3 Days, 300 words.

Our gaming group gathered to launch our next chronicle: dhampyrs stalking the nights and days in Santa Fortuna. From a few mental images a character began to grow, to be fleshed out this week in preparation for our next session. Afterwards I braved the cold for a night at Flesh. Fewer people that I knew were there then expected, and I didn’t quite lose the plot on the dance floor. Eventually the evening warmed up musically and I hit my stride. This evening was mellow, which means the universe is saving up for another dose of rock-starocity.

I shambled into consciousness and made it out to Waltham to oversee the finals for the Warhammer league I was running. I was eliminated in the first round by one of the best players in all of New England, but only barely. I had him sweating the entire game; he was convinced I had won until we added up the points. The evening was rounded out with a small yet fabulous party. Old Blue Eyes was the death of me. I’m too tall for video snowboarding. An old friend has closed me out of her life forever, no explanation given.

Any day you can sleep in until noon is a good day. I managed to accomplish a lot of little things around the house: cleaning, organizing, finishing the sealing of the windows. My quietly evil necromancer died near the end of our DND session, so I fixed some damaged models while the party avenged my death. There was more Witch Hunter Robin, I’m in the home stretch of the series. This weekend had a little bit of everything: highs and lows, crowds and solitude. The thread that wound the whole weekend together was made of satisfaction and enjoyment. Good times.