The Morning After

A Story by Richard Leon (Copyright 2016 reprinted here for personal use!)

Robert Mendez never felt a hangover like this one.

After a wild night at a local bar in Las Cruces, New Mexico, Robert wakes up for work to remember his friend Jason and all those drinks he devoured.

Today is an important day as a powerful couple from Innsmouth, Massachusetts would be coming in to buy some property. Robert knew this would be the sale of a lifetime.

Yet reality is not cooperating.

Memories of Cynthia, a doctor he once knew, swims across his mind; along with potent, reality breaking, visions of hell.

Follow Robert on a trip “The Morning After”.

Morning calls.

I wish it would hang the fuck up.

 Out of bed now, stumbling into the bathroom down the hall, my hand flips on the fluorescent light. Time to brush the fangs. Fingers part the small, mirrored doors to the cabinet, grabbing a white plastic package. That is definitely not floss; it’s my ex-girlfriend’s birth control. I groan and throw the package back in the cupboard. Lucid and displaced, the night before rushes into my mind—drinks, lights—distant flashes of strangers grazing up against my memory.  Did I punch someone?  My hand hurts.  I begin the ritual of oral cleansing using a battery powered robotic instrument designed to destroy the plaque invaders, and then a distinct face finds me. Yes, I remember now. Stunning perfection in an oval setting, with high cheekbones…red dress…I should have—

Damn toothpaste! All over my jacket! God, morning grooming is such an arcane dance, anyway.  Who am I impressing? Those walking banks of cash? So they may piss loving streams of money into my boss’s account?  Meanwhile I get the yellow overflow.

Scrubbing off the toothpaste, I look into the mirror, remembering that face. I think I’d seen her before, in a white smock, maybe hospital garb.  Intelligent, beauty like a Latin-soap opera star.  A shy, inviting smile.  Yes! That smile! She appears in total focus now.  Cynthia.  I know her.

Oh, right.  It all comes back, hitting like a hangover.

Dr. Cynthia Garcia-Lopez. She treated my ex- girlfriend for endometriosis.

Out of my league? Possibly. But hell, worth a shot…

“Confidence can take you far son,” Dad would say, “but it will not land you on the moon.” Right now I feel like a dead space monkey coming back to earth. After all those drinks last night it was a wonder I was even awake…or sober…I know I did about 10 shots of Jager and a twelve-pack of Shiner all by myself. Well, my friend Jason bought the first round at the bar, a local Irish pub named Shamrocks. Jason has such a shit-eating grin, especially when something is up. He had a huge one when he bought the first round. I swore I saw bird feathers poking out of his mouth. Then we moved to somewhere and…it was a great concert, live band, beer flowing down so smooth. I saw her, man she had such great curves, it made my eyes pop out. Jason told me “Don’t drool on the floor man.” I had to stop staring, get some nerve up and talk to her. So I did…

Man, I need to quit thinking and drive to work.

I got the call in last week from the owner, a power couple from a small town, Innsmouth, Massachusetts. Lucy Frankincense and Ferdinand Myrrh were coming into town, with their old money passed down from wealthy families in the area. This could be my lucky break, an extra splash of piss overflowing into my coffers. About fucking time.

In the truck, I can smell everything—the weed we smoked, perfume from my ex blending in with armor-all and a cherry flavor that I really hate. Time to put some Armani cologne on…fuck those smells. Usually I cannot smell much but things seem to be in detail. Like the fact I still have yet to turn on the ignition.

Down the road from the high mountain, cruising around 50 through the twists and turns, a few people are on the road like me, going to work, usually for the big bases White Sands or Ft. Bliss. Wow, this old truck is driving so smooth. It’s like running your hand on wet glass. Now the road is turning in on itself, hmm…seems like the road is going down at a bad angle…  well, there are some road constructions signs up…. Let me kick this thing down a gear and get out of this.  Shit!… this is not how I remember the road…now I am up on a small, one-car lane road driving in the air…like a hot wheels car and things are just so… damn smooth. Oh, I can see it so clearly now…giant bats flying by, with little green men piloting them, leather helmets and goggles, too. They are waving…I need to wave. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back on the road, Rob!

Coffee.  Must get some damn coffee. Starbucks is on the way. I should stop there, yea. 

Slamming on my breaks, I slow from about 60 to 25 at once.  Fucking traffic. I should have hit a 7/11, but it’s not the same as that fresh, sweet, bitter reward at the end of such an exhausting morning work effort.  Like I said, it’s all a dance, and the java keeps me moving. My Power-Up potion. Yup, I signed my soul away to that heavenly brew, enriched with mystical cow fluids and strange sugary powders that enhance my reaction times and increase my vibrations within my work domain. Just thinking about it in gaming terms, traffic into morning places are just like those pesky guards in video games when you are trying to get into the temple for the goodies. Just swerve around, honk like you are blasting them to bits, signal for the good guys and pretty much cut in front of any bastard getting in your way. Fuck them! The gold is mine!

I perform the ritual of turning off the beast, shift to park, ignition off, keys in hand and good mag to read It’s an old sci-fi magazine from the 70’s I picked up from my friend Cecil; over the past 50 years he’s collected thousands of books, magazines, comic books and other readable paraphernalia to include pamphlets, business cards and even small fliers. Only half of his house is organized into bookshelves, the other half is still in boxes six years later after the divorce. With so many hidden treasures to read, I go there often, to sip a brew and bum a book.

Finally. My goal is within sight, the doorway into heaven approaches, my Power-Up awaits!

Damn dog needs to quit yapping. I turn around and see an old lady with her Yorkshire terrier stuffed inside a handbag making her way in, quick on my heels. I do the gentlemanly thing, respecting my elders and cursing under my breath all at the same time. I hold the door open, the smooth glass door parting for me.

Into a starry abyss.

As I hold the door open, I stare in dumbfound belief at the galaxies beyond, stars winking in and out of their fixed patterns. My mind forms more patterns from the shimmering expanse: a crab, two lovers, an archer, all connected by twinkling dots.  Something glowing purple lies near the bottom close to welcome mat into Starbucks.  The old woman walks in nonchalantly, without any emotion or loss of stride, the dog goes off yapping crazily and then whimpers. Both of them fall down, and I stare at their decent, hairs standing up on my neck. “Every time you open a door the possibilities are endless, bro.”

I could feel his smile behind me, like a heat lamp. Jason.

I whirl around “What the fuck is going on, man?”

“Shut the door bro and open it again.”

