Lost a Post

Unbelievable....can't get to the post I made.

Topics:
1. Work
2. Business
3. Qabala

Surly Malcontent

Surly malcontent...I think it's the steriods. I'm not handling the barrage of bullshit that seems to be washing up on this shore. The house leaks, ruined flooring, taxes, changes at work, what seems to be perpetual PMS...and the fears that something is wrong...

Ok, I think I'll focus on the good stuff for about 5 minutes:
1. At the moment, I have money in the bank. Not enough to do the repairs I need, but enough to make it another few weeks if I don't have any weird bills hit before my next paycheck.

2. Qabala - Started studying the very basic basics. Baby steps. Baby steps. Oddly, this time around (and yes, I've tried to read it with a closed mind or a wild mind or some faulty, immature mindset before, and failed) I'm keeping up and finding an interest. I'm far from stupid, but I wasn't prepared emotionally just yet.

3. An enlightening conversation with my youngest. Took 3 hours and felt like there may have been a bit of progress. Perhaps the housework will step up just a tad. He did mow the lawn today. After all, he doesn't work, doesn't have to contend with outside school and is loaded with cool stuff to do and friends to do it with...which makes housework all the less appealing, I know. It's just that, for a kid who's had hundreds of dollars lavished on him in the past two months and expects college to be miraculously paid for in ohhhh....two weeks, it's been disheartening to have him smart off about helping when I'm working as much as I am to PAY for the lavishments.

4. Work...I still have a job and it pays well. What more can I say?

5. Writing - no, no new projects beyond playing around with Space Opera. I need to read the stuff more. Most of the writers I have any 'free book' access to are all military sci-fi/s.o. Sighs. I know there are other kinds.

6. Jeep's running good even if it needs new tires, new top, a clutch...wait.

Ok, enough trying to cheer myself up. I think I'm gonna end up playing my own devil's advocate until I'm falling over from exhaustion.

It's 11ish now and time to dress for work and fly.

What a stupid blog. No fun links. No sex. No cool crafts. I gotta get a life.

Stuff of the Moment - a List

1. Answers.com
2. Space Opera
3. 7th Sea
4. Work and it's Foilables
5. The Business
6. Weight Gain
7. Prednisone

Damn I am tired! I have no way of saying just how tired, but I'm eat up with it exhausted. I'm sticky from working but nothing compared to the Duck and Paul, who made it a worthwhile day.

Three toilet repairs, one replacement, a ceiling fan replacement, and an air conditioner unit. Bucks from my pocket, but progress is a good thing.

I want the house together...useful...done.
Soon.

Well, I came online to discover that Bonded Hearts had been completely changed by it's owner. Odd. Is that like cutting your hair when you're upset then regretting it immediately?

My life has been in a turmoil inside my head for days now and I'm ready to toss up my hands and apologize. I lost hundreds of dollars in overtime tonight not working and I'm pretty pissed. Wellbutrin won't help this, I'm afraid.

Off to post in some games for lack of things to do and the fact I've become acutely aware of my foilables and mistakes made. Call it guilt posting, but it gets my mind lubricated for other writing. I'm still way into Space Opera musings.

The George Lucas AFI awards thing helped.

New Events

Getting divorced on Friday...

It's 100 degrees here today with a heat index of 110...

I need a new dress...

And, and...I'm starting to game more online and possibly in real life. I'm also making things furiously for the business and can't wait to have the site online. Had the license for YEARS but never took it online. Kinda dumb of me, huh?

Got helper bees and I'm off to sew. Thinking patchy, hippie things....

Strange Dreams

Had this ultra-complex dream sometime between 0400 and 1000 about being either an archeologist or paleontologist and studying these incredibly ancient burials of a type known as "Dresden Man". (I Googled with only German results.)They were buried in these two small side tunnels off of a central rectangular dig. An earlier team had located them and cleared the areas (one of which was 'hidden' or temporarily blocked by several layers of old newspaper put there by the previous team). The tunnels were illuminated somehow and the bodies were lined up buried and mummified head to foot lying on their backs.

There was no sign of rituals of mummification. It was as if they were freeze dried. It was a family (father, mother, grown-ish children...) all greater than six feet tall it seemed, with Neandertal features and black hair chopped in these 'little dutch boy' pageboys. They had brownish yellow teeth and were either nude or dressed in primatively tanned leather pieces.

