<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540</id><updated>2024-10-04T21:00:20.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From Neptune&#39;s 12th Moon</title><subtitle type='html'>A Flash Fiction &amp;amp; 3D Art Extravaganza… O.k., maybe not an extravaganza</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>144</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-5393605072651196554</id><published>2012-06-03T02:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-06-03T02:40:22.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fulfilling a Mission</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokrkOKJwGsZO38SpX75w_QJdON34z7_KmMLDk0fxFdwWAUkiE4d6rWBdHFWzG_lsldK-8HxBfXPG_ldrrdsOmAPRLc9Im1-d1SCMPjzvxvOHhyQnAx4KQ9LduOX1dXAnhAE0sT2vBSttp/s1600/Diana&amp;amp;Girl.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;225&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokrkOKJwGsZO38SpX75w_QJdON34z7_KmMLDk0fxFdwWAUkiE4d6rWBdHFWzG_lsldK-8HxBfXPG_ldrrdsOmAPRLc9Im1-d1SCMPjzvxvOHhyQnAx4KQ9LduOX1dXAnhAE0sT2vBSttp/s400/Diana&amp;amp;Girl.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Fulfilling A Mission&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Slight Summary 4:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Memories, stones on the water, the wooden planks on the dock, eating fish by the lake. &amp;nbsp;After the cyborg received damage from the security robots, a series of illogical patterns flooded it&#39;s mind. &amp;nbsp;The organic portion of Diana8U5-329-J&#39;s brain, what was left of it, had harbored many memories from it&#39;s former life. &amp;nbsp;At one time, Diana was human.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Concussion bombs went off in several directions, as accompanying assistant robots went into defensive mode in order to protect the cyborg and the girl that the cyborg had saved from the building. &amp;nbsp;They had been hidden, and they had been waiting for&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J to emerge. &amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J was confused. &amp;nbsp;It looked around itself. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It noticed the bombs going off; splintered wood and torn metal were flying in every direction. &amp;nbsp;It looked down and noticed the girl yelling at it. &amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J could not hear a thing. &amp;nbsp;It felt a tug at it&#39;s damaged left arm, as the girl tried to pull the cyborg from the battleground.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Diana8U5-329-J noticed the assistant robots battling the guards, then turned and analyzed the quickest route out of the area. &amp;nbsp;Through it&#39;s shaking visuals, it noticed a barricade a few yards away. &amp;nbsp;The cyborg stood uneasily, and led by the girl, it moved quickly. &amp;nbsp;Gathering itself,&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J took the girl in it&#39;s arms, and headed for the barricade as fast as it could.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Memories kept flooding it&#39;s cybernetic mind, stopping it several times in the midst of the battle. &amp;nbsp;the damaged cyborg&#39;s survival mode kept it moving.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Once behind the concrete barricade, the cyborg put the girl down. &amp;nbsp;It glanced at the girl, who had been yelling at it all of the time. &amp;nbsp;The cyborg could not hear a thing, so it analyzed the girl&#39;s lip pattern.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Robots? Soldier? A soldier?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Diana8U5-329-J glanced to it&#39;s right. &amp;nbsp;It knelt down and looked through the thick smoke. &amp;nbsp;The cyborg noticed that a soldier had arrived, but it was not a regular soldier. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An ally! An ally had arrived to assist in the mission!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Unfortunately, it was not an ally.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With great speed, Maxton1EA-349-H rushed towards&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J, and rammed it into the barricade; impacting it into the concrete face. &amp;nbsp;The compromised cyborg pulled&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J from the barricade with one hand, and slammed it down onto the ground with the other. &amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J pushed back at it&#39;s attacker, to no avail. &amp;nbsp;The compromised cyborg took hold of&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J shoulder; sparks and smoke emanated from the gashes and openings that&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H caused with it&#39;s unbreakable grip.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The compromised cyborg lifted&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J&#39;s damaged form, then&amp;nbsp;lifted it&#39;s own hand in order to destroy the damaged cyborg, when the girl started screaming.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maxton1EA-349-H looked over at her, and the compromised cyborg dropped the damaged&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J in order to continue it&#39;s sub-mission of retrieving the girl for the company. &amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H took the girl and formed a force shield around her to protect her from the flying metal and concrete from the robot battle. &amp;nbsp;The compromised robot ignored the damaged&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J lying on the ground, and it&#39;s assistant robots fighting in the distance, and turned to leave. &amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J grabbed&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H by the ankle, still trying to fulfill it&#39;s mission.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maxton1EA-349-H pointed it&#39;s right arm at the damaged cyborg and fired a plasma shot at it, as the girl screamed again. &amp;nbsp;The compromised robot&#39;s scanners warned of two other cyborgs entering the area. &amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H turned and disappeared with it&#39;s quarry amidst the chaos and smoke.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/5393605072651196554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/06/fulfilling-mission-slight-summary-4.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5393605072651196554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5393605072651196554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/06/fulfilling-mission-slight-summary-4.html' title='Fulfilling a Mission'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokrkOKJwGsZO38SpX75w_QJdON34z7_KmMLDk0fxFdwWAUkiE4d6rWBdHFWzG_lsldK-8HxBfXPG_ldrrdsOmAPRLc9Im1-d1SCMPjzvxvOHhyQnAx4KQ9LduOX1dXAnhAE0sT2vBSttp/s72-c/Diana&amp;Girl.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-289333075320575611</id><published>2012-05-21T14:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-21T17:08:00.754-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Professor&#39;s Vessel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DI1_xPBbvZi2G5vX3-efK4yGwZ8c5OUhPjVQSqQ-dZrv7689Ao8YHSzIejwJP45zT7AMjO8iSuaVMt_AGhsUJKTMM0O3N-9vWtL1gZDBV5ntFAtDZmVbVbqok6N_K3_dSRzcHBBxDV9i/s1600/professor&#39;s-vessel.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DI1_xPBbvZi2G5vX3-efK4yGwZ8c5OUhPjVQSqQ-dZrv7689Ao8YHSzIejwJP45zT7AMjO8iSuaVMt_AGhsUJKTMM0O3N-9vWtL1gZDBV5ntFAtDZmVbVbqok6N_K3_dSRzcHBBxDV9i/s400/professor&#39;s-vessel.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
The Professor&#39;s Vessel&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Slight Summary 3:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The professor stared at the displays, and at the data that Sally had sent him. &amp;nbsp;After all of those years with&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H, it would seem that the cyborg would have to be defeated and destroyed. &amp;nbsp;Two others were on their way to do just that. &amp;nbsp;While staring at the data, he thought back at others in his employ, without which he wouldn&#39;t have known of the damage that could be perpetrated by the cyborg&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H, until after the disaster would have occurred.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
The professor had many assistants in his employ. &amp;nbsp;Few of them could be trusted with special assignments, and of those, only two were truly trustworthy with anything and everything. &amp;nbsp;One was Sally, who was one of the professor&#39;s laboratory assistants. &amp;nbsp;The other was Gil, who was the mechanic and pilot of the professor&#39;s vessel.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Sally was misunderstood. &amp;nbsp;That is what her brother said on his sister&#39;s graduation day. &amp;nbsp;She graduated second to the last in her class, and wasn&#39;t expected to do much with her studies. &amp;nbsp;Being forgetful and a natural daydreamer, many of her classmates would joke as to what type of dog catcher&#39;s outfit she would wear as a career.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Poor Sally knew what they would say, and her instructors were often in on the cruel jokes. &amp;nbsp;Often, the professor would notice her weeping in the gardens that lined the southern edge of the campus. &amp;nbsp;It was there where he first took notice of her, and it was then when the professor realized that he had discovered a valuable, and potential part of his team. &amp;nbsp;Sally may not have been a stellar student, but she did have great potential.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
On graduation day, the professor was given the opportunity to speak, as he did on every graduation day for the previous seventeen years. &amp;nbsp;On that day, he would choose one graduate that would be given the opportunity to work in his laboratories. &amp;nbsp;It was a prestigious moment for the graduate with the highest scores, and with the most potential. &amp;nbsp;It was a shining moment for the student who would stand and walk up onto the stage to shake the professor&#39;s hand and accept the internship amidst flashing cameras and video recording.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
On that day, he stunned the crowd by offering the position to Sally Wri, the daydreamer. &amp;nbsp;Working in the professor&#39;s robotics laboratories was a dream job for any student new to the working world. &amp;nbsp;The sight of Sally jumping up, un-snagging her gown from her chair, and hobbling her four-foot three and ninety-nine pound frame up onto the stage to accept the offer, brought open jaws and looks of disbelief across the small sea of assembled faces in the university theater. &amp;nbsp;Envy and anger could be seen hovering over the heads of many graduates and some instructors as well, but the professor had made his decision, and none would dare to question it. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Needless to say, that moment ended all jokes and snickers from the graduate&#39;s class and instructors, and Sally had been working for the professor ever since. &amp;nbsp;She was not the head of the laboratory, that position was Clara&#39;s, but of all of the laboratory assistants, Sally was the one that the professor&#39;s truly trusted.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Gil was a mechanic. &amp;nbsp;It seemed that he was born to be a mechanic. &amp;nbsp;At an early age, he showed an interest in it, and his father, being a mechanic and pilot himself, proudly encouraged him.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Gil had been a stellar student, and he excelled at everything to do with repairing, modifying, and building machines. &amp;nbsp;When he first modified an aging plane and broke the sound barrier with it, most were in awe. &amp;nbsp;When he built his first vessel that could reach the ocean floor, he received accolades. &amp;nbsp;It was when he built the Sovereign, which would become the team&#39;s vessel, that the professor was personally impressed, for he knew that Gil&#39;s potential was just unfolding.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Gil was a master mechanic, and when the professor himself offered him a position, Gil jumped at it. &amp;nbsp;He became part of the team, and the only other trustworthy member at that time.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;It was Gil and Sally who discovered that Maxton1EA-349-H&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;had been contaminated, and that it now had a sub-mission, which was to retrieve the child, and to destroy the cyborg that protected her. &amp;nbsp;Unfortunately, the subtle signs of the contamination were discovered after the cyborg had been dispatched on it&#39;s assignment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Maxton1EA-349-H&amp;nbsp;had left for the intercept, and other cyborgs were on their way as well. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The professor, accompanied by Sally Wri, and her little friend, Fitz-00-DJE-27, a very small catlike robot, strode quickly to the awaiting vessel. &amp;nbsp;&quot;Ready to move, professor!&quot; Gil&#39;s familiar voice boomed over the arid landscape that housed the professor&#39;s hidden laboratories; a place of wild dust storms and bleached bones.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;div&gt;
