Here.
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Archive | August 2014
The Lannamer Chronicle: the Karsekarzlen Bucks (Reiassan Demifiction)
Entertainment
In all the world, in all the land, there are no goats as beautiful, nor as skillfully trained, as the Karsekarzlen Goats.
These goats are bred specially for grace, coloration, horn twist, and length of leg, and they are raised only in the remote mountain city of Karsekarzi, by a family as old as the goat bloodline and older: unsurprisingly, the Karsekarzlen family.
This week, Lannamer was treated to the rare Karsekarzlen Goat Show, which tours the continent and only comes to Lannamer every third year. The goats and their handlers performed to a sold-out amphitheater, as they always do, with the less fortunate gathering outside, hoping for a place to open up.
This reporter was there, under the benevolent aegis of the Lannamer Chronicle, and had the chance to see the Karsekarzlen Bucks for the second time in her life.
They are a sight to behold! They are a hand1 taller than your average war-goat, more narrow in the withers and rump, and with a long and graceful neck. They are a lovely chestnut color in fur, and their horns are nearly pure white, and twisted like a corkscrew.
The Karsekarzlen family has all of their tack custom made, and it is just as lovely, if not more so, than the goats. Green and blue and silver adorn them, even to the tips of their horns, and every step flashes.
Not only do the goats put up with this sort of treatment, where lesser goats would balk and buck, they seem to enjoy it. And in their paces – based on ancient war maneuvers, but looking more like a dance than a fight – you can see clearly the enjoyment, in every handler and in every goat.2
My readers, if you can make it to a showing of the Karsekarzlen Bucks – they are in town for three more nights, and I hear that the last night still has tickets available – please do. They are a sight you may never see again, and well worth the cost.
1. Term here translates as “knot” but means, pretty much, “hand;” a unit of measurement about 4″ or a decimeter long
2. If you think I recently watched a special on the Lipizzaner Stallions, you’d be right.
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A Review of “On the Nature of the Sira & Its Flow” (Reiassan Demifiction)
A study of the paper,
On the Nature of the Sira and Its flow
by Opaknaipbo-Oset, Scholar of Edally Academy
Paper written c. 850 R – study 1002 R.
Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset was one of the first to study aether as a science, although he did so in the era when it was believed to be sira, an ancient Tabersi word meaning simply force.
In this paper, one of his most comprehensive, he details the flow of several different kinds of sira. In a move that is not uncommon to ancient scholars but unusual in his era, he color-codes three sorts, lithic as green, aqueous as blue, and igneous as red – much as Temples of the Three still color-code the services of the gods – the blue, Tienebrah, the red, Veignevar,the green, Reiassannon.
More than that, which is, after all, a simple trick used throughout history, Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset tracks specific flows and patterns of the sira over the continent, and within specific “spells” and formulae.
Although there is a great deal of superstition in Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset’s work, there is a great deal of value there as well. While he still thinks of the aether as a magical force of the gods, he manages to make some surprising discoveries about the flow of aether that still color research today.
Within the book is a series of maps. Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset spent years, with a series of interns and apprentices, walking across the continent from end to end, mapping every line of wild aether he could detect, and finding patterns in the way that it moved and spread. Those maps are the basis for research still being done today.
More interesting, to those who study such things, are the diagrams of “spells.” If Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset could diagram things that he thought were magic, what can those of us, who truly understand the nature of aether, do with those diagrams and Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset’s work?
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/779493.html. You can comment here or there.
Reiassan – a Welcome
Welcome to Reiassan.
The continent stretches from the northern ice to the warm southern isles, carved by glaciers into long trenchlike valleys and shoved into high ridges of mountains that act like a spine down the eastern coast of the land.
The history stretches from its first settlers, stranded here by a climate change, through an age of magic and mercenaries, to the peace of ages and the subsequent chaos. It continues on through into the nation’s steam era, with the advent of goatless carriages, airships, and the harnessing of what was once called magic, sira, into aether.
The Iron Era, when magic was high and war was a series of dirty skirmishes, is a high-fantasy setting. Warriors ride into battle on war-goats, followed by sira-flinging mages. Armor is simple, magic is wild, and nobody is certain who will win the war, the northern Calenyena or the southern Bitrani.