There was some weird followup to this dream about the military being involved and then Michael, Cassie and I all searching another cave like area for religious discoveries of the primal plane (real time, real world) variety.

Scott doesn't want to play Amber, so it looks like Holly's might be a possibilty for Jamie, Michael, Wayne, Dan, Holly, Sly, Candace and lil' old me to get together and play. Scott's "it's too subjective...I want to play Pendragon or Swashbucking" speech just lost him some mondo sales. Oddly enough, I usually bought something every time I went down. Now...I don't make special trips cause I know I'll buy. I love the Green Dragon, but I'm not up for spending $$ on magickal books right now. Supposedly he's got in $4000 worth of new stock, but I'm feeling mighty poor about now.


I know this size pic could screw up my blog, but I'm experimenting with something...

*Note to self: experimentation partially successful! That'd make a nice 'Benedict' trump.*

AmberVerse

My Uncle Benedict? I'm thinking of playing Amber again. I love diceless roleplaying. It's like a great, huge Improv machine with friends around a table and as the Games Mistress I have to stay ahead of them all and outthink them. What a challenge! The average IQ of the folks at my table is usually 160, so it's a mind-f*ck of phenomenal proportations. I personally know two of them have IQ's in excess of 170 and that makes it all the more fun. No intimdation included.

I play all the NPCs (well, nearly all...the players can have companions) and Bethany, daughter of Corwin and Dierdre. It's funny. Corwin was the legitimate heir to the throne, having been born on the correct side of the bedsheets (Eric was a bastard son...sorry Uncle...glad you're dead. You always looked at me in a creepy, predatory way. Too bad you had to die.) and his eldest would be the most likely to rule. Oh no way. Bethany would arch an eyebrow and glare at any soul who suggested she seat the throne of Amber.

So...as much as I'd like to carry on with this diatribe, I have to go get meds (Vancomycin) and my Jeep. More later?

If Magick Were At My Command

If magick were at my command, I'd be healthy, wealthy as would all of my beloveds.

I went to the doc and he kept me off of anti-inflammatories 'til July. Shite!

DL-ing music...

 

 

Crochet and Lord of the Rings

Last night, in a fit of nervousness, I started crocheting yet another bag. So many of these get ohhh, um...10 rows in and then my dragonfly brain flits. It's a simple one, really. Remember those Sac bags of a few years ago? Ugly, nylon things. Well, this is close to that look only colorful and not in an electrically neon way. The only colors they seemed to have that held any interest was red. It was a hideous red, too. Not sexy, erotic lipstick red. Nope. It was a cheap, orangy, tainted red. Ew.

I have a purple bag in progress for a sweetie that lovessssss purple. The other one is varigated deep jewel tone, blue, green and perhaps topped with one more dark color. It's my hope to finish this one with some semblance of dignity, perhaps decorate it with freeform crochet thingies and sling it over my shoulder.

Watched Nat'l Treasure yesterday and savored my NIN CD. My true, back-o'-the-skull obsession was tickled by my Twin mentioning Boromir from LOTR. That got the old lizard brain all tanked up on Eomer and I'm such a mess. Damn I wish that whole movie thing didn't have to end. I'm certain the actors were grateful to get on with life after years of filming, but the addict in me wants more, More, MORE! I'll try to come back in here and posty a few pics of my obsessions, but here's a treat for now:


There are some wicked crochet blogs out there and most LOTR blogs are defunct. *Sobs* Well, for some of us the road, in whatever form, goes ever on...

Phantom and NIN

Wtf do these two things have in common? Well, truth being, NIN has a new CD out today as well as Phantom and Nat'l Treasure hitting the local Best-est Buy.

Ugh, pains in my guts still. I dislike this illness gig immensely!

Beltane

Beltane has arrived!

(Ok, I admit I have no idea where the pics come from...sorry for lack of credit!)



http://www.witchvox.com/holidays/dt_holidays.html?a=usma&c=holidays&id=2765

Excerpts from this very cool article:
"Beltane -- Holiday Details and History

by Christina Aubin

Beltane is the last of the three spring fertility festivals, the others being Imbolc and Ostara. Beltane is the second principal Celtic festival (the other being Samhain). Celebrated approximately halfway between Vernal (spring) equinox and the midsummer (Summer Solstice). Beltane traditionally marked the arrival if summer in ancient times.

