(c)

(C) Copyright SNOWbear Productions. T h a n k Y o u F o r V i s i t i n g

HIDDEN Easter Eggs

 

 I am placing several Easter Eggs throughout my GAME. Just in the event, a Player is reading this, (*wink* *wink*) I will not say what these "Hidden Links" actually go to.  The inquisitive contestant will have to explore and discover those for themselves.  
   After the game, I plan to write notes of Lessons Learned [here].


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TREK LIVES

Vacation 2016

    I'm on my two week Staycation.  We were going to move into another apartment complex, but since funds did not work out that way, we just renewed our lease for another 13 months.  With no money I am focusing on laundry, detail cleaning, writing/ editing on my Story; but today working on some websites for a new Game.

   Lady Snow and I are going to go see the new Star Trek: Beyond movie.  Actually looking forward to it.

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Luke Cage

Treasure map



Legion

CHARACTER

Character is what is in us we neglect or build upon.  Taking notes from my Leadership Training Camp booklet.  I took certain words and added them to My Game; just something to think about as we live our lives.
Tolerance was one of these words...


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Obscure Oddities

NEAT THINGS. . .

A New Kind of Watch...



AtLas 



Things...



ODDITies



CuRioSIties



Antiques





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Write what you know.

   
    I am not a writer.  I call it being a "scribbler".  I scribble, jot and write notes.  I have not 'published' anything.  I have friends that are published.  I want my scribbles to be 'perfect', and not even out of the re-editing phrase. Tolkien disliked "allegories".  I love "allegories and metaphors" LOL even if I am not always able to see them for what they are; I'm not much of a writer, barely ever a scribbler.

    My "epic" tale is a story about a story within a story.  My life story, actually.  My fantasy tale is really inspired by The Bible, and The Lord of the Ring's Middle-earth lore, (Silmarillion is my favorite, actually).  My story is about the elves who did not leave Middle-earth and invertedly devised a cultic religious system in their wake.  Several hundred years later,the main character leaves the religion and writes his life story down in a scroll.  He gives his scroll to his granddaughter and The Book as well that had become distorted.  His granddaughter survives the Great Flood of Noah and hides the writings of the Nephilim age.  Many hundreds of years fly by till an archeologist discovers the ancient writings.  My novel is called JACOB'S CATHARSIS, that alludes to The Watcher's Book of Books.


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The Truth


   The seed of truth was hidden a long time ago and its history written over and them absently forgotten.  Na-Ethra encountered Felladros and told him.  But his account was strangely missing with an obvious glaring void.  The reader must wait nearly 875 years later when we read of Fayendar's account and how remarkably the same character of Na-Ethra reveals what that miss part actually was that Felladros neglected to mention...

   The truth of the matter was, that not only was Na-Ethra very ancient, and blessed with the grace of longevity but reveals herself to be one of the original Watchers.  Na-Ethra is none other than Lyreah herself, the very sister of Seraphim and granddaughter of Lord Symodare.  Even more remarkably this revelation comes just before her brother, Seraphim is found to be alive and well on the isle of Eul, prior the construction of Ra`More.


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The Waking Dream

 The Tale of Felladros om`Kathos

   Felladros, the son of Adoromeir and Anathray a daughter from Kathos; was tall and fair skinned.  His voice was angelic, and hair a golden hue.  He was soft spoken, gentle; but firm and unmoving in his ways.  Felladros was the youngest son among four sisters: Cellabrin, Corabrin, Mellasdom and Feairdom the eldest. 
   Felladros lived in the southern port city of Kathos, the hometown of his mother.  At the age twenty-seven, he said, “I desire much to see the larger world father and to explore Eriduah’s realms and its peoples for myself.  The old tales are but rumors and memories of others and I burn to make my own among them.”
   “Seems you are bound to do as you desire; forgetting the concerns of your mother.  So, go in peace my son.  Only return when your joys are renewed with thoughts of home and your experiences plenty and worth the sharing, as you will always have worth among us even if you do not venture far from home.”  Adoromeir smiled at his son.
   Then his father added, “Only in your ways be ever mindful of Eru-Illuva that his grace may enlighten your heart.  Ours will be a void until you safely return unto your mother’s side.”  With such blessing and farewell to his sisters and lastly his mother’s loving embrace, Finaldros left his hometown to explore the larger world.


