Sunday, December 23, 2007
I ordered a new RPG!
It's called, Testament, the d20 role-playing game set in the Biblical Era. You heard me the Bible D20! I'm so excited!
The book's focus deals with the Israelites, Babylonians, Canaanites, and Egyptians. How much more interesting is the Old Testament going to be after your characters have done recon missions into Canna for General Joshua, or fighting the Amalekites in the desert, or being hunted by King Saul for your loyalty to David? This is going to be fun for my hardcore veteran gaming pals and my Church youth group and/or bible study.
And this is no slim gaming supplement; this paperback rulebook weighs-in at 240-pages! Not only is this a game book I have wanted ever since I heard it existed but this is the best part, the book retails for $32.00 (ouch! I could never afford that now). I got it on sale for $2 (plus 4 bucks shipping and handling) but still, 6 bucks for a 32 dollar book. That is a bargain! I can't wait for it to arrive!
For my more avid gaming friends you can read a full book review about it here http://www.rpg.net/reviews/archive/9/9706.phtml
Anyone got any comments about this? Cool? Blasphemous? Want to try it? Tell me!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Superhero Backgrounds 3
This is the third of five Superhero Character Backgrounds.
Concrete
Dustin Michaels 6’3” and 223 pounds was nicknamed Dustin “Concrete” Michaels because hitting him was like running into a concrete barrier. In his high school football career, he made 204 tackles, had 10 fumble recoveries, 18 interceptions (returning seven for TDs) and returned 40 punts (18.3-yard average), three for scores.
Ohio State saw Buckeyes potential and his first season reviews did not disappoint, “Michael’s is a very athletic defensive back, who can play both corner and safety. He has excellent speed to go along with good hip movement which allows him to run with receivers and make plays on the ball. He's very smart player who recognizes routes. His athleticism and smarts make him a ballhawk, and he has a tendency to return interceptions for touchdowns. He will more than likely end up playing safety in the NFL, and should make an immediate impact.”
He was big man on campus two years in a row. He was everyone’s favorite defensive back and the ladies loved him. But that was the problem. Cheerleaders and sorority girls were always interested in the most-likely-to-go-pro guys, but Dustin wanted more. Someone he could be with him even if he didn’t play football. Then he met her, Yulia Mihailov, light brown hair, blue eyes, athletic, 5’9” 165lbs. She was known to his teammates as that hot girl with the Russian accent but Dustin knew who she really was. Yulia was the head of Professoer Prabir Dutta’s research team that earned a spot on the prestigious “R&D 100” list. This international beauty was quickly becoming renowned as a leader in the field of chemistry. Dustin never ran for the first down it was always the touchdown or not at all; and Yulia was definitely his touchdown.
She must have shot him down a dozen times, one time very loudly in a crowded cafe. Rejection was an unfamiliar sensation for the All-American football star, but sports had taught him tenacity. What troubled Dustin was she never explained why she wouldn't go out with him. One afternoon in The Thompson Library, he cornered her alone and pleaded to know why she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. She was cold but honest, “You are a jock. You float through college and are practically handed a degree. While people like myself struggle everyday to earn that sheep skin. And before you give me that bull about how hard playing football is, remember I’m not trying to date you. You are trying to date me. If you want a date me, take some real classes and then we will talk.” She turned and strutted away. Before she disappeared behind the rows of bookshelves, she turned and said, “I need you to show me, I’m worth it to you. I’m waiting.”
By the third semester of his junior year, Dustin was balancing football with his exceptional marks in several difficult classes. He knew it started with Yulia but now he was doing for himself. He had never been expected to excel at his academics but now he was seeing what he was really made of.
Beginning senior year, Yulia’s Siberian heart had thawed and they began to seeing each other for study dates with some of Yulia’s friends. Dustin was treated not much better then a talking monkey by her friends. The worst was Katsuo Nakamura a young Japanese-American prodigy who had claimed Yulia for his own and all the science geeks knew it, except Yulia of course. Katsuo would always pretend to be nice to Dustin when Yulia was around and then spurred the others to ridicule and tease him the moment she left the room. Dustin knew what they were doing but he worked to hard to lose her because of these jealous nerds.
