--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [UHLMEYER]: As I said, uh, commissioner, we had zero indication to believe that such an incident would occur with Bob or any other host or guest of our station. [COMMISSIONER BULLARD]: But one did, Mr. Uhlmeyer, and I do note that you've dodged the questions of this commission several times about who the actual guest was that seemingly appeared and prompted the incid-- [UHLMEYER]: Commissioner Bullard, I have no earthly idea who that was, a-- [COMMISSIONER BULLARD]: You had scheduled Port Astor City Health Commissioner, Eugene Kotz, for that broadcast, correct? [UHLMEYER]: Yes, that is correct. [COMMISSIONER BULLARD]: Was it not him? [UHLMEYER]: I do not believe so. [COMMISSIONER BULLARD]: Why is that? [UHLMEYER]: Because we found him still in the waiting area, and he told us that no one had ever come to retrieve him. Further, I do not believe that Bob would have acted su-- [COMMISSI...

      In the Autumn of 1930, when the nation was enduring the Great Depression, and the city of Port Astor was attempting to survive a severe plague, many tried to stay connected with the wider world through their radios, if not find some mild form of escape from the dread of their lives. In that time of isolation, radio broadcasts was a godsend, and listenership was at an all-time high locally. All of this, by way of the local station, KPA, and its cast and crew. KPA was famous for its wide assortment of programming, including among its offerings was the first of now-common genres; drama, comedy, and talk.     It was a late Fall broadcast of their evening talk show, "Watt in The World?" with host Robert "Dour Bob" Wattson that led the station into perilous grounds. The show started a few minutes late, and with the host delivering the shows introduction and initial read for sponsor, Astor Ginger Ale, through heavy breathing. When Robert went to introduce the gue...

 Hey Everybody, SPOOKY SEASON IS UPON US! Praise be. At the time of this post going live, I'll be at the 31st HP Lovecraft Film Festival here in Portland, and so if you see this (and somehow recognize me), feel free to say hello during those three days. Also, as is tradition, the annual mini-series kicks off... next weekend, with the post with the premise! This year is a little different, as there will be 4 pieces instead of the usual 3-- the reason is that October has been blessed with 5 Saturdays (including Halloween itself), and I didn't want to leave one day hanging with nothing on it. So, you get a bonus (kind of)! Additionally, I will be doing a reading as part of the Oregon Chapter of the Horror Writers Association here in Portland at Bold Coffee & Books on October 30th at 7pm, with several other local writers and authors who are some of the coolest cats I know. If you are in the area, please come by, grab a coffee and/or beer, and enjoy some of the fruits (stories) ...

 Hey Y'all, this is an edited and updated version of a story that I originally put up in April of 2025. There might be a few more of these as time goes on and I revisit some older material. I definitely won't do this to every piece; only ones I think I could have done a little better. I went through the old woods some time ago. After returning from my time abroad, I thought it a good idea to reacquaint myself with the lands of my birth. I had traveled as far as I could from my home for my education, to rid myself of the simpleness of my upbringing, and to bring myself closer to an enlightened civility. But, even with that said, I could not pull myself away from the feelings of relish I knew I would surely encounter by simply... escaping into the forest of my fathers. And surely these old trees agreed with me! I felt the warm welcome of their canopy o'er me as I cross over the threshold of the forests' edge. It felt strange in a pleasantly peculiar way, but I did not rej...

  Hey Everyone, 2026 sucks. I've tried to do a bunch of stuff this year, but nearly all of it was derailed by a series of health issues  I suffered this year; such is life. I'm trying to get shit ready for Spooky Season later this year, and trying to get other projects off the ground, but we'll see how it all goes. One thing I am somewhat proud of is that... I am releasing a two-page RPG! It is meant to be a proof of concept for a future, more fully-fleshed out Port Astor TTRPG, but also to sort of stand on it's own as a rules-light system that will be changed as feedback comes in. You'll be able to find it on this super-secret page that I'll probably make more public later, but for now, let's keep this between us, 'kay? More stuff down the pipe soon enough. Stay safe out there, and be good to one-another. Thank You & Very Respectfully, Zachariah O

 "Hello caller, you're on the air..." "I'd originally moved to the area for work, and of course you can't beat that 'Port Astor Rent', but after seeing what 'PA Rent' gets you, I only paid for the rent once before breaking the lease, and looking... somewhere else." "I found a sublet in North Astor, a suburb off of one of the two bridges in-or-out of the city, and it felt fine for a little bit, if not a little bit sterile. It has a lot of new or recent buildings, with a lot of corporate outlets; no mom-and-pop anything. Everyone worked for one of the local business giants, like Magter or Stagg, or the Feds in one way or another. Nimitz Naval Station was right there. The sailors and airmen spent their leave in town, since Port Astor was still angry about the shelling incident way back in like 1930 or something." "The sublet was okay; a stale-if-clean apartment complete with stainless steel appliances, particle board with ston...

    Even at the height of the Old Empire, the people that lived in the extreme northwest proved to be an impenetrable wall. When Tyrant Lycaon III sent a trade mission, his sailors found their remains returned, attached to ballista bolts fired at the ships sent to search for them in battle.     Today, relations remain much of what they were, except now the "Merifolc", as they have come to be called, have cannons instead of ballistae. Indeed, modern firearms where thought to have been invested by them, and only made their way to the wider world when an Azraqi ship found an abandoned Merifolc gunboat that could still move without sails.     Their hostility to Naxos is not unique to them, as the Merifolc will gladly open fire on any ship they can find. The reason for their aggression is not known, as to date, no Merifolc has ever been taken alive.