   Felladros had grown up hearing detailed stories of Mithar’s grandeur from his father, and of Lindol’s sinful nature with its many pagan temples, from his mother.  But Felladros wanted to see them for himself.  He would return home by that route he promised his heart, before seeing his family again.  Yet he headed for Sinjar to meet the exiled Witch Kimashe for himself.  He wanted to see the famed desert fountain of Uruk and the mythical talking stone faces of The Hidden Gorge, he wanted to meet the dwarves of Mount Ipstha and hear their solemn songs for himself.  Felladros desired to know why things were the way they were and understand why people fell silent when such things were mentioned in conversation.  What had become of the Halflings, and why did no one speak of the departed elves?  Felladros was filled with questions as he left the port city of his upbringing that clear summer day.

   Felladros rode Salom, one of his father’s horses.  For many years Adoromeir had lived in Mithar as a Scribe, but as the city grew he found breeding horses beyond the city wall most appealing.  On one trip to Kathos for trade, he had fallen in love with a merchant’s daughter and thereafter remained.
   After a few miles up the northern road to Mithar, Felladros turned and headed northeast.  To his right, the sparse trees had begun to collect as the western edge of the Kinderval Forest. 
   Spruce and many oaks grew on the beginning slope that became the Blue Mountain range that later birthed the triple mount of Jebul.  His morning ride was uneventful beneath a clear sky.  By late evening the thoughts of Felladros were squarely upon the childhood tales of Sinjar.  The moon was out, and her glory full overhead.  One by one the stars appeared.  At nightfall, Felladros found a clearing near the southern tip of Falcon Creek which he knew cut through Sinjar.  It would be his guide north for another day’s journey.  He gathered stones for a ring and tender to start a camp fire.
   “Well, Salom what a grand adventure we’ve begun girl.”  The horse grazed without reply.  After a meal of bread and salted fish, Felladros prepared a bed and slept through the night.

   Awakened at daybreak he announced, “Salom, shall we go meet the Witch Kimashe today, and what odd things lay before us?”  An owl called and then another answered.  He found it rather strange that only now did he recall there were no such sounds throughout the night.  Crickets and other birds called as if sound had suddenly come to him.
   Looking into the woods, Felladros felt compelled to change his plans from going to Sinjar to exploring Kinderval instead.  It was an ancient forest with rumored history and myths of forgotten tales, but the young man desired such experiences of his own to tell, for ‘what is life without stories’ he thought to himself.

  The trees grew more and closer together, their canopy began an entangled roof overhead and the floor bedded with a carpeting of leaves, root, and brush.  The more he continued on into the peaceful woods the quieter it became until only the slightest of breezes rustled the branches overhead.  Into the deafening silence of the forest Felladros slowly rode Salom forward.  On and on they went amid the gathering trees as the woods grew denser.  After sometime Felladros dismounted and guided his steed on foot.  The beauty of it all was most enchanting to the young explorer.
   Just as a butterfly winged-past before them, Salom suddenly stopped in her tracks refusing to go any further.  Thinking she might have injured her leg Felladros searched to no avail the cause of her disobedience.  Being unmoved he looked about for another cause and saw only a single deer far ahead deeper amid a clearing.
   “Whatever is the matter with you, girl? First, you stop at a butterfly, and now a deer, as though you have never seen one before.” Felladros laughed to himself petting the horse’s neck.  Upon looking back he saw now that the deer had drawn closer and a gathering with it.  Seeing no better time for a hunt, Felladros slowly reached for the bow across his back.  Stringing his arrow ever so slowly the hunter took sure aim.  The deer turned its head sideways in a strange manner, a breath later the arrow was let loose in a startled fashion.

