This is a rather long article, but is also a extremely good one looking at the origins of the supposed "War on Christmas" and the origins of the holiday season as we now know it. It is especially timely, given the fact that this issue seems to be flaring up in several places all at once here lately. The author is an atheist, and while I myself am a pagan I think he has the most rational and best thought out response to all of this I've read yet. He says, in part:

"The only people I know who are ever offended at Christmas time are Christians who get angry whenever they hear or see the words “happy holidays” or “season’s greetings.”  The angriest people I know at Christmas time are not people who are being prohibited from celebrating the holiday as they choose — they are people who are trying to prohibit others from celebrating the holidays in ways they claim to find offensive.  If you are one of those people, I have a question.  Is your religious faith so weak that you need everyone around you to keep it alive with words of agreement?  If so, the problem lies not with others but with you.  And if you’re so angered by the simple, pleasant greeting of “happy holidays,” I have another question.  It’s a question I ask with no ill intent.  I don’t mean to offend or insult, I simply want to understand.  The question is this:

What is wrong with you?"

An Open Letter To Christians: Merry Christmas From An Atheist

http://atheistoasis.wordpress.com/2010/12/13/an-open-letter-to-christians-merry-christmas-from-an-atheist/

Current Mood: thoughtful

(( Author's Note: The following is the second part of Catclysm related character stories for my Refugees, and thus they follow the events of Meadhbh's story "Up in Flames." Many changes have already happened for those that have called the Refuge home, and many more are yet to come.  ))

Wyat sat alone in the study of the flat he had purchased in Dalaran, the curtains drawn, all the magical lanterns shuttered, the only light coming from the flickering flame of the grand fireplace. He had lost track of how long he had been there. Hours? A day? More than that? Time has lost all meaning since he’d received the news of the fire. The same thoughts played again and again in his mind.

Arthas is dead. The Scourge pushed back. This was supposed to be a happy time. A chance to do something right that didn’t involve wars or fighting.

Through it all his eyes remained fixed upon the objects in his hands. In one a well loved stuffed zhevra, his gift to Ceara the first time Meadhbh had introduced them. In the other a small box and several sheets of parchment with the seal of Silvermoon City at the top.

If his relationship with Meadhbh; a former prostitute, a warlock, mother of a half-blood child; had caused quite the ripple in the gossip mills of the elvish city then the filing of these papers would have led to a virtual tsunami. He had been preparing to discuss it with Meadhbh since his active tour with the Argents had ended, but the time had never seemed quite right. Now that time would never come.

If the news of the fire and Ceara’s death had crushed him, then it had destroyed Meadhbh. Grief and rage had consumed her; there was no comfort or consolation that he could give. Light knows that he had tried. The fel light in her eyes had burned so bright that he could hardly look into them, and when he did he saw almost nothing of the woman he loved within them, she was lost behind the maelstrom of pain and fury.

And then she was gone.

He could have followed after her, but in the end that would have only made what she needed to do all the more painful for the both of them. So instead he had come here, to collect his own thoughts, to try and sort out just what he should do now, his world turned once more upside down.

At long last he tucked the box away yet again into the pocket that had for months been its home, it might still, one day, fulfill its intended purpose, once the flames of vengeance had burned low and the pain had been buried with the dead. His attention, then, turned to the stuffed animal in his hand and he came to his decision. He would strap on his shield and sword once more. Not for vengeance, for he knew now after having sought it so long before that it would bring him no peace. No, he would fight for the honor and the memory of this girl he had loved as his own, and to ensure that no others would have to grieve as Meadhbh did, as he himself did.

Holding it close to his chest it still smelled of her; the scent of cookies and pressed flowers still lingering in the fabric; his other hand reached out, tossing the papers into the magical flames, his eyes reading the words upon the front page one final time as the fires consumed them:

“I, Sir Wyat Lord Silverleaf, do hereby adopt....”

Current Location: Dalaran
Current Mood: morose

(( Author's Note: The following are the first part of Catclysm related character stories for my Refugees, and thus they follow the events of Meadhbh's story "Up in Flames." Many changes have already happened for those that have called the Refuge home, and many more are yet to come. ))

__________________

The tauren sat perched in the spreading branches of one of the baobab trees that dot the rolling savannas of the Barrens, an odd sight, to be sure, but one familiar to those knew him. This was his Greatmother’s tree, she had been born beneath its spreading branches, here she had found him so many times hiding from the bullies among its limbs, and here her last mortal remains rested, her ashes scattered among its roots feeding its life with what remained of her own. It had survived the return of Deathwing, and it was here that Kareth returned time and time again, for comfort, seeking clarity, or simply to reflect as he spoke to the spirit of the woman who had raised him. If she could hear him or not never concerned him, for his comfort was found in speaking aloud the words he could say to no other.

