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Monthly Archives: March 2014

Entry # 8 “Tell Us Your Elven Story”

This is my Story for Legendary Post.
Let me know what you think, and go to the site to read some other great elf stories.

Legendary Post

female elf

Crimson Legacy by Len Weatherly

Lady Swarmstrike heard the shuffle of her daughter’s feet as she returned from her classes at the Crimson Academy. The lady of the house was pouring over some old tomes, and spoke over her left shoulder toward the hallway.

“How was your training today?”

There was only silence. It was not the first time Swarmstrike had been ignored by her daughter; so, she simply tucked her dark curls behind her pointed ear and continued her reading. Lady Swarmstrike’s face was flawlessly smooth, which belied her nearly three hundred years of life. She had seen many battles, but her visage still seemed that of a young girl. It had taken Swarmstrike much longer to settle down and have children due to her travelling across Delphia. She had not been prepared to have sole responsibility of her daughter, but the death of her husband left her unprepared…

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Posted by on March 27, 2014 in Penn's Diary

 

The Weasel Catch

Penn and his friends were making their way toward the gaming arena. The carnival at Oliveloft always hosted the greatest games, for gnomes loved the spirit of friendly competition. The group of young gnomes, still children really, ran through the crowded streets in a herd. Each one of them carried one of Avie’s small bags of candy. They had been visiting the vendor shops, looking at all the strange devices some of the other races created. Penn was very excited about seeing a real mirror for the first time. It had already been a good day.

As the group neared the gaming area, they saw Popo and Mofead beckoning them with waving arms. Popo had her hair cut short. It made her look like a boy, were it not for her posturing and the way it accentuated her transformation into adulthood. Mofead was still gangly and thin. She was all knees and elbows with a huge head. Perhaps it wasn’t that her head was quite so large, Penn thought as they advanced on the two young gnomes, but that she had such a vast amount of tangled hair. Regardless, the group from Brentwood were all together just in time for their favorite event; the weasel catch.

“You cut your hair,” Attilla remarked to Popo as they walked to the fenced in area where the contestants were readying themselves. “It looks good short.” Popo blushed a little and turned her head slightly from him. He noticed her neck and saw slight goose bumps rise there as a mild wind caught the skin that was accustomed to the cover of her hair.

“Why did you cut it off?” Bodiford asked her in an almost accusatory tone.

“My mom sold it to some weird human who said he wanted it,” Popo answered with a slight show of shame. Her hair had been long as long as she could remember, but times were hard for her family and the man gave them a lot of coin.

Mofead grabbed Bodiford’s arm and joyously proclaimed, “I still have my long hair.”

The gnome yanked his arm away and offhandedly said, “Who cares?”

Penn wasn’t paying any attention to the group, he was checking to see who the contestants were to be in the catch this year. There were always seven, but he only saw five of them. Last year’s winner was not there yet. Graff, a gnome from Oliveloft, had caught the weasel by kicking it as it ran past him. The poor animal died by the time Graff received his undeserved trophy. Penn turned to ask the others if they knew anything about the last two contestants, but saw Graff walking quickly to the starting area.

Penn bolted over to Graff and said kindly, “Hey, try not to kill the weasel this year.” He was surprised when Graff pushed him backwards violently.

“Mind your own business, slug!” the gnome stated and barely slowed as he reached the weasel catch.

Attilla and Bodiford were there in an instant, asking if Penn was alright. He was fine, just a little shocked. Popo, Mofead and the others joined the trio just as an announcement was being made about the game.

“Unfortunately this year it seems that we will only have six contestants in the weasel catch.” The man’s voice boomed from a raised platform which allowed him to see the entire arena so that he could announce what was transpiring for those who could not see. “So, are you ready for the weasel catch?”

“No,” yelled a voice from beside Penn. “We have a guy right here who wants to try,” Attilla stated as he pointed to Penn. The others from Brentwood joined in and shoved the befuddled gnome out from the crowd. Penn was shocked. He turned to his friends to beg them not to embarrass him, but when he saw the proud faces looking back at him he realized that they truly believed he had a shot at winning.

“I don’t think that we can allow a random stranger to join this late,” the announcer said, but was met with a chorus of “boos”.

“Let the boy try!”

“We need seven contestants anyway!”

Gnomes were less interested in rules and more intrigued by the competition. So the announcer asked Penn, “Are you sure you want to do this, boy?”

“Yes,” Penn said without hesitation. He gave his friends a big “thumbs up” and ran to the starting gate.  He heard them yelling that he better not let Graff get the weasel again. The image of Graff kicking and killing the animal motivated Penn more than any of the people’s cheers.