Finals week turned campus into a mad house. This was the first year Dustin was worried about passing those tests. By this time, Dustin & Yulia had been studying together without her friends and he actually got her to come see one of his games. They were talking about Europe in the summer and meeting her parents. Dustin’s dreams were coming true, but he had to get through these finals. Four days before finals, Yulia brought Katsuo by and told Dustin that he had offered to help him with his chem. final. Dustin accepted his help.
Katsuo showed Dustin to the basement below his apartment complex. Katsuo had converted the old boiler room into his own personal lab. Unbeknownst to Dustin, the majority of lab equipment was stolen from campus. Katsuo told Dustin the written portion of the exam was just memorization, but the lab part was crucial. Dustin was desperate to pass, so he did as Katsuo said.
After hours, the 5 foot wide 11 feet long lab table was covered in lab equipment and volatile chemicals. The Erlenmeyer and Florence flasks ranged from 250 to 500 ml. They sat on ring stands over Bunsen burners. The table was clutter with racks of test tubes, tongs, watch glasses, and mortar & pestles. Dustin became more and more frustrated as Katsuo continued to deviate from the classroom chemistry. Finally, Katsuo said “We’re almost finished. Your understanding of chemistry is remarkable…for a jock.” Before Dustin could respond, Katsuo continued, “Wait here I will back with something to drink.”
Exhausted and frustrated Dustin steps to the far end of the table to examine for the first time the mobile dry erase board. The formula Katsuo had put on board was nothing like he had seen in class. It looked like something out of science fiction. Dustin turned to shout across the room “What is all this?” But Katsuo was right behind him holding a loaded syringe!
Katsuo held the syringe over his head like a knife, the needle pointed at Dustin and his thumb on the plunger. “You should have stuck to football, Yulia belongs to me!”, he swung the syringe at Dustin. Dustin grabbed the scrawny nerds forearm expecting to snap it. Dustin was startled by the strength Katsuo possessed. His shock was revealed on his face, “We nerds have strong forearms!” Katsuo maniacally laughed as he forced the syringe closer to Dustin’s chest. Dustin rolled to the left hoping to use Katsuo strength against him. Suddenly, Katsuo punched Dustin in the face with his free hand. Dustin felt himself raise off the ground from the blow and knew the table of chemicals was behind him, as a reflex he gabbed Katsuo by his suspenders. The two college students hurled towards the table of unstable chemicals and landed in a crash as beakers shattered and chemicals splashed in all directions. There was an explosion and Katsuo’s face was badly burned. Screaming and holding his face Katsuo ran out of the basement. Dustin looked around and saw the syringe in his leg. The toppled burners had started a fire and the chemicals had begun to create toxic smoke. That’s when Dustin lost consciousness.
Four days later he emerged in the middle of the night from the rubble of the destroyed apartment complex. He stumbled disoriented in the direction of his dorm. Half way there he stopped on a park bench hoping his head would stop pounding long enough for him to make sense of what had happen. When he was sitting there a woman screamed pointing in his direction and ran. Dustin leapt to his feet and looked behind him but nothing was there. He looked down at himself and he became very afraid. He looked at his chest, arms, and legs. All his muscles had become larger and more defined but his skin was the color and texture of a cement block. Terrified that he suffered permanent damage in the fire, Dustin ran back to his dorm.
His whole body was covered in this concrete skin. He felt stronger and knew he was much large then before. Who could he turn to? He thought he was some kind freak, some meta-human. He couldn’t turn to his coach. He would just tell him his career was over, meta-humans where not allowed to play pro ball. He couldn't call his folks. His father was bigot, the type that hated everyone especially meta-humans. He thought, "What would Yulia say? What was the point of finding out? How could she love a monster?" He decided there was no one to turn to, no one that would understand. He grabbed a few of his possessions and was on the road before sun up.
After a year of drifting, Dustin found himself homeless in New York City. A wide brim hat, an oversized trench coat, traveling at night and avoiding people helped hide his unusual appearance. He was still uncertain as to what to do with his life and where he could go from there.
One night he was sleeping behind a synagogue in Brooklyn. It was early, ten or eleven at night. Dustin watched as the elderly rabbi was locking up. He saw the street punks approaching. They followed the rabbi about a 3 blocks at a distance but Dustin also followed them. Before they could close in on the elderly jewish man, Dustin was on them. Their switchblades broke on his alabaster skin. Their steel toed boots and chains had little effect on him. Soon the alley was littered with their broken unconscious bodies. The little rabbi entered his apartment building across the street from the alley where Dustin surprised the hoodlums, seemingly unaware of any danger. Dustin made an anonymous call to the police and the paramedics.
