On being three

I’m a little behind on these posts. Life in the kingdom, as everywhere, has been strange of late and the change to my routines in that strangeness took away my normal wiring time. Plus I forgot.  It happens, you know. Then I was reminded and here we are.

…..

Dear Littler Prince,

So this is three?  Wild and amazing and cranky and empathetic and constantly surprising.  The current state of affairs has certainly thrown what little routine you’d grown used to out the window and you just shrugged your shoulders and carried on.  Part of that is having your brother around, of course, but most of that is just who you are.  You take things in stride, come what may.  That doesn’t factor in when you are tired or hungry.  Then the raging tantrums shake the walls and rattle the windows.  That’s all part of it.  Normal.  Expected.  And perfectly fine.

Your laugh, wild like your hair and your exuberance, is perfectly fine as well.  It also shakes the walls and rattles the windows and reverberates with a joy that is nothing short of infectious.  It fills this house and bursts free at the seams.  I hope you laugh that way forever.  I hope your world continues to be so full of things to laugh at.

You took to your scooter the way your older brother took to his bike.  You zoom and swerve and fall and pick yourself back up and zoom off again.  Faster and more fearless with each passing day.  It too is a joy to behold.

Then the tantrums come and you curl your fists up and your eyes well with tears and you scream and scream and scream.  Those will pass, of course.  They always do.  In the moment and in general.  Though, perhaps I’ll miss the times when the solution to those is a hug and a cuddle, or a silly face made in passing, or any of the other little things that can often cheer you up that you will one day outgrow.  The transition will be slow but it has already begun.

I will miss those days more than you… and this isn’t about me, so I’ll move along.

What this all comes down to is you are learning (exponentially), you are growing (like a weed), you are silly (perhaps like a certain Jester), you are crazy (like all of us here) and, to overuse the word, a joy.  It’s as simple as that.

And long may that continue.

Love you kiddo,

Daddy

Matticus

The Jester

Fantasy Football Part 28

Seems like maybe we are getting back  into a routine for writing. Maybe the world around us is starting to return to some semblance of normal? We shall see. In the meantime, read and enjoy if you would.

…..

While they ran, the gnome Vinyard, somehow leading the charge despite his small size, a barrage of thoughts assaulted Plex.  He cursed the healer for not working on Glavven first.  He cursed himself for not being faster, being more aware, so he could have avoided the thrown spears on his own.  He cursed the dragon again and again for her part in all of this, in all these years of needless slaughter and bloodshed, in her name, or her honor.  Curse her honor.  Curse the day she was born.

Then his thoughts would circle back to what Baclem had just told him: Glavven was dead.  Dead?  How could that be?  Dead?  It was impossible.  Dead?  The minotaur hadn’t seem that injured.  Glavven was the strongest person on the team.  He could not be slayed so easily.  There must have been a mistake.  Dead?  It was all his fault.  Plex had failed him, failed his team.

No.  No he hadn’t.  This was all the dragon’s doing.  Glavven was dead, despite how unreal that sounded and felt, because the beast meddled in their lives for fun.  She played with them and tossed them away as she saw fit.  She was the monster behind every bad thing that had befallen the races since she seized control.

How had the healers failed to notice Glavven’s more serious wound?  They were supposed to be best among each of the races.  The dragon had demanded the best.  Nothing else would do for her new sport.  How could they have failed to save the minotaur?  It didn’t make sense.  None of it made sense.

Round and round his thoughts me.  Never sticking to any one thought or longer than it took his feet to fall and lift from the pavement as they made their flight through the deserted streets and alleys.

His strength returned in his arm more and more as they ran, the continuing effects of whatever the healer had done for him, but Plex was still certain he would have stumbled and fallen more than once if not for the steadying hand of Baclem.  First a minotaur and then a troll, Plex was racking up quite the debt list to races elves usually had little to nothing to do with.  

He wondered if football had somehow made him soft, despite the workouts and conditioning, the instincts and reactions that mattered most had failed him when called upon.  Or, perhaps the odds were just insurmountable against them?  Lavalandinarial and her honor guard were too strongly entrenched to be overthrown.

Plex shook the thought away.  It was defeatist and unproductive.  It was exactly what the dragon wanted him, and everyone else, to think.  

