Captured 1.2

Water. A relatively simple thing. We all need it to survive. Most things we eat have some in it. Heck, our bodies are made up mostly of the stuff. But out here in space, aboard this modified war cruiser, I find my self craving water the most. Oh, don't get me wrong, the Einherjar's water gen-replicators produce enough of it, but it's just not the same. Got a tin like tinge to it and it makes my skin itch. Anyways, I'll post more soon Dad. My departure for planetside is in a few days and I've got to start researching the data logs on the indigenous life forms there. They assigned me to observe negotiations with the Skefs and I've got to brush up on the "do's and don'ts" of dealing with phermonial reptilian flying things. Hope to be home soon. Miss you.

ISMQ : Session closed
Pather : Jackson, Ertimus
Status : Citizen Active Register
Option : SEND
Postage : 525 e.creds

Sometimes the mailQue is my own little private therapy time. Takes my mind away from this twenty foot by thirty foot cell they call a civi-nook. Can't wait to see the accommodations planetside.

A beeping at my door quickly ends today's session.

"Come on in".

Colonel Ramses dips his way through the door way. For a man in his mid seventies, the Colonel is in Olympian form. At least six and half feet tall and coconuts for shoulders. I would guess his weight near two hundred and thirty with at least five pounds coming from his moustache alone.

"How's Earth finest keeping you son?", he bellows. His voice can't help but boom.

"I could use mayb ..."

"Good, good. Now, Ert my boy ..."

I absolutely loathe being called boy. Almost as much as being interrupted. The sidearm he carries, along with the fact that he could snap me in two, quickly calms the loathing.

" - there's a small side mission, that I would like for you to oversee."

"Sir?"

"One of my top men has gone M.I.A. and I would like for you to cross lines and go looking for him.", his tone was a little bit more tense, if that were possible.

"The Skef contact is one of their local big shots, name of Fennick. You can familiarize yourself with customs and the like on the transport down."

I didn't like where this was heading. "But sir, I'm Citizen Registered. An observer. I'm not qualified for this sort of mission."

"Ert, if you weren't qualified, you wouldn't be on the Einherjar. Now, take a look at this BioGen disk copy. It's the last transmission Archie made before falling off the grid.", he said before exited my civi-nook.

I inserted the mini-disk into my mobile terminal and information began to light up all my screens. I select Datalog and a voice begins:

Datalog open:
I.D. : Lance Corporal, Krundle Archibald A.
Vessel: Einherjar
BioGen Scan: Complete

Day Six, and still no orders on whether or not we engage these prehistoric, bat bug things. The higher ups are under scrutiny to put together a classic meet and great party to present the "human" peace hand shake. It does not bode well with the ole Archibald meter. The Skefs seem well enough, but they're not the only -

The transmission ends with crackling static.

iAl 4.2

Please forgive my absence from blogging for a bit. I've been taking a hard look at some things in my little micro-verse. I'm starting to really get a sense of what it means to be me. Apparently it involves leaving all my distractions behind, all the while making leaps in making something creative and stellar happen.
I've left my precious World of Warcraft and the time sync called Mafia Wars behind to try to better reach my goals. My goals of bringing the world a new "make believe" hero. I've also found this to be more work than what it seems. I have embraced the cold mistress called research and now feel the electric pain of actual brainstorming.
The thing is, I am absolutely loving every minute of it. Everything is a new challenge, a new experience and lastly, a new me. It's fun now, thinking up new things to share with you, or how we humans fight off demonic ferrets who belch pubonic plague mist bubbles.


Kudos to all of you!

A Cleansing of sorts ...

I have to tell you, if I don't release some of this steam, I will begin a rampage of shooting people in the face with a bazooka. (Thank you Mister Cosby.)

People that are all around me have breached my defenses and I can't seem to plug the hole. Have manners totally left Earth, or did I miss the global message that it is now okay to be rude in every social setting?

Interrupting someone when they are speaking. Since when did that become en vogue? "Imma let you finish.", was the coup de grace. Thanks Mister Kanye. Now even in the most smallest work settings, I have co workers who just cannot live life to it's fullest extent unless they have interrupted me at least six times a day. Sometimes that number has been reached in a single conversation. Tasty!

How about the person who asks a question and talks over your answer? I love them. I want all of them over for a steak dinner.

I'm sorry, just needed a public venue to vent. Carry on with your normal internet surfing and searching for HTML's of cats firing machine guns and the like.

Well well well, mobile blogging.

