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