tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96925502024-03-13T17:42:59.628-06:00Geeking OutKelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-81410876721492850502008-11-20T03:26:00.002-06:002008-11-20T04:36:14.704-06:00Spelljammer Story, Chunk 9(Damn, someday I'm going to learn to do this before 2:00 AM. Anyway, 2047 words here, and 2086 on something else, which catches me up again.)<br /><br />When I arrived, I knocked gently, then let myself in. Haelle was lying on the bed, her arms at her sides. Her face was expressionless, but I could see from the set of her shoulders and the way she held her arms that she was tense as a harpstring. I pulled up a chair beside the bed, and nodded to her. "Rin says you're to be fed for the next couple of days, to give you time to recover. I'm the only one free for it." <br /><br /> She nodded slightly, and opened her mouth enough to whisper "I'll live." <br /><br /> I placed the bowls down on the table, and held out a spoonful for her. She took it gingerly, obviously expecting standard shipboard fare. Her face lit up in a pleased smile as her tongue disabused her of that notion, although that quickly became a wince as battered facial muscles protested. She whispered "Tastes good!" <br /><br /> I nodded, and smiled a bit. "Our cook is pretty good. He knows what to do with food. More?" <br /> <br /> She made another small nod, and I began feeding her the soup in earnest. She finished the bowl quickly, and I finished my own bowl soon afterward. We sat in silence for a minute, then I shrugged awkwardly. "Excuse me, I have to go." She nodded slightly, and I headed out.<br /><br /> Over the next couple of days, our routine became established. I'd come in with the food, and she'd eat in silence, or perhaps with a comment about the quality now and then. She didn't give thanks, and I didn't speak unless I had too. On the third day, though, Fort Haelle finally showed a crack in her walls. When I had finished feeding her lunch and had just got up to leave, she suddenly spoke up "Um... thank you!" <br /><br /> The last came out in a rush, and she closed her mouth with a look of mingled surprise and embarrassment, as though her tongue had betrayed her. I was a little shocked myself, but I nodded and shrugged. "Think nothing of it."<br /><br /> When I came to bring her supper that night, she was suddenly more talkative. As I was sitting down with our plates of soft-cooked stew, Haelle spoke up. "How goes the charging? Any word of when we're getting off of here?" <br /> <br /> I raised an eyebrow, and replied calmly "Anxious to escape our clutches?" <br /><br /> She colored a bit, but shot back gamely. "<i>No</i> one likes Verpax. You can't be any more eager to go than I. What's the best estimate?" <br /><br /> I pondered for a moment, but decided that a deadline couldn't be that helpful in an escape attempt. Besides, she probably had a good idea of how long it would take anyway. "Probably another four weeks, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. It's never precise with this sort of thing. As I'm sure you know." <br /><br /> She shrugged. "I've never had much to do with the lifestone. And we're usually in a position to charge it fast, anyway."<br /><br /> "Well, we can't exactly sun-dive here, now can we? If we got caught, I doubt your precious Navy would bother to ask questions before And that would be the end of <i>you</i> as well as us." I replied with some heat.<br /><br /> She shut her mouth in a tight line, and didn't say anything for the rest of the meal, not even to thank me. I cursed my quick tongue, and left with a downcast feeling I couldn't quite explain. The next day at breakfast, however, Haelle once again started a conversation. "How are the repairs coming?" she asked.<br /><br /> My heart brightened a bit for no reason I could place, and I took care to respond civilly. "Pretty well. We'll be finished patching long before the lifestone is charged. Of course, it's <i>just</i> patches, since I don't think wood fit for shipbuilding grows on Verpax, but we make do."<br /><br /> She tilted her head to the side a bit, and actually smiled! "So I've heard. Lord of Life knows that the Navy never bothers to come here for it. Practically proverbially worthless, as planets go."<br /><br /> I nodded, and turned to my food for a moment to hide a slight smirk. Haelle sounded a little <i>too</i> casual about dismissing Verpax as useless. I wondered if she knew why it was forbidden to the Navy, or if she was just assuming that it was good policy not to make anyone curious. I decided to change the subject for a bit. I was curious about the ban, but I didn't want to arouse her suspicions by questioning her about Verpax too closely. "So," I asked. "Just what <i>does</i> a Songmaster do all day, anyway? You're the first I've met, so it's all very thrilling."<br /><br /> Haelle frowned at my sarcasm, but her faced cleared, no doubt as she realized I was only teasing, not mocking. "Not too different from a ship's mage, I would imagine," she replied. "You cast the spells the captain orders you to, command the crew, and fight other mages if it comes to that. We just do it all more... musically." <br /><br /> I eyed her. "Really? Sounds very prosaic. I would have thought there would be, oh, concerts, or dances, or something. Why have a minstrel on board if they don't use music to entertain the crew from time to time?"<br /><br /> She frowned, and shook her head sharply, before wincing as her wounds warned her not to do that. "Songmasters are hardly common 'minstrels', Rafael. We have a gift granted to us by the Powers of The Circle, and we have a responsibility not to use it frivolously. We must only employ it when it is fitting to do so."<br /><br /> I looked at her in surprise. "So, you can't just <i>sing</i>? Or play? You can't whistle a tune to pass the time, or play a reel to liven up a dull evening? Can you do music at <i>all</i> if you're not doing magic with it?"<br /><br /> Her shoulders stiffened. "We may play or sing at certain ceremonial functions, or by command of the Admiralty, for special performances. It would not be..." She seemed to be searching for the right words in the language. "...Seemly. It would cheapen the gift we are given, to use it whenever we wish." <br /><br /> Her face was set firmly, but I thought I caught a hint of regret in her voice. I stood up in silence, gathered our finished plates, and headed for the door. Just before I left, I said back, over my shoulder "Well, I don't know protocol from a viper pit. But <i>I</i> think it's a shame to hide a real talent. And from what I heard of you in the fight, you do have talent."<br /><br /> I turned back and left, but I caught sight of her face for a moment as I was locking the door. Haelle had an expression of bright, open, honest joy, the first time I had really seen her untroubled features. I felt my heart skip a beat, and as I took the plates back to the kitchen my heart was singing a little song of its own. <br /><br /> Over the next couple days, Haelle and I had several more conversations. I learned some details of her life, although she was cagey on specifics. She was the third daughter of her family, and had been sent into Songmaster training as soon as her gift manifested itself. She had been on the <I>Purple Emperor</i> for about five years, and expected to stay there for another twenty before promotion. She had laughed at my surprise at that, and pointed out that to an elf, twenty five years was perhaps a twentieth of a lifespan, rather than the quarter it was for humans. "Besides," she had said laughingly "If we promote people too fast, the Navy would be all admirals, and no one would actually <i>do</i> anything!"<br /><br /> I learned that she actually preferred human food to elven, at least when it was properly prepared. Apparently, elven food was too light for her tastes. "It's always <i>fluffy</i>!" she had complained at one point. "An elf cook never saw an egg he didn't want to make into meringue! And tenderized meats are alright sometimes, but I like meat you can sink your teeth into." I had grinned a bit at that, and had pointed asked if she would have preferred that right then. She stuck her tongue out at me, and we both laughed.<br /><br /> She didn't go into detail much about life on the <i>Emperor</i>, no doubt feeling security-conscious, but I did learn that she was, as I had first guessed, effectively second ship's mage. There was a third mage below her, but from the way she spoke of him, I guessed that he was inexperienced at best. The first mage, on the other hand, seemed to be something of an object of fear for her. Haelle talked about him as if she was convinced that only self-restraint prevented him from unleashing raw magical chaos to destroy all enemies of the elves. Even if she was over-inflating his prowess, however, several stories she told of spells she had seen him cast - portals to other worlds, summoning elemental spirits, creating magical servants - all suggested that he was, indeed, very, very powerful. And worse, versatile, not the simple blaster wizard that elven ships often carried. I had to suppress a shudder or two at the thought of what he could have done to us if he had decided to accompany the boarding party. <br /><br /> The captain of the <i>Emperor</i> I heard about more than I liked, frankly. I learned his name quite quickly: Aareniel Liirae, apparently a second cousin of dear Troven. Haelle thought he lit the suns, carved the stars out of diamonds, and personally gave every planet a shove to start it circling. Once she started, she could not seem to stop talking about Captain Liirae. He was handsome (tall, blond, and rail-thin, I imagined). He was intelligent (can follow the Navy Book with a modicum of creativity now and then, most likely). He was kind (he didn't beat her, unlike his cousin). And he would do his best to rescue her, or any of his crew, from any peril (he may have made a note in his log about her loss). I managed to restrain myself during most of her speeches on the all-around wonderfulness of Captain Liirae, but a couple times I wasn't quite able to hold my tongue. Every time I failed to do so, I was treated to a very harsh reception. Haelle would get the coldest expression, then stop talking to me entirely for several hours. It would usually take two meals before she warmed up again. I learned to rein in my mouth a bit better, since those periods of silence were oddly disturbing to me. I had come to enjoy the conversations with Haelle, and losing them seemed almost too much to bear.<br /><br /> Over the five days that I ended up feeding her, I came to one conclusion. Haelle was younger than almost any other elf I had met. It didn't show obviously, but as we talked, I became more and more convinced. Despite looking like a fully-mature woman, perhaps just after her twenty-fifth year, she <i>acted</i> like a teenager trying to show how old she was. A particularly intelligent teenager, perhaps, capable of realizing what reactions would give away her youth and controlling them, but the reactions were there nonetheless, and I picked up on them. I was intrigued. In truth, our Songmaster was a mysterious elf. Younger than she should be, especially for a Songmaster, which required special training, by all accounts. Head-over-heels in love with a captain who was far beyond her reach, if I knew anything at all about Navy custom. And willing to put up with a vicious little sod of a superior officer, when I could clearly see that she was not someone to take any shit from anyone. A beautiful puzzle, inside a lovely little mystery, wrapped in an attractive enigma.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-71405215132746224932008-11-18T03:39:00.001-06:002008-11-18T03:40:25.237-06:00Spelljammer Story, Chunk 8(4037 words, plus 2003 words on another project, making me officially caught up!)<br /><br /> The <I>Jewel</I> continued to drop through the rain and the wind towards the surface. Now that we were clear of the terrible turbulence of the upper airs, the crew hustled to raise sail again and give us some maneuverability. As our sails caught the wind and bellied out, the landscape began to slide past beneath us. Captain Blake, still standing at the bow, pulled out his spyglass, and began scanning the terrain, looking for a good site to land. After a few minutes of steady descent, he seemed to find an interesting spot. He spent several seconds focused on it, then folded up the spyglass decisively and headed back across the deck to me. When he reached the helm, he was smiling a little, a good sign. "Good descent, Raphael. Very smooth." I nodded in thanks, and he continued. "I think I've spotted a place to land. Looks like a bay, good shelter, and trees around it, so we might be able to do some repairs while we're there." I shrugged, not wanting to break his optimism, but I felt I needed to warn him it might be misplaced. "It's a good thought, Captain, but I should warn you: the wood here is pretty terrible. Most of the trees are either soft, or half rotted, or else monstrous hulks that you'd have to hack at for a day just to make a dent." He sighed, and nodded, but didn't lose his smile entirely. "Well, we'll make the best of it, Raphael. Take us to four points north of west, and hold her steady. We should be touching down in half an hour." I acknowledged the order, and brought the helm around to the indicated course. The ship came about, and I set the wheel.<br /><br /> It was indeed almost exactly a half hour, by the sandglass, when our keel touched water. Now the crew began to truly relax. The easiest part of sailing is the part where you're going through the water. You don't have to worry about falling out of the sky, or being flipped about by winds, or any of the hundred other hazards that a sailor has to fear. The <I>Jewel</I> settled gently into the murky sea of Verpax, and we deactivated the liftstones. We sailed on, holding to the course Captain Blake had given us, and soon the coast came in sight through the rain. The mouth of the bay was almost directly before our bow, and I gentled us in, steering carefully for the center of the opening. We furled sails, and Rolf and a couple other crewmen rowed out in one of the ship's boats ahead of us, taking soundings. Verpax's seas had a reputation for shallows and shoals, and we didn't want to run aground. We sailed slowly on, only using our jib to catch the wind, carefully navigating the unknown waters of the bay. Finally, after another half-hour of slow, cautious maneuvering, we were safely ensconced in the middle of the bay. We dropped anchor, and began preparing for our stay.<br /><br /> As first mate, it was my job to lead the landing party. I gathered Rolf and four other crewmembers, and went ashore in one of the boats. The "shore" was, as I expected, a swamp, with the beach just barely rising above the water level for almost a hundred yards. Enormous mangroves covered the muddy shoreline, and the five of us had to scramble over and beneath their giant arches of roots. Finally, we passed the edge of the mudflat, and the mangroves ended. The ground rose slightly and became more rocky. It was still low and swampy, however, with pools of standing water everywhere. The trees were cypresses, and their enormous branches blocked out most of the light that leaked through the clouds. Ropes of moss hung down, and a layer of low fog hung over the ground. Our vision was limited to only a hundred yards or so before the mist and the darkness made spotting anything impossible. As we entered the swamp proper, thousands of insects rose up from their resting places and began to swarm around us. We were soon slapping flies, mosquitoes, and other, less savory things, and we found we had to stop every few minutes to pull leeches off our feet and legs, where they had crawled up.<br /><br /> We circled the bay, having started on the north side near the mouth. We trudged for nearly six hours, slowly making our way through the swamp and the muck. Along the way, we came across two small streams flowing into the sea, and marked them as places to get through the mangrove thicket that otherwise barricaded the shore. The water was foul, though, and I knew from bitter experience that we were unlikely to find better on the blasted planet. Our purifier would definitely have to be put to use here. Besides the streams, we found little of interest, unless your tastes ran to the natural philosophy of vicious biting insects. Finally, we made our way to the southern tip of the mouth of the bay, and used our flare to attract attention. They sent out another of the boats, picked us up, and we went back to the ship to report.<br /><br /> The captain wasn't too surprised by our lack of anything good to say about the area behind the bay. He had known Verpax's reputation before landing, after all. He shrugged when we finished, and stared off at the shore. "We'll just have to do what we can here, then, while we wait for the lifestone to charge. That looks like it's going to take at least five weeks, judging by the readings I've been taking. Make yourselves comfortable." The rest of us groaned, and went off to wash what we could of the clinging mud of the swamp away.<br /><br /> The next three weeks were unpleasant. Not as hellish as the first time I spent on Verpax, since this time I had company and a comfortable bed. But the insects quickly found the ship, and apparently they told all their friends, family, and distant accquaintances about us as well. Swarms of bugs hung in clounds around the <I>Jewel</I> at all times, and they crept into every crevice and cranny they could find, searching for warm flesh to bite, suck, or otherwise abuse. They nearly drove us mad for the first few days, until someone had the bright idea of putting spikefruit peel in one of our barrels of lamp oil. The result was pungent, to say the least, but a lamp lit with the stuff would keep insects out of the room nicely. We left lamps burning low in most rooms, and we were finally able to sleep reasonably comfortably at night.<br /><br /> Unfortunately, the solution didn't work well for the elves. Haelle and Troven seemed to have some sort of bad reaction to the smell. After a few minutes of breathing the spikefruit-laced smoke, they would begin to wheeze, cough, and go pale. We didn't risk any longer exposure, so they had to suffer through the attacks of the insects. Of course, Troven didn't really wake up for the first week at all, so he missed the worst of the bug attacks. Haelle continued to help him the whole time, feeding him the food we provided, moving him to prevent bedsores, and brushing the bugs away whenever possible. I wondered, looking in on them a few times, whether they were lovers. It would be against protocol in the Navy, but perhaps Songmasters were an exception to the rule?<br /><br /> When Troven woke up, eight days after we had landed on Verpax, my impression was quickly shattered. I happened to be nearby when he finally regained consciousness, and I was treated to a temper tantrum that would have embarressed a human five-year-old. Coming from an elf who was probably two hundred, it was utterly ridiculous. Troven delivered his dressing down in High Vitae; no doubt he assumed that non-elves simply wouldn't understand it. Of course, he was mostly right. His bad luck that one of the three people on board who <I>did</I> understand was in the area.<br /><br /> Troven demonstrated his diplomatic skills right from his first sentence. "Dammit, where the hell are we? What the hell is going on, Haelle? Why aren't we on the <I>Emperor</I>?" I didn't catch her response, Haelle having the sense to keep her voice down even when speaking in a different language. His reapons was a shout. "The <I>hammership</I>? Lust's sagging tits! What the <I>hell</I> are we doing there?" Another low response from Haelle. "<I><b>Captured</I></b>? You stupid <I>cow</I>! How could you be so idiotic as to let them capture us? They're a bunch of deck apes and mud-eaters! Have you even tried to escape? Where are they taking us, anyway?" He paused for an answer from Haelle, and then his voice rose to a scream. "<I><b>Verpax?</b></I> Wrath, Lust, and Envy eat your entrails, Haelle! You know that's forbidden! The Admirality will have your stinking head on a spike for allowing this! How could you be so <I>stupid</I>!" There was a bruised sounding silence for a minute, which I spent pondering just why Verpax was forbidden. There had never been a blockade imposed on it that I knew of, which implied that it was only forbidden to the Navy, not to outsiders. Which made no sense at all. Why would the Navy forbid its personal from visiting a world that was completely within their sphere?<br /><br /> Finally, I made out Haelle's voice, no more than whispering. Troven was still screaming in response, however. "I don't care how sorry you are, you whore! This is your fault, and I will see to it that you get your full share of the punishment for it when we get back! Now shut up, I have to plan an escape, since you seem to be incapable of outthinking a pack of animals!" His tirade apparently finished, I heard him get up and begin pacing the deck. I headed off, thoughtful, but I quietly asked the guards to get me if there were any more outbursts. Hopefully, Troven would continue to be incautious enough to blurt out his plans at top volume. I made sure to inform Captain Blake that Troven was planning to escape, and then let the matter lie for a while.<br /><br /> Over the next two weeks, I came to heartily hate Third Officer Troven Liirae. He was possibly the rudest elf I had ever met, and that was saying quite a lot. The arrogance that he had displayed when he first came on board the <i>Jewel</i> was nothing compared to the petulance and rage he was now indulging in. His pride had clearly been pricked by the capture, and he was even more offended by the stories the crew had told him about the likely fate of the <i>Purple Emperor</i>. He had not had a chance to recognize what had shot him down, and we took some glee in laying out the Navy ship's likely fate, faced with such an opponent. In retaliation, he initially heaped abuse on the crew, using every epithet and slur he could dredge up, hurling small objects until he ran out, and threatening dire punishments to every crew member, their families, their friends, and practically everyone they had ever met. This lasted all of a day, until the captain came down to the hold and had a quiet talk about what exactly would happen to Troven if he persisted in abusing the crew. I wasn't there for it personally, but apparently "limbs broken and tied out in the swamp for the animals" was brought up, and apparently the captain was able to convince the elf of his sincerity, since the harassment of the <i>Jewel's</i> crew more or less ended after that. However, Troven then proceded to take out his frustration on his fellow Navy captives. Within the next two days, the guards summoned me to witness no less than five screaming rages, where he upbraided Haelle and the two marines mercilessly, blaming them for his current predicament, accusing them of sabotaging his career, of plotting his death or humiliation, of attempting to sell us all out to the Necros elves, and half a dozen equally-implausible theories. At some point, he apparently discovered that Haelle had assisted us against the voidwight, and that was added to her list of faults. It seemed that aiding us and destroying the monster was one more sign of her stupidity - <i>Troven</i> would have let it kill us all, then defeated it single-handedly. I was feeling more and more sorry for Haelle.<br /><br /> On the third day, we realized something was brewing. Troven hadn't ranted at the other Navy personal for several hours, and he was obviously trying to act polite to the crew who were on guard. Oddly, this failed to lull us into a false sense of security. The guards were wary, and so they were not taken in when Troven made his break. An hour after their supper had been served, Haelle called the guards and told them that Troven had been taken ill. She indicated the bed, where blankets covered something. Drune and Undine were the guards on duty, and they guessed something was up. Undine went off to get the surgeon, and along the way he gathered Rolf, the captain, and myself as well. When we got back, the three of us held back, out of sight of the stateroom, while Rin went in to "inspect" Troven, accompanied by Undine. The other Navy members carefully kept to the walls, obviously trying to be non-threatening. Just as Rin got to the bed, Troven made his move. He was invisible - obviously he had gotten Haelle to cast her spell on him again. He yanked the door open, and bolted. Unfortunately for him, Rolf, the captain, and I had been expecting something like this. As the door opened, I cast the mist spell that had proved so effective before over the room. Then Rolf and Captain Blake tackled the hapless third officer while he was still stunned by the sudden turn of events. Drune closed the door again to make sure the other Navy types didn't try to help out, and then joined Rolf and the captain in subduing our attempted escapee. It took them almost a minute before he was completely convinced that he wasn't somehow going to wriggle free. When it finally dawned on him that he was caught, he began a string of curses so vile that I almost blushed. The elf had a tongue on him worse than any sailor I had ever heard! I wandered over to the door, and caught Haelle's eye through the window. "Might as well drop the spell," I suggested to her. "We've caught him, no sense taking more energy to keep him invisible." She nodded with resignation, obviously unsurprised at how the plan had worked out. Troven returned to visibility, revealing the unique shade of purple his face had assumed in his rage. We threw him back in the stateroom, after removing Rin and Undine, and we left them for the night. It was clear that Troven knew that we were frankly more amused than anything at his escape attempt, and it only made him more furious.<br /><br /> The next morning, it became clear to me just <i>how</i> furious he had been. When I checked in on the prisoners, I saw Troven sitting at the table, calmly eating his morning meal. But Haelle was not immediately obvious. I quickly scanned the cell, trying to spot her. It was possible that she had staged her own escape attempt last night, counting on us to lower our guard after Troven's amateurish try. But it didn't take me long to realize how wrong I was. I spotted Haelle in the far corner of the stateroom, half hidden behind the bed. She was lying on her side, curled into the fetal position, her arms clutched around her stomach. For a second, I didn't comprehend what had happened. Then she moved her head slightly, and I saw the streaks of blood that covered the side of her face. I instantly went red with rage. I hated officers who abused their crew - it was one of the few things I absolutely refused to tolerate. But this went beyond even the petty sadism I had seen some captains display, the casual orders for corporal punishment for small infractions. This was brutality. I recognized the signs of a vicious beating, and now that I listened, I could hear Haelle's breath coming in agonized sobs.<br /><br /> I sprinted off to find the captain, and explained what I had seen as best I could, while trying to choke down the urge to go back and slice Troven's slimy head off his neck. The captain listened quietly, then nodded decisively. "We've got to get Troven out of there, or he'll beat the rest of them every time he gets a setback. And if they're typical Navy, they'll lie there and take it." I nodded, finally somewhat more calm. "Actually, I had a thought about that, Captain..." He listened to my suggestion, and when I had finished, he gave a low chuckle. "I <i>like</i> it, Raphael. See to it." I smiled grimly back, and went off to put my plan in motion.