Captured

Day six of the infestation from the stars. The growing numbers of outanders seems to grow by the day with no end in sight. Local government says to stay calm and when applicable, be courteous and hospitable. I doubt that this "invasion" sized army of "explorers" is anything but searching. The technology they posses seems rugged and deathly. One could surmise that our flesh could withstand an attack, but I doubt our wings could.

"Surgeon Witsu?" a soft, deep voice calls from just outside my study chambers.

End journal entry:
Psionic encrypt code : Luna Skall
Path : Ballistic
Vessel: Wistu Fennick

"Medna, please do not call me that. Witsu, Fenn Wits, or even Wit-nnick is better than "surgeon". It has been two tri lunar cycles since that title has been soo erroneously placed on my brow. It is soo ... alien."

Medna's strong build trying to maneuver through all the glass tubatures in my chambers is still amusing to me, though I never willingly tease an old friend. Let alone the next in line for Warrior Expona. Medna's prowess on the battle realms is legend. Legend enough to carry the mantle of the elite battle tasker of all the Soompa Territories. More than that, he is my friend. My life long brother mate.

"Alien?", he offers. "An odd choice of description considering the current affairs. You know, this meeting between us and ... what do they call themselves again? Hulam Eens?".

"Human Beings. From -"

He quickly scoffs,"Not important Surgeon Expona. What is of most paramount importance brother mate, is that we do not, by NO means allow for this open negotiations to continue. They do not come in peaceful tones. Their scent reeks of deceit, anger, greed and violence. They are the harbingers from the young ones tales. They are makers of death Witsu and we are their hosts!"

He plates his words with a warning scent that singes my nasal cavities.

I place my hand on his large shoulder and try my best to calm him and myself down. It doesn't seem to work. I am scared, and for the first time that I can remember, so is he. My wings sends out a high pitched shudder.

He begins to chortle. "Please Mighty Surgeon, do not flutter gas in front of the Hulmian Bens tonight. It makes for bad politics."

"As does your facial hole!", I retort.

We laugh for a short break and than Medna helps me don my Surgeon Robes and sceptre.

The journey towards answers from the Humans starts tonight.

Change of digs!

Well my little slaglings, as do the seasons change such is my blog. The last month or so has brought on monumental changes in my life, on and offline. The embracing of my dreams has become a hunger I can no longer deny.

As a young sapling, I helped my dad on the weekends doing construction, ie: exterior and interior stucco work and the like. Yet this was not and is not the trade I ever wanted to enter. Nineteen years ago, I entered the wheel and tire wholesale business, and never looked back. Smattered betwixt the years, I played congas at a professional level and was considering this as a creative outlet for me. This was not to be.

The one constant in my life from seedling to tree, was my love for the geek arts. I mastered the comic kick from wu dang, the crouching Atari hidden Nintendo system, and I'm proficient in the ancient art of Star Wars foot fist way.

For years I kept this love of Geek-Fu hidden, deep down. But no more! I am fully embracing the tao of my inner fanboy. I have recently started work on a project that will feed my long time love affair with comics, fantasy, anime, on line gaming, and midgets. (Damn! I loves me some midgets!)

You will see the name "Mar.Key Studios" come up more frequently. That's my house of ideas, (along with my pal and awesome artist J.Key) that will pumping out some fantastic works of epic proportions.

I will post updated information of our progress and links to upcoming site. Also, I will post new Blog-Fu short stories here. First up will be a story of a village of the damned and a holy swordsman called, "Boneblade".

Anyhoo, I wanted to keep all my sea monkies of evil informed of the goings on of me and my ... GEEK-FU!

Turning points, off ramps or not ...

Sorry to have shunned you, o' matron saints of the blog world. I have been busy with a new direction in my life. I guess at certain times of ones life, all the planets line up and the heavens sing, the gatekeepers smile and open the long thought forbidden doors. As of lately, I skee-daddled my bulbous tuckus through one of those famed portals and am now four by fouring it on weird and exciting terrain.

I'll have to admit, the uncertainty, albeit exciting, is a bit on the nerve racking side.

I want to scream at you guys on the top of bloggeroo mountain on the details, but until I secure the ins and outs of copyrighting and trademarking and the like, I'm as tight lipped as ... well, you make your damn witty comment.

More likely than not, this will be like command central or a new eblogger site.


Until ... wait, watching Pretty Woman, and Vivian just got the boot out of the snotty shop on Rodeo Drive. Cold.


Until I have a new road map to this new exciting road!


A.