The seven contestants were ready in the starting blocks. There were four gnomes, two humans, and a dwarf all ready to start. Each one’s name was called, except for Penn who was just referred to as “the boy”. Regardless of what he was called, he still got the loudest applause from the crowd. Everyone loved to pull for the underdog.

The weasel was brought in from the Pinevale area by a hunter who traveled to Oliveloft every year for the carnival. The trapper sold furs and clothing. He was a large man with a ragged beard. The covered cage was handed over, and the cloth cover was pulled off. Inside was beautiful little weasel with black eyes and reddish tan fur. Its nose twitched as it tried to take in all of the scents. The gnomes always loved the unveiling of the weasel.

Penn stretched and did a few jumps, just to get his legs loose. While he was getting ready, so was Attilla. The clever gnome had taken all of the other’s money and was betting it on Penn. All of the Brentwood kids had played with Penn enough to know that he actually stood a fair chance of winning. It was still a gamble, however. They knew that if he lost they would have no more money for the rest of the carnival. Regardless, every coin the group had was placed on Penn.

One of the humans looked over at Penn and shook her head. “Damn! You got runners legs.” She meant the compliment, and Penn could tell.

“Doesn’t he, now?” the dwarf had obviously noticed the same thing. He leaned in to where only those two could hear him and continued, “Did ya see last year’s winner? He has metal on the toes of his shoes.” Penn and the woman both looked, for they had not noticed. The dwarf was correct, however, and anger started to manifest in Penn. “Guess he plans on punting the little guy again,” the dwarf finished, but Penn wasn’t listening.

“Loose the weasel,” the announcer shouted, and the audience started cheering. The small beast got a head start before the pursuers were allowed to start their game. The arena was fairly large, which gave the weasel a fair chance to elude the chasers. Also, the obstacles and walls would slow down the pursuit.

Finally, the contestants were allowed to start the chase. Penn broke from the starting blocks, but was kicked immediately by Graff and his metal tipped boots. His shin throbbed, and he was certain that it was bleeding. He did not stop, though. Penn would not give Graff the pleasure of knowing that he had indeed hurt him. The crowd shouted angry insults at the cheater. A lot of them had not been pleased with the way he had won last year’s event.

Penn didn’t care. The chase was on, and he knew what he had to do. No one had found the weasel yet, so it was more like a hunt at this point that a chase. So Penn nimbly maneuvered over and under the obstacles, trying to get the scared little weasel to run out. Unfortunately, the weasel was on the opposite side of the gnome. One of the humans had drawn him out, and now it was just a matter of time before someone grabbed the furry little thing.

Penn was quick, and he took wonderful angles on the scared weasel. It was almost in grabbing range when Penn realized that they were running right at Graff and his heavy boots. Graff raised his foot to kick the weasel once again, but Penn was there. Penn slid into the other gnome with enough force to send him head over heels. The weasel was safe, but now Penn had to try to catch back up to it. Graff reached out to try and grab him, but Penn easily stepped over his flailing arms.

The human woman was on the weasel and had a great line on it, but the dwarf cut her off. He shouldered her back as they pressed through a narrowed section of the arena. Penn saw a different approach. Instead of getting behind them, he decided to go over them. He quickly ran and leaped from an old plow to the top of a cargo net. Penn jumped from the net and landed on the narrowing planks. The wood was only about a foot wide, but Penn ran on top of it as if it were an open field. He watched the dwarf and woman battling for position underneath him as he sprinted over their heads.

A perfectly timed jump had him sailing over three bales of hay. As he landed, Penn rolled in a cloud of dust. The crowd went silent until the gnome boy strolled out of the dust with weasel in hand. The dwarf and female came around, one on each side of Penn. The dwarf scratched his head, and the woman just chuckled. The pack from Brentwood cheered loudest of all.

Penn was awarded the trophy, while Attilla collected the money. Penn asked the trapper if he could keep the weasel. The man agreed, but warned the gnome that weasels do not survive well in captivity. It was a good day, but it was time to get back to Brentwood before it got too dark. So the crew set off for home. The real adventure was yet to begin, however.

Attilla gave everyone back their money while they were on the road between Oliveloft and Brentwood. He handed the winnings to Popo, “This is for you and your family.”

“Yeah,” Bodiford added. “That way you don’t have to ruin your hair again.”

Popo thanked them, knowing that the extra coin would certainly help her family. The moment was cut short when someone called out from behind the group.

“Hey,” yelled Graff, “You ruined my plan.” He went straight at Penn, but did not get to him. Attilla and Bodiford both stepped between. “This doesn’t concern you two. It is between me and him.” Graff didn’t understand how things were in Brentwood.

“You want him?” Bodiford asked. “Then you are gonna have your hands full.” Attilla nodded. He was in no mood for talking. He was doing his best to keep his therian instincts from boiling over.

