The Vault of Freakish Creativity

Away!!

2006-07-04T10:48:00.000-07:00

This is the last post I'm ever going to make on this blog. Ever.
The reason being that I'm going to Colorado and a few other western states for a vacation, and when I get back I'm going to switch this whole blog over to Wordpress.

Goodbye, Blogger. I won't miss you.

Crossing Over

2006-06-30T13:29:00.000-07:00

So, within the next week or so, this blog is going to see some major changes. I'm switching the blog service from Blogger to WordPress, because WordPress has a better RSS system and a categorization system. It'll also let me be more flexible with entries. Not too much should change (I will have to update my bookmarks), but it's a large even in the history of this blog.

Nothing creative for now. Just letting you guys know.

A Game Idea

2006-06-29T12:30:00.000-07:00

A few musings before I really get into the homogenized, pesticide-ridden meat of this blog. First is that I've noticed that this has changed from my "Zalamar-Urallia-Europa" blog to my "ideas" blog. Not that it's a bad thing... in fact, I think it's great. I'm ecstatic.
Second, Battlestar Galactica is awesome. Just letting all my loyal subjects know.

And now, the blog. I had an idea for an RTS today, and now I'm almost as pumped as I was about the WWI steampunk idea (which is coming along swimmingly, thank you). The idea is this: an RTS with entirely player-created content. I'll admit I stole a little from Spore, but I've elaborated a bit more. It's also just strategy... none of that silly socializing and raising tribes and stuff. Just war a la Rise of Nations.
So the idea is this: You'd have an editor very similar to Spore's, but probably a little more restrictive more design's sake. In this, you'd build your basic worker unit using the "clay" idea, and then give it accessories like pickaxes, clothes, and possibly manacles. From there, you'd have them build your main building, which you'd then with the same basic clay form. You'd be able to give it attributes (what kind of bonuses it can build), and then you'd decide on your basic trooper from a few selections (long-ranged, melee, or something else) and model those. Now, this sounds a little boring, but here's where the interesting part comes in. The soldiers advance procedurally based on their appearance and basic abilities. From here you can decide on how your main camp expands (city-based, like Rise of Legends or camp-based, like Warcraft III), what your other buildings can produce and what your other, more specialized soldiers are. Everything in this game would advance based on appearance and starting abilities, including the buildings and the workers. You'd be able to save races that you liked, and at any time during their evolution you'd be able to tweak little things. It seems like a cross between Black & White, Warcraft, Spore and Pokémon. Genius, wouldn't you say?

I wonder if I could pitch this and get it made...

PLOTBUNNY! PLOTBUNNY!

2006-06-22T19:41:00.000-07:00

So I was just reading the PDF version of the opening pages of the Steampunk supplement for the GURPS rolplaying system. And I read that advanced mechanics had been developing all through the 19th century. And I thought about what would happen if World War I had steampunk technology. And now there's a plotbunny the size of a turkey gnawing on my brain. I also just played Rise of Legends at a gaming place, which is an RTS based on Rise of Nations with a crazy steampunk race in it. Steampunk is currently the main thinking part of my brain.
So what would a WWI steampunk thing be like? Well, tanks and mechanized warfare would be nothing new. Cavalry would be useless, unless it was also mechanized, like steam-powered spider machines or something. With guns. Robots would be in there too. Because robots are cool. Big mechanical steam-powered clockwork guys with guns on their arms.
I figure what happened was that during the Italian Renaissance and the subsequent enlightenment of Europe, Da Vinci's inventions became much better known, and eventually
Newton came into public knowledge that way as well, but the Industrial Revolution was longer-lived and continued alongside the wars and maneuvering that brought Europe into the Great War. So we have to suspend physics in some sense, because Da Vinci's flying machines can't realistically work, but we can more than make up for that with sheer awesomeness.
The naavies are highly mechanized, the Ottoman Empire has light tanks and fast spiders for desert combat and maneuvering, Imperial Russia has enormous snow-walkers that melt the ice with their steam, Great Britain has a huge armada of steam powered dreadnoughts, Germany and France have legions of high-tech soldiers backed up by masses of robots. The stage is set.
I figure what I'll have to do is research WWI history, pick out a battle to write about, write a short story concerning that, and then turn it into a campaign setting.
Woo, I'm pumped. This is so awesome...

World-Building Week #5

2006-06-18T14:29:00.000-07:00

Alright, today should be shorter because I understand this more, and because the north has less culture diversity than the north.

As a matter of fact I've basically covered all of their real cultural aspects in the third post. Which would make me basically done. But I already know you guys wouldn't take that. I've already built up too much suspense about the end of the long-awaited world-building week. Well, put your axes away, because I'm doing an encore.

Let's talk about magic. I haven't really considered doing a magic system until now, and now it's because I've basically decided to use this world as an RPG campaign setting. I need mages for wimps who like to do girly things like restructure the laws of physics with their fingers. Hah. Anyway, let's get started.

Magic is impossible, so I'll have to do away with a lot of my trademark realism. Not all of it, though. Hopefully I can keep some of the good science aspect of other settings I'v done here. First I need a source. What can I use? Well, we can set two different types of magic: northern and southern. Southern magic is probably more scholarly and wise, whereas northern magic is more intuitive and creative. There's also barbarian magic, for the tribes that exist in the far west and north, but I don't care about them. Ha ha.

Southern magic's source is some kind of spirit or demon. None of the mages know quite what it is, but it's somewhere below the crust of the earth and it's not friendly. Probably chained up there in some ancient spirit war. Well, that's actually a terrible backstory, so scratch that. Some things are better left unkown. Anyway, this way if you use up all your MP, you die. The thing sucks you into it's demonic home and you're totally destroyed. Magic that comes from is basically raw power that can be altered to suit the mage's needs in any way, whether it be summoning objects or altering someone's appearance. However, that way is really, incredibly hard to do. Often it backfires and you end with a spine the size of a whale and an inside-out face. More common is getting a ridiculously powerful mage to do something with the raw magic and then entrapping that in a scroll. When the scroll is used, the effect is reproduced. The mage summons power from the thing, and then use the scroll to create the effect.

Northern magic is different. The northerners are superstitious about summoning energy from, as they call it, a demon, and they've devised a method that relies on personal power. There's residue from the demon left over everywhere, and it logically appears in varying amounts in every person. Therefore, if one person has a lot of this magic energy in their body they can too ridiculous things with it at no risk other than personal exhaustion. However, most people don't have that kind of power, and can only do easy things like make spots on walls (heh), and that takes a lot of training. Kind of like wizards vs. sorcerers in DnD, only not totally overdone and annoying.

I'm happy now. That about wraps up WBW. Maybe I'll do another one next year. It could come to be an annual Vault tradition. I'd be up to my ears in campaign settings! That sounds great! Giddy! Whoo-hoo!

...God, I'm tired.

World-Building Week #4

2006-06-17T12:58:00.000-07:00

Let's talk about culture. I want a sort of pseudo-European style for this, but not the generic "hundred years war" era. I think what I have going on right now works better as a sort of Roman Empire-era world, so I'll go with that. Besides, cultures were cooler then. (Carthage! Yaay!)
However, I really don't want a straight ripoff of existing cultures, or even an amalgamation of existing ones, because those are unoriginal and annoying.

So I'll start with the Scenesians. They're the first major empire, so it stands to reason that they would have a fairly complex system, seeing as it's evolved over time. They're situated mostly over a central grassland with a small swamp nearby and three major rivers on their borders (for the record, the rivers are neutral territory, and trading is happy between most countries except the Scenesians and Mavirites). Well, for the grassland we can assume that's where most stuff is, because it's their heartland. We can assume as well that aspects of their culture come from it, which would make them tanned and hardy, as well as good horsemen. There's something: they have good cavalry. I can now talk about the might of the Scenesian cavalry force used in the Battle of Astrian's Crossing, or somesuch. Their lifestyle is probably pretty opulent, as they're super-rich, and they've probably got acres of good farmland to feed their nobles and soldiers. Also, they evolved from a much older culture, which occurred towards the western border, so they probably have a well-developed religion and a set of ancient pilgrimage-style temples in the west. Their clothing is probably not too formal, except for nobles, who don't venture outside into the hot sun of the grassland too often and can let themselves wear heavy clothing. For their military, they probably don't wear too much armor, as their strategies are probably decently similar to blitzkrieg and revolve around getting a lightly-equipped cavalry force into the enemies' heart and then supporting with light infantry. They have a very fast-moving army. Not too much long-range.

That last paragraph is long. This is going to take longer than a week.

I'll go with the Mavirites next. These guys do have a decent culture besides being pissed off. What geological features do they have? Well, they have a seashore, whereas Scenesia is landlocked, and they have a large forest. So I'll say they originated in the forest, which would make them hunter-gatherers to start with. (The Novaya-Zemlyans from Sandman spring to mind). The forest is deciduous and temperate, and therefore probably well-populated, so they're kind of barbaric from having to fight off animals all the time. Not uncivilized, but violent. Maybe they have a kind of fierce bushido, where a Mavirite would be allowed to attack someone who insulted him without any real consequences. Sounds good. They also developed in a forest, so they probably have darker hair, and they're probably slighter than the Scenesians. They probably have a good long-range army, nice for resisting sieges and picking off cavalry from far away, which would explain how they could break away from the Scenesians; they'd just wipe out incoming cavalry with their longbows and mop up the infantry. That couple with natural guerilla fighting springs to mind. Clothing is probably light enough to move fairly quickly, but heavy enough to stop the force of stray branches that get in the way. Their armies are probably centered around lightly-armored archer forces.

Carathan is hilly, and their only real geographical feature is the swamp, which nobody cares about. Carathan is also not the Carathal homeland; they originated on the southern fringes of the Scenesian grasslands. They don't know this, though. They rebelled against the Scenesians as a slave federation, not as a tributary nation like the Mavirites, so they're likely to have less homogeny going on. However, as a whole they're people who evolved in the temperate plains on the central souther plate. They're not really remarkable in a land-based way. We'll have to think of another way for them to become who they are. Well, they do have a really big seashore. That could be something, but they didn't originate on the seashore. Let's go with an outside influence. When they were invaded by the Scenesians, they resisted to the bitter end, only surredning when their capital was surrounded and beyond hope of rescue. As such, they're probably extremely proud of their heritage and their country, and they have a lot of old forts left over. Logically, they would have rebuilt them when they rebelled and were faced with a second invasion. It would make sense for their style of warfare to be defensive and based on forts. They logically would have very heavily equipped armies, probably with pikes and such. They sound too much like the Medieval French right now, so I'll make them heavily atheist, believing in the power of their own people to change things without any godly influence. Very esteemed, very egalitarian and righteous. Nice.

The Eruzuri Alliance is a ton of people. There are too many cultures to sift through all of them. They'll be skipped.

Cholada. Warlike, powerful, nasty Cholada. They originated in a desert, so they're definitely hardy. I don't want to make them too Arabic-seeming, so I'll say their tribe was one of the original five driven out, but they, being individualistic and rebellious, went to the east instead on the north and settled in the desert, basically to show they were tougher than everyone else. Probably also for some religious reason. Let's say their god rewards self-destruction for the good of the people. This would give them a strong monastic culture. They're also heavily seafaring and powerful in trade. Their armies are generally pretty versatile, not bad at any one thing, but not good either. The fact that they've been so successful against the Eruzuri probably has to do with good tactics and a really strong navy. They might be the next up-and-coming empire.

That's all for now. Next I'll do the north, and then I'll talk about magic.

World-Building Week #3

2006-06-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

So today we're concentrating on the northern reaches of the continent. We've already a got a bitter pseudo-European imperialist thing going on in the south, but the north is harder to live in, and we've already detailed that the cultures far to the north have banded together many times to help each other through burning summers and freezing winters. They're not as rich or influential as the southern powers, but they're also not as corrupt or amoral, and their armies, while less well-disciplined, are kind of like Norse berserkers, which is to say stronger on their own than most southern armies.
The furthest south country is "I," and they're the ones who stopped their migration in between the two huge mountain ranges. This has gone well for them; they're sheltered from a lot of the extreme weather in the northern reaches, and the climate in between the two mountain ranges is basically alpine: lots of nice pine forests and pretty lakes. However, the northern areas dislike them for stopping short of actually crossing the mountains. They're kind of alienated by most countries in the world, which has in turn made them kind of isolationist. I'll call them the Arestines, basically through taking a bunch of synonyms for "lucky" and "isolated."
Country F, the first one to arrive in the north, is simultaneously proud of surviving so long in the north on their own and humble for knowing they couldn't have lived much longer without country G there. They have access to two major waterways to trade with the Arestines and Choladans, and on the whole they're doing fairly well for the north, but they're still pretty rough around the edges. They're now known as the Isarians, from mangling... you guys are probably getting bored of etymologies by now, aren't you? I'll quit this.
Country G is Isari's major trading partner, and the second to arrive in the north. They have a huge border with the enormous desert to the north and the mountains to the south. There's not a whole lot to say about them that hasn't already been said about the Isarians. They're called the Supirians.
H is a bit different. They were the last to arrive, but they had no real territory that hadn't already been claimed, so they moved far to the north and ended up joining with a bunch of the tribes who had migrated ages ago and were primitively living in the desert. Their current southern border is fairly stable and civilized, but their north is barbaric and nasty. Plenty of clan wars and crap like that. Eww. Anyway, they're really the epitome of northern civilization, what with all the rampant barbarism. I'm calling them the Vurandoni.
Alright, I can't give you too much today. I'm tired and spacey. Tomorrow maybe I'll have gotten a good night's sleep and I can talk about capitals and magic.

Peace out.

World-Building Week #2

2006-06-15T11:23:00.000-07:00

And you thought I wouldn't make good on my post-per-day promise. Feh. Fancy English K'niggits.

Anyway, here's the next part of our world. Geographical areas.
So the color code is: pale yellow for desert, pale green for grassland, dark green for forest and yellow-green for swamps.

We have an enormous desert in the north, as well as an enormous grassland. The south has plenty of fertile-looking river valleys *cough* Fertile Crescent *cough*, and a decently-sized desert over on the eastern peninsula. I'm gonna say human life started over in the area between the two major southern rivers. Let's see what happened afterwards... I'm going to say that a bunch of tribes formed and started having wars. Numerous ones moved to the north, but most of them stayed in the south, which is starting to seem kind of like Europe (lots of little nations and too many wars). A few of these got really powerful and took over the other ones and had enormous wars over territory.
Meanwhile in the north, which is much more harsh, they often had to band together to stay alive, sharing food and resources. One of them stayed between the two mountain ranges. Let's see what I can put together at this period.Empire A doesn't know it, but they have the root of civilization on their western border. I'm going to say that they're the oldest, and used to control all of B and C's territory. They're kind of a shadow of their former selves, but they're still uber-powerful. Probably bitter about losing their old territory and trying as hard as possible to reclaim it. Probably pretty opulent, the empire probably has solid ivoryt statues in their capital city and whatnot. Now for a name: well, I used "shadow" before. What's a cool synonym for shadow? Hmm... scintilla. Now, as much as I'd like to call them the Scintillan Empire, that's too obvious. I'll mangle it some. I'll splice it with "genesis," a synonym for "beginning." The Scenesian Empire. Shwanky. I like that.

Empire B was the first to rebel. They're upstart buggers who probably hate the Scenesians' guts. They're the third-youngest, and the smallest. I'm going to make them heavily militaristic, kind of like an empire with a Napoléon complex. Let's see about a name. Well, "maverick" is a nice word for "rebel." Let's see what else they are. Militaristic. Hmm... I'll go with "anger" for that one, and I can switch that with "ire." The Mavirite Empire. Sweet.

Empire C was the second, and they're a bit different. They're more righteous and pro-civil rights. Let's say they were enslaved by the Scenesians, so they rebelled and formed their own nation. They've got a lot of honor and loyalty stuff going on, and they don't believe in slaves. What can I do for a name? Let's merge "thrall," a synonym for "slave," with "knight." I'll cut the "K" and replace it with a "C", because K's bring barbarism to mind... how about the Carathal Empire. Brings "cathedral" to mind. They can be religious, too. Yay.

Empire D is nobody's ally, basically formed by a collection of tribes who were disgruntled with being under anyone's heel. They're now defensive and neutral, a lot like Switzerland. This is good, because it plays off of the expansionist nature of empire E. They're also more like a collection of peoples than one empire, so that word doesn't really apply. Let's call them the... whoah. Ecru, a "neutral" color (like beige), sounds good. I'll add Zurich to the mix and see what I get. The Eruzuri Alliance sounds great.

Empire E is violent and expansionist. They were sidelined when the Scenesians first came to power, and now they're basically pissed at everyone. They're also the biggest, and they have an enormous fleet that can strike at nearly everyone through the bay. They're a bit like the early Ottoman Empire. This is not a good combination. However, they're kind of poverty-stricken from keeping all this warring up. Very large rich-poor divides. Let's combine "choler," a really old literary synonym for "anger" with "armada," a word for "navy." That would make them the Cholaradan Empire. I'll take out the O and L because they make it sound to much like cholera.
Choladan Empire.

I'll do the northern areas tomorrow, and then I can go into even more boring details. Hoo-rah.

Over and out.

World-Building Week #1

2006-06-14T12:50:00.000-07:00

So here's the story: school got out, and then I had to present a credo and read it off at the UU church I got, meaning I'm now officially an associate member. Cool.
So now I've got summer vacation, and I'm semi-sick, which means I have too much spare time. I need to post something because I'm bored, so I figured, why not just go all the way? I'm hoping for this week (or however long it takes) to be an unparalelled burst of creativity: I'm going to create an entire world history in a week (or however long it takes). I'll hopefully post once every day from now on. So let's get started. I'm going into this with absolutely no prior ideas about what to put down. First, let's have a world, which should appear somewhere on this post, because of Blogger's iffy image system.

Ding! I'm done. Made in like 3 minutes in the GIMP. Next I need elevation lines.There we are. These are the areas of highest elevation on the continent. Looks like there are two tectonic plates coming together in the center, which would lead to big ol' mountains. Maybe that little Baja California shaped peninsula in the southwest is part of another plate. Whatever. Anyway, we need rivers now.

Alright. These are the major rivers. It looks like there are two waterways across the huge mountains, and a lot of the areas on the northern half of the continent are fairly parched. Maybe a desert or a steppe. The south looks pretty fertile, except for the peninsulas. The giant Hudson-bay type bay looks like a big trade center, and controlling that center island in the straits could be crucial for war.

Next week: history and geographical areas.

Blyrgh...

2006-06-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

Letting you people know I'm still, y'know, alive. I just got out of school, and today I became officially a man at the UU Church. (What this means is that I read off a credo to the congregation, and then I signed a book.)

Anyway, I'm pretty burned out right now. I probably won't post much until after flag day. One thing though: I've discovered a new anime and it's frickin' awesome. Samurai 7, a retelling of Seven Samurai (my favorite movie of all time), with crazy cyber/steampunk technology. By the GONZO, the makers of Last Exile, another awesome anime (not to mention Blue Submarine No. 6, Hellsing and Full Metal Panic, all of which are pretty famous), which double its awesome rating.

I'm going to play Metroid Prime now. Peace out.

Why Animators Are Allowed To Charge 75 Dollars Per Minute of Animation

2006-05-30T16:42:00.002-07:00

(Max here)

Matt Wilson, an animator, charges 75 dollars for each minute of animation commissioned. You might say that it's ridiculous to charge that much. It's not. Matt Wilson's time is worth more than most people's time. Matt Wilson can do a lot of incredible things with his incredible talents. Making your cartoons for you isn't the best thing he could do with his time.

Because Matt Wilson has the ability to do incredible things, when you pay Matt Wilson for the minute of animation he made, you are paying him back for the half-hour it took him to make the minute of animation, a half hour that could have been spent on something cool, like Matt Wilson's own upcoming series, The School Show Starring School, instead of your most likely less-than-stellar cartoon.

Matt Wilson could be making a great cartoon by himself. He could give the world a wondrous piece of art. But, that wouldn't generate any money for him. I'm not saying that Matt Wilson is a scrooge. Animation is what he does. If you were an accountant and could account very well, would you do it in your spare time, just to be a good accountant, or would you do it for money, during the day?

But enough about Matt Wilson and accounting. Animation is a valued skill. It can be used to create great works of art, like Matt Wilson does, or it can be used to create sick, stupid cartoons for violent ten year-olds, like 67% of the internet does. But that discussion is for a different time.

Lack of money plagues good animators everywhere. That isn't to say that all good animators are poor, though. Look at Homestar Runner. They have a great, amusing cartoon and even managed to make it family-friendly. They get viewers in college all the way down to elementary school, and everyone is happy. They are successful, good animators.

Matt Wilson, on the other hand, had to cancel Bonus Stage, his last work, because of financial problems of his family. He is a great animator, but has little merchandise, and of the small bit of merchandise he has, little is bought. Animators need the 75 dollars per minute of animation.

(I, however, only charge $10 per minute of animation... *cough*)

Timmy The Whale

2006-05-27T12:23:00.000-07:00

(Max here)

This is a re-design document that I wrote up for Timmy The Whale. I'm not sure how much sense it will make.

Premise

70% of Earth is covered in water, so, logically, 70% of everything that happens on Earth happens underwater, right?

Timmy The Whale takes place in an underwater apartment. Timmy and his roommate Fred search the seven seas each week for their weekly rent of sixty dollars, encountering all types of crazy adventures along the way. They find marooned aliens that crash landed into the water, because the water was a much larger target than the land, creatures of the deep, technological and biological phenomena, pollution, employment and who knows what else. Needless to say, these adventures very rarely give them rent.

Everyone in the apartment is living there because they can live in a cheap space and do pretty much whatever they want.

Characters

Timmy The Whale

Timmy is just your average college drop-out whale living in an underwater apartment with other fish, aliens, and who knows what. A pretty generic character. He’d be the most likely candidate for straight man of the show.

In relation to other cartoons, I’d say that Timmy is more like Strong Sad than he is like Phil, but he resembles both of them in his personality. He has a flare for the ridiculous, akin to Phil in the later episodes of The Canceled Show, but still has some sort of common sense, like Strong Sad. Also like Strong Sad, he enjoys strange cult phenomena, such as the up-and-coming (fictional) band “Steampunk Jesus.” He has a Steampunk Jesus poster in his room.

Timmy’s motivation for being in the apartment is just to find a cheap living space to live in, which the apartment definitely is. Timmy also has a curiosity for adventure, which the apartment certainly has. In most of the episodes where Timmy and Fred go adventuring Timmy is the one to push for the adventuring to happen.

Fred The Roommate Fish

Fred is a bit of a generic college-drop-out-wake-up-at-five-in-the-afternoon-likes-pizza type character. He often causes problems with the adventures that Timmy and Fred go on. For example, let’s say that they find a bunch of pollution in the water, Fred probably bought a Twinkie factory earlier that day, and had it moved to the ocean... for convenience. Not only do his charades cause problems, but debt also. Fred is a consumer.

In relation to other cartoons, Fred is probably like a cross between Craig (*snicker*) and Joel. There is probably some genius deep within Fred’s soul, but you’d have to dig pretty deep to find it. Fred’s motivation for living in the apartment is like the rest of the cast: cheap housing.

Zok The Zok From Planet Zok

Zok is a tentacled alien that crash lands in the ocean in the first episode on his way to Alpha Centauri for a mission of conquest. He sounds strangely British. Timmy and Fred investigate the crash scene. They take him back to the apartment, where he now lives. He is interested in science and often tries to build experimental spacecraft. His people, after losing contact with him for a year, seek him out eventually, in the (hopefully existing) second season.

In relation to the show, Zok is the River Tam, in that he makes problems (and plots) for the show just because of what he is, and yet they still keep him. Except this time it’s out of laziness rather than out of compassion.

The Landlord

The Landlord sits in his room all day and listens to the same Beatles song over and over again. This song is still in consideration, whether it will be Glass Onion or not is unknown. He has a strange blond afro, glasses, and is pretty much a generic seventies classic rock fanatic. Except he’s a whale.

Other Characters

I kind of want to work in Hamyaro and the Showbiz Turkey somewhere into the mix, even if they aren’t in the apartment. I was thinking that the Showbiz Turkey might open up a cinema across the street from the apartment, or it just might be there one day and the gang would go check it out. Hamyaro is a mystery though. At least at this point. I haven’t put that much thought into his position yet.

Plans For The Future

Most episodes of Timmy The Whale, at least the episodes after the pilot, will follow one of these formulas:

Something bad happens, they investigate, it was Fred.
Something bad happens, they investigate, it was a villain.
Something bad happens, they investigate, they somehow get rent.
Fred does something stupid, they try to fix it.

That’s not to say that all of the episodes will be formulaic. I hate formulaic. “Most” was probably a bad term to use. Other episodes will be part of story arcs, often involving Zok or new characters.

Pilot Episode

No script yet, but I’m going to use a lot of the gags from the old prototype (“Opposite of Tuesday” comes to mind). The style of the humor will be different. Rather than just gag after gag after gag the humor will be worked into the plots, rather than the plots just being gags (“Downloading the rent” comes to mind). That’s not to say that the plots won’t be humorous, though. They’ll be funny, but not just gag after gag. Gag after gag is funny, but I don’t think it would’ve worked in the long term.

The Physics Department

2006-05-25T19:14:00.000-07:00

I had an idea for a webcomic a little while ago, and it might actually get made. I have a scanner that might work sometime soon, and a detailed bunch of character designs. Let me tell you about them. Hee hee.

The webcomic is called "The Physics Department," and it's based around two characters - The Most Honored Executive Concluding High Justice First Degree of Physics Phralan Xor'tanar, and his assistand Angus. They're aliens, or gods, or something, who work at the judicial arm of the Parliament of Existence, which is where the four Forces ratify and change the Laws of Physics. Funny set-up, eh? Now here's the catch: Most webcomics have a stupid CAH-RAZY character and a smart bitter character. This webcomic has two smart bitter characters in a world of virtually nothing but stupid characters and CAH-RAZY characters. Not stupid and CAH-RAZY, though.

So Phralan's job entails that he judges the highest-up cases of science violation in the whole of the universe. His assistant, Angus, brings him coffee, eases the blows of stupidity, and generally provides a single spark of intellect in this universe of total morons. Other characters include:

Boss - It's not quite clear how Phralan can have a boss, being the most powerful judge in the universe, but he's it. He's also hyper-enthusiastic, unobservant, and most of all, creepy. Really, really creepy.
Robert Heinlein - One of two humans working at the Physics Department, he specializes in Science Violation in Fiction. He's also one of the most well-known science fiction writers on his home planet. Funny coincidence.
Ernest Shrödinger - The other human, he's technically the Theoretical Physics Supervisor at the Department, but really all he does is stare at a box with a cyanide vent and a cat inside of it, thinking.
Albert Einstein - He retired last year. He now spends most of his time living on a private estate on a terraformed moon.
George Lucas - He's the director of Star Wars, and he also has a list of science violations twice as high as him sitting on Heinlein's desk. (Seriously. Banking in SPACE?)
The Parliament - Not so much a character as a collection, the four Forces have numerous delegates in the Parliament, who intermittently mingle with Phralan and Angus, giving them jobs and such. The Department is so undermanned that Phralan and Angus end up having to do field work almost all the time.

I'm also probably going to include Richard Feynman, the Doctor, and maybe some other famous physicists or SF writers/characters, but I'm not sure how to fit them in. Anyway, my idea for the comic is for it to appeal to David Morgan-Mar and Andy Weir. They're the writers of Irregular Webcomic! and Casey and Andy, respectively. Not just them, I mean, but geeks who like science. People who can rattle off every Dalek episode of Doctor Who and quote Niels Bohr in the same breath.

Meh...

2006-05-22T17:24:00.000-07:00

So I've decided to start on the sequel to Ruin. Ruin still needs some editing, especially in the last bit, but it's incredibly wordy, and I've realized that the creativity will leak into some other project, like:

Not a Zombie
The Criminal
The Tree (undetailed)
After the End
Suremsal
Zalamar
Europa
Urallia
Oceanic Empire

I have a lot of ideas...

Anyway. It's going to start off very, very dark. The Viridian Crusade headquarters interrogation room is not a nice place to be. My idea is to make the reader feel very sorry for the two characters while they're being tortured, and then work up to you guys really wanting the escape attempt to work, and then to be torn up when only Elea escapes. Very dark.

Afterwards, focus will shift to Valens, as he pulls an Anakin and gets switched over to the Viridian Crusade side, but (here's the tricky part) I don't want you to get angry at him or think of him as a tragic hero. That's bad... I want you to understand the Crusade's position on the conflict and come to terms with it, realizing that they're not the bad guys. He gets handed over to Szavren by Andel, who then disappears out of my head for a bit.

I'm not sure what I'll do with Elea. After the fall of Volana, she's obviously pretty broken up, but the battle was a near-miss on the Crusade's part, so there were a lot of survivors. She's going to have to lose her innocence somehow, but I'm not sure how. Probably through combat training at Eskynd Falls (which is my name for the new Rebellion hideout). I kind of want her to become a Kia to Valens's Takami (not that anyone will get that reference), but I still want her to be likeable, as her story is largely going to be carried by her and Moneli, and we all know he's a pretty nasty guy.

And I still don't know what to do with Talodei.

Super Battleship!!!

2006-05-17T20:18:00.000-07:00

Battleship is awesome. We're doing a linear equations unit in math at school, and for our end-of-year "fun" project, we're doing a variant on Battleship.

But it got me thinking. My first idea was that it would be more realistic, and that you could have bombers and fighters and cards and such, but the idea quickly spiralled out of control, and what I have now is a distorted merger of Risk, and Battleship.

