Monthly Archives: January 2013


icebergThey think that I am simple. They don’t even watch their tongues when I am about. I am alright with all of that. I smile at the right times  and gently laugh at the jokes. Then I disappear once again in to the background. However, I am always listening and ever watchful. I can accomplish things that Sim-Dah can only dream of doing. I can garner information just effectively as Slanter or Zipporah, yet much less invasive. My skill set may seem common or perhaps even cowardly, but these skills are my own. I revel in my ability to escape seemingly deadly situations. I delight in the sounds of my footsteps across the rooftops just as surely as Sebben loves to hear the sound of his own voice. I cannot shoot lightning bolts from my hands or create fire with my mind, but I elude those things. I have dined in the halls of kings and stood on the corpses of dragons. Yet, they look at me from behind upturned noses. They don’t know me. They think I am simple. I am not. While my skills may seem common or cowardly, I just got all the all the information I needed… and your money pouch. Good luck trying to catch me.

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Posted by on January 31, 2013 in Penn's Diary



My name is Len and I still play Tecmo super bowl. I have a simulator on my computer, and my wife bought me the NES controller with USB cord.My friends and I play it during our lunch break. We try to see who can get the most rushing yards; Bo or Barry. We work at an asphalt plant, which is about as nasty as it sounds. It is a hot, sticky, and miserable job. However, my friends make it fun.

Assassin's Creed

I am really enjoying playing Assassin’s Creed III when I am not on here or working on my story.


Perhaps, I have been playing it too much. I found myself carrying my pen as if it were a hidden dagger. (and sometimes I would rather use it as such)

Anyway, what was your favorite game to play growing up?
Remember, I have a favorite everything!



Posted by on January 30, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author


Favorite Fantasy Fiction Character

I am the type of guy that has to have a favorite EVERYTHING. My favorite sports teams (Phillies, Eagles, Celtics) My favorite color (Plum) Favorite Painting (Dali’s The Ship) the ship

Anyway, I force this need for a favorite on the people around me. It is a slightly ridiculous character trait, but I suppose it could be worse (It could be worse, right?) So, my new bloggy friends, I need to know who your favorite fantasy fiction characters are, and why. Seriously, I NEED to know. Tell me what your favorite color too, if you want. It will only make me happier to know more and more.

It is so hard for me to pick, now that I have my own characters always bouncing around in my head. However, in all fairness, I will pick some favorites as well. Cadderly, Lord Soth, Rassiter, Flint, Berg’inyon, and Valas. I tend to like the minor characters in a story, and hope to provide my minor characters with interesting stories to keep my readers interested.


Posted by on January 29, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author


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Writing Contest

Any writers out there, here is a chance to show your work.

This is a science fiction and YA contest. Check it out, but hurry, the contest ends on Jan 31.

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Posted by on January 29, 2013 in Penn's Diary


The Lonely Tree


A cloaked and hooded figure knelt in the newly fallen snow amid a group of leafless oaks. He had one hand on the snow and the other clutched the dagger at his side. The creature stood and threw back his hood, revealing a long orange and white nose tipped in black. His nose twitched as he tried to catch the scent of the man he hunted. The triangle ears atop his head swiveled independent of one another in the hopes of picking up a noise. Master LePrius’ breath was visible in the cold as he let out a sigh of disappointment. He had lost his prey. The man in the brown hat had eluded him.

No sooner had his shoulders slumped in defeat when he heard a female voice cry out in agony. Instantly, the werefox was sprinting across the snow. LePrius spotted a crimson patch dotting the white ground, and went quickly to it. He followed the blood trail to a tree, where it disappeared. LePrius stood at the base of the great oak, unsure of where to go next. As he stood, he noticed that the blood was starting to pool at the base of the tree. His fear and uncertainty was replaced with concern, and he made circles around the tree looking for some passage.

Suddenly, a female stumbled from within the trunk of the massive tree. LePrius caught her in his arms and cradled her head. She was nude with lines of crimson running across her pale body. Her black hair spilled across his lap. He recognized that she was a dryad. He realized that she was dying.

“Who did this?” LePrius asked. She was too weak to answer. “Was it a man wearing a brown hat?” She nodded; then she died.

LePrius had chased the man, and driven him right to the dryad. Logic shouted that the werefox should not hold himself accountable for this creature’s demise, but his heart cried out and silenced reason. The dryad was beautiful. Even as she lay there, lifeless, she was still the most beautiful thing LePrius had ever laid eyes on. Then she was gone; the tree had claimed her body one last time.

The werefox made his way back to original blood pool, and found the tracks that split off from the blood trail. He would not let the man go unpunished for his murder.

Every year LePrius makes a trip to visit the tree where the dryad died. One solitary tree, dead in the middle of a beautiful grove, sits decorated with flowers that are watered by the tears of therian.