<br /><br /> I soon grabbed a couple extra crew members, in case Troven or the marines put up a fight, and headed back down to the stateroom. I slammed open the door, trying to catch them by surprise. It worked - Troven nearly fell over backward as I burst in. "Alright, you lot," I shouted "On your feet! You're being moved to different quarters, since we obviously can't trust you together! Troven, you first!" I grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him upright. He didn't have time to do more than sputter a protest before the two humans I had brought along grabbed his arms and rushed him along. We closed the door behind us, and moved him up the gangway. We turned right at the stairs leading up to the upper deck, and for a second Troven looked hopeful. He probably thought we were moving him to quarters "more appropriate to his station", like the first officer's cabin or something. No such luck, though. We moved past the stairs, and I opened the small door immediately beside it. Troven took one sniff of the unpleasant odor emanating from within, and shouted "No! This is repulsive! I <i>demand</i> that you..." He was cut off as I took his collar again, and yanked him past me, into the darkness of the head. I closed the door behind him, and dropped the bar that I had had the ship's carpenter install across the door. I could hear Troven pounding on the door, but I didn't care. I headed back to the prisoner's stateroom with a warm feeling of satisfaction.<br /><br /> We moved the two marines as well, although we were considerably more polite about it, and we simply put them in the other stateroom. Both of them were sporting bruises, I noticed, which made me feel rather more charitable towards them. As usual, they bore up under the change with a minimum of fuss or complaint. Just before I left the stateroom, though, one turned to me. "Take care of her?" He requested. I didn't need to ask who he meant. I just nodded. He nodded back in satisfaction, and turned back into his new accommodations. I returned to the original stateroom, and looked in on Haelle. Rin was seeing to her, and had already got her up on the bed. He was cleaning a cut on her forehead, and she was wincing. Now that she had uncurled, I could get a better idea of the extent of her injuries, and I winced. Her face was a mass of purple and red, with one eye swollen almost shut, and the cut across her forehead that must have been from one of Troven's rings. Her right arm she had laid carefully out straight, and I could see a large bruise on her forearm, only half-hidden by her uniform sleeve. I couldn't see any other obvious wounds, but I noticed dust and mud in several places on her shirt and trousers, no doubt where Troven had landed kicks. And she seemed to dislike moving; every time she shifted as the surgeon worked on her cut, she had to stifle a gasp of pain. I plotted murder in my mind.<br /><br /> I waited outside the stateroom for Rin to finish. He finally came out almost an hour later, shaking his head. He sat down at the table with me, and took a pull of the brandy flask I passed him. When he had swallowed and wiped his mouth, he looked up and caught my eye. "Bastard really worked her over," he commented. "What's the damage?" I asked. "Bruises everywhere. Not just the face. He kept kicking her after she went down, and I don't know how long he kept it up. She'll be limping for a while, he caught her good on the shin. Honestly, I'm shocked she hasn't broken anything. I would have expected cracked ribs, at the least. He certainly left enough bootmarks on her there." I shook my head. "Elves have tough bones," I offered. "At least, the Navy types do. One of the first things they ever changed, apparently. They may look thin, but an elf's bones will stand up to twice the punishment yours or mine will." Rin was silent for a moment before responding. "Well, she's lucky, then, that's for sure. As it is, she'll be hurting for at least another two weeks. She shouldn't be out of bed for another couple days, that's for sure." Now Rin looked up at me, an odd expression on his face. I could swear he was repressing a smile. "She'll probably need someone to feed her for a bit. Any suggestions?" I thought about the crew roster, and shook my head. "Everyone's busy, really. The guards can't devote that much time to just feeding her, it'll give the others a chance to make a break. And everyone else is working on repairs." I shrugged. "I guess I could do it. I'm not really busy, since everyone knows their jobs." Now I was <i>sure</i> Rin was hiding a smirk. But he didn't let me in on the joke, only said "Sure, that sounds good. Makes sense. Give her small portions at first, so she doesn't have to chew much. Troven clipped her jaw pretty good a few times, and working that will hurt." I nodded, mystified by the continued note of amusement in his voice. "Anything else?" I asked? "Nothing you can't work out, I don't think," he replied. "Have fun, Raphael!"<br /><br /> After he left, I sat for a while, trying to puzzle out the joke, but eventually I gave up. I realized that it was time for the meals for the prisoners anyway, so I went to the galley to grab Haelle's portion. Luckily, Nine-Toes is a very competent cook, capable of making ship food not just edible, but actually <i>good</i> - a rare treasure. He had prepared soup and had used the hardtack that made up most of our meat supply as the base. It had been simmering since the night before, and by now the meat, normally tough as old boot leather, was soft and almost tender. Combined with the spices that Nine-Toes always seemed able to produce, and served with rice, the meal was downright tasty. I told Nine-Toes of Haelle's need for soft food that didn't need much chewing, and he nodded and promised to see to it that the next few meals were soft. He poured me two hearty portions of the soup, and I headed back to the Songmaster's stateroom.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-65308894505566532122008-11-17T05:19:00.001-06:002008-11-17T05:20:19.112-06:00Spelljammer story, chunk 7(Playing catch-up, so this one's a long one. 6022 words.)<br /><br />For the first few hours, we played cards, one of the interminable<br />low-stakes games that sailors love. It needs enough skill to hold the<br />interest, but it's not so involved that you can't chat or drink at the<br />same time. None of us played very seriously, simply content to sit<br />around the table, smoke our pipes, and sip the hot rum Captain Blake<br />had ordered distributed. Eventually, most of the coins ended up in<br />front of Rolf. I had finally gone out a few hands before, and had<br />settled back to watch. By now, the cold had settled in, even here<br />belowdecks. Our oil lamp was only giving off a small pool of warmth. I<br />shivered, and wrapped my thick cloak closer around myself. I saw the<br />others finish off the game, and likewise huddle up as they felt the<br />chill. Rolf gathered his winnings together, put them in his pouch, and<br />refilled his pipe. Everyone settled closer to the lamp, and no one<br />spoke for a long time. All around me, I could feel the cold growing<br />more intense, and I felt a great exhaustion begin to creep over me. As<br />I stared at the lamp flame, it shifted and waved. My eyes began to<br />droop closed, and I heard faint snores from the other. Deep in my<br />mind, something was screaming that this was badly wrong, that falling<br />asleep would be the end of us, but I was too tired to do anything<br />about it.<br /><br />I was abruptly jerked awake by a ringing blow to the head. I leaped<br />out of my chair and looked wildly about. For a second, sleep still<br />clouded my mind, making it impossible to grasp what had happened. Then<br />I saw a tin cup rolling on the floor, and movement at the cell door<br />caught my eye. I looked up, and saw Haelle. Her hand was still out<br />from throwing the cup. Emotions ran like lightning though my mind.<br />First, rage at the thrown cup. Then, as I realized that her actions<br />had woken me from a sleep that would probably have been my last, I<br />felt a wave of relief and gratitude. Finally, I took in her<br />expression. Her eyes were wide, and her face was deathly pale. She was<br />staring down the gangway, behind me, and her expression was full of<br />terror. I spun in the direction Haelle was looking, and her terror now<br />flooded into me. Walking down the passageway was a figure of<br />nightmares. It was humanoid, but far from human. Skin black as space<br />covered a frame that was emaciated, stretched tight over the bones.<br />The hands were raised ahead of it, and the fingers ended in vicious<br />claws. But the worst of all were the eyes. They were black orbs, even<br />darker than its skin. In the center of each was a pinpoint of light,<br />like a single star in an otherwise empty sky. And now those pinpoints<br />were focused firmly on me.<br /><br />The apparition advanced, and I backed up with a moan of fear. A<br />voidwight! Our luck was clearly going from bad to worse. Voidwights<br />were a scourge of the spaceways, but they were rare. Created when some<br />poor soul was cast into wildspace, and froze to death cursing the<br />people who killed them, voidwights eternally hungered for the warmth<br />of living creatures. And they carried the cold of the void with them.<br />As I watched, the undead thing walked casually down the gangway toward<br />me. At its feet, frozen patterns of frost radiated out from its feet.<br />I stumbled back even further, and my legs crashed into the table. The<br />shock broke the frozen panic that the voidwight's appearance had<br />evoked in me, and I grabbed for my cutlass. But I knew my hope was<br />slim, at best. Voidwights had the strength of death in them, and their<br />touch was infused with killing cold. The thing was still ten yards<br />away, and it was advancing, slowly and casually. It had a cruel smile<br />on its thin, fleshless lips, and I knew that if it hadn't lost its<br />voice to the void, it would have been laughing. It was enjoying<br />itself.<br /><br />Well, I decided, there was no sense in giving up before I was dead. I<br />screamed, and waved my cutlass about. I gave quick slaps with the flat<br />of my cutlass to all the crew I could reach. Rolf was the first to<br />clear his eyes of sleep, and he followed my pointing sword. His eyes<br />widened, but he grasped the situation faster than I had. He pulled out<br />his own cutlass, and began shaking the other crew members awake.<br />Meanwhile, the voidwight continued its slow, dreadful advance. I<br />stepped forward, raised my cutlass, and prepared myself as best I<br />could.<br /><br />My sword in a cautious mid-guard position, I walked steadily toward<br />the creature, moving at the same steady pace it had adopted. We met in<br />the middle of the gangway, and we both paused for a second. Then the<br />voidwight slashed at me, its claws tracing white-blue lines of frost<br />through the air. I parried – and the jolt almost knocked the sword<br />from my hand. The thing was slower than me, but its strength was in a<br />whole other league. It slashed twice more, and I stuck to dodging, not<br />wanting to be disarmed. Then I attempted a cut of my own. The<br />voidwight tried to block the blow with its claws, but I easily wove<br />around the slow defense, and struck the creature hard on the arm. I<br />knew it was a solid blow, but the blade barely entered the flesh. My<br />fear increased, and the voidwight opened its mouth in a soundless<br />laugh. It swiped at me again, and I barely got out of the way. I heard<br />my cloak tear as the claws cut too close.<br /><br />Then, to my relief, I had support. Rolf appeared on my right, and<br />Egar, the bosun, on my left. Now three cutlasses faced the voidwight,<br />and I began to hope again. The three of us struck almost<br />simultaneously, the two halflings at the monster's legs, and I with a<br />straight stab into its chest. The wight blocked Egar's blow, but both<br />Rolf's and my sword struck home. And the hope that had grown in my<br />heart died again. Rolf's sword had struck hard at the voidwight's<br />knee, a blow that would have easily crippled a human. And my thrust<br />had gone deeply into the monster's chest. But Rolf's cutlass edge rang<br />and bounced back, barely cutting the flesh. And the voidwight merely<br />looked down at my cutlasss sticking out of its chest, reached down,<br />grabbed it by the blade and pulled it free. As it pulled, white frost<br />crystals rushed down the blade in a wave from its hand, and I felt a<br />sudden piercing pain as the hilt almost froze my hand. I let go with a<br />cry, and the voidwight finished extracting my sword. It dropped it<br />contemptuously. When it struck the floor, the blade chimed like a<br />glass dropped on stone and shattered. I retreated, cursing, my one<br />decent weapon gone. One of the other halflings moved to take my place,<br />but I didn't think much of our chances. The voidwight was just too<br />strong.<br /><br />Even as I watched, the creature struck again, and this time it<br />connected. Egar hadn't dodged in time, and the voidwight managed to<br />strike his arm. Egar screamed, and I could see his flesh turn bluish<br />and then white beneath the monster's touch. Still screaming, Egar<br />stumbled backwards. The rest of the crew was awake by now, and another<br />halfling sprinted in to fill the gap. Two others caught Egar and<br />dragged him backwards. I could see that his arm and hand were now<br />totally motionless, and I knew with dreadful certainty that he would<br />lose the arm. I had seen the effects of frostbite before, and the<br />voidwight's touch was like a week of frostbite in one terrible second.<br />I retreated further, and cast about myself for a weapon. Again, my eye<br />caught Haelle. She was now staring at me, and when she caught my<br />glance, she gestured frantically at the collar that kept her silent. I<br />must have looked surprised, because she rolled her eyes at me, and<br />mimed making spellcasting gestures, then pointed at the voidwight and<br />drew a finger across her throat. Her meaning was clear: free me, and I<br />can use magic to help kill it.<br /><br />I considered, but I quickly realized that I had little choice. Few of<br />my spells would be helpful against the undead thing – my most damaging<br />spell was the fireball I had used on the orc ship, and that was far<br />too risky to use in the cramped quarters here. Setting the ship on<br />fire would be a cure worse than the disease. If Haelle had any spells<br />that would help, I had to try. My decision made, I moved to open the<br />door. I kept close watch on the Songmaster, in case she tried any<br />tricks, but her eyes remained fixed on the voidwight. I moved to tap<br />the release catch on her collar – and froze. I had no quartz to touch,<br />my sword hilt was sitting on the deck five yards away, now beneath the<br />feet of the voidwight as it pushed the crew slowly back. I cast my<br />eyes about, desperately searching for something that would allow me to<br />release the collar. Suddenly, my gaze was caught by a glitter from the<br />front of Haelle's uniform tunic. Part of her Songmaster insignia was a<br />clear crystal. I took a gamble, and grabbed at it. Haelle turned<br />toward me, her face twisted in anger and mouth open in a soundless<br />shout. I tapped the release pattern as fast as I could, and figured<br />there'd be time to apologize later. The collar came off, and the<br />Songmaster's voice suddenly rang out in the close quarters. "...etched<br />creature! How /dare/ you? This is /not/ the time..." Her voice trailed<br />off as she realized that she could hear her own voice. I shrugged, and<br />displayed the opened collar. She glared at me, then moved forward into<br />the gangway. "Alright. I have something that might weaken it, but<br />you'll need to take it out physically after that. Get yourself a new<br />sword – these things are vulnerable to a head blow, and those halfer<br />mates of yours won't be able to reach."<br /><br />I growled, disliking her peremptory tone, and disliking the<br />derogatory term for halflings even more. But beggars don't get to<br />choose, so I moved forward, snatching up Egar's cutlass as I went. It<br />was uncomfortable, the grip sized for a halfling's hand rather than a<br />humans, but it was better than nothing. I moved up until I was just<br />behind the front line, and waited for my chance, swiping at the voidwight's claws whenever they came close, trying to prevent it striking me or any of the other crew. I didn't have to wait long. From behind me, I heard a whistled tune, a happy, warm song that spoke of lazy summer days whit birds wheeling in a cloudless sky. And the effect matched the impression. Just behind the monster, I saw a sudden brightness in the air, as if there was a knothole in the deck above letting in a shaft of sunlight. The circle of light hovered for a fraction of a second, and then began to expand rapidly. It swept over the voidwight, past us, and back towards the stateroom. In the other direction, it almost reached the stairway to the deck. As the light swept past me, my eyes blinked and watered, as if I had been looking at the sky just as the sun came out from behind a cloud. I cleared my vision, just in time to see that I was not the only one reacting as if the sun had made an appearance. <br /><br /> The voidwight had its mouth open, but it was no longer laughing. Now it was howling a soundless scream, its face twisted in fear and agony. I could see wisps of steam melting off its frozen flesh, and I smelled an ugly odor of burning and rotten meat. Voidwights are creatures of cold and darkness, and they take care never to come in too close to a sun for exactly this reason. But Haelle had brought the sun to it, and it didn't like it at all. From behind me, I heard her shout, her casting done. "Hit it /now/, you fool!" She was almost too late, and so was I. The voidwight was already overcoming its shock, turning to flee for the stairs to escape the dreadful light of day. But my reflexes were faster. I made a short, chopping strike, my blade burying itself halfway into the voidwight's skull. It froze, its motion halted. I held my breath - with creatures like this, even a strike like that might not end their threat. But it seems that Haelle had spoken truly. My blade suddenly jerked as the weight of the voidwight was removed. With no more fanfare than a gentle hissing noise, the walking corpse was collapsing into black dust. Within seconds, even that was gone, as a cold wind took it and blew it down the hall and out the hatch.<br /><br /> Everyone lowered their weapons, with various sighs, groans, and a couple of cheers. I turned to survey the damage. Egar seemed to be the worst. He was now sitting against the wall, his eyes glazed, clutching his arm. Rolf walked over to him and carefully prodded the white flesh where the voidwight had touched. He moved his fingers over it for a moment, then looked up at me and shook his head. I knew my guess had been right. The flesh was dead, frozen. Egar's arm had to come off, before the flesh thawed, and rot set in. I stiffened my spine, and nodded back to Rolf. "Round up the surgeon, then. No time to waste on this," I said. Rolf grunted, and stood, heading down the gangway towards the stern, where we knew the ship's surgeon had holed up with a couple other humans. <br /><br /> I turned to Haelle. "Thank you," I offered, as politely as I could under the circumstances. "You saved our lives twice, there. We owe you." She shrugged, and I could see a slight flush of embarrassment on her face. "It was that or die after /you/ had been killed. I was saving myself and Troven." I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to press the issue. If she wanted to be humble, I wasn't going to argue too hard about it. I still felt an obligation to her, though, and I decided that, bad idea though it might be, I had to give her something. "After this, don't worry about us spacing you. Whatever else happens, we /will/ try to get you back alive to the Navy." I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, and gestured with my other hand towards the stateroom-cell. "Sorry to be so hasty about this, but you'd best get back in there." She sighed and nodded. She moved back towards the cell door, but just before she reached it, she pushed her hair over her shoulder, and turned her head to catch my eye. "Hurry up and put that damn gag back on, would you?"<br /><br /> I thought for a second, and decided to be stupid again. I shook my head. "No, I don't think you need it. We'll leave it off for now. Just don't try to escape - I'd hate having to hear Rolf tell me how stupid I'd been, and I'd hate having to stab you while he told me." She actually smiled at bit, at the last, and gave one quick nod. She moved into the cell, and I locked the door behind her. I watched her return to her chair and wrap herself in the yak hide again, staring into the lamp flame with a look of concentration. Finally, I wrenched my gaze away, and surveyed the scene. The surgeon came running up, followed by Rolf, and the two of them quickly lifted Egar and carried him to the opposite stateroom. They closed the door, and I sighed with relief. That sort of operation was a nasty business, and I didn't want to watch it if I didn't have to. With luck, Egar would be sufficiently sedated from the drugged brandy the surgeon carried on him, so we wouldn't have to hear the screams.<br /><br /> I quickly began organizing the others again. "Alright, everyone! We made it through <i>that</I> little mess, but we are not out of this yet! From now on, we set watches. I want two people awake and moving at all times. Two hour watches, and keep each other awake, damn it! We don't need to lose anyone else to the cold. Check on sleepers regularly, make sure that they're warm enough." I called on a couple of the younger halflings. "Drune, Tallen, check on the other groups. Make sure everyone gets the orders, and tell them what happened here. We don't want any other monsters sneaking up on us from out of wildspace, either." The two of them nodded, and dashed off to do their duty. I groaned, then, and went over to the spot in the hall where I had met the voidwight. I sank to my knees, and began picking up shards of my cutlass. It was a damn shame what had happened to it, I mused. It had been a damn good weapon. Not the finest product of a dwarven forge, certainly, but it had stood up to three long years of use and occasional abuse, and I had been fond of it. I gathered as many pieces as I could find, and tucked them into a sack. Hopefully, I could find a mage to bind the parts into a whole, and even if I could not, having the steel would probably reduce the price I would pay a smith to forge me a new blade. The hilt, however, I left out of the sack. I wrapped the broken blade edge in a leather thong, to prevent the edges cutting me or my clothing, and tucked it into my belt. Having a piece of quartz on hand could be useful, even if I wasn't muting Haelle anymore. <br /><br /> I stood as part of the first watch after the fight. My blood was running too high to sleep anyway, and I shuddered to think of the cold sleep of death that I had almost fallen into before it. After an hour, the surgeon and Rolf came out of the other stateroom, and settled down to join me. Both of them were bloodspattered, but not seriously so. The surgeon knew his work. Avenrin (just "Rin" to most of us) was a lanky young human, with a shock of red hair cut short. His face was lean, with prominent cheekbones, a square chin that jutted out ahead of him, and a long nose. He could put you in mind of a war-galley coming on at ramming speed, particularly when a tricky procedure made him set his jaw and frown. Now, however, he was just weary, the strain of events telling on him. Dark shadows had formed beneath his eyes, and he looked two decades older than his twenty years. "Bad business, Rafael," he said, after a few minutes of us sitting in silence. "Had to take the arm off above the elbow, the ice had reached that far. And Rolf said it was only one touch?" He eyed me quizzically, and I nodded. "Amazing. I'd heard stories of this sort of thing, but I've never seen the effects myself. Have you?" I shook my head. Rolf had been staring quietly into the lamplight, but now he grunted out a quiet "I have."<br /><br /> Rin and I looked at him with some surprise, and waited for a few moments. Rolf finally elaborated. "'Bout ten years ago, before you joined the crew," he gestured towards me "we met one in the Blood Nebula." I stiffened, suddenly realizing why I had never heard the story, but Rin was younger, and hadn't learned some of the bad places to take a conversation on the <i>Jewel</i> just yet. "Really? I've heard of the Blood Fog, of course, but I never knew anyone had been in there! What was it like? Why'd you go in in the first place? It's got a black reputation!" Rolf grunted, his face a dark scowl, but after a second he spoke. "Were running. Deathbug caught us in Crown-of-Bones system, and was going to smash us." I kept my expression calm, but inside I was listening intently. This was bizarrely rare. All the older crew simply didn't talk about the Blood Nebula - simply mentioning the name was enough to kill a conversation dead, and new crew members quickly learned not to bring it up. And to have Rolf, the most taciturn man I knew, telling the story, was doubly odd. He went on. "Cap'n tried to go into the Bloodcloud to lose the bug, and shave some time off the run to Heartlight. Thought we'd cut through a narrow area, only be in there a day, maybe less. We were fine for half a day, 'fore they found us. Then it was hell. Bonespiders first, waves of them." I shuddered in sympathy. Bonespiders weren't powerful undead, simply two skeletal hands joined at the wrists to create one skittering horror, but they were dangerous in numbers. "We dealt with them, but everyone got a little cut up. Which lead the bloodmist to us. Fought that off, but we lost five men doing it."<br /><br /> Rin looked puzzled, and interrupted. "What's a bloodmist? I've never heard of it before." Rolf didn't answer, still staring into the candleflame, so I spoke up instead. "Animated blood, basically. Take one human, take away everything but the blood, and then give that blood a hunger for more, and the ability to move around and batten on to any open wound, and you've got the picture. It can suck a man dry through a cut that wouldn't even need a bandage, if you give it a chance. And the only way to hurt it is with fire, or acid. You can slice at it for hours with a sword, and do nothing for your trouble." I fell silent, and Rin looked impressed. We both turned back to Rolf, but he continued to sit in silence as the pause grew. Finally, he spoke again, old pain suddenly sharp in his voice. "They let us be for a watch or so. Then three voidwights arrived at once. That was bad. We lost eight more people, and two others lost arms. We got them when Timon doused them with oil, and Sarai caugth them with a fireball." Now it was my turn to be confused. I knew Timon, he was an old human who had been on the crew when I started, although he had since retired. But I didn't know Sarai, and Rolf had said her name as though she had been very close indeed. <br /><br /> Rolf had gone silent again, and Rin and I watched him, waiting to see if he'd finish the tale. Finally, after the pause had drawn out several minutes, he began to speak again, his voice now low and husky. "After the voidwights were gone, we had some more peace. We were almost to the edge of the nebula when the bonebat hit us." His voice choked with old fear, and we listeners widened our eyes. We had all heard of bonebats. Huge skeletal constructions of human bones shaped into the forms of bats, the size of a small ship, and with a terrible hunger for flesh. They would eat anything living that they could catch, then add its bones to their own body. And they were strong as iron. A sword would just bounce off. A cannonball could hurt one, but they were agile flyers. You would have to be <i>very</i> lucky indeed to hit one with a cannon. Rolf went on "It came out of the mist at us fast. Didn't know what the hell was going on at first. Grabbed two people and flew out as fast as it came in. We heard the screams out in the mist, and we figured out what was going on. When it came back in, we laid into it with muskets and pistols, but it didn't do a damned lick of good. Grabbed another man, flew on out again. Kept that up for an hour. It would fly in, grab at someone, fly out, eat them, then wait in the mist for a while. We heard every scream. It took another ten of us, all by itself. We knew that if we lost many more, we wouldn't be able to sail the ship, even if we got out of the nebula." Rolf paused again, and now I could see his shoulders shaking, from tension and sorrow. "On the last run, Sarai finally got it. It came in, grabbed the helmsman, went out. But Sarai was waiting. She managed to jump over the side onto its back, carrying a keg of gunpowder. We didn't know she was going to do it, she just flew out of the hatch just after it. It disappeared, and then all we heard was the blast. Damn near knocked me over the side. After that, nothing. We got out of the Bloodcloud half an hour later, and we limped into Heartlight after another week. Ten us us left, out of thirty who started in. And there would have been fewer, if Sarai hadn't..." He trailed off.