Here it is in its entirety. Battleship, with cards, a few small islands on each board, and one large island built up of randomly chosen squares, a la Carcassonne, in the middle as neutral territory. The cards are:

Bombers
Fighters
Radar Upgrades
Supplies

Bombers allow you to take three strikes in a line for the turn you play them. Fighters can counter bombers, so you hold them until you have a bombing raid. Card drawing is hidden. When a bombing raid happens, fighters can neatralize the bombers, but if the attacking player has fighters of their own, they can use those. The player with the most fighters wins. If they have the same amount, a dice roll is in order, on the defender's terms, a la Risk.

Taking the small islands would be mean one turn of not shooting, but for every turn after that there would be two shots to take. Of course, islands only have one hit point and can be attacked like anything else.

Getting radar upgrades would allow you to find more exactly where you had hit a boat when using a linear strike, like a bombing raid. Ordinarily, you would say, "E3, E7, E8" and the other person would say, "one hit," but with radar upgrades they would have to say a progressively smaller area adjacent to the hit.

Supplies would allow you to build weapons platforms on the big island, resulting in more shots taken. The big neutral island is fair game to anyone, and you can deposit two arnies per turn on it. They then duke it out a la Risk.

I'm really liking this idea. It is, of course, way too complicated for any sane board game geek to like, but it seems really interested?

KISS? I spit upon you. Fwa-ha-hah.

Clockworld: Campaign Setting

2006-05-16T18:48:00.000-07:00

It would well and truly make a great campaign setting. Needs a cooler name, though. Chronotis is taken, but it would be cool to revert to the original Greek spelling. Khronos... okay... I could make a veiled Zalamath reference in here, so it would be Khronomar.

Sounds good. Now, my idea for this is that the technology will be similar to Diazim technology (See Suremsal), so we'll have Civil War-era sabers and maybe guns, but also some near-future things. I'm thinking the cities will be a lot like Midgard, from Final Fantasy VII, with a dark steam/cyberpunk style.

I want the Face to feel like Halo. Epic, huge, tremendous. Grass has probably grown in on the edge, but it would take a long time for white marble to crack away. There would be enormous Roman numerals all over the Face, to mark the time. The Arms would sweep over all the time, and you'd be able to see the second hand rush towards you and past you, although it would probably measure time slower.

I don't know about races. Maybe I'll have them, or maybe not. I'm not thinking on that right now. Classes, no. I'm having class kits that the player can choose if they want, but overall it'll be skill point and trait-based. Very open-ended, multiclassing based.

A-lookin' pretty nice.

A Play?

2006-05-14T18:49:00.000-07:00

Wel, Macbeth went over really well. Thanks to Max for coming to see it, although I had a really minor role. (Also, thanks to Sophie, Aiyana, Joe, Eliana and Jennifer, but you don't read this, so it doesn't really matter.) I think the performance was really awesome, and I did a pretty good job. People apparently thought we were all college students because it was that good. It makes me happy.

Since then, though, I've been wanting to write a play. I'm thinking it might take place in Hyrotyr, because I really need to flesh that out more and there's a lot of dramatic potential for it. Or it might be an adaptation of something, but I can't say wht it would be.

I also wrote a story for English class about an arsonist. It's a very short, very hammered-out thing, but I like the way it turned out. I'll post it here. The main character is very insane in a very cool way. I'm surprised I could get a story like that out of a forced language arts thing.

Anyway, this is just me letting you know that I'll probably be posting more frequently now that I can think hard for more than a minute without "The son of Duncan/ From whom this tyrant holds his due of birth/ Lives in the English court, and is receiv'd/ Of the most pious Edward with such grace/ that the malevolance of fortune nothing/ Takes from his high respect..." running through my head. 'Bye now.

Mission Impossible III

2006-05-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

I saw Mission Impossible III last night. It was a great movie. The story was told so well by the director, JJ Abrams (who will also be directing the next Star Trek movie). It was engaging, complex, sophisticated, and yet so fast-paced and action-filled. If Star Trek XI was like this, I wouldn't complain at all. I'd probably start cheering.

Not only was Tom Cruise incredible in that movie, the rest of the cast was great too. Phillip Seymour Hoffman's performance as Owen Davian, the main antagonist, was nothing less than stellar. I'm still happy that the Owen Davian died. That was a bitchin' death, too. More on the action later, though. Also appearing in this film was Billy Crudup, who appeared in Big Fish and voice-acted in the American release of Princess Mononoke, as the ally-revealed-as-enemy John Musgrave.

The cinematography was incredible in the movie, too. It started with an intense flash-forward scene, an ominous foreshadowing for the rest of the movie. The movie was a balance of dolley-driven complex motion scenes and handheld. Some of the better scenes in the movie were made that way just because it was shot handheld.

The action in this movie was incredible. You have to love it when Tom Cruise takes out three guys in an elevator with a key-sized knife (or just a key). But what was great about this movie was that the action wasn't the main point you were watching the movie. It was the story. It was the plot the action just came off of the plot naturally. It wasn't like "Alright, we've got eleven stunts that are really cool. Now let's write a story around them." It wasn't like that. The action not only coexisted with the plot, it enhanced it and accelerated the pace, emotion and overall quality of the plot.

The greatest thing in this movie, though, is the storytelling. It's just so good. I'm not sure if I can describe. It had such an excellent pace that was just so bang - bang - bang. Maybe I just think this because I was spending all of my energy trying not to laugh during the dramatic scenes (see: Bob was there too), but I still think it was a great movie. I would erase my memory of it and then watch it again.

Rating: Would Erase Memory To Re-watch (really good)

Oh! And about the really bitchin' death: Tom Cruise and the antagonist bust through this glass door and they wrestle in a street in the middle of Shanghai, and then this car comes through while they're brawling and then Tom Cruise, you know, like when someone would lay down really flat while they're under a car so that they aren't annhilated, except the other guy is on top of him, and so he is hit by the car right in the HEAD! Is that bitchin' or what?

Clockworld Continued

2006-05-07T20:39:00.000-07:00

Max and I were discussing how we thought that the clockworld thing would make a good campaign setting, and now I'm trying to figure out how a civilization could develop on a world like that.

Let's see. Tides, heating, day-night cycles, outgassing and everything else would be closely controlled by clockwork, which means there's no sun. It just gets light and then dark over twelve hours and then light again over the next twelve. This means that the planet isn't close enough to a sun to support life, or it could not be in orbit at all, but that's pretty irrelevant.

I suppose clock-based light-dark cycles imply some kind of dome. Heat would come from the ground and start to circulate as it got colder higher up. Logically there would be set areas for gaseous expulsion so that it didn't become trapped, which means there would have to be a filter for air in the core somewhere. Oy vey.

Now, assuming people evolved by coicnidence, and that they're humans for the sake of a good campaign setting, they would be superstitious of the areas where heat came out, but in a good way, probably building camps or cities around them, whereas the more dangerous gas vents would kill people. This system could probably translate into animism for humans, so there are good spirits, who provide heat, and bad ones, who kill people with their bad air.

There would be vents like these everywhere except for the Face, because on the Face airflow could disrupt the Hands' movement and ruin timetelling. Therefore, the face would probably have a different chemical mix. It would be leftovers, so probably CO2, O3 from the upper atmosphere, and maybe gaseous nitrogen. Therefore, it would probably develop a spiritual identity as the centre of eeevvviiilll from the early humans, helped along by the gothic black steel scything through the sky all the time.

As the humans advanced, they'd discover that the evil spirits were really just gas that came out of the vents, and probably learn to cover them up, and then learn to filter them or build chimneys once they realized they'd screw stuff up if they blocked them for too long. Cities would end up being built around heat vents, in areas where it was temperate or subtropical as opposed to colder temperate areas. They'd develop a way of travelling between cities using the core's power. Some kind of respectful religion might develop around the Face, and people would come in with masks to pray for their sick sisters or whatever.

So what I've got here is modern steampunk-styled campaign setting. I don't know what would have developed aside from humans, but that's a story for another day, preferrably one when I'm not dead tired at 12:00 at night...

My Posture Really Sucks

2006-05-07T06:47:00.000-07:00

Max here -

I have the worst posture. Your posture while at a computer is supposed to follow these requirements:

90 degree angle at your knees.
90 degree angle at your hips.
As close to a 90 degree angle at your elbows.

As I'm typing this, I'm sitting pretty close to these requirements, and boy is it tough. My back aches in how it's being taken care of. I am usually sprawled all over my chair, with one foot on an arm rest and the other on the base of the chair. Rather than my buttocks touching the base of the chair, by lower back is, and butt is just sort of suspended in the air in the combined efforts of my back and legs. Overall, there is no way that that this can be good for me.

In addition to that, my keyboard is often much too far to the left in relation to my monitor, so I often end up putting my body at an angle in relation to my chair. Now that my optical mouse has broken (thanks to Hermione, my parrot) I have to switch to my tablet, which has advantages, but has to stay quite a bit farther left than it should, pushing the keyboard farther. I've remedied this by hanging a bit of it off of the desk. I often have my keyboard pushed a bit farther into the desk, towards my monitor, so I have to reach really far.

I'm doing my best to stop myself from having severe back problems by the age of twenty, and it's been going pretty could for the past... um... ten minutes.

Max's Crazy Discussion Hour

2006-05-05T18:58:00.000-07:00

Hi. I'm Max. I'm new. I think about stuff.

...

Right. To business, then. What happens with me a lot, is that I will look at something, a shape, and I'll have like a billion thought processes about it right afterward. What I'm going to do right now is invoke that power inside of me by scribbling around in MS Paint with my eyes closed and then seeing what I relate whatever I get to. Ready? Go!

Pretty cool. When I look at this, I think of a language. The way that this particular image looks like it could be a letter, like in western languages, or a symbol that represents a whole word like in eastern languages. I'm going to go with far-east style, because it's cooler.

I'll assume that this is from an alien planet, too. Aliens are cool, too. Based on the way it looks, this might represent a structure or something. Wait! This looks like some crazy elevator into space! Yeah! The quadrilateral at the bottom is the control center or something, and the smaller shape above it represents the compartment that would be ridden in. The line is whatever helps it go up. What about the rightish angle at the top?

Oh! Oh! Maybe that's a runway or something and the compartment isn't a compartment at all, but a ship that is being sent into space! Maybe it needs the extra momentum because it has no propulsion system. That would mean that it wouldn't need any maneuverability or long-distance travel. Maybe it's like an inter-system transport or supply vessel. Maybe the whole structure isn't actually on the planet, but a part of a space station! In SPACE! Yeah!

The character is also at an angle inclining to the upper right, which might mean that this species writes at that orientation. Maybe everything that we would use rectangles for they use parallelograms (the non-right angle variety). Cool.

This character is pretty simple, so that would imply that this concept is commonly used in their written language. That would imply that they are a space-faring race that travels the stars often. We might also establish that the 'launched-from-space-station' method is the main method of space travel for this race or was at one point, and that this is just used in the context of "space travel." Rather than "Star Trek" they would just write that! I knew I'd work in Star Trek somewhere!

Well, I somehow arrived at Star Trek. I'm happy.

Clockworld

2006-05-02T19:52:00.000-07:00

So, I haven't posten in about two weeks... because of Macbeth, which I'm currently doing a production of. It's run-up week, so I have about four hours of rehearsal every day. Even though I have four lines in all of my two parts, one of which is almost an ensemble part. Oh, well. It's my second-favorite Shakespeare play, and I'm having tons of fun, so it's all good.

We also have a new member: Max, fresh from his debut on the wildly successful Troll Project blog. Well, maybe not. But he is the second third of my comedy group. He's very into Star Trek and such. Hopefully he'll post here soon.

And now, as Strong Bad would put it, to buisness. I was having a discussion with my dad the other day about the second law of thermodynamics, which I grasp in a severely vague sense. One thing that stuck out to me, though, was the rule that a closed system tends towards greater entropy as time goes on. My dad likened this to winding up a clock and letting it go; the spring cycles slowly towards the end, when it has to be restarted.

Now, I like clocks. I don't know why. They seem incredibly cool to me, and I don't just mean clockwork. No, Philip Pullman took that gimmick. I have to expand on it. I've had the idea of a world in which the core is a clock that just powers electricity, heat, everything for all mechanical things on the planet, which makes for a great merger of steampunk and SF. However, I haven't understood how clocks could go forever, and I've been wrestling with the question for ages. Now, though, I don't have to. If this world is plagued by the constant fear of the spring unwinding totally, who knows what could happen?

It would also be cool if it was flat at one point, and there was just an enormous clock face on it. Like, a ludicrously gigundous marble plain with gothic black folded iron spires that sweep horizontally through the sky a mile up every minute, and hour, and second.

It sounds like an awesome setting; now I just need a story...

A Few Pictures

2006-04-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

I'm getting too much spam on this blog. I wish the frikkin' chatbots would just leave me alone. Is there a Blogger witness relocation program?

Anyway. I made some pictures and I'm posting them. Here. On my blog. Take THAT, Nader!

Okay, I'll admit this one's pretty oblique.

Samus could totally wail on that guy.

That's all I got.

AU Fiction

2006-04-19T15:14:00.000-07:00

The wiki is confirmedly awesome. Having a knowledge base really helps, so now I have a great repository of Zalamath history, which prior to last week hadn't been detailed at all

Now, on to business. Two things have compelled me to become interested in today's subject: V For Vendetta and Lux. V For Vendetta is, first and foremost, a graphic novel written by Alan Moore (which I haven't read). However, they recently made a movie out of it, which I saw and liked a lot. Now, it's got themes of oppression, identity, and other stuff, but one of the things I really liked about it was the backstory, which has stuff about Britain's descent into fascism over the course of the early twenty-first century. Basically an alternate future-history type thing.

And Lux... well, Lux is a super-addictive shareware Risk clone with a huge wealth of maps. I've been playing the assorted maps, and wondering what it would be like to actually have a direct narrative of a global war based on location and history, rather than just fighting over Scandinavia or Maine. And here's where the alternate history part comes in: I don't think it would be interesting if it was set in this world, so I've made some history changes, the idea of which were inspired by V For Vendetta. (Not that it's about fascism. I just like alternate universe stuff.)

My idea for the backstory is that when Australia was first discovered and used as a penal colony, a man named Anthony Cartwright was framed as a first-class thief and sent there to work. Of course, being framed, he was more than a bit vengeful, but couldn't do anything more than stew and build bridges for years. That is, until those wacky Americans, and those zany French, had their revolutions. Now, words of this got around, and eventually he started preaching to his fellow inmates about prison uprising. This was more successful then he expected when the surrounding Aboriginies, eager to reclaim Port Jackson, heard about this from inmates and agreed to help. There was a quick revolt, and before the British could send a fleet, Port Jackson had been stormed and a well-defended base had been established, using stolen items.
The Britsh realized it would be too much work to retake and rebuild, and having just established colonies in other areas of the Pacific, weren't hurt much financially, so they agreed to a peace treaty and in a few years entered into a calm and content trade relationship. Cartwright was hailed as a hero, and the Aboriginies were embraced as brothers and sisters.
When the Philippines, and Indonesia, and Cambodia and Thailand all came out of colonial governments and needed help, Australia was there to help, having just picked up a lot of US work in the Pacific war against the Japanese. The Pacific islands joined in a weak union with Australia, and eventually this coalesced into a super-nation known as the Oceanic League, encompassing Indonesia, the Philippines, New Zealand, Tasmania, Australia, and most of Southeast Asia. This rivaled the US and the USSR in power, and eventually, by way of seeming like a threat, forced the European Union into country status quite quickly. Peace reigned for numerous years - no Vietnam or Korean War - until the early 21st century.

Which is when my story picks up. The only problem is... I don't know what to put in it...

We Got a Wiiikiii!

2006-04-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

Yep, that's right. My friends Max, Scout and Kadiir (And me) got ourselves a wiki set up that's basically a database for all of the races that we've created in our pathetic nerdly obsession, so now I have a
knowledge-base for everything here. It's looking pretty nice. I have a series of articles set up on Zalamath stuff and I'm working on some Tzaru-Sokinu material.

Species Wiki

I feel like Charlie Brown

2006-04-02T14:47:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it was an April Fools joke. Ha ha. I guess I really don't have the readers to pull that off. Maybe next year...

Now I have to re-edit my template and make everything better. Thanks a lot, imaginary infinity-2 readers.

lol

2006-04-01T17:29:00.000-08:00

so i was tlaking to myfirne d the other sday and i said that i really throught blofggwer wuz kewl and she was like"no lol u shoul totly get a xanfgsa but oi don't want one so id said thatg i wul just make a xcanga blog on blogger and she was lioelk 'cooel just amakeit flashy

so no w i have a nerw theme and its cool, and stiudf LOL

beisides i don'treally like rietingt all that much wnayway so myu blog is gonna be different now

im gonan go eat now BAI2U lol

Game Idea Blitz!

2006-03-30T14:52:00.000-08:00

Here's the deal: I've been really, really bored lately. I came up with ideas for games. That's what I do when I'm bored. GO!

Freestyle Rap Game
This would be a game about, well, freestyle rap. But it's deeper than that. You can customize teams of rappers, with up to two rappers and a producer, as well as spending money of things to sample from, like horns or even full bands.

Basically, you get a Mainstream rapper to start with, such as 50 Cent or Ludacris, and you go through their story mode, which is ridiculous and probably makes fun of them a lot (50 Cent was shot 9 times in the back! z0mg!). Once you're done, you get to unlock the Undergound mode, which has rappers like Del and Mikah 9. You can play through that with them, and it's probably a bit weirder. Once that's over, you get the Producer mode, where you can play as The Orb or Prefuse 73. From there, it splinters and you can go through minigames to unlock special rappers (William Shakespeare, Batman, etc.), or teams, like Antipop Consortium or Outkast.

Once you've done all that, a new mode opens, where you contract a pool of rappers and producers and lead them through tournaments and earn money, continuously managing them in the vein of Animal Crossing, where there's no exact goal. Of course, there'd be multiplayer. You'd battle against your friends tag-team, team, or solo matches. You'd have to match complimentary or analogous lyrical styles, and then different sorts of producing, ranging on a spectrum from techno to straight rap. Based on how good your rappers are (Shakespeare beats 50 Cent), how well they compliment each other (MC 900 Ft Jesus's laid-back style and Eminem's angry one bounce off each other well, that's compliementary, whereas Aesop Rock and Lemon Demon, who both carry on rhymes for a while and move fast, are analogous), and how well your producing adds to that (DJ Spooky producing for Prach Ly and and Del would be good, with a nice semi-controversial but still easygoing feel to it), you're scored against the other player, and the player with the most points wins.

This is sort of a parody of Def Jam: Fight for NY.

Zoomable Scrolling Strategy
No, I did not get this idea from Sean Howard. His is different.

I've always been frustrated with strategy games either being large-scale, like Civilization or Risk, or small, like Warcraft or Wesnoth. It seems unlikely that the landscape would make such a small difference as to be dismissable. Therefore, this game would center around different types of troops and their movements and maneuvers on a large map with a decent variety of topographical variations based on the area. You would try to cut off supply lines and the like, maneuvering to get into the best possible spot.

However, as soon as you got into a full-on engagement with another army, the view would shift and zoom in on individual troops, which you would position in a closer area and do typical small-scale RTS stuff. It actually sounds a lot more like real war. Another thing is that the elevation would matter a lot. If you had higher ground, you'd be able to station snipers or archers or whatever and pick the enemy off at your leisure.

Tzaru-Sokinu Continued... Continued

2006-03-30T14:34:00.000-08:00

I really like the way these guys are turning out. I like the feel, and it seems like I've got something of a point for them. The post-apocalyptic feeld narrows my choices down, and makes it much easier ti choose how they will have evolved.

That said, I've got some ideas for weaponry and spacecraft. Their weaponry, or at least guns, are shaped quite a bit like spears, held at one side and swept across at enemies. They're beam weapons, so this works fairly well. Probably just straight lasers, which is to say focused light shot through a lense and propelled at enemies. Very nice. They also probably have bayonets on the end. For long range, where lasers would be useless, they have ballistics, kind of like the Zalamath's sniper rifles.

Their ships are ragged, often, usually sent up to scout out the immediate area. They're aware of alien life, having gotten radio chatter in an alien language, but they can't send messages back or send ships at such a long distance. They have no moons to colonize, but overpopulation is not a problem yet because of the tunnels.

Tactics are really interesting, because there's nearly always more than one way to get from one place to another due to the extensive tunneling, so there would have to be twice as much to defend.

As you can see, I'm still fleshing these guys out. Sorry about the relatively short post... Even if it's not like anyone's going to care.

Tzaru-Sokinu Continued

2006-03-23T17:33:00.000-08:00

So, I realize I haven't actually done much with my unformed spider-cave-crawler race recently. I've been sort of formulating ideas for them, so they're still pretty fluid. However, they've solidified since I started, so I can post more.

The warring race that once existed on Ilzakis (the Tzaru-Sokinu homeworld) were indeed called the Amulkaanos. They were advanced, and fairly ruthless, but in an almost artful way. They weren't necessarily honorable so much as respectful. If someone was a better tactician than them, they would respect them for that. In effect, the mutually assured destruction that occured was the result of an almost beatiful self-improvement effort. They used tactics like freezing water-mains to cut off supplies to entire cities and collapse large sections at the same time. Once it degraded to nuclear war, though, nothing could be done to save themselves.

However, the thing that really interests me about the Tzaru-Sokinu is that every facet of their civilization is impacted by the Amulkaanos. It could almost be said that the race of warriors lives on in their future counterparts, because the Tzaru-Sokinu copied Amulkaanos technology and architecture. The Tzaru-Sokinu have a few great capitals in their pseudo-global society, called the Kaiasanren (Sunken Cities) because thei is where their caves intersect with cities that collapsed into the underground of Ilzakis during the apocalyptic war. They're big cities that slope downards into the underworld, encompassing salvaged Amulkaanos technology and original Tzaru-Sokinu technology.

As for society in general, the Tzaru-Sokinu have a semi-feudal system. They have businesses that are almost like kingdoms of their own, with workers at the bottom and leaders at the top, which in turn serve loose provincial governments, which work not so much for their own country but instead for Ilzakis in general, forming a sort of global-bureaucratic-command economy-feudalism. Their military is basically based on what business has the money to train it, but once the soldiers are trained they are Ilzakis's property. It's a very loose hive-mind mentality, actually.

Interesting. This was going to be a bit longer, but I can't post. I'm going to do pixel stuff.

Woops. I forgot to say that the Zalamath ships are most certainly NOT to scale. The warship is really really big.

Zalamath Spacecraft Continued

2006-03-19T10:55:00.000-08:00

Here's the map of the eastern and western hemispheres of Zalamar, respectively. Drawn in the GIMP.

And here's the picture of all current elements of the UZDF and UZEF fleets. I've been working on it for about three days. All hand-pixeled by me.

Heeeere's Johnny!

2006-03-16T15:22:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I'm still alive and kicking, much to the dismay of the hitmen who came to my house last night. My Preying Mantis style has defeated many more talented than they. Feh.
In all seriosity, though, I have been doing quite a bit of stuff:
-Campaign planning for the Zalamath-GF war;
-Actually starting to write the Criminal story;
-Developing the sci-fi series*, tentatively called Spectrum;
-Working on the ninja and pirate MMORPGs;
-Watching APPLESEED, my new official third favorite movie of all time;
-Ogling Spore.

So I've done a bit of work on a lot of stuff. Right now I'm trying to see if I can pixel a half-decent Zalamath portrait, because that last one was not... as expected.

However, "Spectrum" is going along swinningly. We've got a fully fleshed out plot for the first two episodes and a six-character set. Here it is:

The plot: Don and his squad are given an illegal job: to attack an experimental science vessel (possibly) called the Spectrum, kill the whole crew and bring it to their client. They accomplish the first part easily. They kill the sekeleton crew except for Kester and Lily, who weren't really part of it, and begin to pilot it back to the rendezvous point, but they're attacked, and General Barker manages to get them out of the attack, having been hiding out, by pressing a really big red button that sends them to another area of space, inexplicably. This is the first episode of our two-part pilot.

Don (No last name given): The leader. He's irreverent and sarcastic, often pretty bitter, but still probably the most responsible member of his crew.

Dave (No last name yet): Don's partner. They were in a fighter squadron in some army, but they left for some reason. Now he's the effective second-in-command, loyal and friendly towards others.

Jane (Likewise): The third core member of the crew. She's lazy and slovenly, but a devil at flying and very skilled with most weapons. She's very nasty until she's motivated. And then she's... businesslike.

Harold "Kester": Well, really it's Kester. Maybe it's his last name? Whatever. He's a newfound mechanic, very witty and often nasty. He's a very mean person towards how beat-up the fighters can get, and really hates fixing them.

Lily (No last name yet): The ship's pilot. She and Kester were found locked in the "brig" on the Spectrum and brought into their crew. She's also fairly friendly, but a bit more introverted than Dave.

General Barker: An important military figure found on the Spectrum. He's kept around because nobody else knows much about the inner workings of the ship. He's quiet, collected and quite dark, harboring a dislike of the military and nearly everything else.

(Whether this'll actually be a show is very unlikely. It's probable we'll just post scripts.)

So I'll post scripts when we finish them.
This is lieutenant Pieboy, signing off.

*If you're lost about me having a sci-fi series, look at the post called "Guh."

The Tzaru-Sokinu

2006-03-03T17:20:00.000-08:00

Well, in case you're wondering why I've been missing after this sudden burst of creative power, it's because I've created a NEW RACE. I've been working, mapping them out, creating a palette and a point for them. And here they are: The prototype Tzaru-Sokinu.

The Tzaru-Sokinu as a race, first, are shorter, slightly, than humans, averaging 5'3". They are quadrupeds, and they have six arms. Four of them are longer and terminate with three pointed claws on the end, these being the feet. Two of those are very long and jut out from the back end, being the back feet, and the other two being the front. The final two are shorter, ending in four fingers, two of which are opposable. These are the hands. They have grey-to-black chitinous skin, which is in several plated layers, and two distinct areas of the body, the torso and the thorax. The torso is generally straight and the arms just from it, and the thorax begins a ways below where the hips would be on a human torso, and the bends around, extending to the back and providing a space for the legs.

Now for some history: On their planet, formed ages ago before most other life on the universe, there was a race that I as yet haven't named (I'm thinking something like Amulkaanos, but I don't know). They were about as advanced as humans are today, but a bit more fickle with weapons technology. Nobody knows or can know today, but for some reason there was a huge nuclear war. The entire civilization was killed by shockwaves or radiation, and only the smaller beings were left. However, in ther tenure as masters of the world, the race had begun to dig tunnels beneath the surface of the planet. These were unaffected by radiation, and they became an effective house for the race that would become the Tzaru-Sokinu. As they became sentient, they tunneled out the already-created passages further, and eventually most of the species migrated away undergound. As such, there is a huge twilight world underneath the surface of the planet. Most species subsist on lichens, and while the irradiation is mostly gone, they still live underground.

The surface is rocky, full of dormant volcanoes and ruined cities. The Tzaru-Sokinu have claimed many of them and begun research, and to merge their own architecture with that of the cities. The system of government for the planet is still undecided. I'm thinking certainly not monarchy or oligarchy, but possible total democracy or even anarchy, just something decentralized. There are still countries that exist, and it hasn't had a Unifiication like Helios or Zalamar.

So here's the point: Zalamar isn't alien enough, being actually very human-based (although I'm working on remedying this), and the Europans are too alien to be developed much so far, so the Tzaru-Sokinu are a nice midpoint. I figure I'll be able to flesh out the Europans, as well as making the Zalamath more alien-seeming, so this is a good thing. Not to mention that having a crazy spider-guy race is cool.

Other creative stuff:
Here's a current race list:

Zalamath
Tzaru-Sokinu
Europans

And a culture list:

Helios
Urallia
Hyrotyr (What I'm calling the Ruin world)
Riosal (Undeveloped steampunk Salamader place)

Also, I'm seriously considering giving a few friends Vault accounts. It would be neat to have a diversificated blog thing that we could all post our musings on. And then, maybe, we might get noticed.

Peace out.

Yeah!

2006-02-23T18:11:00.000-08:00

I'll refrain from making an extensive Sandman reference on the grounds that I really don't want to look like too much of a nerd.
*looks around*
Anyone get the subtle humor in that one? Neh. Anyways.

I feel empowered. It's like having superpowers after having lost them for a long time! It's awesome!

So, in such a short span of time, I fleshed out the world of the Criminal. Here goes.

In the early days of the 24th century, mankind had several successful colonies on Luna, Mars and the terraformed Venus. Colonies had begun on Europa, Callisto, Ganymede and Io. However, there hadn't yet been a full unification of the countries, merely a few smaller ones. The European Alliance, the American Alliance, the Federation of Asia and the African Confederacy all had seperate colonies, but were all on fairly good terms. It was only a matter of time before they declared open borders and unified, forming the massive Helios Coalition.
This created a social and economic boom. Colonization became safer, more citizens became space travellers, and the entirety of the currently colonized Helios system became more powerful. It also became more liberal, with things like animal ethics laws being tested to their limit. Genetic breeding also showed up. Finally, humans were experimented on. This led to the abduction of our nameless hero. Nobody knows where he is. He's in orbit around an uncolonized but habitable planet, certainly not any in the Helios system.
My idea for this story/game is that it will be a mystery to find where the Criminal is, who the people who inhabit or inhabited the planet are or were, and what the government is doing.

I made a map of Zalamar, as well. But it's in .xcf form, so I can't upload it yet. I'm also thinking some about Urallia's history after the Birikiv war. Lot of stuff happening in my mind these days. And the great thing is that now that I have this blog, I can talk about it!
...to ...nobody.

Uh-Oh.

2006-02-22T18:18:00.000-08:00

This is it, people. This is what I created this blog to house. I'm having a huge influx of creative energy. And I have nowhere to put it into, except here. Now I can finally make the most of my intellect.

I've noticed that there are three phases to these little storms: Creation, Management, and Stagnation. Creation is when I really want to make something. Management is when I feel like I have to cultivate it, make it better, and develop it. Stagnation is when I'm uncreative and apathetic, and basically manage stuff not out of any great desire, but because I owe it to myself.