The newly forming team were soon on their way to join the cyborgs James88032-N and Victor-4L-383B1K in confronting the eldest and most dangerous of cyborgs.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
From a far distance, a figure sat in his chair and watched. &amp;nbsp;He watched through the eyes of the contaminated cyborg.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/289333075320575611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/professors-vessel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/289333075320575611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/289333075320575611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/professors-vessel.html' title='The Professor&#39;s Vessel'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7DI1_xPBbvZi2G5vX3-efK4yGwZ8c5OUhPjVQSqQ-dZrv7689Ao8YHSzIejwJP45zT7AMjO8iSuaVMt_AGhsUJKTMM0O3N-9vWtL1gZDBV5ntFAtDZmVbVbqok6N_K3_dSRzcHBBxDV9i/s72-c/professor&#39;s-vessel.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-2554058172856621271</id><published>2012-05-16T20:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-16T20:01:24.145-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maxton1EA-349-H</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpxmNVYd37as30HgLshDOgPOqdm6SHiJx-no2qCbMbVuQ7YT2tUZjCXsZ23nakfspp0UOik24vFNEF3ezxDYNkIO1Jt-_8s5DYs5IIYXC2_Z-p63JNPYolJrzIdo5-p7iVCh-rH0Yn5Tm/s1600/Maxton1EA-349-H.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;225&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpxmNVYd37as30HgLshDOgPOqdm6SHiJx-no2qCbMbVuQ7YT2tUZjCXsZ23nakfspp0UOik24vFNEF3ezxDYNkIO1Jt-_8s5DYs5IIYXC2_Z-p63JNPYolJrzIdo5-p7iVCh-rH0Yn5Tm/s400/Maxton1EA-349-H.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Maxton1EA-349-H&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Slight Summary 2:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maxton1EA-349-H&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 18px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;was an original. &amp;nbsp;It was the second of seven successful experiments in living tissue/robotics, and it was also one of the first stable cyborgs which had seen action for over seventeen years. &amp;nbsp;It had saved the professor&#39;s life on two occasions, and had always returned from every assignment, as difficult as they may have been. &amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H could always be counted on to succeed; it was the last of it&#39;s generation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the second and third cyborg issues were released, Diana8U5-329-J and James88032-N being of that third generation,&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H was scheduled to be removed from action,&amp;nbsp;disassembled, and it&#39;s organic components destroyed. &amp;nbsp;But&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H proved to be more than a mere part machine. &amp;nbsp;It proved itself to be the most resourceful, durable, and successful cyborg of any generation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maxton1EA-349-H did outlast the entire second issue, of which there were thirty two, as well as it&#39;s own generation of twelve, and several of the third generation.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was not a surprise that the professor fought hard to keep&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H active. &amp;nbsp;It was a valued agent, and it had proven itself many times before.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But something had happened to the cyborg during it&#39;s last assignment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Along with the cyborg Heracles00-4DU-3B9, which did not survive the mission,&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H was assigned to infiltrate and destroy one of the criminal company&#39;s robotic processing factories. &amp;nbsp;It was hidden on an island, and was nearing completion. &amp;nbsp;Once completed, it would have provided many dangerous compounds and robots that would be used against innocent people.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Accompanied by several armored assistants, the cyborgs accomplished the mission by destroying the factory, and all of it&#39;s incomplete robots. &amp;nbsp;Unfortunately, an unknown substance was released, destroying the biological portion of the cyborg&amp;nbsp;Heracles00-4DU-3B9, and all but one of the assistants. &amp;nbsp;The final surviving assistant managed to stagger as far as the seaside beach, where he sent his report to the professor before expiring.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Of&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H, the damaged cyborg returned to base.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Physical repairs completed, bio-scans did not detect and unusual activity from the cyborg. &amp;nbsp;Although, an unusual signature had been detected by one of the laboratory assistants, who was later found expired in one of the base corridors before he could report.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now,&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H had been sent on it&#39;s way to intercept the cyborg&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J. &amp;nbsp;The third issue cyborg was carrying the child who harbored the final fifth genetic portion needed by the criminals to complete the biological control virus. &amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J&amp;nbsp;was also malfunctioning. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Unbeknownst to the others,&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H was no longer under the professor&#39;s control. &amp;nbsp;It had been compromised, and reassigned by the criminal company to destroy&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J, and take the child.&amp;nbsp; Unbeknownst to&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H,&amp;nbsp;James88032-N and Victor-4L-383B1K were also on their way… to destroy Maxton1EA-349-H.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/2554058172856621271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/maxton1ea-349-h.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2554058172856621271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2554058172856621271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/maxton1ea-349-h.html' title='Maxton1EA-349-H'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpxmNVYd37as30HgLshDOgPOqdm6SHiJx-no2qCbMbVuQ7YT2tUZjCXsZ23nakfspp0UOik24vFNEF3ezxDYNkIO1Jt-_8s5DYs5IIYXC2_Z-p63JNPYolJrzIdo5-p7iVCh-rH0Yn5Tm/s72-c/Maxton1EA-349-H.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-1018806931230791429</id><published>2012-05-13T01:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-13T01:43:28.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Diana8U5-329-J</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguihZPAKuwMly0ITrQt6D9t6h7wQzjjr4n5ApCnnTiM0Gk08WRzsB3GglLqBLMjVl62CJSfL944Bqd4zOBkhkNP-zAffnz2vjicl6j9CBVI8da0b_u1hRHXSSvDanbmwE-_Q0zsJ83CR6p/s1600/Domino.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguihZPAKuwMly0ITrQt6D9t6h7wQzjjr4n5ApCnnTiM0Gk08WRzsB3GglLqBLMjVl62CJSfL944Bqd4zOBkhkNP-zAffnz2vjicl6j9CBVI8da0b_u1hRHXSSvDanbmwE-_Q0zsJ83CR6p/s400/Domino.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
This is the first excerpt of a story that I am working on. &amp;nbsp;I suppose that it is not really an excerpt, but a slight summary of the story. &amp;nbsp;It is a story of science fiction. &amp;nbsp;It is another of those long-incomplete stories that have been gathering dust. &amp;nbsp;These days, I am still working on several stories at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Diana8U5-329-J&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Slight Summary 1:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After the commotion that passed, security in the building had been increased. &amp;nbsp;The agent remained hidden for several days, and as silent as silence. &amp;nbsp;When Diana8U5-329-J had judged that it was time, the agent crept along the quiet corridors, and found the locked rooms. &amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J used the materials that the professor had provided, and broke open the cell doors. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Behind them, lay the child that had been kidnapped by the criminals company; they intended to use her to complete their biological control virus. &amp;nbsp;She was the child that was missing. &amp;nbsp;The other four had already been &#39;consumed&#39; in order to progress the first four stages. &amp;nbsp;The girl, the fifth and last component of the process, had been born with the genetic material that would complete and activate the virus. &amp;nbsp;Her father, the scientist that lamented having had assisted in the development of the virus, had to be destroyed. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No outsider could be allowed to live.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The evil corporation had eliminated him before he and the professor&#39;s assistants could escape the hidden mountain laboratories. &amp;nbsp;They eliminated him, and took the girl. &amp;nbsp;A surviving assistant managed to collect information, and notified the professor before he expired. &amp;nbsp;They could not be allowed to activate their virus.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With that, the professor decided to send three of his cyborgs to thwart the criminal company&#39;s intent. &amp;nbsp;He sent James88032-N to destroy the company&#39;s supply shipments, he sent Victor-4L-383B1K on a mission to a destroy a top manufacturing factory, and he sent&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J&amp;nbsp;on the mission to retrieve the girl from the company&#39;s laboratories.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Everything was going along as planned, until Diana8U5-329-J began malfunctioning in a way that the professor had hoped would not happen for some time. &amp;nbsp;The cyborg Diana8U5-329-J was beginning to process unprovided data. &amp;nbsp;As&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J broke free from the building&#39;s security robots with the girl on her back, and as a result of damage received from the security robots, the cyborg began processing memories.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Images began to flood the cyborg&#39;s mostly mechanical brain. &amp;nbsp;They were images from a life near a beach, and they were faces from a forgotten past.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The force shield that&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J had formed around the girl was fading, not from the damage, but from confusion. &amp;nbsp;For the first time since the cyborg&#39;s activation, it felt confusion.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The professor monitored Diana8U5-329-J, and it&#39;s &#39;confusion&#39;. &amp;nbsp;If Diana8U5-329-J&amp;nbsp;were to be compromised, then the cyborg would have to be destroyed, and the girl would have to be retrieved by another.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The professor sent a fourth cyborg to intercept&amp;nbsp;Diana8U5-329-J, and if necessary, to destroy&amp;nbsp;the cyborg. &amp;nbsp;He sent&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H. &amp;nbsp;Unfortunately,&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H had been contaminated, and the only assistant that knew it had perished before&amp;nbsp;Maxton1EA-349-H had returned from it&#39;s last mission.