At Beltane the Pleiades star cluster rises just before sunrise on the morning horizon, whereas winter (Samhain) begins when the Pleiades rises at sunset. The Pleiades is a cluster of seven closely placed stars, the seven sisters, in the constellation of Taurus, near his shoulder. When looking for the Pleiades with the naked eye, remember it looks like a tiny dipper-shaped pattern of six moderately bright stars (the seventh can be seen on very dark nights) in the constellation of Taurus. It stands very low in the east-northeast sky for just a few minutes before sunrise.

Beltane, and its counterpart Samhain, divide the year into its two primary seasons, winter (Dark Part) and summer (Light Part). As Samhain is about honoring Death, Beltane, its counter part, is about honoring Life. It is the time when the sun is fully released from his bondage of winter and able to rule over summer and life once again.

Beltane, like Samhain, is a time of "no time" when the veils between the two worlds are at their thinnest. No time is when the two worlds intermingle and unite and the magic abounds! It is the time when the Faeries return from their winter respite, carefree and full of faery mischief and faery delight. On the night before Beltane, in times past, folks would place rowan branches at their windows and doors for protection, many otherworldly occurrences could transpire during this time of "no time". Traditionally on the Isle of Man, the youngest member of the family gathers primroses on the eve before Beltane and throws the flowers at the door of the home for protection. In Ireland it is believed that food left over from May Eve must not be eaten, but rather buried or left as an offering to the faery instead. Much like the tradition of leaving of whatever is not harvested from the fields on Samhain, food on the time of no time is treated with great care.

When the veils are so thin it is an extremely magical time, it is said that the Queen of the Faeries rides out on her white horse. Roving about on Beltane eve She will try to entice people away to the Faeryland. Legend has it that if you sit beneath a tree on Beltane night, you may see the Faery Queen or hear the sound of Her horse's bells as She rides through the night. Legend says if you hide your face, She will pass you by but if you look at Her, She may choose you. There is a Scottish ballad of this called Thomas the Rhymer, in which Thomas chooses to go the Faeryland with the Queen and has not been seen since.

Beltane has been an auspicious time throughout Celtic lore, it is said that the Tuatha de Danaan landed in north-west Connacht on Beltane. The Tuatha de Danaan, it is said, came from the North through the air in a mist to Ireland. After the invasion by the Milesians, the Tuatha faded into the Otherworld, the Sidhe, Tir na nOg...."

More gleens:

"The Hawthorn Tree - Queen Of The May
By Glennie Kindred
(Originally published at Beltane 1997)

The Hawthorn (Crataegus mongyna), Whitethorn, Haegthorn, Quickthorn or May Tree, is one of the most wild, enchanted and sacred of our native trees. Known as the "faerie tree", this beautiful, often gnarled, thorny little tree can live to a great age, and can be found growing in the wildest and harshest of spots. It grows all over Europe, Greece, North Africa and Western Asia and is rich in folklore and legend.

Even growing in a town, the Hawthorn retains the spirit of the wild, and some town Hawthorn hedges have probably been there for hundreds of years - long before the town built up around them. The beauty of this tree in full blossom touches all our hearts and holds a special place in our affections.

The keyword for the Hawthorn is the heart, and this is reflected in its herbal uses as well as its symbolism and place in folklore and legend. It has a dual sexual significance, as a symbol of abandonment and fertility, linking it to the Beltane celebrations and revelries, and a later overlay in British folklore of misfortune, chastity and sexual abstinence. This later overlay is now being transformed again, coming forward out of the confines of puritanical Christianity to become once again a positive symbol of the heart through its ability on a subtle level to open the heart to spiritual growth and love.

The Hawthorn's many names reflect its uses and properties; Haegthorn is Anglo-Saxon and refers to its use as a hedging plant, and Quickthorn referring to the live hedge or boundary formed by living plants of Hawthorn. Whitethorn refers to the lightness of its bark, contrasted with blackthorn's black bark. In many old tales it is simply referred to as the Thorn, as in "Oak, Ash and Thorn", a particularly potent combination of trees if found growing together. Often it is viewed warily, because of its thorns, and because it is said to be the haunt of faeries, elemental and enchantments.