<br /><br /> The three of us were silent for a moment, each of us considering the thought of the deaths that can await a sailor in wildspace. Finally, Avenrin spoke up, breaking the silence. "Rolf, who <i>was</i> Sarai? She sounds... important." Rolf looked up from the lamplight, his eyes dark with old grief. "Captain Blake's sister. And my wife." Rin and I stared at him, but neither of us for more than a few seconds. The pain was too much to bear for long. I nodded, though. A lot of things that I had heard over the years were now clearer to me. We all sat in silence, and the rest of the watch crawled by. Finally, I nudged Drune and Tallen, who had the next watch. They shook off the drowse they had been in, and I curled up in my blankets as best I could, and tried to get some sleep.<br /><br /> I was woken by a sharp shake. Rolf had hold of my shoulder, and his face was set in a grimly serious frown. "About to hit the lifewall." I nodded, and shook off sleep as fast as I could. The lifewall was the barrier of winds that marked the edge of the living air of a planet, separating it from the deadness of the void. Crossing over was always a tricky business, and needed all hands at the ready. A ship crossing the lifewall incautiously could find itself tumbled every direction at once, rigging snapped, rudder broken, and probably plummeting toward the planet's surface. I scrambled up. The first thing that hit me was the cold. It was now like a drill, icy teeth cutting into every inch of exposed skin. I started shivering at once. But I knew that the deck would be far worse. I found myself a cloth to cover my face, and hoped that it would be enough to prevent the frozen air from searing my lungs. I headed up the gangway, crew members ahead and behind as all of us headed for the deck to prepare. <br /><br /> I stepped past the makeshift canvas door that had blocked off the open deck from the hold, and hissed in agony. The cold was far worse than I had expected. Now it felt like every inch of exposed skin was being set on fire, a frozen fire that seeped further and further towards my bones every second. I wondered if this was what Egar felt when the voidwight touched him. But I had no time to dwell on the bitter cold. If we ever wanted to feel warm again, we had to move. Before us, the gray-green orb of Verpax hung, already filling half the sky. The captain was already on the forecastle, and as the crew spilled on deck, he began shouting orders. "Raphael, take the helm! Forenoon watch, man the rigging. Take in all sails as soon as you feel the keel touch the wall. Aftnoon watch, you're on liftstones. One man to a stone, and keep your eyes on your squad leader! Night watch, you're on stowage duty, get moving. I want everything battened down yesterday! And make sure every light is out! We don't need a damn fire on top of everything."<br /><br /> I made my way to the helm, and prepared myself. Right now, we were diving towards Verpax, our bow pointed almost dead center at the planet. That was the only practical way to approach a planet. But the lifewall was a barrier of wind, as strong as the strongest gale, that wrapped the planet like the shell of an egg. The winds ran parallel to the surface, mostly, and the only way to get through them was to line ourselves up parallel to the planet's surface and slowly sink through, with our sails furled to prevent them from being torn away as we passed through the winds. We had to descent quickly enough to avoid disaster from the wind, but we didn't dare simply turn off our liftstones and fall. Below the lifewall, there was usually a region of turbulent winds and changeable air, that could easily flip an uncontrolled ship over, leaving everyone on deck falling off towards the planet, still miles below. Crossing the border from a planet's life-giving air into the dead air of the void was always a risky business. No wonder many sailors never tried it, simply flying about in the lower airs of worlds, or else in ships that never left the void, sailing from high port to high port, picking up and dropping off cargoes that others would take to worlds. But the <i>Jewel</i> was a free trader, and we had no such option, if we wanted to stay profitable. <br /><br /> I gripped the helm tightly, and prepared myself. I would be the ultimate arbiter of the liftstones in the stern of the ship, just as the captain would command the liftstones closer to the bow. The two of us had to coordinate perfectly in order to insure a safe entry. I watched the captain stand at the bow, staring out at Verpax, now growing to fill the entire sky in front of us. I held the wheel steady, steering directly towards the equator of the world. As the planet continued to grow in our vision, I watched the captain for the slightest movement. The lifewall was sometimes difficult to spot, and we had to be in position before we entered it. A ship going into the wall at the wrong angle could be ripped in half. Finally, I saw him gesture. He lifted both his hands, his thumbs outstretched, the rest of the fingers balled into fists, and then slowly raised his hands. I lashed the wheel quickly, and duplicated his gesture, except that I lowered my hands instead of raising them. The sailors on the liftstones were quick to follow our command. The captain had indicated for the pair of liftstones nearest the bow to increase their power. I had commanded the pair nearest the back to decrease their power. The difference in pressure began to turn the ship. I saw the bow come up, moving across the face of Verpax, no longer pointing directly at its middle. For seconds, the slow turn continued. Then the captain suddenly extended his pointer fingers as well as his thumbs, and raised his hands again, more quickly. Again, I duplicated his actions, except to lower my hands instead of raise. Now the first two pairs of liftstones at each end of the ship were acting together to turn the ship, and Verpax moved past the bow faster. Finally, the orb of the planet was not in front of us, but below us, still growing, but much more slowly. The captain lowered his hands quickly, and I raised mine. All liftstones were now on the same strength, and our turn was halted. The captain now extended all five fingers, and lowered his hands gently. I copied his motions exactly this time, and the ship began to settle toward Verpax below as all the liftstones eased their struggle against gravity.<br /><br /> It was probably only thirty seconds, but the bitter cold of space that had permeated the atmosphere of the <i>Jewel</i> made it seem like thirty hours. Then there was a sudden vibration that raced through the ship. Immediately, the men in the rigging began to haul away at the sails furiously, working to furl and tie every shroud as firmly as possible. They finished in seconds, and flung themselves down lines and ladders as fast as they could. Being in the rigging while a ship crossed the lifewall was a good way to be blown off. The vibration rose to a grumble, then a roar, and finally a scream. The <i>Jewel</i> was sinking into the winds of the lifewall, and it was shaking with the strain. The winds crested the edge of the deck, and I felt a force like a giant's slap press me against the wheel. All across the deck, I saw crewmembers grab for the nearest solid handhold, and hang on for dear life. Loose ends of ropes were blowing almost straight sideways, and the sails, even furled, were whipping and snapping in the furious gale. I saw, with a shudder, that the spars on the mainmast were starting to bend. If we didn't get through the wall soon...<br /><br /> But we did. At worst, it was a minute after our keel first touched the lifewall that the top of our mast was below the terrible wind. The most dangerous part was over, and I could see faces relaxing all over the deck. But the danger was only lessened, not ended. Almost immediately, we were plunged into a turbulent sea of clouds, and updrafts, downdrafts, and crosswinds began buffeting us. For the next ten minutes, the captain and I danced an intricate ballet with our hands, commanding various liftstones to increase power, decrease power, or simply cut off altogether, trying to compensate for the storm's attempt to toss us about. Finally, the howling of the wind died, and we came out of the bottom of the cloud cover. It was raining here, a steady drizzle that worked its way through our clothes and plastered our hair down to our heads in tangled strands. But I didn't mind. For the first time since the <i>Jewel</i> had touched the lifewall, I had a chance to assess our situation, and I realized that I felt <i>warm</i>. It was still cold, but it was the cold of a rainy day, a living cold, that men could survive in, not the killing cold of the void. The <i>Jewel</i> descended towards the planet, and I sighed with relief. It looked like we would survive, after all. Of course, I realized with regret, we still had to cope with a month of Verpax. I was likely as comfortable now, with my rain-soaked clothes, hair half in my eyes, and muscles trembling with strain and exhaustion, as I would ever be on this god-forsaken world. But the alternative was worse, so I decided to make the best of it for a while.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-66841878163538598252008-11-12T02:34:00.002-06:002008-11-12T02:34:48.116-06:00Placeholder 4Did 2035 words on another piece.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-88597920173115116872008-11-12T01:36:00.002-06:002008-11-12T01:40:50.222-06:00In Nomine Story, Chunk 2(2080 words)<br /><br /> Andrew cycled down the street, heading west down the hill. Behind him, the risen sun was shining its long rays down, illuminating the scene before him. Every piece of glass, every touch of chrome on the parked cars, sent its own little beam of light back at him, dazzling and beautiful. The morning wind blew east, into his face, and his watering eyes added their own touch of dazzle to his sight. Before him, the hill of Otter Street stretched, almost a mile of steady descent. The trees that lined the road still had their leaves, although they were beginning to turn yellow with the fall. It was still early, only 7:30 in the morning, and the street was mostly empty, only a distant dog walker halfway down the hill representing other people.<br /> <br /> Pedaling furiously, Andrew built up a good speed, then settled back and let the bike freewheel. He'd done this route before. Every school day for four months each year for the past three years. Start of September until the first snowfall in late October or early November, then after the snow had melted again, in late April, until the end of school. It was routine. Otter Street was the main route in from Arlington Heights where Andrew lived to the closest part of downtown. Every side street had a stop or yield sign, and drivers were careful around here. Everyone knew there were lots of kids in this neighborhood. Not that Andrew didn't keep an easy hand on his brake, and an eye on the crossroads. Tempting fate was dumb, and he had no desire to wind up a headline.<br /><br /> As he headed down the hill towards the high school that was his destination, Andrew was muttering to himself under his breath. "Fuck, this sucks. How come I have to bike when every other fucking kid in the class has a car by now? Even fucking Brenda, on her <i>third</i> car. And I don't even get one? But no, Dad's all 'I can't just buy you a car, you've got to show you deserve it'. Fuck this." Andrew pedaled another few strokes, more to burn off some anger than to keep up his speed. His thoughts continued to seethe, though. <i>It's just not fair! I do okay in school, I'm smarter than three-quarters of the people there. I know how to drive. So why can't I get a car? It's not like we don't have the money for it. What's the use of Dad having the cash if he isn't going to spend it on me, at least a bit?</i> He kept biking, letting the anger flow through his veins and burn away any other emotions. Anger was better than the gloom that other thoughts gave him. <br /><br /> <i>Like Chris and Ray.</i> And there, with shocking suddenness, the gloom was back. The anger was still there, too, like lava underneath a black crust. But the depression of that thought kept the anger down for now. Every time he thought about it, everything rushed back. That terrible day last January where the whole world went wrong. It had been such a <i>nice</i> day, too. Bright blue sky, just a bit of a breeze, the sun shining on the snowy landscape, making everything shine. And the little MSN cat window on his computer screen, with its horrible little message of doom. "Ray asked me to go out with him! Isn't that /great/!? :-) :-D". Funny how he even remembered the smilies she used. But what he remembered most was the horrible feeling of the world collapsing around his ears. <i>That's it, that's all. It's all over. Why did this happen?</i> And he hadn't found an answer, not then, and not now, nine months later. He wondered if he ever would find one.<br /><br /> He had always thought it would work. He loved Chris. He loved her for years. She had moved into the house across the street when he was in kindergarten. And he had been crazy for her ever since. Brown hair, sometimes short, sometimes long, sometimes styled. Blue eyes, behind glasses until she got contacts, back in junior high. Tomboy right from the start. Always running around. She was always in better shape than Andrew was. She could outrun him, outclimb him, outswim him. And outfight him, although that wasn't hard. Not that he ever started anything, but when you're ten, you show someone you like them by stealing their hat, and running away, and if you do it too many times in a day, they punch you. They hadn't talked to each other for a week after that, and that had been <i>terrible</i>. It lasted until he went up to her house, knocked on her door, and apologized and promised never to do it again. She had hugged him and said it was cool. And he had never done it again. That was all quite a while ago, of course. Chris was still athletic, though. She was on the girls' basketball team, and she was good, too. Vice-captain, this year, and her parents sometimes talked about athletic scholarships. <br /><br /> Andrew didn't care how good she was, though. He just liked to go to the games to watch her. Just seeing her move around the court, sweating and flushed, happy and excited to be winning, or determined to come back from behind, was great. And hanging out with her was always great. She was always laughing, she'd giggle at the slightest provocation. And if you made her giggle enough, she'd start to snort, and <i>that</i> made her laugh harder, and it got worse, and sometimes you could make her spend her entire lunch break laughing too hard to even eat, and then she'd punch you in the arm afterwards, but not hard. And Andrew would dream of the day when he'd just catch her hand before it hit the arm, grab her other hand too, and pull her close, and kiss her, and she'd kiss back, and then he could just <i>hold</i> her, forever...<br /><br /> And he had always thought it would work out, someday. That someday, he'd get up the courage, and ask her. Or <i>she'd</i> ask <i>him</i>. Or she'd find one of his secret notebooks, and ask "Andrew, what you wrote there, is it true?" and then he'd mumble for a bit and then nod shyly and say "Yes", and she'd say "I never realized you thought the same way I did!" and kiss him, and then... And nothing had really stopped the ideas. Chris hadn't dated anyone. A couple people asked her out, but she turned them down, and kept hanging out with Andrew and Ray on weekends, watching movies, or biking around, or doing homework together, or throwing snowballs, or swimming. And he could believe it was because she really wanted to be with him, but couldn't ask him yet.<br /><br /> But that had all broken apart that treacherously bright winter day. Eight years of dreams and fantasies had caught fire and burned as if they were soaked in gasoline, and that damned MSN window was a match being held to them. He'd barely had the strength to write back how great that it was, after a two minute delay. And then sit there in his chair, stunned, while she gushed at him about how great it was, and where the first date was going to be, and wasn't it great that Ray liked her as much as she liked him, and whether she should start looking for a dress for the prom, because this year she'd have a date there! Andrew didn't need to contribute anything at all to keep the stream of happy, bubbly, joyful attacks on his heart coming. Finally, after an hour of just sitting there and just typing in "Cool" and "Okay" and "That's nice" every ten minutes, he begged off. Homework, he had said. No, can't do anything this evening. Got a project I need to work on. Sorry, Chris. Yeah, probably busy tomorrow, too. See you Monday. <br /><br /> And then he had turned off the computer, and sat down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. It hadn't really sunk in at that point. He had stared and stared and stared, until Dad had called him for supper. And then he had gone down, eaten the food mechanically, washed the dishes mechanically, gone back upstairs mechanically, and laid back down on his bed. And then stared at the ceiling some more. Until, all of a sudden, he had just turned over and started to cry. Nothing too dramatic, no sense in having Dad hear it and come in and try to <i>sympathize</i> with him, tell him that it would be alright, or some bullshit like that. Because it wasn't going to be alright, how <i>could</i> it be? Chris didn't love him the way he loved her, she loved Ray. And he had watered the pillow with tears for two hours, until he finally couldn't cry any more. So he went and had a shower, and then went back to his room, and turned the computer on again. He made sure not to let MSN start up, though. He couldn't talk to anyone now. He played computer games that night, violent ones. He didn't usually like that sort of thing. He'd rather write, or sketch, or play the piano. But right then, all those things were too happy, too much like things he'd enjoyed doing with Chris. So he shot imaginary computer enemies, with imaginary lasers, and tried to believe that he was blowing up Ray, and Chris, and everyone in school, and Dad, and everyone in the whole world that had just betrayed him. And he couldn't even do that properly. Every time he pictured Ray's face on the enemy, he got twitchy. Every time he fired a missile at a ship and thought "That's Chris in there!", he started to shake. Every rocket he launched, pretending that the blast would catch Dad, or the dumbasses from school, or anyone <i>real</i>, he got sick. So, eventually, he just pretended nothing, and just lost himself in the challenge of shooting pixels on the screen, secure in the knowledge that they were fake. <br /><br /> The next day, he had taken his secret notebooks out of the shoebox in the closet, and started methodically tearing pages out of them. And then ripping the pages in half. And ripping the halves into quarters. He made a giant heap of confetti on his bed, and then swept it all into the wastebasket, and bagged it up, and hauled it out to the dumpster. Dad had given him a look when he saw him taking out the trash, but Andrew had figured that it was the surprise of seeing him actually take out trash without prompting. And then Andrew had sat in his room for most of the afternoon. He had worked on the homework a little, but gave up after staring at the same equation for fifteen minutes. After supper he had gone back up to his room, and watched Moulin Rouge twice. And then went to bed, and cried himself to sleep. <br /><br /> And that had set the pattern of his days for the past nine months. He'd go out, and do things. He'd go to class, do his chores, his homework. When Chris or Ray wanted to talk, he'd keep the conversation light. How did you do on that test, doesn't the substitute suck, who is Brenda dating this week? He'd hang out with them, sometimes. They'd still watch movies, or go biking. But it was always different. There was a connection between the two of them that he'd never be a part of, and it shut him out. And they never noticed, which was worse. He'd sit on the sofa beside them when they watched something, and shoot glances at them, cuddling and stealing kisses, and feel a scream build up. He'd watch them chatter, or reach out to touch hands while riding the bikes, and he felt like shouting "Hey! Remember me? Your friend? Who, oh yeah, <i>loves</i> you, Chris? What happened to me?" And they never stopped. He found excuses not to hang out with both of them together, after a while. He could still hang out with them alone, but even that was hard. And he kept going through the days wondering how he had lost the game before he had had the chance to play, or even learn the rules.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-69302934148282918742008-11-10T02:47:00.000-06:002008-11-10T02:48:14.233-06:00Placeholder 3Did 2041 words for a Pyramid article.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-34340429686876124002008-11-09T04:42:00.001-06:002008-11-09T04:43:31.695-06:00Spelljammer story, chunk 6(2052 words)<br /><br /> I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, and nodded to her. "Sorry. I'll take it off. Turn around. And remember, I can still gut you if you start whistling." She nodded sharply, and turned her head, lifting her long hair forward over one shoulder, giving me clear access to the clasp of the choker. I reached across the table, and gave the opening command: three quick taps, followed by a fourth a second later. At the same time, though, I was carefully grasping the hilt of my cutlass. Not only as a defense, but also as the other part of the opening charm. The captain was a clever artificer. The wearer of one of these collars simply couldn't take it off themselves. If they tried, they got a jolt of agony down every nerve that got worse the longer they tried. I had been on the receiving end of just one of those jolts, once, and I never wanted to repeat the experience. But even if the wearer got someone else to take it off, the tapping alone was not sufficient. The opener also had to be touching a piece of quartz. Conveniently, I had just such a stone decorating the hilt of my sword. If I hadn't, both her and I would have been subject to one of those jolts. Not a pleasant concept.<br /> <br /> The choker's clasp opened on its own once I had given the appropriate code, and the silencing bond slipped off. I caught it, and laid it on the table, a not-so-subtle threat that she didn't have to be able to talk. The Songmaster eyed the choker, and rubbed her neck where it had chaffed a bit. "Now," I continued. "I was asking your name." She scowled again, and looked like she was considering not telling me anyway, despite the lack of restraint, but then visibly slumped and decided to give in. "Third Chorus Songmaster Haelle Riinal, of the man-o-war Purple Emperor" <br /><br /> I nodded enouragingly. "Now we're getting somewhere. So, Songmaster Riinal. Tell me about the Purple Emperor. Any important details about the complement? Is there any reason they're going to be chasing us down? Or will they just leave you to us while they deal with the orcs?" <br /><br /> She looked up at me, but didn't quite meet my eye. "No reason to follow us. You're safe." I sighed inwardly, then said out loud "I think you're lying to me. Allow me to remind you - we spotted your ship a long way off, even disguised. We can do it again. And if we do spot them, believe me, you and your favorite third officer will be over the side very quickly. Then they can collect you from wildspace." <br /><br /> She snarled at me. "You wouldn't dare! If the Navy was hunting you for us, they'd let you go if you handed us over. If we were killed, they'd hound you to the edge of the Great Void, and not stop until every man aboard this wretched ship was dead!" <br /> <br /> I shook my head. "No chance, Songmaster. I know elves. If you're important enough to chase after, you're important enough to make our survival unlikely after we give you up. If the elves let it be spread about that they let someone big get grabbed, they'd lose a lot of respect, and the Navy can't take that. As you know. So, once again, this time with some truth. Are you important enough to chase?"<br /><br /> Haelle looked me in the eye for a second. Her gaze broke first. She hung her head, and said quietly "The third officer is Troven Liirae. He's the second son of Aatro Liirae." I sighed, out loud this time. That was bad news. Aatro Liirae was the head of the Liirae clan, and a colder merchant prince never walked on a deck. He would sell anyone if the price was right, but, like all elves, he put a very high price on his children. Elves didn't have many, and valued the ones they had more than most planets could pay. He must have put his son into the Navy to make some political hay, but probably arranged for a sinecure - a nice, easy garrison duty. And then Troven and us had fouled it up, Troven by getting captured, and us by capturing him. The captain of the Purple Emperor would move the stars and every world around them to recover him, and I doubted there was far enough we could run. And it would get worse if we killed him. All the considerable resources of one of the great merchant houses would be devoted to tracking us down. <br /><br /> I eyed Songmaster Haelle again, and she nodded, now looking bitterly amused at my obvious dismay. "You might as well surrender now," she suggested. "If you throw yourself on the mercy of the captain, he might be lenient. I hear the firesap mines on Ragnos are looking for more people." I glared at her, and quickly shot back. "Don't be too confident, elf. Remember, we left your precious Purple Emperor with a crippled wing, in a fight with a raven ship. Odds are, your precious captain won't even make it out of that alive, let alone have a chance to come find us. We lay low for a while, then take off, give the four of you deadweights some memory charms, and we get off scott free. Odds are, the Navy won't even realize that you were captured, rather than just blasted out of space with the rest of your crew. Heck, we might not even bother with the memory charms. Much easier to just space you once we're sure the Emperor is flinders and sawdust. No complications there."<br /><br /> I had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen in fear. She knew very well that what I said was correct. The best course of action for the Jewel was to space her and the rest, once we knew pursuit was not in the offing. Memory charms were not always reliable, and the simple fact of their return would provoke suspicion. Luckily for her, the captain and I would not be doing it. I had see too many people die that way, from my early days, to ever be comfortable doing it to someone, no matter how bad an enemy. And Captain Blake had reasons of his own. So Haelle was safe. Not that I intended to let her know. She could sweat.<br /><br /> "Well, we won't drop you just yet. We've got a few weeks to wait, after all. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll love our new accomodations. I know how much elves like mud, and really terrible fish. I hope you thought to bring a raincoat along on that flitter, though. It may be damp." She wrinkled her nose in disgust at my description. "Don't tell me. Your bolthole is Verpax." I smiled and nodded, and felt a delicious feeling of schadenfreude as that pinched line appeared between her eyes again. "Oh, I see you've heard of our little vacation spot. Well, don't worry. You'll have a very good chance to get to know it and love it." I stood, and gestured her up as well. "That's all I need right now. Time to go back to your room, Songmaster. Thank you for being so cooperative." She glowered at me, but stood and turned for the door. I held up a hand. "First, your little accessory. Can't be forgetting that." Haelle sighed, but didn't protest. She shifted her hair to the side again, and I picked up the choker again, deftly slipping it in place and clipping it closed. It needed no special signal to put on, and the silence immediately took effect. Even her breathing was quieted.<br /><br /> I gestured ahead of me, and she marched out. I lead her back to the other stateroom, and Rolf unlocked the door and waved her inside. She returned to her chair in the corner, took a seat, and faced us again. I smiled and waved, and she shot me an obscene hand gesture. I chuckled, and motioned to Rolf to shut the door again. "Didn't think nice elves knew signs like that," I commented, as he turned the key in the lock. He grunted, but didn't offer a reply. I turned to leave, and was walking up the gangway, when he suddenly spoke up. "Rafael." I looked over my shoulder to see what he wanted. "Don't fall for her. Nothing but trouble." I grumbled back "I don'f fall in love with everything with a pretty face, Rolf." His only reply was an eloquently raised eyebrow. I snorted, and turned back on my original course, mumbling to myself. I don't fall for everything. Just because of that one in Starfall. Well, and the widow in Skallport. Oh, alright, and those damned twins on the Rock, with the red hair... Oh, and that gypsy halfling, in Warspace. But not everything, dammit!<br /><br /> The next few hours were a slowly freezing hell. Everyone wrapped up as warmly as possible, but the cold was everywhere. By the fourth hour on our new heading, our breath was frosting in the air, and exposed flesh chilled quickly. By the sixth hour, the crew was dressed in every scrap of clothing they could find, desperate to shut out the cold Every minute was a step in our descent into a freezing hell. The open deck was avoided at all costs. Everyone who could, was gathered around our limited sources of heat. Oil lanterns, candles, the cookstove - all were pressed into service as much as possible. We covered ever entry into the ship we could with sailcloth. We had lashed the wheel and set the sails, and the only ones who ventured out were sent to check that nothing had gone wrong in our absence. Everyone else huddled closely together, and did their best to stay warm. At first, there was the chatter, songs and stories that usually filled the idle hours of sailors. By the tenth hour of our freezing voyage, though, silence reigned through the ship. The crew was devoting all their energy simply to keeping warm, shivering around our small heat sources. Slowly, the cold encroached on the lit areas of the ship, and our groups gathered ever tighter together. The silence was filled with the groans and cracks of timbers that had rarely been cooler than a cold ocean now straining to handle the fierce temperature.<br /><br /> At the start of our chilly voyage, I had patrolled the ship, keeping warm with activity. I went from group to group, trying to encourage everyone, reminding them that the captain had never yet been wrong when it came to this sort of gamble. I sang a few songs, had a drink or two with some of the larger groups, checked to make sure that the fuel was being rationed appropriately. At one point, I took a peek on deck, just to see how things were going. As I moved the sailcloth covering the hatchway, the bite of icy air almost stole my breath. I looked outside, but I couldn't stay long. My eyes felt like they were trying to freeze in my skull, and my lungs like I was trying to breathe icy fire. Seeing all in order, I quickly shut the door again, and returned to my patrol. Eventually, when it became too cold to move about, I ended up with Rolf and a few of the other halflings in the crew, outside the prisoner's stateroom. The prisoners had been given an oil lantern, enough oil for the time we expected, and several heavy furs. I had seen Haelle look disgusted by the furs - they were old, and they came from Andrast yaks, not the most pleasant-smelling beasts in the best of times. But she still took full advantage of their warmth once the cold began to bite, and I couldn't fault her practicality. Troven had still not woken up, and I wondered briefly if the cold would save us the trouble of deciding what to do with him. But the rest of his party had him well bundled up, as close to the lantern as was safe. He's probably survive, I decided, and left to join Rolf and the others.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-45950406568984843602008-11-08T02:46:00.001-06:002008-11-08T02:46:54.234-06:00Spelljammer story, chunk 5(2058 words)<br /><br /> Behind us, I watched the raven ship. I could see orcs swarming out along the wing, beating out the fire with canvas and water. The man-o-war was moving as well, slowly shifting its flexible leaf wings to catch the wind. It was moving on the same course as us, but I knew that they'd never catch us up with the damage they had taken. The captain turned to me and grinned. “Looks like we're well clear, Raphael. All's well that end's well, hey?” He turned to touch the wood of the wheel, to ward off bad luck. He was a little late.<br /><br /> From the man-o-war, there was a flash. A cannonball, glowing bright blue, streaked toward us. Before any of us could do more than blink, it crashed along the deck of the Jewel and hit the wall of the forecastle. There was a bright flash from inside the hole the ball had left, and the captain and I paled as we felt a cold breeze suddenly wash over us. “Report, Raphael! And tell me it isn't what I think!” I nodded, and sprinted up the deck. I peered in the hole in the forecastle, and groaned. The worst had, indeed, happened. The cannonball, its force and magic spent, was lying next to a small podium in the room. On the podium was a large, faceted crystal, about four inches across. It should have been glowing a healthy yellow, like the summer sun. Instead, it was dark and grey. I shivered. The sunstone didn't look broken, but the elven shot, guided by fate, or, more likely, the magic of the ship's mage, had dispelled the sunstone's stored power. And without that, the Jewel had perhaps a day before it froze in the cold of wildspace. <br /><br /> I headed back to the wheel. The captain didn't need to ask. My face was enough. “They got it, captain.” He grimaced, then asked “Is the stone cracked?” I shook my head. “It looked intact.”<br /><br /> “Then we have a chance.” The captain set his face in concentration. “If I remember the charts right... Take the wheel, Raphael. I need to check.” I nodded, and took his place. If the captain thought we had a shot, then we might survive yet. He was the best navigator I'd ever sailed with, and he could calculate courses in his sleep. I held our course steady, and waited, fighting against hope and despair both. The crew settled down to their tasks, but everyone kept one eye on the door to the captain's cabin.<br /><br /> An hour later, Captain Blake emerged. His expression was mixed – more hopeful than it had been, but with a crease of worry between his eyes. He came up to the helm, and I raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “Good news and bad news, Raphael. The good news is, there's a planet we can make it to in maybe eighteen hours, maybe a little more. The bad news is, its Verpax.” <br /><br /> I groaned and slumped. Verpax was a miserable place to be stranded. It was a small world on the outer edge of Redoak's system, far from the central fire of the sun. That made it cold. It wasn't quite far enough away to be a winter world. It was also wetter than a dwarf smith's back, covered by mist, fog, and rain. Every bit of surface that wasn't covered by icy sea was cold swamp. The continents were basically mudbanks, only barely above the level of the ocean. And ocean and swamp were both inhabited by as nasty a group of man-eating critters as ever came out of some mad creator god's fevered dreams. I had spent a day on Verpax, a decade ago, hiding from another elven patrol. I had been frost-, bug-, and demoncat-bitten, and then I had come down with a nasty swamp rot that And now I had a month, or more, to look forward to there. “Any port in a storm, I guess. But it's a miserably bad port, Cap'n.”<br /><br /> He nodded. “I've heard your stories. But it's all we've got. Better there than freezing to death. Here's the course, hold her steady.” He gave me the coordinates, and I set the wheel, then slouched against it in a black funk. Our ship was damaged, we had tweaked the nose of both elves and orcs, and we now had a month of leave on the worst planet I knew. I wondered what else could go wrong.<br /><br /> Within a couple hours, we had begun feeling the loss of the sunstone. The air was growing colder, and everyone put on warmer clothes, the halflings condescending to wear vests over their normally bare chests. Rudy spelled me at the helm, and I did a quick inspection of the ship, and ducked into my quarters to grab a thick sweater. Then I headed belowdecks, to check on our prisoners.<br /><br /> It was rather warmer down there, the heavy wood of the hull providing some insulation against the bitter cold of space. Nonetheless, it was still chilly. I headed down the stairs and strolled along the gangway to the port stateroom, where we had set up a temporary brig. Rolf was standing guard outside; he nodded curtly to me, and twisted his head to indicate the prisoners inside the room. "Said nothing." <br /> <br /> "Well, maybe I can get a little out of them." I said mildly. Rolf merely grimaced, his expression clearly saying that he doubted it. He got out the key anyway, though, and unlocked the stateroom door. I did a quick scan of the room, checking that all three of the Navy personnel were in view, and not trying anything. I had a moment of surprise, then. There were four people inside. The Songmaster was sitting on a chair in the corner of the stateroom, watching the door. The two marines were sitting wearily against the wall, the one with his wounded arm in a sling. And the fourth was lying on the bed, apparently unconscious. I took a closer look, and my surprise turned into shock. It was the third officer! Apparently, he had survived the flitter's crash into the Jewel. I scowled, and made a note to complain about not being informed. This was important. <br /><br /> But that could wait. For now, I wanted to see if I could get some information out of the rest of them, before their commander woke up and started giving them orders. I watched the room for a bit longer, keeping an eye on the Songmaster. While she didn't move, I could tell she was watching me in turn. Her eyes blazed with anger, and her face was set in tight lines. Clearly, she was not pleased with me, her situation, or much of anything else. However, a few seconds of watching convinced me that this was her, and no illusion. She reacted too quickly to any movements I made, and her eyes tracked me perfectly. An illusion would almost certainly not be able to do that so well, even with its controller in the same room. The difference in perspective made perfection almost impossible. So, that meant that really was her sitting in the chair and glaring daggers at me, rather than a figment meant to distract me while the real Songmaster waited invisibly in ambush. Good enough.<br /> <br /> I gestured with one hand at her. "Get up. I'm going to ask you some questions. Come along." I waited by the door, with my hand on my cutlass. "And I'm warning you. If you so much as whistle a note, I can cut your throat. So let's have no serenades." Her eyes grew even harder. If she could have burned me with the force of will alone, I would be a shadow on the wall. But she couldn't, so she did the only thing she could: get up, and head for the door, watching me and my sword arm closely the whole time. She didn't say a word, but she fell into place in front of me without needing a prompt. I gestured back along the gangway towards the stairs to the upper deck. "That way. First door on your right." To Rolf, I said "I'll just question her in the starboard stateroom. Lock the room up again. And keep your ears open for trouble."<br /><br /> The Songmaster marched, still in stony silence. At the door I had indicated, she hesitated, then nodded once when I said "Go in". She opened the door, went in, and I followed closely, still with my hand on my sword. Once inside, I closed the door, and then indicated one of the chairs by the small table. "Sit down. Hands where I can see them, please." The elf woman walked over to the chair, and sat. I took the opportunity to admire her again. She was very easy on the eyes, and now that she wasn't in a position to kill me, it was easier to appreciate it. Her walk was graceful - none of the seductive sway of a seductress, but the quick grace of a dancer. Or a warrior. No wasted motion. And she filled out her uniform very well, I had to admit. Curvier than the average elf, by a fair margin. <br /> <br /> As she pulled out the chair, turned, and sat, her eyes met mine. She caught my gaze, and for a second looked confused rather than angry. Then comprehension dawned in her eyes, and the anger returned with extra force. A pinched line was now in evidence between her eyes, and I her hands clenched on the table in front of her. Her eyes, now that I had a chance to examine them closely, were an intriguing gold color. It wasn't a shade I had ever seen in an elf, and it just added to her overall look of exotic beauty. <br /><br /> But this sort of speculation wasn't getting me anywhere, and I doubted I would have much luck pursuing the ideas with her. Instead, I decided to get down to business. "So. I want to ask you some questions. If you're helpful, you can insure that your stay here is reasonably comfortable, and we'll put you off in a port where you can get back to the Navy without too much inconvenience. Let's start simple. What's your name?"<br /> <br /> The Songmaster remained silent. She tilted her head, and the look of anger did not fade. I sighed. I hadn't expected it to be easy, but it would have been nice. "Very well. If you don't cooperate, we can make life a lot less pleasant than it is. For one thing, you don't have to be kept in a stateroom. We have some perfectly serviceable bilges, if you'd prefer to stay there. Now, again, what's your name?" Still she kept quiet, though her expression had deepened to pure rage when I mentioned the bilges. "Well, what will it take? Things don't have to get unpleasant just for us, you know. The officer is not much use to us, frankly. Even if he wakes up, I'd say he's too full of himself to ever make himself useful. There's really no need for him to ever wake up at all. And we'd gain by losing the weight. Do you want that to happen?"<br /><br /> Her face was now a mask of incandescent fury. She shook her head once, sharply, at my question, but was still silent. Now I began to realize that something was odd. She hadn't only been refusing to talk, I hadn't heard even one sound out of her since the beginning. I eyed her. "Can't you speak?" The elf's face now lost some of the anger, but now she looked contemptuous. She shook her head, and lifted her chin, tapping a significant finger against a green choker with a clear crystal in the center. I realized I hadn't seen her wear it before, and then realized where I had seen it - it was another trick of the captain's, a silencing collar. A smart move, on his part. Most mages would be hampered by the collar, but not rendered useless, unless they were such novices as to be unable to cast any spells with only gestures. But the Songmaster, limited as she was by the need to make music to work her magic, was completely helpless.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1004562909948342792008-11-07T03:12:00.002-06:002008-11-07T03:15:59.221-06:00In Nomine Story, chunk 1(1024 words)<br /><br />From the Diary of Andrew Oleson<br />Monday, September 15th, 2008<br /><br />Well, it looks like school is going to suck again this year. I got beat up for the third time this year. Not too hard, really. Just a couple bruises, and I ended up with a big ketchup stain on my new jeans where they stuffed me in the trash can. Stupid ketchup. The can was empty, why the <i>fuck</i> did there have to be ketchup in there. <br />Anyway, Ray and Chris got me out in a couple minutes. Which made the whole day worse, you know? Chris looked at me all pity-eyes, and grabbed me a towel from the bathroom to clean up. And Ray offered to track them down and beat them up, again. And I told him no, again. I don't know why I keep telling him no. And why I don't fight back. Ray keeps telling me "If you punched back, they'd back off". But I can't. It just feels icky. I guess I'm just too much of a softie. Or a coward.<br />And then the day got a lot worse. After they made sure I was alright, Chris and Ray went back to what they were doing before I interrupted. Fucking kissing. Again. They've been at it every day, every minute they can, since school started. I guess after Chris went off to Montana for the summer, they missed each other. You'd think they'd been dating forever instead of for nine months. And, of course, they're so wrapped up in each other that they don't even notice me. I walked out of there after I finished cleaning up, anyway.<br />Just because they're oblivious doesn't mean I'm going to sulk about it. Being all emo about it would be even more pathetic. "Hey, guys, look at me! I'm the loser you're ignoring! Stop ignoring me to laugh for a while." Yeah, that'll work great. Fuck anyway.<br />So after that, I went to English class. Which is a fucking joke, too. It's King Lear this year, for Shakespeare. Don't get me wrong. Nothing wrong with Shakespeare. Guy knew how to write a sentence. But the teacher can't teach it. He's all "Let's read five lines, and then explore my personal theories about the deep fucking meaning of them." Jesus. You can tell he's a failed author. He decided that if he couldn't write, he'd become a critic, and pick apart the thoughts of everybody who could. And when he couldn't make it even as <i>that</i>, he went to teach highschool.<br />So, anyway, we sat there for a retarded hour reading, like, half of one scene, and you can tell everybody's bored as an abortion doctor in Salt Lake City. Of course, nine tenths of the class are so deeply stupid that they wouldn't get it if Kenneth Brannagh and Judi Dench came into the classroom and performed the scene right in front of their eyes. But even the three smart people in the class were bored. <br />After English we had math. That was boring, but of course it was fucking boring. If it wasn't boring, it wouldn't be math. <br />Then we had lunch. Which I had to fight to keep down, because Ray and Chris were right in front of me, kissing, again. I dealt, though. Not like they'd notice if I threw up my internal organs, anyway. Good thing the cafeteria food is better this year. No more mystery meat, and they have vegetables besides ketchup, too.<br />Then I had study hall. Which was okay. Nothing much to say about study hall. You sit there, you finish your homework in ten minutes, then you write for forty minutes. Or, if you're one of the dumb fucks, you sit there, you try to figure out how to hold a pencil for ten minutes, then you try to remember how to write for forty minutes, then the bell rings and saves you from a mental meltdown. Too bad for me.<br />Then it was art class, which was pretty good. The new art teacher knows his shit. We're doing pencil sketches this week, and he gave me some good tips. Not as good as Mom, but, hey. He's here, and Mom's not, and I'll take the help. He even managed to get Tony "The Shaved Gorilla" Aspen to produce a sketch that was recognizable as a human being. I guess he can do miracles.<br />Then it was science class, which was okay. We've got a new science teacher too, and he's kinda cool. Kept going on about how much <i>fun</i> science could be. Nobody was paying much attention, until he blew up a test tube. Not fucking kidding. He was just talking along, people weren't paying attention, then he suddenly shouts "Watch this!" and grabs the tube from the experiment thing with electrodes and water and shit where it was set up, and holds it upside down over a burner. Then just <I><b>BANG</i></b> and suddenly there's glass all over the front of the room, and he's laughing his ass off, and Tony is fucking shouting about how his face hurts. Turns out he got a splinter of glass in his cheek, or something. That was fucking funny as hell. Tony was bitching about how his dad would sue the school or some shit. Then Mr. Merah takes him aside for a second, and after that he's real calm. So that class was okay.<br />Then it was time to go home. Ray said he could give me a ride, but I said it was cool, since I rode my bike today. Not that he cared, since that means he and Chris can make out on the way home all they like.<br />Fuck this bullshit. Ray's been my best fucking friend since grade five, and Chris has been my neighbor for ever. So why do I feel so fucking ratched about them hooking up? This is stupid. This is so <i>fucking stupid</i>. It makes me want to <i><b>SCREAM</i></b>. Why the <i><b>FUCK</i></b> does she love him and not me. I'm right here, Chris. Why the fuck can't you see me? Dammit. This day sucks balls.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-70349742602965108662008-11-07T02:34:00.001-06:002008-11-07T02:34:34.858-06:00Spelljammer story, Chunk 4(2619 words)<br /><br /> Even as I realized how dark my situation with the Songmaster had just become, I heard a shout of warning from behind me. Instinctively, I ducked. Just in time, as a cutlass whirled over my head. One of the marines had gotten free of the melee long enough to try a swing at my head. Luckily, the crew were watching out for me. I glanced about quickly, trying to assess the situation. The five surviving marines were still grouped together, trying to stay in their circle and prevent the crew from getting behind them, and not incidentally, protecting the Songmaster. They were devoting most of their attention to the Jewel men in front of them, but they were clearly keeping half an eye on me, and I knew that if I turned to attack one, the elf bitch would use the opening to gut me - not a prospect I relished. <br /> As I scanned the combatants, I realized that the fight could be iffy. All the marines were now at least slightly bloodied, but none were showing signs of slowing, and several of our men now sported wounds as well. One halfling had fallen back entirely, and was cradling a wound to the arm that looked very deep. Then, just as I glanced back towards the bow of the ship, and the Songmaster, ready to defend myself against her, I heard another pistol crack. There was a nasty whizzing noise and a sharp gust of wind, and I felt a slight tug from my hair on the right side of my head. Behind me, a marine gave a choked cry, and I felt him fall. Jonis, the human who had been fighting him, took advantage of his collapse and the surprise of the marine to his side to step in and land a solid blow to the standing marine's ribs. I heard them crunch, and the marine was down on one knee, wheezing. And now the crew of the Jewel was rushing, pushing the marines back and away from the flitter, and breaking their circle. <br /> I was too busy shuddering at the closeness of my shave to care much, though. I raised a hand to my head, and felt a ragged place where hair had been sheared away. I looked up and glared at Captain Blake, still holding his smoking pistol. He tossed it away, gave me a grin in response, and drew his rapier, charging down the deck. I returned my attention to my own fight, resolving to have a sharp word with the captain in private, later. Marksman he might be, but there was such a thing as overconfidence.<br /> A fact I was quickly reminded of myself, as my momentary distraction almost got me a sword in the eye. I parried desperately again, taking a step back to open the distance a bit. The blurred form of the elf followed me, and I heard a low chuckle. In other circumstances, it would have been appealing. Given the subject matter, though, I found it hard to appreciate. I snarled "What's so funny? In a minute or two, you'll be dead. Even if you get me, there's still a lot of us left. And we're not about to let you get to your flitter.<br /> From out of the blur where I figured her face to be, I heard her response. "I'm laughing because you're concentrating on preventing the wrong people escaping. And you might want to check the status of our ship again."<br /> I twisted my head to look backwards, and groaned. The flitter had just started to move, and both Rudy and Olaf were simply staring at it in shock. The damned third officer must have gotten past them with all the noise, and now was trying to lift the flitter off and escape to the man-o-war. My heart sank. If the third officer returned to the elven vessel, he would be able to report our names and faces to the elven command all too easily. The name of the ship didn't matter - the Jewel had had three names in as many months - but if the Navy knew who we all were, we'd never be able to do business in elven space again. If we escaped it with our lives, that is. <br /> And another slash from the infernal elf woman's cutlass was coming at my face! She had taken advantage of my distraction again, and was pressing her attack. I parried desperately, retreating across the deck, as behind me I saw the flitter give an almost alive shiver and move silently out into the void. Behind the Songmaster, I could see the other three marines in trouble, with two crew members apiece fighting each one, the captain's rapier stabbing precisely, and no hope of escape. But no matter who won any of the fights on the deck, we had already lost.<br /> And then our salvation appeared, in a shape very difficult to distinguish from doom. Between the Jewel of the Stars and the man-o-war, space rippled and shimmered, and seemed to peel back from an elegant, deadly form. As suddenly as an uncovered lantern, a great raven was hovering in space. It was smaller than either the man-o-war or us, but I realized it didn't matter. Small it might be, but it had the drop on us, and that was what mattered now. Even as I thought it, the raven's sides seemed to explode with bright flashes, as it opened up with both broadsides on the ships bracketing us. <br /> I flung myself to the deck, and I could see the blur of the Songmaster doing the same next to me. The Jewel shuddered and rocked, and I felt wood splinters hit my head and hands. I looked up just in time to see the flitter struck in its port wing. The cannonball simply ripped the fragile cloth and wood of the wing clean off, and carried it over our deck, out into the void on the other side of the ship. The flitter banked sharply portwise, any chance of steering it gone with the loss of its wing. It heaved over, and crashed into the stern of the Jewel, half on its side. I suddenly realized that we had a chance, although it was a slim one at best.<br /> I scrambled to my feet, and something caught my eye. A cutlass was lying only a yard away, just beyond the blur that was the Songmaster. In one quick step, I reached it, and kicked the hilt. I connected cleanly, and it sailed up and over the side of the ship. There was a shout of rage from the elf, and the blur quickly became vertical as well. But now I had a much better chance. Without her cutlass, the elf could not threaten me nearly as effectively, even if I couldn't see her. And behind her, I saw something that could end the fight in a moment. I lunged forward, bringing my blade down in a sweep aimed at her middle. As expected, I didn't connect. But she moved back a pace, obviously wanting to keep out of my way. I advanced with her, sweeping my blade back and forth. She continued to retreat. After five steps, I made my move. I suddenly lunged, aiming a straight thrust directly at where I guessed her heart was. She jumped back even more quickly, trying to avoid the reach of the cutlass. And suddenly she found her feet falling out from beneath her, as they became tangled in the net spread across the deck. She hit the boards with a thud, and I shouted "Now!".