Archive | April 2013

An Evening With Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer

Apr12

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

That is, approximately, the sound of fangirlish glee that could be heard from the Lyn this past weekend.

For my/our birthday, my Best Friend Evar bought tickets to this.

And thus T. and I drove up to Troy (near Albany) (where Best Friend Evar & Boyfriend live) for last weekend, where we engaged in tasty tasty Indian food, hung out at the workplace of said best frien & boyfriend – they’re in the middle of a deliverable, boo bad timing – and then rode with them to Bard College for an evening with Neil and Amanda.

Woah.

There is something absolutely awesome about hearing your favorite authors read out loud. It’s like you’re hearing the story exactly as it was meant to be. Also, Neil Gaiman has an awesome voice.

And awesome poetry.

And I bought a poster.

And it was awesome. Did I mention that?

If I have one quibble – and I do – it’s that the acoustic in Bard College’s theatre were better than their sound system allowed for. Amanda Palmer’s lovely singing was just a bit too loud – and we were in the very back row. Pity anyone with a migraine in a closer seat.

Still. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/509371.html. You can comment here or there.

Giraffe Logistics.

Apr12

I am contemplating (unsurprisingly) a Giraffe Call this weekend.

Because of the April A-Z thing, I’m thinking of trying to to an A-Z giraffe call, but I’m having a bit of trouble with logistics.

Issues:

1. I don’t normally get 26+ prompters, but I normally write 1 prompt/prompter unless donations occur
2. Comments across two+ platforms (LJ/DW, sometimes Twitter)
3. Many people leave multiple prompts, meaning I can’t just say “leave a prompt in the letter after the person above you.”
4. Smartasses.

Thoughts on solutions:
* Suggest if people leave multiple prompts, they do so over a letter range that does not completely overlap with the person above them. I.e., ie person 1. does a, b, and c, person 2. should do b, c, d, and e.
* Have a list of letters in the Call and cross out letters as I receive three or more prompts to each.
* Have other ways to get a second prompt written than just donations (Signal boosts, up to three?)
* Suggesting that if one is going to leave a letter prompt in another alphabet, one must leave considerable linked backup.
* [personal profile] itsamellama has suggested having an unlockable/incentive if we reach all 26 letters.
Thoughts on what it should be?

Thoughts?
Not worth it, try something else?
Why are you still bothering with this at all?
Moo?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/509078.html. You can comment here or there.

Monsters, a story of Fae Apoc for the Giraffe Call

Apr10

To [personal profile] thnidu‘s prompt
There was a monster to fight.

There was always a monster to fight. it seemed as if they had been fighting monsters forever. Maybe they had.

Shahin closed her eyes, shutting out the world of the now. She reached for the vision, pulling it from the vague, taunting recesses of her mind. When? Where? What? She demanded her power answer her and, cowed, it did so.

The monster was a troll, one of those fae that had given up any pretense of humanity. It was coming to them; it had a plan. An ugly plan, and she could see the timelines in which it succeeded.

They had been there before. She would not let them end up there again.

It would be here in half an hour. Shahin stood up, and spat out the orders that would change here into the battlefield of her choosing.

~

She fought with swords. Her Name was the Ice Rapier, after all, and, if the blades she wielded were not quite rapiers, well, she was not quite as Ice as her reputation would have you believe.

She fought with swords, cutting into the flesh of the monster, into its bone, into its heart. But she fought with words at the same time. She was a short woman and the monster was tall, taller than anything human. She could drive her blades only so far into it. But she could whisper, Meentik Kwxe, Burn, baby, Burn, and the flesh of the monster would light on fire. And then Qorawiyay Hugr Phobos, run, you fucker, run and the flaming monster, suddenly terrified, turned and ran.

She laughed with glee as she chased the thing down. Running away, it was easier to hit, with Meentik Hiko bursts of electricity and with the arrows of her team.

And when it fell, she stood on its chest and cut its head off with her swords. One less monster to fight.

M for Mimosas; after Why Swords

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/508768.html. You can comment here or there.

Why Swords, a setting drabble of Faerie Apoc post-apoc, for the Giraffe Call

Apr10

After:
Toy Soldiers
With Friends Like These…,
Cleaning Up and
this scrap (http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/398701.html)

“Why swords?” Ty lounged – there was nothing else to call it – on Shahin’s bed, watching her as she prepared herself for battle once again. “It’s not like you don’t know what guns are. It’s not like you couldn’t get someone to Meen… damnit… to create them for you.” It pressed both hands to its forehead as the pain of nearly disobeying an order hit.

