Wednesday, September 17, 2014


It's Wednesday. I'm angry at the stupidity of the world. How can people be so ready to blame engineering for setting requirements and complaining about recurring inspections without saying what is acceptable. We asked three weeks ago for them to figure it out. I'm done justifying the answer. Let them rot. 

I just want to follow the rules. Why am I pushed against my lots when no one else is?  We struggle to remove every inch of conservatism and ignore history and say we'll do better but fall flat on your face. 

Everyone makes rules but only tell certain people yet expect us all to follow them. Guess I should fire both barrels and put this crap out for everyone to see in my STRL assessment. Let's see how they answer this. 

Time to start getting shit moving. Hope we can merge our paths and not cause a rift in the delicate workspace I'm currently in. 

Friday, May 2, 2014

We're all human, even when we're not.

Murdox was standing on the hill overlooking the enemy camp.  He hefted his war hammer and grinned at the sleeping sentries.  The fools had dared to enter his territory.  With the fall of technology, the only way to keep anything was to win.

This band of marauders thought themselves' special for they still carried watches and cell phones like at any minute this nightmare would end.  It has been seven hundred ninety three days since magic returned.  The first sweeping gesture to gain control was to kill all technology.  The feat was amazing since it somehow disabled firearms and combustion engines from working.

The world's population has dwindled from the lack of food production and distribution.  People fought to go to the wilderness and it seemed like nature's food reserves in the wild animals would go extinct, but they are now higher on the food chain.  Without guns, most people can't kill their food to eat.  They had grown soft over the generations.
Murdox was not like most people.  He fought his way north into the wilderness of northern NY.  With his strength, he stole and fought his way to the land of harsh winters and few people.  Along the way, he fashioned himself a weapon of immense strength, his war hammer.  It was eight steel plates jammed onto the head of a baseball bat filled with concrete.  Using welding adhesives and some large bolts it had held together.

Once he found an abandoned farm house on a hill within walking distance of a water source, he began to fortify it.  With a basic knowledge of defense and his muscular frame, he tore down the barn and stripped the fences of their barbed wires.  From there, he defenses grew.  

Two weeks from the initial blackout, the world knew what he had already figured out.  Technology is dead and only the strong will survive.  At this point, he had bottled enough water from the river to last him a year and had begun stockpiling food he could find on night raids on surrounding houses and stores.  These were not without the occasional killing.  His number one concern was to prepare for the worse which is yet to come.
Weeks later was the first test of his defenses.  Local thugs, who had crying girls ganged and bound in tow.  He cursed his luck for he knew if he won there was no way to save the girls for they would run out of food long before the appointed time.  

As the gang tried to overcome his stout defense, one of the girls tried to run away.  The leader caught her and took her to the barbed wire where he proceeded to threaten Murdox to surrender or watch all the girls be tossed into the matt of barbed coils.  Biting his lip, he waited behind a stone wall he has erected.  True to his word the girls were hauled to the front and tossed like dead wood onto a bonfire.  The screams would keep him awake for the rest of his life.

His soul was ripping as he sat and heard the deaths of innocents on his garden of razors.  What was it to survive if he lost his grip on humanity?  Shouldn't he have tried to reason with them or just give up to save the girls who were currently screaming as flesh was being torn from their skin?  He shook his head, his death would just mean they would have raped and killed the girls as they pleased.  It would not save them.

Gripping his hammer tight, he waited out the screams until there was silence.  As the wind rustled the leaves in the yard, he heard the laughing of the members of the gang.  It started as a chuckle then grew them rolling on the ground wiping tears from their eyes.  The leader gasped and mimicked the girls' final gasps on the barbed patch.  Murdox stood, but his eyes were glowing with a dark red light.

With three steps he reached the body strewn barbed patch.  Deftly, he jumped from body to body and met the gang who were recovering from their mirth.  A guttural roar left his snarled lips as he brought the hammer down on the head of the leader.  The steel plates impacted with enough force causing the head to explode.  Sliding his feet in the dirt, he turned and swung the hammer into the chest of the second guy.  The rotation and swing combined and drove the victim into a third and they both fell being pierced by the mini-windmill tower artwork left by the previous owners.

One member remained and he pulled out a pocket knife and swung it in front of him.  Murdox grinned and stalked down the fourth member who had laughed the hardest.  The man lunged and with a decisive blow with the hammer, Murdox had shattered the wrist which sent the knife flying harmlessly away into the night.  Moving blindingly fast in the dark of night, Murdox smashed every major joint and then dragged the semiconscious man to the road where he picked him up and slammed him down on the post long since disregarded.  The pole pierce the jeans in the crotch and the body slid down it like a puppeteer's hand into their sock puppet.

Murdox walked back and blinked a few times as he stood over the gang's hoard of food and weapons.  Looking around he saw blood and death glistening in the moonlight.  At his feet was a word, "Zerk" written in the same blood which covered his hands.  His eyes teared up, and he grinning into the night sky while saying thanks.  

Over the years, he and Zerk had talked.  Zerk was his monstrous rage which slept in his soul.  The release of the ancient ways, his soul has released the bonds of humanity and allows him to go berserk, which saves Murdox his humanity.

Standing on the hill, he grins, "Time to play Zerk."

Saturday, June 23, 2012


How much background do you need to write a book. I keep wanting to write but am trying keep the details straight and how much info to add without doing data dumps. No one wants to read pages of training or why the villages hate each other. Does anyone alive even know why the fight began?

Saturday, March 10, 2012


Life is unusually painful this year.  I have been trying to update my first work to get it to read proportionally, but it is lackluster event.  As I try to forge new paths while extracting previously written words, I have realized that it is difficult to mix the two.  My style has evolved since this first work.  I find my outlook on the rich details of each match has become oblique.  Once I put every twist and turn of the fighter into the book, now after the revelation that it hinders the readers imagination, I am withdrawing to a global perspective.  It is hard not to dive in and provide intensive details, but I am learning.

On top of having a hard time rewriting two thirds of the book, I am constantly mentally assaulted by ideas for other books.  It isn't as if I am thinking about new ideas.  One instance was driving to my day job (Aerospace Engineer), I saw the reflection in a puddle of the trees on the other side.  My mind warped crystal clear image with the thoughts of parallel universes and magical beings, or dangerous creatures. 

There are a couple of songs I have heard in the past couple of months that have triggered a landslide of story ideas.  I will keep the songs to myself currently, but both stories have to do with superpowers and how the world turns on those who are there to save it.  Spidey complex.

Well, I am off to look into the semifinals of the book and see if I can bring the reader to the arena for the outcome.  Can a guy who seems too perfect pull at people's heartstrings?

Saturday, February 26, 2011


Once again the job sends us forth to deliver news.  Decisions will be made, people will rise up to the challenge and I will be there to watch as our work goes punished.  They say no good deed goes unpunished, but our news is the result of deeds to ensure safety, but who wants to be safe when it comes with a price.

To all of those that must remind the world that their choices have consequences and to do what is needed is never free.  Money is not evil, but why spend money to be safe when you can spend it to have new toys.  The world is messed up now we must forge the river to do what is right.

Keep the faith and all will be right in the end.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Bowing In

Welcome to the Dojo of Darkwindninja or Torstein Magnus.  I am an engineer that loves books, video games, and writing.  I tend to dabble in many things, but most of all I am into enjoying my life.

You are welcome to comment and talk to me about my projects.  I have written 2 books and working on a new series that is looking like about 11 books in length.