I was liked by most, always got what I wanted, and always willing to give and help others in need. Looking back over my life I can truly thank the Lord because my childhood was a walk through the park – hey no physical abuse. I guess you can say I was a little spoiled (selfish because of having been allowed to do or have what I wanted to an excessive degree). I was always told in order to get ahead in life you do what's RIGHT; go to school and get good grades – treat others the way you want to be treated. What's crazy is that I was doing those things, but always had this weird feeling of never feeling connected to anything or anybody, but hey I figured that was just a part of life.

So I learned how to adjust to change by never allowing myself to get too close to anybody or too comfortable in any situation. Then one day something happened – my eight year relationship come to an end. It wasn't like I didn't see it coming, it's almost like I predicted it to happen. I was actually okay with it because again isn't change apart of life – everyone that comes into it is there to teach you something right!! My teacher had taught me that just because I did everything I possibly could to show that I loved and cared for him; sacrificing time, money, and health; he had to believe that I loved him in his own heart. And so my testimony was that you cannot prove to anybody you love them they simply have to believe it, right – WRONG.

The REAL testimony is not even about him – it's all about ME. What I hadn't realized is that I held an underlying belief that if I become the person you want me to be then you will love me!! It points to fear of being rejected and abandon. It's the fear of if I be myself that I won't be good enough to be LOVED! WOW – as a child I my have become a victim of those fears because it was how I learned to survive, but here I am as an adult being a VOLUNTEER (somebody who does something voluntarily, especially something undesirable) victim.

You see all those years what I had really being doing is building a wall around myself – living on Fantasy Island. Never understanding that yes life will cause all kinds of changes and that it is good to be able to adjust, but that doesn't mean that I never allow myself to get close to anybody.  I have slowly been tearing down the walls and reminding myself that I don't have to audition for the VICTIM roles in life anymore. That my story will not come to an end if those that I love reject me and eventually abandon me – it simply means that chapter has ended because there is a new script with a deeper level of love and commitment that has been written for me to discover. Do I still take trips back to Fantasy Island – of course!! To say I don't is like taking a bottle from a baby and expecting him/her to adjust overnight. The one thing that I am grateful to have learned to program into my thinking is to Enjoy the Journey and Not the Final Destination.  So tell me what's your FANTASY?

Sam awoke to the sounds of glass beads tinkling in the darkness. Instantly alert, she very quietly and carefully moved her hand from her sword to a dagger at her waist. Opening her eyes the barest fraction, she scanned the room without moving her head. A figure stood in the darkness, its form outlined in the flickering light coming from the window. The figure stood near Bob, who still slept soundly. Sam tensed her body, preparing to leap upon the figure at the first sign of danger. The figure raised an arm to its head, and Sam slid the dagger from her belt. She saw the flash of lace about the figures wrist and the dagger slid noiselessly back into place with a silent exhale.

Sam quietly stood and approached Phillip, laying a hand gently upon his shoulder. He gave a small start as he turned to face her. Sam made a motion with her head towards the front room. Phillip nodded and followed her into the shop proper.

“What were you doing in there?” Sam asked quietly once the sleeping area was safely behind them.

“I was just… uh…” Phillip stammered, “Looking for something.”

“You aren’t going to find what you are looking for in there,” Sam told him sternly.

Phillip lowered his eyes shamefully.

“Are you and he…”

“No, Phillip, we are not together,” Sam said, her voice softening. “But I know him well enough to say that he doesn’t pick from the same flower bed you do.”

The two looked at each other in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Finally Phillip let out a deep sigh.

“I didn’t mean any harm, Sam.” Phillip said sadly. “I was only looking.”

“It was creepy, Phil,” Sam’s stern voice had returned. “If I woke up to find someone watching me like that, I would probably attack first and then see what they were up to. And Bob is a mage, he might react with a little more force than a gasp of surprise.”

“You’re right, of course,” Phillip said with another deep sigh. “I just get so lonely, Sam. There are aren’t that many that share my tastes, and those that don’t tend to show their opinions with their fists. I am reduced to ogling and fantasizing just to make sure that I don’t get beaten.”

“You just need to be more careful, Phil,” Sam told her brother, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Most men are going to react that way, and I don’t think that you are very well suited towards brawling.”

“That’s true,” Phillip answered with a half smile. He withdrew from Sam’s embrace and sat down on a pile of fabric.

“Any luck with the pearls?” Sam asked after another long silence.

“Oh!” cried Phillip, glad to be off the subject. “Yes, very good luck indeed! Here.”

He tossed two small leather pouches to Sam, who caught one in each hand. She tucked one into her waistband and opened the other. Looking inside, she gave a low whistle of appreciation.

“Is the other as full as this?” she asked.

“They are both the same,” Phillip answered. “He wouldn’t give me a price for each, only as the set. But the price was good enough that I took it and split it down the middle.”

Sam tossed the pouch she had been examining back to Phillip.

“Give this one to Bob when he wakes up,” she said. “I’m going to go get something to eat.”

“There’s a tavern two streets south and one east that has the best food,” Phillip offered. “But it’s kind of a rough place, especially this time of night.”

Sam slipped her head and arm through the strap of her scabbard and cinched it tight.

“I usually don’t worry too much about that sort of thing,” she said with a smile. “Tell the other two where I went when they wake up.”

“All right,” Phillip said, eyes flickering towards the doorway.

“And no watching him sleep,” Sam reminded her brother.

“I’ll keep busy cleaning the shop,” he promised. “Be careful, Sam.”

“I’m always careful,” she answered with a smile, and then she stepped out of the doorway into the street.

* * *

Sam walked down the dirty streets following Phillips directions. She looked from side to side, surveying the condition of the cottages and shops. When she reached the correct location, she looked up to see a wooden sign dangling at an awkward angle from one iron hook. The other hook was broken, and judging by the rust, had been for quite some time.

“The Fanciful Philly,” Sam read aloud. “How quaint.”

Sam pushed her way through the wooden doors that complained loudly, old hinges screaming in protest. She was immediately assaulted by noise and the unholy stench of booze and sweat. Rowdy men of all shapes sizes and odors were arrayed around the large room, seated at dimly lit tables. A multitude of women in various states of undress circulated among the tables, occasionally stopping to talk to groups of men who would start being more boisterous.

A quick scan of the bar revealed an empty table in a dark corner, away from the majority of the crowd. Sam walked a rapid path towards it, her circuitous route winding around several of the crowded tables.

As she passed by a group of men who were laughing drunkenly, a pudgy hand reached out and took hold of Sam's lower set of chain mail, and the anatomy underneath.

“Hey there, honey!” the owner of the hand slurred loudly, “Sit that fine ass down! We can have ourselves a real good time.”

Sam stopped mid stride and turned to face her assailant. The hand did not release its hold on her.

“Hey there yourself,” she purred at the man. “You’re quite the frisky devil, aren't ya? Like what you feel?”

The man gave a couple of experimental squeezes.

“It doesn’t have as much give as I usually like,” he said, continuing to knead Sam’s flesh, “But as my fisher friends here always tell me, any port in a storm.”

Sam smiled at the man and batted her eyes as she shifted position to lean a little closer to the man.

“How would you like to feel more,” she asked, simpering.

The man turned his friends and gave a knowing look, then turned his watery eyes back to Sam.

His eyes almost, but not quite made it all the way back up to her face.

“I would defin.. itl… um, absotiv…” he paused and seemed to come to the conclusion that big words were beyond his current capacity.

“Yes,” he finished lamely.

With a flash, Sam’s dagger was at the mans throat and her sword free of its scabbard and poised above her head, ready to swing.

The dagger pressed tightly against the flabby skin, indenting the flesh dangerously.

“Can you feel that?” Sam asked in a dangerous whisper. “Are you feeling anything more now?”

The man’s eyes were wide, sobriety seeming to come to him in a flash. He said nothing in answer to Sam’s question.

“If you ever want to feel anything ‘more’ with that hand again, I suggest you remove it,” Sam snarled, “Now.”

