Brand Spankin New!

Well its the first post. I have 0 followers. A person of lesser ego might question the point of even writing this given the slim likely-hood of anyone ever reading it. But since that's a factor that applies to just about anything anyone ever writes it seems a waste for me not to bother.
In a sense this blog is meant to strengthen my own writing skill and prevent me from getting stale and bored with my ideas. If other people read and comment and criticize then I instantly have an audience to pander to and will be encouraged to produce something, if not of value, then at least of interest.
At this point I think it advisable to write a little about myself and what the hell makes me such a huge screaming deal.Tell the truth, not much. I'm a nerd from T.O. and at the present moment sit in a home that is not mine, in a pair of pajamas that don't fit. Infer what you will, it was the gerbil's idea. As you can probably tell from the punctuation and prose, I consider myself more a literary nerd than a science nerd, with the Star Trek and the computers and the chemistry and the horrible crimes against nature, glavin! 
It would be best to consider this blog a serial, since I will often be posting narratives and pieces of fiction I have written or found amusing. An example of the former:

I awoke amongst the bodies of my fellow greatswords, the sun in my eyes, blinding me. My body was sore in the places where the elfin blades had stung me and blood, my blood, was caked onto my armour at the joints. In fact I think that every point on my platemail, doublet and face was tainted red with blood, of friend and foe. Needless to say the stench was overpowering and the first thing I did as I rose to my feet was vomit into the open wounds of Klide, a new recruit out of the Brazen Swordsmen. His face and the faces of all the men of the second unit of the Nordland Greatswords stared up at me in a silent moan of agony. Or maybe that's just how I felt at the time.             My name is Dietrich Gottfried; I was a member of the Greatsword regiment of the Province of Nordland of the Holy Empire of Sigmar. That's a pretty convoluted sentence but it covers all the bases. The year was 2520, the year before the great war of Chaos. It was also the year I first encountered these elfin raiders from the west.             The battlefield was littered with bodies from both sides. Although, as I looked around, I could not find any trace of the female warriors I had slain. They had fought with the fervor of a worshiper of Khorn from the distant north. Many men of my unit were struck down around me as we fought. I myself killed three, maybe four, of the half naked women. As the last few moments of the battle leading up to my passing out flashed before my eyes, I became grief stricken. Tears began to flow from my eyes as my heart sank into my stomach.             The bodies before me were, all of them, lifeless and rotting. The crows had already come to pick at the flesh of the dead. I had to keep them from being eaten; I could not allow the memory of these men of Sigmar to be sullied. But I didn't have the strength to bury them all. Looking down at the men of my unit I decided to build a pyre. The first thing I did was collect the bodies. One by one I went through each of them. Pironz, Alf, and Gregory. Salizar , Kent , and Morty. Each of their death wounds was worse than the last, I wept as I pulled away what armour I could, closed their eyes and placed them in a pile a few feet from where they had died. None had taken that shameful step back. When the work was done I found myself making two very disturbing realizations; the first was that I had no fire with which to burn the bodies, and the second was that several of my men were missing. I had not the energy to solve both of these problems so I went in search of a flame.             After an hour of searching I found the lonely artillery train. The gunners long since abandoning their posts or else dead, though there were no bodies. The torches used for firing the cannons still burned and were staked into the ground. In fact I noted a number of horses used to move the cannons off in the edge of the field, loitering in the trees that bordered it. The men had gone, but nothing else seemed amiss. If they had fled surely they would have had the sense to go for their horses, riders or not.             I took the torch back to the pile of rotting and carrion flecked corpses. This was all that remained of the greatest unit of swordsmen to come out of Nordland. I said a prayer, commending their souls to Sigmar and Ulric in the hopes that they would see fit to return these men to fight along side the Emperor's holy armies in the End of Times. Then, in the face of the setting sun, I lit the Pyre and stood back.             I fell asleep that night choking on the fumes of my former comrades in arms.   We had been mustered in the town of Ferraville, just one week prior to the battle. It was a small backward village, used to the militarised nature of the north. Despite its distance from the coast it had been destroyed several times by invading marauders. We were sent there by the Elector Count in defence of a prophesied assault by the Norsii. On the first night the Greatswords had enjoyed an invitation to General Otto Von Richter's table. He had appropriated the Mayor's manor, a humble building built of wood and stone, but it suited the General's purposes.             Geoffery, Karl and I had entered the dining hall with the intention of sitting as far away from the nobility as possible. We were each born of farmers and, though we had come far in the noble traditions of the Empire military and wore our dress uniforms with pride, we were still peasants at heart. We sat far from the head of the table and found ourselves joined by some of the Reiksguard knights, traveling with General Von Richter as a personal favour from Kurt Helborg. Three of them sat down opposite us, their armour gone and replaced by rich linens and leathers. Even in the clothes of rich merchants they had the bearing of soldiers and killers.             Karl, ever the optimist, had smiled at them and nodded to them in greeting. "Hail to the knights of Karl Franz," he said.             The smallest of the three, a small man by no other means, answered first. "And the same to you brave warrior," he said. "My name is Cedric Geldenhoff, this is Claude Regdar on my right, and Aaron Von Hampton on my left." Each knight nodded, unsmiling to Karl.             "I have the honour of sharing the Emperor's name, Karl Saninguous, to my right is Dietrich Gottfried and to my left Geoffery Galdhielm," said Karl.             Sir Cedric smiled at Karl's enthusiasm. The six of us shared the mayor's wine and talked into the night. They were brave humourless men, having seen battle again and again. The houses of Geldenhoff and Regdar were not even of noble origin, the two knights having once been part of the Reikland Halberdiers, eventually knighted upon the personal recommendation of Kurt Helborg. They shared with us the tale of how our general obtained such high standing with both the Elector Counts and the Emperor.             As we returned to the barracks that evening, the three of us passing a wine skin between us, both Geoffery and I thanked Karl. "We would never have had the brazen to speak like that to the Emperor's personal guard," Geoffery said.             "Everyone like to have their praises sung," said Karl. Then he added in darker tones, "Beware of those who speak highly of you."             I tossed the skin to Geoffery who nearly dropped it in the dirt of the road. "Soldiers have no fear of praises," I said. "Those who wish us ill must attack with a sword, not words."             "Yes," Karl shouted. "And with a sword we will defeat all who wish us ill."             With that note Geoffery vomited into a ditch, and nearly fell in for his troubles. We laughed, and then blacked out. Somehow we made it back, but I cannot remember how.

