, Steel, the scent of too many men, too tightly packed. My shield was heavy in my hand, so very heavy, as the Jarl went forward to speak to theirs. We watched closely as our Jarl approached theirs, sword in his scabbard, shield at his side, willing to talk, to attempt a peaceful resolution. Thus it was that I saw the knife come out and slide into my lords ribs. As he fell, the foe charged at us across the field. To our credit, outnumbered, worse equipped, and unled, we stood our ground, held, but in the end it was almost for naught.
Our shield-wall shattered when their charge hit, and we were forced to fight as individuals. A mighty blow ripped my shield from my arm, a spear stuck in my sword-arm, and then... A noise ahead breaks my reverie, draws me forth from the land of memory. 'Tis a dangerous land to tread, the paths of the mind.
But the noise. A sharp crack. Sobbing. I sniff the air again. They are close, so close I can almost taste them on the air. Almost, but not quite. I have Fenir's blood, not Jormung's. There are three of them, Man, Woman, Girl. The elder two smell of steel, and oil, powder and lead. They are armed then. Makes things more interesting I find, the risk of death. Some risk. I crouch lower, moving in close, slowly, moving with the rythym of the forest. Step, step, stop, scan, slow, but normal for the woods, it works. I approach to where I can see my quarry undetected.
The girl is sobbing. Her clothes are grubby, her hands and knees grazed. Neither of the others seem to care. The man looks at a map and a compass, whilst the woman watches the woods. Poorly. The man points, and drags the girl to her feet. When she resists, he slaps her, hard. She spins, and before she hits the ground, I am moving.
My white hair spreads down my back, and around my chest. Joints pop as my body changes. It stings, but then, it always has. My jaw juts out, my muzzle forming as fangs sprout from my gums. I howl as I leap from my hiding place, and answering howls echo back from the hills. The man and woman spin my way, pistols being drawn from their holsters. The barrels spark, and now my thick, white fur is patched with red. It stings more now, my chest is on fire, but my blood is up. Fenrir's blood is up.
Before they can fire more than a few times, I am on them. My claws tear at the woman's throat, ending her screams. I ignore her last struggles, and concentrate on the man. He has time for a few more shots, and the fiery pain runs up my arm. It matters not, as I did not intend to use my claws. Fangs are much sharper. I cock my head, and strike for his neck, but he ducks back and falls over. I catch myself before I step on him, and try again. This time I succeed, lifting him up with my good arm. The warm red blood flows down my throat, and I drink until there is nothing left, before I throw him away. The little girl is cowering on the ground by this point. I crouch down and smile at her. It is not until the screams begin that I realize the flaw in my cunning plan
Ah well, maybe she will calm down when we near civilization. So over my shoulder she goes. I set off at a run, back the way I had come, holding her in place with my bullet studded arm, while my other one pried bullets out of my arm and torso. Lead stings. Trust me on this one. Steel can sting more though, thats what set me off the first time. And now I slip back into memory. The spearhead stuck in my arm, and I screamed in pain. My shoulder slammed out of its socket, and then popped back in.
And with that, all my other joints began to pop into different places. My tunic tore, my hair spread, claws and fangs sprouted, and my scream of pain transformed into a mighty roar. I don't remember much of what followed, until I was standing surrounded by a field of corpses. From then on I was prized amongst the warriors of the Norse, until in the end we failed and fell.
I can smell the city now. I hate that stench. Too much of man, not enough of the wilds. I leave the girl on the edge, and then dart off into the woods. Perhaps one day things will change and my kind will be accepted again. Till that day I shall dwell in the wilder lands of the world and hunt only those who need hunting.

A bit of a departure...

I've been reading tales for a long time now, and you know what bothers me? The relative scarcity of tales written from the Monsters point of view. I mean we have tales of Vampire Hunters, and Witch Hunts. We have tales of the slaughter wreaked on villagers by Lycanthropes, and Undead, and all manner of beasties, but very few written from the point of view of such things themselves...

So I have attempted to Remedy this... When I can find it, I'll post up the first part of Blood of Fenrir. And when I finally get round to figuring out where else to go with it, I'll write and post additional parts. For now however, you'll have to put up with this. And SKAAL! To any Man, Woman or Child, who can guess who be monologuing before the end. And by who, I mean Whom. And By WHOM I really mean What.