Every eye in the tavern was watching the scene, the mans friends had all become instantly silent. The man very carefully removed his hand from Sam’s body and let it fall to his side, fingertips dangling near the floor. He tentatively tried to back away from the dagger at his throat. When it did not follow, he continued leaning back, away from the sharp edge until the front feet of his chair left the ground. Sam watched him carefully, holding the dagger steadily in place until the chair was at a rather precarious angle. She suddenly gave a tiny flick of the dagger towards the man and he overbalanced and he toppled over backwards, arms flailing uselessly. He lay on the sawdust covered floor, staring up at Sam.

Sam flicked her wrist and the dagger was back inside her belt. The sword went back into its scabbard as quickly as it had been removed. Without a word, she turned her back on the sprawling man and continued her path towards her selected table. The crowd began talking softly, and in moments the tavern was filled with the low hum of a hundred quiet voices. By the time Sam reached her table and seated herself, the hum had grown into the cacophony it had been when Sam had entered.

Sam sat quietly at her table for several minutes, scanning the crowd, glaring down any curious stares that came her way. When she was satisfied that she wouldn’t be bothered, she began looking for a barmaid. To her surprise, one was already making her way through the crowd towards her table.

“Wine?” the barmaid asked without preamble.

“Uh, yes, please,” Sam answered as the woman placed a large goblet in front of her.

Caught off guard by the prompt service, she fumbled at her belt pouch for a few coins. A gentle hand stopped her before she could unfasten the drawstring.

“You don’t pay for anything tonight, sweetie,” the server told her. “You put Earl in his place, and that paid your tab.”

“Oh, umm, thanks,” Sam stammered, still a bit confused. “I gather that he is a bit of a problem on a regular basis?”

For an answer, the woman turned her back on Sam and raised the hem of her skirt to expose her buttocks. They were covered with dark purple bruises, and one red mark that was quickly blossoming to match its neighbors. The woman let the skirt fall and turned to face Sam again.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” Sam said tightly. “Have you talked to the owner? Can he get them to stop?”

“That was the owner.”

“Oh, really.” Sam said with narrowed eyes pointed at Earl, who quickly turned his own gaze away. “And I gather that he doesn’t exactly discourage similar behavior from the customers?”

“Exactly the opposite.”

“Then I am a bit confused,” Sam turned her gaze back to the barmaid. “I don’t think that he is the one buying me a drink, so who is?”

“Me,” she answered, “And some of the other ladies as well. We have a community fund that we set up and everybody pitches into. Your drinks are coming out of that fund.”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but why did you set up this fund?”

“It’s a long story,” she answered evasively.

“I have time,” Sam retorted, “And the longer you are standing here, the less frequently your ass will get grabbed.”

“Good point,” she said as she shifted to a more comfortable position leaning against the table. “A few years back, a woman a lot like you came in here and Earl did pretty much the same thing to her. She wound up kicking the shit out of pretty much everyone in the place.”

“She went nuts and tore into everyone in the bar for that? Sam asked, surprised.

“Nooo,” the barmaid said slowly, surveying the room with a practiced eye. “She did it because they all ganged up on her, like they are getting ready to do to you.”

A quick glance around the room confirmed the girls statement. About a third of the men were making their cautious way towards the door, and the rest were glaring at Sam and murmuring under their breath. Earl was in the center of the room, talking feverishly to several men who were gathered in a circle around him. They were all nodding in turn as he gestured instructions for each of them.

Sam heaved a great sigh and turned her attention back towards the barmaid.

“I’m still too damn tired for this shit,” she said. “That still hasn’t explained the collection plate you gals have.”

The girl was looking back and forth between Sam and the gathering crowd.

“Well,” she began nervously, “We were hoping that she would come back. If she did, then we were going to offer her the money to get into another fight with Earl and maybe do a little more damage. Like maybe permanent damage. Like dead damage.”

“Why don’t you just kill him yourself?” Sam asked, keeping an eye on the crowd. She estimated she had about five more minutes before they were all in place and had enough liquid courage poured into their gullets.

“We know that if Earl dies, the bar goes to his son,” the barmaid was talking faster now, anxious to get out of the fight that was inevitably coming. “His son doesn’t want anything to do with the bar, so we were going to buy it from him. We figured that he wouldn’t want to sell it to the ladies that killed his old man.”

“Why not just buy it from Earl?”

“We tried,” she answered, beginning to back away towards a far corner where the rest of the ladies had gathered. “He took the money then claimed that he didn’t know what we were talking about the next day.”

“You mean he cheated you?” Sam asked, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, and then he started taking a bigger cut of what we made so it would be harder to get the money together again.”

A loud voice bellowed across the tavern.

“Stella! Stop flapping your lips and get back to work!” Earl yelled.

Sam took a firm hold on Stella’s arm as she glowered at the man.

“Stay here,” she ordered.

“But…” Stella protested.

“Make him come to us,” Sam whispered, turning her eyes upward to meet Stella’s. “And see if you can get some more of the women to join us without leaving my table.”

Stella looked at her nervously and fidgeted as she darted quick glances around the room. Earl glared at the pair of women, but made no move towards them. Seeing that she was not in any immediate danger, Stella stopped fidgeting when she caught the eye of another barmaid and motioned her over. The maid glanced at the group of men nervously, but gave a small nod and walked over to join them. Sam ordered her to gather the rest of the girls and return as quickly as possible. Soon, the still seated Samantha was surrounded by the female workers of the tavern, and the male patrons were gathered around Earl.

The two groups faced each other in silence. A brash male voice from the crowd broke the tense silence.

“Earl, what the hell is going on here?” he asked. “My ale is empty and I’m getting lonely.”

Earl looked at his cronies arrayed around him and found his bravery in their numbers.

“You wenches get back to work!” he ordered in a loud voice.

Sam stood and moved to the forefront of the gathered women.

“What makes you think you have any right to order them around?” she asked, voice eerily calm. “They don’t work for you.”

“The hell they don’t,” Earl retorted, stepping a few paces forward and placing his beefy hands on a table as he leaned towards Sam.

“They bought this place from you,” Sam said, walking to the same table Earl was leaning on. She matched his pose as the two glared across the table.

“No they didn’t,”

An angry collective protest arose from the ladies. Sam held up a hand to silence them before continuing.

“Yes, they did.” She countered. “They made you an offer. You accepted and took their money. Then you lied about having done so.”

Earl stood from his leaning stance and addressed the assembled men in a loud voice.

“Who owns this place?” he asked.

“You!” came the scattered but unanimous response from the men.

“You see?” Earl asked as he resumed his leaning posture, “Everyone in town knows that this is my place.

Sam rose abruptly and Earl took an involuntary step back.

“Everyone in town is about to learn the truth,” Sam said, voice cold. She raised her voice and addressed the tavern. “These women bought and paid for this bar. They own it, and they want you all to leave, right now. Earl, you are going to walk out of this bar and never return. The rest of you are welcome to come back under the new management.”

Earl began to laugh and was quickly joined by the rest of the men. He advanced on Sam, moving around the table and cracking his knuckles. A nasty leer spread across his face as he moved, then he suddenly stopped.

It took a moment for him to realize that he had stopped, since his legs had continued to move. He glanced down at the floor to see his still walking feet hovering several inches above the sawdust covered floor. His eyes widened as he stopped moving his ineffective feet, then he turned a nasty look on Sam, who favored him with a bemused shrug.

“Don’t glare at me,” she told him. “I can’t do anything like that.”

Earl looked helplessly at his cronies, who retuned the look in kind. He looked around the bar, hoping to see the source of his predicament, but stopped when he heard a high pitched voice from the area of his feet.

“Place your bets, Ladies and Gentlemen!” Tink cried. “Round and round he goes, where he stops, nobody knows! Heads or tails?”

Tink took a firm hold on each of Earl's pant legs and gave a mighty yank. Earl began to spin in mid air, his ample belly the center point as his head exchanged places with his feet. Earl continued to spin head over heels as he flailed his arms wildly and spewed curses furiously.

“Hi, Sam,” Tink said, turning her back on the spinning innkeep. “Miss us?”