Logically, these loop. I create briefly, manage lengthily, and stagnate for a variable amount of time. Anyway, I'll probably write a bit, and maybe, if I'm very nice to you people, I'll actually make a new little "area." I could develop Suremsal, give it some history, or maybe some history of Zalamar, or maybe some Urallian anthropology, or maybe some more Terran-Europan war stuff. I feel so inspired. It's awesome.

Anyway, expect a lot of updates, assuming I don't kill my creativity with games in the meantime.

The Story Topic!

2006-02-20T11:23:00.000-08:00

Well, I've decided to make a topic for stpries, plotbunnies, and such, because I can't hold all my ideas in my head at once without one or two of them dying. Natural selection, y'know?

So I'm building a plotbunny sanctuary. Maybe I'll decide to euthanize one or two of them later, but for now they're safe.

Anyway:

Current Stories:

Not a Zombie: The main character is an undead who goes through various trials to get what he wants.
Idea Status: Not coming. I can't seem to fill the gap between the end of the beginning and the start of the middle.
Story Status: Shelved for the moment.

Untitled: My big long story. The main characters are wrapped up in a conflict too large for them to understand.
Idea Status: Well-formed, but not yet fully. Still in a liquid state.
Story Status: Part one is shelved, but soon to be edited.

Current Plotbunnies:

After the End: The main character is a post-apocalyptic human, who is attempting to unravel the mystery of what happened in the last days of civilized Earth.
Idea Status: Undeveloped. I haven't been thinking about this one much.
Plotbunny Status: A bit scrawny, but still going strong.

The Criminal: I've decided that this is a good story idea as well as a good game idea. The main character is an escaped prisoner attempting to learn the truth about what the government has done to him.
Idea Staus: Well-developed for the first portion, and then very fuzzy.
Plotbunny Status: Healthy and energetic. Maybe a bit too energetic.

The Criminal

2006-02-05T11:42:00.000-08:00

I had this idea for a game after getting really juiced from playing Halo. Not necessarily the game, but the campaign story is good, and me and a friend were playing co-op and analyzing it. I had this idea basically as a level design experiment, but it sort of took over, and now I have to post about it.

The main character does not know his name, his history, or anything that happened before he wakes up in a maximum security prison in orbit around a planet. He learns that he's being held by the government of the Helios Coalition, who control the solar system Earth is part of. However, the planet the prison station is in orbit around is nowhere in the Helios system. He also learns that the government is going to execute him.

After going back to sleep, he wakes up and finds himself in a suit of some kind. It's apparently grafted to his body, because he can't take it off. However, it grants him heightened reflexes, speed and strength. When the guard opens the door to bring him to the execution chamber, he's killed nearly instantly. The prisoner takes his gun, kills the rest of the guards outside, and then runs into the shuttle bay. He has no idea how to pilot the shuttle, so he sets the autopilot on and lifts off towards the planet below him.

He's hit by ant-air cannons and crash-lands, but survives, running off into the forest he landed in, which subsequently catches on fire due to the shuttle wreck. Marines, called in by the prison warden, land and go after him, chasing him through a dry riverbed into a valley, where more of them land. Cut off, he kills many of the ones nearest him and escaped into a tunnel which is, for some reason, inside a solid rock wall. He runs through the tunnel while the marines try to blow in the door, and finds his way into a huge chamber, obviously not built by humans. In the centre is an altar with some kind of weapon on it. He picks it up, and it instantly melds with his suit, fusing onto his hand. It turns out to be a potent beam weapon. When the marines blow the door open, he kills them easily and moves further into the darkness.

That's about as far as I've gotten, but it sounds like a great idea. It would play like a cross between Metroid Prime and Halo.

Fanfiction

2006-01-29T08:30:00.000-08:00

Haven't been thinking about Zalamar or Urallia or Europa lately. Sorry, folks. Anyway, I've decided to devote this post to a long rant about why I hate fanfiction, or nearly all of it.

First off, there was a time during the earlier days of science fiction when someone at a conference asked writer Theodore Sturgeon this question.
"Why write science fiction? Isn't 90% percent of science fiction just crap?"
He replied with,
"Yes, but 90% of everything is crap."
This is known as Sturgeon's law, and as far as I'm concerned it's very, very true. Although the crap-o-meter ranges from 80 to 99% percent, it's generally pretty high up there. The thing about fanfiction is that it pertains to the rule too much. Out of a given 100 fanfictions, one is liable to be good. The rest are going to be angsty, or illegible, or absurd, or just ...ahem... godawful.

However, that isn't necessarily cause to hate FF. Out of the thousands or maybe millions of fanfictions out there, there are going to be thousands of innovative and high-quality ones. However, in most places the really good things are given a lot of credit and importance, and the bad things fall by the wayside and disappear. Of course, bad things continue to be made, and these are as short-lived as always. This is because the consumers are not the ones making the products. There's a divide between the producers and the consumers, and the consumers can tell when a show or movie or such is generally bad. Of course, there are movies or shows or books that are considered generally bad but are targeted at a niche, like little kids or pre-teen girls, and make enough money off of that niche to continue.

On the internet, however, the producers are the consumers. The people on the receiving end of bad fanfiction read it and decide that it's just like theirs, and therefore good. They give it good reviews, and the writers read it and decide that they should write more. It's a cycle that cannot end. If everyone is a peer and everyone is a bad writer, there are bound to be dozens, hundreds, thousands of Mary Sues, songfics, and cutter fics. Not to mention romance.

Which brings us to the next reason I hate most fanfiction: the types there are. Mary Sues, primarily, and Marty Stus (or whatever you want to call them). Stories about the main character being some absurdly powerful, beautiful being who just happens to meet the most attractive male or female in their fandom and inexplicably manages to fall in love with them, having an obnoxious, drama-filled, insipid romance, defeating some sort of evil overlord or other threat, and finally dying in an angsty fashion.

Another sort are songfics. ALWAYS written with an annoying My Chemical Romance or Evanescence song, these are basically FFs that, for some reason, have lyrics from a song tacked on. Yeah, I don't get it either. They're generally filled with angst and absurd character pairings.

Come to think of it, I really just hate romance fanfiction. I don't particularly like romance fiction at all, but I can salute writers like Jane Austen who can create a bunch of characters and basically see how they interact. It makes them seem very real and believable, which is always best for a character. However, romance fanfiction... it makes me shudder. Consider taking two people and making them fall in love, while removing all traces of personality from them in the process. It seems pretty manipulative, bordering on evil. I'm not saying that fanfiction characters are ever real (unless it's RLFF, which I'm not even going to go into), but the idea that you're taking two characters who are, more often than not, intended to be mortal enemies or incompatible in some way, shape or form, and making them fall in love at the expense of their personalities is just kind of sick. If you're going to change the characters so much that they're unrecognizable aside from their names, why not just *gasp* create your own character?

One last reason to hate FF: the lack of creativity. Writing is, by nature, a creative process, and removing that is just a bit absurd. You're taking pre-created characters, a world that's already been explored in depth, and a set-in-stone story, and you're writing stories about them. Now, this isn't saying that, having read the whole series, or watched the whole anime or movie, and still wanting to, for lack of a better word, play in their world, is bad, but one should at least try to create their own characters, or a new story. As Anne McCaffrey once said, "This is my world. Go find your own."

Guh.

2006-01-21T11:49:00.000-08:00

This blog is kind of a place for me to put my thoughts on stuff when I'm not working on any particular project. Unfortunately for it, I'm working on two particular projects right now, so that's not working too well. I suppose that if I had any knowledge of our friend Mr. HTML I could create seperate folders for Zalamar, Urallia, Europa, writings, and other stuff, but I don't. I could delete this blog, and nobody would care or notice, but for one, I'm not going to, and for two, I still haven't given up hope on a cult following developing.

Just musing. Anyway, here's the little update. I'm working on a science fiction series thing with a friend. It's totally speculative, but it's still fun, so I'll tell you about it.

It takes place probably about six hundred years in the future. Mankind has developed space travel and formed a loose coalition of systems, some of which have seceded or been conquered by others. There's no big galactic empire as of yet, so they're pretty much on their own.

The series takes place in a large independent system (no, this isn't Firefly. Independent is just there because it applies), populated by a lot of pirates and other nasties. Our heroes are a band of four mercenaries who take jobs and basically try to keep themselves alive when there are dozens of others horning in on the same things. They're all pretty desperate, so they'll take just about any job.

The spin on the "spaceship" idea is that they don't all live on one ship. They live on fighters, each of which is personalized by its pilot, and all of which are pretty beaten up. In the first episode, however, they run into a job telling them to capture science vessel for reasons that aren't explained. They storm the ship, but their leader dies in the process. However, they're still able to commandeer it and fly it to the lowlife space station where they can drop it. However, the guy they were going to give it to attacks them, saying that they can't know what was on it. They escape, after picking up a few new crew members by accident, and find that there was an important military official on the ship. They can't return him to the police, because they'd know that they stole the ship, and they can't kill him without risking the police finding out, so they just have to run. However, they have a base camp now, as well as a new pilot and a mechanic.

So, that seems like a solid plot. Max, feel free to comment and make any changes that are necessary.

Hi! I'm Pieboy, and this is my new blog... oh, wait.

2006-01-11T17:20:00.000-08:00

Been a while, hasn't it? This is one of those instances where I've been doing so much on my own that I haven't been able to post much. I hope that really long post tided y'all over for my imminent return... oh wait, I forgot. Nobody reads this.

Anyway, here's a Zalamath. It's a bit, um, tiny, but it should give you an idea of what an average Zalamath wearing half-armor looks like. I've got a few ideas for what to do next. Possibly one with full armor, or a few of the ships.

I'm writing a new story. It's got a better voice and more easily sympathizable characters. It's to tide me over until I start editing Ruin and writing Aftermath. Understandably, it'll be a while. However, this story isn't entirely of my own doing. It draws pretty heavily from modern conflicts and idiocy, so it's not something I'll post the preproduction of here.

I will post the actual story here, though. Worry not.

It's done! It's done! It's done!

2005-12-31T12:41:00.000-08:00

I'm FINISHED with Ruin, the first of the four parts of my story. It makes me happy, this being the first major story I've ever really finished, but it's only the rough draft. Feel free to pick it apart and let me make the structure more sound.

Ruin

The water lapped against the cliff, playing a whooshing, sighing melody against the rocky shore of Calessius haven. It was peaceful and calm, and Valencius Terasolus felt as if he could simply sink into the rock and forget all of his conscious thoughts and sensations. The fog obscured so much, so heavily, that Valens couldn’t see Caleos port. It had come in quickly, the fog. It had just blown off the sea, and already it was so heavy he couldn’t make out the bustle of port on the other side. He could barely see the torre lumines, although he could easily make out the light they were shining through the fog. It would be a bad day if the Calessius torre lights couldn’t be seen, but fog was fairly common on Calessius. Granted, this was fairly heavy, but it was not terribly high above the average. The mariners often said that fog was the sign of a death at sea, but most in the port of Caleos thought of it as a herald. If there was a heavy enough fog, any ship could crash, anywhere, even in the Haven of Calessius. The water here was calm and smooth, and there were very few submerged rocks, but even so, a ship could hit the shore, or run aground on one of the islands that appeared infrequently in the middle. The fog did make it seem somewhat ethereal, which was one of the words he definitely wouldn’t use to describe Caleos. In any case, it was probably time for—
“Oi!”
The shout came from the edge of the cliff. Valens stood up. “Breakfast, right?” The shouter turned back towards him. “Yeah, stop staring at the fog. It’s not like you can blow it away with your eyes or anything.”
Valens chuckled. “All right, I’m coming.” He hoisted himself up out of the cave he’d been sitting in and walked out towards the cliff. He had found a rocky peninsula stretching out from the cliff where their house was situated, and had been staring off at the fog. But Elea was probably right. He couldn’t blow it away with his eyes, and he needed breakfast. He walked up to the dome of the house and entered.
Talodei’s house was actually built into the side of a cliff, with the dome being the only way in. One would walk into an entryway, and then down a flight of stairs and into a hallway, which forked, so one could take a path to the left, to the bedrooms, or to the right, to the storm shelter, or straight forward, to the kitchen. Valens headed in to the kitchen, and sat at one of the plain chairs surrounding the equally uninteresting table. There wasn’t much in the house. Rumors said that Talodei had been rich at one point, but he was either quite the miser or had lost his money. In any case, he was Elea and Valens’s guardian, and they didn’t feel the need to pry too much. Elea was already seated, and Talodei was walking over with a plate of whitegills, probably caught by him, as Talodei rarely bought anything from the market unless it was a special occasion. He set the whitegills on the table, and then took the only remaining seat, the one across from the large window overlooking Calessius harbor.
Calessius had a reputation for being one of the safest, friendliest ports in the sea. It was shaped like an oblong ring with a hole in it, the two headlands on either side housing torre lumines so, in the case of fog or a storm, ships could make it easily into the sheltered waters of Calessius bay. There had been very few shipwrecks here, and the few that did happen were usually accidents, with the lithrum generally fully salvageable and the vast majority of the crew saved. Caleos port was a town equally known for its friendly nature. Sailors generally lingered here for quite a while, and many residents had been sailors themselves once, too fond of the place to forget about once they’d retired from sailing. However, for this reason Caleos often exploited their monopoly on sailors, as it were, and items at the market were often just a little bit above average.
Talodei said, “You’re looking engaged, Valens,”
Valens gave a start. “Sorry… just thinking about the fog.”
Talodei chuckled slightly. “I’ve never found it all too interesting myself. Somewhat annoying, as a matter of fact.”
Elea remarked, “I’d assume not being able to Caleos would be a blessing to you, uncle.”
Talodei laughed. “Point taken, Elea. I suppose it’s better to eat in peace.”
Elea agreed, then picked up her fork and cut off a piece of the whitegill. She put it in her mouth and her eyes widened. “This tastes incredible! What did you do to it?”
Talodei laughed again and said, “I marinated it a bit. The aftertaste will probably kick in about… now.”
Elea’s eyes widened more, and Valens saw them begin to water. He was glad he hadn’t taken the first bite. Elea swallowed, and quickly swigged a bit of water. Then, “What in the name of Keisen Tevelaus did you marinate that in?”
“A bit of flame crab sauce.”
Elea seemed on the verge of choking again. Valens was amazed as well.
“Where in the name of Keisen Tevelaus did you get flame crab sauce?!”
Talodei closed up suddenly. “I have my ways,” he said, semi-humorously.
That was the end of the discussion. Talodei had a way of gently but firmly letting you know that he wasn’t going to talk anymore about the particular subject and he would rip off your arm make you eat it if you asked any more questions. Many mysteries surrounded Talodei. He was likely a retired sailor, but he wasn’t interested in water as anything other than a nutrient and food source anymore. Valens and Elea had never known a whole lot about him.

After breakfast, Valens said, “I’m going down to Caleos to see if I can find a better lamp,”
Elea stood up. “That makes two of us,” All three of them knew that Valens was making an excuse, but Talodei generally wasn’t pleasant to be around when he felt that people had pried too thoroughly, and Valens liked to let him cool down a bit.
It wasn’t as if he was harsh or mean, as he had had the heart to raise Valens and Elea for sixteen solsti, but he had been known to be strict, though never physically punishing the two.

They walked out of the house, then over to the more softly inclined part of the cliff. As they gingerly made their way down the incline, Elea remarked, “You were right, I can barely even make out the torre from here.” Valens smiled inwardly. As they reached the softer shores, Elea said, “Don’t you think it’ll be hard to hail a boat when we can’t see anything?” Valens thought for a second. “You’re right. We should try walking.”
“Doesn’t it strike you as strange that Talodei doesn’t have a boat? It’s kind of a requirement on Calessius.”
“There are a lot of things Talodei isn’t telling us, I think.”
“Yeah.
They climbed up the incline and began the walk around the sparsely populated northern shore of Calessius. As they reached the forested area, Elea said, “You know, we can probably get Savalus to lend us her boat.”
Valens grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”
They walked through the forest, using the old compass that Elea nearly always had on her as navigation. The tall spruces and firs that were almost the exclusive inhabitants of north Calessius towered over them as if they were some sort of pantheon of gods. They had been walking for nearly an hour when Elea said, “There’s Savalus’s house.”
Savalus was something of an oddity, as she had lived in the forest for years, and only went to market for very special occasions. She was about forty-eight solsti old, although she looked remarkably younger. She had always had sort of an ethereal quality about her, with her wispy, nearly white blond hair and fondness for long robes. She was somewhat like Talodei. Come to think of it, thought Valens, many people who lived on the northern or eastern shores of Calessius were like that. Elea walked up to the door and knocked. Savalus’s house was also built into the side of a cliff, though it was notably smaller than Talodei’s, being meant for only one person.
The door was not answered, no matter how many times Elea knocked. She looked at the door quizzically, as though it would give her some answer as to why Savalus wouldn’t come. She shrugged. “We can probably take her boat anyway. It won’t matter if she’s going to be gone much longer, and if she gets back before us, she’ll probably understand, on the off-chance that she does check for her boat.” Valens nodded. Elea was wrong, but the principle was the same. Savalus simply wouldn’t care.
Valens agreed, and they climbed the sheer cliff using the ladder Savalus had built into the side of the cliff. They reached the sand, and Elea walked into the boathouse. Valens slid the door shut behind her, and they walked up to the dinghy.
It was a small thing, a boat made of tarnished, steely gray metal. It was circular, with a stubby pointed front end to make it easier to move through the water. It was currently mounted on the track leading out to the beach and the water, but as Elea pulled a tarnished lever, Valens heard a soft, muffled moaning noise from the floor as the lithrum started up, and the track began to move.
At this point, Valens had a chance to look around the boathouse. It was small, appropriately, and had a domed roof. It was mostly made of wood, except for the metal circle in the floor, which was likely where the lithrum was housed.
The dinghy had a similar dome under the bottom of the hull, which was exactly the same aside from the fact that it had the propulsion tubes sticking out from it.
The metal of the dinghy screeched against the metal of the track. The belts fed in and out of the floor, moving the boat out slowly onto the beach, and then to the water. It slid into the shallows, stopped by the sand and rock underneath it. Valens and Elea walked out and pushed it into the water. Elea said, “It seems like it’s been a long time since we’ve been out on the water. How long has it been since we’ve been to Caleos?” Valens thought for a second. “About two months.”
Elea gave him a surprised glance. “That is a long time. I’m surprised you still know the way.”
Valens heaved himself up into the boat, and sat down at the main seat. He looked at Elea, and said, with a heavy dose of sarcasm, “Oh, sure. I don’t know the way to a large port city across the bay where I’ve spent my entire life, even though I can see it every day.
Elea sat down and shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Valens laughed and shoved her. “Shut up.”
“Don’t rock the boat,” Elea chided
“It’ll be easier not to if I shove you out first. Now shut up and let me steer.”
Elea agreed, and Valens flipped the large, grey switch that would tell the lithrum to start the boat up. A similar low moaning noise to the one heard in the boathouse started, and the propulsion tubes whirred to life. There was a shift in the moaning, as it dropped in pitch and volume, and the boat started forward. It accelerated quickly, as Valens held down the lever to the speed, and the whirring increased until Valens let go and set his hands on the two steering rods. It was barely needed, however; northern Calessius bay was generally completely empty, and he merely had to set the boat on a southwesterly course and sit back. He said, “Alright, now you can tease me as much as you like.”
Elea grinned. “No, it’s not as much fun when you prompt me.
They made idle conversation for a while, and then Valens said, “Alright, I’m going to need to concentrate. We should be just west of Caleos, and I need to find my way in the fog.” He eased the boat to the right until the compass said they were facing west. He looked straight forward, intensely, waiting for the fog to clear, and then, finally, it did, and Caleos stood before them.

Caleos was a large town, the largest Valens and Elea had ever seen, and it towered above them like some huge, off-white behemoth. It was built in a series of about four distinct “layers.” The first layer had been built over so heavily that it was barely recognizable, but it was what had been built when humans had first landed on Calessius hundreds of years ago, and therefore had very primitive architecture. Most of the buildings had been implanted with a lithrum, but there were models of old ships in the harbor that had things called “sails” and were propelled by wind. Valens didn’t understand how that could work, but he supposed they’d be lighter since they were made of wood. The second, third and fourth layers were built with progressively better technology, with the fourth layer generally having at least one lithrum, and some buildings with as much as six. The architecture, as with most in Calessius, had domed roofs, but only the buildings at the top of the cliff were built into it. The second and third layers’ buildings, especially the third layer, jostled for space on the precarious ledges of the cliff, and the second layer was built in the awkward architectural style that had marked the transition period between the eras when humans had not discovered lithri and when they were in common usage. As such, some of the houses had lithri, some of them didn’t, and some of the lithri were dead.
The dinghy came alongside the wharf, and Valens pulled it to the dock and tied it up with the rope hanging over the side. As he hopped out, one of the Caleosi said, “Hey! Valens! Haven’t seen you in ages.” Valens looked up. Gerius, a tall, blonde youth who always seemed to have a mischievous glint in his eye and had managed to gather a group of crew of young rogues and now spent most of his time wandering around Caleos, or, as he would put it, “helping the community,” looked down at him.
What Gerius generally meant by the phrase was removing the young, hot-blooded people from their tasks, and then coming back later to tease and steal from the people who took the reins and did do those tasks. Valens and Elea were honorary members of that crew.

Valens and Elea spent much of the day wandering around Caleos with a few friends that they hadn’t seen for months. As they rounded a corner, Valens noticed that the fog had mostly cleared up, and he could see across the bay to where Talodei’s house was. He looked at it for a moment, and then swore, realizing he had completely forgotten about lunch. Talodei was very strict on them eating together all the time. He always said something about how it “keeps families together.” Valens personally didn’t believe it, but he didn’t want to make things terribly hard on Talodei, who always seemed to have worry lines on his face for some reason.
He said, “I just realized I need to back at Talodei’s. Nothing personal, but, uh, I’m going to get railed at if I don’t leave now, so I’m going to leave. Now.”
Elea caught his eye and nodded slightly. Valens nodded back. This generally meant something along the lines of “we’re doomed.”
The others looked blankly surprised. Gerius, who was the general leader of the group, and subsequently the one who knew the most about them, winked at the two, and then turned back towards the others.
“Well, you heard them, didn’t you? Who are you to question the interests of the strange foreigners who live in the vast and unknown hinterlands across the bay?”
The group laughed, their tension relieved. Valens and Elea said their goodbyes and strode back to the dinghy.
“We’re still doomed. We didn’t even get the lamp, and Talodei’s going to be livid when we get back.”
“That’s always struck me as strange. It’s like he doesn’t want us to be away for too long. Like he’s afraid or something.”
“Afraid of what?”
“I don’t know.”