I do just that, with a speed fueled by fear. Inside lays my goal just like before. The baristas are making brew in their nice green aprons, a long line of over a dozen customers await to make orders; even more sit around their tables, with tablets, phones and the occasional laptop powered on, also waiting for their Power-Up for the day. Energy crackles in the air, smells from exotic South American and African locations reach me, giving me promises of much needed energy. The taste is almost there. I ignore what happened earlier as something from a dream and walk right in. There she is, right in the corner reading her tablet. A yellow nimbus surrounds her and she looks right at me. Cynthia’s smile washes over me like fresh, cold water. Her warm eyes hold mine. Fuck it, I am walking over there and claiming a seat next to her.

“Hey, how are ya?” I say.

“Doing well, Rob, doing well. Are you OK? You look pretty pale…”

I pause for a second.  Am I okay? My memory goes back to the night before when I had just arrived to Shamrocks and saw her instantly, at the bar, laughing with a girlfriend. Angels laughing at god’s jokes would sound like her. We locked eyes. For a moment I felt something stirring within me. Opportunities opened up, things yet to be explored loomed before my inner field of vision. It was just her and me. I needed to get closer this time. It was different from the last time we met. She was treating my ex and I was just the loyal boyfriend waiting in the doctor’s office, anchored to this relationship. Now it would be different. Then Jason came up to me right from the other side of the bar. “Hey, Bro! What took you so long? Here have a drink on me.” He blocked my vision, interrupting the entanglement that was taking place between Cynthia and me. I went over to Jason’s table and forgot about the incident at the bar for the rest of the night. It was as if the encounter didn’t happen.  That sly little shit, always cock-blocking.

“I will be fine after this coffee, listen, do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.” She looked at me and the same feeling from last night hit again, this time with a double punch to the third eye. My heart fluttered for a second and a leaping lizard just tried to crawl out of my belly. A warm shiver ran down my spine, like a new sock put on for the first time. Here she was, a doctor sitting at Starbucks in a white lab coat, name tag, aqua green hospital scrubs, white reeboks with pink and white socks, French manicured nails tap on a Kindle Fire HD smiling at me with a perfect set of teeth, parting succulent lips. Warm brown eyes engaged me, holding me close. I needed to get closer to her. I place my magazine on the table near her. I was not about to sit across from her. Something told me that was right.

Back into the line, right with the other gamers waiting for their Power-Up. I should’ve got a waitress to order for me so I can bask in Cynthia’s radiance, but there are none. Ears popping now, with a weird ringing in my head, a smell, like a rotten fart moves towards me, engulfing my senses as I walk. I tighten my stomach, pulling back my gag reflexes. And then he shows up again, this time with a serious look on his face. I could still see a small feather poking out of the corner of his mouth. Lights in the room darken; a small fog clutches my final footsteps into the line right behind Jason.

“What are you doing up so early man? You don’t have a job. Fuck, you cannot even afford to replace those old glasses you keep taping up. How the hell did you afford that round of shots and beers last night? And what was that bullshit at the door?”

“Don’t worry bro, things are working out for me. You’ll see soon.” He smiled again. Heat washed over me, but this time the heat was coming from everywhere. I could see the fog thicken on the floor, rising up.

My sight wavers, shimmering like a vision in the desert. Things go back to the Starbucks universe. Jason is gone, and I am next in line to order.

“What would you like today, sir? Care for our new strawberry, demon quiche?”

“What did you say?”

“Would you like a taste of hell?”

“Eh, not really, I just want my usual Venti Café Mocha with Real Milk, and caramel topping.”

“Coming right up, sir. That will be $4.95.”

“So I get a nickel back?”


“What a coincidence, I bet you play Nickel-back in your song list. Even in hell they give change and play crappy bands?”


“Thanks for the taste but it smells just like Jason does now.”  A wave of power comes over me.  “The coffee better be on point or I will make sure Satan has your genitalia on a roast pit.”

That did not make sense at all. I have to be dreaming still. Possibly tripping, but if I was, I should have some other side effects right? I would never say this stuff in public. Hidden thoughts, what I think are not for public consumption. I need to do what my mentor Patrick taught me. Meditation, combined with a simple incantation, thought process and deep yoga breathing. It is almost ritualistic except there are no corny robes, flashy daggers or mumbo jumbo. The real deal enables you to control your own reality, shaking off all bad external influences. Reality is blurring and I am losing it. Jason did something to me, either in the drinks spiked with drugs, or possibly worse. I can feel these hallucinations coming from him. There are worse possible explanations involving sorcery and dimensional summoning from fragmented realities. Either way it stinks of his work. That’s it, Jason is a fucking asshole.

In my imagination I summon a blue, glowing, glass panel tetrahedron in masculine form to surround my body. Energy pulses across the object, beating to my heart rate. I sit down in my head, cross-legged. Slowly I take several deep breaths, exhaling forcefully. My breathing turns shallow after the seventeenth breath and I chant:

Calmness descends upon me,

I breathe in the wealth of the world, everything good and important to me.

Chaos has no place in me,

I breathe out the poverty of the world, everything terrible and trivial to me.

I am whole in spirit.

A clean breeze washes over me, removing the leftover disturbing images from earlier. The taint of Jason’s meddling leaves my mind and body. The coffee shop comes into clarity.

“Well, that worked.”

“What worked, sir?” The female barista looks at me with her frumpy face full of pain and sorrow. Envy shines in her eyes as she sees the calmness in me.

“Oh nothing, I had to get my bearings again.”

“Very good, sir. Here is your coffee and six cents back.”

“YES.” I go back to sit down with Cynthia, smiling the whole way with my eyes and heart, shining. Then my wrist watch starts to beep at me. 9 am. Crap.

I go to the table and tell her “Sorry, Cynthia, running late. Would you mind if I call later?”

My anxiety doesn’t affect her. “Sure,” she says, calmly. “My shift starts in two hours and I go on break at three. Call me then.” She grabs the napkin from the bottom of her cup. With an elegant pen in hand she writes out her number on the scratch paper in bold lettering. Then she folds the napkin in half and kisses the fold with her mouth. I take the newly created scroll with care, folding it several times before stuffing it in my pocket. It smells like her. I think she was preparing for this moment. Nice, man, and I had nothing…I could have brought her a Danish or something, but, no, I was being harassed by a douche.

I glance back one more time to see her; my breath catches a bit as she sits poised in her chair, mouth pursed to take a sip, eyes lowered at the electrical device containing her interest. I do remember she reads a lot of romance novels; fantasy ones with elves having sex with humans. I can be an elf. I just need some pointy ears and a little bit of magic….

I open the door slowly, hesitating, in case Jason has a trap. Nothing.