Graff took a swing at Bodiford. It was a mistake. The Brentwood gnomes played for keeps, and the group had Graff neutralized quickly and violently. Penn and the girls were the only ones who did not help the others against Graff. Attilla did not rage into his wereporcupine form that day. He was learning how to control it, Penn observed.

Graff never entered the weasel catch again. Penn won it for the next twenty years, and every year he would keep the weasel. When he got home he would release the weasel by his home. To this day there is a thriving community of weasels around Brentwood.

 
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Posted by on March 26, 2014 in Penn's Diary

 

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Hieu the phung assassin

Hieu

 
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Posted by on March 25, 2014 in Penn's Diary

 

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Time Flies When You Are Having Fun

Happy Birthday, to me!

Happy Birthday, to me!

 

 

P1010414

They Grow Up so Fast!

Happy Birthday to Me!!!!!

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2014 in From the Desk of the Author

 

Spartan Up!

Spartan up

Spartan Up! is a book by Joseph De Sena. This book is set up to help you conquer the everyday obstacles that will undoubtedly come your way. It also tackles tough issues such as childhood obesity and poor nutrition.

Hundreds of companies have used Joe’s Spartan Up methods to build even more successful business operations, while thousands upon thousands of individuals have used the same principles to change their lives.

I, myself, have enjoyed the challenges offered by the Spartan Race. It pushed me to my limits and seemed to calm my nerves. I had recently accepted a promotion, and things were tough at work; however, none of that factored in during the race. I was so focused on completing the task, that those things faded into the background (which is where they belong). Instead of concerning myself with my job, I took my wife’s hand and together we proudly conquered obstacle after obstacle. Together, with other every day warriors, we went the distance and earned the medals that were placed around our necks.

Helping Hand

Spartan Race drives competitors to their very limit to learn what they are capable of and sets a new frame of reference; one th ey can draw upon in the face of life’s harshest challenges. Competitors climb ropes, crawl under barbed wire, and jump over fire, as well as a host of other boot-camp-like maneuvers. Everyday disappointments and setbacks seem small when you’ve been to the other side of hell and made it back as a victor.

  • Getting Spartan fit: Survival of the Fittest means training outside the gym for strength, endurance and flexibility for your entire body—and don’t forget those burpees!
  • Moving mountains: Whether metaphorical mountains or the ones on which Spartans race, what you think of as your limitations can actually be a mere starting point for transformation.
  • Finding the will to succeed: The first half of a race you run with your legs; the second half you run with your mind. Turn your pain into an outboard motor to drive you forward.
 
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Posted by on March 14, 2014 in From the Desk of the Author

 

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William Blake

blake

William Blake may very well be my favorite author/poet/artist. His works are inspiring and thought provoking. His religious beliefs, which rely mainly on a relationship with the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and seem to conflict with the structural confines of the church, fall closely in line with my own. However, it is his relationship with his wife that most endears me to the man. They loved each other in a true and deep manner, which seemed to transcend this earth and our short lives on it. This is the manner in which I want to love.

One of my favorite paintings of his, The Ghost of a Flea, seems to show a sort of vampiric creature that he claims to have seen in his dreams.

flea

He also wrote the Songs of Innocence and the Songs of Experience, which clearly show the difference that perception can make in one’s life.

He was petitioned to do paintings for Dante’s Inferno, but died while working on these pieces.

God

Here is my favorite of Blake’s poems

poison tree

 
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Posted by on March 11, 2014 in From the Desk of the Author

 

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Tell Us Your Elven Story… Legendary Post Elven Story Writing Contest

Legendary Post

magic-alpha-elvisharchers 2Tell Us Your Elven Story… Legendary Post Elven Story Writing Contest

It has been too long since we have done a Writing Contest

And so…

WHAT’S KNOWN SO FAR

1) Stories Must Be Elf Related

2) Stories May Be No More Than 1,000 Words

3) Stories Must Be Turned In By March 31st

4) Stories Will Be Judged April 1st-10th

5) Winners Will Be Announced April 11th

6) Judges Yet To Be Determined

7) 4 to 8 Judges Shall Be Chosen

8) All Stories Will Be Posted On This Blog As They Are Received

9) Winners Shall Receive Badges Which Can Be Placed On Their Blogs For All To See

10) If I’m Lucky, My Friend Will Once Again Create Cool Award Badges (Or I Shall Come Up With Something)

11) There Will Be 1st (Gold), 2nd (Silver), 3rd (Bronze), Reader’s Choice Awards Given

12) Blog Writers ‘Are’ Allowed To…

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Posted by on March 10, 2014 in Penn's Diary

 
 
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