Bob sat down at Samantha’s vacated table and touched his fingertips together in front of his face.

“Interesting establishment,” he said as he surveyed his surroundings. “I love the décor.”

Sam reclaimed her chair and fell casually into it, propping one booted foot onto the table.

“The service is great,” she said with a grin, “But it seems to suffer from poor management. I was about to see what I could do to improve the situation. I think some staff cuts may be in order.”

Bob grimaced.

“That was horrible,” he whispered as Earl slowed to a stop.

Tink stood beneath Earls prostate form, looking straight up into his face as he hovered several feet above the floor. She flashed the sweaty man an evil grin before hopping onto the table.

“Who had horizontal?” she cried. “Anyone? Anyone? Nobody had horizontal? Then the pot doubles and we spin again!”

Tink jumped from her perch, grabbing two tiny handfuls of Earls hair on the way to the floor and yanking violently.

With a scream of pain, Earl once again began a rapid rotation.

He was beginning to look a little green.

Bob turned his attention away from the side show and directed his attention back to Sam.

“What did you intend to do to rectify this little problem?” he asked.

“These lovely ladies,” Sam gestured with her flagon of ale, “Gave the fat man a load of money to purchase this establishment quite some time ago. He seems to have forgotten the transaction, and I was going to prod his memory a bit.”

Earl’s rotation once again slowed to a halt, his head several inches from the floor.

“Tails!” Tink cried. “I had tails! I win! Gimme a drink!”

One of the barmaids filled a mug with ale and set it on a chair near Tink. The elf grabbed hold of the handle and slurped greedily at the mugs contents. She slammed it back down on the floor and wiped foam from her face with her sleeve. She heaved a great sigh of satisfaction and grabbed Earls sleeve.

“One! More! Time!” she cried.

Bob lifted a hand as he rose from his chair

“Hold, Tink,” he said. “I would speak with the inverted gentleman.”

Bob walked around the table and gently removed Tink’s hand from Earls arm. Gently, he turned the man upright and turned to face the crowd. He pulled a small round object from an inner pocket and held it aloft.

“Does anyone know what this is?” he asked.

“I seen me one of them once,” said a voice. “That there is a Truth Stone.”

“Correct.” Bob said. “For those that don’t know, a Truth Stone will glow bright red if a lie is told, and blue for a truth.”

Bob held the stone with his thumb and forefinger and gently held it over Earls head. Gingerly, he released it and it hovered in place.

“I’m going to ask you a few yes or no questions, Earl.” he said.

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin,” Earl retorted defiantly.

Sam hopped from her chair and strode quickly to Earl and gave Bob a glance. Bob gave a small nod and Sam gave Earl a quick shove. He spun backwards and Sam grabbed a foot and held him upside down once again. She held the leg with a firm grip and quickly shoved the barkeep towards the floor. A hollow thud arose from Earls head as it hit the floor.

“Yes, Earl,” Sam said as she bent forward to look him in the inverted eyes, “you are.”

Earls spinning eyes glared back at Sam.

“That hurt, you bitch!” he snarled.

“Oh, we cant have that,” Tink said with a scowl. She deftly produced a leather glove from her belt and put a tiny hand in it. The leather fingers jammed into Earl’s nostrils and Tink began a rapid lap around the bar, towing the fat man like a child’s wagon, occasionally bouncing his head against chairs, tables and floors. She returned him to his original spot, and Bob carefully adjusted the position of the Truth Stone.

“No more big boy words, Mister Latrine Mouth,” Tink said as she wiped her gloved fingers on Earl’s soiled garments.

“Well, if the high jinks are concluded,” Bob intoned, “would you please tell me your full name?”

Earl visibly tightened his lips and remained silent.

Sam strode forward and reached for a foot.

“Okay!” Earl cried before the clasp took hold. “It’s Earl Futzwaggle.”

“Futzwaggle?” Sam, Bob and Tink repeated in astonishment.

“Yeah, Futzwaggle.” Earl said defiantly. “It is an old and respected name!”

The Truth Stone glowed with a cool blue light.

“Do you own this establishment? Bob continued his interrogation.

“Yes.”

The blue glow paled for a moment, then strengthened to its original hue.

“Did you accept money from these women with the understanding that they were purchasing this, ahem, thriving enterprise from you?” Bob asked.

“No.”

The stone flared into bright red, casting an unhealthy hue across the crowd, who gasped.

“I’m sorry, Earl,” Bob said while looking at the glowing stone. “Would you care to restate your answer?”

“I said no, you pompous bastard!” Earl bellowed. “I never took no money from those whores!”

The stone grew brighter, a thin tendril of black smoke appearing and curling slowly towards the distant ceiling.

“What did I say about your potty mouth?” Tink asked. She put a boot on Earl’s chin and stepped up. She made a few carefully balanced hops, rapping Earls skull on the floor repeatedly.

Sam watched the strange interplay until Earl’s eyes began to cross, then pulled Tink from her new favorite game.

“You have one more chance to make that stone turn blue,” she told him. “Then I turn her loose and walk away.”

“Okay, okay.” Earl said with a resigned sigh. “I took money from them.”

The stone turned blue.

“What was the money for?” Bob asked.

“They were buying an interest in the bar.”

“How much of an interest?”

“Half,” Earl stated, his face red from the prolonged inversion. “Will you turn me up, please? My head is pounding.”

Sam turned to face Stella, who had been watching silently.

“What were the terms?” she asked

“We keep what we make, he keeps the take from the bar.” Stella answered.

“That sounds fair, Earl,” Sam offered as she faced the barkeep once again. “Why didn’t you follow through with the agreement?”

“Because my customers don’t come in here for the drinks,” Earl spluttered. “I couldn’t make any kind of a living from just that.”

“You could if you would quit giving the drinks away for free!” one of the assembled girls shouted.

“And us!” shouted another.

Sam rested a casual hand on Earl’s foot.

“Is that true?” she asked.

Earl did not answer, his lips pursing together once again. Sam began a slow push and Earl's head began to creep towards the floor.

“Yes!” he blurted, and the truth stone flared once again to bright blue.

“How much did they give you?” Bob asked

“Five hundred gold pieces.”

Bob glanced at the stone and confirmed that its color remained blue.

Sam turned back towards Stella.

“How much have you saved up since then?”

Stella motioned to the other women and they all gathered into a quietly murmuring circle. After a few minutes, Stella emerged from the group.

“We have another two hundred and fifty.” She said

“WHAT?” roared Earl. “I knew you were holding out on me! That’s my money! You lied….”

He fell silent as Sam once again bounced his head against the floor. The voice trailed away as Earl faded from consciousness.

“Gods, the man is loud,” Sam said as she took a pouch from her belt and tossed it to Tink. “Count that up, would you Tink?”

“What are you doing?” Stella asked Sam in a whisper.

Sam held up a finger, but did not answer. Tink’s nimble fingers poured the coins onto the table and rapidly counted them into stacks.

“A little over two hundred,” Tink announced when all of the coins were in stacks.

“Damn,” muttered Sam with a scowl.

Bob strode to Sam’s side. She looked at him quizzically.

“Halves?” he asked.

Sam beamed a smile at him, eliciting a flush in the man’s face.

“Deal!” she said and held out a hand. Bob shook it with great ceremony, returning the smile shyly.

Sam released her clasp on the magicians hand and turned to Stella.

“Get your savings and bring it here,” She ordered. “Tink, count out a hundred and twenty-five gold.”

Bob took a pouch from his cloak and poured coins into his hand. He added stack after stack to Tink’s collection.

Stella returned to the table carrying a wooden box. She stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the piles of coin on the table.

“What are you people doing?” she asked again.

“Tink, put our two-fifty in the box,” Sam said as she strode to the still inverted Earl. She grasped the Truth Stone from the air and handed it back to Bob. She slowly spun the barkeep back to an upright position. She slapped him awake, and his face paled as the blood rushed from his head.

“Earl,” Sam began in a formal tone, “We are buying out your remaining half of this bar.”

Earl forced his eyes open from a pained squint and glared at Sam.

“What if I’m not interested in selling my half?”