They slowed and stopped.  Vinyard motioned for them to gather together and be quiet.

“We are nearly there but you must be as quiet as possible and follow my lead.”

Baclem’s grip tightened on Plex.  He tried to let the troll know that he was okay now and no longer needed assistance but they were moving again before Plex could get his message across.

They stepped out of the shadowy alleyway and into a lit square.  The sudden glaring contrast hurt Plex’s eyes and he shielded them with his free hand.  Before he could see clearly, a shout of alarm went up from behind their group.

It was more Honor Guards. Somehow, they had found them. Then again, Plex cursed, they were the best from each of the races, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that they caught up to them. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though. It also meant that they were going to have to resort to drastic measures to lose the pursuit. 

Plex pulled himself free from Baclem’s grip. Any trace of his injury, or the subsequent healing, was gone. He had replaced it with rage. Rage at Glavven’s death. Rage at the state of his world. Rage at Lavalandinarial and her dominance over everything. Rage at the amount of senseless death he had seen at the hands of the dragon. 

He started running back towards the shouted alarm. The weight of a sword held down his right hand and he couldn’t remember how it got there. Did he pick it up before he began running away? He shook that thought from his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Baclem running beside him, his own sword in his hand. It seemed that the troll was intending to help him with his attack on the Honor Guard. 

Behind him, he heard Vinyard hollering for him to stop. He knew that Vinyard and his people thought that he was important to the mission, but at that moment, he didn’t care. Not only did he feel like he needed to get revenge for Glavven’s death, but there were others who needed to be saved. Plex wasn’t going to let anyone else fall to the dragon’s whims. Not if he could help it.

He finally came upon someone being accosted by the Honor Guard. An older dwarf, who he remembered as one of the defensive coaches, was surrounded by two of his kinsmen bearing the colors of the dragon. Plex immediately set upon the dwarf closest to him. Baclem circled around towards the other.

Plex knew that the Honor Guard couldn’t have heard him approach over the commotion going on around them, so it must’ve been the dwarf’s warrior instincts that warned him that he was coming. It didn’t matter. Plex’s superior speed, coupled with his unbridled rage, allowed him to deliver a killing blow to the Honor Guard before the dwarf could put up his defenses. Hot blood shot out of the dwarf’s throat as the blade dug all the way through his neck.

Baclem wasn’t as lucky. Because he was going after an opponent who was further away, the Honor Guard that he was fighting had more time to react. The troll moved in and swung his sword from the side. After disengaging from the dwarven coach, the Honor Guard put his sword in line to block. The dwarf then stepped to the side and let the troll’s weapon go past unobstructed. Now off balance, Baclem left himself exposed to attack.

Plex shouted a warning and moved to help but he knew he was going to be too late.  The honor guard spun his blade with precision and skill, flowing into the space left open by Baclem’s unobstructed swing.  The strike surely would have delivered a mortal blow if the coach the Honor Guard had been accosting hadn’t stuck a foot out and tripped him.  The blade slashed harmlessly and the troll brought his outstretched elbow up into a crouching blow with the guards chin.

The guard’s head whipped back and his weapon dropped from nerveless fingers.  Rather than deliver the killing blow himself though he was in a good position to do so, Plex grabbed the dwarven coaches shoulder and shouted, “Let’s go.” 

Baclem had followed the elbow with a smooth attack of his own, bring his hands together overhead on the hilt of his sword and sweeping the blow down straight onto the guard’s head.  Plex had already turned and began to run back to the rest of the team, pulling the coach with him, when he heard the crunch of metal on metal and then sickening thud of the blade embedding in the guard’s skull.

A moment later Baclem was once again at his side.  Some of Plex’s rage had cooled but it wasn’t gone completely and when another shout of alarm rose behind him, he was tempted to turn and face whoever was there.  He felt as though he could and would stand against the dragon herself in that moment.  But, enough of his anger had been unleashed that he could let logic carry the moment.

Vinyard was still waiting for them as they returned to where they had been.  The gnome wore a look of frustrated annoyance and as Plex passed, Vinyard seethed, “You need to stop running off.”