<br /> Olaf and Rudy darted forward, dragging the edges of the net. They had snapped out of their surprise from the escape of the flitter, and had quickly realized what I was doing when I started herding the Songmaster backwards. In a trice, they had twisted the folds of the net around the elf woman, and tied the ropes at the corners off on some of the ever-present belaying pins. I nodded quick thanks to the halfings, left the elf cursing in the net, and sprinted towards the bow.<br /> The fight with the marines was just ending. One had sank to his knees, blood gushing from a vicious wound to his side where a boathook had penetrated. I could see the white of bone poking out of the hole, and knew that the hook had caught a rib. I gave him bad odds of survival. That sort of wound is touchy even with someone who knows some magical healing, and we didn't have anyone like that on board. Nor time to give it, even if we did. The second marine was sitting with his back against the wall of the poop deck, a dazed look in his eyes, blood trickling down his face from a nasty bash on his forehead, and two halflings standing above him with belaying pins in hand. The third had been backed to the rail of the ship, and now he carefully dropped his cutlass and raised his arms in surrender, the captain's rapier pricking his throat. <br /> As I sprinted up, the captain was already shouting orders. "Tie those two up. Pitch the third over the side. Two of you, stand guard! The rest, get on the rigging! We have to get out of here!" The crew scattered, and the captain charged up the stairs to the wheel. I followed after, and began scanning the sky. The raven ship was moving up. Sensibly, it's crew didn't want to stay between two warships who might be able to return its broadsides, once their gunners got to work. The raven ship moved with a grace and smoothness. Unlike a man-o-war, this grace had an... austere quality to it. Elven ships looked like works of art, graceful dancers through the sky. The raven ship, like all orc vessels, had a grace that had nothing to do with art. It was the pure deadly purpose of a skilled swordsman. The man-o-war danced through the sky, but the raven ship sliced through it, like the killing stroke of a sword. <br /> I knew, in a fair fight, that any one of the ships in the sky right now might be able to defeat the other. But the fight was not fair any longer. The man-o-war was crippled - our fire had seen to that. And the Jewel had just taken damage. How much, I had to assess. Whereas the raven ship was fresh, and unwounded. And on our best day, we weren't faster than it. I gave a heartfelt little groan, and the captain nodded at the sound. "Looks like you're going to have to use our little secret here, Raphael. Pity. We were close. Well, Fate takes no moves back. Better get ready." I nodded, and began to prepare myself. This would be dangerous.<br /> I quickly pulled some red chalk out of my belt pouch. I always kept it handy, just in case I needed to do this in a hurry. I traced out a circle on the deck, about three yards wide, well out of the way of the path of anyone who would have to cross the deck in a hurry. Once the circle was done, I began a low chant, drawing in certain sigils at significant points on the edge of the circle. As I chanted and drew, I could feel the tension in the air begin to sing. This magic was different than my usual path. I could feel no energy departing me. Instead, senses that had nothing to do with the traditional five began to whisper to me, telling me that someplace else was now getting a lot closer. Energy began to gather, and I felt like a man sitting beside an aqueduct, hearing the rumble of the water, separated from him only by a wall of stone.<br /> I finished the last diagram, and stood. Ten seconds, maybe, had passed since I had begun. I spoke the last word, sharply, and suddenly the power was there. Energy came from elsewhere, and my spell changed it into flame. Within my cupped hand, a spark ignited, and swiftly grew into a glowing orb of flame. I smiled tightly, but I couldn't celebrate yet. I focused on the fire, and fed more energy into it. The ball grew only slightly larger, but much brighter, from the warm red of a campfire to the bright white at the heart of a forge. When I had fed as much energy as I could into the spell, I looked about me for my target. <br /> The raven ship had now pulled well ahead of both the Jewel and the man-o-war, and it was beginning to turn, one wing dipping as it banked, almost like a real bird. If I hadn't known about the savage horde of orcs on board, no doubt itching to slit our throats and steal everything of value in the ship, it might almost have been beautiful. As it was, I kept my eyes locked on its starboard wing, and waited. I had to get this right. The raven ship swooped back toward us, and I saw that I had guessed right. The raven was headed back for us. It meant to come in along our starboard side this time, no doubt ready to unload another broadside into us and cripple the Jewel completely. Well, I didn't intend to give them the chance. I held my eye on the broad flat of the raven ship's wing, and aimed carefully. I had all the time in the world, and there was no sense in rushing things. <br /> The raven ship was almost directly to starboard of us when I acted. It had come in close, only fifty yards off our beam. I could see orcs lining the railings, vicious sabers ready to hand, and orcish cannoneers waiting only the command to fire. Well, I was going first. I hurled the ball of fire, at the last moment allowing another rush of energy loose to guide it to its destination. The ball streaked out, and struck the broad wing of the raven ship. There was a flash, and I could hear the shouts of the orcs as they realized what had happened. But it was too late. Already, the flames had caught on the black feathers that covered the bamboo framework of the raven ship's wing, and the blaze was going nicely. They probably had spells on the ship to protect it from ordinary flame, but my fire was as magical as it came.<br /> All along the side of the raven ship, there was a series of flashes. I realized that someone on board must have given the command to fire, and the cannons had let loose. Down our deck, I saw railings go splintering, barrels explode, and, far more horribly, two humans who had not been able to dodge were simply cut in half by the vicious lead balls. But the result could have been far worse. My fire must have caused the raven ship to tilt slightly, throwing the aim of its cannons off. Balls meant for our hull had gone harmlessly over our deck, and none had hit anything crucial even there - our mast was intact, our rigging still functional. <br /> The captain was shouting orders again. Men tugged at the lines, and the Jewel's sails began to come unfurled. As each sail dropped into place and was tightened with quick pulls of the ropes, they began to billow in the spellwind. The Jewel was underway, and making more time with every passing second.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-70571623972961335632008-11-06T04:55:00.001-06:002008-11-06T04:56:18.565-06:00Placeholder 2Damn, only wrote 357 words today (on that Pyramid article again). I'll make up the difference tomorrow.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-32200482486893900592008-11-05T01:43:00.001-06:002008-11-05T01:44:28.644-06:00Placeholder 1Did 2073 words on a Pyramid article.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-73964992848417637452008-11-04T01:04:00.000-06:002008-11-04T01:05:07.776-06:00Spelljammer Story Chunk 3(2043 words)<br /><br /> My little party charged down the deck, and spun to face the battle again in front of the flitter. The fight had entered a stalemate. The remaining eight members of our crew were holding back in a rough circle around the elves. Every couple seconds, the lieutenant would dart forward and try to make a slash or stab at one of us, but everyone managed to dodge or parry before the blow could land. The other marines continued to surround the Songmaster, who had started playing a new tune – something I would have called a jaunty dance number if the circumstances had been different. I knew I had to get to her, stop her from making magic, soon, or the tide could turn even further in their favor. Well, I had magic of my own. <br /> I kept my sword ready on guard, but I stepped back behind Rudy and Olaf, the two halflings I had picked up. They knew to defend me while I was casting. I began a quiet chant, and gestured with my free hand. I spoke the words for power, and formed my hand into the contorted sign for mist. It was tricky to do one-handed, and I had to concentrate. My fingers don't bend that way very easily. But I pulled it off, and spoke the final syllable that set the spell in motion. My energy drained away, but I was pleased to see the spell had worked – mist was rising from a circle a couple yards wide, right by the entrance to the flitter. I couldn't dispel the invisibility, but I could make it less effective.<br /> And not a moment too soon. Just as the mist had thickened into a dense fog, I saw the edge begin to swirl, exactly as if some unseen figure was moving through it. I shouted "There!" at the same moment I lunged with my cutlass. I couldn't try anything fancy, not with no clear target, so my attack was straightforward and easily avoided. The mist swirled again, and I heard the officer curse. Olaf and Rudy made swings at the mist just after me, but it was too late, the elf had clearly retreated back out of the dangerously revealing fog. <br /> Stalemate again. The Naval officer would probably not risk entering the fog again, but we couldn't leave the flitter to find him. The halflings and I kept our weapons ready, and waited for things to change. That didn't take long. There was the crack of pistols firing, the shots so nearly simultaneous that it was hard to tell if there had been one or two discharges. The marine lieutenant was suddenly not standing, but lying full-length on the deck, and a bloody hole had suddenly opened between his eyes. All eyes on deck turned towards the stairs to the poop-deck, where the captain was standing, a smoking pistol in each hand and a dark smile on his face. <br /> I smiled myself. The captain was up to his usual tricks. That particular one was one of his "ignore me, not important" charms. Very useful in a fight, where someone you had forgotten about could very easily kill you. Even I had forgotten about the captain after he had shot the marines and retreated. No doubt he had been carefully aiming and waiting for his perfect shot ever since. And now that he had taken it, the odds were considerably more in our favor. The ring of crew members closed in around the marines and the Songmaster, and a low growl of anticipation was audible from the men of the Jewel. <br /> At that moment, the deck shifted again, as the portside liftstones returned to full power, stopping the slow roll that we had been in since the beginning of the battle. At the same instant, we heard the muffled explosion of cannon fire from below our deck – four blasts first, followed a second later by several more. Again, the battle paused, as all on deck watched the man-o-war, waiting to see what would happen. <br /> The first four balls glowed slightly, making their flight easy to see against the blackness of space. Two of them veered, going off course and sailing harmlessly into the void. But the other two flared as they approached the man-o-war's wing, the light that surrounded them spreading out ahead to overlay the man-o-war briefly. The light faded, but I knew it had had an effect, for the two balls, and the eight immediately following them, smashed into the wing unhindered. Most of the balls merely clipped the wing, breaking off chunks near the edge, or punching holes in unimportant areas. But two of the cannonballs punched through the wing where it narrowed to join the body, and cracks spread to connect the two holes. <br /> I felt like cheering. Now we had a chance. I knew the man-o-war was now in serious trouble. A wound like dangerously weakened the wing. If the ship tried to do any hard maneuvering, or even caught too strong of a spellwind, the wing could very well break off entirely. The Jewel of the Stars could outrun her now. We just had to get underway. But to do that... I turned back to the battle on our deck.<br /> The Songmaster completed the song she had been playing, and shouted a command to the marines, something in elven that I didn't catch. The marines began moving towards the flitter, keeping together around the Songmaster. Our crew barred the way, but each time one of them moved to attack the marines, the Songmaster blew a sharp note on her flute, and the human or halfing suddenly paused, frozen in place by her magic. This was bad – the marines would be at the hatch to the flitter soon, and myself and two halflings couldn't hold the way against five marines and a spellcaster. <br /> But perhaps the unexpected would turn the tide. "Stay here," I called to the two halflings, and moved forward myself, cutlass raised. I quickly closed the distance to the nearest marine, now only eight yards away. I made a slash at his arm, and, as expected, the Songmaster blew another note on her flute. For a second, my mind was filled with a fast dance song, its quick notes threatening to overwhelm all my purposes and plans. But I was more used to dealing with magic than most of the crew of the Jewel, and I knew a trick or two to resit its effects. Before the insidious music took full command of my brain, I focused my eyes on the bright turquoise of the captain's pants, across the deck from me. Everything else faded into the fog of the spell, but I concentrated on keeping that bright spot of color before my eyes. It wavered momentarily, but I held on, and suddenly the music in my head stopped, its force spent. <br />`I carefully left my face blank, though, and pretended to freeze, the way the other crew had when struck by the spell. The marine I had been attacking raised his cutlass, ready to cut me down – and I suddenly ducked beneath his blow and darted forward between him and the marine to his left. Suddenly, I was inside the ring of marines, and right next to the Songmaster. I brought the hilt of my cutlass up in a punch towards her face, and she flinched backward. At the last second, I pulled the punch, down and backwards, and instead of hitting her square in the nose, the bottom edge of my cutlass caught her flute, and pulled it from her hands. It dropped to the deck with a clatter, and I kicked it out of the ring. <br /> The two marines I had ducked between were spinning to deal with me, and the Songmaster hadn't even paused for breath – her cutlass was already in hand, and coming up for a cut at my throat. Both marines swiped at my back. I was able to twist out of the way of one, but the other was in my blind spot, and I couldn't even try to dodge. The blade struck my back, and I grunted. It was a solid hit - the marine had muscle, clearly. But my chainmail had saved my spine, and I breathed a prayer of thanks. Dwarven made, and it had cost me all of my share of a very profitable journey. But it was worth every farthing. Light enough to wear under a shirt, but more than strong enough to block a cutlass stroke. Of course, I'd have a bruise beneath it – chainmail flexes, no matter who makes it – but better a bruise than dead. <br /> The Songmaster's blade came up, and I parried hurriedly. Good as the chainmail was, it couldn't stop a blow aimed where it wasn't, and her slash would have opened my throat. I got my cutlass up in time, and the blow deflected harmlessly up. I countered with a thrust of my own, a simple strike at her ribs, and she parried it with equal facility. I estimated that we were evenly matched. We had almost the same reach, and if I was a bit stronger, then she was a bit faster, and it balanced out. Of course, I still had those marines at my back, and that would have been a problem. But now that the Songmaster's magic was disabled, the rest of the crew was safe to move in. Suddenly, five marines were facing seven Jewel crewmen, all out for blood. The marines at my back turned to avoid being skewered with boathooks, and I was left alone to deal with the Songmaster. <br /> We faced off, cutlass on cutlass. I led with another thrust at her torso, finishing with a slight upward shift of the point that had fooled opponents before. Not her, though. Her parry was precise and efficient, using the minimum amount of movement to achieve maximum results. She did not immediately riposte, keeping her blade on guard while her breath whistled through her teeth. I made a quick feint to her left, then made a slash aimed at her upper right arm, hoping to cripple her good arm. My feint took her in for a fraction of a second, I saw her sword begin to move to defend against the attack to her left, but she read my intentions in time, and brought the blade back in a quick parry to the right. My blade was barely deflected, and I saw a few strands of midnight-black hair drift down to the deck. I permitted myself a tight smile. The Songmaster caught my eyes, and a smile of her own suddenly blossomed, as she whistled a chord. My blood chilled as I realized, first, that not all music needs an instrument, and second, that her whistling breath had not been tuneless. <br /> But it was a little too late for the realization. This time, she was not using a spell that would effect me directly, wisely choosing to avoid gambling on my ability to resist it. Instead, her spell took affect on the world around her. She blurred in my vision. Suddenly, it was like I was looking at her through a thick fog, or a very dirty pane of glass. I could barely make out any features at all; she seemed closer to a shapeless blob of color than a recognizable person. I slashed at the middle, where I guessed her torso was, but her cutlass parried me again, and then counterattacked, darting into the gap I left when I struck. I wasn't able to return to guard again quickly enough, and she scored on me, a thrust into my neck. Only the tip of the cutlass caught me, but that was enough. I felt a burning pain as the blade opened my unprotected skin, and I knew I would have a new scar, if I lived through this fight. Luckily, she didn't seem to have opened any major blood vessels, but it was bad enough. If I was unable to strike her, she could whittle me down, taking small cuts that would add up to death eventually. My fear grew.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-59191243142279032752008-11-03T04:37:00.001-06:002008-11-03T04:53:36.625-06:00Spelljammer Story chunk 2(Already did 1425 words on a Pyramid article today, so this will be short.)<br /><br />(513 words)<br /><br /> The standing lieutenant counterattacked, and the sounds of tearing flesh, cracking bone, and the screams of the dying began to roll over our deck. His cutlass was a blur, cutting silver lines through the air that were edged in red whenever they intersected the body of a crew member. Obviously, he was a superlative swordsman. But however dangerous the sword, it was the arms that were the true terror in that fight. They moved faster than the eye could see, darting and slashing, stabbing a human at the extreme end of their reach one moment, then shifting inward to claw the spine out of a halfling trying to get through the lieutenant's guard in the blink of an eye.<br /> I shuddered. The deck was already slick with blood around the elf, and the crew who were not lying on the deck dead or dying were desperately trying to retreat out of range of this deadly warrior. A quick count suggested that the lieutenant had downed eight of the Jewel's men within three seconds. This couldn't go on. We simply could not afford to lose men at that rate. And we still had the other elves of the boarding party to deal with, as well! I glanced at them, and saw the marines still circling the third officer and the songmaster. Two of them sported fresh cuts on the arm and chest, but they still looked ready for a fight, and three more crew members were down on the deck at their feet. Clearly, while I had watched the lieutenant with sick fascination, the other members of the boading party had been holding their own.<br /> And probably more, I realized. The Songmaster seemed to be putting the finishing touches on her song, and as she played the last few breathy, haunting notes, her playing took effect. Immediately, the officer in the middle of the elven circle faded from view, becoming invisible before my eyes. I cursed. If he could slip out of the circle and get to the flitter, it was perfectly possible for him to pilot it alone back to the man-o-war. And even if he didn't make a run for it, he could still do enormous damage to us. It's very difficult to parry an invisible stab, and that's if you have any idea that it's coming - not something to count on, given how good at sneaking around most elves were. <br /> Working as fast as I could, I locked the wheel, and then sprinted down the stairs and across the deck, heading toward the flitter. I gave the lieutenant a wide berth. I'm confident in my skill with the cutlass, but I knew my superior when I saw him, and the arms would give him an even greater advantage. As I went, I gathered a couple of the crew who hadn't let been able to get into the press, but that I knew were steady. I shouted to them as we ran "We've got to stand off at the flitter's hatch! The officer's invisible - don't let him get past us!"Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-84762779305912793952008-11-02T02:23:00.001-06:002008-11-02T05:12:40.276-06:00Spelljammer Story chunk 1(2049 words)<br /><br /> My mood lighted a little when I realized that I now had an excellent excuse to watch the Songmaster. I rested my arms on the wheel, slouched a little, and gazed down the deck. I didn't stare, of course. It was natural for the first mate to keep an eye on an elven officer, but rather more strange to stare at nothing but her. But I could rest my eyes on her every few seconds, and a very welcome respite it was. <br /> She was definitely alert, and intelligent. I spotted her eyes looking in my direction often enough, and I think she realized quite quickly that I was scrutinizing her. From the faint smile that I saw grace the corners of her mouth, she probably even had a pretty good idea of some of the thoughts in my mind. But she didn't let it bother her. Her eyes roamed the deck, taking in details. She noticed the crew, and clearly took an interest in what they were doing. I felt the cold sweat start to crawl down my spine again as her eyes moved over the crowd near the bow gun, and the small groups near convenient weapons. If she was too suspicious, and moved her command back to the flitter, we would be in trouble.<br /> But fortune was with me, and her gaze moved on, without even a quiet word to the marine lieutenant. She continued to scrutinize the Jewel's deck, and I noted, with some pride, and more surprise, that she actually seemed impressed by the crew's behavior. I took a moment to look over the deck myself, and found myself in unexpected agreement with an elven officer - the crew were performing admirably. Everyone had their eyes on their task, no one was taking even a moment's pause to stare at the elves. Though I noticed that every group had at least one member whose job just happened to require them to be looking at the boarding party or at me. I covered a grin. We were as ready as we could be, given the circumstances.<br /> The waiting seemed interminable, though only two hours had passed, by the timeglass. My slouch had become rather more realistic, as my act of "bored, uninterested officer" became closer and closer to reality. My fears were subsiding with every grain of sand in the glass. The captain would have been careful to lead the elven officer towards the areas where they would most likely find our contraband first. It was a tactic that I had seen work dozens of times. Very few people conducting an inspection expected the goods to be in the first place they were led to. They would look over the first area cursorily, saving their vigilance for the next few places, and the last few corners of the ship. And by leading to the dangerous areas first, the captain prevented the crew from relaxing too much. Usually, it worked like a charm. Of course, charms don't always work, as I know well. <br /> When the officer came back on deck, followed by the captain, I simply stood straighter, but inwardly I was grinning with relief. The elf's face was even sourer than before, but it had a distinct look of disappointment. Clearly, he had been hoping to find some evidence of wrongdoing, something to bring us all up on charges. He had the look of a petty tyrant who loved making the lives of everyone in his power miserable. But Naval officers tended to be sticklers for the letter of the law. And the Jewel was nothing if not within the letter of the law - except for the contraband, of course. But everything else was perfectly legal. And without even a shoddy coat of paint to object to, the third officer's hands were tied. Once he and his men were all on deck, he turned to the captain. "Your papers and ship are apparently in order. See that they remain so. We will return to our ship, and you may get under way again an hour after we leave." I knew the hour delay was simply his only way of getting to us. Naval law did call for the restriction, a precaution against elven vessels being followed or their movements tracked, but hardly anyone enforced it. This bastard was malicious. The captain, though, simply nodded rapidly, keeping up his sycophant act. "Of course, lord! It shall be as you say!" The Naval officer turned on his heel without even a nod of acknowledgment, and gestured to his troops. They fell into step behind him, and the whole troop marched towards the flitter's hatch. <br /> I was half-way through a sigh of relief when the whole thing came crashing down around us. The troop was passing one of the groups of off-duty crew, three halflings. Two of them were simply sitting and playing dice, but the third, Jess, a fairly young fellow we had only picked up two ports ago, was staring insolently at the elves. He was eating a spikefruit, a particularly sour and spicy variety that only the halflings aboard could stomache. He caught the eye of the one of the marines, and his smile widened into a mocking grin. A scowl crossed the marine's face, and he broke ranks to move towards Jess, obviously planning to teach him some respect. A sharp word from one of the lieutenants reined him in, and he turned to return to formation, only two steps from the halfling. Jess laughed out loud, and tossed the half-eaten spikefruit across the deck to roll just in front of the marine's immaculately shined boots. The marine inhaled, visibly controlling rage - and then his face changed, from contorted anger to suspicion. He bent down, and picked up the spikefruit, and sniffed it again.<br /> That damn sweatdrop started its journey down my backbone again, and this time it felt like a piece of frozen stardust from the void. Jess would have known not to eat spikefruit from those barrels, wouldn't he? I knew, even as the marine ran towards the third officer, that he wouldn't. The marine held up the spikefruit, and said the only word he needed to say. "Bluewort!" <br /> I cursed out loud, and grabbed for the alarm bell. It was all up, and all because of a damn fool mistake. Of course it was bluewort. The tangy plant was a hugely valuable commodity in Redoak - it went into most of the best vintages. And it wouldn't grow in Redoak's soil, or that of any planet near the place. It had to be shipped through at least five systems, from jungle worlds, none of which were under firm elven control. Of course, something so valuable would never be freely traded in elven space. The Liirae family of life elves had a total monopoly. They commanded huge prices for the plant, and had a strict quota of bluewort shipped, which they never exceeded. So, of course, the groudling elves of Redoak would pay very high prices for bluewort brought in by non-Liirae ships. We had been planning to take advantage of those prices.