   “Stop,” was the astonishing voice that frightened Felladros!  Frozen with wide eyes the young man stood as still as his horse.  Looking about he saw no one else.  Salom began stepping backward pulling against the reins as the gathering of deer approached.
   Again the doe spoke in the common speech, “Be not afraid.”
   The young man stammered, “But – how could?”
   “You are not mad, oh son of man,” the deer reassured him.
   Seeing the two of them conversing, Salom was content enough to begin grazing.
   “I must be mad or in a dead sleep,” Felladros refused to believe in a talking animal.
   “Neither,” the deer spoke again.  “I am called an Elodreen.”
   Felladros was overwhelmed with fright, “Only from childhood fables was that name ever uttered, and then evoked by exhausted parents to quell their unruly children!  Be gone foul beast of these wicked woods!”
   The deer made an almost laughing sound, “As all children can be at times, oh frightened son of man.”  She then turned back and called to the stag behind her among the following herd.  He led the group away back into the direction they had come.
   Feeling childish, Felladros likewise acknowledged her trust in him by saddling his bow and quiver. 
   “Over there, son of man shall you find a fully stocked pond of fish by which to feast upon.”  At that, she began digging at the ground with her front hooves, and added, “My deepest gratitude for not slaying me and my kin.
   As the Elodreen spoke, Felladros noticed for the first time that a fringed, beaded pouch hung about the deer’s lean neck.  He said, “I am Felladros, son of Adoromeir of Kathos.  I hail from the sea port only two days south of here.  Pray, tell me whatever are Elodreens, for we call you ‘deer’s?”
   “My name is Na-Ethra.”  After she had dug out a wide area, she added, “I was not unlike you, Felladros for I had wandered far from home as well and sought company here in the Yellow Woods and gave into my special gift.”
   “’Silent One,’ that is a perfect name indeed, and what is your gift if again I may ask,” Felladros inquired.
   “About this hole, place stones and from such tender as those there build a fire for yourself, so as to keep back the night and I shall enchant a story for you like none other.”  He complied and did as she said.  From his pack, he took bread and ate as he waited for her to begin.
   “Behold, my gift and enchantment talents!”  As Felladros watched in amazement she was transformed before his very eyes.  Only her body and legs remained a deer, for from its lower neck, she had grown and changed into the torso of a naked woman with slender arms and an Elven face.  She was still covered with a light coating of pale hair and her brows arched high with deer features.  She was beautiful and stunning to behold.  Long red hair covered her high breast, and her brown eyes were a radiant grey-blue.  The fringed pouch remained slung across her chest and shoulder.  Felladros sat down on a fallen tree trunk with no words to speak.  She said, “This is an Elven-Deer, my friend.”



   From her pouch, she withdrew a handful of powder and scattered it across the blaze between them, “Cast your eyes upon the flame and behold the truth of grave matters that were and some yet to be!”  The flames leap high in the darkening forest as the quiet man watched in silence.  The flame became a spiraling column with fireflies deep within of changing colors and embers circling about.  To the sleepy eyes of Felladros there seemed to be moving images within the dancing flames and voices and whispers all around him.  She and other spoke as figures came from the shadows and others stood transformed like her.  They spoke of things and times and events Felladros was at a loss to recall or explain.  But in his heart of hearts, he knew they were true.  Suddenly the fire died down to all but fading embers, leaving only a plume of smoke which rose up.  Her voice alone he heard, “Come what may, all shall pass away and dreams alone shall stay.”


   Noon-light fell on Felladros as he woke the next day.   The fire was cold, and but for Salom he was all alone.  Seeing the fringed pouch resting against the ring of stones told him he had not dreamt his encounter the night before.  Gathering himself he ventured a little further and indeed found the pond filled with fish.  After a meal at the ring of stones, Felladros decided that the yellow woods of Kinderval had gifted enough, for him.  He departed the way he had first entered the forest and continued northward to Sinjar.


. . . 

   

The Shadols (JUDGES)


   I, Adoromir, son of Beirdan the Watcher, went unto the Nasilian camp called Slavath, and inquired more about the people beyond the gated wall of Mithar.  I desired to gain knowledge of the customs that made them who they were.  I came to the tent of Mair-i-than the second himself and asked how it was that he was chosen to be Judge.  This is what he told me.

