Not Lasagna

I found this recipe online and it looked good so I'm saving it here...

Ingredients:

9 lasagna noodles, uncooked

4 cups hot mashed potatoes

1/2 cup (1/2 of 8-oz. tub) Chive & Onion Cream Cheese Spread

6 green onions, thinly sliced

3 oz.bacon bits, divided

2 cups Shredded Triple Cheddar Cheese with a cream cheese, divided

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray a 13×9 baking dish with cooking spray.

Cook noodles as directed on package, omitting salt. Combine potatoes, cream cheese spread, onions, 1/2 cup bacon and 1 cup cheddar.

Place 3 noodles in the baking dish; cover with 1/3 of the potato mixture. Repeat layers twice. Top with remaining bacon and cheddar; cover.

Bake 33-35 minutes or until heated through, uncovering for the last 5 min. Let stand 10 minutes before serving

Arlin

Editor's Note:  This is the companion tale to my last story.  Both concern events from our recent D&D campaign.  Here is the story of my new character, Arlin the Sorcerer.

‘Go see what Palarandusk wants.’ Said the Duty Sargent, who also happened to be Arlin’s Uncle.  ‘The crazy old Dragon, over in Ieirithymbul, needs someone to help him with some sort of quest.  He probably wants you to help him get rid of some Dwarfs.  He has a ‘thing’ against Dwarfs.  It shouldn’t take long and it will be a good chance to distance yourself from that business in Neverwinter.’

Therefore the young Sorcerer, member of the Draconic Brotherhood, set out for Ieirithymbul and now finds himself on a totally unexpected path.  Arlin took quill to parchment.  He would recount his early life to the old Gold Dragon.  He found Palarandusk delightful, not at all addled as his Uncle indicated.

Dear Palarandusk,

It was an honor to make your acquaintance.  You are truly a legend to all Dragon-kind.  Thank you for your generosity and involving me in the story of your lost friend.  I will do my best to honor his name and continue his quest.  You asked for the story of my life.  I’ll try to tell this story well, even though it is a short one.  You deserve a much grander hero’s journey but I will try to do justice to this humble Sorcerer’s tale.

I was born to an honorable clan of Brass Dragonborn, the Durisil Clan.  I was also very proud to have been inducted into the Draconic Brotherhood right after my ascension to maturity.  My clan has traditionally been assigned to protect the most honorable clients of the Brotherhood, and I was ready to follow in their footsteps.

Over the next year, I honed my skills as a bodyguard.  Intimidation and persuasion became opposite ends of the same coin.  The Brotherhood also allowed for my training in the magical arts.  In this respect, I had affinity as a Sorcerer. 

After a year of training, I was given my first assignment.  It was supposedly an easy one.  I had to go to Neverwinter and help an elder member of the Brotherhood protect an eccentric Dragonborn in the Blacklake district of Neverwinter.  He was a wealthy gem merchant by the name of Faalbahraan.

I was excited.  I had been assigned as lieutenant to the legendary Brotherhood Knight, Hacari.  It was an honor.  I was surrounded in opulence.  Hacari was strict, but an excellent teacher.  I couldn’t have asked for a better assignment.  I was bringing honor back to my Clan. 

The first couple of months were very straight forward.  Training and sentry duties were the order of duty.  Hacari took me under his wing and I eventually was assigned to the detail to guard Faalbahraan directly.

Faalbahraan was an odd fellow.  He was a Blue Dragonborn from a Clan that I didn’t recognize.  All that Hacari could tell me about him was that he was wealthy, seemed honorable, but also seemed a bit paranoid. 

Days passed.  I honed my craft.  Faalbahraan even took notice of my training and gifted me a fine diamond in order for me to learn my Chromatic Orb spell.  Evenings were spent listening to Hacari’s tales and playing cards.  All in all, this was my dream assignment.