The next Sabbath night, Dustin was back outside the synagogue getting ready to sleep near the dumpster when he heard someone coming. He put his hat on hoping they would pass by when he heard, “I do not know who you are but I wanted to thank you. I thought they were going to kill me. You are a hero. If you ever need anything I am in your debt.”
“I’m not a hero. I’m a freak… a monster.” Dustin grumbled in reply pulling his trench coat tighter around him.
“Young man, you take a great deal of care to cover up your appearance. I want you to know, you could look like a demon spawned by Lilith herself under that hat but monsters don’t save lives. Those punks weren’t bothering you. You could have left me to my fate but instead you rescued me from certain death. You made a choice. It is your choices that define you not your appearence.” He paused and then, “Would you like to finish this discussion inside?” Dustin stood, removed his hat, and stepped into the light of a street lamp. The rabbi smiled, “What a relief, you are just a man made of stone. That is much easier to handle then what I was imagining. Please come with me.”
After several hours, Rabbi Ben Yehuda convinced Dustin to stay in the apartment near the synagogue that was reserved for visiting rabbis. Now that Dustin was off the streets, he had time to reflex and with the rabbi’s counseling decided he needed to use his gifts to help people.
Before long he was patrolling Brooklyn from Bay Ridge to Greenpoint. He protected the residents of Brooklyn from violent crime. His success at reducing gang violence in the city attracted the attention of the JLA. His invitation to the JLA’s Los Angeles embassy arrived yesterday with a plane ticket.
Concrete
Dustin Michaels 6’3” and 223 pounds was nicknamed Dustin “Concrete” Michaels because hitting him was like running into a concrete barrier. In his high school football career, he made 204 tackles, had 10 fumble recoveries, 18 interceptions (returning seven for TDs) and returned 40 punts (18.3-yard average), three for scores.
Ohio State saw Buckeyes potential and his first season reviews did not disappoint, “Michael’s is a very athletic defensive back, who can play both corner and safety. He has excellent speed to go along with good hip movement which allows him to run with receivers and make plays on the ball. He's very smart player who recognizes routes. His athleticism and smarts make him a ballhawk, and he has a tendency to return interceptions for touchdowns. He will more than likely end up playing safety in the NFL, and should make an immediate impact.”
He was big man on campus two years in a row. He was everyone’s favorite defensive back and the ladies loved him. But that was the problem. Cheerleaders and sorority girls were always interested in the most-likely-to-go-pro guys, but Dustin wanted more. Someone he could be with him even if he didn’t play football. Then he met her, Yulia Mihailov, light brown hair, blue eyes, athletic, 5’9” 165lbs. She was known to his teammates as that hot girl with the Russian accent but Dustin knew who she really was. Yulia was the head of Professoer Prabir Dutta’s research team that earned a spot on the prestigious “R&D 100” list. This international beauty was quickly becoming renowned as a leader in the field of chemistry. Dustin never ran for the first down it was always the touchdown or not at all; and Yulia was definitely his touchdown.
She must have shot him down a dozen times, one time very loudly in a crowded cafe. Rejection was an unfamiliar sensation for the All-American football star, but sports had taught him tenacity. What troubled Dustin was she never explained why she wouldn't go out with him. One afternoon in The Thompson Library, he cornered her alone and pleaded to know why she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. She was cold but honest, “You are a jock. You float through college and are practically handed a degree. While people like myself struggle everyday to earn that sheep skin. And before you give me that bull about how hard playing football is, remember I’m not trying to date you. You are trying to date me. If you want a date me, take some real classes and then we will talk.” She turned and strutted away. Before she disappeared behind the rows of bookshelves, she turned and said, “I need you to show me, I’m worth it to you. I’m waiting.”
By the third semester of his junior year, Dustin was balancing football with his exceptional marks in several difficult classes. He knew it started with Yulia but now he was doing for himself. He had never been expected to excel at his academics but now he was seeing what he was really made of.
Beginning senior year, Yulia’s Siberian heart had thawed and they began to seeing each other for study dates with some of Yulia’s friends. Dustin was treated not much better then a talking monkey by her friends. The worst was Katsuo Nakamura a young Japanese-American prodigy who had claimed Yulia for his own and all the science geeks knew it, except Yulia of course. Katsuo would always pretend to be nice to Dustin when Yulia was around and then spurred the others to ridicule and tease him the moment she left the room. Dustin knew what they were doing but he worked to hard to lose her because of these jealous nerds.