The most common folk name we have for the Hawthorn is the May Tree. The may blossom appears on the tree at the beginning of May in the south of England, at the time of the Beltane or May Day celebrations, when people and houses were decked with may blossoms ("bringing home the May"). The popular rhyme "Here we go gathering nuts in May" is thought to have been sung by the young men, gathering not "nuts" (which do not grow in May) but "knots" of may blossoms for the May Day Celebrations. These celebrations included a May Queen, representing the Goddess, and a Green May, representing the God and the spirit of the new vegetation. It was known as the "Merry Month" and folk went about "wearing the green", decking themselves in greenery and may blossom. Everywhere, everything is bursting with life and fertility at this time, and Beltane is a celebration of this potential. The cutting of the may blossom had great significance and symbolised the beginning of new life and the onset of the growing season.

The ceremony of the maypole and maypole dancing, is symbolic of renewed life and sexual union. The pole itself is a phallic symbolic, the discus at the top from which the ribbons are tied, represents the female principle, and the wearing of ribbons represents the union of the male and the female and fertility. In some parts of the British Isles, it was the custom to erect a may tree outside every house, or for young men to erect a may tree outside the home of their sweetheart. In folklore, the common practice was to bring a new pole into the village every year representing that year's incarnation of the vegetation of nature spirit. The dancing round the pole would include a green man who would dance around the outside of the maypole dancers. This represented the tree-spirit or nature-spirit who would bless the celebrations and bring fertility to the land. Although it is tradition for the maypole to be a may tree, I look at the Hawthorn and nowhere do I see a straight tall trunk suitable for dancing round in the tradition of the maypole, and I think there is here a much older ceremony of fetching a living tree into the village from the woods. This living tree would still have its resident treespirit or dryad within the tree, and it would be the tree-spirit itself who was central to the ceremony, and would be honoured and enlisted by the villagers to ensure fertility of the land and a good harvest.

This ties in with another old folklore custom of tying ribbons or shreds of ones clothing or rags onto may trees at this time, especially where they grew near wells. These were said to be gifts for the faeries or elementals who were thought to dwell by Hawthorns. Old May Day fertility rites used the sun symbol daisy to protect the participants from the faerie folk who are particularly active then. A twig from an Oak, an Ash and a Thorn, bound together with red thread, was another protective charm, as was the use of bells (on the legs of the dancing Morris men). These customs show the fear and the potency with which country folk viewed these ceremonies, and the Hawthorn, and reflect how watered-down they have become over the years..."
This is from:
http://www.whitedragon.org.uk/articles/hawthorn.htm

Other Historical Oddities:
From PUNCH, The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 102, April 30, 1892, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand

TO THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY".
(A HYMN OF HONEST LABOUR.)
After the Proclamation of the Anarchist Manifestoes, (With Apologies to the Author of the magnificent "Hymn to Proserpine.")
["For the third time the International mobilises its battalions.... Already the mere mention of the magical word 'May-Day' throws the bourgeoisie into a state of nervous trembling, and its cowardice only finds refuge in cynicism and ferocity. But whether the wretch (the bourgeoisie) likes it or not, the end draws nigh. Capitalist robbery is going to perish in mud and shame.... The conscious proletariat organises itself, and marches towards its emancipation. You can have it all your own way presently; proletarians of the whole world, serfs of the factory, the men of the workshop, the office, and the shop, who are mercilessly exploited and pitilessly assassinated.... For, lo! '93 reappears on the horizon.... 'Vive l'Internationale des Travailleurs!'"—Manifesto of the May-Day Labour Demonstration Executive Committee.]

Have we lived long enough to have seen one thing, that hate hath no end?

Goddess, and maiden, and queen, must we hail you as Labour's true friend?—

Will you give us a prosperous morrow, and comfort the millions who weep?

Will you give them joy for their sorrow, sweet labour, and satisfied sleep?

Sweet is the fragrance of flowers, and soft are the wings of the dove,

And no goodlier gift is there given than the dower of brotherly love;

But you, O May-Day Medusa, whose glance makes the heart turn cold,

Art a bitter Goddess to follow, a terrible Queen to behold.

We are sick of spouting—the words burn deep and chafe: we are fain,

To rest a little from clap-trap, and probe the wild promise of gain.

For new gods we know not of are acclaimed by all babbledom's breath,

And they promise us love-inspired life—by the red road of hatred and death.

The gods, dethroned and deceased, cast forth—so the chatterers say—

Are banished with Flora and Pan, and behold our new Queen of the May!

New Queen, fresh crowned in the city, flower-drest, her snake-sceptre a rod,

Her orb a decked dynamite bomb, which shall shatter all earth at her nod;

But for us their newest device seems barren, and did they but dare

To bare the new Queen of the May, were she angel or demon when bare?