It all changed about a month ago.  Hacari and I accompanied Faalbahraan to a dark warehouse in a shady section of town.  Faalbahraan rarely left his compound and when he did it was usually to one of his shops in the merchant district.  At first we were told to guard the carriage, but Hacari insisted to accompany Faalbahraan.  I got to stay and guard the carriage.

A half an hour passed and I started to worry.  I used my Message spell to talk to Hacari.  ‘Is everything alright?’ I asked through the wire.  ‘No!  Our charge is a lie.  He’s evi….’ Hacari replied, but was cut off at the end.  Hacari was dead.

Two goons exited the warehouse and pointed at me.  ‘You!’ The big one said.  ‘Come here.  Your master wants to see you.’  They advanced on me with their hands on their weapons.  One more came through the door and drew a small hand crossbow and proceeded to shoot at me.  I think they must have thought I was an unskilled kid.  I immolated the one with the crossbow and my orb spell took down the larger of the thugs.  The smaller one managed to close enough to stab me with a dagger, but my shocking grasp allowed me to break away.  I was able to stealth into the shadows and make my way back to the compound.

When I returned, the place was in disarray.  The usual guards were replaced by humans.  This was not the order of watch.  I managed to ‘interrogate’ one of the perimeter guards.  It seems that Faalbahraan was in fact an evil crime lord who tried to pass as trustworthy in Neverwinter society.  He used the Brotherhood to maintain his ruse because the Brotherhood was beyond reproach.  It appears that the other crime families of Neverwinter needed Faalbahraan to exit the shadows and exert his dominance over the underworld gem trade in the area.  The Brotherhood guards were to be all killed.

I quietly exited the town and made my way back to the Brotherhood’s compound.  I relayed my tale to my Sargent, Uncle Abalan.  His sources confirmed my story, but they also brought back some disturbing news.

‘It appears you can’t easily return to Neverwinter.’ Abalan said.  ‘The Thieves Guild has a 100 gold death contract on your head.  I’m certain that Faalbahraan wanted to tie up loose ends and didn’t like the fact that you survived.’

That is where I’ll end this tale, because the next week, after my wounds healed, I was given the assignment to travel to Ieirithymbul. 

I hope that this tale was of some entertainment.  I am honored to pick up the mantle of your fallen friend.  I hope to return and tell you this story that will now unfold.

Sincerely,

Your humble servant Arlin

Sorcerer of the second level

Lieutenant of the Draconic Brotherhood

Mourning

Hyrsam, The Satyr Prince of the Archfey was having his usual late breakfast with a bevy of 5 nubile Wood Elf followers when he felt a distinct uneasiness.  ‘Oh, not Al.’ he said.  ‘I’m sorry my dears, we must cut breakfast short.  I need to go mourn the death of one of my followers.’

It was easy to find the cave.  The smell of his spells and the splatter of glitter was still in the air.

Hyrsam took a silver bowl from his waist pouch, dipped it in the stream exiting the cave, and said the incantation.  His scrying bowl showed him the battle where his little Gnome died.  ‘The kid had style.’ He said as the bowl showed Al obliterate the Goblin Leader in that dank cave.  Bad luck all around.  Why did that Paladin and that Bard use thunderous spells in a cave network like that?  Did they want to die?

Al did die a hero’s death and was true to his patron in the end.

Hyrsam was sad.  He said a prayer over the cave and set a ward that he thought Al would appreciate.

‘I better inform Palarandusk.’

Palarandusk (the Unseen Protector, previously the Sun Dragon) is a male gold dragon who lives in the Sword Mountains on the Sword Coast North. He is a great wyrm. Each time he kills, he weeps. He watches over the village of Ieirithymbul, regarding its gnome inhabitants as his children. He has prevented the invasion of the Clan Forgebar dwarves three times. He prefers to spend his time watching the gnomes and making sure they come to no harm.