Finals week turned campus into a mad house. This was the first year Dustin was worried about passing those tests. By this time, Dustin & Yulia had been studying together without her friends and he actually got her to come see one of his games. They were talking about Europe in the summer and meeting her parents. Dustin’s dreams were coming true, but he had to get through these finals. Four days before finals, Yulia brought Katsuo by and told Dustin that he had offered to help him with his chem. final. Dustin accepted his help.
Katsuo showed Dustin to the basement below his apartment complex. Katsuo had converted the old boiler room into his own personal lab. Unbeknownst to Dustin, the majority of lab equipment was stolen from campus. Katsuo told Dustin the written portion of the exam was just memorization, but the lab part was crucial. Dustin was desperate to pass, so he did as Katsuo said.
After hours, the 5 foot wide 11 feet long lab table was covered in lab equipment and volatile chemicals. The Erlenmeyer and Florence flasks ranged from 250 to 500 ml. They sat on ring stands over Bunsen burners. The table was clutter with racks of test tubes, tongs, watch glasses, and mortar & pestles. Dustin became more and more frustrated as Katsuo continued to deviate from the classroom chemistry. Finally, Katsuo said “We’re almost finished. Your understanding of chemistry is remarkable…for a jock.” Before Dustin could respond, Katsuo continued, “Wait here I will back with something to drink.”
Exhausted and frustrated Dustin steps to the far end of the table to examine for the first time the mobile dry erase board. The formula Katsuo had put on board was nothing like he had seen in class. It looked like something out of science fiction. Dustin turned to shout across the room “What is all this?” But Katsuo was right behind him holding a loaded syringe!
Katsuo held the syringe over his head like a knife, the needle pointed at Dustin and his thumb on the plunger. “You should have stuck to football, Yulia belongs to me!”, he swung the syringe at Dustin. Dustin grabbed the scrawny nerds forearm expecting to snap it. Dustin was startled by the strength Katsuo possessed. His shock was revealed on his face, “We nerds have strong forearms!” Katsuo maniacally laughed as he forced the syringe closer to Dustin’s chest. Dustin rolled to the left hoping to use Katsuo strength against him. Suddenly, Katsuo punched Dustin in the face with his free hand. Dustin felt himself raise off the ground from the blow and knew the table of chemicals was behind him, as a reflex he gabbed Katsuo by his suspenders. The two college students hurled towards the table of unstable chemicals and landed in a crash as beakers shattered and chemicals splashed in all directions. There was an explosion and Katsuo’s face was badly burned. Screaming and holding his face Katsuo ran out of the basement. Dustin looked around and saw the syringe in his leg. The toppled burners had started a fire and the chemicals had begun to create toxic smoke. That’s when Dustin lost consciousness.
Four days later he emerged in the middle of the night from the rubble of the destroyed apartment complex. He stumbled disoriented in the direction of his dorm. Half way there he stopped on a park bench hoping his head would stop pounding long enough for him to make sense of what had happen. When he was sitting there a woman screamed pointing in his direction and ran. Dustin leapt to his feet and looked behind him but nothing was there. He looked down at himself and he became very afraid. He looked at his chest, arms, and legs. All his muscles had become larger and more defined but his skin was the color and texture of a cement block. Terrified that he suffered permanent damage in the fire, Dustin ran back to his dorm.
His whole body was covered in this concrete skin. He felt stronger and knew he was much large then before. Who could he turn to? He thought he was some kind freak, some meta-human. He couldn’t turn to his coach. He would just tell him his career was over, meta-humans where not allowed to play pro ball. He couldn't call his folks. His father was bigot, the type that hated everyone especially meta-humans. He thought, "What would Yulia say? What was the point of finding out? How could she love a monster?" He decided there was no one to turn to, no one that would understand. He grabbed a few of his possessions and was on the road before sun up.
After a year of drifting, Dustin found himself homeless in New York City. A wide brim hat, an oversized trench coat, traveling at night and avoiding people helped hide his unusual appearance. He was still uncertain as to what to do with his life and where he could go from there.