Plex wasn’t sure why they thought he was such a big deal.  They could find others to lead if he should fall.  They could find other entries into the teams.  He was not indispensable.  But, he kept his retort from reaching his lips.  While he was replaceable, they had also pinned a lot of their hopes and plans on him and had set those in motion.  It would be hard to change things now that the play had already started.  Besides, now that he was really allowing himself to feel the anger he had been harboring for the beast and her minions, Plex was beginning to think he was going to like leading the line against her, calling the plays, running the offense.  

He’d been picked to be a quarterback just because he could throw the ball.  He was a leader whether he liked to admit it or not.  That Baclem would follow him towards the sound of fighting was proof enough of that.

Somehow Vinyard had gotten ahead of them again and was ushering the team into a dark alley.  The heavy booted footsteps of men at arms rang out behind them.  Plex felt like they were too close to lose and they would have to stand and fight again but once he entered the alley the sound of their approach disappeared entirely.  

Vinyard stood at the cusp of the alley, just inside the shadows of the surrounding.  He wore a mischievous smile and when Plex caught his eyes, the gnome just held a finger over his lips to indicate silence was still needed.  A moment later a troop of Honor Guard, fully armed and armored, passed the alley without even a sideways glance.  There is magic at play here, Plex thought.

Fantasy Football Part 20

And, after a slight delay of game, we’re back. Read on to see what happens next with our favorite elven quarterback and the rest of his team.

…..

The roar of the crowed was being slowly replaced by a confused hush as a rush of whispers sped around the stadium.  It seemed to Plex that the switch the Honor Guard had made at the behest of the dragon had not gone unnoticed and word was spreading that the dragon was interfering with the game.

Plex scanned the crowd and found the pocket of dwarves he had noticed at the beginning of the game, the ones who hadn’t be cheering, who hadn’t looked like they were interested in the game at all.  He finally spotted them and they were huddled together in a spirited conversation with much gesturing and pointing amongst themselves. The elf wondered what they were up to but couldn’t imagine they would do anything now in the final seconds of the game.

Lavalandinarial shifted her weight on her stage.  The platform creaked and all eyes moved to rest with the beast.  She had once again adopted an expression of indifference but Plex was certain that was far from the truth.  The dragon very much cared.  

She let out a sigh and a puff of smoke billowed from her mouth.  The crowd quieted and shifted uneasily in their seats. A small smile, barely discernible, twisted the dragon’s lips.  At first Plex had assumed she would be upset that her interference hadn’t gone unnoticed but now he realized that she was still enjoying this spectacle.  

The whole thing, the teams, the game, the crowd, all of it was for her amusement and her amusement alone.  

Plex’s anger reached a new level.  

Needing to do something to calm down he turned his attention back to the field where the healer was still working with the dwarf who had been robbed of the ball and then punched twice by the Honor Guard.  The dwarf shouldn’t have been that injured but his face was white as if he were in a great deal of pain and on the verge of going into shock.

“It isn’t pain,” Plex muttered.

“No,” Coach Sprout said, suddenly at Plex’s side.  “It’s fear. He doesn’t need to worry, though. She won’t need to eat him to keep him quiet.  She obviously doesn’t care who knows she is cheating.”

Some of Plex’s rage had been tempered by Sprout’s arrival at his elbow startling him.  He could still feel it burning slow and low in his gut. It wasn’t just the charade of it, the destruction of the game and the waste of time and lives it had already cost.  The anger was churning hotter and hotter because there was nothing he could do about any of it.

Looking briefly down to his coach and then back to the field, where the healer was finally getting the dwarf to his feet and the Honor Guard was signaling for the teams to take their places to resume play, Plex asked, “What do we do now?”

Sprout didn’t answer and, surprised, Plex looked back to his Coach.  The gnome had always had an answer before. Plex couldn’t believe that Sprout wouldn’t have some sort of plan. “Well, Coach?” he prompted the still silent gnome.

With a sigh, Coach Sprout looked up at Plex with defeat on his face. “Now, we try our best, despite knowing that it might all be for nothing if the dragon decides she wants the other team to win.”

Anger began building up in Plex once again. He watched as his defense did their best to stop the offense of the other team. While he couldn’t be sure, he thought he saw a couple of instances where magic had moved a ball out of a defender’s reach or into an offensive player’s hands. Each time he saw it, he became more and more angry.