<br /> Our plan had been simple. Bluewort was a very distinctive-smelling plant, which made it hard to smuggle. Far too many marines had a sense of smell as good as a bloodhound, or better. They would scent through all the usual tricks. But spikefruit had an even more pungent odor. And we had gone one better than simply putting the bluewort inside the spikefruit casks. We had spent a laborious week hollowing out spikefruit and putting the satchels of bluewort inside the tough rinds. Even if the elves though to open our barrels, we had counted on them seeing only the spikefruit, which they despised with a passion. And it had worked. Until some damn ten-year-old halfing had taken a spikefruit from the wrong damn barrel. With only the one fruit, there wasn't enough scent to overwhelm the marine's nose, and he had obviously picked up traces of the bluewort. Now we were in for it.<br /> I rang the bell, and grabbed for my cutlass. The third officer was already screaming orders, and the marines had pulled their own cutlasses. The Songmaster had pulled her flute from her belt, and held it to her lips. Our own crew was in motion as well, grabbing belaying pins and boathooks, and beginning a charge towards the elves. The captain was in action - he flung his hat towards the boarding party, discus style. Two of the marines took half a step forward, and slashed at it, trying to knock it to the deck. And then one collapsed backward, a bloody hole appearing in his forehead, and the other snarled and clutched his off-hand to his sword-arm's bicep, blood from a gash already seeping through his fingers. The captain dropped the two pistols he had just fired, and backpedalled, trying to get some distance between him and the elves.<br /> With good reason. The regular marines moved to close ranks around the Naval officer and the Songmaster - but the two lieutenants stepped outward, putting a solid two yards between them and the other elves. And then, from slits cunningly hidden in their uniforms, each unfolded an extra pair of arms. I shuddered at the sight. These were no ordinary arms, though that would have been bad enough. They were monstrous appendages, closer to insect legs than human limbs. Each was a sickly greenish-grey, thin as the haft of a pike, but obviously fast and strong. They had three knobby joints, and the arms extended out far past the reach of their normal arms, by at least a full yard. At the end were rudimentary hands, three-fingered claws that would obviously be incapable of any fine manipulation - not that they needed to be. For each claw was tipped by a black talon, and from the back of the hands projected a wicked spike at least a foot long. The two lieutenants, monstrously calm, faced the rush of the crew of the Jewel with their deadly limbs raised.<br /> Our crew faltered at the dreadful sight. There were a few cries of terror, as some of the newer hands reacted to their first sight of someone seriously enhanced by the Vitae. But from the experienced crew came a low growl. They knew the danger, and they didn't like the thought of facing those arms in a fight. But they liked the idea of surrender even less. The crew continued to advance, although at a more cautious pace. The lieutenants waited, their bodies still in perfect guard formation with their cutlasses, while the deadly arms waved and traced a horrible hypnotic pattern in the air. The crew of the Jewel closed the gap slowly - ten yards, then eight, then six, then four, then two. The swords remained in perfect, parade ground form, but the arms tensed, ready to jab forward with deadly purpose.<br /> And then the lieutenants stumbled sidewise, as did the other elves, as the whole ship lurched to port. Some of our crew did the same, but most of the experienced hands had caught the high-pitched whistle that had blown just before the maneuver began. The portside lifting stones had just been all reduced in strength by half, while the starboard stones were kept the same. The resulting uneven force had pushed the ship into a roll, our portside tilting down as the starboard rose. The sudden shift was enough to knock the unprepared off balance. And the crew took advantage of the chance. Halflings and humans charged in while the arms waved wildly, the lieutenants instinctively trying to regain balance. It took only a second to do so, but a second was enough. <br /> One lieutenant went down with a scream, a boathook from a halfling buried in his shoulder, and a belaying pin from a human crashing down on his skull. The other lieutenant was more fortunate. He took several blows to the arms, but they were clearly tougher than they seemed - none even cracked the bony carapace of the insectile limbs. And too few of the crew had tried for the more vulnerable body - the elf was easily able to parry the few poorly-aimed blows.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-5526656151194463572008-11-01T02:43:00.001-06:002008-11-01T02:50:01.645-06:00First part of Spelljammer storyThis is one of the stories I'll be working on for NaNoWriMo. This is what I've written so far, although of course it doesn't count for wordcount.<br /><br />We were three weeks out of Nijallskall Port, only a week left until<br />we docked at Redoak Lowport. We had passed the border from wildspace<br />only a day ago, but everyone was already looking forward to the Redoak<br />wine. Redoak wine is famous for good reason. It's delicious – even<br />sailors, who typically don't have much of a tongue for fancy drinks,<br />can taste the difference. But the best part of Redoak vintages isn't<br />drinking them, it's what happens afterwards. Or rather, what doesn't<br />happen. A Redoak wine almost never leaves a hangover, no matter how<br />much you drink. I once saw a halfling drink a full cask, and take no<br />ill effect the next morning beyond sleeping a couple extra hours. Of<br />course, the captain put him to scrubbing the hull clean of barnacles,<br />since he overslept on his watch, but at least he kept his dinner down<br />while he did it.<br /> In any case, the crew was eagerly awaiting a day or two of leave in<br />Redoak's taverns. Everyone was working with a will, singing or even<br />doing a dance step or two when they could. It was that aura of<br />anticipation that made what happened next so much worse.<br /> Our first warning was the lookout's cry of "Sail ho!" Work didn't<br />stop, but people stopped whistling and started watching the stars. You<br />always do, when an unknown sail is spotted. Could be nothing, but it<br />could be bad. Pirates, raiders, there are many things a sail can be<br />that mean no good to a crew.<br /> The captain hurried to the lookout's cabin to get a closer look. In a<br />couple minutes, enough time to get a thorough look at the unknown<br />ship, he came back on deck and headed over to me. I could feel the<br />tension increase another notch. If the captain wanted to talk to the<br />first mate, then the sail wasn't obviously nothing. If it had been<br />something small, like a tradesman or trilobite, then there would be no<br />concern. The Jewel of the Clouds was a hammership, and no small<br />vessel, no matter how packed with brigands, could hope to take her.<br /> The captain came up to me, and leaned in close for a private<br />conference. "Looks elven. It's still too far off to tell what -<br />they're running dark. And they're coming up on us quickly. They'll be<br />alongside in half a watch, maybe less."<br /> I frowned. Elves could be bad. The Elven Imperial Navy was the power<br />in this space, and they were hell to deal with. A Naval officer never<br />saw a human or halfling they thought was worth the powder to fire out<br />of a cannon. They tend to assume that all non-elven vessels are<br />smuggling something, and are prepared to tear a ship apart to prove it<br />at the drop of a hat. Even if you had all your papers for legitimate<br />trade in elven space in order, they still took perverse pleasure in<br />dealying you and making life as difficult as possible.<br /> And if you were smuggling something... I felt cold sweat start<br />running down my back.<br /> "Shall we heave to, Cap'n?" I asked.<br /> His brow creased as he pondered, trying to choose the best approach.<br />Finally, he shook his head. "No, Raphael. We'll lose too much time to<br />the search as it is, and this might be nothing but a civilian ship on<br />the same heading."<br /> We shared a skeptical glance – a civilian ship running stealthy was<br />certainly possible, but why would an elven ship do it in Navy space?<br /> The next four hours were tense. The word that an elven ship was<br />catching us up quickly spread through the crew, through the strange<br />osmosis of rumor a close crew always develops. Half the people on board<br />had a reasons to be nervous about dealing with the Navy, and that gave<br />the other half reason as well. When a Navy captain decides to make an<br />example, he likes to make it a big one.<br /> The mystery ship continued to approach. As far as our lookouts could<br />see, it was a thorn, but the captain had made sure that Hawkeye, our<br />best spotter, had a chance to give it a look over. Hawkeye spotted the<br />way the spars around the "thorn" had a tendency to shift slightly as<br />the ship moved past; a sign of an illusion shell cast around a large3r<br />ship. Of course, we couldn't say how much larger.<br /> Half an hour before we expected our guests to arrive, the captain<br />called everyone on deck for a quick explanation. "Alright, you lot! I<br />don't know if you've heard, but we've got elves coming up on our<br />tail!"<br /> He had a twisted grin, and there were scattered jeers and catcalls<br />from the crew. At this point, even the people who had been peacefully<br />drowsing in their hammocks five minutes ago knew what was happening.<br />The captain continued undaunted.<br /> "We're going to be holding steady as she goes right up until that<br />damn flying flowerpot heaves alongside. And I want to make it clear –<br />we did not spot it until that very moment! We had no idea that an<br />elven ship, disguised or no, was catching up. Am I understood?"<br /> A chorus of "Aye, Cap'n!" rippled through the crew. It might gall to<br />have the elves think of us as blind and stupid, but better that then<br />looking like someone with something to hide.<br /> The captain then began pointing out crewmembers. "Rolf, Undine, Rory,<br />Nine-toes..." He continued listing names, until he had accounted for a<br />third of the crew. "You lot, get below. You're the sleeping watch.<br />And make sure your hammocks are in damn shady corners. And Rolf..."<br /> The captain paused, and stared at the burly halfing. Rolf stared<br />back, his bald head and big torso gleaming blue, red, and black from<br />the myriad of tattoos painted across his skin.<br /> "Rolf, see Raphael. You need more hair. And a damn shirt!"<br /> Rolf looked sullen, but resigned. I knew he considered his tattoos a<br />mark of pride, demonstrating his many accomplishments. The problem was,<br />the elves would know it too. And we couldn't take a chance that any of<br />them could read tattoos well enough to see that one of his bigger<br />accomplishments was leading the boarding party that took a Navy<br />waspship as a prize.<br /> I sighed a bit. Being ship's wizard as well as first mate was a lot<br />of work, but I didn't have a lot of choice; I was the best for both<br />jobs. I waved Rolf down towards the gangway, and stepped down myself.<br /> As I waited for Rolf, I went over the words and gestures for the<br />spell in my mind. I've never bothered to practice the hair growth<br />charm much - I don't often need to cast it at the moment's notice, so<br />I haven't managed to dispense with the ritual. Nonetheless, it's a<br />handy trick. A thick growth of hair can cover a lot, and doesn't show<br />up as magic the way an illusion does. The thought made me raise a hand<br />to my own hair, to check that the thick, disheveled brown mop still<br />covered my ears.<br /> Rolf arrived, still sulking, a shirt over a shoulder. "Get on with<br />it, then." he grunted, his baritone voice always slightly startling in<br />someone two and a half feet high. He slouched slightly, taking his<br />hands nearly to the ground.<br /> I nodded, and raised my hands. "This will itch." He nodded, ans stood<br />up a bit, dropping the shirt on the stairs. Touching anything while<br />the hair grew only made it worse. I began to make the gestures<br />required, and chant the words of the power. Since we had time, I did<br />the full ritual, even though I could usually skip and still be<br />successful. No sense risking failure and having to do it twice.<br /> My first word and gesture were those for power, the first of any<br />spell. I began to feel the drain as my own energy funneled into the<br />pattern. I t wasn't much, no more than running up a flight of stairs,<br />but noticeable. The next few gestures identified the target, and what I<br />wanted to happen. Hair is a surprisingly complex part of a person, and<br />I had to specify where I wanted it to grow, and for how long. The<br />final word set the spell loose, and I felt the familiar tingle as the<br />energy seemed to pass out from my chest and into and then through my<br />eyes and hands.<br /> Immediately, Rolf shivered. I could see that he was already covered<br />in reddish-brown fuzz, growing longer as I watched. Within a minute,<br />Rolf's head, face, and chest were covered by thick, wiry hair,<br />obscuring his tattoos completely. When the hair stopped growing, he<br />grunted again. "Done?"<br /> I nodded, and he scowled, piked up the shirt, and headed down the<br />passageway deeper into the hold. I headed back on deck, myself.<br /> The crew was mostly on deck, pretending to casually go about their<br />business. No one of us could have gone on stage in Readoak, but they<br />weren't bad. People like us learn to act casual convincingly, because<br />being unconvincing gets questions asked that you don't have good<br />answers for.<br /> But despite looking casual, we were ready. The on-duty crew all<br />happened to be doing jobs like working the rigging, or lashing down<br />anything loose on the deck, or soaking down the deck to wash it. And<br />the "off-duty" crew had congregated nar things like belaying pins, or<br />boat hooks, or the bow gun.<br /> I checked my own readiness. The minimal amount of power I had spent<br />on Rolf would quickly return, my cutlass was freshly sharpened and<br />loose in its sheath, and my chainmail was comfortably concealed<br />beneath my tunic and trousers. I checked quickly in a direction that<br />had little to do with space. My link to the greater pool of magic<br />flowed smooth and untroubled, ready if I needed. I hoped I didn't –<br />tapping that source would mean that things had gone very wrong indeed.<br /> My self-audit complete, I headed up to the forecastle, where the<br />captain leaned on the rail. He had his silliest outfit on: a bright<br />red-and-white stripped doublet over a turquoise tunic, bright blue<br />tights tucked into shiny, too-tight boots, and the crown of the whole<br />ensemble, a truly enormous brimmed hat of emerald cloth with a huge<br />peacock feather in the band. Add in an ingratiating and stupid smile,<br />and you had the perfect portrait of a human desperately trying to<br />curry elven favor by aping their fashion, and totally failing. It was<br />an image designed to inspire contempt, and I had seen it work more<br />often than not.<br /> The smile was not present right now, though. Captain Blake looked<br />sharp and concerned. He spoke as I approached, without taking his eyes<br />off space. "No trouble, Raphael, with the spell?"<br /> He continued without waiting for my response. "we'll have to be on our<br />toes here. I'll run interference with the damn elves. I want you ready<br />to act if it goes downhill. We can't afford any problems on this. Use<br />your judgment whether to fight or fun. I'll use the usual signal if<br />things go sour." </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> I nodded. "I'll be ready, captain. Here's hoping we won't have to do<br />anything, though."<br /> I took my leave, and began making my preparations. I let the crew<br />know what their duties would be if we had to fight or run, I did a<br />quick inspection of the guns and rigging, and then I settled back near<br />the helm, mentally running through my limited repertoire of offensive<br />spells. Nothing too flashy, but they can do the job if properly<br />applied.<br /> I didn't have long to wait. Ten minutes after I settled back, the<br />"thorn" came up from below-abaft, to port. I noted how far off our<br />beam it stayed; far more space than necessary if it was really as<br />small as it looked.<br /> Its true shape swiftly became obvious. The starfield around it<br />flickered for a second, then large chunks were suddenly obscured. Huge<br />wings, butterfly-shaped but vastly larger, swept down and out from the<br />body of the body of the ship. The body itself was longer than us, but<br />with a thinner beam. I knew from experience that a ship like this,<br />though more fragile than the Jewel, could probably fly rings around<br />us. Men-o-war were the mainstay of Naval forces, and had defeated more<br />than a few hammerships over the centuries.<br /> I decided, after a little thought, that our best bet would be to try<br />to cripple the man-o-war with a surprise broadside, then run for it.<br />The elven ship's huge wings were vulnerable targets, easy to hit and<br />easy to damage. Of course, the elves knew that as well as I, and would<br />undoubtedly have taken steps to prevent it. The question was, what<br />steps...<br /> Well, I could check. I quickly ran through the words to one of the<br />spells I knew. Luckily, I knew it well enough to dispense with the<br />gestures. Any elf watching me from the man-o-war's deck would see the<br />me mumbling, no more. I felt the spell take effect, and I stretched my<br />mind out to touch the closer wing of the elven ship. I immediately<br />picked up the traces of three spells cast on the ship. Carefully, I<br />began analyzing the spells.<br /> The first was an illusion spell, no doubt the illusion disguise the<br />vessel had up when when it approached us. The caster had obviously<br />decided to leave it up, rather than drop it and cast it again once our<br />encounter was over.<br /> The second was an air spell of some sort. I didn't recognize the<br />specifics, but it was probably something to improve the ship's<br />maneuverability even further. Elves tended to take any opportunity<br />they could to increase their advantage in that department.<br /> The third spell – ah, now we were getting somewhere. The third spell<br />was a ward, and it looked familiar. I took a closer look at it for a<br />few seconds, and nodded in satisfaction. As I suspected, it was a<br />shield against missiles, that would cause them to miss harmlessly.<br />Troublesome – but far less bad then it could be. A spell to reverse<br />missiles back on us would be more serious. And there were ways to<br />break through such spells. Way that we had access to, although not in<br />large quantities.<br /> I released my spell and grabbed the speaking tube. "Cannon Deck, this<br />is the First Mate. Respond." Within a few seconds, a voice came back,<br />made hollow by the tube. "What do you need, Raphael?"<br /> "The man-o-war has a missile shield up. If things go south, I want a<br />single broadside fired into the wing before we run. Make sure the have<br />four break balls in the first volley before we fire the rest of the<br />guns."<br /> "Right, Raph. We'll hit them solid. Good luck up top!"<br /> I looked up, and watched the man-o-war. It was really quited<br />beautiful, with its wings colored a deep royal purple with black and<br />dark green patterns. It was probably patterned after a real type of<br />butterfly – most man-o-wars were. The material of the wings shone and<br />glittered like crystal, though with the smooth lines of the plant that<br />it was, rather than a gem's hard edges.<br /> As I gazed at the deadly beauty of the ship, I saw a small vessel<br />near the man-o-war's tail raise sail and come coasting across the<br />stars towards us. I nodded – the waiting was over. The incoming<br />flitter would have the elven boarding party to inspect us. Probably<br />the first mate, the more junior of the ship's wizards, and a squad of<br />marines.<br /> The flitter landed on the deckspace that the crew of the Jewel had<br />cleared. I nodded in satisfaction; without orders, our men had ensured<br />that the flitter was close enough to the gangway that if it came to a<br />fight, we could rush it before it took off.<br /> The flitter's hatch opened, and the boarding party came out. First<br />were two elves dressed in marine lieutenant's uniforms – obviously<br />positioning themselves to defend against any sudden rushes. They<br />looked fairly normal, but that could be deceptive. Marine officers<br />tended toward subtle enhancement rather than blatant. Next was the<br />Naval officer in charge. I spotted his insignia, and nodded. Third<br />officer, just as I guessed. He was striking in his black uniform,<br />relieved only by the white and blue gems making up his rank markers.<br />His most obvious feature, however, was his height; he towered almost<br />eight feet high, well above the marines. No doubt an alteration made<br />to make him look more commanding. His face bore an expression of<br />contempt and hauteur, and my heart sank. This did no appear to be an<br />elf prepared to be reasonable.<br /> Behind the officer, literally in his shadow, came the wizard. Or, I<br />corrected myself as I got a closer look, the Songmaster. The very<br />attractive Songmaster. I felt my face flush as I watcher her, and I<br />quickly wrenched my gze away before she notice me staring. But her<br />image was still in my mind. She had a willowy figure, but she was less<br />thin than most elves, with a definite figure under her scarlet<br />Songmaster uniform. She was short for an elf, probably just under six<br />feet. Her face was a perfect heart shape, wide forehead and eyes,<br />narrowing to an elegantly pointed chin, all of it framed by a fall of<br />space-black hair that went down to her waist. She had a flute on her<br />belt, no doubt the instrument she used for her power, and she scanned<br />the deck of the Jewel intently, but with far less of the<br />superciliousness of the third officer.<br /> Behind the Songmaster came the remainder of the marine squad. These<br />were humans, bondservants, no doubt. Six of them marched down the ramp<br />in formation, their cutlasses sheathed but with hands ready on the<br />hilts. Their flesh, below their neat marine uniforms, was brownish,<br />and looked hard and inflexible. No doubt they had been modified to<br />have armor, to make them more effective fighters. And they probably<br />also had more subtle changes.<br /> I pondered. Eight marines, plus a Songmaster and a Naval officer,<br />against the thirty-five crew of the Jewel. At first glance, an uneven<br />fight, but a great deal depended on the quality of the marines, and on<br />exactly what the Songmaster was capable of. I had never met one before<br />myself, but I had head rumors of Songmasters capable of controlling<br />minds or creating complex illusions with their magic, setting crews<br />against each other or forcing them to fight shadows. I resolved to<br />focus on taking out the Songmaster as quickly as possible. I'd go for<br />the flute; without a way to make music, she'd be crippled.<br /> While I plotted tactics to use against them, the elven party advanced<br />towards the captain, who stood on the deck witing for them. The two<br />lieutenants had moved aside and now wlked to either side and somewhat<br />behind the Naval officer and the Songmaster. I noticed that the<br />Songmaster and the officer stepped in perfect time, the Songmaster<br />only very slightly behind the other elf. From what I knew of Navy<br />protocol, this was odd. Normally, the second ship's mage was junior to<br />the third officer, and should show more deference. I had heard that<br />the Songmasters occupied a somewhat special position in the Naval<br />hierarchy, and it seemed it was true.<br /> The elves marched up to the captain, who swept off his hat and made a<br />low bow. I hid a smile – the captain was already starting his act.<br />Elven protocol required non-elves to kneel rather than bow to show<br />respect, but Captain Blake had bowed far lower than he need to. A bow<br />like that would have been appropriate to an elven commoner addressing<br />an admiral. I saw the third officer's lip curl in derision.<br /> The officer didn't bother returning the captain's gesture, or even<br />saluting, which would have been according to protocol. Instead, he<br />just began barking orders.<br /> "You command this 'vessel'?" His words dripped scorn. At the<br />captain's nod, he continued. "We will inspect you for contraband. You<br />will cooperate in any way possible." His expression grew even more<br />unpleasant. "If you are found in violation of elven law, you will be<br />punished to the full extent of the law."<br /> The captain bowed even deeper, and continued his obsequious act. "Of<br />course, noble lord! Our ship, our crew, and your willing assistance,<br />are at your disposal! Inspect at your leisure!"<br /> The elf gestured peremptorily toward the hold. "We will begin.<br />Follow." He strode down the deck. Behind him, one of the lieutenants<br />and three of the marines moved to keep pace with him. I grudgingly<br />awarded him points for tactics; he neither left himself without a<br />guard, nor left his ship undefended. The captain hurried after him,<br />the elf's long strides forcing him to scurry to keep up. They reached<br />the hatch, and headed down.<br /> I sighed, and leaned against the wheel. Now it was a matter of<br />waiting. The captain could baffle and confuse with the best of them,<br />but elves were clever, and they had time to gain experience spotting<br />tricks. This would be a tense few hours.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1152763681666681512006-07-12T21:46:00.000-06:002006-07-12T22:08:01.843-06:00Harry Potter Magic for GURPSIt's been banging around in my head for a while, so I figured I'd write it down.<br /><br /><b>Easy Magic</b><br />Magic needs to be easier, overall. Characters in the books can cast spells after very little practice, often reasonably competently. So, two elements to this.<br />1) Spells are not all Hard or Very Hard. Simple enough: some spells, particularly those that don't require high levels of Magery, are Easy or Average. As a rule of thumb, spells with no prerequisites are Easy, spells with other spells or Magery 1 as prerequisites are Average.<br />2) Spells can default. To either IQ or to their prerequisite spells.<br />These two elements lets student wizards with only a little training cast spells - so, you can spend a week or three days learning a levitate spell, and still be able to use it to disarm a monster when you have to.<br />However, spells should probably have familiarity penalties applied. If all the student wizard has ever learned to levitate is a feather, levitating a club should take a familiarity penalty.<br /><br /><b>Wands</b><br />Wands are obviously very important in the Potterverse, but not absolutely nessecary. Therefore, casting can be done without a wand, but at a -5 penalty. Further, wands improve your ability to cast spells with reduced fatigue costs. A Cheap wand doesn't improve matters at all, but it eliminates the -5 penalty. A Good wand (the standard) means that energy cost of spells is reduced for every 4 points in skill, rather than every 5. A Fine wand reduces energy every 3 points. A Very Fine wand reduces energy for every 2 points in the skill. All wands are very personalized - a wizard is supposed to "match" their wand - but Very Fine wands are moreso. A wizard trying to use another wizard's Very Fine wand treats it as only a Fine wand, for energy reduction.<br />Probably all Olivander's wands are Fine. Hogwarts probably subsidizes him to keep their students in decent magic supplies, and he relies on good advertising to make more money.