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/1018806931230791429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/diana8u5-329-j.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1018806931230791429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1018806931230791429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/diana8u5-329-j.html' title='Diana8U5-329-J'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguihZPAKuwMly0ITrQt6D9t6h7wQzjjr4n5ApCnnTiM0Gk08WRzsB3GglLqBLMjVl62CJSfL944Bqd4zOBkhkNP-zAffnz2vjicl6j9CBVI8da0b_u1hRHXSSvDanbmwE-_Q0zsJ83CR6p/s72-c/Domino.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-5347046451282633185</id><published>2012-05-07T02:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-07T02:24:43.475-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Edge of the Floating Cities</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso5d-i2qEEMCpmDc_xQ317mqZiefVQIEWSdEOV4BqIiVuX7o4xqju8WbQrZDSsiEbte0jFSCCac9VZejYBfl6oElgeKvaOj0s9xcMp2ZkOLbLClTjnBzvI7jAqHv-r3_2wDrbfwCtW2Vb/s1600/Edge-of-the-City.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso5d-i2qEEMCpmDc_xQ317mqZiefVQIEWSdEOV4BqIiVuX7o4xqju8WbQrZDSsiEbte0jFSCCac9VZejYBfl6oElgeKvaOj0s9xcMp2ZkOLbLClTjnBzvI7jAqHv-r3_2wDrbfwCtW2Vb/s400/Edge-of-the-City.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ages after humans left the surface, the planet had finally healed itself. &amp;nbsp;The earth had finally reclaimed what it was before humanity, and had washed away it&#39;s many wounds. &amp;nbsp;The buildings were gone, the roads, monuments, and all other human markers that recorded a history of a destructive species no longer existed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Many left the surface to escape massive pollution that was allowed and protected to corrode the planet. &amp;nbsp;They left to escape extreme hatred and uncontrolled violence that had plagued their kind since their beginnings. &amp;nbsp;They left to escape corporate greed and religious intolerance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Aboard the massive multi-cities, humanity had become a species that chose to exist within their own technology. &amp;nbsp;Not all chose this, but those who did, survived to become new humans. &amp;nbsp;Those that remained on the surface, lived out their lives, but in time, become extinct.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Generations were born and passed their legacies to their descendants aboard the floating multi-cities. &amp;nbsp;Generations would work and contribute to the floating multi-cities; improving their technologies, perfecting their self sufficiency, and forgetting their own histories. &amp;nbsp;They were the great technological accomplishments that became the home of the new humans, and of the new human&#39;s many forms. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Over time, some of the multi-cities left the planet altogether. &amp;nbsp;They chose to orbit other planets in the solar system, and afterward, some of them chose to leave for the deep of space. &amp;nbsp;They would never return.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It had been several hundreds of thousands of years since anyone had set foot on the surface of the planet. &amp;nbsp;In all of that time, humans became different species; they were inadvertently modified by their own technologies and environments. &amp;nbsp;They were no longer joined to the planet. &amp;nbsp;Were one of them to return to the surface, that one would certainly perish quickly, as the new humans had no tolerance to the microscopic bacteria or other violent micro species that existed on the surface of the planet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was true that billions of souls would never even seen the light of the sun, the feel of a breeze, or the sight of a mountain or forest from under the shade of a tree. &amp;nbsp;Of the very few that lived near the surface of the floating cities, even fewer wondered about their ancestral home. &amp;nbsp;Even fewer than that cared or imagined life outside of their sterile world. &amp;nbsp;New humanity had become long-lived and sterile. &amp;nbsp;They had become a species intertwined with their mechanical inheritance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some had become more cybernetic than others. &amp;nbsp;Some had remained completely organic, but their features had adapted to their environments. &amp;nbsp;Some new humans were taller, thinner and weaker, as they embraced the sciences and knowledge. &amp;nbsp;Others who had left for other places in the solar system would adapt in different ways. &amp;nbsp;One floating city became the home of new humans that had become no more than humanoid memories in mechanical bodies.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There were many hundreds of thousands of these floating multi-cities, and over time, they would continue to advance and multiply and venture outward. &amp;nbsp;They were worlds of their own, and in time, only a fraction of them would float above the green and blue planet that had been the place of their birth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One day, one of the cities would fail and it would fall to the earth. &amp;nbsp;There it would rest, until the planet would break it down and reclaim it&#39;s elements, and the other multi-cities would continue.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
How long would the others remain before leaving the green and blue planet forever?&amp;nbsp;What would become of the new humans?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Only the ages would tell.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/5347046451282633185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/edge-of-floating-cities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5347046451282633185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5347046451282633185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/edge-of-floating-cities.html' title='Edge of the Floating Cities'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso5d-i2qEEMCpmDc_xQ317mqZiefVQIEWSdEOV4BqIiVuX7o4xqju8WbQrZDSsiEbte0jFSCCac9VZejYBfl6oElgeKvaOj0s9xcMp2ZkOLbLClTjnBzvI7jAqHv-r3_2wDrbfwCtW2Vb/s72-c/Edge-of-the-City.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-5199420620822157141</id><published>2012-05-06T02:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-06T02:42:20.005-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lost Stair</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVnpiTHUSRnejsiz5VvwQxBu7AlpQuA_PudZ3U1bMTsASbaMtrxOC8SMJuSq8Hav1e_0E0c5IA3zigVuLoYyiWVGob8Ho-d5um0_x3Wq7yT3H0ocJW890MvzlXax9nYmK58bKUR7a9hWC/s1600/lost-stair.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVnpiTHUSRnejsiz5VvwQxBu7AlpQuA_PudZ3U1bMTsASbaMtrxOC8SMJuSq8Hav1e_0E0c5IA3zigVuLoYyiWVGob8Ho-d5um0_x3Wq7yT3H0ocJW890MvzlXax9nYmK58bKUR7a9hWC/s400/lost-stair.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy times! I developed this image on an old Dell that is no longer around. &amp;nbsp;This complex image crashed that computer several times before the PC finally completed the render. &amp;nbsp;When that Dell PC finally kicked it, I thought that it took this image with it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I did lose the original work file, but somehow a copy of the final image wound up on a backup DVD. &amp;nbsp;Remember everyone, back up all of your work. &amp;nbsp;O.k. then, here&#39;s a little Flash Fiction that I just thought up for the image...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
The Lost Stair&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I listen to the old soldiers some times. &amp;nbsp;In fact, several of us hay bailers like to sit and listen to their old war stories. &amp;nbsp;It is interesting when they come along from the small road towns where they live. &amp;nbsp;They come into our town to sit under the shade trees and talk about their exploits.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Most of the time, they reminisce about old battles and the defeat of past dictators and their armies. &amp;nbsp;I have to say, that at times we sit there and drink in their words.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An old soldier in particular, fought in the struggle against the white banners; those were the ones that tried to take this very town for themselves, as well as several others. &amp;nbsp;They came from across the mountains. &amp;nbsp;As a young man, the old soldier saw much struggle, and he was there in the most dangerous of battles.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One particular story that he would tell, was the one about how the general of the white banners dabbled in forbidden things.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The old soldier himself did not learn the story for himself as an eyewitness, but he learned it from others who had been assigned to the task in the raiding of the enemy general&#39;s mountain fortress, and one in particular who lived to tell the tale to his comrades. &amp;nbsp;That raider learned it from a captured enemy guard who had no issue in telling it, as he himself was glad that the mountain fortress had been conquered, and it&#39;s master, defeated.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As the story goes, and this was told by the raider who learned it from the captured guard, the general of the white banners was planning an assault against our combined forces. &amp;nbsp;The war was waning, and badly for the white banners.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One night, as the general and his high confidants and advisors planned their last assault, an argument broke out amongst them. &amp;nbsp;Some sided with the argument that their final push was far too weak, and that it would be best to retreat and gather their strength. &amp;nbsp;Others sided with the general, and thought that retreating would spur our forces to follow them into the mountains and utterly defeat the failing white banners.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Soon after the argument began, it ended. &amp;nbsp;Those that did not follow the general, stormed out of the room. &amp;nbsp;Those that supported him, were thrown out. &amp;nbsp;The general and his most trusted men remained, and with the few candles that had not gone out; our forces had successfully shut the power from the area.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The captured guard said that he watched as the men stormed out of the room and disappeared down the stairs at the end of the hallway. &amp;nbsp;He watched as the supporting advisors also left the room, and disappeared through a door at the opposite end of the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hours passed, and the guard said that as he was beginning to doze off, he heard steps coming up the stairs at the far end of the hallway. &amp;nbsp;He said that a figure dressed in black, came up the stairs, turned, and walked to the general&#39;s door. &amp;nbsp;He watched as the figure opened the door, and entered; he closed the door behind him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, the guard said that something dark must have happened in that room, for in a few minutes, the general came out. &amp;nbsp;He locked the door behind him, and turned to leave. &amp;nbsp;As he did, he glanced over at the guard, and said: &quot;Victory will be our destiny.&quot; &amp;nbsp;With that, the general walked to the end of the hallway, and down the stairs, shouting: &quot;It is our destiny to win! We will win because we are the white banners!