We sit, on a razored knife ridge of granite, jutting up from the blue ocean. Taloned feet dig gouges into the rock, as we stare into the wind. The lesser breeds have a name for this place, but they have a name for everything. We of the eldest folk have no care for such things. It is enough for us that a thing is, without needing to tack words that cannot describe it in truth onto it. Beneath us, so far below, the sea is rough, what the lesser breeds call white horses running along its surface. A fair enough title, even if it fails to match the true majesty of the sight. From the corners of my eyes I see my kindred, all of them glancing from side to side, ensuring their clutchmates are beside them.
I need not do this. My clutchmates all fell long ago. I am alone, the eldest of us all. To any who watch I crouch motionless, seeing the black smudge spread across the horizon, and the horses below leap higher and higher. The scent of the open sea is in the air, clean and pure. Soon, the storm will be upon us. The youngest of us quiver with excitement, serpentine necks flicking this way and that, tails lashing against the rock. For some, this is their first time knowing the joy that is our gift. The older, those who know what is to come restrain themselves better, saving their energy for when it will be needed, but even they still fidget. Only I am still as the rock we grasp, save the rise and fall that comes with my breath.
The smudge is nearer now, the horses frantic, throwing themselves against the base of the rocky craig. The spray of their struggles almost reached the lowest perches of my brethren. To one who has been alive as long as I, the sky holds few secrets. And so, acting on signs only I could see, I inhaled, my sides belling out. As my lungs filled, the wind dropped, stopped. A moment of calm ensued, to which my kin reacted differently. The youngest glanced about confused. They had not been expecting this. Those slightly older tensed their muscles, ready to leap. The rest of them braced against what they knew to be coming. Only I continued to remain motionless, watching the air. I knew when the first breath would come, I could see it coming, and so I met it. As the gust front hit, I roared my greeting, and even if their was naught that a lesser being would consider a word in that greeting, well, the wind understood.
The gust passed, and died, and then, the wind picked up again, driving against us with the teeth of the gale. As soon as I felt it's touch, I lept, up and out, straight into the teeth of the gale. It welcomed me, caught my spreading wings, and flipped me about, over the ridge. I'd been the first, as befitted my post as eldest. Even as I whipped around in the wind, till it was behind me, I could see the others following me. A leap into the wind, backwinging to raise them up and over the craig. Spinning and twisting in the wind, till it had their backs, driving them, driving us, over the craig, as the storm drove in towards land. The wind whipped over and under and around us, and we twisted and writhed in its grip. Long, leathery wings beat against the wind, riding it, matching it will to will. And of all the wings to beat, mine still beat the hardest, the strongest. And none of my kindred can match me in skill. I can see it, see them struggling against the wind. They fight it, pitting their will against it's. Below me, I can see one of the youngers ones, caught by a buffet of the wind. The gale drives him into the tip of the wave below. The horses of the sea will drag him under, battering him, breaking him.
We cannot win if we pit ourselves against the storm. The trick, learned slowly over our long, long lives is to learn to work with it, to ride each buffet, each gust. It is a skill I have nigh on mastered. A gust hits me from the side, and rather than fighting against it, I tuck my wings into my sides. I roll into it, cutting through it rather than trying to force myself past. As I drop, I feel the winds shift, and the wings spread again, catching another breath, winds hooking it and launching me high, higher than before. The joy of the storm is upon me, the rain slashing against my scaled and armoured hide. I roar my ecstacy into the sky, and taken by a whim, I roll over onto my back and drop. I stretch my neck and tail, arrowing straight down. I hurtle ever lower, passing my lesser kindred. The spray kisses my snout, and yet I continue my dive. My muzzle breaks the surface of the sea, and a wave crashes over my tail, flipping me over and driving me under. It's turbulent under the water, rougher even than it is in the air. 'Tis easy enough to shift until the sky is behind me and drive myself even further underwater.
The sky is dark, which means that under the water it be almost impossible to see. I can tell where I'm oriented by the sound of the rain and the crash of the waves pattering above me. My tongue flicks out, tasting the water, and with a flick of my tail I twist towards the surface. My tail lashes back and forth, as do my wings, driving me up. Three of my lengths, nose-tip to tail, from the surface, my wings fold back, and I rocket free of the water into the fury of the storm. I reach the height of the leap, and as I begin to drop back down, the wings snap open, perfectly judged to catch the wind and flick myself up. A roar of triumph is loosed from my jaws as I rise again, feeling the pressures in the air, the force of the wind, the lash and sting of the rain. As I pull further and higher into the sky, catching the updrafts and dodging the downs, I can see others trying to replicate my feat. Only the luckiest or most skilled will pull it off.
Already the storm begins to die. 'Tis perhaps a symptom of age that they seem shorter than they once were. Not as strong, not as harsh, but still, we can feel the joy and freedom of riding the storms. As the storm settles, we come back into the knife-ridge to land. As I was the first to take off, so I am the last to land. There are so few of us now, and every year there are fewer. To be fair, some of that is my fondness for such tricks as my dive, which the young bucks have yet to learn they cannot yet handle. On the other hand, next year fewer will try tricks they are not certain they are capable of, so it serves its purpose. Mayhaps we'll grow in number soon, but it matters not to me. I will not last much longer. I've lived long enough to lose nigh everything that matters, and all that remains to me now is the sky. With a roar and a bellow I touch on the ridge, for forms sake, and leap off. The ritual of the storm is complete, and the time has come for me to find a foe who can give the death that befits one of my blood, that befits the eldest of those the lesser breeds name 'Dragon'