“Then we stay here and Tink gets to play ‘Spin the Barkeep’ for as long as she finds it funny.”

Tink took hold of a foot and gave it a few swings to get momentum.

“That could take a while, tubby,” Tink said. “It gets funnier every time I see it.”

“You know,” Earl mused, “I have always longed for the peaceful life of a farmer. A thousand in gold should get me a good piece of land some seed. Maybe some livestock.”

“You are a surprisingly wise man, Earl.” Bob said with a wave of his hand. Earl dropped suddenly to the ground. He staggered a moment before finding his balance. Bob strode rapidly to his side and placed a steadying arm about his shoulders.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, “I present to you Earl Futzwaggle: Farmer!”

A smattering of unenthusiastic clapping came from a dark corner , but it quickly died an embarrassed death.

Bob released Earl and gestured grandly towards the assembled ladies.

“And I also present the new owners of The Fanciful Filly!”

The applause was more enthusiastic from the ladies, punctuated by squeals of delight.

“Gentlemen,” Sam addressed the patrons of the bar, “Although this has been a fun evening, we are sorry to say that we will be closing early tonight. The new owners have much to discuss. So please finish your drinks and leave as soon as possible.”

The offer to finish the drinks went unheeded and a crowd gathered at the open door as they all tried to be the first ones out. The last one to leave was Earl, who stood in the doorway holding the wooden box. He cast a long look over his former business. His eyes finally rested on Sam, standing in the front of the gathered ladies.

“Earl, you can come back for anything of yours without fear.” Sam said. “But if you come back and try to make trouble, I’m going to end it one way or another.”

She tapped her palm on the hilt of her sword meaningfully.

Earl held her gaze for a long time, a curious expression on his face. He seemed to come to a resolution to some inner conflict, then spoke.

“You could have done this a lot different.” He said. “You were fair to me when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t quite understand it, but I am grateful.”

He looked to Bob and Tink.

“You’re good people.” His gaze took in the assembled ladies who were listening in astonishment. “You are all good people.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out the door. Stella moved forward and dropped a crossbeam into place locking the door, and turned to face them.

“You did it!” Stella cried, beaming. “I can’t believe you actually did it! I never thought we would be treated fairly, let alone own the place!”

A cheer went up from the ladies, followed by relieved laughter and tears of joy. One maiden went behind the bar and started filling tankards and lining them up on the bar. They were handed from person to person until everyone had a drink.

“A toast!” Stella called over the excited din. “A toast to our savior and new boss, Samantha!”

“Wait!” yelled Sam. “I’m not the…”

Her voice was drowned out by the renewed cheers from the ladies. When they all paused to take a drink, she tried again.

“I’m not your boss!”

There were gasps of surprise from the crowd.

“I’m only part owner,” she said. “You ladies have the largest share.”

“But you are the one that made this possible,” a voice called from the crowd.

“That doesn’t mean that I want to run a bar,” Sam said.

“Then why did you put your money in?” Stella asked, confusion creasing her brow.

“Mostly to help you ladies out,” Sam explained. “But also so I would always have a place to come to that has a good roof, a warm bed and good friends. And maybe a little spending money if things got tight.”

“Ahem,” Bob theatrically cleared his throat to get attention. “As for my part, I was hoping for a space that I could use as a laboratory, and place for my magical experiments. If I had that, and a good tavern with good company, I would feel my investment was paying off nicely.”

There were quiet murmurs amongst the ladies and they attempted to make sense of this new development.

“How were you planning to run the place before I showed up?” Sam asked.

“We were going to have a committee,” Stella explained. “We would elect a chairwoman to make the day to day operating decisions, with the major ones being voted on by the staff.”

“That sounds like a reasonable method,” Bob commented, nodding. “All those in favor, raise a hand.”

Bob scanned the sea of faces and raised hands and came to a swift judgment.

“Looks like a sizable majority, committee rule it is.” Bob announced. “Now, we need to elect the chairwoman. As my presence cannot be relied upon, I ask that I not be considered for the post.”

“Don’t consider me for the same reason,” Sam offered.

“Same here,” Tink chimed in.

A timid voice emerged from the congregation.

“I think Stella should do it.”

“Yeah, she’s the one that organized us into saving up the money in the first place,” agreed another.

“We have a nomination for Stella,” Bob intoned. “Any other nominations?”

Silence reigned for several minutes before Bob spoke again.

“In the absence of any other nominations, I proclaim Stella the Chairwoman!”

Silence gave way to an explosion of renewed cheers. Stella stood in the center of it all, blushing furiously.

After several minutes of congratulatory hugs and refilled tankards, Stella held up her hands for silence.

“First order of business,” She said. “Do we change the name or leave it as is?”

“Change it!” cried many women. One gruff female voice emerged from the confusion.

“I’ve never been all that fanciful, and I once knocked a man out for comparing me to a horse. I always hated the name Fanciful Filly.”

“We are now open for suggestions for a new name for our new bar!” Stella said with a smile.

A short blond near the front called out in a surprisingly high voice.

“The Handsome Mage!”

The girl turned red as all eyes focused on her. Bob smiled uncomfortably.

“The Feisty Fairy!” called another voice.

“Oh yeah!” Tink cried with delight. “I like that one… except make it The Feisty Elf!”

“I got one,” said another voice. “Our Barbarian Savior.”

“That sounds like a church, not a bar.” Sam said with a smile. “Keep trying.”

A collective "hmm" went up from the crowd as they all tried to come up with a suitable name.

“We need to find a name that fits, something that tells people what kind of place this is.” Stella said. “And maybe something that honors these three that made it possible.”

“The Chain Mail Bikini,” said Bob softly.

All faces turned to look at Sam. Instinct caused her to glance behind her. In uncharacteristic self consciousness, she blushed.

“THE CHAINMAIL BIKINI!” The crowd roared as one voice. Tankards were lifted high into the air in salute, then drained of their contents.

“That settles it!” Stella announced. “The name is decided, and from now on, we are the Ladies of the Chain Mail Bikini!”

“That one sounds like a convent,” Sam murmured to Bob.

“Perhaps I should find religion,” he returned. “Sorry. It was the only thing that I could think of at the moment."

“You’ve been thinking about that particular chain mail bikini for quite a while now, I think,” Tink said with a smirk. Bob aimed a slow kick at her tiny backside, but she scurried away towards the bar for a refill.

Bob turned a red face towards Samantha.

“Yes, well…” he started.

“I’m honored,” Sam said and stood on tiptoe to place a kiss upon the magician’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Well, yes…” Bob stammered. “You are quite welcome, milady. He bowed deeply.

Sam beamed another smile at him and walked to the bar for a refill. She was still smiling when she glanced back at the still staring mage.

hahaha hier de eesrte foto's  :-) ;-)

"I was a river once, flowing from Hades. All who drank from me, washed away their memories to begin life anew," she said. "No one could enter the Elysium fields of after-life without drinking my waters." She waited, gauging my reaction. I did not know what sort of a reaction she expected from me, so I looked away from her and into the fire. The sound of a lone horse carriage on the cobbled street outside filled our room. I could hear her breathe, and felt her eyes on me. She continued -

"No one stayed on my banks for too long, for they were all in search of something on the other side of me. No one came back to me after they drink from me. How could they? No one remembered me, for I am the river of forgetfulness. I've been searching for a companion. I flowed, melancholic, searching for happiness in the arms of many lovers. But every time I met someone, he forgot me the next day."

She stopped. Maybe she finally caught the look of disbelief on my face that I was trying to hide. "You don't believe me. I should not have wasted my time telling you my story," she said sounding quite disappointed. "I've heard some wild stories from many places Lethe. I've spun many wild tales too. But really, how do you expect me to believe this. You jest of course."

She laughed and said, "I almost fooled you there for a while, did I not?" But there was something awkward in the way she said this. She sounded like she was trying to save face after a folly. And I felt sort of bad that I did not, nay, I could not believe her. "Come, come, the night is still young. What does it matter where I am from or why I am here? Let us make love till the morning light," she said. She swayed her hips as she walked slowly towards me. We kissed and made love again.