As they neared the house, Elea said, “Wait, shouldn’t we take the dinghy back to Savalus’s place?”
Valens looked at here, then swore and said, “Yeah, I guess we should. I hate having to keep turning around, though.”
As they neared Savalus’s house, however, they noted a plume of smoke rising from the cliff. Valens and Elea exchanged glances, and then piloted the dinghy to the beach, letting it rest in the shallows, and then pushing it onto the track. Valens walked into the boathouse and idly pushed the lever.
There was no moaning noise. Valens pressed it up and then down again, but nothing happened. He hopped off the ledge where the lithrum activator was located, and inspected the metal portion of the floor where the lithrum should have been located under.
It was dented in. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a large dent in the floor over the lithrum containment. Sickly yellow fluid dribbled through a hole in the side and congealed at the lowest point. He called Elea in, and together they inspected it.
“What do you think happened to it?” Asked Elea, incredulously rubbing her hand over the dent. “This doesn’t look like an accident.”
“I don’t think it was. It’s probably got something to do with the smoke,” said Valens, grimly looking at the dent. “The lithrum’s dead.”
“We need to get up there!”
They scrabbled up the ladder to the top of the cliff, scuffing their feet in their haste to get up. Valens hadn’t realized how arduous it was to climb, as he hadn’t had to climb it quickly before, but it was quite strenuous to pull himself up rung after rung as fast as he could.
When they reached Savalus’s house, however, they found the dome collapsed in on itself, smoking. Elea scrambled to the edge of the rubble and tried to slide down the pile of debris where the stairs should have been, her face frantic and worried.
“Elea!” Valens veritably screamed, “There’s no time for that! We need to get back to Talodei’s house!”
She stared at him for a second, then nodded slightly and climbed out of the black, smoky mess that had once been the house of their family’s best friend. Elea sprinted towards Valens, then slowed to a jog as he began to run as well.
Savalus’s house was quite far from Talodei’s as it had taken them an hour to walk there, and they were tired from the climb up the cliff, as well as anxious, but they managed to push themselves enough to make it to Talodei's house without collapsing from exhaustion.
As they reached it, they both inwardly sighed with relief. It was as uninteresting and pristine as it had always been, just as they had known it since they were children. Valens grinned weakly and said; “Now all we have to do is tell him about Savalus.”
Elea reached the handle and pressed it. The door slid in, and Valens strode through after her. They walked down the stairs and entered the dining room.
Elea stopped suddenly.
Valens walked into her and swore. “Elea! What was that for? You could have—“ He caught himself.
Looking over her shoulder, he saw a group of eight people wearing flowing robes made of an iridescent, deep green fabric which came down to their knees and had a slit down the middle, as well as shoulder plates and upper-arm guards made of burnished green metal. Through the slits in their robes, Valens could see breastplates and greaves made of a similar metal, and their upper faces were obscured by masks with a large, glassy piece in the front and a long, snug-fitting crest on the back, which gave way to a chainmail coif encircling the neck. They carried weapons that consisted of a sharp, broad, slightly curved blade attached to a handle that was a bit longer than it. They stood, with their weapons at the ready, in a semicircle, surrounding Talodei.
Talodei, his thick, dark hair in disarray, was on his knees with his back to the guards. He bore cuts and scratches, and the left side of his face was covered with an ugly, blue-violet bruise, which had swelled over his eye, forcing it shut. Blood dripped from an open gash in his chest, and his left wrist was twisted into a bizarre position.
However, as Valens looked past Elea in stunned astonishment, he noticed one more figure. Holding a similar weapon and wearing similar robes to those of the faceless attackers was a tall, exquisitely armored figure. His robe was inlaid with strips of metal that were nearly black, and his armor was ensorcelled with serpentine glyphs that spiraled and looped like the coils of an eel. His helmet had a low double plume of black that fell back over his plated shoulders, and his weapon had the likeness of a dragonfly carved into the haft. His faceplate was more luxurious than that of the guards, with two cheek-plates that swept across the side of his face. He stood with his weapon at Elea’s throat, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
“Well, it appears we’ve landed the two other fish,” he said, chuckling slightly. He cocked his head, looking at Elea. His eyes drifted visibly downward. “Not a bad catch, I see. It’s a pity I’ll have to kill you.”
Elea gave a shocked look. Valens’s eyes widened slightly. What had happened here? Had these people just invaded their home at random and decided to kill everyone? No, they had the air of those who had been given orders and were filling them out. But who were they?
“Zedaar, take the old one back home for questioning,” said the man briskly. He turned back to Valens and Elea. “These two can’t tell us anything. Kill them.”
Valens’s heart sank. As the man known as Zedaar and the commander of the force walked up the stairs, one of the faceless attackers strode up to Elea. However, as Valens looked at her, Talodei caught his eye.
He could never be sure how it happened, but in the split second that their eyes met, Valens realized what he had to do. But, as Talodei was marched out of the room, he noticed something.
Caleos was burning
The great glass window that looked across the bay of Calessius had been shattered, and Valens could see across to Caleos. It was in flames, and he could see droves of flying monstrosities storming towards it, He wondered how he had not noticed it before…
…And then he blinked, and it was gone. Caleos was as it had always been. He turned back to Elea just in time to see, after her hands were bound, the cruel spear being swung up. He surged forward, barely aware that his own hands had been bound, and knocked the guard to the side with his shoulder. In the crowded landing, the guard stumbled backwards and tripped over an upturned chair that must have been knocked in from the dining room. He landed heavily on his back, and the rest of the guards pressed past to capture the already-fleeing Valens and Elea.
Valens rushed into the hall, and down into the storm shelter. Elea hissed, “What are you doing? There’s no way out down here!” Valens made no reply and slammed the door shut, bolting it.
In the cramped quarters of the shelter, the only lighting came from the outside and the one lumine, in its glass pane. Valens and Elea rubbed their bonds off on one the jagged, splinter-ridden edges of one of the numerous wooden planks in the room. This was one of the two rooms that Talodei had allowed lithri installed in, and Valens was glad of that fact, for if the room hadn’t a lithrum, it would have been nigh-impossible to do what he was doing.
His fingers scrabbled at the wood in the floor, trying to pry a specific wood panel free, just as Talodei had communicated he should do. He heard voices from outside the door, and figured it was their captors. He heard the sound of a weapon clinking, and then there was a volley of crunches on the door as the captors lashed it with their weapons. Elea flinched away from the door, and Valens winced as he realized he had limited working time. The door was strong so as to avoid being knocked down in a particularly fierce storm, and it was barred, but he doubted it could hold against the men outside.
“Help me get this off the floor, will you?” He muttered urgently to Elea.
“Why? It’s not as if you can tunnel out.” She said fatalistically.
“Just help me.”
She gave a reluctant sigh and bent down to work with the flooring. Valens was surprised. If he hadn’t had Talodei’s advice to hold onto, he would have been scared to death and nearly hysterical if faced with execution. Elea had had no such thing to help her, and she was holding up well. The work was faster in tandem, with both of them trying to pry the wood loose from the floor. Valens winced every time the door crunched, and he began to realize it was weakening fast. He started to see beams of light coming through the holes in the door, with dust motes wheeling through the air and disappearing. He cut his fingers as he frantically tried to pry the wood off the flooring, realizing that there was probably not enough time, as the bar began to give way and crack. He saw the first blade stab through the door, then another and another, until the door must surely give way at the next attack…
…And then the plank gave way, its broad sides coming off the floor and revealing not rock but a ladder, covered in cobwebs and dust, leading into the abyss. Valens motioned for Elea to head down, as she stood dumbstruck, gazing at the hole. It was as broad as the plank, which meant just broad enough for Talodei to fit through, so there was ample room for them as Elea climbed down hurriedly, and Valens went down after, swinging himself onto the top rung and pushing down to get to the next.
And then the door snapped forward on its hinges and the bar gave way, and the green-armored guards boiled through like blood from a wound. One of them made a frantic grab for Valens, and succeeded in smashing his armored gauntlet across his nose with enough force to make his vision flare with pain. He heard a snap as his nose broke, and his hands left the rail, allowing his body to succumb to the force of gravity and fall. He managed to catch himself out of reflex, and barely missed falling into Elea, but now his eyes were filling with tears and the pounding, throbbing pain in his nose was making his thoughts swirl as he fought to stay conscious long enough to get down the ladder. He began to think he could make out ground, but now there were guards swarming down the ladder in the dim light, and he wasn’t sure if he would make it. He saw Elea touch ground in front of him and motion for him to get down.
He let go and felt his feet touch ground, but his knees betrayed him and he fell forward. Elea caught him, getting him onto his feet, and rushed forward towards the dark shape at the end of the low room he had landed in. As he came closer and the fog moved away, he began to make out the vague shape of a metal oval. The guards had touched bottom now, and he heard vague oaths as they began to chase them. Valens was dimly aware of the oval coming into focus now; it appeared to be a vehicle of some kind, with wings attached to the sides, and a rudimentary cockpit. He forced himself to turn his head and saw a spot of daylight, and was barely cognitive of Elea hoisting him into the vehicle before blackness took him.
Elea grimaced as she pushed Valens into the contraption. It appeared to be some sort of vehicle, and she hoped it would get them out of the cellar. She had no idea what was going on, but she figured flying the vehicle off into uncertain death was better than returning to the attackers for certain death, so, with Valens’s crumpled form at the back of the hole that constituted the pilot’s leg room, she pushed herself up the ladder and entered the vehicle, kicking the ladder down after her.
It was shaped like some sort of insect, with a sort of abdomen and cephalothorax, the abdomen being where the lithrum was located, she suspected, and the cephalothorax where the pilot sat, or rather lay, as there was a low, long ramp that cushioned the chest and hips and ran below the abdomen of the vehicle. She lay down and studied the controls, then looked back and saw the guardsmen nearing her. The controls consisted of two levers, not unlike the dinghy, a switch, and a squeeze handle on both the levers. She looked at them, and then flipped the switch.
There was a low, loud moan, growing in power and strength, and she saw the guards slow somewhat. However, as they saw that she had no idea how to power it, they surged forward again. Elea flinched as the first guard began to clamber up the tarnished metal side of the vehicle, and looked at the controls in confusion. She had no idea how to make it accelerate, and she quickly realized she would have to take a gamble.
She swore explosively and squeezed the handles on both sides. There was a burst of propellant and the long, bluish wings on both sides of the vehicle began to buzz like a dragonfly’s wings, and then there was a second burst and the moaning faded into inaudibility as the vehicle shot forward. It moved into a shallow, narrow cavern, coming ever closer to the daylight, and Elea felt as if her hands were glued to the levers. The guardsmen stopped running and the one who was on the side of the vehicle hit the side of the cavern and flew off, a large, mangled dent in the side of his armor belying pulverized ribs beneath.
The vehicle sped off into the daylight, and Elea felt a whoosh of wind and a slight change in pressure as the she came out of the cave and saw the water of Calessius Haven sparkling underneath her.
She breathed in relief, and then realized that she didn’t have the least idea of how to pilot the vehicle. She was moving incredibly fast, she realized, and felt the wind whipping her hair back off of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, but then opened them and figured she didn’t want to run into anything. The speed was unbearable, however. It would have been much easier if she’d had goggles, but as it was her eyes were in constant pain.
She was now 30 feet above Calessius port and had no idea what to do, while moving in excess of 80 miles per hour. Ignoring the facts and working on a hunch, she let up some of the pressure on the squeeze handles. The vehicle decelerated slightly. She let up some more pressure and was able to bear the speed without her eyes half closed. She then tried to figure out how to turn. She guessed it had something to do with the levers, but they pushed in and out of the cockpit rather than moving to the left and right like most boat controls. She pushed the right one in most of the way…
…And screamed as the right two wings of the ship stopped altogether and she began to spiral towards the water glittering below them. She pulled the lever out, but in her haste pulled it out too far. She screamed again as the right wings buzzed frantically and began to pull the right side of the vehicle up, threatening to tip it over and send her over the edge. She pressed it in more, and was rewarded with a decrease in altitude and a steady pace. That was one way to turn, she supposed, but what if…
…She let up on one of the squeeze handles slightly, and one of the propellant tubes dropped its output. The remaining one kept the same amount, and the vehicle turned slowly to the right. She sighed and let the squeeze handles equalize. Now all that was left was to figure out how to land.
As this thought occurred to her, she realized that she had no idea at all of how to land, and she wondered how long this thing could stay in the air, as she wasn’t going to risk landing. Presumably, as this ran on lithrum fluids and used the lithrum’s muscles to propel the wings, it could stay in the air for years, but it seemed as though it was fairly old, and she wasn’t at all sure if she wanted to stay for that long. She also definitely needed to get Valens to a medic.
As this list of things ran through her mind, she noticed something.
There was a buzzing coming from Talodei’s house. Elea’s heart sank as she looked back over the metallic surface of the vehicle’s main chassis and noticed three of the flying vehicles elevate out of the woods behind Talodei’s house and speed towards her. Frantically, she turned the vehicle haltingly away from them and accelerated slightly, the wind stinging her face. The vehicles that her pursuers were in had two cockpits, one raised above the other. She had no idea why, but hardly cared.
The guards behind her were obviously competent pilots, and their vehicles were faster than hers, as well as in top condition. She realized that it was unlikely she would have much of a chance, so she would have to land in Caleos and hope to lose them.
She accelerated a bit more and tried to bite back tears as the wind stung her face. She decreased both of the wings’ output and made a shallow dive toward the bay, but barely pulled up in time to avoid smashing into the waves. She managed to bring the vehicle above the waves enough to risk turning, then did, the propellant hitting the water and sizzling and the wings on the left side kicking up foam as she sped away to the left. The guards following her managed a much sharper turn than her, and their vehicles seemed to be opening up at the bottom-front to reveal two metallic rods. She turned back the way she had come, and felt an impact shake the vehicle. She looked back and saw one of the rods smoking. They were trying to shoot her down.
Desperation clutched her as she sped towards land, not caring if she crashed as long as she could get away. Another bolt juddered the vehicle, and she heard an ugly screeching noise from the back. That couldn’t have been Valens, could it? She thought for a moment, fears darkening her mind, and then grasped it. The lithrum had been punctured.
A black wave of fear flashed through her body as another bolt hit her. The vehicle began to shudder, and the moan became punctuated with screeching. She forced herself to look ahead and began to pull up to avoid the cliff at the other end of the bay, but the propellant began to falter and she became more and more frantic. Finally, she pressed both levers in, merely hoping for a miracle.
The vehicle shook, and she gasped as the propellant stopped completely. The wings, however, buzzed and launched the vehicle straight up, the moan beginning to die down as the lithrum gave in to death. A bolt slammed into the vehicle and it shook, as the lithrum died completely with a loud shriek that echoed in Elea’s head.
However, the blast had knocked the vehicle forward just enough to give it some forward momentum, and that continued as the vehicle fell, streaming pungent yellow smoke…
…And then it hit the lip of the cliff, and exploded in a blinding flare of white. Valens and Elea were blown clear like rag-dolls, their limbs flailing weakly in the air as they flew into the pine woods, and Elea felt her body strike the tough ground of the woods just outside of Caleos with a force that made her body shudder. She tried to roll over and force herself up, but her muscles betrayed her, and she could do little more than keep her eyes opened and listen to her ragged breaths.
The silhouettes of her pursuers’ vehicles floated over the edge of the cliff, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Nearby lay Valens, still unconscious. She saw the vehicles land nearby and the guards get out of their cockpits. She saw them begin to walk over to her, and she hurriedly held her breath. He bent down over her and took off a glove to reveal tanned skin.
That came as a surprise to Elea, who couldn’t see how these faceless monsters in their green carapaces could be human like her and Valens. The guard put a hand to her wrist, and she felt her heartbeat pound against his hand.
The man stood and nodded, then raised his blade.
Elea squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would be over soon…
But it never came. She heard a whoosh, a clang, and a muffled thump. She opened her eyes, feeling them widening in incredulity as she saw a figure wearing pauldrons and a cuirass, as well as a short mantle of black, trimmed with white, and a shirt of thin plate-mail dash past the body of her executioner and plunge a long, thin curved sword into the throat of another guard, then spin, parry another strike and cut through a third guard’s throat as if it were paper. He vaulted over the cockpit of one of the parked vehicles to avoid a stab from behind, and landed…
…In the path of another strike, that he couldn’t possibly dodge. Elea gasped and held her breath, watching as…
…He backflipped onto the top of the vehicle and slashed two-handed into the head of a fourth guard, He hopped off and dashed towards a fifth, his sword flashing upwards and downwards, meeting the strike of an attacker in midair and shattering the blade, his own cutting through the ribs of the guard.
He looked around for the sixth, and then saw him running to get to the driver’s seat of another vehicle. The guard passed Valens and Elea, rushing through the trees, and then the new attacker surged after him, his feet leaving the ground as he gathered speed, and then threw himself forward, his body losing substance as it dissolved into a fluid, shifting, seething blue stream that passed by the guard and through him, slicing a thin, diagonal path down his spine and across his side. The man dropped forward in mid-step, blood oozing from the rent in his armor.
Then the stream came to rest and reformed into the man. He had pure white hair that passed his shoulders and framed an arrogant, angular face with high cheekbones, and deep, yellow eyes, which seemed sorrowful to look at somehow. He looked around, then wiped his sword on the short grass and sheathed it in an ebony scabbard at his left hip. He walked over to Elea and looked down at her. She looked up painfully.
“Get up,” the man said levelly.
“Might have – ngh – might have some trouble with that,” Elea’s voice was sarcastic and humble at the same time. “I’d appreciate some help.”
“Don’t expect me to give you any.”
Elea muttered a few curse words under breath, and struggled against gravity, which suddenly seemed much stronger than before, eventually managing to hoist herself into a sitting position.
“I’m disappointed,” the man said critically. “I would have expected someone this far out from civilization to be hardier than you appear to be.”
Elea snorted derisively, but was tactful enough not to act angry with the man who had killed six of their guards.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” The man asked suddenly.
“No. It seems like you do, though.”
“I do, but it hardly seems polite to tell you anything while your friend there is still unconscious.”
Elea cocked her head quizzically, but her inner self was growing more and more frustrated with this man. He had appeared out of nowhere and saved both their lives, but now he wasn’t allowing her any information and seemed to think he was infinitely superior to them. Elea supposed she shouldn’t care, but it was becoming harder not to.
Keeping her anger under control, she asked, “Alright, if you won’t tell me anything else, at least tell me your name.”
He looked down at her, and then said, “How do I know you won’t just use it to get all my friends to do things for you and the like? I can’t go around randomly giving my name out.”
Elea bristled inwardly. She could barely keep her cool.
“You can apparently go around randomly saving people’s lives, however…”
Valens, who groaned and rolled slowly over, suddenly thwarted the argument that had been rolling closer, apparently awake now.
“Wha—what happened?” He rasped. The man walked over to him.
“You tell me. Why were you unconscious?
“I think my nose’s broken…”
“Heh. You black out because your nose breaks? Typical.”
Elea shifted angrily. “Typical of what?”
“Of your sort. You’re so used to being pampered and loved that as soon as the smallest thing goes wrong you all go to pieces.”
Valens opened his eyes more clearly. Elea could see an obvious spark of anger behind them.
“The smallest thing? Our home was attacked for no fathomable reason, some pervert of a commander sentenced us to death, we were apparently shot out of the sky, and now some arrogant do-gooder from some aristocrat’s estate is commenting on our “pamperedness” and inferiority without offering a scrap of help. I’d hardly call that the smallest thing.”
“I’ve seen worse,” was all the man offered. Strangely, he didn’t seem at all perturbed by these comments. Elea almost felt that he relished them.
She shifted again. “Well, now that you’re awake, this idi- man can start explaining things.”
The man sniffed. “I’ve decided that it’s too risky to tell you anything until we get back to my dwelling.”
Elea sat, dumbstruck.
The man chuckled. “My name, as you may refer to me, is Moneli Kovonos.”
“And where is your ‘dwelling?’” asked Valens, a little bitterly
“Nowhere around here.”
Moneli waited until strength returned to Valens and Elea, and then walked towards the south. He hadn’t sat the entire time he had been talking to them. Valens and Elea exchanged glances and followed. He led them into the fourth layer of Caleos, receiving a few odd glances from people who weren’t used to seeing armored swordsmen in their town. As they made their way to the main road in Caleos, which led down the cliff through all the layers, Valens idly glanced at the blue sheen of the harbor. There was something different about it.
He turned to Elea and said, “There’s a battleship in the harbor!”
Elea looked down incredulously. Indeed, there was a battleship floating in the harbor. Not a very big one, at least in terms of battleships in cyclopedias they’d seen, but a battleship nonetheless. The children of Calessius held the ships in awe, and although Valens and Elea no longer considered themselves children, they were still amazed that a ship such as this was docked in their harbor. It was made of metal, tarnished and grey like most utilitarian vehicles, and was in the shape of a grossly lengthened hemisphere, pointed on the front end. There was a great, grey post rising out of the top of it, with a small sphere on top. This in turn had a menagerie of curved, circular panes on its every end, as he saw it, there were many smaller ones on railings next to it. A similar post rose on the back. Valens suspected that these were the oculi, used for spotting other ships at a distance far greater than any human eye could see. The whole ship teemed with life, but he assumed most of the action took place on the lower levels.
It had a large array of guns poking out of the side, and there was a larger one on the front. It was flying a banner that Valens had never seen before, a blue circle over a white, four-pointed star, both of which were over a blue field.
Moneli led them past the third and second layers, arriving at the first. He stepped onto a wharf.
The one the battleship was tied to.
Valens had been becoming increasingly more confused, and this was not helped by the dull, throbbing pain of his broken nose. It didn’t seem to have been a bad break, but it still hurt, and his nose was crooked, making him increasingly self-conscious. However, they were apparently about to board a battleship, and that would normally be enough to make him scream. However, considering recent events, he didn’t feel up to screaming. He was, however, very annoyed.
He sprinted past Elea and up to Moneli.
“We ‘re boarding the battleship? Leaving Calessius?”
Moneli looked back at him, seeming genuinely amused. “Of course we are. What’s left for you here?”
Valens hadn’t thought of that, and as he thought about it, it occurred to him that he had no reason to stay here. Talodei had been taken away to someplace he only knew by what the commander of the guards had called it, “home”, and as it was, he had nothing better to do than to leave. He fell in to step next to Elea.
“So I guess we’re really leaving.”
Elea blinked. “Of course we are. What’s left for us here?”
She passed him and walked onto the boat.
It began to sink in, then, that nothing in his life could ever be the same after this. No matter what happened, if he ended up saving Talodei and finding out whatever was going on or not, he could not turn back from this point. He supposed he should feel sorrowful about this, but his mind was flashing with too many questions for any of that to get in the way at the moment. His previously mundane life suddenly seemed caught up in something infinitely more important than what it had been.
He stepped on to the battleship.

The entryway was a short, narrow metal passage that Moneli had to stoop to get through, dark and dank and smelling of metal, but they passed through it and entered a larger corridor.
On either of the corridor, which was painted in subdued blue-grey tones, side stood mariners of some sort, both wearing white tunics with a blue, four-pointed star over their heart. They snapped to attention as Moneli passed, giving Valens and Elea puzzled glances. This confused Valens. Was Moneli some sort of military leader? That could explain his skill, but he had a different sort of air than these sailors.
Moneli led them up through the corridors of the gently swaying ship. These were probably the passengers’ quarters, as they seemed fairly out of use and unimportant, which was probably how the people on this ship would treat passengers if they were at all like Moneli.
As they headed up a flight of stairs, Valens realized that this ship was probably bigger than Talodei’s entire house. The thought worried him.
The stairs led to another hallway, this one much smaller. Probably the sailors’ quarters, thought Valens, as he saw numerous mariners of the same sort as below, lounging about or talking to another. Moneli led them around a corner and up a second flight, and then into an elevator. He tapped a few buttons and stood back. A familiar low moaning noise sounded, and the elevator began to rise. Valens stood back and listened to the moaning, and then it stopped and the elevator creaked to a halt. Moneli punched a button in, and the door slid open.
Valens stepped through after Moneli, and saw a wide room painted with a deep blue color, almost black. There were numerous sailors in here, Valens guessed about ten, but they were wearing darker, more formal uniforms consisting of a white tunic with a deep blue vest and a pair of epaulettes. They snapped to attention as Moneli entered. The room was arranged with a pipe running down the middle, displaying black and white images on three sides, and chairs surrounding the pipe, with mariners going about tasks around them. There was a wide, slanted window at the front of the room, through which the two could see the headlands of Calessius and the open sea beyond Moneli waved his hand, and the sailors went back to their tasks. Valens and Elea the room, and a few sailors eyed them oddly, but on the whole they seemed unnoticed.
Moneli sat in an empty chair, leaving Valens and Elea to stand. He gestured to one of the sailors, who came and stood in front of him.
Moneli looked at the man, and then said, in tones that were only loud enough for the man, Valens, and Elea to hear, “We have the cargo. We’re leaving now. Is that understood?”
The man nodded once, and then walked to a tube and called into it, “We are casting off. All active hands to work stations. Repeat - we are casting off.”

While Valens was slightly offended my Moneli terming him “cargo,” He had already learned to avoid offense with the man, and was too excited by the idea of the open sea to care.
He began to hear a monotone, deep bellow emanating from the ship around him, and figured this was the lithrum of the warship, deeper and more powerful than most.
Sailors began to hurry about, attending to this or that, perusing the oculus displays, bringing reports to Moneli and the man he had spoken to, who Valens now assumed was the captain.
The captain began to walk from station to station of the bridge, asking various questions of the people at them. When he seemed satisfied, he turned to the speaking tube and called, “Lithrum to cruise speed. Set course for Volana.”
The lithrum roared to a higher pitch and the warship groaned and shuddered slightly as they cast off from Caleos harbor and slid off towards the headlands. The roar heightened in pitch slightly, and Valens saw water slide past the boat and Caleos shrink behind.
He and Elea rushed to the front porthole and looked out, nearly pressing their faces to the glass like giddy children, and saw the torre lumines come closer, growing in size even as Caleos shrank.
In time, the torre were past them, and they could only look back at the place where their childhood had been spent, the one place in the world they knew, suspended in the endless, deep blue of the ocean, and wonder.

Valens felt the final weight of his separation with Calessius Haven sink into his abdomen like a lead block. He had never left Calessius, and until he had come of age, he had never wanted to. Granted, he had felt that the prospect of leaving and going to a sister island would be exciting, but never much desired it.
Now, he was on his way to some place he had no inkling of, on a warship he had never seen in his life, with a man who could very well have been the ghost of Keisen Tevelaus himself for all they knew of him. His guardian had been taken to prison somewhere, he had nearly been killed, and he was now throwing his childhood to the winds and leaving.
Valens walked over to Moneli, and, with an effort to keep casual, said, ”Which room am I sleeping in?”
Moneli looked at him appraisingly, and then said, “I’ll see you to it.”
He led them back the way they had come, to the passengers’ quarters, and then down a side hallway to a pair of doors.
“You sleep here, Elea,” he said, gesturing to the left door, “And the other one is yours.” He said to Valens.
Valens thanked him vaguely, and then slid open the door and entered the room. He felt tears sting his eyes as he sidled towards the bed, and they began to trickle down his face as he knelt, and then lay on the bed. He felt a sob rise in his throat and let it come, racking his body with a hoarse tension. Another rose, and another, until his body shook and his eyes began to darken with the onset of unconsciousness,

He awoke later, feeling the calm, rocking motion of the boat and the omnipresent roar of the lithrum. He felt strangely refreshed, as though he had just splashed himself with cold water.
He picked himself up off the bed and noted his surroundings. There were no windows, but that wasn’t too strange. A crude chest lay in the corner, a chair next to it, and a washbasin and bucket of water next to the bed. Nothing was special about the bedroom, nothing felt as lived-in as his bedroom on Calessius.
He pushed that thought out of his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to think about Calessius, not now. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to become too sorrowful. He couldn’t allow himself to waste away.
He washed the caked tears off of his face in the basin, and then stood up. He strode up to the door, feeling the boat rock underneath his feet as he did so. His hand rose to the door handle and pushed.
It didn’t move. The door was locked.
He put his weight into another push, and then swore loudly and sat in the chair.
“Great. So what do I do now?” he asked himself.
He couldn’t allow himself to sit here and stew over the past’s events, but he was also apparently being locked in a windowless room, so he didn’t know what to do. He could sleep, he supposed, but it would take awhile to do so, and he would have time to think, which was a large problem at this point. He couldn’t get out,
So—
“Oi! Valens!”
A voice called from somewhere. Valens looked around in surprise. Who would be calling him?
“Over hear, you idiot, it’s me. Elea.”
He walked to his bed and sat down. “Elea?”
“Yes. The people on this boat must’ve installed this to communicate between rooms. It just wasn’t closed on yours. There should be a little hole and a glassy section of the wall right… there.”
Valens glanced at the wall and noted, to his surprise, that there was indeed a peephole. However, he didn’t see any glass, or any transparent surface for that matter. He said this to Elea.
“Alright, try looking for hinges.”
He found a pair, and pulled on the respective door.
The door opened out, and he saw himself staring through a window in the wall at the face of Elea.
Elea’s face was something he had never much noticed in the past, having in his childhood taken it for granted, so to speak, and in more recent times that feeling had lingered, as well as the fact he had never much cared for excessive detailing anyway.
Now, however, he had time to appraise it. She had straight, dark brown hair that dropped to her shoulders and narrow eyes of dark green. Her skin was fair, but tanned and even burnt in some places, and her face was fairly long, framed by high cheekbones and hair that she put meticulous care into keeping off of it.
She was, altogether, not at all bad looking, but he had never had much interest in her romantically, as she was practically his sister.
She said, “Good. It could have taken a shorter time, but it doesn’t matter.” Valens grimaced in mock-guilt, but then asked, “Why did you call me, anyway?
Elea shrugged. “I needed someone to talk to.”
“And I was the only one available?”
“Basically.”
Valens laughed. “I don’t know why I even talk to you anymore.”
They talked about assorted inanities for the next few minutes. Valens found it enjoyable to take his mind off of what had happened lately, and went along with whatever course their amorphous conversation took, until it shifted along the lines of Talodei’s capture.
Elea looked at him and remarked, “I wonder where those green-shelled bastards who stole Talodei took him.”
“I knew you were going to bring this up sooner or later. I think they just took him to some sort of prison. They’ve obviously got some sort of plan for him, or else they would have just killed back on Calessius.”
Back on Calessius. The words brought something of a thrill to his mind. He’d never expected to speak about Calessius as if it was a thing of the past, to be thrown aside when he had no more use for it.
Elea seemed unconvinced. “I know they took him to prison somewhere, but if they torture him… that would sicken me. I hope we can get him back.”
“You talk about him like an object. Besides, Talodei Delamon is not an easy man to break, and it seems that the people on this warship know what’s going on here, and I think they have decent intentions.”
“What, you mean locking in our rooms with no explanation?” Elea spat bitterly.
“I think that was for our own good, and Moneli should be able to explain it.”
Valens said this, but without any real conviction at all. They both probably realized that he was just letting Elea be bitter, and Elea was probably grateful for it.
“I suppose if we ever see him again we can ask—“
The door clicked, and Valens saw the handle turn and the door swing in. Moneli stood, framed in the door like some sort of specter, his white hair hanging from his head like the trails left by a ghost.
“I apologize for the lack of explanation. I see you’ve found the communicator.”
Valens looked dubiously at the small, glassed-in hole in the wall. It hardly merited such a grand title as “communicator”
“Yes, it appears we have.” He said frankly.
Moneli sat down in the chair so he could have a clear visibility of Elea and Valens. “I suppose you’ve been wondering why we’d lock you in here. Well, we have decided that we don’t want you wandering around this ship untended, because someone we don’t want to see you could see you.”
“Who would that be?” Valens inquired listlessly.
“Those green-armored people who were going to execute you back on Calessius.”
Valens almost choked. Elea asked, “Who are they?”
“They’re part of a group called the Viridian Crusade. They’re a sort of radical group who are attempting to seize power in the Archipelago. They probably captured Talodei because—

Wham.

The boat shook from some unseen impact, and a shrilling began to sound from a siren. Moneli swore and rushed out the door, his blade drawn and his white hair streaming about him. He called back to them to stay in their rooms, and dashed off down the hall.
The door clicked shut behind him like the gate to hell.

Moneli dashed from the passengers’ deck to the bridge. “What’s going on?” he yelled at the frantic crew. “You told me you’d raised a false banner so they wouldn’t know it was us!”
The captain turned on his heel and remarked, “Someone must have tipped them off! This is a small force, but if any of them get away, we’ll be too close to Volana! They’ll know where we’re headed!”
Moneli threw his hands up in frustration. “This is insane! How are we going to get every last one of those? And we can’t evacuate all of Volana in the time it’ll take for them to get there!
“We can damn well try,” said the captain grimly.

The outside of the ship swarmed with the insectoid flying vehicles seen on Calessius like maggots on a carcass, buzzing through the sky at incredibly high speeds and circling the ship, bursts of white and red occasionally flashing out of their guns and denting the side of the ship. Oculi had already been damaged, and one was completely demolished, bits of metal and sinew hanging limply from the lithrum. Sailors scrambled out of the ship and onto the deck, dashing behind makeshift barricades in front of the only available entrance to the ship and handling rifles in an effort to stop boarding actions by the attacking force. Guns began to flare, sending white streams of smoke out of the ship at the enemies. There were about 14 aircraft in all, but it was hard to count at the speed they were moving.
A flare went up from one of the aircraft, and others returned it. They began to decelerate and buzz towards the deck. One of the aircraft, buzzing around a bit lower than the others, began to move up, but as it passed a gun port, there was a flash and the entire bottom of the aircraft blew out in a shower of sparks and fluid. It was blown straight out into the ocean and fell with a resounding splash, the pilot and gunner likely already dead.
Thirteen now, thought Moneli, a bit sadistically, as he rushed up to prevent boarding actions being taken. His blade was out, but he knew now that he wouldn’t be able to take these attackers by surprise as he had taken the ones on Calessius.
He had often questioned himself why he continued to use his sword instead of a lithrum-powered gun like most warriors, but it was hardly important now.
The first craft touched down, its landing gear folding out, and there was a nearly palpable sense of tension as the cockpit began to open out like a mouth. Others landed, until there were ten craft parked on the deck.
That meant twenty enemies to fight. Moneli swore. The numbers were against them.
Their cockpits were open, but the sailors couldn’t get a straight shot at them until the pilots were out. There was a moan as guns were loaded and primed on both sides, and then, nearly as one, the green-armored warriors burst out, and the engagement began.

A volley of gunshots rang out from the defenders, sending sharpened metal spheres toward the enemy. A few fell, but the rest stormed towards them, holding rifles in front of them. The defenders loaded their guns again and fired, this time yielding a bit more, and now there were only fifteen attackers swarming towards them, and they quickly retreated behind their craft.
This seemed like a good thing momentarily, but Moneli knew that if this became a battle of attrition, they couldn’t win, and they definitely couldn’t risk an all-out attack with their inferior numbers. On the other hand, they couldn’t just defend and hold out for reinforcements from below, because they didn’t have the time.
A volley of blasts came from the other side, with no results. Moneli swore to himself. They would have to risk a holdout while reinforcements came. If attackers entered the ship, all hell would break loose.
“Fire at will.”

Valens and Elea heard the sounds of battle coming from above. Valens felt sick to his stomach. There was all this death coming from the deck above, and for what reason?
Valens had no idea what was going on or why he was locked in this room He felt his heart sink with every explosion from above. He couldn’t stand the fact that he was trapped underneath a battle on a ship that might sink, or that he had no idea in the least of what might happen if he was captured, or any of the myriad possibilities of what might occur after this battle. He felt his head slowly sink onto the pillow, and welcomed the prospect of sleep, for it was the only escape he could see at this moment.

The sun began to dip towards the horizon, staining the standoff at the deck of the ship with even more red. Moneli had given a ceasefire momentarily to allow for a check of status, and it wasn’t pretty. He now had nine troopers against the enemy’s thirteen, and the three remaining aircraft were keeping the gunners and unoccupied sailors quite busy. If this went on, he might have to start taking risks.
Incessant gunfire from both sides whizzed through the air, and Moneli surveyed their situation with weary eyes. There was an outcropping over their heads, which prevented the attackers from using their higher ground, but the attackers were interspersed throughout the aircraft and Moneli couldn’t get a lock on any of them for certain.
Then it hit him: they must not know where everyone on this side was, either! They probably didn’t have a distinct number for his troops, or else they would have attacked with their superior numbers by now.
Odd, as he had never known the Viridian Crusade to be concerned with such things, but he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He had to use their uncertainty to his advantage somehow. If he could somehow intimidate them, he might be able to shake their hold.
“Concentrate fire on the lithrum.”
A sailor looked at him questioningly. “Just do what I told you,” he said.
A chorus of small explosions echoed over the deck. Bolts tore at the metal of the aircraft, ripping small chunks off of it. He saw a Crusader yell and fall off of it as it shook, and he smiled. “Keep firing.”
It kept shaking, and although the rounds weren’t doing anything except that, he knew it was keeping the crusaders on their toes.
He took a deep breath and vaulted over the barricade.
He sprinted to the aircraft, all of his senses screaming against it. He could see the shocked faces of his troops, and he knew in an instant that if he took too long with this, or aroused too much suspicion, he would unquestionably, instantly, be killed. His feet clattered against the metal of the surface, for what seemed like forever, but was realistically hardly even a few seconds, and then he was safe. He reached the metal side of the craft ducked flat against it, squishing his entire body in an effort to remain unnoticed. Safe.
Relatively speaking, anyway. Looking around the corner, he saw the muzzles of two guns poking out. He stood stock-still and watched them. Their handlers appeared to have noticed him running, and weren’t firing.
He stood there and waited, tension filling the air. If those guns were loaded, any of the Crusaders on either side of the craft could simply duck out of cover for a second, and he would be done for.
He could feel his ears whining, the blood pounding in his head as he hid there, waiting for what seemed like years for them to either disregard his presence or kill him.