<br /><br /><b>Common Enchanting</b><br />Enchantment is quite clearly common as dirt in the Potterverse. Enchant should be at best a Magery 1 spell, and drop the "spells from 10 other colleges" prereq entirely. Further, enchanting should be faster - probably 1 point/hour in slow and sure enchantment, as I saw suggested in a Pyramid article.<br />Further, enchanted items practially all seem to have some sort of intelligence. Possibly this is a side effect of the enchanting process.<br /><br /><b>Colleges</b><br />Obviously, there are fewer colleges in this world - possibly only 3 or 4. Also, One College Magery never seems to happen on its own, only possibly in combination with some levels of full Magery.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1136868022173833022006-01-09T21:51:00.000-06:002006-01-10T18:55:59.220-06:00Naruto Ninja TemplateJust 'cause.<br /><br /><b><i>Ninja</i></b><br /><b>571 Points + value of village/clan as Patron</b><br />You are a ninja, a spy, saboteur, and assassin for your clan or village.<br /><br /><b>Attributes:</b> ST 12 [20]; DX 14 [80]; IQ 10 [0]; HT 12 [20]<br /><b><br />Secondary Characteristics:</b> Dmg 1d-1/1d+2; BL 29 lbs; HP 14 [4]; Will 12 [10]; Per 14 [20]; FP 15 [9]; Basic Speed 10 [10]; Basic Move 10 [0]<br /><b><br />Advantages:</b> Brachiator [5]; Catfall [10]; Combat Reflexes [15]; Enhanced Move 1 (Ground Speed 20) [20]; Very Fit [15]; Patron (clan or village) [variable]; Perfect Balance [15]; Ninja Rank 0 (Academy student or Genin) [0]; Social Regard: Ninja (Feared) +2 [10], Super Climbing 4 [12]; Super Jump 2 [20]; Trained By A Master [30];<br />Plus 50 points from Acute Senses [2/level], Allies [variable], Ambidexterity [5], Arm ST [12 or 16/level], Arm DX [3, 5, or 8/level], Breath-Holding [2/level], Danger Sense [15], Daredevil [15], Eidetic Memory [5] or Photographic Memory [10], Extra Attack [25/level], Favor [variable], Fearlessness [2/level], Flexibility [5] or Double-jointed [15], Gizmos [5/level], Hard to Kill [2/level], Hard to Subdue [2/level], High Manual Dexterity [5/level], High Pain Threshold [10], Indomitable [15], Intuition [15], Less Sleep [2/level], Lifiting ST [3/level], Mimicry [10], Night Vision [1/level], Peripheral Vision [ 15], Rapid Healing [5] or Very Rapid Healing [15], Recovery [10], Reduced Consumption [2/level], Resistant (poisons) [15/level], Sensitive Touch [10], Single-Minded [5], Social Chameleon [5], Striking ST [5/level], Talent: Outdoorsman [10/level], Talent: Smooth Operator [15/level], Unfazeable [15], Versatile [5], Visulization [10], Weapon Master [variable]<br />Plus 100 points from Energy Reserve [3/level], Taijutsu Power [5/level] and Taijutsu advantages, Genjutsu Power [5/level] and Genjutsu advantages, or Ninjutsu Power [10/level] and Ninjutsu advantages.<br /><br /><b>Disadvantages:</b> Code of Honor (Ninja's) [-15] and Duty (village or clan, almost all the time) [-15]<br /> <i>or</i> Secret (Does not follow Ninja Code of Honor) [-10] and Duty (village or clan, almost all the time) [-15] <br /> <i>or</i> Reputation (Does not follow Ninja Code of Honor, variable application, variable recognition) and Enemy (former village, variable power, variable appearance), together totalling -35;<br /> Plus -50 points chosen from Bad Temper [-10]*, Bloodlust [-10]*, Bully [-10]*, Callous [-5], Chummy [-5], Dependents [variable], Enemies [variable], Fanaticism [-15] or Extreme Fanaticism [-15], Flashbacks [variable], Guilt Complex [-5], Intolerance (other ninja villages/clans) [variable], Loner [-5]*, Nightmares [-5]*, Obsession [-5]* or [-10]*, On The Edge [-15]*, Overconfidence [-5]*, Paranoia [-10], Reputation [variable], Sadism [-15]*, Selfish [-5]*, Selfless [-5]*, Sense of Duty [variable], Trademark [variable], Unnatural Features [variable], Vow [variable], Workaholic [-5]<br /><br /> <b>Primary Skills:</b> Acrobatics (H) DX+1 [8]-15; Camouflage (E) IQ+3 [8]-13; Climbing (A) DX+2 [8] -16; Escape (H) DX+1 [8] -15; Fast Draw (knife) (E) DX+3 [8] -17; Filch (A) DX+2 [8] -16; Gesture (E) IQ+3 [8] -13; Holdout (A) DX+2 [8] -16; Invisibility Art (VH) IQ [8] -10; Jumping (E) DX+3 [8] -17; Karate (H) DX+1 [8] -15; Knife (E) DX+3 [8] -17; Lockpicking (A) IQ+2 [8] -12; Parry Missile Weapons (H) DX+1 [8] -15; Pickpocket (H) DX+1 [8] -14; Running (A) HT+2 [8] -14; Search (A) Per+2 [8] -16; Stealth (A) DX+2 [8] -16; Thrown Weapon (Knife) (E) DX+3 [8] -17; Thrown Weapon (Shuriken) (E) DX+3 [8] -17;<br /> <br /> <b>Secondary Skills:</b> Choose <i>four</i> skills from: Acting, Armory (Melee Weapons), Disguise, Explosives (Demolition), Fast-Talk, Leadership, Navigation, Shadowing, Smuggling, Streetwise, or Traps, all (A) IQ+1 [4] -11;<br /> Area Knowledge (any) or First Aid, both (E) IQ+2 [4] -12;<br /> Autohypnosis or Power Blow, both (H) Will [4] -12;<br /> Blind Fighting (VH) Per-1 [4] -13;<br /> Body Control (VH) HT-1 [4] -11;<br /> Body Language, Observation, Survival, or Tracking, all (A) Per+1 [4] -15;<br /> Breaking Blow, Cryptography, Diplomacy, Flying Leap, Forgery, Hypnotism, Intelligence Analysis, Mimicry, Naturalist, Poisons, Pressure Points, Strategy, or Tactics, all (H) IQ [4] -10;<br /> Breath Control or Kiai, both (H) HT [4] -12;<br /> Detect Lies or Esoteric Medicine, both (H) Per [4] -14;<br /> Garrote, Innate Attack, or Knot-Tying, all (E) DX+2 [4] -16;<br /> Hiking (A) HT+1 [4] -13;<br /> Immovable Stance, Light Walk, Sleight of Hand, or Throwing Art, all (H) DX [4] -14;<br /> Interrogation (A) IQ+1 [4] -11;<br /> Intimidation or Mind Block, both (A) Will+1 [4] -13;<br /> Judo (H) DX [4] -14;<br /> Mental Strength (E) Will+2 [4] -14;<br /> Scrounging (E) Per+2 [4] -16;<br /> Swimming (E) HT +2 [4] -14;<br /> Throwing (A) DX+1 [4] -15;Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1135923772721851812005-12-29T22:35:00.000-06:002006-01-03T22:57:58.263-06:00Shadowrun Races in GurpsBecause I need to write something, and the desire to do an SR -> GURPS conversion has been floating around in my brain for a while.<br /><br />First, some explanation as to attribute levels: SR uses a 1-6 scale, with cybered or magical characters exceeding that on the high end. 3 is a typical score. I used Strength in both systems as a benchmark (SR's only lifting statistics seem to jibe well with the weights that GURPS considers "light encumbrance"), and assumed that the other stats followed the same progression (that is, a +1 to Body in SR gave the same relative boost to HT in GURPS that a +1 to Strenght would give) . When in doubt, I rounded up.<br />I also cheated a bit on the IQ stats; if I followed my own method, orcs and trolls would have basically been unplayably dumb. Instead, I gave them a selection of "dumb" mental disadvantages to choose from. This also adds some flexibility to character design, I feel: now, you can <i><b>choose</b></i> in what way your orc or troll is dim!<br /><br />Humans, of course, are average, and have no racial template.<br /><br /><b><i>Dwarves</i></b><br /><b>Point Cost:</b> 49<br /><i>Attribute Modifiers:</i> ST +2 [20]; HT +1 [10]<br /><i>Secondary Characteristic Modifiers:</i> SM -1; Will +1 [5]<br /><i>Advantages:</i> Extended Lifespan 1 [2]; Infravision [10]; Resistant (common: poisons) +3 [5]; Resistant (Occaisonal: disease) +3 [4]<br /><i>Disadvantages:</i> Social Stigma (dwarf) -1 [-5]<br /><br /><b><i>Elves</i></b><br /><b>Point Cost:</b> 52<br /><i>Attribute Modifiers:</i> DX +1 [20]<br /><i>Advantages:</i> Appearance: Attractive [4]; Charisma +1 [5]; Extended Lifespan 2 [4]; Night Vision 9 [9]; Racial Talent: Smooth Operator 1 [15]<br /><i>Disadvantages: </i>Social Stigma (elf) -1 [-5]<br /><br /><b><i>Orcs</i></b><br /><b>Point Cost:</b> 11<br /><i>Attribute Modifiers:</i> ST +2 [20]; IQ -1 [-20]; HT +3 [30]<br /><i>Advantages:</i> Night Vision 9 [9]<br /><i>Disadvantages:</i> Appearance: Unattractive [-4]; Short Lifespan 1 [-10]; Social Stigma (orc) -2 [-10]; Choose -10 points from Clueless [-10], Confused [-10]*, Curious [-5]*, Dyslexia [-10], Gullibility [-10]*, Hidebound [-5], Impulsiveness [-10]*, Incurious [-5]*, Indecisive [-10]*, Innumerate [-5], No Sense of Humor [-10]; Non-Iconographic [-10]; Oblivious [-5], Overconfidence [-5]*, Short Attention Span [-10]*, Stress Atavism [-10]*, and Stubborness [-5].<br /><br /><b><i>Trolls</i></b><br /><b>Point Cost: </b>36<br /><i>Attribute Modifiers:</i> ST +4 [40]; DX -1 [-20]; IQ -2 [-40]; HT +5 [50]<br /><i>Secondary Characteristic Modifiers:</i> SM +1<br /><i>Advantages:</i> Damage Reduction 9 [45]; Infravision [10];<br /><i>Disadvantages:</i> Appearance: Unattractive [-4]; Short Lifespan 1 [-10]; Social Stigma (troll) -3 [-15]; Choose -20 points from Absent-Mindedness [-15], Bestial [-10], Clueless [-10], Confused [-10]*, Curious [-5]*, Dyslexia [-10], Gullibility [-10]*, Hidebound [-5], Impulsiveness [-10]*, Incurious [-5]*, Indecisive [-10]*, Innumerate [-5], No Sense of Humor [-10]; Non-Iconographic [-10]; Oblivious [-5], Overconfidence [-5]*, Short Attention Span [-10]*, Stress Atavism [-10]*, and Stubborness [-5].Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1130897291126660892005-11-01T18:34:00.000-06:002005-11-07T14:56:01.730-06:00Mind Worm PowersFigured I'd do a writeup of mindworms as a boil.<br /><br />A one hex boil has the following stats:<br /><br />ST: 5 (No Fine Manipulators, -40%) [-30]<br />DX: 10<br />IQ: 5 [-100]<br />HT: 10<br /><br />HP: 5<br />Will: 10 [25]<br />Per: 10 [25]<br />FP: 6 [-12]<br /><br />Basic Speed: 5<br />Basic Move: 1 [-20]<br />Dodge: N/A<br /><br />Size Modifier: -2<br /><br />360 Degree Vision [25]<br /><br />Affliction: Armor Destruction (1 level, Negated advantage: 5 levels of DR +25%, Cumulative +400%, Cosmic irresistable attack +300%, Melee Range C, cannot parry -35%) [79]<br /><br />Affliction: Electrical Negation (1 level, Incapictation: Unconsciousness +200%, Area Affect: 4 yards +100%, Malediction +150%, Accessibility: Only on Electrical -20%) [53]<br /><br />Affliction: Mind Shield Shatter (Negated Advantage: Mind Shield 3 levels +12%, Cumulative +400%, Costs Fatigue 4 -20%, Malediction +150%) [64]<br /><br />Affliction: Will Crush (Attribute Penalty: Will 3 levels +9%, Cumulative +400%, Costs Fatigue 4 -20%, Malediction +150%, Alternative Attack to Affliction: Mind Shield Shatter *1/5) [13]<br /><br />Compartmentalized Mind (Accessibility: Only for Affliction: Electrical Negation -50%) [25]<br /><br />Detect Telepathy (Occasional, Precise +100%) [20]<br /><br />Injury Tolerance: Diffuse [100]<br /><br />Innate Attack: Area Mental Blow (Fatigue Attack 1, Malediction +150%, Costs Fatigue 2 -10%, Telepathic -10%, Area Affect 4 yards +100%, Alternate Attack to Affliction: Mind Shield Shatter *1/5) [7]<br /><br />Innate Attack: Indidvidual Mental Blow (Fatigue Attack 1, Malediction +150%, Costs Fatigue 1 -10%, Telepathic -10%, Alternate Attack to Affliciton: Mind Shield Shatter *1/5) [5]<br /><br />Unfazeable [15]<br /><br />Bad Sight [-25]<br /><br />Bestial [-15]<br /><br />Cannot Learn [-30]<br /><br />Cannot Speak [-25]<br /><br />Cold Blooded [-5]<br /><br />Fragile (Hex dispersed if HP damage dealt to it; no roll) [-75]<br /><br />Frightens Animals [-10]<br /><br />Hidebound [-5]<br /><br />Innumerate [-5]<br /><br />Invertebrate [-20]<br /><br />No Fine Manipulators [-50]<br /><br />Non-Iconographic [-10]<br /><br />Reprogrammable [-10]<br /><br />Sense of Duty (To Planet or boil controller; Large Group for Planet, Individual for boil controller) [-10] or [-2]<br /><br />Unhealing (Total) [-30]<br /><br />Unusual Biochemistry [-5]<br /><br />Huh. Total point value for a one hex boil (controlled by a human) actually ends up being -28. (Controlled by Planet is -36, cause the Sense of Duty is bigger).<br /><br />Making multiple boils should probably translate to one level of Extra Attack per three hexs [25 points/level], plus one level of Compartmentalized Mind (Accessibility: Mental Blow powers only, -50%) [25]<br /><br />Treat boils larger than 3 hexes as Ally Groups composed of multiple 3 hex boils.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1130638999950170282005-10-29T16:25:00.000-06:002005-10-29T20:23:19.993-06:00Faction Technology, Probe Skills, and Secret ProjectsYes, I'm finally posting again. This is something that's been kicking around in my head for a while; it's an attempt to quantify the workings of the Research score, the Probe score, and secret project building in GURPS Alpha Centauri.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Research</span><br />Technological progress is divided up into several main areas: Hard Physics Applications (better weapons, armor, and materials science in general), Social Sciences (advancements in economics, politics, and philosophy), Terran Bioscience (developments in bioengineering, medical science, etc), Planetary Bioscience (developments in understanding and bioengineering Centaurian lifeforms), Computer Science (better computers, both hardware and software, artificial intelligence, and better network architecture), Cybernetics (interfacing mechanical parts into organic lifeforms), Terraforming (Planetary ecology, making Planet more like Earth, and making Earth life more compatible to Planet), and Psionics (understanding telepathy, and enhancing it artificially).<br />A faction can be at one of four states with respect to each of these technologies: Bleeding Edge (the faction is several years ahead of the average), Advanced (the faction is one of the frontrunners in developing that technology), Average (the faction is neither ahead nor behind the curve on the technology), and Dead Last (the faction has a serious lag when it comes to the technology).<br />For every point that a faction's Research score exceeds zero, it has one technology at the Bleeding Edge state, with the rest of its technologies at Average. A faction with a Reseach score of exactly zero has one technology at Advanced, and all others at Average. A faction with a negative research score has a number of technologies at Dead Last for every point it is below zero, while the rest of its technologies are Average. A faction can "trade" one technology at a given level for two technologies at one level lower.<br /><br />The Lords Believers have a Reasearch score of -4, the worst on Planet. For them, Social Science, Computer Science, Terran Biosciences, and Cybernetics are all Average, while Hard Physics Applications, Planetary Biosciences, Terraforming, and Psionics are Dead Last.<br />The Cybernetic Consciousness Corporation has a Reasearch score of +2. They are Bleeding Edge in Cybernetics and Computer Science, and Average in Social Science, Terran Bioscience, Planetary Bioscience, Hard Physics Applications, Terraforming, and Psionics.<br />The Data Angels have a Research score of +2. They are Bleeding Edge in Computer Science, and they are Advanced in Social Science and Cybernetics (they've traded one Bleeding Edge for two Advanced). They are Average in Social Science, Terran Bioscience, Planetary Bioscience, Hard Physics Applications, Terraforming, and Psionics.<br />The Free Drones have a Research score of 0. They are Advanced in Hard Physics Applications, and Average in all other fields.<br />Gaia's Stepdaughters has a Research score of 0. They are Bleeding Edge in Terraforming (because they control the Weather Paradigm), Advanced in Psionics, and Average in all other fields.<br />The Human Hive has a Reasearch score of 0. They are Advanced in Social Science, and Average in all other fields.<br />Morgan Industries has a Research score of 0. They are Advanced in Social Science, and Average in all other fields.<br />The Peacekeeping Forces has a Research score of 0. They are Advanced in Terran Bioscience, and Average in all other fields.<br />The Nautilus Pirates has a Reserach score of 0. They are Advanced in Planetary Bioscience, and Average in all other fields.<br />The Cult of Planet has a Reserach score of 0. They are Bleeding Edge in Psionics (because they control the Empath Guild), Advanced in Planetary Bioscience, and Average in all other fields.<br />The Spartan Federation has a Research score of 0. They are Advanced in Hard Physics Applications, and Average in all other fields.<br />The University of Planet has a Research score 0f 4. They are Bleeding Edge in Hard Physics Applications, Cybernetics, Computer Science, and Terran Bioscience, and Advanced in Terraforming (The University has traded one Bleeding Edge for two Advanced fields, but they control the Human Genome Project, which increases their Terran Bioscience back up to Bleedinge Edge). They are Average in Psionics and Planetary Bioscience.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Probe<br /></span>To calculate how many probe teams a faction can field, add 1 to its Probe score (if positive), and multiply by 10. If a faction's probe score is negative, subtract it from 10 to get the number of probe teams the faction can field. <br />Each probe team can either infiltrate an enemy base, or defend a faction's own base. A probe team has an effective skill in general espianoge equal to 11 plus its faction's probe score. When a probe team infiltrates an enemy base, roll a quick contest of the probe team's skill vs. the defending skill. The defending skill is equal to either the skill of a defending probe team, or to 6 plus the faction's probe score if no opposing probe team is present, plus 2 in either case, to represent "home team advantage". If more than one defensive team is present in a base, each gets a separate quick contest against the infiltrating probe team.<br />For example, the Lord's Believers, with a Probe score of +3, send a probe team to a Spartan base. The Spartans have a Probe score of 0. If there is no Spartan probe team defending the base, then the Believer probe team rolls a quick contest of its espianoge skill of 14 (11 + 3, the Believer's Probe score), against the base's counter-espianoge skill of 8 (6 + 2 for home team advantage). If, on the other hand, a defending Spartan probe team was present, the Believers would roll 14 against the Spartan's 13 (11 + 2 for home team advantage).<br />A faction can choose to convert two probe teams into one team, with a +1 bonus to its skill. This can continue indefinitely, but each +1 doubles the number of probe teams the faction must consolidate. For example, to get a +4 bonus, the faction would have to consoloidate 16 probe teams.<br />Simple infiltration of a base will grant the successful faction a general idea of the base's layout, political system, major power players, and key base systems. However, sometimes, a faction needs more direct action by a probe team. These actions are generally harder to do covertly, and thus apply a penalty to the probe team's roll.<br />Minor sabotage (destroying non-essentail base functions, or private property: -1.<br />Major sabotage (destroying essentail base functions such as military units or defensive structures): -3<br />Short-term intelligence (determining individual military units' movements, determining immediate research goals): -2<br />Long-term intelligence (determining general strategy, determining the general goal of a reasearch strategy): -4<br />Full technology theft: -5<br />Base destruction (through plague, sabotage of all base functions, etc): -7<br />Base conversion (through sedition or coup): -7<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Secret Projects<br /></span>When determining who first builds a secret project, several factors contribute. The first is number of bases; more bases means a bigger economy and more resources to devote to projects. Base heavy factions (The Drones, Gaia, the Hive, and Sparta), produce one Project Point per year. Base medium factions (The Believers, the Peacekeepers, the Nautilus Pirates, the Cult of Planet, and the University) produce one Project Point every two years. Base light factions (C^3, the Data Angels, and Morgan) produce one Project Point every three years.<br />Having a lead in technology related to the project also helps. Choose which branch of technology (Hard Physics, Social Science, Terran Bioscience, Planet Bioscience, Computer Science, Cybernetics, Terraforming, or Psionics) the project falls into (a project can fall into more than one field. For example, the Neural Amplifier would fall into both Cybernetics and Psionics). If a faction is Bleeding Edge in a technology the project falls into, it gets +2 Project Points for that project. If a faction is Advanced in a technology a project falls into, it gets +1 Project Point.<br />Having a high Economy, Effeciency, or Industry score gives extra Project Points, at a rate of +1 for each of the relevant score above 2, or +2 for each score above 4. These modifiers don't stack with multiple high scores, however; a faction with Efficiency and Economy ratings both above 2 only gets +1, not +2 for both scores.<br />Finally, a faction can sabotage another faction's project, by sending probe teams. This is a major<br />sabotage attempt, with the -3 penalty that entails. A successful mission causes the project to lose 1d/2 Project Points.<br />The first faction to accumulate 15 Project Points toward a project successfully constructs that project. Other factions can trade their Project Points in a project for points in another project 2 for 1.<br /><br />The currently built secret projects, and their owners, are:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Weather Paradigm</span> was developed early in the Gaian's history. As a result, they have long enjoyed a healthy lead in terraforming projects, and their territory is well developed without significant ecological damage.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Human Genome Project</span> was one of the first major research projects that the University undertook on Planet, and their medical care and understanding of genetic engineering is top-notch on Alpha Centauri because of it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Virtual World</span> was actually developed by the Lord's Believers, initially as a religious educational tool. Although it grew beyond that, into the wide variety of entertainment programs it currently offers, the virtual enviroments still reflect a deep spirituality and respect for Believer morality.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Merchant Exchange</span> was constructed by Morgan Industries, almost as soon as they had contact with other factions. Even today, Morgan's original base remains one of Planet's leading financial centers because of it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Command Nexus</span> was constructed by the Spartans, to coordinate their scattered and sometimes undisiplined militia units. The firm guidance and tactical and strategic knowledge of the Command Nexus staff has forged Sparta's army into the strongest military force on Planet.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Empath Guild</span> was originally formed by the Gaians, and with it they had a strong lead in psionics for much of Planet's early history. However, the Guild was never fully integrated into Gaian society, and during the recent revolt of the Cult of Planet, much of the upper leadership of the Guild defected to the new faction, giving it a strong edge in psionics, and leaving the Gaians seething.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Citizen's Defense Force</span> was an innovation of the Free Drones, who rejected the elitist views of their original masters, the Human Hive, and created a truly egalitarian military. As a result, every Drone not physically incapable has served for at least one year in the military, with the according basic training.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Maritime Control Center</span> was originally a Gaian project, designed to win naval superiority over the other factions by better organizing their seagoing forces. However, when the Nautilus Pirates revolted, the Admirality staff of the Center joined their sealoving brethern. Now, the Control Center acts to coordinate the Pirates' shipping activities, both commercial and military.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Planetary Transit System</span> was created by the Gaians, and insures that travel within Gaian territory is quick, simple, and safe. Gaians make extensive use of cargo zeppelins and large, slow moving, solar powered crawlers for cargo, and smaller, but faster, "buses" for moving people. All Gaian vehicles are extremely low pollution, in accordance with Gaian philosophy.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Planetary Energy Grid</span> was a construction of the Peacekeepers, who wanted to use economic means to increase the unity of the factions. Though this goal has not so far succeeded, they have made a significant profit off the energy futures market, as well as insuring other factions against energy shortages.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Planetary Datalinks </span>were only built in the past few years, by the Data Angels, who wished to collate all of human knowledge in a more easily accessible form. To this end, they also created the first truly Planetary computer network. So far, the Datalinks have proved very useful for the Angels, who find it easy to get knowledge from members of other factions who come to the Datalinks to study.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Neural Amplifier</span> was a creation of the Cybernetic Consciousness Corporation, who were seeking a way to improve their defense against telepathy, both from human and Planetary attackers. They have recently begun licensing the technology to other factions, but their own units still have the best available neural amplifier designs, giving them an edge.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1124606513539078762005-08-20T23:12:00.000-06:002005-08-21T00:41:53.553-06:00Morgan IndustriesCorporate motto: Greed <i><b>is</b></i> good!<br /><br /><b>CEO Nawbudike Morgan</b><br />Advantages, give him Status 6 (leader of a major faction) and Merchant Rank 6 (President, CEO, and Chairman of the Board of Morgan Industries.<br />Disadvantages and skills seem to be fine.<br /><br />Pre-Planetfall bio is fine.<br />After Planetfall, Nawbudike Morgan found himself in command of one of the smallest and most fractious factions on Planet. Unlike most of the other faction leaders, he had lacked the time to build up a cadre of devoted followers and to make serious plans before Planetfall. During the Unity crisis, Morgan was forced to scramble to gather together as many people as he could find, and commandeer one of the escape pods.<br />After landing on Planet, Morgan began to play out his long term strategy for domination. Although he was the leader during the desperate flight to the surface, he quickly renounced his role, and encouraged his fellow colonists to set up as democratic a government as possible. Of course, due to his reputation for successfully saving the colonists during the disaster, and his political skills, Morgan was able to win election after election. He never ran for the overall leadership of the colony, but he consistently won positions where he would be responsible for economic matters, and made sure to keep enough general political clout that whoever was the nominal leader at the time could not afford to disregard him.<br />Morgan quickly steered "his" colony into a free-market ideal. Within this framework, he set up several businesses, using his political power to avoid anti-monopoly crusades. Within 40 M.Y., Morgan was in command of most of his colony's economic activity, and Morgan himself was quickly rebuilding his fortune. It was at this point that he consolidated most of his companies, which had previously been mostly controlled through shells and proxies, into the Morgan Industries umbrella. Then, in M.Y. 2160, Morgan's colony finally came into contact with other colonists. Although the Morganites had had sporadic radio contact with other colonies for some time, this was the first time that major commerce and travel between Morgan's colony and other factions was possible. In fact, Morgan's colony ended up being connected to both the Peacekeepers and the University almost simultaneously, and for some time served as one of the primary links between them. Morgan capitalized immensely on this strategic position, insuring that a significant fraction of all trade between the factions was conducted under his aegis. In addition, he immediately began to expand his business empire into the bases of the other factions. Morgan Industries proved quite capable in both the construction of large scale engineering enterprises and in small scale production capacities, and Morgan quickly doubled and redoubled the size of his company and his personal fortune.