Shahin took a moment from her preparations to stroke Ty’s hair until the pained look went away. “Supply chain, primarily. And not getting jumped by other people who would like guns and don’t have someone to Meentik them up.”

“Supply chain?”

“If you have a gun, you need bullets. You need someone who can repair it. You need someone who can make guns, or find them, either magically or through old tech – and that takes parts, and materials, and machinery. Supply chain. A sword takes a hot enough forge and a guy with a good arm and some practice.”

She made tiny circles with the tip of her weapon. “Besides, it’s in my Name.”

Ty laughed, although its eyes were tracking the point of the blade. “That’s a good reason. You could have just said ‘style,’ you know.”

“I have been accused of being the world’s vainest warrior.” Fairly, she had to admit. “But this isn’t just vanity. People have guns, sure. But people have more pointed things. This sword is pushing it, really. A pitchfork would be more normal, or a machete.” She tilted her head at her weapons rack, where she had examples of both. “The world is a lot more obviously violent than it used to be, and a lot more poor in manufacturing.”

“I do live in the same world you do, you know.” Now its pride was pricked. Shahin couldn’t help but smile.

“Now you do. But until we captured you – no, I don’t think you did.”

Monsters

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/508553.html. You can comment here or there.

Djinni Icon Days!

Apr10

Djinni finished up the most recent batch of icons!


Oligarchy!


Kyle, from Addergoole: Year 9


Ce’Rilla and Vidrou, children of Ag:9 (and therafter) characters.
Also Addergoole’s Cutest Couple Ever.
Vidrou is mostly @inventrix’s character.

So!

Djinni has Another Free Icon Day Open!

Go ahead and go request yours. I’ll wait.

Done? Cool. Don’t forget to tip if you have a little to spare. I’ll wait.

Tipped? Cool. NOW. Who should I request?

My thought is: one Addergoole character (Probably Eluned, Jovanna, or Akaterina),

one currently-active fiction character for another ‘verse,

and one… I dunno, just-for-fun?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/508189.html. You can comment here or there.

The Black Tower and its Council – a setting piece of Dragons Next Door

Apr9

“What is the Black Tower?” The dragon cocked its head to the side, narrowly missing knocking over the fence.

I blinked. The Tower has such a reputation among our people that it’s hard to remember it’s not that well known outside of the community. Even most other humans wouldn’t know what I was talking about – and I imagine the dragons handled such things in their own way. “The Black Tower is…” I resisted the impulse to end that with “…the Black Tower.” “It’s an academy of magic, considered highly prestigious but also highly dangerous. Sage attended there.”

“Ah, the Sandborn.” Zizny nodded. “We have heard of that place. On rare occasion, a young dragon will study there.”

“Yes, the Sandborn.” I’d forgotten it had a proper name.

–The Black Tower

The Sandborn Academy, the Black Tower, is a spire sticking into the sky, a nightmare against the night-time, the whisper lazy parents use to threaten naughty children. “If you’re not good, the Black Tower will send someone to get you.”

The Black Tower has no interest in naughty children. The Black Tower has very little interest in children at all, except as a necessary step in getting to the next generation of magi.

That is, of course, only as much as the Black Tower has a self to exhibit any interest at all. Regardless of rumor, conjecture, or fear, the buildings of the Black Tower do not, themselves, have sentience (yet).

The sentience of Sandborn Academy resides in its Head and its Council of Elders – seven magi who rule over the school with an iron fist and a steel-belted will. How they determine things within the confines of their Council chamber is a mystery; their dictates are handed down without explanation and with very little chance for appeal, and, in public, the Council presents a united front.

Their dictates rule everything in the Black Tower: who is admitted, and when; what the uniforms look like, and when they change; what is taught on the curriculum, and in the special independent study classes; what is served for dinner in the Dining Halls. Their dictates also determine when a member of the Council retires or is promoted to Head, and who joins the Council, and when.

There is nobody living who has ever met someone who has turned down a seat on the Black Tower Council. They may be the deans of a secondary school, but their power stretches far further than that.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507893.html. You can comment here or there.

Questioned, a story for the Giraffe Call (@Inventrix)

Apr9

For [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt.