The Peace Era, when religion binds up magic and war is ending in a series of complicated battles, is a low-magic fantasy setting. The peace has been signed, and much of what remains is politics. Magic is done quietly and subtly, and warriors head home to their farms. The Calenyena have beaten the Bitrani, and nobody knows what will happen next.
The Steam Era, when science has taken over and magic is a distant myth, is a steampunk setting. The Calenyena are firmly in charge, and engineers and scientists, politicians and scholars, adventure where once warriors rode. The Bitrani might rebel – nobody knows – but in the meantime, the aether will flow and the steam will punk.
The Reiassan’s landing page is here.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/779060.html. You can comment here or there.
Please to pick another random number for me
Between one and twenty-one, to pick the next thing on my writing list
The list, not in order of its numbers, includes:
Inventrix Commish
Membit
Patreon flashfic public
Rix Words the second (more Baram)
Blog Post
Summary
Submission (find)
Inner Circle
Setting write up
Edits from April
Landing Page
Rion Edits
Welcome to AG Letter
Kelkyag Words!
Demifiction Meme
Rix Words!
Liveblog Summary
KN Commish
collate liveblog
Live** the apoc
Patreon flashfic
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/778801.html. You can comment here or there.
Character Meme Day Three – Another Era (Tairiekie)
So, I decided to do a character meme, and this one showed up first on google. Because the theme of the month is Reiassan, I’m starting with Tairiekie.
Day 3:
Choose a different time period and describe what your character would have been like in that time period.(2)
If Tairiekie had been born in the “Iron Age,” she likely would have been what was colloquially called a sira-flinger, albeit a scholarly one.
She probably would have left home early, maybe about the age she is going to school, and would have apprenticed with an older sorcerer, one who knew the ways of the magic (sira) and who would educate her. Her parents probably would have chosen the sorcerer, if they knew someone, or asked a family friend for a recommendation.
Taikie really is bright, and probably would have struck out on her own in only a year or two, probably teaming up with a mercenary band. She likes adventure, and I can easily see her with the flat braids of a soldier and the bright-colored tunics, flinging out spells and twisting the sira around her enemies while balancing on her saddle. She’d be a truly inspired combat mage.
She’d be cocky, though, and that makes me worry that in the harsher times of the iron age, she might not live a very long life. It would be a spectacular one, though, however long it was.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/778623.html. You can comment here or there.
A Letter Home from the Bitrani South (Reiassan Demifiction)
Dear Mother and Father,
I am enjoying the visit with Teshoni, Bryiery, and Tomasso.
Yesterday, they introduced me to a traditional Bitrani dish, made with a wide flat bread and many local fruits I have never tasted before. It was quite good, although I think Grandfather would look down his beard at it.
While we were in town buying ingredients, I saw two of the enclave Bitrani. They look so strange, but I remembered what you told me and did not stare, nor did I ask to touch their hair. (I haven’t asked to touch anyone’s hair, the whole time! Although Tomasso touched my braids without asking!) I have tried to remember to be very good and polite all the time.
Last night, when Bryiery was tucking us in, she told Tomasso to beware the Moonlight Beast. I didn’t know about the Moonlight Beast, so I asked.
She told me it was a creature that comes out of the lines of the moons, the light that kisses the floor and night, and it gobbles up the toes of little boys and girls who aren’t good. Tomasso had been naughty all day – Tomasso likes to be naughty, and he told me yesterday they let him get away with more, because I am visiting – and, Bryiery said, he’d have to be careful not to get his toes nibbled on, like his grandfather Gatito did when he was a little boy.
When she was gone, I told Tomasso about Empty Horns, and how it floats around at night, looking for children who were not brave or clever enough, and how the horns would fasten themselves to the head of any child who did not try. He cried for the rest of the night.
I do not think Tomasso will enjoy visiting us very much, when the time comes.
I remain until then,
Your loving daughter Laizhte
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Protected: Test Story beginning: Genderfunky character in the fae apoc
Friday Flash: With the Moon
Thank to ![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lilfluff for the prompt.
The shift came with the moon.
It was inexorable, unavoidable, inevitable: if you had the blood, then you shifted. All over the world, in every land, someone would look up at the night sky… and Change.