Sunlight warms the air. An occasional breeze floats down from the mountains giving crispness. I move towards the beast with my Power-Up, other hand reaching for sunglasses that are smashed in my pants pocket. This is much better now that the light is filtered out. Everything feels right. No more crazy shit going on, no deep holes into outer space, no more quick visits to hell. I got her number, unlocking the achievement, ‘You Got Her Digits.’ Nothing can go wrong.

On the road I put on some music as I drive to the office. I work right across the street from Big’uns which is mighty convenient. The place has a few babes but the service sucks. Who waits for 45 minutes on an order of ten wings and a cold beer? Better luck at Shamrocks.

The radio buzzes in: “Hey bro, I see you got her number. Good for you, you always get her number.”

“Jason? How did you get into my radio?”

“Don’t worry bro, I just wanted to let you know, it will all be over soon.”

“Yea? What do you mean?”

“I am going to break your reality, Rob. Smash it into itty-bitty pieces. Nothing will be left of you or your sanity.”


I turn the knob trying to find anything on, nothing. I pop in my Zune player that is over five years old. Still nothing.

When I see Jason again I am going to break that smile on his face with my fists.

I pull up to the shop, a local real estate office, rented out and fixed up with landscaping, proper well-lit sign and beige bricks. The place looks as bland as a cup of black, generic coffee. No character at all. But then again if you look closely you can see the fresh dog shit in the nearby groomed holly bushes and the many cracks in the sidewalk due to the growth of weeds which were killed just two days ago. Some parking places have faded lines so people park in all kinds of crazy positions, some taking up to three parking spaces. I work for a typical mom and pop operation, barely making the bills, especially in this economy. But I love it here.

People who come to Las Cruces either A. work for Uncle Sam, B. worked for Uncle Sam or C. crazy with a side of lunatic. I met a man from Canada who owns two thousand acres out in Nova Scotia. He wanted a place on the side of the Organ Mountains near the base. I told him I can get him near but there are parks at the base. He said “Fine, but I better be able to get very close to the Organ Mountains. My birds need the mountain air and the cliffs to dwell in.” Turns out the man breeds vultures and other large carrion birds. Locals who are too poor to eat at the grocery store complain about the “lack of roadkill” now. Today I get to meet a couple also interested in land up near the base, Lucy Frankincense and Ferdinand Myrrh. I had to read the names twice to make sure I was not getting played. Besides being filthy rich they might be religious nuts; I don’t know. I do know they have money in the bank and their credit score is around 800 which is fantastic. It seems almost too good. There was a catch I bet.

The parking lot had several cars, the receptionist’s Honda Accord, one of the owner’s, Cadillac from the 80’s pink and gaudy and a very odd car, no it was more than a car, six wheels with a low body style like a Lamborghini but less angled and more curvy. The front of the car looked like the face of an old totem pole, wide with an evil grin. I think it just winked at me. Shaking my head I walk into the office, hearing the jingle of bells on the door.

Smells of iron, sulfur and shit mixed in the air with piss and fear. I need to get out of here, but I have to see what is going on. Blood splatted in small Jackson Pollok style strokes decorate the tile floor. The reception desk was empty and all of the adjoining rooms to the main reception area were open. The sound of a copier whirring away with a large amount of fliers was the only motion, except for me. Moving closer to the reception desk, I see handprints in blood on top of the desk. There she was, poor woman who smiled every day when I came in, crumpled into a ball with blood in front and behind her. I moved her body and stare at a hole right in the left side of her chest and another in her eye socket. I could see right through her. My lips tightened. Who would hurt this poor woman?


A single set of footprints ringed down the hall, coming from owner’s office.

“Hey bro, want to have a chat?”

“Not really, I would rather smash your face in with my fists.”

“Not this time, bro. Time for you to check out.”

From one of the meeting rooms, Lucy and Ferdinand walked out. Slick and angular they came forward with a smooth gait, as if they floated towards me. Dressed in all black, they seemed like the power couple I imagined with pale white skin and dark hair. A rich, arrogant gothic look draped over them complete with ornate jewelry and even fancier clothes. Armani suits and Versace dresses are not cheap. Sulfur rammed up my nose with a blend of exotic spices, Middle Eastern in flavor. I never smelled frankincense or myrrh, so it was very odd to my nose. Jason was on the other side of me. All three stared at me. I stood up but could not move. Trapped, I could twist my body but my feet were firmly planted.

“Alright, Jason, tell me once and for all what are you doing to me?”

“It’s simple, Rob. You will not exist in this universe anymore. For that to happen I had to acquire some last minute souls in exchange for your existence on this plane, so those two piggies will work.” Jason held up two bloody hands with small vials filled with some type of shiny, glowing, silvery-blue liquid. “Originally you were supposed to become lost at Cecil’s place but you found the Magazine…the only anchor you needed for this world. I altered reality with a spiked drink that should have led you to fall into the abyss but you had to be all gentleman-like and open the door. Finally I had enough and I brought hell to your door-step only to have you get out with some type of mystic mumbo-jumbo. And once again you are getting the girl and I am having none of it!”

“What do you mean I get the girl?”

“You and I have been rivals and friends in many existences, mostly rivals, friends when it was my turn to wait for a good opportunity. Finally I summoned two lords from the demon planes and I made a pact with them. I arranged this meeting as a final effort on my part. You will not exist here anymore, Robert Mendez. Goodbye.”

The main door opens up. Cynthia comes strolling in and stops three feet in the doorway, magazine in hand. Her face turns white and looks right at me. I stare back at her, helpless.

Lucy and Ferdinand hold hands and make strange gestures with their opposite hands. Red, shiny mist floats towards me, engulfing my body. Things start to fade slowly, Except for Cynthia. As I fade the last sound I hear is cursing from Jason, “It is not supposed to work like that, dammit! Why is she fading too? You lords of hell are supposed to take him! Not her!”

The gothic strangers reply in unison, “They have been fated to explore the universe together, and no power on heaven or earth can separate them.”

Everything is white now as the universe is no more. I still see her floating next to me with that shy smile. As I begin to move, not of my will but with a pull much greater, she also moves, closer to me. A yellow glow radiates from her, flooding my whole being with warmth. Our bodies shed all garments, revealing our true forms. Embracing one another, finally, it all becomes clear. Yes. Cynthia. I know her.


1st Edition Warhammer Fantasy Role-Play/ The Ogre Player Character

Well, ladies and gentle germs, it is time I re-released something I wrote long ago. This is my second article ever written and accepted for publication. I enjoyed making this article as much as people did playing the actual race (species). Ogres are super fun in WFRP 1st edition with these additional rule sets.