One night he was sleeping behind a synagogue in Brooklyn. It was early, ten or eleven at night. Dustin watched as the elderly rabbi was locking up. He saw the street punks approaching. They followed the rabbi about a 3 blocks at a distance but Dustin also followed them. Before they could close in on the elderly jewish man, Dustin was on them. Their switchblades broke on his alabaster skin. Their steel toed boots and chains had little effect on him. Soon the alley was littered with their broken unconscious bodies. The little rabbi entered his apartment building across the street from the alley where Dustin surprised the hoodlums, seemingly unaware of any danger. Dustin made an anonymous call to the police and the paramedics.
The next Sabbath night, Dustin was back outside the synagogue getting ready to sleep near the dumpster when he heard someone coming. He put his hat on hoping they would pass by when he heard, “I do not know who you are but I wanted to thank you. I thought they were going to kill me. You are a hero. If you ever need anything I am in your debt.”
“I’m not a hero. I’m a freak… a monster.” Dustin grumbled in reply pulling his trench coat tighter around him.
“Young man, you take a great deal of care to cover up your appearance. I want you to know, you could look like a demon spawned by Lilith herself under that hat but monsters don’t save lives. Those punks weren’t bothering you. You could have left me to my fate but instead you rescued me from certain death. You made a choice. It is your choices that define you not your appearence.” He paused and then, “Would you like to finish this discussion inside?” Dustin stood, removed his hat, and stepped into the light of a street lamp. The rabbi smiled, “What a relief, you are just a man made of stone. That is much easier to handle then what I was imagining. Please come with me.”
After several hours, Rabbi Ben Yehuda convinced Dustin to stay in the apartment near the synagogue that was reserved for visiting rabbis. Now that Dustin was off the streets, he had time to reflex and with the rabbi’s counseling decided he needed to use his gifts to help people.
Before long he was patrolling Brooklyn from Bay Ridge to Greenpoint. He protected the residents of Brooklyn from violent crime. His success at reducing gang violence in the city attracted the attention of the JLA. His invitation to the JLA’s Los Angeles embassy arrived yesterday with a plane ticket.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Superhero Backgrounds 2
This is the second of five Superhero Character Backgrounds.
The Gryphon
Anastasia Griffin, top international model, sets her table for two in her Paris apartment. She’s tall with wavy brown hair and dark brown almond shaped eyes. Her face is heart shaped with rounded features and she has a well toned body with a light bronze skin tone. She looks up at the clock, ‘Almost eight o’clock, he should be here by now. Well, Paris is more crowded then it use to be. He’s probably just stuck in traffic.
This past year has been the hardest on my modeling career. I never thought anything could be more important to me than my work. I’ve always had a reputation for extreme sports. You name it, I did it, rock climbing, scuba diving, white water rafting, paintball safari. However, I never missed a shoot or a show until this year. Everyone thinks this is all about Gwen. I guess it is, but not the way they think.
There’s a knock at the door, ‘He’s here. I hope I’m ready for this.’ Stasia nervously goes to the door, takes a deep breath. She opens the door with a smile, “Bonjour, Andrew.” Standing at the door is a middle-aged man. He is dressed well and his hair is in tight fade with copious amounts of gel arranging the sparse strands on top in attempt to hide his impending baldness.
He enters, “I got your text.” his entire demeanor expresses his restrained anger. He looks around at the apartment almost surprised by its cleanliness. “What is this all about?”
Stasia evasively replies, “I picked up some le pain Poi lane today would you care for some? I…”
Andrew cuts her off, “Three months, Stasia! I have been worried sick about you! I haven’t heard from you. I have called everyone! Photographers, designers, the other models, and no one had heard from you. Your assistant said you had her cancel all your modeling gigs and then you sent her on a paid leave of absence…”
“Andrew, please…”
“Don’t ‘Andrew, please’ me! I deserve an explanation.”
“That’s why I asked you here…”
“What is it? Are you burnt out? Tired of fame and success? Or is it me? Do you want a different agent? Is that why you have kept me out?”
“Please, you have been like a father to me…”
“Here we go, stroke the old queens ego with father references.”
“Andrew! I’m trying to explain what’s going on! This is not going to be a short or easy conversation. Would you please go into the kitchen and grab the 1996 La Mondotte. I’ll get the glasses.” After a few minutes they sit down at the table and pour the wine. Stasia touches the older man’s hand, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” Andrew waits with concerned intrigue. “Do you remember that photo shoot in Iraq four years ago?” Andrew thinks quietly for a moment and then looks up with a puzzled ‘what-made-you-think-of-that’ look on his face.