One of his favorite Gnomes, was Annikko, or Al as he liked to be called.  Al was a novice Warlock who happened upon Hyrsam of all beings as his patron.  That amused the Legendary dragon to no end, that one of his Gnomes would take to support the Feywyld.  Al was a dreamer and belonged in the world outside of leirithymbul, so Palarandusk sent him to Neverwinter in order to seek his place in the universe.

‘To what do I owe this visit Hyrsam?’ Palarandusk said in a low gravely tone.

‘My old friend.  I bring disturbing news.’ Hyrsam said and continued to relay the story of Al’s death.

‘Oh that foolish child.’ Palarandusk cried.  ‘Why would he ally himself with such inexperienced adventurers?  They seriously pulled the entire cave network to one poorly lit room with those thunder spells?’  Palarandusk shook his head.

‘Thank you old friend.  Please leave me to grieve.  Yes, he did honor his patron.  I’ll have to tell his parents.  That won’t be fun.’

With that Hyrsam took his leave of the ancient Gold Dragon.

‘It is with great sadness that I must inform you of the death of your son, Annikko Ardabadkin.’ The old Gnome said to Al’s parents.  In fact, the old Gnome was Parlarandusk in disguise.  ‘He was killed protecting a group of Gnomes from a pack of Dwarven marauders to the East.’  Yes, a lie, but he wanted to fluff up Al’s heroism.  ‘Here’s 500 gold as a small thank you for Annikko’s heroism exhibited to our people.’

The old Gnome handed Al’s parents a pouch of gold from his hoard, a small thing really, but it may give them some solace.

With that task addressed, Parlarandusk needed to do something he hasn’t done in many years, venture out into the world.  The Legendary Gold Dragon took flight and headed West to the cave where his friend had fallen.

It was exactly as the Satyr Prince had said.  He must be getting old.  He forgot that whole part about Hyrsam warding the cave. When the dragon entered the cave, he was covered in a shower of sparkly glitter.  That produced a chuckle.  'That won't come off without a spell.' He muttered.  Parlarandusk whispered an incantation and the glitter fell off his form.

The legendary gold dragon surveyed the cave network and let out a thunderous cry, a cry of sorrow that could be herd for miles.  He then proceeded to purify the caves in fire.  Any evidence of goblins, wolves or bugbears are now black dust.  He left the ward intact.  A fitting tribute to his friend.

On his way home he flew low over the caravan that was Al’s former companions.  They don’t look like total idiots, even if they have a stinking Dwarf in their party.  Perhaps I can help.

Upon return to his home in Ieirithymbul, Parlarandusk sent word to the Draconic Brotherhood, an organization aimed at helping the good dragonkin, for some help.  The next day, a young Brass Dragonborn Sorcerer showed up.

‘I hear that you required someone to help out with a quest?’ Arlin said.  As long as it’s not in Neverwinter, I’m your Sorcerer.

Parlarandusk gave Arlin a map of the area and showed the young Sorcerer where to go.  ‘Be careful.  They are inexperienced but not totally inept.  They should help further your skills as well.  Help them with their quest.  I would love to hear more of your story, but you need to get going if you want to catch up with them.  Write your story down and send it to me.  You seem a good kid.’  Parlarandusk said with a smile as he tossed the sorcerer a pouch of gold and sent him on his way.

BBQ Chicken Ranch Salad

So we belong to this meal service called Home Chef.  We love it and have had many good meals from them.  One meal we absolutely love is the BBQ Chicken Ranch Salad.  It is super easy to make, so I thought I would share the recipe here.

INGREDIENTS for 2:

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

6 cups romaine lettuce (1 head chopped)

4 oz. Grape Tomatoes (halved)

1 Green Bell Pepper (thin slices, optional)

5 Cilantro Sprigs (minced)

1/2 Red Onion (thinly sliced)

3/4 cup canned corn kernels, drained

3/4 cup canned black beans, drained and rinsed

1/4 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese (optional)

1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese (optional)

3 oz. BBQ Sauce

3 oz. Ranch Dressing

2 Small Corn Tortillas

1) Roast the chicken breasts (with a pinch salt and pepper) at 400 degrees F for 12-15 minutes.  Set aside to cool when done and then shred with either your clean hands or two forks.