I have my own world called Naalrinnon (New Gods of Mankind Table Top RPG.

I would be happy to make more content like this.

Send me an email to Bphophix@gmail.com

Here is the front cover for the article in the magazine.

Now onto the actual article:

The Ogre Player Character

(By Richard Leon)

A Stomach for a Fight

 In this article the Ogre species are created and used for role-playing purposes in the Warhammer World. Players can use the information provided to embellish on and make well thought out characters. Background information includes their Society, Origins and Lore, and their Homeland, the Jotunheimen Mountains, where the biggest population of Ogres exist. It includes many charts along with a Lexicon of their speech. Tips on how to advance and role-play an ogre are also included. Every adventuring group in the Warhammer World can benefit from having an Ogre. It just depends on how well the adventurers take care of them!


                Ogre society is built upon their basic needs to eat and fight. Nothing else matters to them. Everything from language to religion reflects this attitude. “The Great Maw” is an Ogre deity that imbibes their values fully. The hierarchy consists solely of fanatics who carry out this philosophy to extremes upon the populous i.e. eating their kin who don’t live up to Ogre standards! In the Jotunheimen Mountains, this concept takes precedence over all other actions. Sharing and other ideas are foreign to most Ogres except those who live outside a tribe in human society.

                Ogres speak common tongue and their own language Grumbarth. Very few words are spoken; none are written down. Expressions usually deal with eating; such was their passion for this activity. The low language development is due to the Ogre’s lack of mental skills. (No one has ever heard of an Ogre scholar!)

                The common tongue Ogres speak is a flavorful approach to Old Worlder with many foods representing nouns, adjectives, verbs and other parts of the language. Humans are called slims, Dwarfs, sour-bellies, and wood elves, sticks. Verbs consist of words such as dinner, to express a fight. Adjectives are incorporated into nouns except for a few such as iddy for small. Other races find their language/ accent confusing often to the point of frustration.

                Grumbarth is a language consisting of short syllables and sound with consonants only, no vowels. It is a low grumbling language that makes one think of grinding rocks in a hailstorm. Ogres speak this language around kin. Few outsiders understand or speak the language. Many words sound the same. Those who religiously dedicate their life to “The Great Maw” speak Grumbarth only.

                Religion in Ogre society is simple; when an Ogre devours a prey or commences battle he pleases “The Great Maw”. Many Ogres participate in eating contest all the time for various reasons in the name of their god. Ogres need no temple for worship. Those few who dedicate themselves fully are known as “The Maw’s Chosen”.  The only known festivals are held during a full chaos moon (Morrslieb) in which all matter of strange things are consumed. Many offerings are made to their god as sacrifice. Keeping the god happy is an easy task, but those who did not, are eaten in the name of “The Great Maw”.

                There is a small hierarchy of sorts in the various tribes that wander the land. Those blessed by “The Great Maw” are given leadership status, controlling a number of Ogres under him. Ogre tribes center on “The Maw’s Chosen” a single Ogre champion who leads the group. Most wandering tribes gather and break up with the rise and fall of “The Maw’s Chosen”.

                In Ogre society female Ogres play an important part. They are honored and feared among the males. Respect is given to the female when she has a family. She is usually a single mother taking care of the needs of the children. Her mate or mates are often out hunting in order to feed the ever-hungry brood. It is a major taboo for a male to tell a female anything. She has free reign to dispense justice to any disobedient mate, including eating them. Males do not retaliate for fear other members of the tribal clan making them an instant sacrifice to “The Great Maw”! Males fear their mate and often suffer abuses.

                Males leave their homes to venture forth into “The land of the iddy”. The only reason females also ventured out is because they are barren. Otherwise they stayed near home. They are always on the go constantly looking for something the kids to “BARSH or make breakfast”.

                Ogre life is simple and harsh. Their life expectance is very short due to their aggressive nature. One can always find an Ogre in munching down some food or exchanging blows. It is the way they live. Ogres that are too soft are sacrifice to “The Great Maw!”

Origins and Lore

                The Ogre’s racial origins and historical lore is an unsolved mystery. Many scholars debate the legends, few agree upon anything said. The mystery surrounds the Northern Chaos Waste and the Jotunheimen Mountain Range surrounding the wasteland. In this forlorn area lies the answer to many questions, but few are sane enough to venture there. Several theories circulate in the scholar community but without hard evidence, they are legends and hypothesis… nothing more.

                Elven and Brettonian historians believed Ogres were once a human race who served the Old Slann. According to legend the Old Slann built a control device for the northern warp gate. Humans were created as a slave race to run this machine for the Old Slann. Many were in this gigantic device when the warp-gates collapsed. The populous changed in the tide of chaos spewed from the warp gate, but the apparatus remained intact. Evidence of this is chronicled in the personal library of the Phoenix King but no one is allowed to look at them for fear the ancient parchments might disintegrate.

Another legend held by the Dwarven Loremasters and Imperial scholars is that a race of half-giants called the Morhod who inhabited a city called Thoom, located in the Jotunheimen Mountains. They worked with the Old Slann to control the warp gates. They were transformed after the first incursion of chaos in an accident involving warpstone and the main control tower. To back this claim is a grudge written against the Morhod in the Dwarven Book of Grudges. Supposedly this is the first grudge ever held by the entire race. The king of the Dwarven Empire allows no one, not even his court Loremaster, to read the book. So scholars retrieved the information second hand from books written on the Book of Grudges.

Other legends are attributed to “The Great Maw” the Ogre deity. This information came from other races that investigated this mysterious god. Different conclusions were made in each society. Some call “The Great Maw” a Chaos deity. Others viewed the god as a myth. Some believe the god represents the spirit of the Ogre race as a whole. The best information on the lore and legends of this deity came from the priesthood of Verena.

The priest of Verena, prominent in Ogre and other types of theology, established the Order of Godkind, a scholarly group based in Nuln. They study gods, demons, and astral creatures from different species. They hypothesize and test the views of many legends. Godkind scholars agree upon a particular view of “The Great Maw”

                Based on several, different, eyewitness accounts of those who wandered with the Ogre Tribes, “The Great Maw” was a gigantic tower hidden in the Jotunheimen Mountains, horribly transformed into the shape of a monstrous mouth with crooked fangs, large tongue and a terrible stench akin to rotten corpses. Occasionally an Ogre would walk up to the tower to placate the godand disappear. Some offered sacrifices to it watching “The Maw” engorged itself. The site of this horrific monster eating drove outsiders insane! Many learned men doubt the authenticity of the reported sights because most men who survive such an ordeal were insane.