--------------
Four years ago…
“Where are we going?” Stasia shouts over the sound of the helicopter.
“Nippur. It was an ancient Mesopotamian city southeast of Babylon.” Andrew was always a history-buff and loved these exotic locals.
“OH! Is that in Egypt?” Gisele shouts from the back row.
Stasia turns with a smile, “No honey, Babylon is in southeastern Iraq. They have made amazing discoveries there. I’ll let you borrow my National Geographic.” Gisele smiles back, she knew anyone else would have talked down to her and made her feel stupid but Stasia wasn’t like the other models. Stasia turns back, “Andrew, what is the location and what are we shooting?”
“A new summer line from Loewe,” Andrew fumbles with his palm pilot then looks up again, “The archeologists have found a ziggurat for Enlil the Sumerian storm god. We will feature you around the ruins. Real Indian Jones stuff.”
Three days later the shoot was over. The Iraqi laborers were given a long weekend to prevent them from being upset about the barely dressed American women. Meanwhile, the British archeological team enjoyed the change of scenery. As at the end of most big shoots the models had a party. It wasn’t very large of course, 6 models, Andrew, 4 stuffy old archeologists and their 8 graduate students. Stasia hit it off with one of the grad students and took him out to the dig site to fool around. While they were out there they ran out of champagne and the now very drunk young scientist left to bring back more. He had been gone awhile when Stasia decided to return by herself.
She got turned around in the dark mostly due to the large amounts of champagne. She stumbled into a huge semi underground chamber. The chamber entrance had statues of two enormous creatures each with the head, wings, and forelegs of an eagle and the tail and hindquarters of a lion. She had not seen this area of the dig before. While stumbling in the dark she slipped and her hand was cut on a jagged rock. Despite her efforts her hand bled a lot! As her blood splatter on the floor, the darkened temple began to illuminate with a strange blue light. As the temple grew brighter, she could see statues, cravings, and paintings of a the Sumerian storm god and his strange part eagle and part lion guardians.
Suddenly, the lights in the temple dimmed and a single beam of light shots forth from the altar. The beam animated an image of a Middle Eastern man in a turban, with a tightly braided long beard, wearing overlapping plate body armor, and a pair of enormous wings; it was the Sumerian storm god, Enlil. The image began to move and speak almost like a hologram. Stasia felt she heard more of the message in her head then by her ears. It spoke in what sounded Aramaic. Stasia could not understand a word of it. She tried to remember some of the words but it was hard to concentrate with the intoxication and exhaustion working against her. She passed out and awoke the next morning in her in her motor home. Andrew exploded into the motor home ranting about irresponsibility, scorpions, and of course his typical “I’m going to have a nervous breakdown” speech.
She thought, “Ah, Andrew’s post party/pre departure anxiety attack, just what my hang over needed.”
5 days of planes, trains, and automobiles and she is back in her Paris apartment. She’s ready for the first night in a bed since she left Iraq. Soon as her head hits her Scandia Down pillows she is asleep.
The worst pain she has ever been in! Stasia was sound asleep, now she is on the floor on her hands and knees, back arched towards the ceiling, being racked with pain. She can hear her Julianna Rae chemise being ripped apart! She looks over at the her full length standing mirror to see her back is a bloody mess as a pair of white feathered wings slowly and painfully bud from her back. Her fingernails crack, split, and fall off as bird like talons burst forth on each finger. Her legs become covered in tough yellowish tan fur. She watches in the mirror as the muscles on her body enlarge and become more defined. Her face is unchanged except her hair has doubled in length almost instantaneously. With the transformation complete, the pain begins to subside, Stasia stands in front the mirror staring at the creature she has become and the words of Enlil return to her memory as clear as crystal.
“I am Enlil. My time in this world is over. I bestow my final gift to the descendent of my high priest Akkad Ku-Baba. You who have sought my temple even after my entrance to the underworld, I give to you the power of my greatest creation. Though this power is yours to possess, it is not for you alone. I give this to you as a weapon to fight injustice, to defend the weak, and to punish wicked. This is my last act of kindness to this my once beloved world. With the strength of the Gryphon, no evil will escape your judgment! Ma'a Salama, child of Akkad Ku-Baba.”