2) Cut the tortillas into strips and toss with olive oil and salt and then roast them in the oven for about 5 minutes.  Be careful and don’t burn them.  You want yummy crispy strips.

3) Toss in a salad bowl the lettuce, pepper, onion, and tomato

4) Into two big salad bowls, split the salad mixture (#3 above) then on top of that put half of the black beans in each bowl, half of the corn in each bowl, half of the chicken (shredded) in each bowl, and half of the cheese in each bowl.

5) Drizzle the ranch dressing and the BBQ sauce over each bowl’s contents

6) Top with the home made tortilla strips, garnish with cilantro and enjoy!

You Can Call Me Al

So, we are starting a D&D campaign this Saturday with our regular gaming group.  We just finished up a campaign where Jill ran us through a variety of supernatural maladies in a rather unique game system and now we are going to do a Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition campaign with James at the helm (I'm frightened).

So, I'm going to build a Gnome Warlock, a rather tall Gnome Warlock, with a bit of a surly attitude (chaotic neutral).  Here's his origin story.

Oh, before we go on, you might want to play the musical accompaniment in the background.

Annikko Ardabadkin is the given name of the 32 year old male Gnome Warlock who is traveling North on the road to Neverwinter from his village of Leirithymbul in the Sword Mountains.  This is an odd Gnome.  He’s dressed in what would be very plain robes for a Gnome, but that’s not the strange thing.  He’s tall for a Gnome.  In a dark room he could almost pass for a short Halfling.  But not even his height is the odd thing.  It’s his facial hair, or lack thereof.  Annikko, or Al as he insists to be called, is clean shaven except for a wildly bushy set of mutton chops to adorn his otherwise plain face.

Al was born into a rather prestigious family.  Supposidly, they are related to the hero of the village, the Gnome Ardabad.  Al didn’t care and would rather not be in the spotlight, but his family cared.  His parents had big plans for their son, Annikko.  He was to be the brightest Wizard this town ever knew, a true heir to the hero they are named after.

Al was extremely bright, but could care less about going to the Academy or becoming a Wizard.  He was ridiculed mercilessly as a child for being taller than his classmates.  Therefore Annikko didn’t have many friends and preferred to be alone.  He enjoyed tinkering and was adept as a silver smith.  During his exploration of the mines in and around his village, he befriended Palarandusk, the Gold Dragon who protected his people.  Palarandusk thought that Annikko was an odd chap and tried to encourage Al to make something more of his life.

One afternoon, while wondering in the Kryptgarden Forest, a place that Palarandusk definitely told Al to avoid because of the Green Dragon that lived there, Al ran into a little problem while collecting wood and reeds for a music box that he wanted to make.  Al got thoroughly entangled in a thicket of vines.  It was almost like a vegetative spider’s web and Al was the fly. 

‘Oh my, what have we here?’ Said the whimsical voice coming up from behind.  ‘Are you a small Halfling?  No, wait, you’re a Gnome!’ The voice continued with a guttural laugh.  Al flailed about and grumbled about the damn greenery and that no music box was worth this kind of trouble.  He barely acknowledged the presence of the other individual until he saw the hooves and the flowing brown hair.  At that point he just shut up and looked worried. 

‘I can help you little one’ said the Satyr ‘… but first I want to hear your story.’  Al proceeded to tell the Satyr his story in a way that only Al could.  He told a story of his life where he was ridiculed by his peers and lauded by his parents for the great things they expected from him.  He told of the simple life he wanted and of his only real friend, the Gold Dragon of the Sword Mountains.

‘Oh, so you’re a friend of Palarandusk?  He’s such a goody two shoes… and he does have a soft spot for you Gnomes.  Tell him that Hyrsam said ‘Hi’ the next time you see him.