                Many views and opinions exist about Ogre culture and legends. Tales of riches and strange machines circulate about in social circles. Some adventurous fortune hunters go as far as to enter the Jotunheimen Mountains. Few ever return. But if you ask an Ogre they don’t care for all this speculation. They are here and that’s all that matters to them. They would respond, “No iddy slim or sour belly can stop us or da Maw!”


                Ogres are a nomadic, tribal species that thrive in the harshest environments of the Warhammer World. The majority of Ogre Tribes wander thru the Jotunheimen Mountain Range that forms a semi-circle around the chaos waste. These sets of peaks are a chilling site to any beast or man since many chaotic creatures exist in these mountains. Few dare to wander in these mountains purposefully, except for the Ogre Tribesman. Some tribes also exist in the World Edge Mountains and the Grey Mountains. All of these tribes live near dangerous territory, for the simple reason of having access to more things to eat.

                The Jotunheimen Mountains are a frightening, strange, and beautiful place to behold. Many Norse clansmen avoid this place, telling strange tales of laughing mountains and valleys of waterfalls spewing forth colors so as to distort ones senses. Actual reports on this region are few, even the Tsar of Kislev know little of what lies inside this secret domain. Maps are scarce and few explorers are willing to go to such inhospitable terrain. The Mountains remain a great mystery to many learned men of the Warhammer World.

                Ogre Tribes living in the Jotunheimen Mountains are constantly on the move in search of things to fill their voracious appetites. Beast of Chaos wander thru these mountains such as Minoutaurs, Chimeras, Beastmen, Jabberwockies Wyverns and the occasional Dragon. Tribes will often group together to fight these beasts. When the battle is over the Tribes will often fight each other Champion to Champion to see who gets the lion’s share of the food. Sometimes these fights turn ugly, spawning feuds that last for several generations. When the prey is few or the War bands of Chaos are about, Ogre tribes will conduct raids on the villages nearby.

Many tribes conduct raids on Norse towns and cities bringing with them a lust for battle and an empty belly. Spring and summer is spent raiding and plundering the nearby villages when food is scarce. The Norse welcomes this chance to practice their blades on a real foe, and if the battle gets tough, then a peace settlement is reached in a simple form of letting one of their best herds go. This tactic usually works until next spring.

 Ogre Tribes living in other areas usually involve themselves in the local disputes of the region, giving aid to the side that can feed them the best and offer the most battle. In the World Edge Mountains Ogre Tribes offer their services to Goblin and Dwarf alike. Loyalty belongs only to their tribe and their stomachs. This peculiar psychology sometimes turns the tide of battle or war. When humans are involved, they usually offer the best reward and know how to placate these stubborn beasts. (Dwarfs have too much pride to placate a bunch of smelly Ogres!)

In the Warhammer World Ogres are constantly in search of food and will do anything to gain that end. They are not picky about what they eat but how much they eat! Champions of the Great Maw often live or die by how much they provide their tribe with food. A tribe starving will often resort to cannibalism, with their champion being the first course! Always on the move, The Ogre tribe is ever in search of conflict to fill the void of their bottomless pits.

Special Rules for Ogres

                Special rules exist in this section covering advancement, combat and role-play that should be noted. Large variances differentiate the Ogre from the other races. After the player has rolled up the stats, they give the Ogre skills and a career from the charts. Then the player must know the special rules of advancement, combat, and role-play. Players need to read about their homeland and society in order to grasp the attitudes and beliefs. Role-playing the Ogre is no small feat but it can be done with enthusiasm. Consider it like operating a huge walking tank that could stop an army in its tracks!

                When advancing an Ogre there are a few rules created in order to provide fairness in the game.

  • Ogre character stat raises cost twice as much than the other races. Intelligence and Fellowship stats can only be raised by 10 points only. This reflects the races slow wits and brute attitude.
  • Skill cost twice as much and only those skills listed can be chosen, even if another skill is in their advancement scheme. Only four Specialist Weapon skills can be learned, Ogre two-handed, pole-arms, net, flail and fist weapons. Special rules for combat are covered later in this section.
  • The Subject to Stupidity rule covered in the Warhammer Fantasy Role-play Book applies to Ogres with intelligence 12 and under. G.M.s should feel free to use this rule in any circumstance.

Combat for Ogres is different, because of their disposition and enormous size. The players should use this set of rules for Ogres to reflect the specie’s advantages.

  • Opponents in combat with an Ogre have a –10 to dodge a charging Ogre. The opponent also gets a +10 to WS or BS to hit the Ogre in combat due to their huge size (opponents over 10 ft tall ignore this rule).
  • Ogres use combat skills differently from ordinary people. Wrestling and Street Fighting confer an additional hit bonus of +1. Ogres without the skill have the normal –20 to WS but use a D6 instead of D6-2 to hit.
  • They can use normal Two-Handed weapons like a human uses an ordinary sword. Stats for these two-handed weapons (including flails) have a +10 to I when wielded by an Ogre. They cannot use knives or similar weapons.
  • Ogres have their own two-handed weapons, which have stats available to them. An Ogre with strength 6 or greater can use these weapons. These great weapons take away one attack from the Ogre when in use, but cannot be parried by anything under ten feet tall.

Some special rules apply just to role-playing and do not involve mechanics or dice rolls. These rules are just bits of common sense that should be used by players and GMs alike.

  • Ogre Players should not be expected to come up with any ideas for the group! Ogre players who like to comment on a harrowing escapade should only say “Me need lunch slim!” or other Ogre phrases found in the lexicon.
  • Ogres are limited to where they can go! When traveling Ogres always go on foot, no wagons. Staying at inns poses a problem since they usually are not welcomed or only fit into the stables (yum!). Dwarf tunnels are out of the question!
  • Feeding an Ogre can be quite troublesome! On an adventure Ogres are worse than halflings due to their bottomless pits called stomachs. A good side adventure can include the hunt for some type of food (Fire-Bellies maybe?).

Using an Ogre with these special rules enhance the play of a game session. Many types of scenarios can be used for them to augment a traveling party (4 halflings and an Ogre?). Role-playing the Ogre should be a joy to anyone who loves to be a pain and smash objects at the same time.


Creating and Role-playing an Ogre Player-Character is fun, exciting and very challenging. Many things go into the creation of a Warhammer Player-Character and the Ogre is no exception! Details on the Characters background, look and personality are an integral part of any good character. Rolling for the stats of any character is a fun process. The player feels as if he or she is witnessing the birth of a favorite son/daughter. Role-playing this brute species establishes a challenging part simply because of their low intelligence and voracious appetite! This process along with a good attitude can lead to hours of great role-play!

