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Goblin Diaries, Vol 13: Escape!

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  From the 09/20/24 newsletter: 25th Day of Winter Moon, 1218 th Year, Human Age of Magic … I’m still unsure of the date, but I now have hopes that I can verify and track it accurately, for I have escaped! I am writing this from a temporary hiding place in a copse of cypress trees in the great swamp that forms the northern border of the castle in Zemburith, where I spent my first night of freedom. I waited until morning to make this entry, afraid the glow from the screen of my journal might draw attention from some sentinel in one of the high castle towers. My escape opportunity presented itself yesterday afternoon when the physician returned to extract my infected tooth. He was unable to get permission to take me to his offices in the city, which had been my hope, but he was accompanied by two of Mazuom’s mind slaves who shackled me and took me to another room in the castle where there was at least some light for the physician to work by. The “operating room” they had chosen
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Goblin Diaries, Vol 12: A Toothache and an Escape Plan

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 (from the August 16, 2024 newsletter) 23 rd Day of Winter Moon, 1218 th Year, Human Age of Magic … Again, the date I’ve entered is an approximation. Measurement of the passage of time in my dark and windowless cell is becoming more and more difficult. But after what just happened today, I see my first ray of hope. About a week ago (I think) I had a wild idea. My jaw had been hurting, and I suspected I might be developing an infected tooth. I was considering whether I should try to remove it myself or go through the painful process of letting it decay and grow back on its own, when it struck me. Why not ask to see a dentist? Not that its necessary, or even that I’d let some hack of a human ‘doctor’ put his hands in my mouth, but if I could get out of here—or even get someone to open the cell door—my chances of escape would increase exponentially. So, I complained to one of the guards, and I told him a goblin toothache could be fatal under my present circumstances. I hinted th
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Goblin Diaries, Vol 11: Imprisoned!

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 From the July 19, 2024 Newsletter: 10 th Day of Winter Moon, 1218 th Year, Human Age of Magic … I cannot imagine finding myself in more dire straits. I have been abducted by the warlock Mazuom and stripped of all my possessions, along with any means of contacting the Protectorate for help. It seems that, as soon as I left Holly’s Landing, the faeries removed Ka’il Idreth from its hiding place, and the artifact called out to the nearest human with Fae blood. The warlock now holds the Sword That Sings and, as I write, draws power from it. The very thing I set out to prevent has happened, and I am powerless to do anything about it. I write this entry from a cell in the dungeons beneath the tower that watches over Zemburith. I’m a prisoner, with only the clothes I was wearing when Mazuom attacked the village of Milabua. My clothes are already turning to rags under the harsh treatment I have received. By my reckoning, it has been three days since the warlock torched the village and
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Focus on AI

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 AI (Artificial Intelligence) is an unavoidable hot topic these days. It's hard to go anywhere online without running into it in some form or another. Virtual assistants exist on most browser platforms. Its applications for science research and business management are up and running everywhere. We're constantly bombarded with ads for its use. AI is here to stay--and it's only going to get more prolific. Even though it's becoming familiar--thus breeding contempt--it's still scary. It can out-think and out-perform every human on the planet, and that should make anyone justifiably nervous. As a sci-fi writer with an overactive imagination, I admit to constantly searching faces in a crowd for Terminators sent back in time by the machines that are surely taking over in the not-to-distant future. Perhaps a more realistic fear is that AI will soon replace humans in nearly every creative endeavor. For an artist--which I call myself on a good day--that's an End of Days s
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Goblin Diaries, Vol 10: The Village of Milabua

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 (From the 05/16/24 newsletter ...) 4th Day of Winter Moon, 1218 th year, Human Age of Magic … After my unfruitful confrontation with the faerie Floreze in the Forest of Baeth, I’ve been consumed with mounting concerns for the prospects of completing my mission and, indeed, for my own personal safety. However, I think I’ve found a good place to lie low while I contemplate my next move. A day’s journey by cargo barge south of Holly’s Landing, I parted ways with the friendly and well-meaning barge captain. We were nearing the great swamp into which the River Wiste disappears before emptying into Lake Ozua. Once the barge entered the swamp, there would be no turning back from continuing on to the city of Zemburith, where the warlock Mazuom holds sway. So I had the captain drop me off on the west bank of the river, and I began to make my way south through the jungle on foot, avoiding both the swamp and the warlock, in hope of finding a likely spot for a semi-permanent camp on the sout
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Goblin Diaries, Vol 9: Holly's Landing

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 (From the 03/14/24 and 04/18/24 newsletters ...) 1st Day of Winter Moon, 1218 th year, Human Age of Magic … Holly’s Landing, named for the giantess Holly Trill who runs the inn and trading post there, is deemed the only safe place to dock along the stretch of the Wiste River that runs through the Forest of Baeth. Having met the alleged giantess—I suspect she is not at all what she seems—and having had a most disconcerting encounter there with the faerie Floreze, I would argue there is no safe place to spend the night in that Enchanted Forest. The inn and trading post reside within a walled castle, which looms above the thick canopy of willows that line the western shore of the river. I think the purpose of the fortress is less for defense against an attack from the outside—the forest and river are sufficient barriers to an invasion, and there’s nothing much there to attract invaders—and more a means of keeping unwilling residents in. The long dock extending into the river from
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Goblin Diaries, Vol 8: I Hate Boats

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(From the February 16th, 2024 newsletter ...)  1st Day of Witches Moon, 1218 th  year, Human Age of Magic … I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the foot of a goblin is a shining example of the gods’ design. Wide, flat, and thick-soled, it distributes weight perfectly throughout a stride. No matter the surface, nor the weather, we goblins have no need for cumbersome footwear. We can carry many times our weight over long distances. Give us a road, a path, rocky terrain, or shifting sand, we will walk upon it and revel in the sheer joy of movement. Notice I said walk—the mode of travel the gods of Urgule intended. There are no roads, no paths, nor even maps of the terrain between Azurith and the Forest of Baeth that I can find. There is only the River Wiste, winding its way south through the Enchanted Forest on its way to Ozua. I hate boats. Yet, if I wish to investigate the two faeries, Fauche and Floreze—to verify they are flooding the black market here in Azurith with neleh berry wine,
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