A wee bit of backstory.

Well, I've been asked to post some more of my fiction works up here. Here be another of the Bear and Redjay stories. Again, Intellectual property of myself, Jared G. Juckiewicz, Characters belonging to Lamia Macdonald. Except those with a basis in real people, which really means two-thirds of the main characters. Those who know me may recognize certain parallels... kindly keep them to yourselves. And be warned, bad language is present, and much Alcohol is consumed.

The Bear was drunk. Whats more the Bear was more drunk than his companion the Redjay. This had never happened before. Even she, his closest confidante, the woman who'd had his back since he was outlawed, across the length and breadth of England, up the coast of England and Scotland by trading cog and viking raider, then out to Norway, east through the lands of Finn, and of Svaer and of Suomi, and then south down the Dneiper to Miklagaard. They'd even sworn oath together as Varangians and taken their baptisms side by side (Something they had been forced into by the Emperor, who would not have an open heathen in his guard).
She didn't know what had set him off. She'd never seen him like this before, despite that they'd been fighting aside each other for damn near a year now. In fact, it had been exactly a year when she thought of it, and perhaps that was it. He'd left the palace alone in the morning, after making arrangements to meet at this tavern come evening. And, almost an hour late, he'd stormed in, stormed up to where the tavernkeeper plied his trade, and demanded drink. Ale, Mead, Saxon Jaeger, Rus Vodka, even Scottish Uisquebagh, he hadn't cared. Even now, he was raising a toast. Hefting his fist, tankard gripped in it high in the air, he began to bellow. 'To The Bitch and her Bounty-Hunter. Without Whom I wouldn't be where I am today.' And as he finished, he downed his full tankard in one, suds running down his face and his armour. As soon as it was empty, he slammed it down on the wooden table, and bellowed for another.
Whilst he was waiting, he sat back down, landing heavily on the chair. He leaned to his side, and began to speak to the stranger sitting there. "'Tis How I wound up here. Witch told me I was the only one for her. And here I find her carrying on with a bounty hunter. Well, I took issue, and so did he. Helped a bit that he wanted the bounty on my prisoner." and here he looked around, his head wobbling wildly, until he caught sight of the Redjay, standing back a ways with their new companion. He was a knight, a Knight Templar in fact, and had no clue that the only reason his newfound friends followed christian ways was the Varangian Guard would not take those who refused to change from the old ways. Bear pointed at her. 'It was her' he said. 'Prisoner not bitch. She's no bitch, she's a birdie. Redjay, Redjay we called her when we put the price on her head. Vicious things Redjays...' A pause here, whilst he bellowed for the tavernkeep to hurry up with his Ale. 'Where Was I? Ah, yes. Vicious things. Bounty. He tried to steal her. Already stealed one woman from me. Put an axe through him. Punched the head into his throat.' Here his ale arrived, and he took a long draught,
Wobbled a bit. Straightened up. 'Murder. Black, Bloody Murder. Not Bloody Enough. Shoulda Blood-Eagled Him. You know what the Blood-Eagle is? NO? Well, I'll no tell you. Tis a practice of Wodin. I'm not supposed to follow Old One-Eye. I'm a christian now. Christian I tell you. Says otherwise I'll fight you, Lord O' Thunder help me.' 'Twas about this point, the Redjay decided to intervene. She wandered over next to him, and stood behind him. He leaned his head back till the top of it rested on her stomach. And staring straight up at her chin, he says in a surprisingly steady tone. 'Here she is, Lady Redjay. She helped me, she did. Held off his mates, till I had to parry with my teeth. Don't step back.' It was too good an opportunity to miss. She did. And he fell. There was laughter. Much laughter. Which grew all the more when he swung his legs off the bench, grabbed the worst offender, and yanked.
Muscles raised in the guard and harden by a year of hard living, battle and travel dragged the man to the floor, and dragged the Bear to one knee. Whilst normally, the Bear was a happy drunk, something had him off colour. He didn't even bother with the man he'd just unseated, beyond putting an elbow into the mans crotch. He just stared at the others laughing, and growled low in his throat. Whilst their new companion, the spaniard called Javier, Peacock by his friends, didn't know him well enough to see what was coming, the Redjay did. Sadly, she was not quick enough to stop him. With one of his trademarked roars, he lept at the first table he could that had people laughing at it.
He suddenly seemed far more sober now that he had adrenaline coursing. His fist struck left and right, until the Redjay and the Peacock grabbed him from behind. They yanked him back and slammed him to the ground. 'What is with you today' The Redjay snarled at him, but he stayed silent. After a minute or two he even stopped struggling. 'Let me up. I'll not kill them.' he said softly. As he stood, shakily, he stared at her, and spoke slowly and softly. "'Twas a year ago today I learned of it. She'd sworn me oath, and she broke it. Broke them. I was already in a dark mood. And after the mockery I had before I left with you, I had no stomach for more.' Another slight pause. 'I'm sorry. I'll be off now, before I cause more trouble.' As he turned to leave, his companions, old and new followed. 'We'll get some drink, and raise a toast together, Bear.' the Redjay told him, knowing enough to not leave him alone. And with that, they set out into the street, heading back to the Varangian wing of the palace.