Ogre Character Profile


Weapon Skill2D10+20
Ballistic Skill2D10+10


SpeakOld Worlder/ Grumbarth
AlignmentNeutral/ Evil/ Chaotic
PsychologyCause Fear in all living creatures under 10’ tall
HeightMale/Female 10’9”+ 2D12
Width8’9” + D12”
Age14 – 55/6D6
Fate PointsD2

Character Build

Roll D10Results
Light Ogresroll 7D20 + 800 lbs.
Average Ogresroll 10D20 + 900 lbs.
Heavy Ogresroll 13D20 + 1000 lbs.
Massive Ogresroll 16D20 + 1200 lbs.
Gigantic Ogresroll 19D20 + 1400 lbs.

Ogres under 11’3” subtract 3D20/ Ogres over 12’6” add 3D20

Characteristic Modifiers

850-1000 lbsT–1 (50% I +10/M+1)
1001 – 1200 lbs.No Modifier
1201 – 1400 lbs.T+1 (50%I-10/M-10)
1401 lbs. UpT+1/W+D8/I-10/M-1/Ld+10/Int-10

Place of Birth

Roll D6Result
4Wandering Tribe
5Wandering Tribe
6Human Realm (Roll on human birthplace chart)

Hair Color

Roll D10Result
3Dark Brown
4Medium Brown
5Light Brown
6Corn Yellow

Eye Color

Roll D10Result
2Dark Brown
3Medium Brown
4Light Brown
5Amber Red
6Cobalt Blue
7Dark Green
8Grey Hazel
9Gold Yellow

Ogre Skills

Mandatory Skills: Consume Alcohol or Immunity to Poison

Roll D3 for How many initial skills the character has. Then roll a D100 on the skill chart.

Roll D100Results
01-05Acute Hearing
16-20Dodge Blow
21-25Excellent Vision
26-30Fleet Footed
31-35Immunity to Disease
36-40Immunity to Poison
41-45Lightning Reflexes
51-55Night Vision
66-70Scale Sheer Surface
71-75Sixth Sense
76-80Speak Additional Language
86-90Very Resilient
91-95Very Strong

List of Ogre Skills

Acute hearing
Consume Alcohol
Dodge Blow
Excellent Vision
Fire Eating
Fleet Footed
Follow Trail
Frenzied Attack
Immunity to Disease
Immunity to Poison
Lightning Reflexes
Night Vision
Scale Sheer Surface
Sixth Sense
Speak Additional Language
Specialist Weapon
Spot Trap
Street Fighter
Strike Mighty Blow
Strike to Injure
Strike to Stun
Very Resilient
Very Strong

Ogre Careers and Advancement

Roll D100 on the career chart for a starting career. Any other basic career change cost 200 exp. Advance careers cost 400 exp. Each stat advancement cost 200 epx, reflecting their slow wits. Each skill gained cost 200 exp.

Basic Careers

Roll D100Result
51-60Pit Fighter

Advanced Careers

Judicial Champion
Mercenary Sgt./Capt.
Outlaw Chief

*Ogres may only take a few career choices in the Entertainer career.

These are:
Fire Eater
They cannot get the strongman skill
(Who could keep an Ogre on a strict diet anyway!)

Note: Ogres cannot learn any skill not indicated on the Ogre skill list. Therefore there is no such thing as an Ogre who has Concealment Rural.

“The Great Maw” (Diety) God of the Ogres

Description: “ The Great Maw” the primary deity of the Ogres, is the god of devouring, and conflict. Almost all Ogres worship it except for the few outcasts who are shunned by Ogre society. It stands for all acts of consumption and conquering. Followers devour those who oppose this deity. It has no form in the minds of the Ogres, but others portray it as a gaping mouth with a thick tongue and crooked curved fangs.

Alignment: Neutral

Symbol: “The Great Maw’s” symbol is a simple “O” shaped in any fashion the wearer chooses. Devout followers of the deity, called “ The Maw’s Chosen” wear an ornate tattoo of this symbol. The deity gives this symbol to the faithful as a sign of his favor. This tattoo comes in many patterns, forms and colors. Other Ogres who worship it carry a simple “O” shaped piece on their person, which varies from Ogre to Ogre.

Area of Worship: This deity is worshipped wherever an Ogre travels. Many tribes and those who live among humans worship it in acts of eating or fighting. No small shrine or temple exists to it except for the one in the city of Thoom.

Friends and Enemies: “The Great Maw” has no friends or enemies to speak of. It represents the Ogres values of fighting and eating. Those who stand in the way of a hungry Ogre or a battle become the enemy. Any who help an Ogre eat or fight is deity’s friend.

Holy Days: Any night when Morrslieb is full is a time of celebration for the Ogre. Festivals of horrific proportion are held at night where many strange things are devoured in honor of their deity. No one knows the reason but some speculate it is an ancient custom that predates humankind.

Cult Requirements: Only Ogres worship it. “The Maw’s Chosen” are special Ogres who follow a Templar career, leading Ogres beneath him/her in tribes or packs. Lunatic warriors follow it and go to the main temple in Thoom.

Strictures: “The Maws Chosen” are subjugated to intense scrutiny from their peers and their god. “Chosen” Ogre who doesn’t live up to “The Great Maw’s” code is devoured instantly.

Skills: Ogres “Chosen” by “The Great Maw” receive skills normally not available to other Ogres. They learn them from other “Chosen” or gain them as a blessing. These skills are Fire Eating, Frenzied Attack, Luck, Night Vision, Sixth Sense and Specialist Weapon: Ogre Two Handed Weapon.

Trials: Trials set by “The Great Maw” include acts of gorging and killing large and unusual things and objects. Ogres who wish to become one of the “Maw’s Chosen” must survive a trip into the temple in Thoom. Roll on the Cleric Chart in WFRP with a –25% to reflect the harshness of this deity. “The Great Maw” instantly consumes those who suffer the Wrath of the Gods roll on the Cleric Chart. “Maw’s Chosen” may roll again on this chart for each sacrifice presented to the god at his temple in Thoom.

Blessings: Blessings given by this god are few and far between. Blessings come in the form of a skill, increase in attributes or increase in size. Favored test are ones that involve acts of great devouring or massive battle. Other blessings might include a never ending appetite or the ability to unhinge the jaw like a snake to consume more food.