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The guard said that he never saw the figure dressed in black leave the room, or ever since. &amp;nbsp;It did not matter, as the confidence that the general received, made him give the order to join all of his remaining forces, and attack. &amp;nbsp;Needless to say, the general and the white banners were soundly defeated. &amp;nbsp;They were utterly and completely destroyed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The general himself, limped back, bloodied and broken. &amp;nbsp;He and his surviving advisors managed to make it back to the mountain stronghold. &amp;nbsp;It did not take long for our forces to reach the unprotected stronghold, and burn it to the ground. &amp;nbsp;The general and his few surviving men perished in the chaos. &amp;nbsp;The ruins of the stronghold remain to this day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Whatever the figure dressed in black told the general to spur him forward, none will ever know. &amp;nbsp;Undoubtedly, the figure saw the general&#39;s desperation, and saw the opportunity do deceive him into an agreement, and with no intention in helping him in any type of victory. &amp;nbsp;The figure told the general that he would return to his fortress after the last great battle was fought, but the figure neglected to tell him that he would return in defeat, battered and broken, and that he would be destroyed in his own fortress.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is said by the scant few that dare to travel through the mountains at night, that they can hear the general and his doomed advisors still trapped in their crumbled fortress, where they remain forever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/5199420620822157141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/lost-stair.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5199420620822157141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5199420620822157141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/lost-stair.html' title='The Lost Stair'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVnpiTHUSRnejsiz5VvwQxBu7AlpQuA_PudZ3U1bMTsASbaMtrxOC8SMJuSq8Hav1e_0E0c5IA3zigVuLoYyiWVGob8Ho-d5um0_x3Wq7yT3H0ocJW890MvzlXax9nYmK58bKUR7a9hWC/s72-c/lost-stair.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-5308931735297866243</id><published>2012-05-05T02:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-05T02:01:05.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Poor Victim</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhW4UfyHu3JGtZa26RUMDsm54phR_FFTPjbvZs_jZ-f537tXZ2fLh2EYOqEkqBsGHCI97-kCjpQBPpwMk8UMWP0jwlnbSHqw_ud-EFiMFtS4uocp0sG2VhpdsE3Ha9pjLpfpiD_juAVz02/s1600/The-Poor-Victim.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhW4UfyHu3JGtZa26RUMDsm54phR_FFTPjbvZs_jZ-f537tXZ2fLh2EYOqEkqBsGHCI97-kCjpQBPpwMk8UMWP0jwlnbSHqw_ud-EFiMFtS4uocp0sG2VhpdsE3Ha9pjLpfpiD_juAVz02/s400/The-Poor-Victim.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Where is everybody?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They told us to stay on the far side of the lake. &amp;nbsp;They told us all to leave before dark. &amp;nbsp;They told us not to go into the woods, and they certainly told us not to go through the glade, but none of us knew why. &amp;nbsp;They told us that the little abandoned house in the glade was not to be disturbed. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes, I just don&#39;t understand people. &amp;nbsp;When I saw that all of you left me, I was disappointed. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hah! some brave friends that I have.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The last that I saw of you, was Lana&#39;s hair as you all ran through the bushes. &amp;nbsp;Well, I suppose that I&#39;m the brave one. &amp;nbsp;Yea! Let&#39;s get that straight! &amp;nbsp;I&#39;m the brave one, and I&#39;m the only one that actually went into the little house!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I looked around, and like they told us, the house was abandoned. &amp;nbsp;There was nothing in that house but a chair and that strange glowing rock on it. &amp;nbsp;Remember that little glowing rock that they told us about? Yea, it was there, and now it was mine!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After I left the house, I went after you. &amp;nbsp;Soon after that,&amp;nbsp;I saw you; Toby and Lana, I saw you both. &amp;nbsp;I saw you too, Jeremy! You&#39;re all chickens! That&#39;s right, chickens! bok! bok!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I saw you as you looked back at me, and then you all turned and ran off as fast as you could. &amp;nbsp;It&#39;s not as if I had cooties or anything. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hey! I took the rock from the house, but after I ran after you, I tripped and lost it. &amp;nbsp;I ran after you, and here I am, back at the clearing! Hey! Come back!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Monsters? What monsters? I&#39;m telling you, there really isn&#39;t anything in these little woods that can hurt you! You know that, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hey, come back!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/5308931735297866243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/poor-victim.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5308931735297866243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5308931735297866243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/poor-victim.html' title='The Poor Victim'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhW4UfyHu3JGtZa26RUMDsm54phR_FFTPjbvZs_jZ-f537tXZ2fLh2EYOqEkqBsGHCI97-kCjpQBPpwMk8UMWP0jwlnbSHqw_ud-EFiMFtS4uocp0sG2VhpdsE3Ha9pjLpfpiD_juAVz02/s72-c/The-Poor-Victim.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-2419555899663045133</id><published>2012-05-04T16:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-04T16:45:15.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dust Bowl Era</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xdjcPUdWL2wlQTCoTK2vH-AqMFo6dUN80gwxs17QImxS1gAgMb3Ku0Km9K2ADoaSzSi7Pw30KeA5FUekLDpCvsR8cOlZiTR6IWEVzcf6zUYmlor3sAXrwVY6y8jrhcRDNSrUZTddcRv0/s1600/Dust+Bowl+Era+Old+Timey.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xdjcPUdWL2wlQTCoTK2vH-AqMFo6dUN80gwxs17QImxS1gAgMb3Ku0Km9K2ADoaSzSi7Pw30KeA5FUekLDpCvsR8cOlZiTR6IWEVzcf6zUYmlor3sAXrwVY6y8jrhcRDNSrUZTddcRv0/s400/Dust+Bowl+Era+Old+Timey.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Somewhere during the dust bowl era, which was caused by decades of extensive farming and severe drought, an event like the one in this scene tool place. &amp;nbsp;I am not saying that this particular image was taken during those years, but a poor animal wandering beside a track, and with an abandoned house behind it must have taken place quite often. &amp;nbsp;It must have been a very harsh time.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/2419555899663045133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/dust-bowl-era.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2419555899663045133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2419555899663045133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/05/dust-bowl-era.html' title='Dust Bowl Era'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xdjcPUdWL2wlQTCoTK2vH-AqMFo6dUN80gwxs17QImxS1gAgMb3Ku0Km9K2ADoaSzSi7Pw30KeA5FUekLDpCvsR8cOlZiTR6IWEVzcf6zUYmlor3sAXrwVY6y8jrhcRDNSrUZTddcRv0/s72-c/Dust+Bowl+Era+Old+Timey.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-1351699384376271594</id><published>2012-04-30T00:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-30T02:26:01.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Face in Murky Waters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPpu-Y8sLvOVzfSwrORF8EKxJx1TSqQTZTfqIe3VERfLKyx6oS4oF2kq-WJXxlZt462POmZV9lBskCz-tcvZB7p5WlkRl3lVEPqc7wxrj4k27O2nnpqwtDqr5PdsHISe7jnFawRKKhBIH/s1600/Face-in-the-Murk.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPpu-Y8sLvOVzfSwrORF8EKxJx1TSqQTZTfqIe3VERfLKyx6oS4oF2kq-WJXxlZt462POmZV9lBskCz-tcvZB7p5WlkRl3lVEPqc7wxrj4k27O2nnpqwtDqr5PdsHISe7jnFawRKKhBIH/s400/Face-in-the-Murk.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Several decades ago, a group of scientists experimented with the effects of gene manipulation. &amp;nbsp;They employed four transients to take part in their experiments. &amp;nbsp;Soon after, the city was plagued by several unsolved disappearances. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It seems that the poor subjects had begun to search out &#39;alternative&#39; nourishment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When a fisherman and his daughter came across one of the subjects making a meal of a horse, they ran for their lives. &amp;nbsp;The subject would have caught them, were it not for the truck that ran the subject over. &amp;nbsp;Before their very eyes, the subject deteriorated, and soon was reduced to a greenish pile of ashes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Weeks later, another subject was caught attempting to attack a local librarian as she was locking the library for the night. &amp;nbsp;Her screams alerted several men in a bar, which immediately went after the shadowy figure. &amp;nbsp;They chased the subject as far as the dock, where it jumped into the dark waters, and disappeared from sight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the distance, they noticed two more shadowy figures drop down into the waters.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Reports of more violent attacks came more frequently. &amp;nbsp;The locals began patrolling the areas at night, and groups of armed men would go out in search of the &#39;fish men&#39;, as they were called. &amp;nbsp;People that had escaped the fish men&#39;s clutches had described the croaking, and clicking, and the swampy smell that protruded from the slimy creatures.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the scientists were found deceased, and their laboratory destroyed, the locals decided that it was time to put an end to the slimy fish men.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They took weapons, and went out in search of them. &amp;nbsp;Soon after, some of the men found the fish men scrounging around in the local woods. &amp;nbsp;The locals confronted the slimy fish men, who began fighting back. &amp;nbsp; As the fight continued, the noise alerted more of the locals. &amp;nbsp;As they arrived, they found the men sprawled on the ground, and the three fish men gone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some of the men that went in search at the dock, saw the fish men jump into the water. &amp;nbsp;Startled, one of them went back to alert the others. &amp;nbsp;When all of the locals arrived at the dock, they poured oil into the water, and set it ablaze.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The locals remained long after the fires went out, and into the early morning.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Since that night, the slimy fish men were never seen again. &amp;nbsp;Most of the locals believed that they had been destroyed trying to escape the flames, and others believed that they perished under the waters by all of the objects and dynamite that had been thrown in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Years later, the fish men had been mostly forgotten, until the day when a tourist diver came across a greenish, and slime-covered figure lurking in a nearby bay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Needless to say, nobody believed his story.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/1351699384376271594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/face-in-murky-waters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1351699384376271594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1351699384376271594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/face-in-murky-waters.html' title='Face in Murky Waters'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPpu-Y8sLvOVzfSwrORF8EKxJx1TSqQTZTfqIe3VERfLKyx6oS4oF2kq-WJXxlZt462POmZV9lBskCz-tcvZB7p5WlkRl3lVEPqc7wxrj4k27O2nnpqwtDqr5PdsHISe7jnFawRKKhBIH/s72-c/Face-in-the-Murk.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-1030064384908024349</id><published>2012-04-26T03:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-26T03:38:17.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flamenco Dancer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBlN5PwxzBJPlzwiniPFGyyfcrlJytP0i7A-eT_nIICbV91Ixn8_QtL_VRoG5hjdpOV9fzcB09ELclkd8RftTdGNvTrU-kpYlIrcV9frcBp2ZfjfqFcgLgBoD0abrIUhyphenhyphenWH-s7DkrpKiM/s1600/Flamenco+Dancer.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBlN5PwxzBJPlzwiniPFGyyfcrlJytP0i7A-eT_nIICbV91Ixn8_QtL_VRoG5hjdpOV9fzcB09ELclkd8RftTdGNvTrU-kpYlIrcV9frcBp2ZfjfqFcgLgBoD0abrIUhyphenhyphenWH-s7DkrpKiM/s400/Flamenco+Dancer.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was in old Barcelona where he saw her for the first time. &amp;nbsp;After a business meeting that had lasted for hours, he went out into the night. &amp;nbsp;Not feeling particularly tired, he decided to wander into a local establishment for something to drink. &amp;nbsp;There she was. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She turned and flowed on the stage as she danced. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps she reminded him of someone. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps she had been part of his life at some point. &amp;nbsp;But how? &amp;nbsp;He had never seen her before, yet after a few moments, she had become an obsession.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She danced for a time in her native dress, and to her native music. &amp;nbsp;She flowed and twirled, and he watched her through the smoke, the hushed conversations, the tiny candles, and the dim light. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