“Berene is gone, “ the words come haltingly at first. “She... There was a fire... Someone set fire to the Refuge. She died in the fire.... they say she rushed into the burning building to try and save the children. We found her huddled over Ceara, she was trying to save her...” Kareth’s words trail off as he is unable to hold back the tears. “An elf child. She finally learned, even if it was only at the end, that just because they are different than us doesn’t mean they are bad. Certainly individual elves and orcs and others have harmed us, done us wrong, but this child had never done any of that. I think she finally realized that, and in those final moments she learned to see them as individuals.”

“I never gave up on her, as you never gave up on me, Greatmother. Perhaps I was not able to teach her as well as you taught me, but before the end she saw the truth of it. She is with the Earthmother now, and after her spirit has rested may the Goddess grant her a happy life in her next journey around the great wheel of life.” Kareth pauses, wiping the tears from the fur of his cheeks, “After the rites are finished I will bring her ashes here to rest with you, Greatmother. Keep an eye on her now that she is gone to where I cannot.”

A faint smile tugs up at the corners of Kareth’s mouth as he sits in silence for several long minutes simply listening to the wind moving through the yellow grasses of the savanna and the sounds of life all around. At last he climbs down from his perch among the branches, hands and hooves finding the familiar holds with surprising ease and grace. He begins to walk away, but pauses a moment, turning back to look once more upon the old tree.

“The world has changed so much in the past few years, Greatmother,” Kareth’s spoke to the wind, “I have changed so much. I am not the frightened child any more. I am no longer the apprehensive young man afraid to follow his heart. I know now, more than ever, that I am ready to be the man you always knew I could be, Greatmother. I am needed, my new family needs me, my friends need me, and people I have yet to meet need me, I cannot let despair or doubt have hold on me. A storm is coming, Greatmother, and I am prepared to stand against it.”

Current Location: North Barrens, Kalimdor
Current Mood: thoughtful

(( I am cross posting this for the benefit of those who read my journal, but do not frequent the Thorium Brotherhood Downtime Forums so that the posts that follow will have proper context. This was written by my friend and long time guild leader Meadhbh/Rayen, who writes far better than I. Enjoy. ))

A/N: As I've mentioned, I'm doing a lot of character reconfiguring come Cataclysm. Among these changes is the retiring of Rayen and the Refuge, as well as the coming of some new characters/emphasis on different characters. This story is intended to explain those changes. I have invited some former Refugees to write their own responses to these events, if they wished to do so. I will be putting this story up in parts. The first part occurs during the Shattering, with the changes to Stonetalon. Also, I know that there is a player by the name of Shiriki now, who is not to be confused with the character of Shiriki who is Rayen's son.
( Up in Flames )

( I swear I saw a dragon )

Current Location: Tarren Mill, Hillsbrad
Current Mood: worried

((The following is based on events in the book "The Shattering" which take place at some point shortly before the world breaks.))

I can scarcely believe it. The past few days have been a whirlwind and I am still not sure I have everything sorted out myself.

Cairne is dead. The man my bother followed off to war, the leader who brought the tauren together and made us truly into one people, is dead.

The Grimtotem finally have done what was feared for so long, they have unleashed their coup upon the Bluffs. I am sure I saw some of my former tribe among them, my aunt has gotten her way. I hope she is happy, the Cloudtotem are no more, they are all Grimtotem now. Baine, son of Cairne, escaped the onslaught, and some of us with him. I don't think any of us knew just what we were going to do, only that we could not give up.

Then the Horde came. Garrosh may be many things, and I may never care for him as a leader, but he is an orc of honor, and he does not take well to being used as he was, nor to having his honor put in doubt as it was. He may be short sighted, war hungry and filled with anger, but he is, at the least, honorable.

*added later*

The Bluffs are retaken. It will take Ysera only knows how long to get everything sorted out here, and I haven't seen Berene since before all of this started, I am sure she had the sense to get somewhere safe, but for now I need rest. Going to travel back to the Refuge as soon as I am able, hopefully Mother has cookie or something in the oven. It will be nice to just be home.

Current Location: Mulgore
Current Mood: determined

It is late, but we finally made it as far as Tarren Mill. Thank the Loas.

My new traveling companion is still not well enough to have said much. I think all of the drugs are still working their way out of her system, and the after effects mixed with the swaying of the raptor were making her a bit nauseous I think, but I did at least get a name out of her, Tzippora.

We're going to rest here tonight. The town, such as it is, provides more comforts than our camps in the wild. In the morning we'll see if we can get a flight to Undercity, or if we will have to continue on foot.

I think things are maybe starting to look up a bit.

Current Location: Tarren Mill, Hillsbrad
Current Mood: hopeful

I think....
I don't know...
Maybe Auntie was wrong...

Kareth was right. I don't know how I'll ever tell him. But, Earthmother, he was right. They aren't so different from us in the end...

Thunder Bluff's been getting attacked for days now, and I've seen all of them, orcs, pointy... elfs, trolls, zomb... deade.... Forsaken, fighting just as hard as us for a city that ain't theirs. Fighting and dying, same as all of us.

I need time to think 'bout all this. Figure out what to tell Kareth. I can just see that smile of his he'll have when I tell him he's right, same one Greatmother always had. He's always been better with wordy stuff than me, but I gotta figure out how to tell him...