   The first of the ruling Judges over the five original Shadol clans was named HaRos Shadol, the son of Haradlos Nasil.  He decreed that only those of his line would forever hold the office of Judge.  So, all the lines of the true Judges come from him alone.  It was HaRos who also stated that the Judge alone could have multiple wives, even though he himself only had one.  If his first wife bore only daughters then taking another wife was acceptable, until a son was given him.  Yet, if he was to lay with the first wife again and she issued a male off-spring that child would see the ruling office, if the intended one passed away in death or was without an heir.  No matter how many wives the Judge had it was the first wife who was considered most beloved, and it was she who ruled the household, second only to her husbandman himself.
   Upon the male child’s twelfth birthday they were gifted the tattoo of their office.  The elongated face of a skull was marked between the shoulder lades  on their back.  Beneath the skull tattoo was the name of their fathers, leading back to HaRos Shadol, the first Judge of the Nasilian people.  Along with the skull and the list of family names was the moon sign on the left shoulder and star alignment on the right shoulder of their birth.  Below the listing of name was the totem animal that guided and protected them in the spirit realm during their decision making.

   Haradlos Nasil was the father of HaRos Shadol, the father of Yalla-deth Shadol, the father of Nuyal-amon Shadol the father of LosKelos Shadol.  Shadol means “Judge”, and Kresmon was the fifth Shadol to Judge over the people of Nasil.   Kresmon Shadol was the first-born son of LosKelos.
   YeithMan-elya was the only wife of Kresmon Shadol and she gifted him with three first-born sons at one time.  The triplets were named: Kilos, Thelos and Minlos.
Judge Kresmon feared that his frail, new-born sons would not live to face full maturity into adulthood, in the harsh lands of south Harad.  Fearing their childhood deaths, he permitted all three of the boys to receive the same tattoo of the Shadol’s office upon their backs.   So it was that Kilos, Thelos and Minlos were so marked at the age of twelve, and began training by their father in the art of war, history and manhood.

   However, when Shadol Kresmon was discovered dead in his tent at the age of ninty-seven, all three of his sons assumed the leadership office of the  Judge.  They were the only one to ever do so as a council and deliberated as a single voice.  For each spoke in turn or would complete the sentence and thought of the other; a true marvel to behold it was said.



Order of the Scribes


      1 TO list the Kings would also be to list their Royal Scribes for to see one you saw the other.  They were also called The Silent Sisters.  They were forbidden to speak unless spoken to, and if they did so only at the behest of the King himself; they were all girls.  Their age began at eight years, and solely in that office for the service and record of the King.  A sworn mandate was made in open court by the second Crown that no one, not even the King himself could touch or molest them upon penalty of death, as they were charged with recording history good or ill.
  2 SISTERS, as they came to be called, were strictly trained by the Scribe-Mothers.  They were former scribes in the service of the Kings.  Chosen and trained as early as six years of age, The Sister Scribes were a devout class unto themselves.  Their memories and words were a reflection of the law of the King they served and those before them as a reference of law before all.
  3 ONLY after they had fulfilled their office could a Sister become a wife if she so chose; however, relations with a man was strictly forbidden under her training and law of the third king.  There was no requirement as to how many could serve a single king or for how long.

      2 THESE are the listing of the Order of Scribes:
   2 THE first scribe of Mithar was the Watcher, Adoromeir, son of Lord Beirdan and the Lady Holmath.  The second scribe appointed was the Watcher, Nolmithlon; a sailor, shipbuilder and apprentice of Cirdan.  He in turn was the Head Master over Lydia.

   3 LYDIA was the first to be called a Sister unto the Scribes, and those under her tutelage were thereafter called The Order of the Sisters.   She was called ‘Mother’ by her students.  Only those students who had been hand chosen and served as Sister-Scribes were raised to Motherhood to train other ‘daughter’ scribes.  Sisters who were not chosen to be royal scribes lived in the tower of Varlendur and worked as copyist, transcribing The Grey Book.  It was later called The Book of Books and The Watcher’s Book.  They were the keepers of the Law and highly respected and feared among the people in conversation, for they could always be chosen by the King. 