During his time in old Barcelona, he would stand at his hotel room window, and he would look out at the old city. &amp;nbsp;He would stare at the distant lights, which became the tiny candles, and see her fleeting face in them. &amp;nbsp;She haunted him in his memory, as she danced through the shadows and smoke.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After his last scheduled meeting in old Barcelona, he quickly made his way back to the local establishment. &amp;nbsp;Another dancer was performing. &amp;nbsp;He paid for an extra night at the hotel where he was staying, and missed his scheduled flight back home. &amp;nbsp;On that extra night, a local guitar player played in the local establishment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He remained in old Barcelona an extra week, in hopes of seeing her again, in hopes of watching her dance again, but other acts followed one after the other. &amp;nbsp;Inquiring about the dancer, not the barmaids, nor even the establishment&#39;s owner could answer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The following night, he sat in his plane seat, and stared out at the old city while the plane began to rise. &amp;nbsp;Throughout the city, the lights became tiny candles again. &amp;nbsp;In his memory, he watched her as she twirled and turned amongst the shadows and smoke on the stage in that local establishment in old Barcelona.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/1030064384908024349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/flamenco-dancer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1030064384908024349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1030064384908024349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/flamenco-dancer.html' title='The Flamenco Dancer'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBlN5PwxzBJPlzwiniPFGyyfcrlJytP0i7A-eT_nIICbV91Ixn8_QtL_VRoG5hjdpOV9fzcB09ELclkd8RftTdGNvTrU-kpYlIrcV9frcBp2ZfjfqFcgLgBoD0abrIUhyphenhyphenWH-s7DkrpKiM/s72-c/Flamenco+Dancer.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-7374837136535486433</id><published>2012-04-25T14:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-25T14:36:21.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a simple copper lamp</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BODZWGr3S8feoM3PvIEEU9M9zPYFjRmNPJ_vMmAa9RPt2ew_U5CXwB_gdkeMjXKE5hLaBvff6MTsU4KzSpc5vqOu2Ent9TM-pGHMlTLTy71NPlOxT87Rc9t-bZuiPSfYh9jOaVy_LSWF/s1600/Copper+Lamp.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BODZWGr3S8feoM3PvIEEU9M9zPYFjRmNPJ_vMmAa9RPt2ew_U5CXwB_gdkeMjXKE5hLaBvff6MTsU4KzSpc5vqOu2Ent9TM-pGHMlTLTy71NPlOxT87Rc9t-bZuiPSfYh9jOaVy_LSWF/s400/Copper+Lamp.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just a simple copper lamp. &amp;nbsp;It is so much easier to achieve semi-realism with objects, even down to the fake plastic wood base. &amp;nbsp;Realistic-looking skin is always so much harder to achieve. &amp;nbsp;It is just one of those difficult things. &amp;nbsp;I built this lamp in Hexagon and rendered in Vue.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/7374837136535486433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/just-simple-copper-lamp.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/7374837136535486433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/7374837136535486433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/just-simple-copper-lamp.html' title='Just a simple copper lamp'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BODZWGr3S8feoM3PvIEEU9M9zPYFjRmNPJ_vMmAa9RPt2ew_U5CXwB_gdkeMjXKE5hLaBvff6MTsU4KzSpc5vqOu2Ent9TM-pGHMlTLTy71NPlOxT87Rc9t-bZuiPSfYh9jOaVy_LSWF/s72-c/Copper+Lamp.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-3782215954082513107</id><published>2012-04-24T16:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-24T16:53:39.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sword of the Spirit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqth6cdvxtBz7w256jYm9uhyphenhyphenBcGmIIdx6Q2oA9D7SH5Me1WaDE72Z5jBSVc-NyJTa4TPEtVo4xVsSDSXXSXvqPCKD7c3jr-iDy9vvPNchWkkXLc0njj_U2QaShPqY8h7poG9u3WB4gxXY3/s1600/Last+Battle+on+the+Dark+Mountain.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqth6cdvxtBz7w256jYm9uhyphenhyphenBcGmIIdx6Q2oA9D7SH5Me1WaDE72Z5jBSVc-NyJTa4TPEtVo4xVsSDSXXSXvqPCKD7c3jr-iDy9vvPNchWkkXLc0njj_U2QaShPqY8h7poG9u3WB4gxXY3/s400/Last+Battle+on+the+Dark+Mountain.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At times, we could see the battle atop the distant mountain. &amp;nbsp;We rode in our air balloon, and that is how we saw. &amp;nbsp;We fought the wind that pushed us about, and the cinders that threatened to send us crashing down into the treacherous land far below. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The spirit that appeared from the southeast, and strode northward, was there. &amp;nbsp;He fought fearlessly, for he was spirit, and his enemy was all that was evil. &amp;nbsp;We knew that it was he, and we knew that only he, and those who were pure, could tolerate the deadly lands of the fire mountain and it&#39;s master. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, the battle raged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Far below, we could see the evil minions as they stirred and raged. &amp;nbsp;They looked up at their master, and they screamed and beat their battle weapons against their battered armor. &amp;nbsp;They shot arrows up at us, but for our fortune, we were far too distant for their reach.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To the west of them, we spotted the paladins. &amp;nbsp;They, who were the brightest and purest of heroes, had arrived, and with their swords and spears, they engaged the evil minions far beneath us. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our air balloon rocked, and we steadied ourselves, while thunder shook the world above us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The battles raged. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Vile winged beasts arrived in support of the minions, yet the mighty paladins held their own. &amp;nbsp;The fearless heroes cut a swath through the raging hordes, and lay waste to their commanders. &amp;nbsp;Fires and chaos and the sight of the unbreakable force, struck fear in the hearts of the evil minions, and many of them fled. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They turned and fled through the fires, over their broken contraptions, over their fallen compatriots, and they disappeared into the darkness of the dark land.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The paladins cheered their victory, as far above, the last battle waned.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We watched through the rising smoke. &amp;nbsp;Thunder and lightning shook the world, as the spirit battled the evil master of the mountain. &amp;nbsp;We watched as the spirit struck down the evil master of the land; it&#39;s ruined form fell down and burst into flame as it struck the jagged mountainside.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s form fell onto the battlefield, and the paladins surrounded it in victory.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We looked back up to the top of the mountain where the fatal strike had been dealt. &amp;nbsp;We looked about while steadying ourselves in our air balloon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We could not see the spirit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Soon enough, we had to return to safer fields in order to land.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was years after, when I travelled through the icy pass, that I heard stories of the soldier&#39;s sword. &amp;nbsp;It was called the soldier&#39;s sword by a shepherd that had witnessed a man of stone pass by that way. &amp;nbsp;The shepherd and his friends followed the man up into the pass.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They said that the man made his way up to the furthest point, unsheathed his sword, and struck it down into the rock. &amp;nbsp;After the man of stone had left, the shepherd and his friends attempted to withdraw the sword, but could not. &amp;nbsp;They called him the man of stone,&amp;nbsp;but I knew that it was the unnamed spirit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I went in search for the sword.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In time, I found it for myself. &amp;nbsp;I found the sword where the man of stone, or the spirit as we knew him, had driven it into the stone of the icy pass. &amp;nbsp;The battered helmet lay beside it. &amp;nbsp;I tried to withdraw the sword myself, but I could not. &amp;nbsp;I tried to lift the helmet, but I could not. &amp;nbsp;I realized that they were to remain there forever. &amp;nbsp;As I turned to leave, I could see the top of the distant mountain where the last battle had taken place. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was no longer veiled in fire and smoke.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps, one day the spirit would return.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps, when evil would shroud the land once more, and man is once more found unworthy to take up the sword, then the spirit would return to free the land and it&#39;s peoples again.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/3782215954082513107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/sword-of-spirit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/3782215954082513107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/3782215954082513107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/sword-of-spirit.html' title='Sword of the Spirit'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqth6cdvxtBz7w256jYm9uhyphenhyphenBcGmIIdx6Q2oA9D7SH5Me1WaDE72Z5jBSVc-NyJTa4TPEtVo4xVsSDSXXSXvqPCKD7c3jr-iDy9vvPNchWkkXLc0njj_U2QaShPqY8h7poG9u3WB4gxXY3/s72-c/Last+Battle+on+the+Dark+Mountain.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-5483379599603906110</id><published>2012-04-19T21:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-19T21:34:35.868-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping Your Industrial Cities Functional</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5epVF0GvqsYsIwWvbe8d2GW-NuQSivxcRnCCr-pOWkd0thCl61cGhuCsRiD3qSj1_505Mvr1DmY0Xp4h9DAmcbkSpPJhZL1IAjDK5bAjnagSkWJzLAmDEpitDWGcAB6Xcwf1xg-Md2bso/s1600/Keeping-your-Industrial-Cities-Functional.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5epVF0GvqsYsIwWvbe8d2GW-NuQSivxcRnCCr-pOWkd0thCl61cGhuCsRiD3qSj1_505Mvr1DmY0Xp4h9DAmcbkSpPJhZL1IAjDK5bAjnagSkWJzLAmDEpitDWGcAB6Xcwf1xg-Md2bso/s400/Keeping-your-Industrial-Cities-Functional.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Greetings, intergalactic tourists and travelers, let us welcome you to the finest in inter-universal and time traveling facilities. &amp;nbsp;Our city-sized structures provide the greatest in comfort and excitement.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Time travel enthusiasts, would you like to visit the beginnings of your solar system as it formed from the gaseous and elemental remains of the previous celestial formations? &amp;nbsp;Would you like to witness the birth of your sun? &amp;nbsp;Would you like to travel forward and learn the eventual fate of your home planet as it falls victim to war-hungry megalomaniacs or as your sun finally experiences supernova and lays waste to your solar system? Well, we can provide it for you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For those deep space travelers who would rather visit the furthest known and distant civilizations, then you can do so. &amp;nbsp;Visit the distant ice systems or the most dangerous of ethereal planets. &amp;nbsp;Examine life on the deepest oceans on the most massive of planets, and the densely packed life forms living in the cold of space.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For the last 417 years, standard Earth time, we have maintained the upmost in quality in atmospheric and technologically pleasant environments for our customers. &amp;nbsp;It is our commitment to provide the finest in inter-universal and time traveling adventure. &amp;nbsp;We strive to better our methods for your benefit and comfort.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A special note:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For those of our customers who have spotted members of our workforce as they perform their work, our bio-humanoids work constantly to maintain and upgrade our facilities. &amp;nbsp;They are not alive. &amp;nbsp;Do not be alarmed, as our maintenance teams ensure proper function of our complex city-size vessels.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #f2f2f2; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; border-width: initial; color: #5c5e65; font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; list-style-type: none;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