Damn, that was long! Not too boring I hope, though. Its an adapted piece of fan-fiction and a story that, frankly has no point or ending. And now the latter:

My name is Rachel.I knew what was coming. I knew.I'd seen it in Jake's eyes.And you know what? I was scared.I never thought I would be. Cassie thinks I'mfearless. Marco thinks I'm reckless. Tobias . . .well, Tobias loves me.I guess they all do, in different ways. Jake,too. But Jake had to do the right thing.I felt sorry for him, you know? He's carried theweight so long. He's made hard decisions. Noneas hard as this maybe. I didn't blame him, noteven for a minute.But I was scared.

I guess no one wants to die. I guess everyone
is scared when the time comes.
We were so close. We were right there, right at
the finish line, I'd already survived so many times
when I shouldn't have. It seemed unfair. To come
this far, get this close . . .
Jake gave me the job because he knew that
only I could do it. Would do it. Ax might have, sure,
but he was needed for his skills. Me, I'm not the
computer genius. I'm the one you send when you
need someone to be crazy, to do the hard thing.
I don't know whether I'm proud of that or not.
I was Jake's insurance policy. He thought
maybe he wouldn't have to use me. He hoped,
anyway. But down deep he knew, and I knew, and
we both hid the truth from the others because
Cassie couldn't let Jake make that decision, and
Tobias couldn't let me, and those two, by loving
us, would have screwed everything up.
It was a war, after all. A war we had to win.
We hadn't asked the Yeerks to come to Earth.
They made that call on their own. They're a parasitic
species, not very big or impressive to look
at, just these snail-like things that can enter your
head through your ear. They have a capacity to
anesthetize the inner ear enough to allow them to
burrow through the soft tissue. It still hurts but
not as much as it should.
They dig their way straight to your brain and

then flatten themselves out, spread themselvesdown into the crevices, tie directly into yoursynapses. They take control. Absolute control.They read your thoughts, they sense youremotions. What your eyes see, they see. Whatyour tongue tastes, they taste. If your hand moves,it's because they moved it. If you speak, it is theYeerk who has spoken through you, made youinto a ventriloquist's dummy.Over the course of years they spread like avirus. Invisible. Undetectable.They are your teacher, your pastor, your bestfriend. They are the police officer, the TV newsman,the soldier. Anyone.Jake's parents had recently been taken; theywere human-Controllers — people controlled byYeerks.Jake's brother Tom, my cousin, had been aController for a long time. He was a powerfulYeerk. Jake still cared for him, still hoped somehowhe could be saved.Jake had sent me away with Tom.I understood. I approved. If Jake hadn't sentme I'd have gone anyway.Still, though, I was scared.I had power myself. We all did. The strange,unsettling power to absorb DNA from any livingcreature, to then alter our physical bodies to becomethat creature