<br />At every turn, Morgan acted to use his wealth and political skills to gain influence in the other factions. He funded research grants for major University leaders, and backed Pravin Lal's peacekeeping initiaves whenever possible. He soon expanded beyond the University and the Peacekeepers, as advancing infrastructure soon brought all the factions into contact with one another. The desertion of the Cybernetic Consciousness section of his company has set him back somewhat in the computer technology sector, but Morgan is nothing if not resourcful, and he is quickly making up the difference. Morgan now has branches in almost every faction's bases, and his company is one of the backbones of the Planetary economy.<br /><br />Morgan Industries is democratic, but their democracy is based around the shareholder system, with more shares translating to more votes. Morgan himself has a slight majority share in Morgan Industries, the umbrella corporation that he uses to run his vast business empire. However, he does not usually have majority shares in other companies he controls, usually contenting himself with pluralies of the shares, and making sure that he has very solid controls on the members of the board and any other significant shareholders. Since the C^3 desertion, he has increased this policy, usually refusing to appoint any but the most fanatically loyal to high corporate positions, and making sure to have plans ready to counter any sudden buyout attempts of major subdivisions. Nonetheless, his lack of domination of boards, and his policy of granting stock options as part of bonuses and salaries means that the average Morgan Industries employee has a decent chance of having at least some say in how the corporation is run.<br />The Morganites are the most agressively free market faction on Planet. They believe that true economic efficiency only comes when all economic players are totally free from coercion. Morgan has encouraged this attitude, although it is not actually one he totally holds to himself. Morgan is quite happy to use his economic power to force out competitors through political means. However, he is always careful to conceal activities such as this, and the average Morgan Industries employee is a firm believer in free enterprise.<br />The Morganites primary social goal is, of course, wealth. The faction sees wealth as the key to success, happiness, and power. A Morgan Employee's social status is heavily linked to wealth, and few Morganites are unwilling to turn down an opportunity to make a credit. Morgan himself sees wealth as the key to eventually ruling Planet, and he intends to be the one to get that key, no matter how many competitors he has to agressively buy out in the process.<br />Morgan Industries is currently pursuing several lines of research designed to ultimately improve the human species, using a combination of genetic, cybernetic, and psionic technology. The average faction member is eagerly awaiting this prospect, and it promises to make the company even more wealthy.<br /><br />Morgan Industries has citizens who are amoung the wealthiest on Planet. The average Morgan employee is Wealthy, and the most rich have Multimillionaire 2. The company's research into human improvement promises to increase this to an even greater degree.<br />The Morganites are fairly efficient. Most corporate agents have a fair degree of freedom to make decisions, which reduces beauracracy. Also, Morgan believes in a strong recycling effort, to prevent unnessecary wastage.<br />Morgan Industries tends to grow fairly quickly. Many talented members of other factions want to join the company in order to get rich, and the high standard of living of the average faction member promotes a high birth rate. As the research into improving the human condition proceeds, this will probably increase to even higher levels.<br />Morgan Industries are only moderately productive on an industrial level. Currently, the company specializes in consultancy, providing talented managers for projects instituted by other factions. Nonetheless, Morganite goods are about 10% cheaper than the Planetary average, and most bases have at least a small Morgan Market, where various consumer products can be purchased. As Morgan's human improvement programs procede, Morgan Industries will probably be able to produce more, using fewer, more talented staff.<br />Morgan Industries employees are usually not particularly interested in combat training. The company has a strong "better to throw money then men at a problem", and this also leads to fairly poor morale in troops fielded by Morgan. As the human improvement is implemented, the general unwillingness to use violence will probably reduce this even further.<br />Unfortunately, Morgan tends to take a dim view of ecological concerns, and he very rarely takes protecting the native ecosystem into account when planning his actitivies. This means that fungus and mind worms tend to be a serious threat at the few bases that Morgan Industries actually controls, and Morganite projects usually have to deal with frequent attacks.<br />Morgan Industries imposes very vew controls over its employees. Only serious threats to security, such as dangerous weapons and heavy drugs, are forbidden.<br />The Morganites are strictly average when it comes to espianoge activities. They primarily focus on industrial espianoge, attempting to gain a commercial advantage by stealing new research and intercepting business plans. Morgan Industries has mediocre internal security, with few members of the company being truly fanatically loyal to it.<br />Morgan Industries is also about average in research. It generally relies on buying or stealing new research from other factions, then selling it as widely as possible, rather than making discoveries of its own.<br />Very few employees of Morgan Industries join the company's permanent military forces. The company only employs about 1.5% of its people in this manner. Generally, in the rare cases when Morgan goes to war, he bolsters his forces from allied factions and mercenaries.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1124154869949722502005-08-15T18:13:00.000-06:002005-08-18T22:54:15.360-06:00Some Faction ComparisonsJust thought I'd give the relative status of who's got what, social-factor-wise.<br /><br /><b>Economy:</b> The big winner here is Morgan Industries, with +4, meaning the average wealth in the faction is Wealthy, while the max wealthy is Multimilionarie 2. It's closely followed by C^3, with +3. The Peacekeepers and Spartans both have +2 each, while the Hive has +1. Most other factions have 0, while the Cult of Planet trails the pack with -1, meaning the average member is Struggling, while the max wealth is Comfortable.<br /><b>Efficiency:</b> A three way tie for winner here, with the Data Angels, the Nautilus Pirates, and the Cult of Planet all having +3. C^3, Gaia, Morgan, and Sparta follow up with +2. Meanwhile, the Free Drones, the Peacekeepers, and the University all have +1. The Hive is fairly beaureaucratic at -2, and the Lord's Believers win the Red Tape Race with -4. Still, clearly Planet society is, overall, not very entangled in the cursed crimson tape.<br /><b>Growth:</b> The Free Drones and, oddly, the University are the leaders here, with +4 (5%/year) each. (Must be the good medtech at the University. Lowers infant mortality.) C^3 is a close seconds with +3 (3.5%/year). The Lord's Believers, the Data Angels, Morgan, the Peacekeepers, and Sparta all have +2 (3%/year). The Human Hive has +1. Gaia and the Cult of Planet are both poor performers, with -2 (1%/year), while the Nautilus Pirates have the worst record, with -3 (.5%/year).<br /><b>Industry:</b> The Hive is the big winner in the industry sweepstakes, with +4 (a 40% discount!). The Free Drones follow it up with +3. C^3 has a respectable +2, and Morgan and the University both have +1. The Data Angels and the Peacekeepers are average at 0. The religous types, the Believers and the Cult, have -1. The Nautilus Pirates and Gaia are unproductive at -2. The big loser, however, is Sparta, with -3. Clearly, not giving any rewards to the plant managers is not paying off. No wonder they teamed up with the Free Drones to beat the Hive.<br /><b>Morale:</b> Sparta, unsurprisingly, has the best morale on Planet, with +4. No poorly trained troops there. The Believers, motivated by religous fervour, follow up with +3. The Peacekeepers and Nautilus Pirates are both well trained at +2. Gaia and the Cult are decent at +1. The Data Angels, Drones, and University are all average, with 0. C^3, the Hive, and Morgan are all rather badly motivated, with an uninspiring -2.<br /><b>Planet:</b> The Cult, big surprise, is the most touchy-feely hippie faction, with +4. Gaia is a close second with +3. Following them are the Nautilus Pirates, with +2. Then there's a gap, and we get C^3, The Angels, the Drones, and the University at 0. The Believers are a little sloppy, and get -1. Then another gap, and we come to the really messy factions, the Hive, Morgan, the Peacekeepers, and Sparta, all with -3.<br /><b>Police:</b> The most restrictive society on Planet turns out to be Gaia, with +1. The Believers, C^3, the Drones, the Human Hive, the Nautilus Pirates, the Cult, and the University are all fairly Canadian in their governement standards, with 0. The Data Angels are mildy permissive, with -1. Then, we get the libertarian factions, with Morgan, the Peacekeepers, and Sparta all at -2.<br /><b>Probe:</b> The Believers are the surprise winners here, with a probe score of +3. Most of the other factions have a score of 0, while the Drones live in a house with big windows, at a -2, and the University basically resides in a glass box, with a score of -4.<br /><b>Research:</b> To no-one's surprise, the University is the big reasearch winner, with +4. C^3 and the Angels follow up with +2 apiece. The rest have 0, except for the Luddites in the Believers, who weigh in at an utterly abysmal -4. Good thing they have that high probe, otherwise they'd never find out anything at all.<br /><b>Support:</b> A four-way tie on this one, with the Believers, Gaia, the Hive, and the Cult all having scores of +3 or higher, giving them a standing army of 5% of their population. Actually, the first three all have +4, while the Cult has +3, which may affect quality of support, I dunno. Anyway, we then have a big step to the Peacekeepers, the Nautilus Piriates, and Sparta, all with 0 (3% standing army). Another step takes us to C^3, the Angels, the Drones, and the University, all with -2 (2% standing army). Finally, Morgan trails the pack, with -3, giving him a 1.5% standing force.<br /><br />Issues: Primarily the Hive's low Police score. Not only does it lead to a radically different Hive, it also means that the faction will have a hard time getting in to outside conflict, due to protests from its citizens (not to mention the fact that its troops are crap).<br />The Police scores of both the Peacekeepers and the Spartans are also issues, because of the game's association of low Police and civic pacifism. Both factions really should be mixing it up with others, the Spartans just because and the Peacekeepers to spread the word about Love, Justice, and Freedom, so public protests don't go well with that. In the Spartan case at least, I think we should just drop that aspect of Police.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1124426963168249362005-08-18T20:05:00.000-06:002005-08-18T22:49:23.226-06:00The Human HiveNot crazy, just drunk. I kid, I kid. They're actually <i>high</i>...<br /><br />Also, just as a note: I'm reducing the penalty to Police from the Free Market choice from -5 to -2. That way, Police State and Free Market balance out, which makes <i>so</i> much more sense, IMO. Other posts have been edited to fit.<br /><br /><b>Chairman Yang</b><br /><br />Drop the Miliary Rank, give him the usual Administrative Rank 6 and Status 6. Other than that, he pretty much works as is.<br />For disadvantages, add Callous, I think.<br />Biography is basically the same.<br /><br />The Human Hive is a repressive police state based around furthering the ideology of its leader, Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang. Yang's basic philosophy is the same as that laid out for him in the game. However, Yang has chosen a somewhat different way of following it in this version of Alpha Centauri.<br /><br />The Hive is a police state. All decisions are made by Yang and his cadre of loyal followers, and the average citizens are expected to follow them without question or explanation. The Hive uses strong police forces and extensive secret police networks to insure obdience. Yang ruthlessly crushes disent or challenges to his rule.<br />Although its government is authoritarian, the Hive's economy is basically open. Yang believes that competition and struggle produce more benefit for society than a completely controlled economy. Yang actively encourages talented people to become more wealthy; while taxes are high for the wealthy, there are a plethora of other social benefits that are granted by economic success, and many faction members attempt to enter the business world. However, the Hive does not allow everyone to freely participate. A citizen of the Hive who wants to enter the world of free enterprise must first pass several apptitude tests, both practical and academic, and then serve a five-year apprenticeship with a successful economic leader (having access to such cheap help is one of the perks of economic success), before being allowed to participate in the economy on their own. Only about 10% of the Hive's citizens actually have the right to participate in the mangement of businesses. Regular citizens are allowed to purchase goods how and where they want, however (subject to legality restrictions, of course).<br />Yang has become convinced (particularly in light of recent military failures) that the route to true domination of Planet lies not in militarily overpowering his enemies, but by outcompeting them. For this reason, he has thrown open the Hive to the pursuit of wealth above all. The Hive uses its large population and strong industrial base to make itself invaluable to much of Planet's economic activies. Although it is not particularly advanced in technology, the Hive leads the world in production of cheap consumer goods, as well as providing labor and expertise for large-scale engineering projects.<br />Yang is directing his research goals towards both an impressive and a somewhat horrific future: he wishes to create a society where all the members support him unquestioningly. To that end, he encourages experiments in mind-controlling cybernetics, docilization drugs, the creation of obedient human subspecies, and the development of telepathy capable of controlling the masses.<br /><br />The average Hive citizen is actually somewhat more wealthy than the Planet average. Yang's pursuit of wealth has led to increased standards of living for his people.<br />The Hive, unfortunately, is definitely less than efficient. Yang's paranoia insures that very little can get done without a fairly great deal of paperwork and consultation of superiors. Also, the faction's large industrial production means that most citizens find it easier to throw out a worn out item rather than recycle or repair it.<br />The Hive has a growth rate somewhat higher than the Planetary average (2.5%/year) - the government heavily encourages large families, and the citizens are accustomed to cramped, low-privacy conditions.<br />The Hive's industrial sector is the most productive on Planet. Drones are forced to work long, hard shifts for no wages beyond their basic subsistence needs, while Talents in charge of factories have major incentives to be as productive as possible. This all combines to create a large quantity of cheap goods. Hive goods are, on average, 40% cheaper than average.<br />The Hive's average citizen has little training in combat, since Yang distrusts anyone with military abilities who are not in the military. Hive troops are usually conscripts from the drones, which means that Hive forces are usually poorly trained. However, as Yang's policies of thought control progress, and he becomes more willing to trust the average citizen, and the ranks of the military can be filled by specially designed combat beings, this is likely to improve.<br />Hive bases are often troubled by mind worms and fungus, as their major industrial work tends to have a heavy effect on Planet's ecosystem. The Hive has almost no native life units that they have bred themselves, and most Hive citizens deeply distrust the native life, prefering to remain in sheltered bases or armored vehicles whenever possible.<br />The Hive's government is somewhat restrictive. Taxes and laws are moderatly onerous. However, Yang is forced to give his Talents some degree of freedom if they are to prosper economically. Drones, however, have very few rights of any kind, and are harshly controlled. As Yang's dreams of total domination are realized, the controls imposed on his society will no doubt increase, however.<br />The Hive is only average in the intelligence area. Hive probe teams are heavily indoctrinated, but few have particulary impressive equipment. On the home front, drones are often motivated to try to help foreign agents in Hive bases, and only their relative lack of contact with sensistive material prevents this from becoming a major problem. However, as the thought control ideal is realized, spying on the Hive will become more difficult, and Hive probe teams will have access to new techniques that will make them considerably better at espianoge themselves.<br />The Hive is average in the research game, neither leading the pack nor trailing the herd.<br />Yang maintains a large standing army, almost 5% of the population, primarily as a hedge against internal dissent. As his mind control plans progress, the size of this army will probably decrease as Yang's paranoia is reduced.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9692550.post-1124318913490310782005-08-17T14:14:00.000-06:002005-08-17T16:48:33.526-06:00Gaia's StepdaughtersThe first of the <i>crazy</i> factions...<br /><br /><b>Lady Deirdre Skye</b><br />Oh, she's gonna need changes...<br />First, for advantages, add Administrative Rank 6 (Leader of the Gaians) and Status 6 (head of a major faction), and Mind Worm Sympathy. Drop the Military Rank, as usual.<br />For Disadvantages, pretty much drop everything she's got right now. Replace them with Callous [-5], Delusion (The command staff of the Unity, and their successors, has always been plotting against me) [-10], Delusion (I am a transendent deity, trapped in human flesh), Intolerance (All other factions) [-15], Megalomania [-10], Odious Personal Habit (takes her bonded mind worm boil <i>everywhere</i>) [-15], Paranoia [-10], and Stubbornness [-5].<br />Skills are fine.<br />Biography-wise, tone down her devotion to ecology. Deirde is far less mystical about it than standard. Basically, she realizes that screwing up the ecology is a very stupid move, <i>especially</i> on Planet, where the ecology is more than capable of fighting back. She intends to live forever, and she wants a nice place to do it in.<br /><br />The Gaians have had one of the most difficult roads of any of the "First Factions", those descended from the original Unity landings. Deirdre had always been somewhat marginalized during the voyage to Alpha Centauri; her insistence that the colony's first steps had to be made in tune with the new ecosystem were regarded as fanatical ravings by most of the "hard" scientists and engineers, who did not want to delay their initial colonization efforts while the biologists made extensive surveys. Of the high command of the Unity, Miriam and Zakharov were the most hostile, Miriam because of her religious feelings that humanity had the right to exploit Planet, and Zakharov because of his personal prejudices, both against biologists and women. Santiago used Deirdre several times as a scapegoat for covert Spartan activites. Pravin Lal noticed the large amount of tension between the ecological and colonization factions, and blamed Deirdre. Only Captain Garland and Chairman Yang were at all supportive of Deirdre, Garland because he trusted her, and Yang because he distrusted Santiago.<br />During the Landing crisis, Deirdre was consitently given second priority. Even after she found herself in command of a landing pod, her requests for telemetry data were ignored, and she was forced to calculate a course on her own. The Gaian landing pod ended up in the far north of Planet's major continent. Only last minute course corrections prevented the pod from overshooting the landmass entirely and landing in the Great Northern Ocean. Even though that disaster was narrowly averted, the pod did land in distinctly disadvantageous circumstances, on an island just off the northern coast.<br />The first few years of the Gaian colony were extremely difficult. The climate of their landing site was harsh, buffeted by storms, and the available resources on the newly-named Nova Terra Isle were scanty and hard to acquire. Dierdre nonetheless insisted on her policy of carefully examining the native ecosystem before making any sigificant changes. Several times, she had to deal with revolts, as colonists refused to follow her directives. Eventually, the Gaians built up enough infrastructure to escape Nova Terra and begin serious colonization of the mainland, but even then, progress was slow.<br />However, Dierdre's policies finally paid off, as Gaian colonists finally came in contact with xenofungus, and its accompanying mind worms. Because of their ecological consciousness, mindworms almost never caused problems in their bases. And then, in a fateful encounter, Dierdre made one of Planet's great discoveries. She was inspecting an outlying base near several patches of xenofungus, investigating accusations that the base commander had been less than rigorous in her care for the native life. The accusations proved quite true, and even as Dierdre made a personal check of the fungal mats, a mind worm boil errupted. Her underlings fled in terror, but Dierdre froze, paralyzed with terror. However, the mindworms not only did not harm her, they actively defended her. When an underling attempted to level a flamer at the boil, thinking Dierdre already dead, the mindworms swarmed and consumed him in a matter of seconds.<br />After the first few seconds of shock and fright, Dierdre discovered something even more fascinating: she could <i>hear</i> the mind worms - not in any sort of human speech, but in a sort of low level chatter that she could nonetheless interpret. She then attempted what would later go down as a historic first: she stretched out her empathic sense, which she had always used to "read" humans, and tried to contact the mindworms. The effect was startling. The mindworms sensed her contact and reacted, making Dierdre, for a second, a part of their gestalt mind. Even after Dierdre dropped out of contact, she found herself able to give the boil orders and sense its attitude. The Gaians had tamed, for the first time in Planet's history, a native life form.<br />Deirdre, however, was not unaffected by the brief contact with the mind worms. Touching the alien synthesis had exacerbated some of the mental imbalances and bitterness she had been dealing with since Landing. She came out of the gestalt firmly convinced that she was a nascent deity, limited only by her frail human flesh, and that all her old enemies were trying to prevent her apothesis. These new attitudes colored all her subsequent reactions to other factions. Only Yang has thus far managed to get on her good side, mostly by constantly playing up to her delusions whenever they meet.<br /><br />The Gaians are under a fairly ruthless military dictatorship. Dierdre is extremely paranoid of everyone, and her own underlings are no exception. Gaian bases are partolled by military units, and have extensive secret police forces. Dierdre makes extensive use of telepaths for the secret police forces, and mind worms are often used as police units to prevent rebellion.<br />Gaian economic policy is agressively environmental. Strict laws enforce extensive environmental impact studies before <i>any</i> alteration of Planet is made. Industries are forced to be as non-polluting as possible, and terraforming is minimal. Whenever possible, Gaians work with Planet, not against it.<br />Led by Dierdre, the basic Gaian philosophy is that they have the right to rule all of Planet. To this end, they actively pursue military and political power. Whenever possible, the Gaians act to expand their hegemony. Dierdre becomes very upset whenever any source of power is lost to her, and intently pursues its recovery and revenge for its loss.<br />The Gaians have begun to pursue a policy of cybernetic and genetic improvement of their citizens, aimed at making the faction an idealized version of humanity. Dierdre has visions of herself as the goddess ruling over a utopian world of superhumanity.<br /><br />The Gaians have average wealth for Planet. Faction members make money, but few are allowed to make too much, in case they become able to threaten Dierdre's control. However, as Dierdre's goal of converting the faction into superhumanity progresses, the average wealth seems set to rise.<br />The Gaians are fairly efficient. Although their restrictive society lends itself to red tape and hassle, the Gaians' heavy use of telepaths in high offices tends to speed communication and prevent misunderstanding. Also, the ecological ideology of the faction ensures a high standard of recycling and good maintenence is kept up.<br />Gaian bases tend to grow fairly slowly, at a rate of only 1%/year. Their insistence on low environmental impact means that appropriate facilities for large numbers of children are hard to come by. As the Gaian population is subjected to Dierdre's improvement policies, however, the growth rate may increase somewhat.<br />Currently, Gaian industry lags behind that of the Planetary average. Their focus on military power means that fewer resources and skilled workers are available for industrial work. As the Gaian human improvement schemes progress, this is likely to change, as more efficient production techniques are put into place.<br />Gaian troops are fairly reasonable, with decent training. The number of Gaians with military training is slightly higher than the Planetary average. However, the Gaian program of human improvement is degrading their training programs, as the improved humans are often unwilling to use violence.<br />The Gaians have an excellent rapport with Planet's native life and ecosystem. Many Gaians have a strange bond with the mind worms, and Gaian bases are very rarely attacked. Gaian forces often include a large number of controlled mind worms as part of their weapons.<br />Gaian society is fairly restrictive, with few personal liberties permitted. Communications, weapons, and other technology are all strictly controlled by the government. Taxes are high, and punishments for lawbreaking are severe. Gaian society has the death penalty, and death sentences often involve being fed to mind worm boils, or being used to test new telepathic attack techniques.<br />The Gaians have about average intelligence and counter-intelligence services. Their spies are reaonsably dedicated, but few have truly cutting-edge equipment. The Gaian populace has only normal amounts of dedication to Dierdre's ideology. Most faction members agree with the ecological values of the faction, but much fewer are on board with Dierdre's schemes for godhood.<br />Gaian research programs keep pace with the Planetary average, but are not particularly stellar. They tend to focus on biological and telepathic advances over more engineering-oriented technologies.<br />The Gaian military is quite large by Planetary standards, with more than 5% of their population forming a standing force. Dierdre's paranoia lead her to insure that the Gaians are always ready to meet enemy forces with a strong counterattack, or to immediately sieze advantage of a weak point.Kelly Pedersenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01672569519417836916noreply@blogger.com5