In Parkwood, where one particular moon-bound had been rather overfriendly a few generations back – the milkman, it turns out – the whole town would, on those nights, simply, quietly, Change. Women, men, children – those few who had not had the blood had found it very uncomfortable and moved out, or, in a few cases, married in and simply learned to work around it.
Neighboring towns had learned to stay clear of Parkwood on those nights, when the moon was new and the sky was dark. It was a strange place to be, when everyone around you was covered with fur and nuzzling against your leg, helping you across the street and washing your car. It was a strange place indeed, when the werewolves Changed.
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Reynard’s Story in Reynard’s Words – a continuation for @Rix_scaedu
First: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/753621.html
Previous: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/767819.html
This to Rix’s commission
Reynard loved telling stories. He had, in more than one town, earned his supper (and, more often than not, a place in a bed or three) telling tales – fairy tales, sometimes, tales of the days that had been, horror stories of the war.
He told them all the same, fiction and truth – he told them as prettily as possible, made them as engaging as he could, and embellished where he needed to to make the story flow.
He thought, perhaps, in this situation, he ought to keep the embellishment to a minimum. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the story interesting.
After all, he wanted this woman to like him, didn’t he?
- I’ve enjoyed it – my Name – truth be told (he continued), and everything that it entails. I’ve had fun being the innocent-looking one, the sweet boy, the harmless guy.
And I’ve had fun in those moments where they find out that that is most definitely not the case. Quite a bit of fun, actually. I’ve even had fun – perhaps the most fun – running from the scene of the crime with my pants in one hand and my sword in the other.
Ah, I’ve done that a few times.
I’ve run a few cons in my time, but, for the most part, my crimes have been of the more sensual nature – who am I to say no, if a lady or a gentleman wants me in their bed for the night or the week? The nights are cold, and the road is hard.
So when I moved into that town – I don’t remember the name. It had a wall around it, but most towns do these days, don’t they? It had doors painted in wild colors and houses painted in grey. And it had the prettiest mayor I’ve ever seen, a dark-haired lady with warm brown skin and a laugh like you wouldn’t believe.
She wasn’t married, and it wasn’t one of the Super Christian God Will Save Us From The Fairies places, so I didn’t see any problem with sliding into her henhouse, if you’ll forgive the metaphor. And that was actually going quite well for me for a while.
And then there was this boy, the town cobbler. He had the big wide shoulders and the big strong hands… and he was quite a bit of fun with his shirt off, too.
And he wasn’t married either, and, like I said, it wasn’t the most Christian town in the world, so I didn’t see any problem. And that was actually going pretty well for a while, too.
And then there was this young lady, with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and she was engaged, but he didn’t pay her much attention and she had plenty of love to go around.
So that was about a month in, and then there was this gorgeous blonde woman who came to town in a wagon with about seven other people – a travelling caravan – and there, somewhere in there, I missed a step or someone threw a monkey wrench in my dance.
One way or the other, the mayor found out about the blonde lady, and she found out about the cobbler, and he found out about the blue-eyed girl… and this peaceful little town was all over shouting and yelling.
I like shouting and yelling, I admit it. I like the chaos – some say I thrive on it. It’s fun.
(Here he ducked his head and smiled, hoping it was sweet and innocent.)
And so everyone shouting was just as fun for me as all the love-making and bedroom games. Quite fun. And so I would talk to one and then talk to another, fueling the flames, and maybe I let them catch me in the middle of a delicate situation with the baker’s son. And it was all, let me tell you ma’am, far more fun than maybe ought to have been.
So I kept it going and kept it going – and then this pretty – no this gorgeous thing, redheaded woman with, you know, the way you can’t tell with fae if they’re twenty or a thousand but she was solid iron under her freckles.
And she said to me “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but we can’t have this sort of nonsense right now.” That’s all she said. I mean, I asked questions, and I denied it, and I played innocent. I’m very good at playing innocent, ma’am.
But that’s all she said to me. The rest was her guy. She stepped aside, and he…
…ma’am, I’ve been beat down, and it was never like that. I’ve been punished, and it was never like that. I’ve gotten in fights, hell, when I had to, or when I felt just that chaotic.
This guy destroyed me. And then he got me on my knees, and he gave me a choice.
He looked up at her and tried to swallow. “And that’s how I ended up Belonging to a terrifying mass of muscle, ma’am.”
Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/786429.html
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