Blam. The sound of guns filled his ears as they fired, not at him, but at his allies. He let up on his lungs, having been holding his breath, and then, as fast as he could possibly move, he darted from cover into their range. He could almost see their eyes widen as they saw him in front of him. He leaped forward; his sword slipping in and out of one man’s ribs as his other arm dissolved into liquid and plunged straight through other’s chest, felling them in an almost elegant movement.
He saw three other soldiers standing in shock behind the vehicle as they watched their brethren killed. He couldn’t resist an arrogant sneer as he transmuted his body into a stream of blue fluid, sliding through the air at high speeds, and slid through their bodies, puncturing organs and tearing bones.
He materialized on the other side of the craft, instantaneously feeling a burst of fatigue as he rolled, but disregarded it and dove immediately into another stream, tumbling forward and dissolving once again, and allowed the stream to curve through the barricade and into allied territory.
He dropped behind a wall and slipped shakily to the floor, feeling the all-encompassing, overwhelming wave of tiredness sweep over him. He collapsed, his eyes barely open, and did nothing but feel the metallic chill of the deck of the boat against his cheek for a moment.
Then, he heard the sound of gunfire and eased himself to his knees. His knowledge of the enemies’ numbers had helped much more than he’d thought it would, and now they could afford to wait and see when reinforcements would arrive.
The odds were now in their favor, and he found himself sneering at the faceless Crusaders.
Wait…
He began to hear, at the very back of his mind, a soft, low moan. It gradually grew in strength until one of the aircraft slowly lifted its body into the air and shot off.
“No!” Moneli cursed the Crusade for all it was worth and sat bolt upright. He saw Crusaders sprinting towards the aircraft as fast as they could, dropping cover and running as if their lives depended on it.
Another craft lifted off, and another, until he could see the last crusader scurrying towards a craft.
“Fire! Fire at will!” He yelled.
The defenders took potshots at the fleeing Crusader, but it wasn’t of any use. The last craft sped off into the fleeting daylight, and Moneli was left with nothing but a few empty aircraft and nine troopers.

Valens awoke. Realizing instantly where he was, he sat up and listened intently for the sounds of battle. None came, but he was still suspicious. He eased himself off the bed and walked haltingly over to the washbasin. He poured water into his cupped hands and slid it into his face, gasping as the cold water came into contact with his cheeks.
He walked over to the door and pulled on it, as he had nothing better to do. It didn’t open. Oh well. It was worth a shot. He sat on his bed and knocked on the wall, wondering if Elea was asleep or had stayed awake all night. No sound was forthcoming, so he assumed she was asleep.
He stood again and wandered to the chair. Sitting, he began to wonder what had happened while he was asleep. It was possible the ship had been taken by the Crusade, but he deigned not to think about that. It was also possible they had won the battle, which was preferable, but he supposed he couldn’t be certain yet.
He had considered outcomes for a few minutes when there was a clunk and the door opened.
The familiar, white-haired personage of Moneli stepped through; wearing exactly the same clothes Valens had first seen him in.
“I see you’re awake,” was all he said.
“I see I am,” Valens muttered bitterly.
Moneli stood to the side, and Elea stepped through the door. Valens was surprised, but didn’t show it, keeping his face a mask of controlled anger. He looked up spitefully at Moneli.
“Why is Elea with you?”
“You weren’t awake when I came by last, so I decided to brief her. It appears it’s now your turn.”
Valens allowed himself to feel slightly less sullen, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t going to get another cryptic answer, so he kept his face set.
“You see,” continued Moneli, “the Viridian Crusade isn’t just desperate for power, they also believe that the world has been defiled somehow. They see the presence of industry as somehow evil.”
Valens furrowed his brows. “But what about lithri? I know they use those airships, so they can’t be totally against technology.”
Moneli cocked his head and gave Valens a condescending look.
“Do you know what lithri are?”
Valens shook his head, and Moneli continued.
“Lithri were originally created by the old Inner Kingdom government. They wanted a clean and efficient fuel method to power boats on the sea. They spent years working on assorted methods, until one proved to be the best. These were the lithri. However, the Inner Kingdom soon fell and their estates were abandoned. This was all over fifty years ago. Lithri, however, could not be suppressed after the fall, and soon were put into common usage. Lithri can run for years on their energy, and they’re more efficient than any other known power source, and they’re alive, to top it off. ”
“So what’s your point? It seems like you’re just spouting things I already know.”
Moneli gave Valens a venomous look, but continued. “What most people don’t know is that a lithrum is basically a human brain, sans the sentience. It’s an unfeeling blob of flesh that cannot think and does nothing but what it’s told. There are metal wires attached to it that allow it to send signals to whatever it’s powering, and it has an extremely resilient nervous system to allow it to survive the electricity.”
Valens stared at Moneli for a moment, and then caught on. “So the Crusade is against lithri altogether?”
“No. The Viridian Crusade is the main advocate of lithri. They hate everything else.”
Valens nodded slightly. “And why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because we’ve arrived.”
It was true. He could no longer hear the roar of the ship’s lithrum, although, he hadn’t noticed until now. Valens scrambled to his feet and walked to the door. Elea followed, with Moneli behind both of them. Valens turned his head backwards and asked, in a tone that Moneli couldn’t hear, “Did you get the same treatment as me, then?”
Elea nodded and said, “He wasn’t as irritable, though. I think he likes me more,” she added with a nasty smirk.
Valens chuckled and continued out the hall to the entryway, then down the stairs to the door and out. His feet clattered over the metal and wood of the exit, and he walked off the ramp.
His feet hit sand, and he abruptly felt that the air had changed. It was not the cramped, sweaty-smelling air of the warship, but cool and salty, like the kind he had smelled every day on Calessius. Suddenly, he heard Elea swear an amazed oath. He looked up, and gasped at the sight.
He was standing in a colossal cavern, easily five hundred feet high, made of grey rock. The only light was coming from the entrance, probably a hundred yards away.
He looked back at it and saw the warship floating just behind him, its dark metal hide nearly invisible in the gloom. There must have been some sort of drop-off, because the ship was definitely not light on the draft, and it wasn’t beached.
Ahead of him, the sand stretched out for maybe fifty yards, and then hit a completely blank wall of rock.
No, not completely blank. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a huge iron gate, nondescript and grey, built into the wall. As he wondered what it was, Moneli stepped out behind him, chuckling at the sight of Elea and Valens staring out.
“Amazing, isn’t it? And it’s all natural.”
Valens snapped out of his reverie and turned. “This is your home?” He asked, incredulous.
Elea turned as well. Moneli laughed once more. “No. This is the home of all who oppose the Crusade. I’m just one of those. This is Volana,”
The ship’s crew had begun transporting supplies off the boat, and Moneli walked off to oversee it. Elea turned to Valens.
“This is incredible! I thought he was going to take us somewhere important, but this is beyond that.”
Valens readily agreed, but added “What do you think is going to happen now that we’re here?”
Elea said, “I’m not sure. There should be more people here, and we haven’t even seen the whole place yet. We should just wait.”
“I suppose so,”
They stood in silence for a few moments. Moneli glanced back at them and smiled tightly. He wasn’t sure why he was being so cheerful towards them all of a sudden. He was definitely glad to be back in Volana, but this was dimmed by the fact that the Crusaders had escaped. Worry crossed and re-crossed his mind. The ship had been so close to Volana, in waters that were free of any other islands. If the Crusade had spotted or already knew of the island, an attack would not be slow in coming, and they simply didn’t have the manpower to resist a major assault.
Suddenly, Moneli heard something. There was a creaking and groaning coming from the other end of the cavern. He turned and waited as the enormous gate opened, sliding away from the rock that held it.
Slowly it opened, revealing a procession of men and women pressing against the door. They did not wear uniforms or march in formation as they crossed the sand to the sailors. They simply walked, some running, but all with a friendly demeanor.
Sailors quickly dropped what they were carrying and sprinted to the procession, greeting husbands, wives, children, friends. The sense of friendship was palpable, and Moneli knew he was home again.
Suddenly, Moneli noticed a familiar face. A bear-like man, his skin tanned by the sun and his hair dark and bushy, strode through the crowd towards him, a broad smile on his face. He had an all-consuming beard that appeared to have eaten part of his face, and eyes the color of the ocean after a particularly bad storm.
“Moneli, you’ve been gone far too long. We thought you might have actually gotten yourself into trouble!” He yelled when he was within range. Moneli’s face twisted into a smile, although his black thoughts couldn’t be forgotten. He strode up to the man and greeted him warmly.
“I did get into trouble, as a matter of fact,” he added.
The man’s face twisted into mock-incredulity. “No! You? I never could have guessed!”
Moneli laughed slightly. The man said, “You don’t seem well. Something go wrong on your little excursion?”
Moneli nodded grimly, and the man immediately sobered up. “What was it?” he asked, suddenly grave.
“Our ship was attacked.”
The man snorted in amusement. “Well, that’s not bad. You’re in one piece, aren’t you? If it was just simple pirates, then—“ He caught himself. “You don’t mean… by the Crusade?”
“Yes. They caught thirteen leagues offshore with was a fleet of about fourteen fighters. I couldn’t see a carrier, but they were much too far out to have been on patrol. That’s what worries me.”
“How many of the bastards got away?” asked the man.
“Nearly all of them. We should talk to Lord Herel; he’ll know what to do,” said Moneli.

Valens and Elea stood at the back of the crowd. No one welcomed them; no one even paid attention to them. Moneli and the other man had gone off to do something important, and as such they had no one they knew there.
“Welcome home,” Valens muttered. Elea smiled weakly.
“Do you think we should go inside? It doesn’t look like the rebellion lives in here,” Valens queried.
“Probably. It looks like they’re already moving.”
Indeed, the crowd had turned and begun walking towards the door. The two wandered at the edge of the crowd and made attempts at introductions, which largely failed in the massive movement, at least on Valens’ part.
When they reached the door and turned through it, Valens was unimpressed. A long, dank tunnel lit by electric lights stretched out before them. He sighed and began to walk.
It was a long way, but Valens was not at fault with that. It was the fact that absolutely nobody seemed to care about him that was bothersome. He had been expecting some kind of induction, but instead got a lot of anonymity.
Elea was faring better. She had found a crowd of relatively social inhabitants and introduced herself, and was now happily talking with newfound friends. Valens found that somewhat annoying, but made nothing of it.
They walked in the dimness for probably two hours, and then came to another large door.
This one was better concealed, however. It was hidden behind a bank of moss around an inconspicuous bend in the pathway and would be largely invisible to a casual observer. The door itself was of the same style as the other, but a bit weightier. Still talking, the group made their way to the door and pressed it, using all of their force to open it. It creaked open, and Valens beheld what Volana really was.
He had had his share of amazements lately, but this was something entirely new. A cavern that appeared to be twice the size of the first lay before him, dimly lit grey stone in a vast semi-spherical cave, with the only light coming from the electric lights surrounding the cave at the top. This wasn’t what amazed him, however. All around the perimeter was a series of cavities, all of which contained dwellings. Beds, chairs, doorways, all were visible through holes in the cavern wall. More huts encircled the centre, with walkways connecting the elevated groups at the top. Valens stepped back in amazement, his head close to swimming with the sheer size of it. It was as if all the population of a small city had been cramped into a room and forced to live there.
He shook his head and stepped inside.

“And you’re sure none of them got inside?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. We may be able to work this.”
Lord Sigurd Herel, Steward-Marshal of Volana, was a tall, swarthy man, probably thirty solsti or so. His shoulders were set wide, and his arms were corded with large muscles. His hair, chestnut-colored, short and thick, was kept off his face by a simple headband. Nothing about his appearance gave any indication of his rank or power.
He sat, straight-backed, at a chair at the far end of a dim, torch-lit cavern. Moneli and his companion sat across a table from him. They waited expectantly for his orders.
“Hmmm. Begin evacuating citizens now. I want all able-bodied fighters to stay behind and defend the ones who haven’t left yet.”
“Now, sir? They should at least have time to celebrate the homecoming,” asked Moneli’s companion.
“Now, Andel. If they’re in the middle of a party when the Crusade attacks, we’ll be doomed. I want the soldiers to defend the evacuees until the last have escaped, and then leave themselves. Station ambushes in the tunnels and find chokepoints. We’re undermanned, but not undefended.”
“Yes, sir.”
Moneli and Andel turned to leave, but Herel stopped them. “Moneli?”
“Yes, sir?” He swiveled and looked at Herel expectantly.
“I want you to guard the girl. She’s important.”
Andel joined in. “What about the boy, sir?”
“That’s your assignment. Stay together, but make sure you’re concentrating on your individual targets. The girl is top priority for her abilities, but the boy has a tactical mind. He could seriously hurt us if he’s indoctrinated. Capture is out of the question.”
They nodded and left the room.

The sea was quite calm. It was dark out, but that was normal, and it was good for cover. The scout stood on the edge of a cliff on top of the hills on the surface of Volana and shivered at the cold night air. He’d have loved to be inside, to celebrate the return of the expedition, but someone had to watch out for ships and tell everyone to black out the island if anyone was sighted.
He couldn’t see anything, though, so he might as well end his shift early and get inside where it was warm. He turned around.
There was a battleship floating offshore.

Elea laughed and sat at the long table in the centre of the main cavern. Three tables had been set up to house the party taking place, and they were all crowded by denizens of Volana, chatting, laughing and relaxing. Elea was surprised how easily she had fit in; the people here were very welcoming.
Valens, however, didn’t appear to be doing as well. He’d become darker since they left Calessius, almost unwilling to accept friendship. He hadn’t even attempted to talk to anyone here, and as such they were giving him a wide berth. She had no idea why.
As she began eating her food, she thought about Talodei. Where was he now? Probably in some Crusade prison, awaiting interrogation. It didn’t matter; he didn’t know anything of worth. They would have to release him.
She turned her thoughts back to the party and resumed talking. Three of her friends were chatting things that apparently appeared inane to them – tactical training, watches for hostile ships, weapons training and the like -- and Elea was surprised at how well the women were treated here on Volana. On Calessius, most women were somewhat oppressed, and those who refused control by their husbands were shunned and turned away, like Savalus. Here, everyone was the same. People were ranked on intelligence or skill rather than color or gender. It was better than Calessius, she realized. Incredible.
She shook the thoughts away as she saw a man walk hurriedly to the centre of the room. Upon closer inspection he was revealed to be the man Moneli had talked to when they first came in. He was tall and broad, wearing a brown coat and a worried expression. As he passed more of the crowd, silence began to take hold; the people realized that something was wrong.
As he reached the centre, he stepped up onto a table and stood for a moment, waiting for the last vestiges of noise to subside, and then yelled, “Attention! We’ve just been informed that the Viridian Crusade is en route to attack the island.”
A chorus of murmurs echoed around the room, and Elea felt her heart sink. She looked around for Valens, to gauge his reaction, but couldn’t see him. How had they even tracked the ship? There had to have been a defect of some kind, a traitor… but who could it have been?
“Quiet! Quiet!” came the voice over the murmurs and whispers that had erupted. “It’s liable that their force will be far too large for us to defend against, and the island will need to be evacuated. We want—“
This time, full-scale shouting interrupted the man, Elea heard weeping, some screams and cries of prayer. She herself felt like crying; she’d been taken from her home to what she thought was a safe place, and now it was going to be destroyed?
“Silence! We need every able-bodied fighter to come down to the south beach with Arjun. Civilians and non-fighters are to be loaded into boats and launched for the nearest inhabited island from the eastern cave. Move, damn you!”
The crowd did as they were told, fighters sprinting, hard-eyed, to the south, and civilians shifting in what apparently sufficed for the east in an unorganized mob. Elea followed the civilian crowd for about ten feet, and then turned around at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Moneli behind her.
“Moneli, what the hell is—“ she began.
“You’re far too valuable to get lost in that mob. Come with me,” he said darkly.
Elea did as she was told. She followed the man to one of the many smaller caverns in the room, and then through another door and into complete blackness.

“All right, troopers. The Crusade has four battleships at intermittent points along the southeast edge of the island, and we’ve got the idea that they’re attempting to attack the emergency exit from the main cave. If they take that, they can just enter and the civilians aren’t likely to make it out.”
Field marshal Arjun Serai surveyed his forces with a steely eye. They were all hardened and quite proficient, but so were the Crusaders, and there were more of those. The only advantages they had were knowledge of the land and the defensive position.
He continued. “Our objective is to station ourselves along the ridge in that area. I want heavy weapons and mortars on the higher slopes, hiding behind rocks. The main snipers are to set up on the ridge, and a secondary contingent should spread out in the forest and grasses on their flanks. We already have work teams building earthworks and digging trenches, so the core force is set there. And remember, your objective is to hold that ground for only as long as you have to. As soon as the flares are sent up, head into the tunnels and fight a retreat back to the main cave and seal it off. Submarines will be waiting.
You’ll receive further orders from you officers once you get out there. Any questions?”

There were none. The field marshal let them go and silently prayed that it would be enough.

Elea blinked as the harsh electric lights suddenly flicked on. She was standing in a clean, bare room with a spotless table and chairs around. Valens was standing at one end, looking angry and spiteful, and the man who had spoken to the crowd earlier was standing near him. Moneli walked into the room after shutting and locking the door behind him.
He sat down in a chair and looked the two over. When he didn’t appear to be about to speak, Valens opened his mouth and said, “So, care to tell us why we’re trapped in this board room instead of doing something worthwhile?”
“You are doing something worthwhile; you’re not getting yourself killed.”
“Really.”
“Yes. We’re on the watch for enemy infiltration, and you two are…” he paused and apparently weighed the situation. “Special.”
“And being ‘special’ won’t turn the tides of this battle?”
“Not yet. Not until we can train you.”
“Will that ever happen?”
“Not if we lose this.”
“That seems a touch contradictory.”
“Get used to contradictions. Besides, it’s mostly your sister—“
“She’s not my sister.”
“Whatever. It’s her we need most, in any case. You—“
“Are just a piece of luggage. Right.”
Moneli stood up. Valens smirked, pleased to see he’d made him angry.
“I’ve just about had it with you, you self-centered little hick. I can see you’re in a bit of a spiteful mood, but it’s not my fault if you’re too antisocial to make friends here. Now shut up or I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Kill me? But I’m ‘special!’” he said in a bitterly mocking tone.
Moneli’s nostril’s flared, and he sat back down, fuming. Valens smiled cruelly and moved to the corner.

All was quiet. The sentry could make out three of the four battleships floating offshore, but it didn’t seem as though they were sending out troops. The bulwarks had been completed and the mortars and snipers were all in position, and nothing appeared wrong.
He stepped to another portion of the camp, the brown tents that made up the perimeter making soft flapping noises as the wind blew through them. He imagined that not one of the soldiers was asleep, even though the officers had given them the order. There was far too much to worry about.
He twitched and spun around at the sound of a rustle in the grass, but didn’t see anything other than a startled squirrel.
Sighing and turning back to his post, he wondered when the battle would start. It was inevitable, and there was no real way he could avoid it. Oh well. He supposed that if he’d lived through so many others he would be fine here.

The bullet neatly pierced his collarbone, breaking it nearly in half, slipping effortlessly through his chest cavity and out his back. His eyes widened, glazed and closed. He fell to the ground.

He’d been killed so quickly that he failed to hear the bang. He also failed to hear the moan and whoosh as ten aircraft from the fourth battleship, which had since drifted around to the other side of the island, raked the camp with gunfire.
Suddenly, all was chaos. The tents caught fire, and fully armed soldiers emerged, coughing and shouting, and began to fire at the aircraft. The heavy thdthdthdthdthd of lithrum-powered guns quickly filled the air, as well as the louder noises of aircraft guns. The planes quickly turned around, doubling back and firing on the heavy weapons position. The first flash of a mortar shot lit the hill for a split second, with a subsequent bang as it blew into the side of one of the aircraft, breaking it along the centre and sending it spinning into the grass.
The flashes illuminated the hillside, showing thin, delicate trees and wispy brush along with the deep green grass, as well as the water, which was now filled with boats from the battleships.
Steely, metallic boats slipped across the calm surface, leaving small wakes and carrying at least ten Crusaders apiece. Cries came from the assorted positions as they saw their enemies approach.
They were outnumbered at least five to one.
The heavy weapons teams gathered their weapons, and the snipers sighted along their rifles. The second mortar flash came, and the projectile arced over the ridge and into the water, thudding near a boat and missing it entirely. The rest of the team opened fire. Flashes lit the hillside as mortar shots and cannonballs streaked towards the boats, smashing some to bits and merely splashing others. There were hundreds of boats, however, and there was no way they’d all be eliminated. They took horrible casualties before making it to the shore, but they did make it.
And then the snipers began to fire. Rounds of precision shots, coupled with cannonballs and rockets, streamed off down the hill and into the front ranks of the soldiers. As the boats landed, their cargo charged and started up the hill. Most of the forerunners were picked off by rifle fire, as still more of the boats were smashed behind them. Finally, once they had all landed, the battle began in earnest.
Crusaders poured up the hill, dark green armor glinting in the moonlight, as rifle fire poured into their ranks. Flares of red or white blew clumps of them into oblivion before they reached the trees and were at least slightly safer.
They wouldn’t stop, though. They swarmed up the hill, into thicker forest. Trees were blown into matchwood by the heavy weapons, along with Crusaders, but they kept coming, thousands of them, running up the hill. They were losing numbers very quickly now, though, and the odds were beginning to even.
There was a roar and a whoosh as the aircraft returned. There were only seven of them, this time, but it was enough to draw the fire of the heavy weapons.
The power that had been winning the battle was gone, at least for the moment, and the Crusaders flooded up with renewed voraciousness. As they left the heavier forest, the main body of the army was able to fire. However, the Crusaders were now in range for their own weapons, and they continued to charge toward the trenches.
The advance slowed somewhat, and now both sides were close enough to see the others’ face. The green facepieces of the Crusaders and the ragtag armor of the rebels grew closer and closer, with gunfire separating them.
The aircraft turned and flew off, but by now the mortars were unable to fire for fear of hurting their own side. The snipers gradually grew silent as well, as the two sides grew more and more intermingled.
Finally, the Crusaders reached the trenches. They still outnumbered the defenders, but not by much, having sustained heavy losses on the hill.
The first one vaulted over the edge of the trench, and the bayonet on his gun flashed in the light as it rose and fell.

Moneli and Andel, for Elea now knew his name, were arguing. They were standing in a corner and whispering in hushed tones. Occasionally Elea would catch a word, but it was never enough to piece their conversation together.
Valens was still sitting in a corner and looking sulky. Elea didn’t want to talk to him, but she was getting worried about what must be happening on the surface. She very nearly stood up and walked over to him, but at that point a girl ran into the room, panting and looking exhausted.
Moneli immediately snapped around. Andel walked over to her and said, “What is it? Have the attackers been repelled yet?”
She caught her breath and said, “No. They’ve pinned our forces in the tunnel, and they’re working their way in here.”
Andel swore, and Elea felt despair seep into her.
“But,” she continued, “the sub fleet is ready. The civilians are leaving. You two should get out.”
Valens half-smiled, and Moneli’s shoulders lowered. Andel’s face burst into a grin, and he said, “Well, what are we waiting for? You move, and I’ll guard the back.” Elea felt alive again, and she walked to the door. Moneli got there first, opened it, looked out, and stepped in front of her. Valens fell in to step behind her, and Andel brought up the rear. They walked, single file, across the floor of the huge cavern, toward a door where the fleet would be waiting. Moneli opened it and stepped through, and Elea followed.
They entered a long, narrow, cramped room where the floor dropped suddenly into cold water. A metal tube was sticking out of it, attached to a long grey craft under the surface. Relieved, Moneli stepped into it, offering a hand to Elea.
“Come on. It’ll stay closed if it’s shut from the outside.”
Elea stepped forward.

Andel kicked it shut.

Valens gasped and whipped his head around. Elea stopped short. Moneli shouted silently from the inside of the submarine.

Four burly guards burst through the door, all of them wearing Crusade colors. They grabbed Elea and Valens in a grip that was obviously far too strong to break. Andel said, “It’s been fun meeting you, Moneli. I hope we see each other again. He chuckled, knocking Valens on the back of the neck casually as he did so. The boy choked and slumped forward.
Elea began a shout, and then he hit her, too. The guards dragged them out into the main room, away into an uncertain future.

End of part one.

Happy Belated Holidays!

2005-12-29T08:16:00.000-08:00

So... for Decemberween this year, I got some cool things and such. Prince of Persia, for one. As well as the Firefly complete series boxed set and a ton of other neat stuff. I've picked my story up again again, and everything's cool. Expect not to post frequently, because I'll be messing around with all my handified stuff. Peace out.

This is your brain on creativity.

2005-12-22T20:53:00.000-08:00

Today I went nuts for a half-hour or so (I can get a friend to post a tape) and started babbling about a war between five of six races that was going on in my head. It was random and pretty bizarre, but it's the last day of school and the stress of finals was finally gone, so I just figured, why not?

Back on topic. Afterwards I realized the potential of this idea for a strategy game... which will seem a bit weird after I relate to you what the backstory is. It takes place, as is evident, within my body. The races, however, have nothing to do with germs and white blood cells and whatnot. Quite the contrary, really. The (playable) races are as follows:

Ants and Termites: An alliance of two common insect species that have been festering within the rear skeletal system for a few days and are ready to make their move on the outside world.

Dwarves and Goblins: An unlikely alliance of two ancestral enemies who are forced to defend their ancient homelands within the chest cavity from the encroaching insect threat.

Snakes: The larvae of a huge reptile that infests most of the nervous centers along the spine, these despicable creatures are prepared and ready to make their attack on the brain.

Electric Gnomes: The elite defenders of the metropolitan brain, they have a high technology level and a low population and must defend themselves against the vast serpentine invasion.

Weird? Weird. There are three other races, the Fuzzies, the Insulin and the Adrenalin, but they're all bland and probably unplayable.The Insulin are allied with the Gnomes, the Fuzzies hate everyone, and the Adrenalin are a wild card. Campaigns would be open-ended and probably take place over a map, with the player choosing which troop movements to make and then facing the battle there. It's been done, but never very realistically, and this would allow you to do things you've always wanted to do, like conquer an insane writer's lungs.

Or maybe that's just me. Anyway, give imaginary feedback. It seems possible I could work this into Genome, actually (sans the crackalactic races).

Zalamath Politics

2005-12-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm doing plenty of stuff with our Zalamath friends. I've realized that the Zalamath, by my definition, are a bit cliché; they're humanoid, human-sized and often human-like. In an effort to change them a bit, I've altered their appearance. They're now shaped a bit like the Luminoth from Metroid Echoes, which is to say tall and skinny. They're not quite as extremely insectoid as the Luminoth, but their close. Their eyes are, by and large, perfectly round, and their breathing things (nostrils) are on their forehead. Their mouths are vertical and stretch from between their eyes to the lower-middle of their face. Quite different. They're still stocky enough to wear fairly heavy armor, and I've given them two pairs of vestigial limbs that are in the process of being evolved away.

Politics, though. That's what the blog title is, isn't it? *shuffles through notes* Right. Zalamath, as I've said before, are fairly paranoid, but that only accounts for the actions of the Unified government. The Zalamath nations were only unified because of the invasion, and the Coalition is largely controlled by the Thervul and Sarason countries, the two biggest (and consequently, most paranoid) countries in the world. All countries are able to keep their respective languages, but are also required to be taught Zalamath-general, the equivalent of Esperanto.

The Coalition of Unified Zalamar is the ruling body. There is one repesentative from each country in the Coalition, and they vote and debate on things. The larger countries can afford to pay bribes and keep people on their side, so they largely get the most benefits. They also have the largest independednt militaries, which makes the Unified government a bit skittish. Therefore, paranoia and bad foreign policy are in order.

However, the more liberal people, having become disgruntled, often join the frowned-upon and badly funded Exploration Fleet and leave Zalamar, only returning for debriefing on a particular difficult mission. The Coalition, largely, looks down on this.

So there are my changes and explanations. Hoping for some more soon.

Sean Howard

2005-12-14T19:37:00.000-08:00

Alright. This post doesn't have much to do with anything from my head, but be patient. I've got some more stuff comminatcha soon.

Sean Howard is, in fact, a pixel artist. A really, really good one, and one of the few who was good enough to have his own comic. Was, however, is past tense. This comic, A Modest Destiny, was a generic fantasy to start with, chronicling the adventures of Maxim and his evil twin Gilbert as they clashed in humorous ways and affected a very colorful cast of characters, from Hechter, the living suit of armor with a taste for meatloaf and a penchant for stupid humor, to Ruby, the maniacal and psychotic guard captain. It began to gather steam, eventually heading into a more dark and epic storyline despite clashes with Penny Arcade. However, about five months ago Sean Howard announced that he was cancelling it and would continue to produce it only in paper form.