The whistle blew as the other team called their final time out. Plex looked up and saw that there was only time for one more play. Gilania’s team sent out their kicker to attempt a mid-range field goal. If it was good, the game would go into overtime and only the dragon knew what would happen if the game made it to overtime. Without realizing it, Plex found himself running out onto the field to try to block the kick. He heard Coach Sprout yelling at him to get back to the sideline, but he ignored it. Finally, the gnome called for another player to run off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his teammate exit the field just as the other team got set up for the try. Plex kept going over everything that had happened in the game up until this point and felt his face turn red in anger. He focused all of his energy on that rage. It built up inside of him until he felt like he was going to burst. 

A primal scream erupted from his throat as the ball was snapped back to the holder. Plex took two steps forward and jumped over both his teammates and those trying to block them. He couldn’t remember ever jumping that high before, but didn’t take the time to dwell on it. All he could focus on was using his rage to block the kick. Just as the kicker’s foot touched the ball, Plex felt something trying to touch his mind. It was the same sensation he had felt earlier in the game, right before the dragon had used its magic to mess with his head. “Not this time,” he roared as he flooded his thoughts with his anger.

Somehow, some way, it worked. His rage had allowed him to fight through the mental intrusion. Whatever magic the dragon was using still hurt him, but it wasn’t debilitating like it had been last time. Plex leapt again. The ball hit his swinging arms and went flying back the way it had come from. It landed on the ground ten yards behind the kicker and rolled towards the sideline. Before anyone from either team could get to it, the ball rolled out of bounds.

Stunned silence filled the stadium. All eyes slowly made their way up to the dragon’s platform, where a low growl was beginning to form.

The honor guard blew their whistles and then huddled together in deep discussion.  Plex trotted to the sideline with the rest of his teammates, away their decision. Almost absentmindedly, one of the honor guard threw a flag without care of where it landed.  

Plex’s head throbbed in time to the blood flowing through his veins.  Pulse, pulse, pulsing with his still boiling anger. The momentary outlet of athleticism had done little to assuage his rage.  The dawning realization that his attempt to stand up to the dragon’s interference would not be allowed to stand made him even angrier.

His teeth ground together.  His fists clenched. The muscles in his lengths twisted tightened until he lost feeling in his feet.  His vision shrunk to where he could only see the huddled honor guard circled by a blurry red.  

The head of the honor guard walked over to Coach Sprout and told the gnome something.  The coach nodded his head once and then started calling out instructions. There was a ringing in his ears that kept Plex from hearing what was being said so he trotted over to stand next to the Sprout.  Before he’d made it to the gnome, Plex noticed that his sister’s team was setting up to retake the kick, and a few yards closer at that.

Before Plex could ask what happened, his coach said, “We were called for a penalty.  Too many players on the field or something like that. Also, it has been suggested that I bench you for the remainder of the game for insubordination.  Given the alternative to benching, I feel like we have little choice. I’m not going to leave you out here, though. You are too exposed. Head back to our camp.”

Plex opened his mouth to protest but all his anger left him and he felt suddenly deflated.  The game was out of his hands. The game always had been. His own indifference, how he had felt before his queen asked him to join the elven team, returned and, with a shrug of his shoulders, he turned his back on the field and walked away.

He heard murmurs running around the stands and wondered how much of it was directed at him.  He wanted to look back to see if Lavalandinarial was watching him but didn’t want to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing his face in defeat, in retreat.  So, Plex kept his head down and left the stadium.

He hadn’t gone very far when the stadium erupted in a new wave of cheers.  He assumed that his sister’s team had converted the field goal to tie-up the game.  A part of him hoped they would go on to win. His refusal to be ruled by the dragon had likely sealed his death anyway.  It would be better if his sister won and then could live on.

Lost in these dark thoughs, Plex nearly missed his whispered name.  Whipping his head to the side he saw a dwarf motioning to him from a dark alleyway behind the business that had sprung up around the stadium.  The elf didn’t hesitate. He wanted to know what the dwarves were up to. And, if he was powerless on the field, perhaps he could find his power again off of it.  He quickly stepped into the shadows to join the dwarf.