Mikary had heard the calling so loudly she had thought, for a moment, she was going deaf.

She had taken that calling and hitched her wagon to it, packed her whole life into two packs and gone questing.

“Why now?” her mother moaned. “The lovely boy down the street was just beginning to look at you properly.”

“Why there?” her father frowned. “There’s dangers on the road you can’t imagine, and monsters in the woods.”

“Why Andrung?” Everyone wanted to know that. “Why the Missing god, the lost god, the failed god?”

“Why Paladin?” The boy down the street was as lovely as Mikary’s mother said. “Why god-touched, why pure, why would you go adventuring at all?”

Mikary had no answers for them, so she gave none. The voice of Andrung was loud in her head, so loud she could barely hear the questions anyway. She packed up what few possessions she had, and she walked.

“Why now?” Villagers could see the godhead about her, and that was enough for them to give her sustenance and shelter, to ask her for blessings and prayers. It was enough for them to ask questions. “The roads will be wet with mud and thick with brigands, now.”

“Why there?” The other Paladins she passed were generally polite enough not to sneer at her choice of faith, but her choice of locations, on the other hand… “That forest has been blasted and useless for generations.’

“Why Andrung?” Even the Paladins asked that eventually. “Why the god that left, the god that does nothing, the god with no light?”

Mikary had no answers for them, so she gave none. She gave blessings – Andrung had no light, but there was warmth aplenty. Andrung may do nothing, but the gift of the god allowed Mikary to do plenty.

On the road, at least, nobody asked “Why Paladin.”

“Why now?” The forest was dark, and the voice of the god had left her head. The only voice was the traveler in front of her – tall, taller than the tallest man in Mikary’s village, and nearly as broad as the road. “Why do you travel now, when the farms need tending?”

“Why here?” His companion stepped from the forest. Only half as tall as the first one, he was twice as wide. “Why come to the depth of the world, where the monsters live”?

“Why a paladin of Andrung?” This one was a shadow on the other side of the road, with a voice like a granny. “Why the god the world bypassed? Why the god who was thrown off?”

For them, Mikary found she had answers.

“I come now because I was called. The roads are muddy, the crops need tending, and the man back home will have found another girl when I return. But now is when Andrung called me.

“And here is where he called. I answer the voice of my god, to the forest dark and blasted and perhaps full of monsters, because the god called me here. Where else would I walk?

“And who else would I choose? Andrung chose me, when naught else would satisfy. The forsaken god, the forsworn god, perhaps, but I come here, I came now, I came for Andrung. Because Andrung called me.”

“Then come to your god.” The three spoke as one, and Mikary understood, finally, why she had come.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507478.html. You can comment here or there.

Veils, a story of the Giraffe Call for @Rix_Scaedu

Apr5

To Rix’s prompt: http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/630713.html?thread=3925689#t3925689

“Why are we doing this?” Drakur tugged at the thin veils and whispy pants. “You’d look better in this than I would.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Dortha was a stout woman, an earth-witch and a tree-wife, the strongest Drakur had ever met. She was handsome, but not lovely, not in the way that people at the auction would drool over.

Drakur. Drakur was. He looked down at himself. “Okay. I look okay, I guess.” He wasn’t big and bulky like some swords-slingers (or like some farmboys) were. He was just… skinny and rock-hard. And apparently looked really believable as a harem slave.

“You look delicious. I’d buy you myself.”

“Now just remember, the point is to not let me get bought by anyone. We just want to get in there, not to have me go off with some frighting old crone.”

“I can remember a plan. Especially one I thought up.”

“Just see that we stick to it.”

~

“Thirty-five gold, do I hear forty? Forty gold, do I hear forty-five? Forty five, do I hear fifty? Forty five, going once, going twice SOLD to the woods-witch. Come get him, lady, he’s a sharp one, isn’t he? Look at that chest, look how it shines, you’re going to have fun with him, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes I am.” Dortha grabbed the leash wrapped around Drakur’s neck. “Come on, boy.“

“What happened to the plan?” He hissed it out of the side of his mouth as he stumbled along. Dortha was a double handspan shorter than he was, and she was pulling down on the leash.

“The plan succeeded. We got what we needed.”

“Then let me go!”

“Oh, no, I spent forty-five gold on you. I’m going to have fuuun.

“…shit.”

“You do look really good in the veils.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507302.html. You can comment here or there.