Time and old gods are at strife; we dwell in the midst thereof,

And they are but foolish who curse, and they are but shallow who scoff.

Let hate die out, take rest, poor workers, be all at peace;

Let the angry battle abate, and the barren bitterness cease!

Ah, pleasant and pastoral picture! Thrice welcome whoever shall bring

The sunshine of love after Winter, the blossoms of joy with the Spring!

Wilt THOU bring it, O new May Queen? If thou canst, come and rule us, and take

The laurel, the palm, and the pæan; all bondage but thine we would break,

And welcome the branch and the dove. But we look, and we hold our breath,

That is not the visage of Love, and beneath the piled blossoms lurks—Death!

A Society all of Love and of Brotherhood! Beautiful dream!

But alas for this Promise of May! Do not Labour's Floralia seem

As flower-feasts fair to her followers? Look on the wreaths at her feet,

Flung by enthusiast hands from the mine, and the mill, and the street,

Piled flower-offerings, thine, Proletariat Queen of the May!

And what means the new Bona Dea? and what would her suppliants say?

Organised strength, solidarity, power to band and to strike,

Hope that is native to Spring,—and Hate, in all seasons alike;

Mutual trust of the many—and menace malign for the few.

Citizen, capitalist,—ah! the hours of your empire seem few,

An empire ill-gendered, unjust, blindly selfish, and heartlessly strong

For the crushing of famishing weakness, the rearing of wealth-founded wrong.

Few, if these throngs have their will, for the fierce proletariat throbs

For revenge on the full-fed Bourgeoisie which ruthlessly harries and robs.

'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste for the imminent fray,

For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the thought of this Queen of the May.

The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in shame and in filth!

The harvest of Labour's at hand!—The harvest; but red is the tilth,

And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the swift-wielded sickle that strives

For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems agog for the reaping of—lives!

Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force will ye meet

With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden the field and the street?

Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look close, and beware!

There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the evil old serpent not there?

[pg 211]
THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."[pg 213]
The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in blossoms, are hatred's old arms.

And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true hearts, that succumb to her charms?

Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that flicker like fire,

The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall feed your desire.

More than these things will she give, who looks fairer than all these things?

Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red horror that rings

Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and the roar are the voice

Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose rule you would bid us rejoice.


That's about it for now...
I'm painful, exhausted and my son is having to tie bits of ribbon to our Hawthorne for me...Sad lot for a HPS, but I'm proud that he'd do it for me.


To the Queen o' the May,
Blessed Lady...
Thank you for every breath.

FREEDOM

Wheeeee! Or "Oh, ouch, no sudden moves....owww, oww..."

I was released from Torture Central (hospital) after a week. They can't help it, but I was sick, sick, sick and it took that long for me to get to the point of being able to venture home...I am not well, cannot return to work, but I'm not stuck in a room that I didn't feel well enough to venture out of...



Now where is a fine, braw Scottish laird when a girl needs one?

D-I-V-O-R-C-E

Well, I signed the papers...now the court date is at hand. Or will be...

Alec Trevelyn is on USA...Bond, James Bond. Ohhhh...What a delicious couple(t). I have to say that he's far sexier than Bond and I adore Pierce Brosnan's Bond. Sean Bean is so wicked. When he threatens to rape the Russian programmer (Natalya), it's pure sex. No T&A, no simulated humping and he made you wish you'd been taken captive! Big death, little death...you'd probably be privy to both. (Hopefully, not in that order.)

It's getting warm here and my downstairs AC is screwed. Damn! It seems I'll have to fork over somewhere in the neighborhood of a grand for a repair and $4K for a replacement. That majorly sucks.

For the moment, I'm sitting here watching this movie and being glad I have at least one more day off before working yet another weekend. They tried to call me into work tonight and I couldn't. I was just too achy. Very sore hips and body.

I have bought cards, Mod Podge, scissors, and brushes. I have a Previews (comics) and magazine collection started. I'm going to make divination cards from them or ATC (trading cards).

Here's a treat...Thank you Ian Fleming!

Cullen, Creedy...It's a Good Thing

Cullen

Now, Girls and Boys...

I'd let this Scotsman steal me anytime.

 

Frontier Doctor?