I've been a whole zoo, you know. Everything
from a fly to an elephant. Bat. Owl. I've flown,
way up in the sky with eagle wings. I've flown up
there with Tobias. Way up in the clouds. If there's
something better than that, well, I never found it.
It's not magic. Just technology. Of course technology
always seems like magic at first. Haul a
tenth-century knight into the modern age and
show him your cell phone or your TV or your computer
or your car. Magic.
This technology came from the Andalites. The
Andalites are enemies of the Yeerks, and I guess
allies of ours, though right at the moment they
were more likely to annihilate Earth than the
Yeerks were. You know the old saying, "With
friends like these, who needs enemies?"
Anyway, it began with a chance meeting. An
Andalite prince named Elfangor crashed his
shot-up fighter in our path. Coincidence? No,
history. And a helping hand from the Ellimist
who of course never lends a helping hand.
Elfangor died, but not before he told us what
was happening and gave us the morphing technology.
I've been a rat. A dolphin . . . oh, man, do
they have fun. That rush when you're zooming
straight up through the water, when you see the
ripply surface of the sea, when you blow through

that barrier and soar through the air. . . And
then, splash! And do it all over again.
So, anyway, we decided we had to try and
stop the Yeerks. Jake and Tobias and Cassie and
Marco and Ax, who is Elfangor's little brother,
and me. We lived this secret life. We fought and
mostly lost, but we survived. We frustrated the
Yeerks. We ruined Visser Three's life, though he
still managed to be promoted to Visser One.
Maybe we did too good a job frustrating the
visser. The Yeerks grew tired of infiltration. Visser
One had been craving open war. And when we
blew up their ground-based Yeerk pool, the source
of their food, the center of their lives, it was
gloves off.
So much the better as far as I was concerned.
The time had come to settle things.
The Yeerks obliterated our town to create a
dead zone around their construction of a new
Yeerk pool. They were in a hurry. Without a functioning
pool they were getting hungry.
But there was a worm gnawing at the Yeerk
race. They had acquired morphing technology
themselves — in part because of what Jake
thought was Cassie's betrayal.
Cassie sees further than I do. Further than
any of us. She sees deep. The girl cannot dress or
accessorize to save her life, she's a girl who

wears manure-stained Wal-Mart jeans for cryingout loud, but Cassie sees connections and possibilitiesthat others don't.She let Tom take the morphing cube. And thatchanged everything. Some Yeerks began to see away out of their parasitic lives. The hunger-crazedTaxxons — a race held captive by the Yeerks —began to dream of a life without their Yeerk overlords.A revolution was brewing.At the same time, the Andalite fleet was closingin, ready to obliterate Earth as the only way tostop the Yeerk infestation. They had watched theYeerks concentrate their forces on Earth. Theywere ready to bring down the curtain: ObliterateEarth and the Yeerk Empire would be gutted.Too bad about those creatures who got in theway. What were they called? Oh yeah, humans.But Tom betrayed his visser, betrayed theYeerk race. Not for the sake of poor old humanity,but for his own ambition. He would escape withthe morphing cube and with a hard core of faithfulYeerk supporters. He would abandon the Yeerkpeople to the Andalite vengeance, destroy thehated Animorphs, and if H. sapiens was annihilated,too, well . . .That's where Jake saw his chance. Tom'sYeerk is smart. Jake is smarter.Now Jake and the others had control of the

Yeerk Pool ship. Tom had control of the visser's
own personal Blade ship.
Tom — the Yeerk in Tom's head — was closing
in for his final act of betrayal: He would kill
his master, Visser One, and doom his fellow
Yeerks. He thought we were already dead.
Surprise, Tom.
My favorite morph was the grizzly bear. Seven
feet tall standing erect. You cannot imagine the
power, especially when united with human intelligence
and knowledge. Compared to my grizzly
morph a human being is like something made
out of glued-together Popsicle sticks.
How many times have I felt that change as
muscle piles on muscle, as the thick brown fur
covers me, as the rail spike claws grow from my
fingers?
The grizzly bear and I had been through a lot
together.
I would go to grizzly to kill Tom.

 The first chapter of the last book in K.A. Applgate's series Animorphs. Its one of my favorite book series to this day. You can check out all of them  here: http://animorphsforum.com/ebooks/
Well, I think that's it... Yeah that's it. Next time I'll discuss why UofT freshmen(women) are not allowed in my bed.