Today he announced that he wasn't going to finish it at all, leaving the middle of the storyline hanging. He has plans for a new comic or comics, and they won't be AMD. I, as a rabid fan, am quite disappointed. But, I suppose, there is still hope. Anyway, this blog isn't about AMD, that was just a lead-in to those of you who haven't heard of it. If there was a "you," anyway.

This blog is about Sean. He is a very interesting person. He's very creative, a lot like me, and very self-correcting, like me. He seems naive in his early blog entries, and gradually becomes a bit more world-weary and angry. The blog he wrote and still writes is a very critical and very challenging one, and that is its listed purpose: to challenge people. Lately he has attempted to disprove the existance of a god, which he got a ton of negative feedback for. Overall, he's a very good guy, from what I see. Prone to occasional paranoia and extreme anger, but a very good guy nonetheless.

This is not to say that I worship the man. I don't. In fact, I disagree with him on many, many points. I'm not listing them, just as I'm not linking to his blog, because I might get blammed by him (on the off-chance that someone actually reads this and goes there). This is made more unlikely, however, by what I'm about to say: I read the blogs because I disagree. He makes a very good point to show people that there is an opposing viewpoint and that it can be argued quite well. I read them because I think, on many occasions, What is this man thinking?! How stupid!

Anyway, that's a bit of a plug. See the next post for my brainchild of the .

Pixel Art

2005-12-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

As you can imagine, from my latest posts, I've gotten into spriting again. Spriting is a ton of fun, and I really liked it a few years ago when I still had access to a graphics editor. Now I do again, so spriting is the logical conclusion. It's tons of fun, but that's not my real focus.

Pixel art is something like spriting, but original. Spriting involves editing sprites that already exist, whereas pixel art involves creating your own things, which don't even necessarily have to be sprites. I've seen some pretty sweet isometric art on zoggles.co.uk, and I'm getting in to that sort of thing. Assuming I stick with it and practice, I might even be able to draw some things for you. If I can pixel a full-sized version of the Urallian Royal Palace, I'll start calling myself a real pixel artist. All I really have right now is a green orb. Granted, it's a pretty nice green orb, and I've shaded it pretty well and turned it into a tree (next up is rocket)but I'm still nowhere near as good as Zoggles or Squidi. But hey, it is a start.

So on my agenda for pixeling is making a few characters, maybe one to represent me and one to be my godlike self-insertion. Spriting for Genome, a game that I'm on the design team for, is the nearest of my aspirations. Maybe, eventually, I'll get good enough and responsible enough to undertake the behemoth of a comic, but that's still a pretty long ways off. I don't know, only time will tell.

Stuff: Now that I have graphics editor I can start making TC Foroom shirts. How cool is that? I'm also going to "test-run" Zalamar by writing a story about it. Life is looking up.

IN OTHER NEWS:
I was sick. Being sick sucks. Three-letter sentences (this is totally pointless, and I'm surprised you're still reading this far.)

The Awesome III

2005-12-08T19:24:00.000-08:00

Hot diggity dog. I think I'm an addict.

The Awesome II

2005-12-08T18:12:00.000-08:00

I think I might be on to something with this. Schekkitout.
...or, maybe Blogger's flimsy image button will fail and I'll have to wait a few hours. Whatever, I'll have it up for my imaginary rabid fans in a few [unspecified].

The Awesome

2005-12-06T17:08:00.000-08:00

I love parodies. Through the magic of the GIMP, I've spliced Metroid and Final Fantasy. It's not perfect, but, as I hear, it's really good for a first time. *sigh*

2005-12-01T14:29:00.000-08:00

THIS CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS. IF YOU ARE CONCERNED ABOUT RUINING THE STORY FOR YOURSELF BEFORE IT IS WRITTEN, LEAVE NOW.

I've unshelved my old long story. I've decided to write it in a series of parts, with a break in between each one. There will be at least four, maybe more, but I'm currently working on finishing the first. They will each be around thirty pages long, assuming I don't just give up on it like I have in the past (although I like this one more, so that seems more unlikely.) This adds up to at least 120 pages, which is enough to create a large novella or a small novel. If I revise them and add more, which seems likely at this point, who knows? It could end up being quite long.
Anyway, although the titles aren't final yet, here they are:

The First: Ruin
This is the one that sets up who the main characters are (except for one) and what is happening (although not all of it).

The Second: Aftermath
This is all told from Elea's point of view and details her escaping from the Crusade and finding the new home of the rebels (Yes, it will be Elea. I have plans for her.)

The Third: Convergence
This is basically the buildup to the big showdown. Characters discover more about each other and themselves.

The Fourth: Terminus
The final battle, resolution, and ending. Important characters will die.

My idea for the story is to challenge the idea of "good" and "evil." I've had the idea for a long time that there is no such thing as the right or wrong thing to do. There is what is socially accepted as right or wrong, and what people think of as the right or wrong thing to do, but there is no cosmic guiding force that says, "this is good and this is bad." I'm kind of trying to explore that. Valens is abducted by the Crusade, and at first he hates them. They torture Elea, they beat him, and then they send Elea away and he doesn't see her again. He didn't like the rebels, however; Moneli was an antagonist in his view, even before he came to the rebels, because he was arrogant and negligent. Valens was still an idealist at this point, having led a somewhat sheltered and innocent life on Calessius. However, when Szavren, his new mentor, has time to explain what has been going on, he comes around. He has already had time to devolve to a state between idealism and realism, and he is finally shattered by the Crusade's enlightenment. He joins them and begins to fight against the rebels.
Elea, on the other hand, has been treated better by Moneli. She made friends at Volana, where Valens didn't, and her idealism lingered much longer than Valens's. She escaped (with the help of another important character) from the Crusade prison, and she managed to find the remaining rebels, because she had no other home. She sees the Crusade as the baddies, because they took Valens away and kept him, and she most likely thinks he's dead. However, when she gets back to the new rebel base, their numbers have swelled and she finds herself not recieving the same kind of attention. However, she proves herself in battle (with abilities I'm not yet going to name *wink wink*) and quickly moves up. She's proud of the rebellion's egalitarianism and harmony, and, while she realizes its failings and understands them, she becomes a zealot for the cause. Then, when she meets Valens again, probably in battle, both are shocked at the other's continued life, but are on opposing sides. However, rather than the "bad" one coming around and saying that they were wrong and defecting, they argue and eventually become enemies due to their beliefs. Both of them are "right" in their eyes. Neither realizes that the other might be "right," they just believe their own thing. That's the big theme I'm trying to get at.

Just like Joss Whedon.

Comin' Around

2005-11-29T13:21:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving and all that. I had fun, basically played video games all weekend (not really). I'm playing through Metroid Echoes again, and I like it better this time. Fo gigure.

Anyway, I've had my idea for the post-apocalyptic thing fleshed out:

2019 is a year to remember. The US's economy, rising slowly out of the small depression it had created for itself, hits the problem of increasingly high gas demand and increasingly low supply. This conflicts for a while, with people slowly giving up their cars, selling houses and moving into more heavily populated areas. However, the cities are simply too spread out for this to be practical; eventually the US launches an increasingly desperate assault against the Arabian Peninsula. The UN is shocked and comes to the rescue, but very little can be done. Finally, protesters on home turf begin raging against the war, which is faring badly, the huge American military backed up by a failing economy. Slowly, the government turns more and more of its attentions to keeping protests down, and in time the government begins suppressing them with armed forces. This internal conflict gets worse and worse, until finally the protesters actually arm themselves and rebel. The war devastates and tears apart most of the USA, finally leaving a group of stranded alliances between states standing: the Basin Alliance (states bordering the Great Lakes), the Coastal Federation (the east coast and farther west), the Western Coalition (the west coast and farther east), the Central Union (the central and southern states). Most of the northern states are unallied ground. A huge war ensues, with the countries blowing each other to pieces. Finally, the US is reduced to a crumbling radioactive ruin. Much the same thing happens in most first-world countries, eventually leading to copious and desperate usage of nuclear weapons and spillover into other countries. Slowly, the world envelops itself in war and, in effect, starts over.

So, I like this setting. I'm writing a story right now, but it's on hold because of my other one, which I am no longer neglecting.

Bits and Pieces

2005-11-19T20:02:00.000-08:00

Been working on a lot of stuff lately, but haven't deemed it necessary to post it here yet. Of course, now I have. Because I'm posting it.

First: I have downloaded Battle For Wesnoth, and now I'm pretty much addicted. It's a fairly simple turn-based strategy game, so I expect the appeal will wear down until my friends get it, and I can start playing online with them. I'm playing as the Loyalists, who use a lot of versatile cavalry and heavy troops, and I like 'em a lot. I'm not going to write fanfiction about them, because I basically hate it in all its forms, but I thought I'd give you an imaginary heads-up about all the stuff that's been keeping me.

Second: I am writing a new story, probably pretty short. I've had it in my "queue" for a while, and it's post-apocalyptic. My idea is that it takes place a really long time in the future, after the Oil Wars have escalated and mankind has mostly nuked itself away, leaving a few isolated tribes in the desert that suffices for land now. I'm not sure where I'll take it, but there's no more technology or civilization, and no one remembers what the human race used to be.

I have a plot-bunny for a humor story about a kindergarted child who can manipulate the forces of space and time and create things like four-sided triangles at will. Kind of like The Twilight Zone, except funny.

That's about it. I know it's a bit shallow, but you know what they say about shallow lakes... actually, you probably don't, because I don't think they do say anything about shallow lakes.

And with that cheap shot, everyone had a good night's rest.
But what if they didn't?

Zalamath Spacecraft

2005-11-11T19:59:00.000-08:00

So I've been working on little drawings for the Zalamath Defense Fleet. This is the biggest military body on Zalamar, so the spacecraft are pretty high-class. Largely, it's made up of cruisers that orbit Zalamar, all of which carry thirty or so fighters or bombers.

First off is the Cruiser, Warship, whatever. These things are very big. I've got the idea that a fighter is probably twenty-five to thirty feet long, and these things are at least fifteen times that. They're Very Big. They have long, rounded front ends which end in a group of four prongs, two of which are downswept wings. These contain three large engines. They have seven huge ballistic torpedo launchers, which can fire simultaneously and then reload very quickly. They also have twenty point-defense lasers, which leads to good defense as well. A fleet of these is quite powerful, needless to say.

Second is the fighter, which would mainly be deployed for suppression in nearby systems or on Zalamar itself. Used for atmospheric raids, probably to destroy bases or lay down cover fire for ground troops. In any case, they have very similar front ends to the cruisers, except smaller. Obviously. The back end has only two prongs and one engine, and the little wings are swept forward to contain the lasers. These are very fast lock-on lasers that can cut through a lot, but don't have a very good area of effect.

Third is the bomber, which have the same shape as the fighter with longer wings to contain the bombs. They have eight homing, atmospheric torpedoes, along with two space-based homing torpedoes. They could be used for "Death Star" runs on enemy capital ships, or atmospheric bombing raids, so they're more versatile than the fighters. However, they're more sluggish and don't have that "instant response" thing.

I also have a few Exploration Fleet ships planned, but I don't have that set in stone yet, so that won't happen for a while. And now, I choose to recite a list. Of Zalamath military units.

UZDF, Unified Zalamath Defense Fleet
UZEF, Unified Zalamath Exploration Fleet
UZRAF, Unified Zalamath Rapid Assault Force
ITSF, Independent Thervuli Space Front
ISOF, Independent Sarasal Orbital Fleet
UMCDF, Unified Moon Colonization Defense Force
UGPF, Unified Government Protection Force

And there's probably more that will spring up.
Anyway, I'm starting to see comments... but not from people who didn't already know about it. Meh.

An Idea

2005-11-09T17:46:00.000-08:00

WE'VE GONE PUBLIC! If you're a guest from HC and reading this, please comment so I know who's reading.

This has been stewing at varying levels of annoying for quite a while. I have realistic fantasy (Urallia) , realistic SF (Zalamar), weird innovative manga-y stuff (Lithri), and grounded imaginative SF (Europa). However, I don't have totally overblown mages-and-dragons fantasy. Now, I'm not going to create another LOTR spin-off, because I'm generally disdainful of those, but I do plan to have a magic-y fantasy. As such, here are a few ideas:

Salamanders: These beings came to the world with the intent to colonize it and turn it into a military base to launch offensives. They're basically tall, strong humans with blackened, ashy skin which fades to bright red at points where their blood is closest to the surface. They have serpentine tails instead of legs, and can spit fire in liquid form and do crazy things like that. They were defeated, ultimately, by some sort of alien race that defended the planet in the distant past, but many of them escaped and lie dormant on the planet. They have potentially apocalyptic amounts of power, so even one getting free would be disastrous.

Magitechnology: Since the Salamanders fell, magic has lain completely dormant. However, a select few have realized that the planet's energies have a huge potential for powering things. This leads to a lot of magic-and-steam powered devices, because I have a hopeless weakness for steampunk. (It's so cool!)

Cultists: Some sort of Cthulhu-esque cult exists for the purpose of reanimating the Salamanders. They're probably antagonists of a sort.

Anyway, this is pretty vague and/or underdeveloped. I may write a story to showcase the idea, or I may not. Only time will tell.

---IN OTHER NEWS---
I have the absurd idea of creating an entire blog for my "in other news"isms, but I doubt I'll do it. It would get vapid and overemotional.

Urallia's Landscape

2005-11-03T18:37:00.000-08:00

Ohimsosorrythatihaventposteditwasbecauseofandimsorry...
Pah. I haven't been posting because most of the stuff I've been doing has been visual. Like, drawn. And due to my unfortunate lack of scanner, I can't show it to you. Please donate with all your imaginary money.

Anyway, I drew a few pictures of Urallia's assorted environments. I've got really nice panoramas of the Illos wastes and the western shore. Also, Urallia now has a flag, two thin, vertical, blue bars on a white background, with three blue circles in between them. It's very pretty. I also have a full map of the world, which I've been meaning to get to for a while, a trade route map for the Ulandisit Sea, an immediate vicinity map, a large-scale poster-size map or the peninsula only, and the master map of the peninsula. I feel like describing the environs now, so I will.

Northern Urallia
Primarily made up of a range of mountains that I haven't yet named, this covers most of Urallia north of the gulf. The mountains are basically the spine of the country, with the western side covered by plains and a large forest, as well as the city of Nuran, and the eastern side by more plains, as well as the Illos wastes, an expanse of twisted, scarred rocks that covers the eastern fringe of mountains. Far to the north, the mountains dwindle to foothills, and the land is covered by the Gerios steppes, a vast plain of tall grass that covers almost a fourth of the peninsula. The north encompasses most of the farmland and rural areas, and towns tend to be smaller.

Western Urallia
Stretching from the gulf to the southern mountains, this encompasses the warm, touristed waters and the bigger cities, with Raiul, Urillos, Geriul, Sirul, and the capital at Amanil. It is cosmopolitan, warm, rich, and generally a nice place for people to live. The Amanos vale shelters a minority of the nation's farmland, and there are irrigation channels and waterways from estuaries along the coast. The mountains shelter the valley from the harsher winds from the east, so the relatively mild winds from the gulf can warm it. The province also holds the two peninsulas along the gulf, which are much the same.

Central-Eastern Urallia
The belly of the country is the east and center, which holds the cities of Aialur, Illuran, Elluranas and Hiron, all of them veritable trade capitals. Ships move in and out, land routes and river routes thrive, and the area is generally rich and beautiful. There are three major rivers, the Leunul and the Ellul to the north and south, and the Arul to the west, which network the country from Hiron to Raiul, and there is a large plain between them, with a series of tributaries to the north.

Southern Urallia
The south of Urallia is relatively underpopulated and is effectively a huge national park. It's incredibly beautiful, with historical sites like the ruins of Urian and the early Ural settlements along the coast, and enormous mountains toward the centre. However, the only city of note is Orulan, which is not doing terribly well economically. Most of it is fishing villages along the coast of the Ural sea.

In other news, I have finished all of Firefly. It's still awesome, and I plan to see Serenity (the movie) again.

Suremsal

2005-10-22T16:18:00.000-07:00

Sooo... two things. My network's being nastyand my power cord has decided not to work, so my posts will probably be significantly shorter until I can get Applecare so save my life. That said, I'll give you guys something I created as a campaign setting.

Suremsal is a small continent, probably the size of Australia, and then some. It's primarily made up of a huge network of mountains, which form circles and other shapes in the land. Inside the sheltered circles are forests filled with immense trees, 200+ feet on average. Outside the circles, however, are the chasms. Huge tears in the ground, they're basically deep, wide canyons. Each of these hold different peoples.

The forests are home to the He'o'arthen. Primitive people living in villages on the ground and dometimes in the trees, everything they do is a struggle to survive. Most villages are on the outskirts of a forest, and the further in one ventures, the deeper the forest gets. No-one has ever reached the inside of any of the forests and survived. There are huge cats, often eight feet tall at the shoulder, birds larger than any seen on earth, everything is bigger, scarier and nastier.

The mountains are largely barren fields of ice and snow, most of them at least over the cloud level (The clouds are different in this world, but still high up). However, at the junctions of every range their is a Citadel, a huge tower rising up into the sky. These are ornamentally constructed in a way no human could ever match, even setting aside the scale. These are connected to other, smaller towers, always four, always one for each point of the compass. In these dwell the aloof Solevaienol, arrogant, aristocratic folk who found the Citadels aeons ago and have since flourished with the advent. They are pale, tall and slender, and have a technology level roughly equivalent to that of the mid-nineteenth century, rifles and pistols and such. They once controlled nearly all of the continent, oppressing and dominating to no end. Their rule has since been shaken off, but they maintain the same arrogant imperialism.

Finall, the chasms are the third of the major landforms, huge rents in the ground that stretch to miles deep at some points. They are enormous holes that dot the landscape of Suremsal. Within many of the deeper points are cities, made by humans. Fetid, sprawling and brackish, they spread for miles and miles underground. The inhabitants of these cities are the Diazim, short, skinny, and incredibly corrupt. They have the highest level of technology on the continent, with tripod machine guns, semi-automatic rifles, even liquid weapons for the rich. However, they're almost no threat because, simply because each of the chasms is a complete anarchy. In the past, approximately sixty years ago, they were among the subjects of the Solevaienol's rule. They were discriminated against and monitored closely, and many of them decided to rebel. Gathering their top scientists and researchers, they began to formulate plans for new technology. Effectively jumpstarting a multinational industrial revolution, they circulated weapons around the entirety of the chasms with virtually no Solevaienol knowledge. They waited, and when the time was right, the entire chasm system erupted into warfare. Trained soldiers and illiterate peasants took up arms and, within days, forced the Solevaienol out of the chasms. The scientists took power and vowed to create a grand republic in the chasms. But that's when it all fell apart. The peasants disagreed and soon it became necessary for the scientists to force the peasants to comply, effectively returning to the old ways. One by one, the scientists were picked off by assassins, and evetually the entire government collapsed. Weapons technology advancements slowed to a crawl, and the entire chasm network was plunged into anarchy. They've since begun to form organizations, gangs, etc, but the chasms remain largely unclaimed. It's said now that if one strong military can take control of one chasm, they can take them all.

Oopsie.

2005-10-18T15:08:00.000-07:00

Well... I've posted too late for the third time in a row. Three strikes you're out is the rule, so I've decided to delete this blog.
Just kidding. However, I'm not going to make this daily, because inspiration doesn't come quite that quickly to me. In any case, I've decided to post things about the story, which I still haven't named.

Lithri - Created by the Inner Kingdom in its later days, these "brains" still exist and function worldwide, and the plants in the inner islands have been taken over by assorted opportunistic merchant guilds. They are effectively brains on permanent life-support, which have nerves and muscles extending all throughout the thing they power. However, to resist the risk of sentience and rebellion, they are only able to move their muscles in certain ways, which don't allow it to, say, blow up the engine of a warboat and kill everyone. They are fairly resilient, with a dense plating around key areas. The bizarre fusion of metal and flesh, as it were, give them a somewhat grotesque appearance, however.

Aeroes - I'm not actually totally sure what to call these yet, but they're the planes that the Crusade uses to attack the warship, which I still haven't named. They are about fifteen feet long, ranging to sixteen for military models, and are powered by a large lithrum, which sits at the back. It has a rudimentary filter at the tail end where the propellant is expelled, allowing it to remove particles of ick from the lithrum's fluids. The lithrum's muscles also power the dragonfly-like wings, which buzz and increase altitude. There are airbrake-like flaps all along the length, which flip up or down, depending on the apparatus's position. So, to perform an Immelman turn, one would flip the flaps (ha!) up, along with the wings. This would cause the airflow to push it up, and they would continue this until fully vertical, and then fully horizontal again, but upside down. Then, provided the cockpit was closed, they would flip the flaps on one side outwards and right themselves, and continue flying.

A few ideas for the next bit in the story.
***SPOILERS***
The crew of the ship land on Volana island, a remote isle with a small forest and a huge underground complex where the majority of resistance fighters live and work. However, the Crusade were able to track Volana's position from the warship battle after they retreated, and shortly after Valens and Elea join the ranks of the resistance, Volana is put under siege by a huge force of Crusaders and sacked. Valens and Elea are captured in the battle, but not immediately executed. They are sent back to the Crusade's headquarters and seperated, and both meet up with Lord Szavren Zheruvanos, the officer who almost killed them before.

It gets fuzzier here. One of them escapes, I'm not sure who, but another is persuaded to consider the Crusade's cause and finds it preferable. The other escapes and spends months searching for the resistance survivors, eventually finding them in the process of rebuilding in a base stationed on assorted ledges on a colossal waterfall where the ocean effectively pours off into nothing.

I'm not sure what to do with the second bit, and it might be scrapped, but the first will probably happen.

MMO'd

2005-10-09T19:24:00.000-07:00

I talked to a few friends a while ago, and we ran ideas for games by each other. We came up with ideas for, although these are obviously ripped off of Real Ultimate Power, a ninja, pirate, and cowboy MMORPG. Let me clarify; these would be seperate. They would come out as different games, and we'd release patches and do ordinary MMO stuff, and then we'd release some sort of adapter to connect them, allowing you to play against pirates and cowboys in the same game. It would be great. However, I'm not doing the pirate or cowboy games, so I'll just run my ideas for the ninja one by you. Imaginarily.
First off, the term "ninja" in the name is not accurate. At all. It would be historically accurate, so you'd really play as ronin rather than bonafide shinobi, because running assassinations really doesn't lend itself well to online play. Second, there would be NO auto attack. Basically, you'd customize your character's appearance, then choose a weapon, then choose from one of many styles. When you started the game, you would know the basics of your style, as well as how to fight unarmed fairly competently. However, as you fought duels against other players and NPCs, you would learn new little tricks, like how to disarm a katana-wielding opponent with sai or summat. The way you'd fight would be to set different moves to different keys, and then, while fighting, press different keys and do different things. Say, for example, your character uses a katana. If 1 was a vertical slash, 2 was a horizontal slash, 3 was a slash upwards, 4 was a stab, 5 was a strike with the hilt, 6 was a block, 7 was a feint and slash, 8 was a duck and strike upwards, 9 was a retreat and strike, and 0 was a dodge, and you were to fight a duel, it could go from very quickly:
(((Opponent: 7.
You: 0.
You lose.)))
to very slowly:
(((Opponent: 7, 64, 63, 05, 69.
You: 062, 01, 8, 02, 67, 0652.
You win.)))
This offers a lot of possiblities. And assuming that's a fairly basic skill set, just think what you could do with different weapons, styles (because every style changes a strike a bit), and character builds. Coupled with advancements like iajutsu rather than just kenjutsu, you could do an incredible amount of stuff with only ten keys.
And that's just the kenjutsu system. The way iajutsu would work is that you would select a move before starting, and your weapon would be set according to that, and then you would attack and one of you would die. Or you both would. In the advent of a draw, the system would switch abruptly to kenjutsu and you would have to be fairly quick-thinking.
You would learn different things from different battles, so if you defeated a naginata-wielding enemy with sai, you would probably learn a move that allowed you to rush straight at an enemy and stab them very quickly, before they could bring their larger, heavier weapon to bear. If you used this move often, you would quickly learn better dodging and circling, as well as disarming. If you kept at this, your moveset might look like:
1: quick thrust
2: feint and thrust
3: double thrust
4: dodge and thrust
5: dodge to the side
6: dodge backwards
7: disarm
8: reatreat and advance
9: throw sai
0: jump and thrust
What this could do is push your beginning moves out more and more. Eventually you might forget them completely in favor of your own moves. You would eventually create a uniquely-yours moveset, and then finally be able to create your own dojo, and this in turn would let you create an NPC to teach other newbies, adding to the already-long list of styles to choose from. More experienced players could also come and study with you. You would begin to gather support and members of your dojo could begin warring against others, creating a network of guild wars, as well as the omnipresent one-on-one apect of the game. There would be no levelling, no fighting rats or such, and no inequality. A beginner would conceivably be able to defeat a more experienced player, as the entire game would depend on your raw skill and reflexes rather than equipment. The only enemies would be other players and the occasional NPC bandit. Sounds great.

In other news, I've started to watch the run of Firefly... and it's awesome. As expected. I may post about the pirate or cowboy game next, or I may not. Tune in soon.

Heego

2005-10-06T13:36:00.000-07:00

It's not my fault this time! Blogger was down for a bit, so I didn't get to post. In any case, here's a story:

The water lapped against the cliff, playing a whooshing, sighing melody against the rocky shore of Calessius haven. It was peaceful and calm, and Valencius Terasolus felt as if he could simply sink into the rock and forget all of his conscious thoughts and sensations. The fog obscured so much, so heavily, that Valens couldn’t see Caleos port. It had come in quickly, the fog. It had just blown off the sea, and already it was so heavy he couldn’t make out the bustle of port on the other side. He could barely see the torre lumines, although he could easily make out the light they were shining through the fog. It would be a bad day if the Calessius torre lights couldn’t be seen, but fog was fairly common on Calessius. Granted, this was fairly heavy, but it was not terribly high above the average. The mariners often said that fog was the sign of a death at sea, but most in the port of Caleos thought of it as a herald. If there was a heavy enough fog, any ship could crash, anywhere, even in the Haven of Calessius. The water here was calm and smooth, and there were very few submerged rocks, but even so, a ship could hit the shore, or run aground on one of the islands that appeared infrequently in the middle. The fog did make it seem somewhat ethereal, which was one of the words he definitely wouldn’t use to describe Caleos. In any case, it was probably time for—
“Oi!”
The shout came from the edge of the cliff. Valens stood up. “Breakfast, right?” The shouter turned back towards him. “Yeah, stop staring at the fog. It’s not like you can blow it away with your eyes or anything.”
Valens chuckled. “All right, I’m coming.” He hoisted himself up out of the cave he’d been sitting in and walked out towards the cliff. He had found a rocky peninsula stretching out from the cliff where their house was situated, and had been staring off at the fog. But Elea was probably right. He couldn’t blow it away with his eyes, and he needed breakfast. He walked up to the dome of the house and entered.
Talodei’s house was actually built into the side of a cliff, with the dome being the only way in. One would walk into an entryway, and then down a flight of stairs and into a hallway, which forked, so one could take a path to the left, to the bedrooms, or to the right, to the storm shelter, or straight forward, to the kitchen. Valens headed in to the kitchen, and sat at one of the plain chairs surrounding the equally uninteresting table. There wasn’t much in the house. Rumors said that Talodei had been rich at one point, but he was either quite the miser or had lost his money. In any case, he was Elea and Valens’s guardian, and they didn’t feel the need to pry too much. Elea was already seated, and Talodei was walking over with a plate of whitegills, probably caught by him, as Talodei rarely bought anything from the market unless it was a special occasion. He set the whitegills on the table, and then took the only remaining seat, the one across from the large window overlooking Calessius harbor.
Calessius had a reputation for being one of the safest, friendliest ports in the sea. It was shaped like an oblong ring with a hole in it, the two headlands on either side housing torre lumines so, in the case of fog or a storm, ships could make it easily into the sheltered waters of Calessius bay. There had been very few shipwrecks here, and the few that did happen were usually accidents, with the lithrum generally fully salvageable and the vast majority of the crew saved. Caleos port was a town equally known for its friendly nature. Sailors generally lingered here for quite a while, and many residents had been sailors themselves once, too fond of the place to forget about once they’d retired from sailing. However, for this reason Caleos often exploited their monopoly on sailors, as it were, and items at the market were often just a little bit above average.
Talodei said, “You’re looking engaged, Valens,”
Valens gave a start. “Sorry… just thinking about the fog.”
Talodei chuckled slightly. “I’ve never found it all too interesting myself. Somewhat annoying, as a matter of fact.”
Elea remarked, “I’d assume not being able to Caleos would be a blessing to you, uncle.”
Talodei laughed. “Point taken, Elea. I suppose it’s better to eat in peace.”
Elea agreed, then picked up her fork and cut off a piece of the whitegill. She put it in her mouth and her eyes widened. “This tastes incredible! What did you do to it?”
Talodei laughed again and said, “I marinated it a bit. The aftertaste will probably kick in about… now.”
Elea’s eyes widened more, and Valens saw them begin to water. He was glad he hadn’t taken the first bite. Elea swallowed, and quickly swigged a bit of water. Then, “What in the name of Keisen Tevelaus did you marinate that in?”
“A bit of flame crab sauce.”
Elea seemed on the verge of choking again. Valens was amazed as well.
“Where in the name of Keisen Tevelaus did you get flame crab sauce?!”
Talodei closed up suddenly. “I have my ways,” he said, semi-humorously.
That was the end of the discussion. Talodei had a way of gently but firmly letting you know that he wasn’t going to talk anymore about the particular subject and he would rip off your arm make you eat it if you asked any more questions. Many mysteries surrounded Talodei. He was likely a retired sailor, but he wasn’t interested in water as anything other than a nutrient and food source anymore. Valens and Elea had never known a whole lot about him.

