My Stuff

Fangorth

Now I’m back in Sayed, on top of the lighthouse, watching out for a guy named Fangorth or something. He’s going to stash some cash and I’m supposed to steal it and give it to this local enforcer.

I’m conflicted about this. I’m a healer and now a member of the Imperial cult. I don’t really want to be running around squeezing poor people for thugs. There is a smuggler’s den I could also investigate, at least there’s no moral quandary there.

The problem is I need a mace in order to advance as a healer. This is a interesting gameplay design. Usually games say, as a healer you can only use certain weapons and then penalize you for using the incorrect ones. Morrowind says you can do what you want, but if you want to advance as a healer, use blunt weapons.

All I have is a dagger. I guess I could use my fists until I find a mace.

We Noticed

There are periods of history when the visions of madmen and dope fiends are a better guide to reality than the common-sense interpretation of data available to the so-called normal mind. This is one such period, if you haven’t noticed already. –Robert Anton Wilson

Should Be My Family’s Motto

As a rule we disbelieve all the facts and theories for which we have no use. –William James

Outward Writing Thinking

I’m apparently writing. I ate some food late, and while I was cooking, I was pacing. I was thinking, I was writing. I seem to burning a little brightly right now; that may explain the frustration. I guess. I’m not sure about that, but maybe the burning somehow

Blogapocalypse

It was a long bad day. I was going to write today. It had such promise at the start. Ideas were just bubbling through, and for some reason the wind has shifted. I write all the time, but it’s for me, for my journal. I have to fight to

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We Noticed

Should Be My Family’s Motto

Outward Writing Thinking

Blogapocalypse