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&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/5483379599603906110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/keeping-your-industrial-cities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5483379599603906110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5483379599603906110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/keeping-your-industrial-cities.html' title='Keeping Your Industrial Cities Functional'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5epVF0GvqsYsIwWvbe8d2GW-NuQSivxcRnCCr-pOWkd0thCl61cGhuCsRiD3qSj1_505Mvr1DmY0Xp4h9DAmcbkSpPJhZL1IAjDK5bAjnagSkWJzLAmDEpitDWGcAB6Xcwf1xg-Md2bso/s72-c/Keeping-your-Industrial-Cities-Functional.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-2413375412243406276</id><published>2012-04-15T21:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-15T21:14:30.749-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mountain of the Fire King</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
No man can go there. &amp;nbsp;Even taking one step into that cursed land would doom any with the courage. &amp;nbsp;The air there is poisonous. &amp;nbsp;The cursed ground itself would burn the stoutest reinforced boot, and lead vapors that peal the very skin away to dust.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is a most dangerous place, and the master of that land is said to bear skin of molten earth. &amp;nbsp;He is a foul beast, and he is cruel beyond measure. &amp;nbsp;He commands evil spirits that take the bones of those who have fallen there, to themselves. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I saw the soldier himself. &amp;nbsp;As I fled this way, I saw him with my own eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I saw him! As you must have, I saw him, or I should say, it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, I tell you, that the stories are true. &amp;nbsp;None in this world were worthy enough; not you, or I, or any else in this tavern. &amp;nbsp;None bore the faith and courage of heroes past, and so, that thing was chosen. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was there when it fought the molten demons in the desert. &amp;nbsp;Yes, and I was burned for glimpsing the sight of it, and I turned away to feel the ashes on my face. &amp;nbsp;After, I heard stories of it&#39;s further exploits as it made it&#39;s way to the fiery mountain.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Many did not believe it, for they had not seen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now, It was said that the thing had ventured forth within the very cursed lands of fire. &amp;nbsp;What is it, you ask? If not a man of flesh, then what is it that took up the sword? They say that it is a spirit. &amp;nbsp;They say that it is a spirit which has accepted and taken up the cause, and it was given a legendary sword. &amp;nbsp;It has taken up the cause to rid the world of the king of fire, and it was given a helmet of heroes past.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I say to you, I do not doubt it. &amp;nbsp;I do not doubt it, for what man can withstand the minions of the king of fire?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I lament, for none of us, and none in this world were worthy of it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/2413375412243406276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/mountain-of-fire-king.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2413375412243406276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2413375412243406276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/mountain-of-fire-king.html' title='Mountain of the Fire King'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJyMJxJ_DlRpIrHbgxYaIY9SnWGv-aynU6bthYFB1WryTQUg5J_WE6WvWoUEXNJWx4F8RyFLJ2SZP1ESTgn0SCfEn3BB8pGqBSIU7OviFRyD8WTuqyNBxRaR1Fm0kTvznOSG7pl-PFlLe/s72-c/Mountain-of-the-Fire-King.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-5836768964505770009</id><published>2012-04-13T17:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-15T21:31:36.189-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A cover for skittering things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9l9d7JzOQnEbnqTPNlCbIlMZfUwW8Ktx9IJXQ4WHtDdCxqLx3wf_cd2ZtbrZl2HwNvWwZcI9ceJA6giwYL0aROS4BQO0_VbMl8ml4exSi5ubYYACjg35Ylx2hSnYRWeFAh8QRgXFw_9f/s1600/Mysterious20pct.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9l9d7JzOQnEbnqTPNlCbIlMZfUwW8Ktx9IJXQ4WHtDdCxqLx3wf_cd2ZtbrZl2HwNvWwZcI9ceJA6giwYL0aROS4BQO0_VbMl8ml4exSi5ubYYACjg35Ylx2hSnYRWeFAh8QRgXFw_9f/s320/Mysterious20pct.jpg&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;There they hide. &amp;nbsp;In the dark of their treacherous webbed caves, and the moist rocky crevices that line the mountain&#39;s base in the gloomy woods. &amp;nbsp;They hide, and they wait. &amp;nbsp;they wait, but not for rodents or reptiles that wander the woods and the edge of the bog lands. &amp;nbsp;They wait for us.&quot; the trapper said in a monotonous tone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;They wait for us,&quot; his friend added; the light of the campfire turning and twisting his features in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;They lie and they wait, and when an unfortunate soul wanders near, the dark spidery things skitter out to catch them, they poison them, and then drag them back into the darkness to be devoured. &amp;nbsp;It is what they do.&quot; the old trapper said, relighting his pipe.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It is what they do,&quot; his friend said, &quot;and whether is was for greed or for ignorance, none ever see the poor unfortunate souls again!&quot; his friend said, glancing over at the open window of the hut.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
~~~&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This image was going to be the cover art for an upcoming &#39;creepy&#39; story ebook that I am working on, but 
it seemed too dark, and not &#39;intricate&#39; enough. &amp;nbsp;After some re-thinking,
 I decided to scrap it and start again. &amp;nbsp;I may use it for something or maybe just delete it. &amp;nbsp;The new cover image that I am 
building is to be much more &#39;spidery&#39;, a bit more colorful, yet subdued colorful, and much more detailed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What do you think? Does this image seem appropriate enough for a story about &#39;skittering&#39; things?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/5836768964505770009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/cover-for-skittering-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5836768964505770009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/5836768964505770009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/cover-for-skittering-things.html' title='A cover for skittering things'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9l9d7JzOQnEbnqTPNlCbIlMZfUwW8Ktx9IJXQ4WHtDdCxqLx3wf_cd2ZtbrZl2HwNvWwZcI9ceJA6giwYL0aROS4BQO0_VbMl8ml4exSi5ubYYACjg35Ylx2hSnYRWeFAh8QRgXFw_9f/s72-c/Mysterious20pct.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-2471881224049010497</id><published>2012-04-08T05:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-08T05:33:48.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Easter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7GK1jXTdovvuRMeZ8O2YsI4XQ-QA4DvaDkk-57STxYCCF9xI_Vf5dly0cnbtkZdtRj0mv994wpxOwylac0TaDl4V2lLNbPm9JiF3uuMp9ULlWhQpkD4pyWQapQpnxqf25t6FcWqCKdd5/s1600/Guardian+2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7GK1jXTdovvuRMeZ8O2YsI4XQ-QA4DvaDkk-57STxYCCF9xI_Vf5dly0cnbtkZdtRj0mv994wpxOwylac0TaDl4V2lLNbPm9JiF3uuMp9ULlWhQpkD4pyWQapQpnxqf25t6FcWqCKdd5/s400/Guardian+2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
Happy Easter to all of my Christian family.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/2471881224049010497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/happy-easter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2471881224049010497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/2471881224049010497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/happy-easter.html' title='Happy Easter'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7GK1jXTdovvuRMeZ8O2YsI4XQ-QA4DvaDkk-57STxYCCF9xI_Vf5dly0cnbtkZdtRj0mv994wpxOwylac0TaDl4V2lLNbPm9JiF3uuMp9ULlWhQpkD4pyWQapQpnxqf25t6FcWqCKdd5/s72-c/Guardian+2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-3704264400710057347</id><published>2012-04-04T19:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-04-04T19:42:07.738-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Typical Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbL73wjwN8Y_AKC9oucLHqaqZftertjD95ULv1iazgV0GQimJ1Y_fT2G4m5aOXTItZgM7tB0rTC1Q3RiBbYEgitksPVSVb5JhYFS3okMlB0UdSQU-qxLOCFEVcssyIuwXR3gQMvZ_tA8FK/s1600/A-Typical-Day.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbL73wjwN8Y_AKC9oucLHqaqZftertjD95ULv1iazgV0GQimJ1Y_fT2G4m5aOXTItZgM7tB0rTC1Q3RiBbYEgitksPVSVb5JhYFS3okMlB0UdSQU-qxLOCFEVcssyIuwXR3gQMvZ_tA8FK/s400/A-Typical-Day.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He found them in the king&#39;s castle, and chased them when nobody was looking. &amp;nbsp;He found them hiding in the haystacks, and he chased them until he lost them amongst the thorny bushes. &amp;nbsp;He found them wandering by the riverbank, and nearly caught them until they jumped in and swam across the river. &amp;nbsp;He found them sitting next to a campfire deep in the forest, and lost them in the gloom. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Boy, after all of this time one would think that a big bad wolf would have better things to do than chase three tasty-looking pigs on a daily basis. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One would think that he was obsessed. &amp;nbsp;But if you ask him, he would say that he chases a certain red-capped little french girl and her granny on the weekends.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To the poor little pigs, it was just another day in their lives. &amp;nbsp;This time, Mr. Big Bad&#39;s sidekick, Mr. Weasel, joined in the chase.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Pork Chops, Pork Skins, Pork Cutlets, Flambe de Pork… Boy, it sure sounds delicious, doesn&#39;t it, friend Wolf?&quot; Mr. Weasel asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes, friend Weasel!&quot; Mr. Big Bad Wolf replied, &quot;today it will be different, and we will dine well.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes, yes!&quot; Mr. Weasel replied while licking his lips, &quot;I am sure tiring of sour berries and roots.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/3704264400710057347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/typical-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/3704264400710057347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/3704264400710057347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/04/typical-day.html' title='A Typical Day'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbL73wjwN8Y_AKC9oucLHqaqZftertjD95ULv1iazgV0GQimJ1Y_fT2G4m5aOXTItZgM7tB0rTC1Q3RiBbYEgitksPVSVb5JhYFS3okMlB0UdSQU-qxLOCFEVcssyIuwXR3gQMvZ_tA8FK/s72-c/A-Typical-Day.