Another Freya's Day, Another Battle

Well, I had another wargaming session today... I certainly appears to be becoming a regular event.
Space Wolves against Dark Angels again. And sadly, I lost, putting the Wolves at W-1 D-1 L-1 against Randy's Dark Angels...
'Twas damnably close though. One more dead dark angel or one fewer wolf and it'd have been a draw. and if I'd managed both I'd have taken the match. Special mentions go to the Dark Angel Land Speeder who's crew finally managed to do more than chip my Land Raiders paint, and also to te Ancient And Venerable Land Raider Redeemer called Korgon. Over the course of the battle it crippled the Dark angel land raider (Immobilizing it in a position where one of its twin-linked lascannons could see nothing and destroying the other.), wrecked their Hellfire Dreadnought, took out the Whirlwinds missile racks, immobilized the Land Speeder, and slew some 10 Marines, mostly with Flamestorm cannons. It must be pointed that the Korgon's crew seemed to have a grudge against any Dark Angel who picked up a flamer... They incinerated three of them, each one having recovered the previous victims weapon. I believe the words 'You call that a flamer? THIS is a flamer!' were uttered, although the crewmen claim they were only showing their fellow marines how to do it properly. Other mention must go to the Long Fangs who obliterated a biker squad on the first turn, and to te Dark Angel terminatours who gunned down Wulf and Sarath... not that this will inconvenience that pair for long...

As with all the battles so far, casualties were horrendous. The Space Wolves lost 5 Long Fangs, 10 Grey Hunters, 5 Wolf Guard, 2 Wolf Lords and a quartet of Fenrisian Wolves. Oh, and the Korgon lost its Twin-Linked assault cannon (Despite drawing six turns of fire from anything that could concievably scratch it.) In exchange, they claimed 17 Dark Angels tactical Marines, 3 Bikers, an Assault Bike, a Hellfire Dreadnought, and a Whirlwind destroyed or rendered hors de combat. Furthermore, a Land Speeder was immobilized, as was a Land Raider, and said Land Raider also lost one of its Lascannons.

Oh, and I mantain the superiority of the Assault Cannon as an Anti-Tank weapon, as it dropped everything up to and including the skimmer (Except for finishing off the whirlwind. that was down to a Wolf Guard who rushed the thing, blasting away with his plasma pistol, until he reached it, whereupon the Mark of the Wulffen overcame him. He tried clawing and tearing and biting at it, but to no avail. It was only when the damn thing tried to run him over that he remembered his Plasma Pistol and blew away its treads... Come to think of it, he gets an honourable mention too...)

I'm informed I may have a different opponent next week, and if not, I'll be facing a different army. Have even been told I be permitted to borrow some of the stores models, which means a larger battle, and the opportunity to try new things... maybe I'll take my camera and do a proper battle report... For Once...

Luck In Battle, My Friends

SKAAL!