----------------
Andrew, deep into his third glass and pouring a refill, “What happened then?”
“Well, I freaked. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want it and didn’t know what to do with it. I…”
“Wait! You’re telling me you are The Gryphon! You have been Paris’ mysterious defender that has been all over the cover of Le Monde for months?”
“Well, I…”
“That was you on the news that almost died breaking up that human trafficking ring in Luxembourg last week?” Andrew looks panicked. Stasia cuts her eyes to the left and down with a blush of embarrassment. Andrew puts his head in his hands, “I think I’m going to be sick!”
“I’m helping people, really helping people. I think I’m going to go full time with this.” Her old mentor, the veteran of the fashion world, sits unresponsive with worry. “Andrew, look at this.” Stasia pulls an invitation out of a tiny purse on the table. “It’s from the Justice League. I’m to be at their Los Angeles embassy by Saturday and I want you to come with me. Andrew… I need your help.”
Andrew smiles and nods, “Ok… but I’m not wearing tights.”
The Gryphon
Anastasia Griffin, top international model, sets her table for two in her Paris apartment. She’s tall with wavy brown hair and dark brown almond shaped eyes. Her face is heart shaped with rounded features and she has a well toned body with a light bronze skin tone. She looks up at the clock, ‘Almost eight o’clock, he should be here by now. Well, Paris is more crowded then it use to be. He’s probably just stuck in traffic.
This past year has been the hardest on my modeling career. I never thought anything could be more important to me than my work. I’ve always had a reputation for extreme sports. You name it, I did it, rock climbing, scuba diving, white water rafting, paintball safari. However, I never missed a shoot or a show until this year. Everyone thinks this is all about Gwen. I guess it is, but not the way they think.
There’s a knock at the door, ‘He’s here. I hope I’m ready for this.’ Stasia nervously goes to the door, takes a deep breath. She opens the door with a smile, “Bonjour, Andrew.” Standing at the door is a middle-aged man. He is dressed well and his hair is in tight fade with copious amounts of gel arranging the sparse strands on top in attempt to hide his impending baldness.
He enters, “I got your text.” his entire demeanor expresses his restrained anger. He looks around at the apartment almost surprised by its cleanliness. “What is this all about?”
Stasia evasively replies, “I picked up some le pain Poi lane today would you care for some? I…”
Andrew cuts her off, “Three months, Stasia! I have been worried sick about you! I haven’t heard from you. I have called everyone! Photographers, designers, the other models, and no one had heard from you. Your assistant said you had her cancel all your modeling gigs and then you sent her on a paid leave of absence…”
“Andrew, please…”
“Don’t ‘Andrew, please’ me! I deserve an explanation.”
“That’s why I asked you here…”
“What is it? Are you burnt out? Tired of fame and success? Or is it me? Do you want a different agent? Is that why you have kept me out?”
“Please, you have been like a father to me…”
“Here we go, stroke the old queens ego with father references.”
“Andrew! I’m trying to explain what’s going on! This is not going to be a short or easy conversation. Would you please go into the kitchen and grab the 1996 La Mondotte. I’ll get the glasses.” After a few minutes they sit down at the table and pour the wine. Stasia touches the older man’s hand, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” Andrew waits with concerned intrigue. “Do you remember that photo shoot in Iraq four years ago?” Andrew thinks quietly for a moment and then looks up with a puzzled ‘what-made-you-think-of-that’ look on his face.
--------------
Four years ago…
“Where are we going?” Stasia shouts over the sound of the helicopter.
“Nippur. It was an ancient Mesopotamian city southeast of Babylon.” Andrew was always a history-buff and loved these exotic locals.
“OH! Is that in Egypt?” Gisele shouts from the back row.
Stasia turns with a smile, “No honey, Babylon is in southeastern Iraq. They have made amazing discoveries there. I’ll let you borrow my National Geographic.” Gisele smiles back, she knew anyone else would have talked down to her and made her feel stupid but Stasia wasn’t like the other models. Stasia turns back, “Andrew, what is the location and what are we shooting?”
“A new summer line from Loewe,” Andrew fumbles with his palm pilot then looks up again, “The archeologists have found a ziggurat for Enlil the Sumerian storm god. We will feature you around the ruins. Real Indian Jones stuff.”