So, I guess you’ll want me to get you out of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but first let me ask you something.  You don’t seem content.  Would you consider working for me?  I think you have potential, and while I would never want you to be a silly Wizard like your family wanted, have you ever considered an alternative quest for knowledge as a Warlock, specifically as one of my Warlocks?’

Al couldn’t think of a better vocation, and while he wasn’t a strong advocate for the Fey, he knew that if he went down this road his parents would surely be aghast.  This guy seemed interesting enough and ‘what the hell’, at least he wasn’t going to be a damn Wizard.  So, Annikko Ardabadkin became a Warlock and acquired Hyrsam, The Satyr Prince of the Archfey, as his Patron.

He eventually made it back to his village, sporting a drab set of black robes, a little more unkempt, but still shaven (except for his unruly mutton chops).  He packed his things and said his goodbyes to his stunned parents and his one good friend.

‘Hyrsam is a trickster, but ultimately of good heart.’ Said Palarandusk  ‘You should do well in your new vocation.  I suggest you travel North to Neverwinter.  If you ever need advice, I will be there for you my friend.’

And with that, Al started his journey North.

Guns in America

So, does the Obama Administration want to take your guns away?  Do Democrats or other Liberals want to take your guns away?  NO

No administration or mainstream political party in the United States wants to prohibit or eliminate gun ownership.  That is just a smoke screen and an obstacle to any type of discussion on any type of gun safety issue.

The current tragedy in Orlando is due to our view of gun safety in this country.  This is not about terrorism or immigration.  The idiot that killed over 50 people was born in Queens, NY and just as American as anyone else.  He was probably in need of mental therapy, but in reality, he was a fucked up, homophobic, volatile young male in our modern society.  He went out and bought two guns and shot a bunch of people.

Is that right?  Are we becoming numb to this type of thing?

Our society in the United States is currently one where you can go buy a military style assault weapon and shoot a bunch of people.  PERIOD

All of the talk of religion, hate, nationality (this last guy was American as are most shooters), is just bluster around a population that is desperately trying to find an easy excuse for any of these incidents.  The long answer involves a culture of permissive gun use.

What can we do about this?  The common sense answer is to develop some common sense gun safety regulations.  We should institute background checks, prohibit sales to questionable people (i.e., people on the no fly list), ban the sale of military style assault weapons to the general public, and institute a safety and training program that a prospective gun owner must conduct prior to the purchase of a firearm.

None of those suggestions would take people's guns away.  None of those suggestions would register your guns.  And, sadly, none of those suggestions will ever be enacted.  How many more people have to die before common sense can take hold?

Another Year Older and What Have I Done...

All my aspirations have shriveled in the sun
I'm crippled by guilt
Blinded by science
I've been waiting for tomorrow all of my life

So, it's another year in the books and I'm turning yet another page.  I have a lot in life to be thankful for.  I have great family and friends and I'm working on building a degree of serenity into my life.

Over the past year, I've been dealing with health issues and family dynamics.  I've tried to remain positive.  I've reconnected with many old friends and have come to realize that there are people in my life who's spirit has probably accompanied me through multiple lifetimes.  Yes, I'm a hippie at heart and I believe that our souls are old and that magic really does exist.

If you are reading this, you are probably someone I care about.  Thank you for being there.

Now onto the reflective part of our journey...  A nice thing about this past year is that I got closer to my extended family. I think that my sister and I are now closer than we've been in a while and it's great to see how others are doing as well.  The worst part of this (and Vicky bears the brunt of it all) is that my mom is deteriorating and not long for this world.  We are making the best of it, having her in an in-home hospice situation with 24/7 nursing care, however, it is sad.

At any rate, I'm opening the door on the 56th year of my existence and I see some positive roads ahead.  I hope that things work out and we see a year of peace, love, and prosperity (see, I am a hippie)... or Trump could get elected and then we are looking at Armageddon.

Interesting times ahead either way.