Gonna sneak off back to the Refuge soon as they clear riders heading out of here tonight. Might be able to think better up there without all this going on 'round me.

Current Location: Thunder Bluff
Current Mood: thoughtful

The world has gone insane... No... Insane isn't a strong enough word for it... it's gone fucking nuts...

I managed to "persuade" one the village guards to loan me a raptor, figuring that the sooner I can get back to civilization the sooner I can figure out what the fel is going on. My family, my unit, are out there in this mess and I have no way of knowing if they're alive or...

Anyway... Having the raptor sped up the trip considerably, at least it did until sometime around dusk last night when I got close to the Witherbark altar at Zul. Before that I'd managed to skirt the few patrols of Witherbark I'd come across, but this, this was something different.

It was a procession of trolls, a priestess in full regalia at the head of the line, followed by two more, less lavishly dressed priestesses carrying censers of burning incense. Then came the drummers, beating out a slow march. Behind the pair of musicians came the warriors, six of them in two rows of three, carrying between them a bier upon which writhed a young troll woman. The whole entourage marched slowly along the road from Jintha'alor toward the Altar of Zul, and I knew what they must be doing... they were going to sacrifice one of their own in an attempt to appease the spirits.

But the spirits are beyond appeasing... whatever is happening is not natural.

I couldn't let this happen... but what could I do?

I sat and watched the procession for what seemed like an eternity, it wasn't more than a few minutes, but it seemed like forever.

There were too many to take on my own. What could I do...

Then the idea hit me. I just had to hope that the madness that was consuming the world had not affected those elements that were bound to me.

I raced ahead of them, to a point in the road where it curved around a rocky outcropping so that they would not see me until they were past it. There I tied the raptor out  of sight and stripped naked, hiding my belongings with my mount. Hearing the Witherbark approaching I quickly prepared myself, placing the totem in the road and calling upon the spirit of the earth. Thank the loas it worked, the great earth elemental called forth still bound by my oath to the spirits. Without hesitation I climbed up to sit upon one great shoulder, and there, sitting upon the living stone, I waited for their arrival.

I didn't have to wait long.

The moment they were in sight I shouted at the top of my lungs, "STOP!"

The procession staggered and stared in equal parts surprise and shock. Not giving them a chance to recover themselves I began my charade, "The spirits of earth are angry!" I shouted, as only a Furiey can. "We hunger!"

The head priestess tried to speak, "Spirit! We bring sac..."

"We hunger NOW!" I interrupted, not wanting to give them time to compose themselves and realize that I was far less than what I seemed to be. I nudged the elemental with my heel and it rumbled forward a foot or two to punctuate my words. I could see the panic on some of their faces, fear of the elemental chaos raining down upon Azeroth having them already on edge.

"We feast upon you BLOOD!" With that the elemental lurched forward again, and their resolve broke. The first to flee were the musicians, their drums clattering to the road at their feet, forgotten as the fled. The cacophony of their frantic departure unsettled the priestesses, the echoes of the dropped drums off of the rocks making it sound as though the hills themselves were coming alive, and they almost immediately joined their bretheren in flight. The sight of their spiritual leaders fleeing in terror tipped the scales of the warriors from fight to flight and, dropping their sacrificial cargo they ran after the rest.

Part of me still cannot believe it worked. Thank Bwonsamdi that it did. I got all of us as far away from the road as quickly as I could, in case the other Witherbark regained their nerve and returned.

I still don't know anything about the girl, she was stoned out of her mind when I got to her and has yet to utter a sound that I could even begin to make sense of. She looks to be several years younger than myself, and they had dressed her in very fancy robes with stylized animals embroidered all over them. Right now we are camped near the crumbling walls of some abandoned ruin, and in the morning if she is still in this state I will get her situated on the raptor somehow and I'll lead it.

Looks like I'm going to be walking again....

Fuck...

Current Location: Hinterlands

Still not sure exactly what happened. The stone was going crazy, people talking over each other, nothing coming out clear enough to understand more than half of what was said, but still clear enough to figure out that some serious shit was going down in Orgrimmar. So I hit the stone to get my ass over there to do what I can, because if nothing else that place has been home to me for years now, and then next thing I know here I am in the Hinterlands. The stone hasn't been bound here for months, and besides that it didn't even dump me in Revantusk, instead it dropped me on top of Skulk Rock.

Judging from the weather the elements are in an uproar, and the spirits are none too happy themselves. Going to hoof it on over to Revantusk and see if I can get myself back where I need to be.

*added later*

FUCK!

Nothing flying out of Revantusk. Loas damned windrider master's grounded everything because of the mess the wind's making of everything. On top of that my stone's not working at all!

Fuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck...

Wasted the night and half the day getting here, now I just have to turn back around and walk my blue butt the other way.

Loas... it's going to be one fel of a long walk to Undercity from here...

FUCK!

Current Location: Hinterlands
Current Mood: frustrated