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Lydia


THE BOOK OF KINGS: Legandriel
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      1 TWO weeks after he became King, Legandriel began having nightmares which plagued his waking thoughts.  He had no wife.  Nor did he share the details of the dream with anyone, but thought in his heart, ‘I shall see the trustworthy for myself.’  On the seventh day of still having the dream, King Legandriel called his court together.  As he laid the distress, but not the details of his dream before them, many pondered but none gave answer unto the matter.  The king grew impatient with his silent court and ordered them to be fed in silence.
   It came to pass that all of them were made to be most astonished.  A cook from the Nasilian kitchen came before the king, without summons nor tray in hand and openly addressed the court, "My Lord, forgive my boldness in approaching this fair court –"
   Being gentile Legandriel replied, “Speak for all are welcomed to do so in this matter good woman.”
   Beside her a small eight year old child had been led to stand nearby.  The woman continued, “Noble sire, this is my only daughter and youngest among twelve boys; her name is Lydia.”

   Before the king gave word or rebuttal, the girl spoke boldly, “Gracious Lord of the Fair Ones, hail the truth today.  You said you saw much in your dread but gave no details; but now, let your court now hear what you saw.
   “There was a white shore, not unlike that before the Bay of Luhun of Mithar oh great King.  Alongside that sacred shore were walking cranes with outstretched necks.  Some were fat and others most lean, but all white in their glory.  One by one did each of those nine swans lift off in flight, never to be seen in those mortal lands again."

    The gathered court of the king murmured among themselves in disbelief, some with outrage that a child spoke so freely in like manner unto the crown.  Yet others perceived a change in his lordship’s continence that indeed truth was spoke but wondered as to its meaning.
   Again, the child Lydia continued unmoved from her boldness unto Legandriel, “Then, you counted, oh king by the sea some crabs breaking forth from the beach sands.  Of these thirteen you saw, one at a time taking their turn to measure the length of that shore and then back into the sand return.
   “It was then when the last crab began to walk forth that a great wave overtook the crab, the white beach and very rocks of all the lands.  For the world was naught and lost unto the living.”

   It was then that King Legandriel fell back into his royal seat, and in grave silence pondered all the spoken words of the child before him.  Then he said, “Child do you understand I have all authority to do with you as I see fit; grant you reward or chain you in a pit of despair?”
   Looking without smile and unimpressed Lydia replied, “With all due respect my lord you have no power over your dreams nor did you even know their meaning.”  Legandriel said nothing to this.
   Lydia continued, “After the nine Mitharian Kings shall fall from grace, thirteen Judges shall arise to brutal power.  It is as it shall be, even so the flooding waves shall purge the world of all your ages from time itself.”

      2 LEGANDRIEL changed that in that moment on that very day.  Rising from his seat amidst that gathered court said, “Come closer child.”
   Lydia complied.  The King told her, for all to hear, “Because you are so remarkable and fearless  I am commanding Nolmithlon to begin training you to be my royal scribe.  From this day forth shall every king of Mithar be served by a scribe such as you.  May it also befall the penalty of death should any molest or harm you or them you teach, for your records shall be unhindered and held as undisputed truth.  The Scribes shall be record keepers that even the kings who follow shall not impede.  The king is not above the law, nor any other he holds before the people as such.”


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63


I was born in 1963.  Ten years from now I will be 63 years OLD.  I am striving to leave a legacy of something worth while, at least in writing that is manifested and hand held and worth pondering.  It is a sum of my life, joys and fears and things that influenced me.  A duality of sorts for the "story" is in two parts but of the same whole: JACOB'S CATHARSIS, and THE WATCHER'S BOOK of BOOKS.



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VENTURE INTO MY WORLD

VENTURE INTO MY WORLD
The Watcher's Book of Books