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-8264597260991878526</id><published>2012-03-31T20:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-31T20:48:22.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend of Many Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ULpnpws0TRIMINeD74Mw_wmSmwwN8F6JPo5B9wmBF-t0u1KlSMoF3GfENiIFHU8piy5hLhmQ9Mp1FTXzzMjZy-PCdWaFcyJke4yn4P6IXPupzgQYmjmoAm4M9fdnYAi-JX85EsepRFZt/s1600/Puppofoot+Clearing.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ULpnpws0TRIMINeD74Mw_wmSmwwN8F6JPo5B9wmBF-t0u1KlSMoF3GfENiIFHU8piy5hLhmQ9Mp1FTXzzMjZy-PCdWaFcyJke4yn4P6IXPupzgQYmjmoAm4M9fdnYAi-JX85EsepRFZt/s400/Puppofoot+Clearing.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;This is the life!&quot; I said to the others.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes it is!&quot; said one of our troop.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes it is!&quot; said the others.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We travel north to a new land from an old one that we want to forget, and we collect others of our kind as we go. &amp;nbsp;Our adventures on our long road are many to retell, and those that we remember in farther days, we shall share with our next generations in times to come. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We shall tell them of the red swamplands, and of the bears that we found as we passed through there with our lives. &amp;nbsp;We shall tell them of the woodlands, and of the dangerous wolves that we fought there. &amp;nbsp;Of the men that we encountered along the long roads, those stories may be the most dramatic.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We shall also tell them of the delicious field chickens that we found in the sunny and warm pollen valleys, and of the wild roots that sustained us as we crossed the snow and ice of the frozen mountain passes, with skinny bones and cold feet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, we had many adventures. &amp;nbsp;We became good friends as our group grew, and we were sad when others of us went their own way, or remained in the valleys and prairies with others of our kind that lived there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is a great and wide world, and it is wild with adventure and new lands to explore.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One day, I myself shall return to visit many of those lands that we crossed on our long road.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Spotted Brown Stripe - Friend of many friends.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/8264597260991878526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/friend-of-many-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/8264597260991878526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/8264597260991878526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/friend-of-many-friends.html' title='Friend of Many Friends'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ULpnpws0TRIMINeD74Mw_wmSmwwN8F6JPo5B9wmBF-t0u1KlSMoF3GfENiIFHU8piy5hLhmQ9Mp1FTXzzMjZy-PCdWaFcyJke4yn4P6IXPupzgQYmjmoAm4M9fdnYAi-JX85EsepRFZt/s72-c/Puppofoot+Clearing.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-9113680254980968600</id><published>2012-03-30T13:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-30T13:46:59.775-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a relaxing Spring scene.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5P2UQia-stQIw8ZLlcmrKMDxexNvwIeEMlF6T4t2uEMWbZpEuYMSwJ7GE7hUkw9jDFSiU_DB84ZEkDAGUWrTu8xF20PKah_s1hyphenhyphenXMgKj2qXexjy1-IvrUTW3zrQfe0K5yxxzeTRovsRD8/s1600/Il+Glorietta.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5P2UQia-stQIw8ZLlcmrKMDxexNvwIeEMlF6T4t2uEMWbZpEuYMSwJ7GE7hUkw9jDFSiU_DB84ZEkDAGUWrTu8xF20PKah_s1hyphenhyphenXMgKj2qXexjy1-IvrUTW3zrQfe0K5yxxzeTRovsRD8/s400/Il+Glorietta.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is just a peaceful scene with a wrongly placed moon. &amp;nbsp;Yes, I know that the moon isn&#39;t in it&#39;s proper place, and in the wrong phase, but I wanted it in the scene for dramatic reasons. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I built this scene six years ago, and posted it here to give it a new life. &amp;nbsp;I am inspired to re-build it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It doesn&#39;t have a story behind it, it is just a relaxing Spring scene.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/9113680254980968600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/just-relaxing-spring-scene.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/9113680254980968600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/9113680254980968600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/just-relaxing-spring-scene.html' title='Just a relaxing Spring scene.'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5P2UQia-stQIw8ZLlcmrKMDxexNvwIeEMlF6T4t2uEMWbZpEuYMSwJ7GE7hUkw9jDFSiU_DB84ZEkDAGUWrTu8xF20PKah_s1hyphenhyphenXMgKj2qXexjy1-IvrUTW3zrQfe0K5yxxzeTRovsRD8/s72-c/Il+Glorietta.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-1309008399860919359</id><published>2012-03-28T17:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-28T17:01:10.539-05:00</updated><title type='text'>&quot;The Steps of Arae&quot; Illustration</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3OadF96PLKz1EW8LvKjCulKtpfQ3TmuMz_LTWnmYY3189wKk7Sz27xl6kG58ZhcXDXqNro95mcHoi2OgKyRhlhRAL1xi9H5q9dfRGM23pYc3Z8YqhPRbb2xVt0brX2Ux545LPpWqQbOa/s1600/Steps-of-Arae.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3OadF96PLKz1EW8LvKjCulKtpfQ3TmuMz_LTWnmYY3189wKk7Sz27xl6kG58ZhcXDXqNro95mcHoi2OgKyRhlhRAL1xi9H5q9dfRGM23pYc3Z8YqhPRbb2xVt0brX2Ux545LPpWqQbOa/s400/Steps-of-Arae.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This image is part of a series of illustrations that I built for a story that has remained incomplete for approximately five years. &amp;nbsp;I keep pushing off some stories in order to work on others. &amp;nbsp;I have so many of those these days. &amp;nbsp;At first, I thought that this story was one of the many that were lost in the great flash drive smushings of 2009. &amp;nbsp;I lost many complete, incomplete, and story ideas. &amp;nbsp;It was such a tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Luckily, this one and others were saved elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As you can tell, this one is a fantasy set in an unnamed land. &amp;nbsp;I usually do not like to use common names and places in my stories, so this story is not set anywhere as in ancient Europe or anything. &amp;nbsp;Maybe it took place on an ancient land that only existed only until the last time that the continents moved, or centuries before then.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh yes, the title of this illustration is not the title of the story. &amp;nbsp;In the story, Arae is the name of a land where a dark fortress stood. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, eventually I will complete the illustrations, and more importantly, the story itself. &amp;nbsp;With those illustrations, it will&amp;nbsp;make for a pretty substantial ebook size.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We&#39;ll see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
p.s., if people are interested in this story, and what it is about, add a comment. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps I will put aside my current project and complete and release this one next.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
G</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/1309008399860919359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/steps-of-arae-illustration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1309008399860919359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/1309008399860919359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/steps-of-arae-illustration.html' title='&quot;The Steps of Arae&quot; Illustration'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd3OadF96PLKz1EW8LvKjCulKtpfQ3TmuMz_LTWnmYY3189wKk7Sz27xl6kG58ZhcXDXqNro95mcHoi2OgKyRhlhRAL1xi9H5q9dfRGM23pYc3Z8YqhPRbb2xVt0brX2Ux545LPpWqQbOa/s72-c/Steps-of-Arae.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-6507509729044692891</id><published>2012-03-26T20:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-26T20:26:36.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monarch Hill</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvqE9wXu3SSLrDDKXsUWuDhfFgM-jDBthJpL5fVa0koHedyMY4b1hy6Ha_q4pLYivl_-tygaH4iB8nZqtrY9L4zeI9HYdXuj_M9aPeBfQC9Df18X_ZoghDAUYJHO-05bbZO_WzxISIL8O/s1600/Monarch+Hill.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvqE9wXu3SSLrDDKXsUWuDhfFgM-jDBthJpL5fVa0koHedyMY4b1hy6Ha_q4pLYivl_-tygaH4iB8nZqtrY9L4zeI9HYdXuj_M9aPeBfQC9Df18X_ZoghDAUYJHO-05bbZO_WzxISIL8O/s400/Monarch+Hill.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;The monarchs that come here in the summertime have been known to blanket the long grass and wild carrot of these rolling hills. &amp;nbsp;What a sight it is!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That is what Maya Mulberry, the pony rancher would say.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We asked about her when we went to the Honey Festival. &amp;nbsp;The long-time residents of the area said that she was part of a caravan that was heading north. &amp;nbsp;The residents said that the caravan stopped in the town for the night before moving on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, as fate would dictate, the caravan left early the next day. &amp;nbsp;Unfortunately, the child Maya was left behind. &amp;nbsp;One of the nursemaids found her, and immediately notified the watch. &amp;nbsp;The town elders sent a rider in search of the caravan.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The rider found the caravan, and those who led it. &amp;nbsp;He informed them of the child that was left behind. &amp;nbsp;When the rider returned, he gave a letter to the elders that had been written by the leaders of the caravan:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Dear good people,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We are survivors from the lands in the southeast. &amp;nbsp;We were besieged by raiders that would continually attack our little village. &amp;nbsp;Over time, the raiders became more brazen, and eventually started to do in our people and take over their homes. &amp;nbsp;We had a council in secret, and decided that it would be best to leave. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By cover of night, we packed our things and left. &amp;nbsp;Some of us returned to the abandoned village and set fire to every building. &amp;nbsp;If we weren&#39;t going to be left alone, then the raiders weren&#39;t going to have what we had built. &amp;nbsp;The last of us said that he saw the raiders return to find smoldering buildings and ruined fields.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Of the child, we do not know who she belonged to. &amp;nbsp;It was possible that her kin were victims of the raiders.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The long-time residents said that it did not take long for the people of the town to become smitten with the child, and that she was immediately claimed by a couple that still lives in the town. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maya had become a member of the town, and it was clear that she was beloved by everyone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The long-time residents also said that she married and moved to a newly founded town north of Monarch Hill. &amp;nbsp;They said that she lives there with her husband and three children, and often comes down and visits her parents and the town.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps, we will visit the pony ranch one day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/6507509729044692891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/monarch-hill.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/6507509729044692891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/6507509729044692891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/monarch-hill.html' title='Monarch Hill'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvqE9wXu3SSLrDDKXsUWuDhfFgM-jDBthJpL5fVa0koHedyMY4b1hy6Ha_q4pLYivl_-tygaH4iB8nZqtrY9L4zeI9HYdXuj_M9aPeBfQC9Df18X_ZoghDAUYJHO-05bbZO_WzxISIL8O/s72-c/Monarch+Hill.