The Wonders of Manhattan

The more I see of these Mortals, the more it makes me wonder how I have managed to survive over 4800 years without having to deal with silly people. Also, there's this little thing about typographic errors where I don't do too well in terms of spelling (luckily, the goodlies here at Blogger.com have this jolly little spell check mechanism that will give me the prowess of taking this silly nonsense on.

Anywho, I am now enjoying a wondrous life here in ye Byg Appyl. Like my Mortal-born alter ego, Master Richard, I have had all sorts of spectacular things happen to me. When I'm not tagging along with Thor the Barbarian (http://www.thorthebarbarian.com), I'm usually scribbling my Site of the Issue column for the Ink Blot Newsletter, published by the Fellowship of the Black Spot of West Allis, Wisconsin (http://www.fbshq.org), which has just recently gone digital; or simply popping up in New York's various parks, where I like to indulge in peoplewatching; or else, as is my present case, I'm waiting to answer the siren call of the Scottish Highlands, as I do each 4th Saturday in August.

Clan MacDuff, as they call themselves, is an amalgamation of 15 former Scottish Clans from across the Greater New York/New Jersey Region. Today, it is the only surviving Scottish Clan in the New York area. Through its century and several score-year existence, it has been home to many a would-be Highlander. I am happy to number it amongst the few places worthy of mention in this Diary of Magecraft.

Old Westbury Gardens, the site of the former Phipps family residence, has hosted these Scottish Games since 1970. It ranks as one of the Eastern Region's largest single-day Scottish Games events, attracting between 5000 and 6000 visitors per year. Their home page, http://www.liscots.org, would tell you more of the Clan's saga than I could; then again, as always, I am but a mere Mage!

But often times, I like to journey to Times Square --- The Crossroads of the World --- where, strumming on his trusty guitar and crooning his theme song to the delight (or disgust, if one truly feels that way) of many, one can find the Naked Cowboy ["comin' to a town near you"]. I have already had a proper look at http://www.nakedcowboy.com and have found there a very intriguing and personal story; though one would say that the said story is not as simple as mine own, I would suspect that it is a tale nonetheless filled with equal surfeits of triumph, tragedy and personal epiphany.

Oh boy! Working on your first two pages of blog is one thing; doing your darndest to have them make proper sense --- that's something else. So at this point, methinks I shall stop before I even attempt to bore my readers to death! My word, I never thought I'd get this far!

Until next time,

Master Blackwolf

An Introduction

Greetings!

Within the pages of this, my Diary of Magecraft, I, Padraig of Abbeyleix, son of Saemus the Strong --- and best known to each and all as Blackwolf the Dragonmaster, Duke of Talisker ---- Philosopher of the Internet, Defender of Imagination, Lord High Wizard of the Hard Drive, Conqueror of Thaumaturgic Technology --- and, of course, Master Mage and Sorcerer-in-Residence unto the Mortalfolk of the City, County and State of New York ---- shall chronicle the worlds that take me within and beyond the wonders of my Dark Chambers website, at http://www.geocities.com/blackbeardian/Magecraft/bwolfmain2.html.

There are many tales of my wonderful adventures and wishes to be shared hither, not the least of which is that which concerns my origins and purpose --- what the Mortals would otherwise call a "backstory." And boy, do I have one doozy of a backstory --- and eventually, I shall go into the immediate details of same when time allows me to do so. Know, then, that in the time of ancient Ireland, I was once a failed would-be Knight who, having been press-ganged into the service of the High King of Ireland --- the Ard Rhi --- and was an inch or two away from retiring as his longest-serving caretaker, was about to devote what little remained of my adult years to living out my days as a simple hermit.

But, through the machinations of an evil Bishop, who cursed me to walk in human form by day, and then in wolven form by night; and through the Forces of Good Magic, in the person of the covne of Mages known as the Grand High Istari, I was to become the force for goodness unexpected and yet somehow misunderstood by the Mortals of Manhattan. Only a chosen few --- notably, Thor the Barbarian; Muninn, his Queen; and my Brother Mages, Merdwin of the Shire of Schenectady; and Nollaig of Queens --- know the balance of my history. Now, for the ages yet untold, the pages of this Diary of Magecraft shall reintroduce others to that history.

And my Mistress, Her Majesty, Margaret, Queen of Scotland and the Isles, she who granted me the Dukedom of all Talisker: How can I inscribe hither without forgetting her? She knows more of my saga than even I. And I barely know where to begin.

Still, these tales and others shall be revealed eventually. Did not Bruce, Lord of the Geller'd Keep, once say of old: "In time is the key to any television situation. Nobody makes money right away."

The journey is only beginning, my friends. Where it leads me, I shall share with ye yet anon!

Until then, I humbly remain,

Fearlessly yours,


Master Blackwolf