You’re a Time Traveller (And it’s killing you)

This is my grand crazy theory for us humans. Humanity travels through time with our thoughts. Not our bodies mind you. We are complex beasts, able to think in abstract ways and we build upon these abstractions. Our minds hold vast worlds set up how we want. We are the gods of our own existence. And we can travel backwards and forwards in our thoughts. We re-live the past all the time. We make plans for the future, because we already visited the future in our thoughts.

A typical cliche stated by our elders is “remember the good old days?” or “life was so much simpler back then.” Maybe it was. More than likely it has its own complications. Our technology supposedly makes life for us easier now. So why is this statement such a HUGE contradiction? Is our past easier? Or the future?

Neither really. Gramps broke out the rose-tinted glasses borrowed from grandma. Grandpa travelled back to his own time in his head. He spun up his memories and visited the past. Emotionally it was the best of times for him.

Grandpa has a magical time travelling accordion.

Grandpa also predicted your marriage would not last. Heck, he even knew you would move back in. He also knows that job you really want will come through. But not in the time you think.

Grandpa used his life experiences and grabbed what he knew about you. He hopped into his mental time machine and flew a few years into your future. There he used his life experiences to figure out one of many futures you might experience.

Grandpa is not always right you know. But he comes through many times in his predictions.

Not all of us want to be time travellers. In fact, it is a horrifying experience going to our past. Because it’s filled with abuse, horrors and details we do not want to relive. Going back to the past brings on depression. When we look into the future all we see are patterns from the past rising. Our future gives us anxiety. Time travelling for some is killing us faster than the rest of the population.

The Anxiety and Depression Association of America has some interesting statistics on Anxiety.

  • Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting 40 million adults in the United States age 18 and older, or 18.1% of the population every year.
  • Anxiety disorders are highly treatable, yet only 36.9% of those suffering receive treatment.
  • People with an anxiety disorder are three to five times more likely to go to the doctor and six times more likely hospitalized for psychiatric disorders than those who do not suffer from anxiety disorders.
  • Anxiety disorders develop from a complex set of risk factors, including genetics, brain chemistry, personality, and life events.

Over 1/2 of those diagnosed with anxiety suffer depression.

More facts here.

Anxiety is the most common mental health disorder in the U.S., affecting close to 40 million adults, according to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH)1That’s about 18% of the population! However, only about one-third of those who struggle with anxiety receive treatment.


Depression is the leading cause of disability worldwide. Almost 75% of people with mental disorders remain untreated in developing countries with almost 1 million people taking their lives each year. In addition, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), 1 in 13 globally suffers from anxiety. The WHO reports that anxiety disorders are the most common mental disorders worldwide with a specific phobia, major depressive disorder and social phobia being the most common anxiety disorders.

The Neurocore website has more information regarding Anxiety here.

Craziest fact is that anxiety can make everything stink. I wonder if highly anxious people have a problem tasting food or experiencing different flavors?

The point I want to make is we all travel to the past and the future. Also, if you do not want to call it time travelling to the past, you can use the phrase nostalgic thoughts. And how we view those thoughts determines how it will affect us.

Nostalgia is an emotional state of mind. It’s almost like we are travelling back to experience those emotions again. Those depressing moments. The future is horrible if you have a bad past. In fact, thinking about the future will give you anxiety.

This leads me to my point.


Dr. Who Tardis on the beach
Maybe the good doctor finally took a break from all that wibbly womby time travelly stuff

You abuse this amazing ability of our mind and it will get the best of you. Do not live so much in the past. Stop thinking so much about the future. Especially if you have lots of anxiety or depression.

Live in the here and now. (This advice goes for the author.)

If you want a good New Year’s resolution you can stick with, try “being more in the present.” It’s free and does not cost a gym membership. It won’t make you feel guilty if you break this. It’s not even precise. If you feel the past or future weighing too much on your mind, try being here right now.

How to be in the present is another article. For now, I personally will meditate thinking about what I need to do tonight and finish my laundry.

Motivated by Regret

A life worth living?

Imagine if you will, making a choice in life you regret. Not hard is it? We do it all the time. Hindsight is 20/20. We clearly see our past and the mistakes are big red flags sticking out.

What should we do with this feeling of regret?

I have a regret I normally do not talk about.

It’s personal and it’s hard for me to share.

I regret not deploying to Somalia in 1993.

Remember during the Clinton years about our intervention in Somalia?

For a refresher, go here https://www.britannica.com/event/Somalia-intervention

To sum it up:

Somali dictator Mohamed Siad Barre was overthrown in a military coup staged by a coalition of opposition warlords. The two most powerful warlords—Cali Mahdi Maxamed (Ali Mahdi Muhammad) and Muhammed Farah Aydid—soon began fighting among themselves.

We stepped in to keep the peace. The United States Marines did. It was a humanitarian crisis and a military action. Black Hawk Down the movie was set there (but not entirely accurate).

I was asked to volunteer. And I did not.

I told my Gunnery Sgt. “Take PFC Smith over there.” I was a Lance Corporal at the time and due for promotion.

I was told early on not to volunteer for anything.

But after understanding what a lot of Marines went through in that “intervention”, I found myself regretting my action.

I should have volunteered.

This regret haunted me for years after. All the way up until I was 32.

My biological father offered me a chance to serve even though I was older. As a DoD contractor.

So, I worked for the Department of Defense as an Electronic Technician/ Electronic Warfare on some big govt. projects for several large contracting agencies.

For 9 years.

I killed 9 years of my life working overseas. I volunteered time and time again. I kept going. Even when I should not have.

I flew on over 700 aircraft and helicopter missions. Over 50 ground missions through enemy territory. I slept in cots and sleeping bags most of the time.

My work saved lives. I am proud of what I did.

Regret motivated me to use my skills in a way I did not think possible.

I saw the PFC I sent to Somalia too. In 2006 on a Marine base in Iraq.

He was a Gunnery Sgt will a chest filled with decorations.

We did not shake hands. Just nodded at each other.

Fate has a way of sending opportunities to us even when we make bad choice.

You can either dwell on the regret, or use it to fuel better actions.

Questions from a Fan about the rules

New Gods of Mankind

Hey everyone,

I want to share briefly some questions I answered for a fan about the game. If you have some questions feel free to comment and I will do my best to answer them.

Questions and Replies

1)On page 40 in the New Gods Handbook you mentioned that the pc’s can only come to the Known World as mortals, but on page 117, in the sample adventure you added they can come in spirit form. However, you didn’t advise of the mechanic in doing so? Such as the cost and whether or not a spirit can be harmed in the Known World.

The Player Characters can come to the world in spirit form. As a god you can manifest in spirit in your territory for free. It has to be within your territory preferably in your temple.