Something had changed in her after she tried to tell me her story. I could feel that her heart was not in it anymore. Maybe I should have acted like I believed her. But what was done was done. We stopped making love and lay away from each other. I drifted off to sleep eventually.

4.

I woke up the next day alone in bed, she was gone. I could not remember her or what had transpired the previous night. I attributed my lack of memory of the previous night to the absinthe I had probably drunk at The Oneiros. The inn-keeper came up to the room and told me that I had to leave or pay for additional stay. She was a stocky matronly woman. Probably French, I thought, as I took out my bag of coins, which as usual felt lighter than the last time I took it out. "You do not have to pay for last night. The lady has paid for the night. You may leave, or pay me if you choose to stay," she said in her deep, almost male baritone voice.

"Which lady? Where am I?"

She looked at me as if I had lost my marbles. And then she said coldly, "I do not have time for this. The lady you were with last night, she paid for the room. And this place, if you haven't noticed, is an inn, and I am the inn-keeper."

"This lady, what did she look like?" I asked her, confused. She glared at me. I did not ask her anything more. I went to The Oneiros. There were no customers in yet. They usually came later in the evening.

"A bit early for a drink tonight, don't you think?" Grischa asked, placing a pint of ale in front of me. I smiled and took a sip. "Never too early for a pint of your ale Grischa."

"How was she, your lady friend from last night?" he asked me. I asked him what she looked like, telling him that I was too drunk to remember. He told me that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And that he could not for the life of him understand why she chose a drunkard like me for the night.

I left The Oneiros troubled. It was only when I reached home that I noticed a piece of cloth in my coat pocket. It was emerald colored silk, and smelled of long forgotten flowers and freshly cut grass. Slowly, my memory of her came back. I could remember everything.

The memory of that one night changed me. I do not believe her story, for how could I remember her if she was who she said she was. But I longed to see her again. At night, I could feel her next to me sometimes. I remembered the words she'd said - 'I flowed, melancholic, searching for happiness in the arms of many lovers.' I realized that all my life, I had been searching for happiness in all the wrong places. And that so far, I had gained nothing.

I could not find any real reason to explain why she chose to spend the night with me. Maybe she felt she'd met a kindred spirit. Because she had been afraid of something, and it was evident that she was running from something too. And so far, I'd been running away from everything, drowning my past in vices, trying to forget so much of what happened to me. And even if she was really was who she said was, I knew I couldn't forget her. How can you not remember the very things that lets you forget all else? When I was young, I was a fool. And then I realized that there is no such thing as happiness, just lesser shades of melancholy.


The gist of the article is captured in this quote: "Many [readers captivated by Lewis's storytelling] forget that magic, divination and astrology -- both real and imagined -- clash with God's Word."

Unfortunately, this article was not posted on a blog, allowing for comment. I was able to find an email address, however, and this was my reaction:

Hi, [author's name]

I read your article about Prince Caspian. I applaud your desire to read with discernment. Our culture, including the church, seems to be moving away from analytical thinking.

Unfortunately, I think your knowledge of Greek myths and undue literalism may be coloring your judgment.

Fantasy literature is very different from the realism of literary or other genre fiction. The fantasy world is one of the author’s imagination. Therefore, if Mr. Lewis wants the Creator-Lion’s power to be called magic, it does not mean he is ascribing to a belief in the “magic”—demonic power—of this world. When he brings in Bacchus as a character, there is no reason to assume Lewis was putting a stamp of approval on debauchery and madness. Rather, his implication is the redemption of the world.

In Surprised by Joy, Mr. Lewis’s non-fiction work recounting his coming to faith, he states plainly the tipping point was when he realized that the Christian story is actually the True myth. In his thinking, knowing that Christ did die on the cross and did rise from the dead, redeemed all myth, for he found in those pagan stories the echo of truth, the yearning after that which they did not know.

Of course, I have no way of knowing at this point how the movie will portray Mr. Lewis’s story, but the Narnia books, in my opinion, do a remarkable job shining light on Christ—the Creator-King, the Lion of Judah, the suffering Savior, the all powerful Friend, and so much more.

This, in my view, is the best kind of fantasy. The parts of the made up world are not to be understood literally or even allegorically. Rather, the stories are more reminiscent of parables. Even Jesus used an unjust judge in one of his stories to teach something about God.

Perhaps if you could set aside what you know about Bacchus or magic or witches, and read the story that Mr. Lewis wrote instead, you might see why so many Christians celebrate his fiction and desire to write like him.

No surprise, I haven't heard back from the author. I suspect my line about the stories coming from his imagination didn't win any points. She has a link (which I didn't read) to an article (or articles?) about imagination. It's associated with the reader's imagination, so I didn't think at the time it was relevant, but then, I don't think I fully grasp the point from which arguments against fantasy come.

The Forbidden Kingdom is a lite martial arts film.

This family-style kung fu story gets a 7.

I was all excited when I saw that Jet Li and Jackie Chan were going to be in the same movie. The advertisements on tv left out the small detail that it’s the story of a young man in Boston who loves martial arts movies and gets magically transported to ancient China to deliver a magic staff to the Monkey King. Fortunately, most of my apprehension was for naught. The dorky boy from Boston story line did not dominate the movie but dragged it down a bit. Of course, he had no kung fu skills and had to be taught by Jackie Chan, who reprised his Legend of Drunken Master role a bit. Only about 15 minutes of the whole movie were set in Boston so the pain isn’t too bad.

The plot is pretty reasonable. In order to defeat the immortal commander of the Jade Army, the Monkey King needs his magical staff returned from Boston so that the spell that has turned him into stone may be broken. The acting was pretty decent but not memorable. Jackie Chan is his typical funny goofball self but toned down a bit. Jet Li is very serious as a monk. The temple fight between Chan and Li was pretty good but not over the top. I think they tried to make it too mainstream and family friendly.

The costumes were very nice as was the scenery. It was not a low budget film. The opening scene with the Monkey King fighting the Jade Army on stone spires in the clouds was a nice touch. I also enjoyed the malevolent presence of the White Witch and her whip-action hair. Ok, so I do have a soft spot for good looking, intelligent, evil women. Send them my way.

This movie is only PG-13 and is ok for children and dates who aren’t real martial arts fans. If you want some awesome martial arts in a big budget format, check out Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, House of Flying Daggers, Hero, Royal Warriors (not big budget, Michelle Yeoh – Crouching Tiger), and the Kill Bill movies (not really martial arts per se but waay cool).

Previous parts (1) (2) (3) (4)

The Fires of Home

Daulis strode through the sands with great authority, at least until he was out of sight of the Belurian. Then he stopped and rested, eating and drinking. He was weaker than he thought he should be. Oh well, he had the strength to get home, and once he got there, he would be welcomed: not only did he survive the Wastelands, but he also got the information he was sent out for. He had proven that he was the One.

He journeyed easily, not having any trouble, and reached Pedar at noon on the third day. The same forbidden corridor he had stood on to bid his home farewell was just ahead of him. There would be many questions when he entered the village. He had rehearsed all the answers to all the questions he could imagine, chanting them to himself so he would not forget the wittier parts.

He turned and studied the sand behind him, out of habit now. Ten days in the Wastelands had changed his manner completely. He did not believe what he saw. Gatie was walking gently across the sand as if trying not to be noticed. She had followed him and he had not sensed her. So much for his growing sensitivity to the world around him.

He walked to her, angered more by his inattentiveness than her determination. "Gatie, why have you come with me? I do not wish to have to explain you to my village. I do not want to spend any more time in your presence, or that of any Belurian."

"I only made sure that you returned home safely. I don't wish to go into your village or get anything else from you." Her words were as soft as her footsteps had been. She looked expectantly at him and when he did not move, she said, "Well, go. I will remain until I am sure you are safe, and then I will go."

Daulis shook his head, making her words fall back out of his ears. He began walking up the ridge, having completely forgotten all of his clever responses to the inevitable questions. The wind whipped over the sand and into his face. He smelled the cooking fires of home. They were stronger than when he left, there must have been a very successful hunt.