Posted by on January 28, 2013 in Penn's Diary


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Sim-Dah is Born

During the Halfling War, the ogres had to make a tough a choice. They could have helped the attacking armies in their quest to destroy the humans in Pinevale. However, they made a different choice. For too many years these great hulks had been viewed with disdain among the other races. It was a reputation that was deserved, but they longed to change the perception.

The ogres, much like the gnomes of Oliveloft, had no king. They believed in order to be taken seriously in a world ruled by dwarves, men, and elves that they must have a charismatic and strong leader. However, they were beastly and generally not tolerant of differing opinions. What the ogres did have was a magic all their own. They were able to unite two separate life forms into a magical amalgamation. They were responsible for such creatures as griffins, centaurs, harpies and many others. Some even believed that therians were created by ogres, but it was just a myth.

The ogre elite decided to take a young human child, and combine him with the greatest warrior of Yendar. They stole three children from a small village and went about the ritual. The first magical ceremony went awry, and caused the greatest warrior to go insane. The second rite was flawless, and Sim-Dah was the result. A magnificent creature that combined the greatest qualities of both races. The third child was left alone, perhaps for another combination on another day.

Sim-Dah, however, did not wish to rule over them. He rebelled almost immediately and freed the last remaining child. Together the two of them made their way through the mountains and eventually found safety among a human village. The ogres decided not to try to create a king, but realized that they must wait for one of their own to step up and lead them. Until then, they would continue to back Pinevale against invading orcs and hope that would be enough to earn respect.

Check out the new Short Story!

Posted by on January 27, 2013 in Penn's Diary


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Das Choppy Chop


     Today I went and worked at my parents house. We are clearing a large section in the back of their land that has been overrun by small trees and general scrub brush. I actually use a double sided axe to clear, just so I can envision that I am some great dwarven warrior doing work on some gobbers.

     Anyway, I was doing so much damage to those trees that I almost expected Treebeard to step out and grumble, “They come with fire, they come with axes… gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning. Destroyers and usurpers, curse them.”

     Maybe it was just the heat from the sun and the fire, but I am worn out and obviously hallucinating.

Enjoy your weekend and check out my new character sketches!

double axe


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Posted by on January 26, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author


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The Lying Tree

the Lying TreeThere is a legend around Oliveloft, one that I am certain was created to keep children from telling false stories to their parents. I say “legend” for I searched and searched for the tree, and never came upon it. The story goes like this:

Once upon a time there was a tree that had been awakened, meaning it had gained the ability to communicate in the common tongue. However, the tree was still firmly rooted in the same place and it was jealous of the gnomes that so freely moved around it. So one day the tree called out to a lone traveler.

At first the gnome was glad to talk with the tree, for he expected the old tree to be wise and full of knowledge. However, the tree was blinded by its jealousy and the truth could not be found in it. Over and over the tree would make up lies to try to make its life seem more exhilarating. The gnome accepted the fallacies at first, but over time they began to wear on him. Finally, the gnome simply stopped coming by the tree at all. He made sure that everyone knew not to believe a thing the tree said. The gnomes all avoided the lying tree from that day forward, and left it to its solitude and lies.

Today’s liar is tomorrows loner.

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Posted by on January 25, 2013 in Penn's Diary


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Madness Embraced

There is no poison I won’t swallow

Not a thing that I won’t do

The lead of love I have to follow

Because I’m crazy about you

My love can be whatever you need

Not a thing that I won’t try

This love has now become my creed

It will not run or die

A storm that not a thing can quell

A flow that can’t be damned

A wall that not a soul can scale

A gate that holds when rammed

A prophecy that will be filled

Forever etched in solid stone

The raging waters will be stilled

For I will never be alone

I will remain all my days

Like a predator laying in wait

Longing to love a million ways

Passion drawn from hate

My mind can’t know your resistance

Or if your love for me replaced

An insane love spawns persistence

As my madness is embraced

Eternal slumber embracing me

Illusions of reality are laid to rest

Mirrors of perception displacing me

Hosting madness as my guest

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Posted by on January 25, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author


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Deer Hunter; Wherefore Art Thou?

Is there such thing as “hunting” a deer anymore? I mean, these guys go out in gear that makes them virtually indistinguishable from the surrounding forest. They have scent blinder to ensure that the deer don’t have the advantage of using their noses. Then, they have fun little chairs that they put up in the trees.

Surely they jump out of the trees and wrestle the great beasts to the ground, right? Nope. They shoot them with high powered rifles from upwards of 200 yards away. Some even go so far as to set out corn to lure the deer in to the death trap.

So I ask you how, then, how does a guy shoot a deer and then not be able to find it? How wasteful is this? Did you need the meat to feed your starving family? Were the skins to provide shelter through a hard winter? If so, you probably would not have let it become a coyote feast.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not against hunting. I am against the way that it is done now, and the lack of respect for the animal hunted.

Crying Indian


Posted by on January 24, 2013 in From the Desk of the Author


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