After breakfast, Valens said, “I’m going down to Caleos to see if I can find a better lamp,”
Elea stood up. “That makes two of us,” All three of them knew that Valens was making an excuse, but Talodei generally wasn’t pleasant to be around when he felt that people had pried too thoroughly, and Valens liked to let him cool down a bit.
It wasn’t as if he was harsh or mean, as he had had the heart to raise Valens and Elea for sixteen solsti, but he had been known to be strict, though never physically punishing the two.

They walked out of the house, then over to the more softly inclined part of the cliff. As they gingerly made their way down the incline, Elea remarked, “You were right, I can barely even make out the torre from here.” Valens smiled inwardly. As they reached the softer shores, Elea said, “Don’t you think it’ll be hard to hail a boat when we can’t see anything?” Valens thought for a second. “You’re right. We should try walking.”
“Doesn’t it strike you as strange that Talodei doesn’t have a boat? It’s kind of a requirement on Calessius.”
“There are a lot of things Talodei isn’t telling us, I think.”
“Yeah.
They climbed up the incline and began the walk around the sparsely populated northern shore of Calessius. As they reached the forested area, Elea said, “You know, we can probably get Savalus to lend us her boat.”
Valens grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”
They walked through the forest, using the old compass that Elea nearly always had on her as navigation. The tall spruces and firs that were almost the exclusive inhabitants of north Calessius towered over them as if they were some sort of pantheon of gods. They had been walking for nearly an hour when Elea said, “There’s Savalus’s house.”
Savalus was something of an oddity, as she had lived in the forest for years, and only went to market for very special occasions. She was about forty-eight solsti old, although she looked remarkably younger. She had always had sort of an ethereal quality about her, with her wispy, nearly white blond hair and fondness for long robes. She was somewhat like Talodei. Come to think of it, thought Valens, many people who lived on the northern or eastern shores of Calessius were like that. Elea walked up to the door and knocked. Savalus’s house was also built into the side of a cliff, though it was notably smaller than Talodei’s, being meant for only one person.
The door was not answered, no matter how many times Elea knocked. She looked at the door quizzically, as though it would give her some answer as to why Savalus wouldn’t come. She shrugged. “We can probably take her boat anyway. It won’t matter if she’s going to be gone much longer, and if she gets back before us, she’ll probably understand, on the off-chance that she does check for her boat.” Valens nodded. Elea was wrong, but the principle was the same. Savalus simply wouldn’t care.
Valens agreed, and they climbed the sheer cliff using the ladder Savalus had built into the side of the cliff. They reached the sand, and Elea walked into the boathouse. Valens slid the door shut behind her, and they walked up to the dinghy.
It was a small thing, a boat made of tarnished, steely gray metal. It was circular, with a stubby pointed front end to make it easier to move through the water. It was currently mounted on the track leading out to the beach and the water, but as Elea pulled a tarnished lever, Valens heard a soft, muffled moaning noise from the floor as the lithrum started up, and the track began to move.
At this point, Valens had a chance to look around the boathouse. It was small, appropriately, and had a domed roof. It was mostly made of wood, except for the metal circle in the floor, which was likely where the lithrum was housed.
The dinghy had a similar dome under the bottom of the hull, which was exactly the same aside from the fact that it had the propulsion tubes sticking out from it.
The metal of the dinghy screeched against the metal of the track. The belts fed in and out of the floor, moving the boat out slowly onto the beach, and then to the water. It slid into the shallows, stopped by the sand and rock underneath it. Valens and Elea walked out and pushed it into the water. Elea said, “It seems like it’s been a long time since we’ve been out on the water. How long has it been since we’ve been to Caleos?” Valens thought for a second. “About two months.”
Elea gave him a surprised glance. “That is a long time. I’m surprised you still know the way.”
Valens heaved himself up into the boat, and sat down at the main seat. He looked at Elea, and said, with a heavy dose of sarcasm, “Oh, sure. I don’t know the way to a large port city across the bay where I’ve spent my entire life, even though I can see it every day.
Elea sat down and shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Valens laughed and shoved her. “Shut up.”
“Don’t rock the boat,” Elea chided
“It’ll be easier not to if I shove you out first. Now shut up and let me steer.”
Elea agreed, and Valens flipped the large, grey switch that would tell the lithrum to start the boat up. A similar low moaning noise to the one heard in the boathouse started, and the propulsion tubes whirred to life. There was a shift in the moaning, as it dropped in pitch and volume, and the boat started forward. It accelerated quickly, as Valens held down the lever to the speed, and the whirring increased until Valens let go and set his hands on the two steering rods. It was barely needed, however; northern Calessius bay was generally completely empty, and he merely had to set the boat on a southwesterly course and sit back. He said, “Alright, now you can tease me as much as you like.”
Elea grinned. “No, it’s not as much fun when you prompt me.
They made idle conversation for a while, and then Valens said, “Alright, I’m going to need to concentrate. We should be just west of Caleos, and I need to find my way in the fog.” He eased the boat to the right until the compass said they were facing west. He looked straight forward, intensely, waiting for the fog to clear, and then, finally, it did, and Caleos stood before them.

Caleos was a large town, the largest Valens and Elea had ever seen, and it towered above them like some huge, off-white behemoth. It was built in a series of about four distinct “layers.” The first layer had been built over so heavily that it was barely recognizable, but it was what had been built when humans had first landed on Calessius hundreds of years ago, and therefore had very primitive architecture. Most of the buildings had been implanted with a lithrum, but there were models of old ships in the harbor that had things called “sails” and were propelled by wind. Valens didn’t understand how that could work, but he supposed they’d be lighter since they were made of wood. The second, third and fourth layers were built with progressively better technology, with the fourth layer generally having at least one lithrum, and some buildings with as much as six. The architecture, as with most in Calessius, had domed roofs, but only the buildings at the top of the cliff were built into it. The second and third layers’ buildings, especially the third layer, jostled for space on the precarious ledges of the cliff, and the second layer was built in the awkward architectural style that had marked the transition period between the eras when humans had not discovered lithri and when they were in common usage. As such, some of the houses had lithri, some of them didn’t, and some of the lithri were dead.
The dinghy came alongside the wharf, and Valens pulled it to the dock and tied it up with the rope hanging over the side. As he hopped out, one of the Caleosi said, “Hey! Valens! Haven’t seen you in ages.” Valens looked up. Gerius, a tall, blonde youth who always seemed to have a mischievous glint in his eye and had managed to gather a group of crew of young rogues and now spent most of his time wandering around Caleos, or, as he would put it, “helping the community,” looked down at him.
What Gerius generally meant by the phrase was removing the young, hot-blooded people from their tasks, and then coming back later to tease and steal from the people who took the reins and did do those tasks. Valens and Elea were honorary members of that crew.

Valens and Elea spent much of the day wandering around Caleos with a few friends that they hadn’t seen for months. As they rounded a corner, Valens noticed that the fog had mostly cleared up, and he could see across the bay to where Talodei’s house was. He looked at it for a moment, and then swore, realizing he had completely forgotten about lunch. Talodei was very strict on them eating together all the time. He always said something about how it “keeps families together.” Valens personally didn’t believe it, but he didn’t want to make things terribly hard on Talodei, who always seemed to have worry lines on his face for some reason.
He said, “I just realized I need to back at Talodei’s. Nothing personal, but, uh, I’m going to get railed at if I don’t leave now, so I’m going to leave. Now.”
Elea caught his eye and nodded slightly. Valens nodded back. This generally meant something along the lines of “we’re doomed.”
The others looked blankly surprised. Gerius, who was the general leader of the group, and subsequently the one who knew the most about them, winked at the two, and then turned back towards the others.
“Well, you heard them, didn’t you? Who are you to question the interests of the strange foreigners who live in the vast and unknown hinterlands across the bay?”
The group laughed, their tension relieved. Valens and Elea said their goodbyes and strode back to the dinghy.
“We’re still doomed. We didn’t even get the lamp, and Talodei’s going to be livid when we get back.”
“That’s always struck me as strange. It’s like he doesn’t want us to be away for too long. Like he’s afraid or something.”
“Afraid of what?”
“I don’t know.”

As they neared the house, Elea said, “Wait, shouldn’t we take the dinghy back to Savalus’s place?”
Valens looked at here, then swore and said, “Yeah, I guess we should. I hate having to keep turning around, though.”
As they neared Savalus’s house, however, they noted a plume of smoke rising from the cliff. Valens and Elea exchanged glances, and then piloted the dinghy to the beach, letting it rest in the shallows, and then pushing it onto the track. Valens walked into the boathouse and idly pushed the lever.
There was no moaning noise. Valens pressed it up and then down again, but nothing happened. He hopped off the ledge where the lithrum activator was located, and inspected the metal portion of the floor where the lithrum should have been located under.
It was dented in. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a large dent in the floor over the lithrum containment. Sickly yellow fluid dribbled through a hole in the side and congealed at the lowest point. He called Elea in, and together they inspected it.
“What do you think happened to it?” Asked Elea, incredulously rubbing her hand over the dent. “This doesn’t look like an accident.”
“I don’t think it was. It’s probably got something to do with the smoke,” said Valens, grimly looking at the dent. “The lithrum’s dead.”
“We need to get up there!”
They scrabbled up the ladder to the top of the cliff, scuffing their feet in their haste to get up. Valens hadn’t realized how arduous it was to climb, as he hadn’t had to climb it quickly before, but it was quite strenuous to pull himself up rung after rung as fast as he could.
When they reached Savalus’s house, however, they found the dome collapsed in on itself, smoking. Elea scrambled to the edge of the rubble and tried to slide down the pile of debris where the stairs should have been, her face frantic and worried.
“Elea!” Valens veritably screamed, “There’s no time for that! We need to get back to Talodei’s house!”
She stared at him for a second, then nodded slightly and climbed out of the black, smoky mess that had once been the house of their family’s best friend. Elea sprinted towards Valens, then slowed to a jog as he began to run as well.
Savalus’s house was quite far from Talodei’s as it had taken them an hour to walk there, and they were tired from the climb up the cliff, as well as anxious, but they managed to push themselves enough to make it to Talodei's house without collapsing from exhaustion.
As they reached it, they both inwardly sighed with relief. It was as uninteresting and pristine as it had always been, just as they had known it since they were children. Valens grinned weakly and said; “Now all we have to do is tell him about Savalus.”
Elea reached the handle and pressed it. The door slid in, and Valens strode through after her. They walked down the stairs and entered the dining room.
Elea stopped suddenly.
Valens walked into her and swore. “Elea! What was that for? You could have—“ He caught himself.
Looking over her shoulder, he saw a group of eight people wearing flowing robes made of an iridescent, deep green fabric which came down to their knees and had a slit down the middle, as well as shoulder plates and upper-arm guards made of burnished green metal. Through the slits in their robes, Valens could see breastplates and greaves made of a similar metal, and their upper faces were obscured by masks with a large, glassy piece in the front and a long, snug-fitting crest on the back, which gave way to a chainmail coif encircling the neck. They carried weapons that consisted of a sharp, broad, slightly curved blade attached to a handle that was a bit longer than it. They stood, with their weapons at the ready, in a semicircle, surrounding Talodei.
Talodei, his thick, dark hair in disarray, was on his knees with his back to the guards. He bore cuts and scratches, and the left side of his face was covered with an ugly, blue-violet bruise, which had swelled over his eye, forcing it shut. Blood dripped from an open gash in his chest, and his left wrist was twisted into a bizarre position.
However, as Valens looked past Elea in stunned astonishment, he noticed one more figure. Holding a similar weapon and wearing similar robes to those of the faceless attackers was a tall, exquisitely armored figure. His robe was inlaid with strips of metal that were nearly black, and his armor was ensorcelled with serpentine glyphs that spiraled and looped like the coils of an eel. His helmet had a low double plume of black that fell back over his plated shoulders, and his weapon had the likeness of a dragonfly carved into the haft. His faceplate was more luxurious than that of the guards, with two cheek-plates that swept across the side of his face. He stood with his weapon at Elea’s throat, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
“Well, it appears we’ve landed the two other fish,” he said, chuckling slightly. He cocked his head, looking at Elea. His eyes drifted visibly downward. “Not a bad catch, I see. It’s a pity I’ll have to kill you.”
Elea gave a shocked look. Valens’s eyes widened slightly. What had happened here? Had these people just invaded their home at random and decided to kill everyone? No, they had the air of those who had been given orders and were filling them out. But who were they?
“Zedaar, take the old one back home for questioning,” said the man briskly. He turned back to Valens and Elea. “These two can’t tell us anything. Kill them.”
Valens’s heart sank. As the man known as Zedaar and the commander of the force walked up the stairs, one of the faceless attackers strode up to Elea. However, as Valens looked at her, Talodei caught his eye.
He could never be sure how it happened, but in the split second that their eyes met, Valens realized what he had to do. But, as Talodei was marched out of the room, he noticed something.
Caleos was burning
The great glass window that looked across the bay of Calessius had been shattered, and Valens could see across to Caleos. It was in flames, and he could see droves of flying monstrosities storming towards it, He wondered how he had not noticed it before…
…And then he blinked, and it was gone. Caleos was as it had always been. He turned back to Elea just in time to see, after her hands were bound, the cruel spear being swung up. He surged forward, barely aware that his own hands had been bound, and knocked the guard to the side with his shoulder. In the crowded landing, the guard stumbled backwards and tripped over an upturned chair that must have been knocked in from the dining room. He landed heavily on his back, and the rest of the guards pressed past to capture the already-fleeing Valens and Elea.
Valens rushed into the hall, and down into the storm shelter. Elea hissed, “What are you doing? There’s no way out down here!” Valens made no reply and slammed the door shut, bolting it.
In the cramped quarters of the shelter, the only lighting came from the outside and the one lumine, in its glass pane. Valens and Elea rubbed their bonds off on one the jagged, splinter-ridden edges of one of the numerous wooden planks in the room. This was one of the two rooms that Talodei had allowed lithri installed in, and Valens was glad of that fact, for if the room hadn’t a lithrum, it would have been nigh-impossible to do what he was doing.
His fingers scrabbled at the wood in the floor, trying to pry a specific wood panel free, just as Talodei had communicated he should do. He heard voices from outside the door, and figured it was their captors. He heard the sound of a weapon clinking, and then there was a volley of crunches on the door as the captors lashed it with their weapons. Elea flinched away from the door, and Valens winced as he realized he had limited working time. The door was strong so as to avoid being knocked down in a particularly fierce storm, and it was barred, but he doubted it could hold against the men outside.
“Help me get this off the floor, will you?” He muttered urgently to Elea.
“Why? It’s not as if you can tunnel out.” She said fatalistically.
“Just help me.”
She gave a reluctant sigh and bent down to work with the flooring. Valens was surprised. If he hadn’t had Talodei’s advice to hold onto, he would have been scared to death and nearly hysterical if faced with execution. Elea had had no such thing to help her, and she was holding up well. The work was faster in tandem, with both of them trying to pry the wood loose from the floor. Valens winced every time the door crunched, and he began to realize it was weakening fast. He started to see beams of light coming through the holes in the door, with dust motes wheeling through the air and disappearing. He cut his fingers as he frantically tried to pry the wood off the flooring, realizing that there was probably not enough time, as the bar began to give way and crack. He saw the first blade stab through the door, then another and another, until the door must surely give way at the next attack…
…And then the plank gave way, its broad sides coming off the floor and revealing not rock but a ladder, covered in cobwebs and dust, leading into the abyss. Valens motioned for Elea to head down, as she stood dumbstruck, gazing at the hole. It was as broad as the plank, which meant just broad enough for Talodei to fit through, so there was ample room for them as Elea climbed down hurriedly, and Valens went down after, swinging himself onto the top rung and pushing down to get to the next.
And then the door snapped forward on its hinges and the bar gave way, and the green-armored guards boiled through like blood from a wound. One of them made a frantic grab for Valens, and succeeded in smashing his armored gauntlet across his nose with enough force to make his vision flare with pain. He heard a snap as his nose broke, and his hands left the rail, allowing his body to succumb to the force of gravity and fall. He managed to catch himself out of reflex, and barely missed falling into Elea, but now his eyes were filling with tears and the pounding, throbbing pain in his nose was making his thoughts swirl as he fought to stay conscious long enough to get down the ladder. He began to think he could make out ground, but now there were guards swarming down the ladder in the dim light, and he wasn’t sure if he would make it. He saw Elea touch ground in front of him and motion for him to get down.
He let go and felt his feet touch ground, but his knees betrayed him and he fell forward. Elea caught him, getting him onto his feet, and rushed forward towards the dark shape at the end of the low room he had landed in. As he came closer and the fog moved away, he began to make out the vague shape of a metal oval. The guards had touched bottom now, and he heard vague oaths as they began to chase them. Valens was dimly aware of the oval coming into focus now; it appeared to be a vehicle of some kind, with wings attached to the sides, and a rudimentary cockpit. He forced himself to turn his head and saw a spot of daylight, and was barely cognitive of Elea hoisting him into the vehicle before blackness took him.
Elea grimaced as she pushed Valens into the contraption. It appeared to be some sort of vehicle, and she hoped it would get them out of the cellar. She had no idea what was going on, but she figured flying the vehicle off into uncertain death was better than returning to the attackers for certain death, so, with Valens’s crumpled form at the back of the hole that constituted the pilot’s leg room, she pushed herself up the ladder and entered the vehicle, kicking the ladder down after her.
It was shaped like some sort of insect, with a sort of abdomen and cephalothorax, the abdomen being where the lithrum was located, she suspected, and the cephalothorax where the pilot sat, or rather lay, as there was a low, long ramp that cushioned the chest and hips and ran below the abdomen of the vehicle. She lay down and studied the controls, then looked back and saw the guardsmen nearing her. The controls consisted of two levers, not unlike the dinghy, a switch, and a squeeze handle on both the levers. She looked at them, and then flipped the switch.
There was a low, loud moan, growing in power and strength, and she saw the guards slow somewhat. However, as they saw that she had no idea how to power it, they surged forward again. Elea flinched as the first guard began to clamber up the tarnished metal side of the vehicle, and looked at the controls in confusion. She had no idea how to make it accelerate, and she quickly realized she would have to take a gamble.
She swore explosively and squeezed the handles on both sides. There was a burst of propellant and the long, bluish wings on both sides of the vehicle began to buzz like a dragonfly’s wings, and then there was a second burst and the moaning faded into inaudibility as the vehicle shot forward. It moved into a shallow, narrow cavern, coming ever closer to the daylight, and Elea felt as if her hands were glued to the levers. The guardsmen stopped running and the one who was on the side of the vehicle hit the side of the cavern and flew off, a large, mangled dent in the side of his armor belying pulverized ribs beneath.
The vehicle sped off into the daylight, and Elea felt a whoosh of wind and a slight change in pressure as the she came out of the cave and saw the water of Calessius Haven sparkling underneath her.
She breathed in relief, and then realized that she didn’t have the least idea of how to pilot the vehicle. She was moving incredibly fast, she realized, and felt the wind whipping her hair back off of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, but then opened them and figured she didn’t want to run into anything. The speed was unbearable, however. It would have been much easier if she’d had goggles, but as it was her eyes were in constant pain.
She was now 30 feet above Calessius port and had no idea what to do, while moving in excess of 80 miles per hour. Ignoring the facts and working on a hunch, she let up some of the pressure on the squeeze handles. The vehicle decelerated slightly. She let up some more pressure and was able to bear the speed without her eyes half closed. She then tried to figure out how to turn. She guessed it had something to do with the levers, but they pushed in and out of the cockpit rather than moving to the left and right like most boat controls. She pushed the right one in most of the way…
…And screamed as the right two wings of the ship stopped altogether and she began to spiral towards the water glittering below them. She pulled the lever out, but in her haste pulled it out too far. She screamed again as the right wings buzzed frantically and began to pull the right side of the vehicle up, threatening to tip it over and send her over the edge. She pressed it in more, and was rewarded with a decrease in altitude and a steady pace. That was one way to turn, she supposed, but what if…
…She let up on one of the squeeze handles slightly, and one of the propellant tubes dropped its output. The remaining one kept the same amount, and the vehicle turned slowly to the right. She sighed and let the squeeze handles equalize. Now all that was left was to figure out how to land.
As this thought occurred to her, she realized that she had no idea at all of how to land, and she wondered how long this thing could stay in the air, as she wasn’t going to risk landing. Presumably, as this ran on lithrum fluids and used the lithrum’s muscles to propel the wings, it could stay in the air for years, but it seemed as though it was fairly old, and she wasn’t at all sure if she wanted to stay for that long. She also definitely needed to get Valens to a medic.
As this list of things ran through her mind, she noticed something.
There was a buzzing coming from Talodei’s house. Elea’s heart sank as she looked back over the metallic surface of the vehicle’s main chassis and noticed three of the flying vehicles elevate out of the woods behind Talodei’s house and speed towards her. Frantically, she turned the vehicle haltingly away from them and accelerated slightly, the wind stinging her face. The vehicles that her pursuers were in had two cockpits, one raised above the other. She had no idea why, but hardly cared.
The guards behind her were obviously competent pilots, and their vehicles were faster than hers, as well as in top condition. She realized that it was unlikely she would have much of a chance, so she would have to land in Caleos and hope to lose them.
She accelerated a bit more and tried to bite back tears as the wind stung her face. She decreased both of the wings’ output and made a shallow dive toward the bay, but barely pulled up in time to avoid smashing into the waves. She managed to bring the vehicle above the waves enough to risk turning, then did, the propellant hitting the water and sizzling and the wings on the left side kicking up foam as she sped away to the left. The guards following her managed a much sharper turn than her, and their vehicles seemed to be opening up at the bottom-front to reveal two metallic rods. She turned back the way she had come, and felt an impact shake the vehicle. She looked back and saw one of the rods smoking. They were trying to shoot her down.
Desperation clutched her as she sped towards land, not caring if she crashed as long as she could get away. Another bolt juddered the vehicle, and she heard an ugly screeching noise from the back. That couldn’t have been Valens, could it? She thought for a moment, fears darkening her mind, and then grasped it. The lithrum had been punctured.
A black wave of fear flashed through her body as another bolt hit her. The vehicle began to shudder, and the moan became punctuated with screeching. She forced herself to look ahead and began to pull up to avoid the cliff at the other end of the bay, but the propellant began to falter and she became more and more frantic. Finally, she pressed both levers in, merely hoping for a miracle.
The vehicle shook, and she gasped as the propellant stopped completely. The wings, however, buzzed and launched the vehicle straight up, the moan beginning to die down as the lithrum gave in to death. A bolt slammed into the vehicle and it shook, as the lithrum died completely with a loud shriek that echoed in Elea’s head.
However, the blast had knocked the vehicle forward just enough to give it some forward momentum, and that continued as the vehicle fell, streaming pungent white smoke…
…And then it hit the lip of the cliff, and exploded in a blinding flare of white. Valens and Elea were blown clear like rag-dolls, their limbs flailing weakly in the air as they flew into the pine woods, and Elea felt her body strike the tough ground of the woods just outside of Caleos with a force that made her body shudder. She tried to roll over and force herself up, but her muscles betrayed her, and she could do little more than keep her eyes opened and listen to her ragged breaths.
The silhouettes of her pursuers’ vehicles floated over the edge of the cliff, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Nearby lay Valens, still unconscious. She saw the vehicles land nearby and the guards get out of their cockpits. She saw them begin to walk over to her, and she hurriedly held her breath. He bent down over her and took off a glove to reveal tanned skin.
That came as a surprise to Elea, who couldn’t see how these faceless monsters in their green carapaces could be human like her and Valens. The guard put a hand to her wrist, and she felt her heartbeat pound against his hand.
The man stood and nodded, then raised his blade.
Elea squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would be over soon…
But it never came. She heard a whoosh, a clang, and a muffled thump. She opened her eyes, feeling them widening in incredulity as she saw a figure wearing pauldrons and a cuirass, as well as a short mantle of black, trimmed with white, and a shirt of thin plate-mail dash past the body of her executioner and plunge a long, thin curved sword into the throat of another guard, then spin, parry another strike and cut through a third guard’s throat as if it were paper. He vaulted over the cockpit of one of the parked vehicles to avoid a stab from behind, and landed…
…In the path of another strike, that he couldn’t possibly dodge. Elea gasped and held her breath, watching as…
…He backflipped onto the top of the vehicle and slashed two-handed into the head of a fourth guard, He hopped off and dashed towards a fifth, his sword flashing upwards and downwards, meeting the strike of an attacker in midair and shattering the blade, his own cutting through the ribs of the guard.
He looked around for the sixth, and then saw him running to get to the driver’s seat of another vehicle. The guard passed Valens and Elea, rushing through the trees, and then the new attacker surged after him, his feet leaving the ground as he gathered speed, and then threw himself forward, his body losing substance as it dissolved into a fluid, shifting, seething blue stream that passed by the guard and through him, slicing a thin, diagonal path down his spine and across his side. The man dropped forward in mid-step, blood oozing from the rent in his armor.
Then the stream came to rest and reformed into the man. He had pure white hair that passed his shoulders and framed an arrogant, angular face with high cheekbones, and deep, yellow eyes, which seemed sorrowful to look at somehow. He looked around, then wiped his sword on the short grass and sheathed it in an ebony scabbard at his left hip. He walked over to Elea and looked down at her. She looked up painfully.
“Get up,” the man said levelly.
“Might have – ngh – might have some trouble with that,” Elea’s voice was sarcastic and humble at the same time. “I’d appreciate some help.”
“Don’t expect me to give you any.”
Elea muttered a few curse words under breath, and struggled against gravity, which suddenly seemed much stronger than before, eventually managing to hoist herself into a sitting position.
“I’m disappointed,” the man said critically. “I would have expected someone this far out from civilization to be hardier than you appear to be.”
Elea snorted derisively, but was tactful enough not to act angry with the man who had killed six of their guards.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” The man asked suddenly.
“No. It seems like you do, though.”
“I do, but it hardly seems polite to tell you anything while your friend there is still unconscious.”
Elea cocked her head quizzically, but her inner self was growing more and more frustrated with this man. He had appeared out of nowhere and saved both their lives, but now he wasn’t allowing her any information and seemed to think he was infinitely superior to them. Elea supposed she shouldn’t care, but it was becoming harder not to.
Keeping her anger under control, she asked, “Alright, if you won’t tell me anything else, at least tell me your name.”
He looked down at her, and then said, “How do I know you won’t just use it to get all my friends to do things for you and the like? I can’t go around randomly giving my name out.”
Elea bristled inwardly. She could barely keep her cool.
“You can apparently go around randomly saving people’s lives, however…”
Valens, who groaned and rolled slowly over, suddenly thwarted the argument that had been rolling closer, apparently awake now.
“Wha—what happened?” He rasped. The man walked over to him.
“You tell me. Why were you unconscious?
“I think my nose’s broken…”
“Heh. You black out because your nose breaks? Typical.”
Elea shifted angrily. “Typical of what?”
“Of your sort. You’re so used to being pampered and loved that as soon as the smallest thing goes wrong you all go to pieces.”
Valens opened his eyes more clearly. Elea could see an obvious spark of anger behind them.
“The smallest thing? Our home was attacked for no fathomable reason, some pervert of a commander sentenced us to death, we were apparently shot out of the sky, and now some arrogant do-gooder from some aristocrat’s estate is commenting on our “pamperedness” and inferiority without offering a scrap of help. I’d hardly call that the smallest thing.”
“I’ve seen worse,” was all the man offered. Strangely, he didn’t seem at all perturbed by these comments. Elea almost felt that he relished them.
She shifted again. “Well, now that you’re awake, this idi- man can start explaining things.”
The man sniffed. “I’ve decided that it’s too risky to tell you anything until we get back to my dwelling.”
Elea sat, dumbstruck.
The man chuckled. “My name, as you may refer to me, is Moneli Kovonos.”
“And where is your ‘dwelling?’” asked Valens, a little bitterly
“Nowhere around here.”
Moneli waited until strength returned to Valens and Elea, and then walked towards the south. He hadn’t sat the entire time he had been talking to them. Valens and Elea exchanged glances and followed. He led them into the fourth layer of Caleos, receiving a few odd glances from people who weren’t used to seeing armored swordsmen in their town. As they made their way to the main road in Caleos, which led down the cliff through all the layers, Valens idly glanced at the blue sheen of the harbor. There was something different about it.
He turned to Elea and said, “There’s a battleship in the harbor!”
Elea looked down incredulously. Indeed, there was a battleship floating in the harbor. Not a very big one, at least in terms of battleships in cyclopedias they’d seen, but a battleship nonetheless. The children of Calessius held the ships in awe, and although Valens and Elea no longer considered themselves children, they were still amazed that a ship such as this was docked in their harbor. It was made of metal, tarnished and grey like most utilitarian vehicles, and was in the shape of a grossly lengthened hemisphere, pointed on the front end. There was a great, grey post rising out of the top of it, with a small sphere on top. This in turn had a menagerie of curved, circular panes on its every end, as he saw it, there were many smaller ones on railings next to it. A similar post rose on the back. Valens suspected that these were the oculi, used for spotting other ships at a distance far greater than any human eye could see. The whole ship teemed with life, but he assumed most of the action took place on the lower levels.
It had a large array of guns poking out of the side, and there was a larger one on the front. It was flying a banner that Valens had never seen before, a blue circle over a white, four-pointed star, both of which were over a blue field.
Moneli led them past the third and second layers, arriving at the first. He stepped onto a wharf.
The one the battleship was tied to.
Valens had been becoming increasingly more confused, and this was not helped by the dull, throbbing pain of his broken nose. It didn’t seem to have been a bad break, but it still hurt, and his nose was crooked, making him increasingly self-conscious. However, they were apparently about to board a battleship, and that would normally be enough to make him scream. However, considering recent events, he didn’t feel up to screaming. He was, however, very annoyed.
He sprinted past Elea and up to Moneli.
“We ‘re boarding the battleship? Leaving Calessius?”
Moneli looked back at him, seeming genuinely amused. “Of course we are. What’s left for you here?”
Valens hadn’t thought of that, and as he thought about it, it occurred to him that he had no reason to stay here. Talodei had been taken away to someplace he only knew by what the commander of the guards had called it, “home”, and as it was, he had nothing better to do than to leave. He fell in to step next to Elea.
“So I guess we’re really leaving.”
Elea blinked. “Of course we are. What’s left for us here?”
She passed him and walked onto the boat.
It began to sink in, then, that nothing in his life could ever be the same after this. No matter what happened, if he ended up saving Talodei and finding out whatever was going on or not, he could not turn back from this point. He supposed he should feel sorrowful about this, but his mind was flashing with too many questions for any of that to get in the way at the moment. His previously mundane life suddenly seemed caught up in something infinitely more important than what it had been.
He stepped on to the battleship.