He could not wait for the feast, which must surely be named in his honor, he could not wait to see his family again, he could not wait to see his home again. He would not get to. The village lay in ruins, smoldering and bloody. The wail which came from Daulis' mouth told Gatie the whole story. The Black Shells had come to Pedar.

Daulis wandered through the remains of his home, shocked and mumbling. He went first to his father's house. There was nothing standing but stones. No traces of anyone or anything could be found. He was not sure if he was thankful for the lack of bodies, but Gatie was.

Gatie knew Daulis needed something, anything that had had significance to his family. As he stood in anguished silence waiting for the pain to strike him down, Gatie concentrated and waited for resonance. Any item invested with love of the recent residents of the house would still hold echoes of their lives. She emptied her consciousness of her senses and waited. After an eternal moment, a shiver slipped into her awareness. Letting the life lead her she stepped, blindly and began moving rubble she did not see. When she found nothing but the dirt floor, she was again suddenly aware of the physical world. Daulis stood next to her watching in amazement.

"Gatie, it is no use, even I can feel that this place holds nothing but death. I can smell it and taste it when I breathe, see it, feel it radiating up from the ground, desecrated and disgraced. I hear it in the silence." Life was draining out of him from the sheer horror of this place where he had once known happiness.

Her senses had brought her to this spot in the house, above all others. It had to be here. She did not even know what it was but finding it was all she could do. She started digging with her bare hands, ripping at the hardened soil futilely.

"Stop it, stop it!"

He was trying to pull her up into his arms, but she resisted, saying, "This is where it is. This is where it should be. Help me find it. Please!" Like a fever, she needed the source of the tiny life tremor more than she had needed anything she had ever needed. Daulis gave in and found a scoop shaped piece of stone and began digging the hole she had started. Not far down, he struck a small box. Gatie was calmed by the sight of it. Daulis pried it open with his knife and extracted a small book. On its cover was an inscription Gatie could not read, but the image below the words was familiar to her. It was her ancestor Priniti and his Alurian friend Wellat. A book with the same image had been buried in her father's house as well.

Daulis stared in wonder at the book. "How did you know it was there?" he asked in amazement.

"Someone close to you loved it, treasured it," she answered without noticing, her attention on the book. She reached out and took it from him, opening its cover and flipping through the leaves, recognizing many names. "Is this a translation of the Book of All Things?"

Daulis looked at it over her shoulder, squatting behind her as she knelt in the dirt. "Yes, that is the Book of All Things, but not a copy I have ever seen before. How do you know about the Book of All Things? It is an accumulation of Alurian knowledge and prophesies. Most Alurians have never seen it let alone showed it to any Belurians?"

"You still don't believe me about Vvadana and our peoples being one? Look here." She flipped back to the first page, which had an inscription in both of their languages. Reading aloud she spoke, "This copy of the Book of All Things returned to the family of Saloot ip Vvadana by Notan ip Vvadana from whence it was taken by the false prophet, Catarian. The book having originally been given to Wellat, ancestor of Bepante Daulis ip Vvadana ip Saloot ip Setena ip Vvadana by Priniti, ancestor of Apante Gatie ip Zar ip Notan ip Kapria ip Vvadana, who wished to bring the peoples together again under the peaceful ways of Vvadana. This section seems not to be part of the formal statement, 'For my friend and destined brother Saloot. May these prophesies bring our families, peoples, and planet together. May they heal the rejection of our Mother Vvadana and bring the destruction of our true enemies. Notan.'"

As she read, all that they had lost came to the front of their hearts and his arms had folded around her. He knelt behind her, reading along in the language so recently revealed to him. When she finished his forehead rested lightly against her left shoulder. Renewed tears were threatening. The book forgotten, in the dirt, she pulled those arms tighter around her. They rocked slowly back and forth.

The dusk winds that whipped through the corridors of the village were rising. Gatie left Daulis there in his father's house, still rocking in silent, kinetic grief. She gathered what little provisions she could from the village: roots, seeds and squinkies, a new spear for Daulis and some extra cloaks. Then she set them aside and felt around with her spirit for any remaining ritual items. They needed any and all ways to help focus life. Daulis' father had not done anything to prepare him for his mission, even though Saloot had full knowledge of what Daulis would face. Perhaps he never really believed his son to be the One or maybe he thought they had more time.

She felt a strong pull down to a little cavern set in the exact center of the village. The doors reared up in front of her. She felt the cold stone slab beneath her hands. It seemed impossible for her to move them in her present, depleted state. Depleted. She slid down to a sitting position. She slept.

Daulis barely noticed her leaving. His world was numb. It was pitch when he finally thought to rise and look for her, his makeshift torch having burned out. He wandered through the village, stumbling on ruins, and found his way to the meeting place of the council. Gatie lay sleeping before its great doors. He bent to waken her, but pulled back as he reached for her face. The Sckrimmel Blades were in there, if the plunderers had not taken them. The prophecy said the One needed them for his journey. He rose again and slipped around the hall to the crack near the roof where he had slipped in those few days ago when he was a boy. He disturbed the blades from their resting places for the second time in a hundred generations.

When Gatie awoke, they were on the ridge of sand outside the entrance to the village. Daulis was laying, half buried in the sand, arms propping his head up, with his families copy of the Book of All Things open before him. The gentle morning winds were blowing over him and pulling at the pages of the sacred text. Hearing her stir, he looked up and asked, "What now, Apante?"

"I don't know. We are the only ones left, I can't see how we can fulfill the prophecies when we have no one and nothing left." The death she had seen and her own grief held her down as surely as the Black Shell shackles had. Somehow, Daulis did not hear her despair.

"I was reading the prophecies about us and I came upon a passage that I cannot understand. I think it might be in another language, not related to any we know. Do you know where I'm referring to?" In a few short hours Daulis had come to accept not only that all the prophecies were true, but that they were the Apante and Bepante who were to fulfill them. To him reading the prophecies was like remembering a dream he had once had, long ago and far away. He knew their truth in his very depths. He was now going about the business of preparing to be a hero for two peoples dead and gone. He did not know where he had found the strength to stop crying, let alone to prepare himself for this journey, but somehow he had.

artemis fowl files; warriors outcast; chaos dekker lost books

That's right...all next week our friends over at Deadly Viper will be talking about SEX and it's going to be pretty hot!  They have said "no topic too hot or too steamy" so get ready to ask your questions, so they can answer them.

You've got to hand it to them, they're tackling some of the toughest, most taboo, questions out there in the Christian world and I'm proud of them for taking on this topic.  The church can just continue to battle over this topic and brush it under a rug, or we can meet it head on and actually do some good to help people who are out there struggling with this.

So today I'm giving up some props and link love to Mike Foster, Jud Wilhite, and Anne Jackson.  Way to go and I can't wait for all the Hot Sex...talk, next week!

Up until now I have only been able to theorise how much of your RL goes into a SL relationship - with Midas there was a great connection of someone who listened, talked and was generally fun to be around. Scia on the other hand - it is a lot more intense. Here is someone who I am pretty sure could finish my sentences and is incredibly finely tuned into my thoughts during our travels on the grid. Can that be too good a thing? Or will it all end horribly

Personally I think I would prefer it to just run along and see where it takes us, it is so early and as far as news on the grapevine goes it will not be without its share of grief - not from my background but possibly from his. And as far as RL situations go, there wont be any cause to cross any boundaries that the other does not feel comfortable with - for me, if anything in SL started to have an effect on my RL or my relationship it would be stopped and cut out faster than you can say "A pirate's life for me" *Edit* - Don't get me wrong, I am very very happy in my SL relationship - long may that little excited jump in my tummy when his name pops online continue! I only hope that his continues too*

I want to add a bit to my previous blogs... Pretty much along the lines of the new name of my blog - Is this the Real Life? Or is this just Fantasy? How much of your RL can you put into SL without losing the differenciation between the two? And how much of your RL are you expected to share? This is a tough one to answer - unfortunately in today's RL privacy and identity theft and other nasty things can come as a cause of your RL being invaded. Can SL be any different? People give out their mobile numbers, where they live, RL photos - and sometimes fairly early on between two meeting. Is this as a cause of a 3D avatar and the closeness to a life that this presents? Or would two people who met on a forum or a chat room without the presence of the SL interaction do the same?