Three days later the shoot was over. The Iraqi laborers were given a long weekend to prevent them from being upset about the barely dressed American women. Meanwhile, the British archeological team enjoyed the change of scenery. As at the end of most big shoots the models had a party. It wasn’t very large of course, 6 models, Andrew, 4 stuffy old archeologists and their 8 graduate students. Stasia hit it off with one of the grad students and took him out to the dig site to fool around. While they were out there they ran out of champagne and the now very drunk young scientist left to bring back more. He had been gone awhile when Stasia decided to return by herself.
She got turned around in the dark mostly due to the large amounts of champagne. She stumbled into a huge semi underground chamber. The chamber entrance had statues of two enormous creatures each with the head, wings, and forelegs of an eagle and the tail and hindquarters of a lion. She had not seen this area of the dig before. While stumbling in the dark she slipped and her hand was cut on a jagged rock. Despite her efforts her hand bled a lot! As her blood splatter on the floor, the darkened temple began to illuminate with a strange blue light. As the temple grew brighter, she could see statues, cravings, and paintings of a the Sumerian storm god and his strange part eagle and part lion guardians.
Suddenly, the lights in the temple dimmed and a single beam of light shots forth from the altar. The beam animated an image of a Middle Eastern man in a turban, with a tightly braided long beard, wearing overlapping plate body armor, and a pair of enormous wings; it was the Sumerian storm god, Enlil. The image began to move and speak almost like a hologram. Stasia felt she heard more of the message in her head then by her ears. It spoke in what sounded Aramaic. Stasia could not understand a word of it. She tried to remember some of the words but it was hard to concentrate with the intoxication and exhaustion working against her. She passed out and awoke the next morning in her in her motor home. Andrew exploded into the motor home ranting about irresponsibility, scorpions, and of course his typical “I’m going to have a nervous breakdown” speech.
She thought, “Ah, Andrew’s post party/pre departure anxiety attack, just what my hang over needed.”
5 days of planes, trains, and automobiles and she is back in her Paris apartment. She’s ready for the first night in a bed since she left Iraq. Soon as her head hits her Scandia Down pillows she is asleep.
The worst pain she has ever been in! Stasia was sound asleep, now she is on the floor on her hands and knees, back arched towards the ceiling, being racked with pain. She can hear her Julianna Rae chemise being ripped apart! She looks over at the her full length standing mirror to see her back is a bloody mess as a pair of white feathered wings slowly and painfully bud from her back. Her fingernails crack, split, and fall off as bird like talons burst forth on each finger. Her legs become covered in tough yellowish tan fur. She watches in the mirror as the muscles on her body enlarge and become more defined. Her face is unchanged except her hair has doubled in length almost instantaneously. With the transformation complete, the pain begins to subside, Stasia stands in front the mirror staring at the creature she has become and the words of Enlil return to her memory as clear as crystal.
“I am Enlil. My time in this world is over. I bestow my final gift to the descendent of my high priest Akkad Ku-Baba. You who have sought my temple even after my entrance to the underworld, I give to you the power of my greatest creation. Though this power is yours to possess, it is not for you alone. I give this to you as a weapon to fight injustice, to defend the weak, and to punish wicked. This is my last act of kindness to this my once beloved world. With the strength of the Gryphon, no evil will escape your judgment! Ma'a Salama, child of Akkad Ku-Baba.”
----------------
Andrew, deep into his third glass and pouring a refill, “What happened then?”
“Well, I freaked. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want it and didn’t know what to do with it. I…”
“Wait! You’re telling me you are The Gryphon! You have been Paris’ mysterious defender that has been all over the cover of Le Monde for months?”
“Well, I…”
“That was you on the news that almost died breaking up that human trafficking ring in Luxembourg last week?” Andrew looks panicked. Stasia cuts her eyes to the left and down with a blush of embarrassment. Andrew puts his head in his hands, “I think I’m going to be sick!”
“I’m helping people, really helping people. I think I’m going to go full time with this.” Her old mentor, the veteran of the fashion world, sits unresponsive with worry. “Andrew, look at this.” Stasia pulls an invitation out of a tiny purse on the table. “It’s from the Justice League. I’m to be at their Los Angeles embassy by Saturday and I want you to come with me. Andrew… I need your help.”
Andrew smiles and nods, “Ok… but I’m not wearing tights.”
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