      As in the west, exploration and trade becomes difficult after a certain Instead of geographically, however, it is due to the enormity of the Azraqi Princedoms and general disdain for Naxians therein. That said, over centuries, travelers, rogue traders, and daring explorers have produced a slow trickle of rumors of what lies beyond Azraq.     Past the Eastern Desert, explorers tell of great pains devoid of anything but grass and stone. The Azraqi claim it was once the seat of a great ancient empire, so old that its name is forever gone. Legend says that they angered their god with impiety, and the god blew a wind so strong that the entire empire was blown from the earth and into the void, and that the ancient forgotten god will still not allow any settlement of its lands.     Even further, is said to lie the land of Haeia; a land of masterful warriors who endlessly fight a war for supremacy after an ancient king died with no heir. It is also said ...

      Perhaps no power has posed as much an existential threat since the Minotaur as the Azraqi Princedoms; ever since the Old Empire ruled Thrace, the Azraqi have engaged in war both hot and cold with Naxos. Most of those conflicts occurred in Northern Thrace, but several naval campaigns as well, but neither side has ever come too close to the homelands of either.     The crux of their mutual animosity is the dispute over Thrace, but for the last several centuries, there has been a religious component as well. When Ansharianism became the dominant faith in Azraq, clerics from that religion began evangelizing in Naxian territories across the seas. At first, their revulsion was out of concern of foreign influence, but after the Reclamation, it become ne of targeted xenophobia.     Today, relations between the Duchy and The Princes is frosty at best, with trade restricted to only those vessels and captains approved directly by The Despot Council. Inciden...

      The Lands beyond the Seawall Mountains have long captured the imaginations of Naxians; primeval forests, impossibly tall grey peaks permanently crowned in ice, and strange magical beasts and people. Naxos only knew these lands a brief time before The Collapse, even then, it never conquered them. The High King of Tir Teoroch chose vassalage instead of war, sending tributes to Naxos, and those assigned to their court reported stories of fantastical magic and impossible deeds that made their way back to the home islands growing even wilder in each retelling.     Beyond that, the various peoples beyond the mountains barely know the Duchy. After The Collapse, Tir Teoroch simply stopped paying tribute.     Naxos has had limited contact with the others; the gnomish kingdom of Gahgarin, the srcs of Great Gara Doga, and the dwarven Jarls of Stora Jarn, and the multitude of itinerant halfling clans. Most of twhat is known comes from their traders, or secon...

     Eabha trudged barefoot through the sodden moonlit forest of early Winter, with soot and ash in her dark hair, and a spike of iron hanging on from her waist. Inquisitor Molan of The Black Saint had come to her home after the ill-fated duel with the closet thing she ever had to a brother, Cillian. And Molan had come with torches, and force. The last memory Eabha would ever have of her home was its conflagration.      It had all started when famine came at the hands of rot that took the grain. The village blamed Draoi Righnach, Eabha’s mentor, and whose line had been there in the Ban Forest for longer than it knew that name. So the Tiarna, the lord, called for an Inquisitor of Saint Macsen. Righnach had then soon disappeared searching for the culprit she knew caused the rot and harvest failure.      The issue was, however, that Righnach had vanished the same day Inquisitor Molan had come to The Ban. When Cillian had realized this, he ...

    So, I was recently taken out of commission by the flu, and had a bunch of free time.  What better time to replay some good ole’ New Vegas?  I have a pretty set way that I play this game at this point, having done so since it launched in October of 2010; set my tag skills to Barter, Sneak, and Explosives to get all the dialogue options to do “Ghost Town Gunfight”, ransack Goodsprings for all it’s worth, and then set out into the wild orange yonder to follow Benny’s trail until eventually arriving in The Strip, where I will simply go guns-a-blazin’ upon the poor saps who run The Tops.  From there, I usually then dink around the New Vegas area proper doing random side-quests until I feel sufficiently leveled to begin the DLCs, starting with Honest Hearts, which I think is grossly underappreciated as a side western story.  But this isn’t about that DLC, nor even the appropriately-praised brilliance of Old World Blues.  No, this is about Dead Money, and...

 “Hello caller, you’re on the air…”   "It was a weird time the other night, around Tuesday? I was taking a walk out near Mauricio and 9th, and it was real quiet. Sure, there were the usual tweakers and homeless, but it felt… I don’t know, just really quiet. In a way that it doesn’t really get in the middle of a big city." "I was out walking just because, you know, there’s a lot going on in the world right now and I think staying inside and doom-spiraling isn’t really helping. So, even though Port Astor is shit, I decided to go out. When I moved here from The Bay Area, I was told about ‘a sense of mystery’, and that this was a different hub to grow in—and cheaper than San Francisco to a frankly gross degree. And, sure, I had heard it had problems, but what major city doesn’t? I’m sure we are all aware of apps that track sighting of homeless people pooping back home, and Fox hammering home how it’s a gay den of sin. My point—I thought I was prepared." "Anyway, I ...

 Hey Everybody, What a fucking year, amirite? If you are anything like me, it's been a lot. Between ongoing political shit here at home, local issues, and all of the other non-sense I am involved with, I feel like I am being hung-drawn-and-quartered for my time and energy. So, with that, it's Roll for Writings' 4th birthday! Horseshit aside, I have some cool stuff lined up for this month, which I hope is a good make-up for the lack of guest writers this year-- I honestly did not have the wherewithal to wrangle any this year for reasons kinda covered in the first paragraph. Like in previous years, there will be something new every Saturday this April, and the nothin' for May as that is my birthday month, and I refuse to do any work that I don't have to during that time. Anyway, keep an eye out for the new stuff this month! Take care, and be good to one another out there. Thank You & Very Respectfully, Zachariah O