At the end of it all, your SL is whatever way you want to take it - everyone has their own lives, situations and personalities that shape each relationship you make, whether the SL "family", partnerships or just great friends. It will be interesting as my journey into complete SL assimilation continues to see how these relationships pan out.

Toodles

Lady Kezzy

All'inizio della visione ero attratto dai sottotitoli in italiano dei cinefili, ma poi mi sono reso conto che mi avrebbero distratto troppo dalla visione, quindi li ho tolti. Le scene che mi sono più piaciute, non avendo un televisore con cui apprezzare appieno il film più costoso dei nostri tempi, sono naturalmente quelle in cui c'è Kirsten Dunst. Ma anche il finale mi ha un pò sorpreso, non avendo tanti spoiler su di esso.

Più di due ore di sana distrazione, con un film che sarebbe però vietato ai maggiorenni.

Ten tom ucieszy zarówno zwolenników HP jak i przeciwników. Fani nareszcie wszystkiego się dowiedzą, a przeciwnicy mogą odetchnąć z ulgą, więcej tomów nie będzie. Zwykły czytelnik dodatkowo zastanowi się nad poziomem książki, a to jaki on jest postaram się tutaj opisać. Świat Harrego Pottera nie jest już taki bezpieczny, panuje atmosfera strachu i osaczenia. Sam Harry również nie jest już bezpieczny. Wraz z jego siedemnastymi urodzinami czarodziej uzyskuje pełnoletniość. Niesie to ze sobą poważne konsekwencje, po pierwsze Harry może używać czarów poza szkołą, są też negatywne skutki pełnoletniości. Zaklęcia ochronne rzucone na dom jego rodziny przestają działać, przez co Harry musi zostać ewakuowany. Jednak czarodziej nie ma zamiaru ukrywać się w nieskończoność, musi wypełnić zadanie, które powierzył mu Dumbledor, musi odnaleźć horuksy i je zniszczyć Tak zaczyna się ostatnia przygoda czarodzieja i jego przyjaciół.

Nasi bohaterowie teraz już pełnoletni będą szwendać się po całej Anglii w poszukiwaniu horuksów, insygniów śmierci i odpowiedzi na wszelakie zagadki i tajemnice nie odkryte w poprzednich tomach. Poprzez tyle wątków książka jest rozwlekła i niestety stara się objąć zbyt dużo wątków jak na jeden tom. Część z wątków uważam za niepotrzebną, a część za zbyt rozbudowaną. Niepotrzebnie tak duży nacisk autorka kładzie w niektórych momentach na romanse głównych bohaterów. Jest to o tyle niepotrzebne, że od jakiegoś czasu z góry wiadomo kto z kim będzie, a autorka nie zaskakuje w tej kwestii czytelników. Kwestia poszukiwania horuksów też nie została najlepiej opisana. Przez część książki musiałem się przebijać przez męczący fragment w którym akcja stała niemal w miejscu. Bohaterowie nie wiedzieli gdzie są horuksy, nie wiedzieli co dalej zrobić, a ja się nudziłem. Dodatkowo wymęczył mnie konflikt pomiędzy Harrym, Ronem i Hermioną. Ron i Harry nie odzywali się do siebie i cały czas chodzili wkurzeni, a Hermiona odkryła w sobie emo i co jakiś czas popłakiwała w kącie namiotu. Jak na razie krytykuję, ale ostatecznie uważam „Harrego Pottera i Insygnia Śmierci” za udaną książkę. Kiedy już grupa się pogodzi, Hermiona przestanie płakać akcja nagle zaczyna przyśpieszać, fabuła robi się coraz ciekawsza, aż do wielkiego finału. Zakończenie książki jest bardzo udane. Wszystkie wątki układają się w logiczną całość, każda zagadka otrzymuje rozwiązanie. Dodatkowo finał jest nakreślony z rozmachem i dużym wyczuciem, za co należą się autorce słowa uznania.

Innym dużym plusem książki jest świat w którym przyszło żyć naszym bohaterom. Świat ten zmienił się znacznie w porównaniu do poprzednich tomów.. W siódmym tomie świat ma więcej wspólnego z wizjami Orwella niż z bajkową krainą. Autorka umiejętnie pokazuje, że totalitaryzm czy to w naszym świecie czy w świecie magicznym wiele od siebie się nie różni. Atmosfera zaszczucia, donosy, czy selekcja na lepszych i gorszych. Dodatkowo wprowadzona cenzura i aresztowania niepokornych.

„Harry Potter i Insygnia Śmierci” to książka nierówna i nie pozbawiona wad. Ostatecznie jednak umiejętnie kończy cykl, który towarzyszył czytelnikom już od wielu lat. Fani na pewno będą usatysfakcjonowani zakończeniem sagi. Mam również nadzieję, że ostatni tom Harrego będzie naprawdę ostatnim. Nie chciałbym spotkać się z sytuacją w której będą powstawać kolejne książki w świecie czarodziejów tylko dlatego, że autorka nie będzie miała lepszych pomysłów. Póki co cieszmy się ostatnim tomem i miejmy nadzieje, że w głownie Rowling pełno jest jeszcze świeżych pomysłów.

Ocena: 8/10

I say 'ho!' to you fellow sojourners of the Blue Fox Alley and I claim your attention!

In your eyes, I see a thirst in you. A thirst that cannot be satisfied with your silly groping of women. A thirst that grows while you drown yourself with ale. So perk your ears and listen up! Wake your mate with your best punch! Because when my eloquent P-Meister and I have a lyrical tingle to share with you all, it is something that no man ought to miss.

So what do you think defines a great tale? Is it a great struggle between the forces of light and darkness? An elegy of the clash of two great kingdoms and a forbidden love caught in the midst of it? Here at the Blue Fox Alley, we shall unravel the secret of creating the greatest fantasy story evar!

 Here is how the first stroke of the harp goes...

.The world in the story must have an ancient evil god that threatens the world with the possibility of TOTAL destruction.

.A long time ago, a champion vanquished the evil god and sealed him away in a castle. However with the passing of time, the seal on the evil weakens and he is free once more!

.A hero is chosen by a kingdom, with great GDP and low inflation, to defeat the evil god.

.Hero must have romance with the kingdom's princess.

.Hero will not know of princess' real identity while she mingles with him initially. But she will be forced to reveal it in order to help the hero from a dilemma! The SHOCKU!

.Hero must use a sword.

.Hero must have sword techniques like Whirlwind Blade Technique or Fire Slash or Hundred Blades.

.There be magic and elements to make the story cool.

.The hero will embark on a journey with a group of comrades. An archer, a mage and a rouge are a MUST.

.Hero will have an evil elder brother who is always in his way. And the evil elder brother must always wear black and have a stupid smirk on his super bishie face so fans will want to have his babies. 

.Evil elder brother turns out to be actually a GOOD GUY and all his evil deeds were for the sake of 'protecting his brother'. Excellent plot twist deserving of praises that shall last for an eternity.

.Hero must have a rival who will save him when faced with the great danger because 'only he is allowed to defeat the hero'.

.Have dragons in the story.

.Have +5 enchanted weapons.

.There will be an episode at the beach.

.A wise old man will guide the hero. His name will probably be Gendou.com Gendoulf.

.There will be the obligatory betrayal scene. But the spy in the group will eventually become the hero's real friend and get him out of the shit which he had caused in the first place. Wonderful friendship in play and the hero will be too stupid to recall that it was the ex-spy who had given him so much trouble initially.

.Wise old man Gendoulf will sacrifice his life to save the hero when a tough boss appears. With the loss of his mentor, the hero lvls up turns his anguish into strength and wins the tough boss.

.Dying, Gendoulf entrusts his powerful sword, Excharibaa, to the hero. And the hero will scream 'I WILL INHERIT YOUR WILL!!!'