Fantasy Football Part 18

I had this whole funny into typed out. I swear I did. Why would I lie? Why are you questioning me…?

Anyway, for reasons related to shenanigans that intro was lost. Let’s have a minute of silence in its honor.

…

Okay. On with the football!

….

The running back raced down the field.  Plex was certain he was going to score but then Kalant, who Plex hadn’t even realized was on the field, streaked across the field and smashed into the running back.  The two players crashed to the turf. For a moment it looked like the ball was going to pop loose but the runner managed to hang onto it. Still, the other team had made it down to the ten yard line, had a new set of downs, and with two full minutes left in the game, along with both teams having most of their timeouts left, the game could easily be turned on its head.

Plex suddenly understood why the dragon had been so excited about this game.  He glanced towards the beast and Lavalandinarial seemed to have taken a renewed interest in the game.  Its eyes were wide and they gleamed with a fierce intensity. It was actually rather horrible to look at and Plex quickly turned away.  

The two minute warning sounded and the magic time glass stopped its slow drain of sand.  Coach Sprout called the defensive line over to the side of the field and issued a quick series of instructions.  Plex wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said even with his good elven hearing. There was too much noise in the stadium for him to focus in on the conversation.  He considered moving closer but Coach wrapped up his instructions before Plex could get started in that direction and the defense jogged back onto the field.

“I guess I’ll see what his plan is anyway,” Plex mumbled to himself.

“What was that?”

Startled, Plex turned to see that the minotaur, Glavven, was standing next to him.  The quarterback had been so focused on trying to hear Coach Sprout that he’d missed the giant running back finishing up a session with the healer and moving over.

“I was curious what the coach was saying but couldn’t hear.  So, I was saying ‘I guess I’ll see what his plan is anyway.’”

“Ah.”

The two players watched in silence as the teams moved into position to restart the game.  It looked like the other team was setting up for another passing play. That made sense to Plex.  While there were still two minutes left in the game, they needed more than one touchdown to get the victory and time was against them.  

“We have not played well enough.”

The minotaur’s statement so startled Plex that he turned to face Glavven and missed the snap.  Plex whipped his head back towards the field as the quarterback dropped into the pocket. There was decent pass coverage and the other quarterback had to throw the ball away before getting sacked to stop the clock again. 

Without taking his eyes off the action, Plex asked, “What do you mean?”

“We have far superior players.  We should have handled this team easily.  We need to improve to ensure that we play better in our next match.”

“We need to win this one first,” Plex retorted.

“We will.”

Plex wasn’t about to refute Glavven’s confident statement. There was still a chance that the other team could tie the game up and they needed all the confidence that they could hold onto. If you went into any game, no matter what it was, thinking that you were going to lose, you were going to lose. He was glad for Glavven’s bold words and knew that he had to project the same level of confidence as well. As the quarterback, the team looked to him for leadership and he wasn’t going to let them down. 

His eyes went back to the field and his heart nearly jumped up out of his throat on the very next play. The quarterback for Gilania’s team made a horrible decision and threw it to a wide receiver who was too well covered. A collective gasp came from the crowd as the defensive back jumped in front of the receiver. It was one of the easiest interceptions a defender could make.

The only problem was that the defensive back didn’t make it. 

His hands closed less than a breath before the ball got there. It bounced off his fingers and fell harmlessly to the ground. All around him, the sideline became a chorus of groans and curses. None of them could believe that the defensive back missed a catch that was so easy. Plex didn’t believe it either. While the goblin defensive back looked at his hands in confusion, Plex knew that it wasn’t his teammate’s fault. The dragon had done something to prevent the interception. He just didn’t know what.

As the teams lined up for the next play, Plex tried to keep his anger in check. Lavalandinarial had already shown that she was capable of seeing into his mind. Any angry thoughts that might pop into his head would be all the excuse the dragon would need to swallow him whole. Plex pushed out all the thoughts he was having about the dragon and focused solely on the football. His attention needed to be on the game anyway. 

It was now third down and the opposing team ran the ball again in what would normally be a passing situation. It worked once more. Most of the defenders were caught off guard again. Kalant wasn’t. The dwarf flew like an arrow as the running back cut to the outside. Both running at full speed, the dwarf ducked down and put the full force of his momentum into his shoulder, which hit the running back squarely in the stomach. It was a collision that would have even knocked Glavven to the ground despite the minotaur being twice the dwarf’s height and weight. 