Now, I've scrounged through my photos and managed to find a couple with this look on Mr. Urban. I like having images in mind for a character so that I can write descriptions. Usually it's a blend of people - real or imagined - and it will be this time, as well. I had considered a man who resembled Gerry Butler in "Timeline" but I think I'll save that for a certain NH that I know ("NH" btw means "Ninja Hoyden"). This is such a lovely pic. I have several of him dressed similarly and he's scrumptous.

Off to sleep in prep for work. Three night shifts starting tonight....ouch. I'll be tired come Monday.

Maybe I'll get a bit of writing done?

Attorney Types

I wonder if this pic might suffice for an attorney in the early days of logging barons and purchased brides? I must ask the opinion of an expert...ohh Twin????

Dapper Sean

A beloved of mine is writing a story about a man of status. This pic reminded me of something she might find...inspirational. *wicked grin*

Price of Milk

A precious friend of mine in Canada sent me “The Price of Milk” with the ever-delicious Karl Urban (who has a fantastic ass, btw!) and I certainly enjoyed watching it. It’s a modern faerie tale type story with a moral and a happy ending. Odd tale. Won several international film festival awards, etc….more excellent reviews than bad…

Truth is, one reviewer called it a “Quirky little comedy…that will leave you smiling when you think back on the film.” He’s right. It’s definitely strange but every character, with the exception of the old Maori woman (who was like a bizarre faerie godmother/keeper of fates/Snake on the Tree of Life), was engaging. I loved the youthful, optimistic Mysticism of what could be Eden on a milk farm.

I’m beginning to believe all New Zealand Film Commission sponsored movies are like film majors valiant attempts at a graduation project. Interesting, but full of strange twists and engaging characters.

‘Course, I love indie films, so ‘it’s all good’.




I’m hoping to get a bit more than 3 hours of sleep tonight or I’ll be an exhausted wreck tomorrow. I also know that I have other things to do. If I go and stay up til 10pm then it’ll be 3am before I get to sleep. Such is the way of things when a night owl tries to alter their natural circadian rhythms. Once I hit the prime of nighttime, then I’m up for the duration.

Someone sent this to me in an email once. I haven’t the foggiest idea of its origins, but I thought it might be fun to share.

Rules for Writing a Fantasy Novel
1. The heroes will lose every battle, but win the war.
2. It will only rain when the heroes are exhausted and running out of food.
3. The heroes will only have horses if they are going to climb a mountain, where they won't be able to ride the horses anyway.
4. The enemies will be killed by the slightest mishap, but the heroes will live through anything.
5. The hero and heroine will fall in love on the last three pages.
6. Magic (if available) will be used intelligently by the heroes, but will be wasted by the enemies. 7. You will annoy the reader by placing numerous re-hashings of prior events in the first four chapters of the second and following books of a series.
8. Start off occasional chapters with a description of one of the main characters engaged in some activity, without using their name. The reader will feel exceptionally smart when they figure out who it is before you reveal it.
9. Racial prejudices will be ignored by the heroes, but will be a factor in the downfall of the enemy.
10. The enemy will be able to predict all of the heroes actions, but will be powerless to stop them; the heroes will foil all of the enemies plans through sheer dumb luck.
11. The heroes will be able to survive for weeks without feeling the call of nature, unless they are in a cell.
12. Should the heroes be captured, the enemy will gloat and reveal all of their plans.
13. Should the heroes be captured, they will be kept in a small cell with a bit of straw but no windows, and will only be fed bread and water at irregular intervals. Despite this, they will be able to tell how much time has passed.
14. Magic swords do not glow except when the heroes have no other source of light, or if it is dark, and they need to be captured for the plot to advance properly.
15. The heroes, after making a noise when trying to remain silent, will stand perfectly still for several minutes. The enemy will not, however, have heard it. (Alternate scenario: the enemy will hear it and search the area immediately (rather than guessing the action of the heroes, and waiting for them to move again, thereby giving themselves away). The heroes will quickly hide, their sounds masked by the noise of the enemy's search.)
16. Only describe a monster you have created once; call it by name any other time it appears, even if the character it is spotted by did not see it the first time or have it described since.
17. At least one of the heroes will be the second best in the world at something. The only person better will be one of the enemy, but they will nonetheless be defeated by the hero at the climax.
18. Everyone in a position of power is corrupt, and is subject to bribes.
19. Rulers of any large territory (eg. Kings, Emperors, etc.) are either terminally stupid or insane, and could not suppress a rebellion if their life depended on it (which it usually does).