Cranky The Troll Speaks
Every gamer I know of has been waiting for this for the better part of 3 years. It’s Ken St. Andre’s magnum opus, with expert editing and beautiful art by Liz Danforth & Steve Crompton, – even if you DON’T play table-top Fantasy Role-Playing Games, the humor, history, and settings discussed make this a wonderful purchase at about $20 US for the PDF, (available at RPGNet.com) or about 40 for the bound edition. If you ARE a gamer, this IS the edition you’ve been waiting for – and far less expensive than the latest offering of D&D. EVERYTHING is here, and the support materials are ALREADY becoming (or ARE) available.
In other stuff, I’ve been playing host for the past three days to my GirlFiend’s cats, Houdini and Bowie the Psychotic, while the GirlFiend moves. Houdini has been well-behaved, toddling to the front for dinner, and trying to socialize with Elph, Raisin, and me. Bowie…
Ah, well, when he got here, Bowie crouched in his pet taxi and exhibited symptoms of having gone tharn, while Raisin glared at him from top-of-couch. When the door was opened, he gave a strangled-sounding hiss, and promptly found his way here (to the digital Trollcave) where he hid in the closet for a few hours on top of a box of comics on my shelf. Following dinner, which he refused, he decided that under the desk was where it all was happening, behind the footstool. Houdini, Raisin, and Elph all sauntered past to get a good look at him, and Houdini actually camped out across the hall, staring at him until 10 pm, by which time, Bowie was five steps past homicidal. He spent the night there, hissing, spitting, and shoving the footstool at passers-by. Beginning in the morning, I “chased” him out of there, fearing for the safety of my hind hooves, whereupon he decided under the tea-table in the living room was suitable for a fort.
That didn’t last. No, not for long. He next esconced under the bed, which lasted for most of the second day, until he apparently decided he HAD to use the litter-box. I was asleep at the time, it being after midnight on the 1st of August (having gone to sleep July 31st), and was awakened by the horrendous racket that ensues when one cat pursues another to the top of the laundry machines in the hall.
The racket didn’t stop. Bowie had overshot his mark, and landed behind the dryer, where he was hung up on the power cord, and so panicked that he was trying to dismantle both machines by paw. I tried to call the GirlFiend – those of you who know me, know I have arthritis, and moving large contraptions has become painful – but for the third time since I’ve known her, she apparently decided to abandon her phone someplace FAR from where she was sleeping. I left a rude message after the second attempt, and went to move the dryer myself, which hurt my right shoulder and back. Thankfully, Bowie took the hint and retired to parts unknown for the rest of the night.
In the morning, I discovered WHERE, when trying to retrieve a roll of tp from the cabinet under the bathroom sink. He has since been found lurking under the bed again, in the bedroom closet, in a canvas grocery sack, and again, under the bathroom sink, this morning. I DON’T know whether the poor thing has eaten or drank since arriving, or even if he knows where the food may be found. He’s been in a continuous state of shock, trauma, and rage since arriving.