The other team’s running back, an orc, bounced right off him, though.

With Kalant’s tackle failing, there was nobody else to stop the orc from waltzing into the end zone. The arena was suddenly filled by the roar of the cheering crowd. While he didn’t want to admit it, Plex probably would have been cheering too if he was just a spectator. Games were more fun to watch when the score was close like this.

Glavven cursed then cursed again.  Then a string a words began to flow out of the minotaur in his native tongue.  It was angry and vulgar.

Plex, forcing his attention to stay on the field, took a minute to hear the outburst and by the time he had turned towards the minotaur the running back had worked himself into a fit.  He placed a hand on Glavven’s shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Spit flew from Glavven’s mouth as he answered, reverting back to common.  “This is not the first time something has kept us from our glory. Something is working against us.”  

Internally, Plex cursed.  He needed to get the minotaur calmed down before his outburst was noticed.  At least it seemed like Glavven hadn’t figured out who was interfering.

“Someone is cheating.  There is no honor in that.  It is disgraceful. It is unacceptable.”

With each pronouncement, Glavven’s voiced rose higher and higher.  The celebration from the touchdown was still loud enough that nobody was paying attention to Glavven but it was only a matter of time.  “We are going to win, remember. You told me that yourself just a few minutes ago.”

Glavven turned a darker shade of red and then spat a gob of snot to the ground at his feet.  “What will that victory mean? Nothing. It is nothing. This whole game, this battle, has been nothing.  We have earned nothing. We have been allowed to appear like we are the victors. That is all.”

“Glavven,” Plex took on an urging tone and squeezed the shoulder his hand was still on, “you need to calm down.  You can’t be seen having this outburst right now. Bottle it up and you can vent later.”

The minotaur carried on as if Plex hadn’t spoken at all.  

“There is no honor in this.  There is no pride. There is nothing.  We have fought for nothing. We are nothing!”

The players around Plex had started to hear Glavven.  He needed the running back to get control of himself now.  He slapped Glavven across the face. “Glavven, get control of yourself.  This outburst does nothing but help the other team.”

The minotaur didn’t seem to notice.  If he did, he certainly didn’t care. Plex slapped him again, desperate to get Glavven’s attention, to break his rant and potentially save his life.  “Glavven!”

Seething, the giant running back turned to look down on the elf.  His eyes, burning the same red as his body, narrowed and steaming snot dripped from his snout.  “This is not right.”

“No, it isn’t but if you don’t calm down you will die.”

Something had happened in the game.  The crowd erupted in another loud rapture of applause but Plex didn’t dare look away from Glavven.  Nothing could have happened that would have sealed the fate of either team, not in that one play.  

“This is not right,” Glavven repeated with slightly less venom.

The minotaur was correct, of course, but it didn’t matter.  In that moment all that mattered was keeping Glavven alive. Plex wasn’t sure what to say, though.  And, he heard the dragon’s wings stretching. The beast was moving and it might already be too late, anyway.

 

lines from a song writing prompt 4

Below I’m posting a bit from a song I love and then I’ll write something around it (not necessarily in the context from the original source but maybe).  If the line grabs you, please steal it and play along too.  Post a link in the comments so I can check out what you did with it as well.

……….

“… and hear your voice of treason.”

……….

He was all mixed up.  She had a way of turning his thoughts inside out.  He didn’t know what he could trust because even his feelings seemed to betray him recently.  Did he love her?  Did he despise her?  Sometimes that depended on the second.

When she curled against him his heart soared.  When she lashed out at him, he sank.  When she sought him out for companionship, for love, he felt he could hold her forever.  When she was intentionally destructive, he couldn’t understand how things could go on.

Minute by minute, day by day, weeks, and months, and years, their relationship carried on in this manner until finally time took its toll on his beloved and she passed.  Then, when she was no longer in his life, he knew that he had loved her all long.  And, as the vet helped him pick out a marker for his dead cat, he couldn’t help himself from singing, “and hear your voice of treason, will you come home and stop this pain tonight, stop this pain tonight.”