The page 40 rule needs to be re-adjusted and allow for…

View original post 603 more words

Question: What did you get out of New Gods of Mankind?

So I need some feedback. I am currently working on rebranding and rewriting the novels and game world. I want to ask you dear reader for your feedback.

What did you get out of my games or novels?

What element stuck out in your head from everything else?

I ask this as I move forward willing to create something better than before.

Email me bphophix@gmail.com

If you have not read anything from me, I will gladly send you some samples for some feedback.

Let us have a conversation.

FREE PDF 1st Edition Basic Rules

Get a taste of our ruleset for FREE

New Gods of Mankind

Ladies and Gentle Germs,

For your understanding and viewing pleasure the following link goes directly to my FREE PDF containing the basic rules (protected and trademarked) for you to use in your next game. I am currently working on the 2nd edition rules and I will be looking for test players at the end of the year.

Get the PDF here.

Get the EPUB here.

I will be re-writing Dragon Gods Rising and writing the novel Whispers of the Leviathans this summer. There will be an amazing trilogy of books ready for the market by next year and playtesting of the 2nd edition rules as well.

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View original post

Time for a Change

Hey everyone,

I am working through a rebranding of New Gods of Mankind. I have removed all of my books from publishing. If you see anything published on pirated sites or by anyone else, its not me.

A second edition of New Gods of Mankind will be coming soon. I will be reworking the rules and playtesting the game at local Texas conventions (and possibly a few out of state).

I am working on the second novel Whispers of the Leviathans for production this year as well.

This website will be coming down May 4th. If you wish to contact me please do so.

The second edition will be a much stronger ruleset than the first edition and the world will be expanded upon. There will be a campaign written called the Final Leviathan War.

My apologies for not corresponding as life usually gets in the way.

Stay safe and healthy all of you.


Richard Leon

Speak to your Market

Hey Folks,

Today I spent part of my time re-working a business proposal for an associate concerning a new venture I am undertaking. It’s a great idea and many people have signed on board. But one investor looked at it and did not have time to read what I had presented. I used an “award-winning” format chosen for me by a business partner. This format has already won millions of dollars.

But this new investor does not understand the market I am working in. In fact, he asked if we had any experience in what we are doing. Heck, we have 6 plus companies that has tons of professional experience in this area. (Insert red flag here) The investor did not take the time to read any of it. He asked for a quick one page written summary. I would dare say this investor has 0 idea of what this market is about. It is probably outside his circle of competence. “But he knows money.” is probably the answer I am expecting.

I formatted the 1 pager as requested.  It’s more practice and helps to refine my message further. I am always revising and figuring out how to reach my message to who I need to speak to.

More than likely we won’t take his money as it probably is “dumb” money. We want “smart investors” or for a better term, we want someone who understands the industry and the market.

Now I have created great presentations using Guy Kawasaki’s 10 Slide rule. But this does not fit all markets. It’s just a starting point. It is something you can work with to get your message out. Honestly, I don’t think you can pigeonhole everything into this format for every market.

The biggest problem I see from a presenter’s standpoint is knowing your audience and what language they are speaking.

Not English, mind you. But how they are using English.

If I brought a university professor and a transmission mechanic into the same room to discuss coffee, they might or might not have a decent conversation. But lets say the university professor has a degree in quantum mechanics and she starts the conversation discussing quantum entanglement. Do you think the mechanic will have any clue to what she is talking about?

Probably not.

Suppose the transmission mechanic starts a conversation about warranties and how Chrysler made vehicles which failed after the warranty expired due to failure in the planetary gears. Do you think the professor would have a clue?

Again English, and I imagine other languages- have more complex subsets of their language dealing with these specializations of knowledge.


What I am asking you dear reader is to step outside of your box. Think like your audience. If you don’t know the audience, you probably should learn it well before you even think about pitching a business plan. Because that is a HUGE clue you do not know your market.

Every business market has their own language. Learn it and the mindset behind it BEFORE YOU MAKE A BUSINESS PLAN!

And, if the person you are speaking to does not have a clue of the market and wants to give you money, BEWARE! (Big red flag for you right there). You can figure this out when to speak to them, using your own terminology you learned in this marketplace.


Opinions and Consequences

Funny thing happened today on Facebook. I got into a stupid Facebook argument. Over an article I posted, which could or could not be true.

I am one of those guys with 5k followers and I manage them. Often.

Because not everybody believes in the same freedom of speech. Or decency.

So back to the article. It was questionable if the person making the statements were true. But the article was about someone making a statement. Expressing his opinion. Which could or could not be true. We are ALL allowed to have an opinion. And I shared it. I never stated I believe what this person said. But it was an interesting comment. And it’s an opinion from an influential person.

For some reason, this article, and the opinion of said person did not sit well with one person. And they became irate and made comments. On my Facebook page.

That is like someone coming to your house and telling you what to eat for breakfast. Or what you should watch on TV.

Who does that? Even in a communist country?

So I had to break out the block feature and block said person for not acting right. He is free to his opinion. But no one is free to force their opinion on others.


This is a big problem in the US and it’s bothering me. Because I love all of my Democrat and Republican friends. I love my Muslim and Christian Friends. I love every race, and I want people to be who they are. But I also don’t want people telling others what to do, who to be and force their opinions on others.

Here is the rub. Everyone can agree we all deserve a certain amount of respect as a human being. But we are also not free from the consequences of our actions. If you do something messed up, you will pay for it. Period.

So here is a definition of what just occurred. My former FB friend attempted to obtrude their viewpoint upon me.

transitive verb

-·trud′ed, -·trud′ing
to thrust forward; push out; eject
to offer or force (oneself, one’s opinions, etc.) upon others unasked or unwanted
Origin of obtrude

Classical Latin obtrudere from ob- (see ob-) + trudere, to thrust: see threat
to obtrude oneself (on or upon)

No, my friend, you do not get to do that. Everyone must make up their own mind on the information provided.

For the record, the article posted a comment George Soros made. I do not take anyone’s opinions on what is going on as gospel. But there could be some truth to it. I don’t know, but it would not surprise me to see facts supporting this informed opinion. If so, it means influence on our democracy is being bought and sold as a commodity. We should be very careful who we believe on either side. Last time I checked ALL Politicians are answerable to the people. No one is above scrutiny or fact checking.

One final word. Political Parties are NOT FOOTBALL TEAMS. Or any sports team. They are lawyers and businessmen who need to take care of us in making the laws of this land, executing said laws and interpreting them. Just remember that.




Shout out to the beautiful woman who inspired me to write today. Thank you!