.Hero gets final weapon of the story and forgets about Excharibaa.

.Princess is kidnapped by the Dark Champion of the evil god.

.Dark Champion is actually the hero's father and the fallen hero who once defeated the evil god. The SHOCKU and the DRAMA. Excellent plot twist.

.Hero refuses to fight his father but ends up doing so anyway.

.Final boss Evil god resides in a castle with dark clouds looming over it.

.Hero defeats the evil god with the help of his father who becomes GOOD again. Peace is restored once again.

.Oh yeah. The hero must have a hearty comrade who is planning to get married when he returns to his hometown. Dies in battle after charging into battle like Leeroy Jenkins. Very sad and dramatic because he was supposed to get married. Excellent drama.

.A bad plot hole which suggests that the animated version of the story could have just been 20 episodes instead of 54 episodes. But people still like it because the evil elder brother is SOOOO cool. So the glaring flaws are pardoned because the fans prefer to talk about their favourite characters.

I think the P-Meister and I are on our way towards creating the greatest tale ever told!!! This, my friend, is the -FINALE OF FANTASY PROJECT-. Stay tuned for more updates!

So what do you think must be in a fantasy story to make it great?

Author Stephen King plays a game called, "You're the Warmest, Fluffiest, Most Unthreatening Friend Ever." Three questions about nice things to ask the man who has scared us out of our wits for decades. 

I think it's one of King's best appearances.  Here's the clip: Stephen King on Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me.   

A large screen opens when "Thumbnail image" is clicked.

＜Use software＞
Photoshop ・ Paintshop
＜Production environment＞
Mac OS

Copyright（C）T-KONI . All Rights Reserved.

------------------------------------

＜Free material＞ It is possible to use it free of charge.
T-KONI`s"Paper book jacket design"
It is possible to use it free of charge.
「Download site of "Paper book jacket"」
「How to make "Paper book jacket"」

A large screen opens when "Thumbnail image" is clicked.

＜Use painting materials＞
「Acrylic color ・ Transparent watercolor」

Copyright（C）T-KONI . All Rights Reserved.

------------------------------------

＜Free material＞ It is possible to use it free of charge.
T-KONI`s"Paper book jacket design"
It is possible to use it free of charge.
「Download site of "Paper book jacket"」
「How to make "Paper book jacket"」

A large screen opens when "Thumbnail image" is clicked.

＜Use painting materials＞
「Watercolor colored pencil　・ Oily colored pencil」
＜Production technique＞
Round stroke method

Copyright（C）T-KONI . All Rights Reserved.

------------------------------------

＜Free material＞ It is possible to use it free of charge.
T-KONI`s"Paper book jacket design"
It is possible to use it free of charge.
「Download site of "Paper book jacket"」
「How to make "Paper book jacket"」

Age of conan is MMORPG yet it allows you to play alone or with other players online. At night the game is single player experience and you can switch between single player and multiplayer by sleeping in the inn, although this is limited to the playing experience at tortage with 20 levels. After 20 levels, player is allowed to leave island and travel through a completely new environment which is dynamic as players can form guilds (player groups/organizations), conquer territories owned by others and even erect cities.

Age of conan is real-time combat system which is swift and provides an enriching experience as there is no click and wait. Characters are created online via user account, once created; characters will not be available on other servers, However Funcom is planning to provide character transfer procedure after the launch of the game. While creating online characters, there are three races available to choose which form the base of your character. Later on there might be more races to choose from.

The game director of Age of Conan Gaute Godager of Funcom says “We call the engine Real Combat, and it is based on six directions, or ways, of attacking an opponent with a sword. First, you can hack down against the head. Second, you can slash diagonally down from the right, while the third is slashing the same way from the left. Fourth, you can thrust against the torso. Fifth, you can slash diagonally up from the left, and sixth, you can slash diagonally up from the right. The point here is that these directions lend themselves naturally to being strung together in combinations. These combos unlock additional damage and faster combat, if done well.”

Indirizzo: Via Merighi 2, 26029 Soncino (CR)

E-mail:sheyraen[at]latanadeldragofumante.it
Telefono: 0523.318015 (Antonia Romagnoli)
Cellulare: 346.2390197 (solo pomeriggio)
Internet
Sezione A
Sezione unica: Racconti
Tema: fantasy – dark fantasy – fantastici
Copie: 1 copia via e-mail
Lunghezza: lunghezza massima 500 parole
Premi:
Per tutti i finalisti attestato, pubblicazione in antologia e copia della stessa, per i primi tre classificati premio in libri
Premiazione:
21 Settembre 2008 Presso il pub La Tana del Drago Fumante, a Soncino, in occasione dell’evento fantasy Bardica 2008Notizie sui risultati: notifica via mail, pubblicazione della rosa dei finalisti sul sito del concorso, su riviste di genere e in vari forum

Giuria: Luca Azzolini (Giornalista della rivista FantasyMagazine), Chiara Guidarini (Autrice dei romanzi fantasy, L’Ultima Profezia e Canto Proibito), Solange Mela (Autrice, redattrice ed editor della Edizioni Domino), Antonia Romagnoli (Autrice dei romanzi fantasy Il Segreto dell’Alchimista e La Magica Terra di Slupp) Fabrizio Valenza (Autore della saga fantasy Storia di Geshwa Olers)

Con il patrocinio di: Domino Edizioni
http://www.latanadeldragofumante.it/500gocce/home500.html

Sonia

Count Dracula was once an ardent defender of Christianity but lost his faith when his love decided to kill herself and he feels guilty for her death. Thus to feel better he wanders aimlessly sucking the blood of others to quench his thirst. As a player you will travel through a rich variety of decors and locations as you hunt; a hunt full of leaps and bounds that will take you throughout Europe, to London and to Transylvania via Vienna and with a breathtaking stop in Egypt. Plunge into a Gothic adventure, where everyone’s every move is driven by the horror of blood and the longing for Eternal Love. Supported by a sound track quite terrifying, the player is forever propelled towards more suspense and horror preparing to take part in the struggle between two conceptions of the world: chaos and order, fantasy and reality.

1.First step will be to download the latest version of the Epsxe emulator software off the epsxe website..
, after the download is complete, wait your not done yet...the epsxe software does not contain the files that actually run the software.
2.Install the software or just simply copy and paste the installation files into the desired folder if provided..
3. Left click the epsxe icon, choose properties, click Find target, now you are in the folder that you installed the epsxe software in..
4. open up the plugins folder where you will find a file named removeme.me...delete this file. Plugins are the files that help the software run in all aspects including graphics, sounds plus loading the game Cd or mounting the game file.
In order To start using the software you require the following three plugins with extension .dll
(1). plugin for graphics (opengl,etc)--gnupeteopengl2.dll works on mine
(2). plugin for sound (realtek soundcard,etc)--spuPeopsDsound.dll works on mine
(3).plugin for CDdrive -for CD drive--cdrpeops.dll works on mine

To download plugin files go to www.ngemu.com/psx/epsxe.php?action=plugins
just copy and paste the plugin files in the folder plugin (present in the epsxe installed folder)

5. Hold it right there you are still not done...now you require the most important file called the bios.
go to the folder where you installed the epsxe emu software open up the folder bios then delete the file there with in called eraseme.me
bios file file that i use is schp1001 and this is the file mostly used all over the world.
To download the the bios file go to Aldotools.com, type in the name of the file i.e schp1001.bin..Remember the extension is bin or it wont work..
download the file off the site in the folder "bios" or just copy and paste the file...
6. Double click the epsxe icon, click CONFIG..click video to configure the video plugin (graphics plugin), Click sound to configure the sound plugin, Click CdrRom to configure the CD drive plugin to specify the drive that you want to load the CD or mount the game file in and then Click Bios to configure the Bios file...
7. epsxe emulator only runs ps1 games...which need to be in the cd burn format (extension) i.e .iso or nrg
8.To mount the .iso or the nrg files download the Demon tools ...after the load or mount is complete. (in the drive configured)
9.Double click the epsxe icon click file then click cd rom....NOW YOU ARE DONE...