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-7859613361174360796</id><published>2012-03-25T04:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-25T04:15:30.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgotten Room</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5tEKA6ahc5JK2L16Nu6ZPnOm9FClYKpvJHYgcs2vMVjNth5aBbWykiPPMN8Vk8upyZLj3vbKvb2Kja0EbZqL4Iy06Qb5uNm3ts3dFtyCxX0hz0hWb86g3nebh-R1Qrd0j70ps9nRsZP3/s1600/forgotten-room.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5tEKA6ahc5JK2L16Nu6ZPnOm9FClYKpvJHYgcs2vMVjNth5aBbWykiPPMN8Vk8upyZLj3vbKvb2Kja0EbZqL4Iy06Qb5uNm3ts3dFtyCxX0hz0hWb86g3nebh-R1Qrd0j70ps9nRsZP3/s400/forgotten-room.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the cursed prince reigned in his kingdom in the circled mountains, the nobles did conspire amongst themselves to destroy him. &amp;nbsp;They risked their lives to do so, for amongst those of his family before him, he was the most evil. &amp;nbsp;They risked themselves so to be free of him. &amp;nbsp;The evil prince survived many attempts at his life; in doing so, he obtained many wounds, and thus, consulted dark beings to heal him and to extend his life. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The evil man retaliated against the nobles and the people in his kingdom by many vicious means. &amp;nbsp;He used the power of warlocks and other dark beings for his own protection. &amp;nbsp;He surrounded his castle with fallen soldiers and creeping things that would haunt the streets of the surrounding towns and villages in the night.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As time passed, many adventurers offered their skills to the nobles, and ventured into the prince&#39;s castle. &amp;nbsp;It was said that many entered the shrouded place, but none escaped to claim the rewards offered by the nobles. &amp;nbsp;At times, several adventurers entered the dark woods surrounding the castle, but as it always went, none ever returned.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Brave companies of men who ventured as far as the outskirts of the dark woods claimed to see bones strewn about the trees, and the silent forms of dark things waiting amongst them; they beckoned the brave to enter. &amp;nbsp;At times, the prince himself would come forth, and lead great armies of fallen soldiers to raze towns and lay siege to kingdoms. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He would then return triumphant to his dark castle, and dark laughter would be heard in the fog-covered woods.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Of the few adventurers that did manage to enter the towers, none would never return, nor their souls escape, for the evil prince had more than evil minions to wander the hallways and chambers of his castle. &amp;nbsp;One such adventurer was heard saying: &quot;Hold my ale, and my gold reward ready, for I shall return with the prince&#39;s blood on my sword!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/7859613361174360796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/forgotten-room.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/7859613361174360796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/7859613361174360796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/forgotten-room.html' title='Forgotten Room'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5tEKA6ahc5JK2L16Nu6ZPnOm9FClYKpvJHYgcs2vMVjNth5aBbWykiPPMN8Vk8upyZLj3vbKvb2Kja0EbZqL4Iy06Qb5uNm3ts3dFtyCxX0hz0hWb86g3nebh-R1Qrd0j70ps9nRsZP3/s72-c/forgotten-room.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-548581225631877406</id><published>2012-03-23T23:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-23T23:16:47.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting for the Good Fish</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SiPrW1UceoV0it5fFbqeMuOQk_IMjuwDnFZzT8BncfIiVcD6GaMa_tzlxmuMzxjL1B4Rx_fljIccsUBn3gSCzc1TVCKIk1XWXgnQXIedeqLif733J1dPQ71HY6a4PXqnNIpnjl0EQKxb/s1600/Waiting-for-the-Good-Fish.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SiPrW1UceoV0it5fFbqeMuOQk_IMjuwDnFZzT8BncfIiVcD6GaMa_tzlxmuMzxjL1B4Rx_fljIccsUBn3gSCzc1TVCKIk1XWXgnQXIedeqLif733J1dPQ71HY6a4PXqnNIpnjl0EQKxb/s400/Waiting-for-the-Good-Fish.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Most days, we go about our business as we do. &amp;nbsp;We wake, prepare ourselves, go to work, come home and spend time with the family for a short time before going to bed. &amp;nbsp;Others have their lives, and they spend it as they do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Most days, we neglect to focus on other things; like the bird that sings in the tree as we prepare ourselves for a new day. &amp;nbsp;We do not pay attention to the flowers that face the sun, or of their scent as we rush out of the door.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We should take the time to appreciate the world and those around us. &amp;nbsp;While we work away at our assigned position, the world is passing us by, and before we know it, our gray hairs begin to outnumber our colored ones.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
More than being just an image of two children fishing with a pole that may likely never catch anything, this is also an image that represents two children that wish that their father was with them rather than at work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is too soon when they grow and go their own way, and the fishing pole that never caught anything sits propped up in the garage collecting dust.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/548581225631877406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/waiting-for-good-fish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/548581225631877406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/548581225631877406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/waiting-for-good-fish.html' title='Waiting for the Good Fish'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SiPrW1UceoV0it5fFbqeMuOQk_IMjuwDnFZzT8BncfIiVcD6GaMa_tzlxmuMzxjL1B4Rx_fljIccsUBn3gSCzc1TVCKIk1XWXgnQXIedeqLif733J1dPQ71HY6a4PXqnNIpnjl0EQKxb/s72-c/Waiting-for-the-Good-Fish.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-748502171523883799</id><published>2012-03-22T15:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-22T15:54:13.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Goat Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-yE8cx__SAMjMGv2UQSyfDnr3DJ9y_H5rVP0TItlt8IIXfSDE8kEH6EcUnjjhNfal9y8JOIiLv-vt-0SAJtNUJVXrMAAnGq4d58dtTdHiBJf2uOAvKyvj4LOaIBrsn7OhwO1k9f05V8d/s1600/Goat+Tree.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-yE8cx__SAMjMGv2UQSyfDnr3DJ9y_H5rVP0TItlt8IIXfSDE8kEH6EcUnjjhNfal9y8JOIiLv-vt-0SAJtNUJVXrMAAnGq4d58dtTdHiBJf2uOAvKyvj4LOaIBrsn7OhwO1k9f05V8d/s400/Goat+Tree.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;The following story is taken from real life. &amp;nbsp;It is my own account of a event that I actually experienced as a child. &amp;nbsp;To this day, when I think about it, It still gives me the freak-outs. &amp;nbsp;I certainly have no explanation for it. &amp;nbsp;It is just something that happened, and cannot be explained. &amp;nbsp;Well, here it goes...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;The Goat Tree:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;As a child, we would visit family far in southern Texas. &amp;nbsp;Although I haven&#39;t been there in decades, I remember a particular path that joined our relative&#39;s house, and the main road that led into town. &amp;nbsp;In that part of the land, and in those days, much of it was still undeveloped and so, much of it was still wild land. &amp;nbsp;There were wolves there, some wild horses, and wild boar there that could take your leg if you weren&#39;t careful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;Anyway, as I remember, we would often sit before a campfire while the older family members would tell stories. &amp;nbsp;One night, after everyone had gone to bed, I awoke to go to the outhouse. &amp;nbsp;I was walking along the small path, when I heard a goat bleating. &amp;nbsp;Well, it may not seem like something that would be scary to you, but you must understand that I was about eight years old at the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;I knew that our family did not have goats, and that wild goats weren&#39;t common there. &amp;nbsp;I remember looking around the flat land and seeing nothing. &amp;nbsp;The only thing close by was a dead tree. &amp;nbsp;I started walking again, and again I heard the goat bleating as if it were no more than five yards from me. &amp;nbsp;There was nothing there, and for an eight year old, I can say that it was a terrifying experience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;Well, I kept that experience to myself for some years. &amp;nbsp;One day, I mentioned it to an elderly relative who used to live in that area. &amp;nbsp;When he told me what old dead tree was used for, well I was freaked. &amp;nbsp;He said that when he was a boy, he remembered that relatives and neighbors would tie goats to that tree for &quot;meat processing&quot;, and that it was known amongst his childhood friends as the goat tree. &amp;nbsp;He said that he didn&#39;t like going near that tree because he would hear things there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;The tree itself has been long gone by many decades now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;It may not seem all that scary to you, but to me, it was a frightening childhood experience that haunts me, and remains unexplained to this day.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/748502171523883799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/goat-tree.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/748502171523883799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/748502171523883799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/goat-tree.html' title='The Goat Tree'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-yE8cx__SAMjMGv2UQSyfDnr3DJ9y_H5rVP0TItlt8IIXfSDE8kEH6EcUnjjhNfal9y8JOIiLv-vt-0SAJtNUJVXrMAAnGq4d58dtTdHiBJf2uOAvKyvj4LOaIBrsn7OhwO1k9f05V8d/s72-c/Goat+Tree.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2938699733587366540.post-8623624161568748777</id><published>2012-03-21T20:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-21T20:59:37.094-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspired by Vermeer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhLAgiPwoFdNVxwjSgG_hEdalmyzqlabnZg_ROsZQiF2XwXc0imkgOEoIuBtQN6mo4jC9fpTE6FSK6AzRGUqmJ37KsUTTNyyY_iHMhlER2Fo_PSXo3aMmLGNYFamuXaFnThcPSmRg0UBU/s1600/Inspired-by-Vermeer.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhLAgiPwoFdNVxwjSgG_hEdalmyzqlabnZg_ROsZQiF2XwXc0imkgOEoIuBtQN6mo4jC9fpTE6FSK6AzRGUqmJ37KsUTTNyyY_iHMhlER2Fo_PSXo3aMmLGNYFamuXaFnThcPSmRg0UBU/s400/Inspired-by-Vermeer.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was in a contest once where basically the rule was to take a painting by a famous artist and try to reproduce it using 3d software. &amp;nbsp;This image was inspired by Jan Vermeer&#39;s Girl with a Golden Earring.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The figure itself is a Poser character. &amp;nbsp;I built the headdress and the earring myself. &amp;nbsp;It was a very interesting project. &amp;nbsp;I imported it into Vue, and rendered the scene. &amp;nbsp;I added the Scratch post work in PhotoShop.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/feeds/8623624161568748777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/inspired-by-vermeer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/8623624161568748777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2938699733587366540/posts/default/8623624161568748777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muskrat3d.blogspot.com/2012/03/inspired-by-vermeer.html' title='Inspired by Vermeer'/><author><name>Muskrat3D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15556199821340443959</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIOu1cMgmvM7xysOTs0OGLmca0sgrAZY-PBDhlQS4P_YPr3VvvaArdUe_TcincbM0eKyOQ1eNn61apOj8PZq4beJEr_E1Gpr5GEqL-MtP6sr-Pxzd59uPMLPPJPDYeC4/s220/critter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhLAgiPwoFdNVxwjSgG_hEdalmyzqlabnZg_ROsZQiF2XwXc0imkgOEoIuBtQN6mo4jC9fpTE6FSK6AzRGUqmJ37KsUTTNyyY_iHMhlER2Fo_PSXo3aMmLGNYFamuXaFnThcPSmRg0UBU/s72-c/Inspired-by-Vermeer.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>