The entryway was a short, narrow metal passage that Moneli had to stoop to get through, dark and dank and smelling of metal, but they passed through it and entered a larger corridor.
On either of the corridor, which was painted in subdued blue-grey tones, side stood mariners of some sort, both wearing white tunics with a blue, four-pointed star over their heart. They snapped to attention as Moneli passed, giving Valens and Elea puzzled glances. This confused Valens. Was Moneli some sort of military leader? That could explain his skill, but he had a different sort of air than these sailors.
Moneli led them up through the corridors of the gently swaying ship. These were probably the passengers’ quarters, as they seemed fairly out of use and unimportant, which was probably how the people on this ship would treat passengers if they were at all like Moneli.
As they headed up a flight of stairs, Valens realized that this ship was probably bigger than Talodei’s entire house. The thought worried him.
The stairs led to another hallway, this one much smaller. Probably the sailors’ quarters, thought Valens, as he saw numerous mariners of the same sort as below, lounging about or talking to another. Moneli led them around a corner and up a second flight, and then into an elevator. He tapped a few buttons and stood back. A familiar low moaning noise sounded, and the elevator began to rise. Valens stood back and listened to the moaning, and then it stopped and the elevator creaked to a halt. Moneli punched a button in, and the door slid open.
Valens stepped through after Moneli, and saw a wide room painted with a deep blue color, almost black. There were numerous sailors in here, Valens guessed about ten, but they were wearing darker, more formal uniforms consisting of a white tunic with a deep blue vest and a pair of epaulettes. They snapped to attention as Moneli entered. The room was arranged with a pipe running down the middle, displaying black and white images on three sides, and chairs surrounding the pipe, with mariners going about tasks around them. There was a wide, slanted window at the front of the room, through which the two could see the headlands of Calessius and the open sea beyond Moneli waved his hand, and the sailors went back to their tasks. Valens and Elea the room, and a few sailors eyed them oddly, but on the whole they seemed unnoticed.
Moneli sat in an empty chair, leaving Valens and Elea to stand. He gestured to one of the sailors, who came and stood in front of him.
Moneli looked at the man, and then said, in tones that were only loud enough for the man, Valens, and Elea to hear, “We have the cargo. We’re leaving now. Is that understood?”
The man nodded once, and then walked to a tube and called into it, “We are casting off. All active hands to work stations. Repeat - we are casting off.”

While Valens was slightly offended my Moneli terming him “cargo,” He had already learned to avoid offense with the man, and was too excited by the idea of the open sea to care.
He began to hear a monotone, deep bellow emanating from the ship around him, and figured this was the lithrum of the warship, deeper and more powerful than most.
Sailors began to hurry about, attending to this or that, perusing the oculus displays, bringing reports to Moneli and the man he had spoken to, who Valens now assumed was the captain.
The captain began to walk from station to station of the bridge, asking various questions of the people at them. When he seemed satisfied, he turned to the speaking tube and called, “Lithrum to cruise speed. Set course for Volana.”
The lithrum roared to a higher pitch and the warship groaned and shuddered slightly as they cast off from Caleos harbor and slid off towards the headlands. The roar heightened in pitch slightly, and Valens saw water slide past the boat and Caleos shrink behind.
He and Elea rushed to the front porthole and looked out, nearly pressing their faces to the glass like giddy children, and saw the torre lumines come closer, growing in size even as Caleos shrank.
In time, the torre were past them, and they could only look back at the place where their childhood had been spent, the one place in the world they knew, suspended in the endless, deep blue of the ocean, and wonder.

Valens felt the final weight of his separation with Calessius Haven sink into his abdomen like a lead block. He had never left Calessius, and until he had come of age, he had never wanted to. Granted, he had felt that the prospect of leaving and going to a sister island would be exciting, but never much desired it.
Now, he was on his way to some place he had no inkling of, on a warship he had never seen in his life, with a man who could very well have been the ghost of Keisen Tevelaus himself for all they knew of him. His guardian had been taken to prison somewhere, he had nearly been killed, and he was now throwing his childhood to the winds and leaving.
Valens walked over to Moneli, and, with an effort to keep casual, said, ”Which room am I sleeping in?”
Moneli looked at him appraisingly, and then said, “I’ll see you to it.”
He led them back the way they had come, to the passengers’ quarters, and then down a side hallway to a pair of doors.
“You sleep here, Elea,” he said, gesturing to the left door, “And the other one is yours.” He said to Valens.
Valens thanked him vaguely, and then slid open the door and entered the room. He felt tears sting his eyes as he sidled towards the bed, and they began to trickle down his face as he knelt, and then lay on the bed. He felt a sob rise in his throat and let it come, racking his body with a hoarse tension. Another rose, and another, until his body shook and his eyes began to darken with the onset of unconsciousness,

He awoke later, feeling the calm, rocking motion of the boat and the omnipresent roar of the lithrum. He felt strangely refreshed, as though he had just splashed himself with cold water.
He picked himself up off the bed and noted his surroundings. There were no windows, but that wasn’t too strange. A crude chest lay in the corner, a chair next to it, and a washbasin and bucket of water next to the bed. Nothing was special about the bedroom, nothing felt as lived-in as his bedroom on Calessius.
He pushed that thought out of his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to think about Calessius, not now. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to become too sorrowful. He couldn’t allow himself to waste away.
He washed the caked tears off of his face in the basin, and then stood up. He strode up to the door, feeling the boat rock underneath his feet as he did so. His hand rose to the door handle and pushed.
It didn’t move. The door was locked.
He put his weight into another push, and then swore loudly and sat in the chair.
“Great. So what do I do now?” he asked himself.
He couldn’t allow himself to sit here and stew over the past’s events, but he was also apparently being locked in a windowless room, so he didn’t know what to do. He could sleep, he supposed, but it would take awhile to do so, and he would have time to think, which was a large problem at this point. He couldn’t get out,
So—
“Oi! Valens!”
A voice called from somewhere. Valens looked around in surprise. Who would be calling him?
“Over hear, you idiot, it’s me. Elea.”
He walked to his bed and sat down. “Elea?”
“Yes. The people on this boat must’ve installed this to communicate between rooms. It just wasn’t closed on yours. There should be a little hole and a glassy section of the wall right… there.”
Valens glanced at the wall and noted, to his surprise, that there was indeed a peephole. However, he didn’t see any glass, or any transparent surface for that matter. He said this to Elea.
“Alright, try looking for hinges.”
He found a pair, and pulled on the respective door.
The door opened out, and he saw himself staring through a window in the wall at the face of Elea.
Elea’s face was something he had never much noticed in the past, having in his childhood taken it for granted, so to speak, and in more recent times that feeling had lingered, as well as the fact he had never much cared for excessive detailing anyway.
Now, however, he had time to appraise it. She had straight, dark brown hair that dropped to her shoulders and narrow eyes of dark green. Her skin was fair, but tanned and even burnt in some places, and her face was fairly long, framed by high cheekbones and hair that she put meticulous care into keeping off of it.
She was, altogether, not at all bad looking, but he had never had much interest in her romantically, as she was practically his sister.
She said, “Good. It could have taken a shorter time, but it doesn’t matter.” Valens grimaced in mock-guilt, but then asked, “Why did you call me, anyway?
Elea shrugged. “I needed someone to talk to.”
“And I was the only one available?”
“Basically.”
Valens laughed. “I don’t know why I even talk to you anymore.”
They talked about assorted inanities for the next few minutes. Valens found it enjoyable to take his mind off of what had happened lately, and went along with whatever course their amorphous conversation took, until it shifted along the lines of Talodei’s capture.
Elea looked at him and remarked, “I wonder where those green-shelled bastards who stole Talodei took him.”
“I knew you were going to bring this up sooner or later. I think they just took him to some sort of prison. They’ve obviously got some sort of plan for him, or else they would have just killed back on Calessius.”
Back on Calessius. The words brought something of a thrill to his mind. He’d never expected to speak about Calessius as if it was a thing of the past, to be thrown aside when he had no more use for it.
Elea seemed unconvinced. “I know they took him to prison somewhere, but if they torture him… that would sicken me. I hope we can get him back.”
“You talk about him like an object. Besides, Talodei Delamon is not an easy man to break, and it seems that the people on this warship know what’s going on here, and I think they have decent intentions.”
“What, you mean locking in our rooms with no explanation?” Elea spat bitterly.
“I think that was for our own good, and Moneli should be able to explain it.”
Valens said this, but without any real conviction at all. They both probably realized that he was just letting Elea be bitter, and Elea was probably grateful for it.
“I suppose if we ever see him again we can ask—“
The door clicked, and Valens saw the handle turn and the door swing in. Moneli stood, framed in the door like some sort of specter, his white hair hanging from his head like the trails left by a ghost.
“I apologize for the lack of explanation. I see you’ve found the communicator.”
Valens looked dubiously at the small, glassed-in hole in the wall. It hardly merited such a grand title as “communicator”
“Yes, it appears we have.” He said frankly.
Moneli sat down in the chair so he could have a clear visibility of Elea and Valens. “I suppose you’ve been wondering why we’d lock you in here. Well, we have decided that we don’t want you wandering around this ship untended, because someone we don’t want to see you could see you.”
“Who would that be?” Valens inquired listlessly.
“Those green-armored people who were going to execute you back on Calessius.”
Valens almost choked. Elea asked, “Who are they?”
“They’re part of a group called the Viridian Crusade. They’re a sort of radical group who are attempting to seize power in the Archipelago. They probably captured Talodei because—

Wham.

The boat shook from some unseen impact, and a shrilling began to sound from a siren. Moneli swore and rushed out the door, his blade drawn and his white hair streaming about him. He called back to them to stay in their rooms, and dashed off down the hall.
The door clicked shut behind him like the gate to hell.

Moneli dashed from the passengers’ deck to the bridge. “What’s going on?” he yelled at the frantic crew. “You told me you’d raised a false banner so they wouldn’t know it was us!”
The captain turned on his heel and remarked, “Someone must have tipped them off! This is a small force, but if any of them get away, we’ll be too close to Volana! They’ll know where we’re headed!”
Moneli threw his hands up in frustration. “This is insane! How are we going to get every last one of those? And we can’t evacuate all of Volana in the time it’ll take for them to get there!
“We can damn well try,” said the captain grimly.

The outside of the ship swarmed with the insectoid flying vehicles seen on Calessius like maggots on a carcass, buzzing through the sky at incredibly high speeds and circling the ship, bursts of white and red occasionally flashing out of their guns and denting the side of the ship. Oculi had already been damaged, and one was completely demolished, bits of metal and sinew hanging limply from the lithrum. Sailors scrambled out of the ship and onto the deck, dashing behind makeshift barricades in front of the only available entrance to the ship and handling rifles in an effort to stop boarding actions by the attacking force. Guns began to flare, sending white streams of smoke out of the ship at the enemies. There were about 14 aircraft in all, but it was hard to count at the speed they were moving.
A flare went up from one of the aircraft, and others returned it. They began to decelerate and buzz towards the deck. One of the aircraft, buzzing around a bit lower than the others, began to move up, but as it passed a gun port, there was a flash and the entire bottom of the aircraft blew out in a shower of sparks and fluid. It was blown straight out into the ocean and fell with a resounding splash, the pilot and gunner likely already dead.
Thirteen now, thought Moneli, a bit sadistically, as he rushed up to prevent boarding actions being taken. His blade was out, but he knew now that he wouldn’t be able to take these attackers by surprise as he had taken the ones on Calessius.
He had often questioned himself why he continued to use his sword instead of a lithrum-powered gun like most warriors, but it was hardly important now.
The first craft touched down, its landing gear folding out, and there was a nearly palpable sense of tension as the cockpit began to open out like a mouth. Others landed, until there were ten craft parked on the deck.
That meant twenty enemies to fight. Moneli swore. The numbers were against them.
Their cockpits were open, but the sailors couldn’t get a straight shot at them until the pilots were out. There was a moan as guns were loaded and primed on both sides, and then, nearly as one, the green-armored warriors burst out, and the battle began in earnest.

A volley of gunshots rang out from the defenders, sending sharpened metal spheres toward the enemy. A few fell, but the rest stormed towards them, holding rifles in front of them. The defenders loaded their guns again and fired, this time yielding a bit more, and now there were only fifteen attackers swarming towards them, and they quickly retreated behind their craft.
This seemed like a good thing momentarily, but Moneli knew that if this became a battle of attrition, they couldn’t win, and they definitely couldn’t risk an all-out attack with their inferior numbers. On the other hand, they couldn’t just defend and hold out for reinforcements from below, because they didn’t have the time.
A volley of blasts came from the other side, with no results. Moneli swore to himself. They would have to risk a holdout while reinforcements came. If attackers entered the ship, all hell would break loose.
“Fire at will.”

Valens and Elea heard the sounds of battle coming from above. Valens felt sick to his stomach. There was all this death coming from the deck above, and for what reason?
Valens had no idea what was going on or why he was locked in this room He felt his heart sink with every explosion from above. He couldn’t stand the fact that he was trapped underneath a battle on a ship that might sink, or that he had no idea in the least of what might happen if he was captured, or any of the myriad possibilities of what might occur after this battle. He felt his head slowly sink onto the pillow, and welcomed the prospect of sleep, for it was the only escape he could see at this moment.

The sun began to dip towards the horizon, staining the standoff at the deck of the ship with even more red. Moneli had given a ceasefire to allow for a check of status, and it wasn’t pretty. He now had nine troopers against the enemy’s thirteen, and the three remaining aircraft were the gunners and unoccupied sailors quite busy. If this went on, he might have to start taking risks.
Incessant gunfire from both sides whizzed through the air, and Moneli surveyed their situation with weary eyes. There was an outcropping over their heads, which prevented the attackers from using their higher ground, but the attackers were interspersed throughout the aircraft and Moneli couldn’t get a lock on any of them for certain.
Then it hit him: they must not know where everyone on this side was, either! They probably didn’t have a distinct number for his troops, or else they would have attacked with their superior numbers by now.
Odd, as he had never known the Viridian Crusade to be concerned with such things, but he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He had to use their uncertainty to his advantage somehow. If he could somehow intimidate them, he might be able to shake their hold.
“Concentrate fire on the lithrum.”
A sailor looked at him questioningly. “Just do what I told you,” he said.
A chorus of small explosions echoed over the deck. Bolts tore at the metal of the aircraft, ripping small chunks off of it. He saw a Crusader yell and fall off of it as it shook, and he smiled. “Keep firing.”
It kept shaking, and although the rounds weren’t doing anything except that, he knew it was keeping the crusaders on their toes.
He took a deep breath and vaulted over the barricade.
He sprinted to the aircraft, all of his senses screaming against it. He could see the shocked faces of his troops, and he knew in an instant that if he took too long with this, or aroused too much suspicion, he would unquestionably, instantly, be killed. His feet clattered against the metal of the surface, for what seemed like forever, but was realistically hardly even a few seconds, and then he was safe. He reached the metal side of the craft ducked flat against it, squishing his entire body in an effort to remain unnoticed. Safe.
Relatively speaking, anyway. Looking around the corner, he saw the muzzles of two guns poking out. He stood stock-still and watched them. Their handlers appeared to have noticed him running, and weren’t firing.
He stood there and waited, tension filling the air. If those guns were loaded, any of the Crusaders on either side of the craft could simply duck out of cover for a second, and he would be done for.
He could feel his ears whining, the blood pounding in his head as he hid there, waiting for what seemed like years for them to either disregard his presence or kill him.

Blam. The sound of guns filled his ears as they fired, not at him, but at his allies. He let up on his lungs, having been holding his breath, and then, as fast as he could possibly move, he darted from cover into their range. He could almost see their eyes widen as they saw him in front of him. He leaped forward; his sword slipping in and out of one man’s ribs as his other arm dissolved and plunged straight through other’s chest, felling them in an almost elegant movement.
He saw three other soldiers standing in shock behind the vehicle as they watched their brethren killed. He couldn’t resist an arrogant sneer as he transmuted his body into a stream and slid through their bodies, puncturing organs and tearing bones.
He materialized on the other side of the craft, instantaneously feeling a burst of fatigue as he rolled, but disregarded it and dove immediately into another stream, tumbling forward and dissolving once again, and allowed the stream to curve through the barricade and into allied territory.
He dropped behind a wall and slipped shakily to the floor, feeling the all-encompassing, overwhelming wave of tiredness sweep over him. He collapsed, his eyes barely open, and did nothing but feel the metallic chill of the deck of the boat against his cheek for a moment.
Then, he heard the sound of gunfire and eased himself to his knees. His knowledge of the enemies’ numbers had helped much more than he’d thought it would, and now they could afford to wait and see when reinforcements would arrive.
The odds were now in their favor, and he found himself sneering at the faceless Crusaders.
Wait…
He began to hear, at the very back of his mind, a soft, low moan. It gradually grew in strength until one of the aircraft slowly lifted its body into the air and shot off.
“No!” Moneli cursed the Crusade for all it was worth and sat bolt upright. He saw Crusaders sprinting towards the aircraft as fast as they could, dropping cover and running as if their lives depended on it.
Another craft lifted off, and another, until he could see the last crusader scurrying towards a craft.
“Fire! Fire at will!” He yelled.
The defenders took potshots at the fleeing Crusader, but it wasn’t of any use. The last craft sped off into the fleeting daylight, and Moneli was left with nothing but a few empty aircraft and nine troops.

Valens awoke. Realizing instantly where he was, he sat up and listened intently for the sounds of battle. None came, but he was still suspicious. He eased himself off the bed and walked haltingly over to the washbasin. He poured water into his cupped hands and slid it into his face, gasping as the cold water came into contact with his cheeks.
He walked over to the door and pulled on it, as he had nothing better to do. It didn’t open. Oh well. It was worth a shot. He sat on his bed and knocked on the wall, wondering if Elea was asleep or had stayed awake all night. No sound was forthcoming, so he assumed she was asleep.
He stood again and wandered to the chair. Sitting, he began to wonder what had happened while he was asleep. It was possible the ship had been taken by the Crusade, but he deigned not to think about that. It was also possible they had won the battle, which was preferable, but he supposed he couldn’t be certain yet.
He had considered outcomes for a few minutes when there was a clunk and the door opened.
The familiar, white-haired personage of Moneli stepped through; wearing exactly the same clothes Valens had first seen him in.
“I see you’re awake,” was all he said.
“I see I am,” Valens muttered bitterly.
Moneli stood to the side, and Elea stepped through the door. Valens was surprised, but didn’t show it, keeping his face a mask of controlled anger.

So there's my story, so far. Give me imaginary constructive criticism, please.

Serenity

2005-10-03T17:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, okay. I haven't posted in a day or two because stuff happened, but I'm back now. Everything's cool. Don't, you know, go writing imaginary hatemail to me. Y'know, cause you're imaginary and all.
This post won't be related at all to any kind of creativity. At all. But it's a special occasion, so cut me some imaginary slack. The occasion follows: I saw Serenity, therefore spending a lot of time in awesomeness shock. Serenity is, beyond all doubt, a really cool movie. I've never seen any of Firefly, although I definitely plan to now, but Serenity blew me away. I'm not going to give anything away, but it was great. The story is definitely a lot more inventive than most SF movies (read: Star Wars) and the characters were good. It was scary at points, dramatic and teary at points, and funny at points, but what I really liked was that it was original. Setting aside the whole "western" thing, it had some real creativity behind it, and I liked that. I'm going to watch Firefly now.

However, a post wouldn't be complete without some sort of inventiveness, so here's a preview: I'm going to post a big long story on this blog in a bit. Anticipate, I say.

Urallia's Neighbors

2005-09-28T16:56:00.000-07:00

Urallia's borders have solidified over the years, and its neighbors have become more established and concrete, so I'm going to explain them.

First is Birikiv, a large, power-hungry country which Urallia and Agurani fought against ages ago. Its capital is Vekad, a cosmopolitan city with very little in the way of working class folk. The whole of Birikiv is somewhat decadent, but the economy is doing well, and it has recently pulled itself out of numerous pollution-based crises. It essentially encompasses the entirety of the western shores of the as yet unnamed sea the Urallian peninsula juts out onto. It was formerly the Birikivi Empire, which controlled all of Tophathal, Paothan, Kamezha, and much farther inland. This collapsed because of a large slave rebellion and a lot of interregnum, but the Birikivi are still fiercely proud of their lineage, and some even endorse a return to power.

Next comes Agurani. Agurani is the second country to use the Ulandisit root language, and has a lot in common with Urallia. They have prospered over the years as trade partners and allies, so the two countries have a very good relationship. Intermarriages have been known to happen. Agurani's capital is Rusui. It is ruled by Cerigonal der Omrulas, and it's been said that he and Gryphonel der Amanos, the current ruler of Urallia went to college together, which really symbolizes how close the countries are.

Next is Tophathal, the northern neighbor of Urallia. It is a fairly nondescript country. It was subjugated by Birikiv for a long time, until the Empire collapsed due to widespread rebellion and internal turmoi. It has since rebuilt, although this has been unnaturally hard because of the Kamezhan secession. Its capital is the port of Kelpha.

Kamezha, Tophathal's northeastern neighbor, seceded from the aforementioned country after a lengthy and bloody civil war. Their economy is not doing well, but they are being helped along by their neigbors. Their capital is Kam.

Paothan, Tophathal's western cousin, is quite similar to Tophathal in that it was subjugated and has brought itself out. However, while Tophathal tends to have a very conservative view on things, Paothan is often more liberal, and this has earned them a higher standing in Urallia's books. Its capital is Nol Tuspin.

West of Paothan is the small country of Chorem. It is effectively a long line along the coast, with fishing villages and such dotting it. Is economy is somewhat stangnant, although efforts from neighboring countries are producing some results. Its capital is situated at Mearash.

Sielko is the greatest eastern power on the sea. It is largely built on the banks of a large river, allowing it access by water to the full western continent, as well as the entire sea. As such, it is a very powerful country, with a lot of power on land and sea. It has a history of clashes with Aiolina, even having its capital captured once, and the two are not in good standings. Its capital is Solem Rulthi.

Finally, there is Aiolina. Created by the last remaining Ulandin natives when they crossed from the island chain, it is a quickly growing country equal to Agurani in size and influence. It is also the Urallia's third second major ally and trading partner. It's had numerous border wars with Sielko. Its capital is Diurai.

Point?

2005-09-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

It strikes me that my imaginary fanbase probably doesn't know what I'm thinking to the letter. I've decided to create a post to at least help with that. I currently have three major races:
~Urallians,
~Zalamath,
~Europans,
and each of them has a point. Each of them was created for a purpose. They weren't simply created to make a point, but I did have these in mind while creating them.

The Urallians, who are effectively humans, are my attempt at creating a "realistic" fantasy, without elves and dragons and magic. This has worked so far. I think I have a plausible and believable history that could take place in a plausible and believable alternate Earth. The Urallians have a kind of myth-esque background, what with the Exodus and all, and it gets steadily more and more realistic until faux-present day. Urallia has trading partners and a few prosperous tourist centers, as well as a good lumber industry and a lot of fishing. I've designed it on up until they can interact with the Zalamath, so they're quite developed.

The Zalamath are basically my go at a realistic SF race, much like the Urallians. They are a lot less developed than the Urallians, however, and there's no way I can even begin to write a language for them, because I only have one larynx (stupid human biology), but I've put quite a lot of thought into their history, and I think it's coming along quite well.

The Europans are totally different. The Europans are created out of my beef with humanoid aliens. Something that I have never understood about a lot of SF (or Sci-Fi, because they're different) is that the aliens are ALWAYS humanoid and always think in similar ways to humans. The Europans are the exact opposite of that. They are so utterly alien that humans have no possible way of thinking like them. They are effectively a blob, internal organs contained therein, attached to an alterable number of tentacles, each with an appendage. The blob is also attached to a head. They inhabit the ocean underneath the crust of Europa, and therefore have gills. However, they don't have opposable thumbs, mouths, or cities. They have no social structure, and only come together on incredibly important occasions. However, they are by no means primitive, with formidable mecahnical forces near the equator of Europa. They are very contemplative, and, as they eat algae through a hole on the front of their bodies, they have nothing to for their entire lives but think. This does not bother them in the least; they have no capacity for boredom. Their reproduction process is entirely anonymous, and they get no satisfaction from it. In fact, if I could describe their entire race in one word, it would be "cold."

In any case, I have a few "developing" races that have similar points, but I won't share them, in case they never see the light of day.

Zalamath Continued

2005-09-27T15:19:00.000-07:00

Aaaaand, we're back with more bizarre, diseased-mind creations from our imagination slav--*cough* writer, Piekid.

Zalamath technology is interesting. Space vehicles use ion engines, which is fairly unremarkable. Atmospheric vehicles use fossil fuels similar to oil, but the interesting part is weapons tech. Standard-issue carbines and emergency pistols use liquid with a much higher surface tension than water, allowing it to stick together at high velocities. Grenades and most explosives use the same liquid, but encased in metal. Sniper rifles use ballistics, as liquid would make too much noise. Ships use ballistics in space.

Zalamar's history is odd as well. Since Zalamar can be used alternatively as a Metroid fanfic planet or an original creation, the most important facet of their history is interchangeable. As is, I'm using the original version. Zalamar was, for most of its lifetime, a group of nations who interacted and warred much like nations of Earth. However, one day on a routine patrol, aliens were discovered. The Zalamath nation who had found them immediately attacked them, without waiting for clarification, due to their paranoid nature. The aliens sent more forces in, sparking a war. The nation called in its allies, and eventually the majority of the world was involved in Zalamar's first interplanetary war. As it turned out, Zalamar eventually got the message and signed a peace treaty, but they found the world-government to their liking and decided to stay that way. They have since adopted an "Esperanto" to speak and created planetary fleets, so in a sense it has been incredibly good for their planet.

The Zalamath

2005-09-26T14:51:00.000-07:00

The Zalamath are the first of what will hopefully become many posted creations of mine. They're a race of aliens who inhabit Zalamar, the second of four planets orbiting the main sequence star Szeleth-Deluran. Zalamar is slightly closer to the sun than Earth, and therefore hotter and dryer, bur not by a terrible amount. The average temperature for the summer is 105 degrees fahrenheit, which is very uncomfortable, but still tolerable to most humans, provided they're correctly hydrated.

The Zalamath have slightly less body space to heat, and also have camel-like water stores on their backs (not humps, however). Their skin is a smoky gray, and their eyes range anywhere from brown to curdled-milk yellow. They don't have hair.

Zalamar as a planet is covered about forty percent by dunes, with another forty percent going to water, and the remaining twenty to the valleys. Dunes are generally miles upon miles of fairly rough sand, with grass interspersed and groves of short trees, something like a cross between an acacia and a lichen. They are very hot and dry, and there really isn't much on most of them besides military outpost and smallish towns. Valleys, on the other hand, double as farmland and urban areas. As the Zalamath equivalent to wheat is a mosslike perennial that ripens every winter, forming stalks and growing up off of stones. It grows in the valleys, where there is more water. As for the oceans, they're everywhere, a lot of small, cut-off oceans, linked by underground rivers (consequently, these flow underneath valleys, which therefore have more water). The cities on the oceans are generally the trade centers, as ocean trade is still important. The oceans are very salty, and it doesn't take much to float on them.

The Zalamath have also colonized Zalamar's three moons, Thevar-Surbeijan, Thevar-Velijan, and Thevar-Gasijan. Velijan is the largest, and has something close to an atmosphere, so it was the first colonized. Patches of it are in the process of being terraformed from a rocky, cold desert to a warm-ish plain. Surbeijan is undergoing the same process, but on a much more limited scale. Parts of the almost-atmosphere are methane gas, which is dampening the efforts. Gasijan is the smallest, and there is only one full settlement, but preparations are being made for another.

Zalamath politics is very odd. They are both peaceful and paranoid, kind of like Switzerland gone mad. They are effectively the type to sign a peace treaty and never talk to you again, unless you get into a war or the peace treaty is broken, in which case they will send minimal aid or an entire war fleet, respectively. They are usually content to leave others alone, colonizing slowly and barely expanding for years.

They do, however, have a military. The Zalamar Defense Fleet is powerful and quite large, with more than six hundred ships in full orbit around Zalamar. The Zalamar Planetary Guard is not quite as large, but has many, many permanent outposts in the dunes, which send out regular patrols of snake-like tanks. However, a much-overlooked portion of the military is the Zalamath Exploration Fleet, which is underfinanced and treated worse than any other portion of the military. There is a good training program, and the fighter pilots or turret operators of the fleet are as well-trained as anybody, but they are generally put down as barbarians by the majority of the planetary population.

This is about all I have right now. I'll get back to you later.
Maybe even tomorrow!

Here we go again...

2005-09-26T14:41:00.000-07:00

Alright, this is Piekid, from the other blog (not that anyone's reading). I had an old blog that was basically about stuff that I did. It was fairly vapid, but still fun to write. Unfortunately, I got a laptop, which somehow managed to eff the mix up. I was able to log in once, and then the blog decided it didn't like me and made my password invalid for some evil blog reason. In any case, I rationalized a bit and realized that my old blog wasn't really that great. So I've created this blog. It is hardly a "take two" of my older one, as the whole reason I'm creating it is to show off the products of my overactive imagination and describe them in absurd amounts of detail. Hence the name.