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Effects

The battle against the Noknuxo had been raging for months.  The space-faring aliens had clearly superior tech – weapons that were huge and completely incomprehensible that made noises that could not be predicted and left swaths of damage in their wake.  Their lasers were precision-targeted and left holes you could throw a baseball through; their bunker-busters were just insane.

They were fighting the Terrans over a system that was smack in between their two most favored colonies and Terra’s first really successful colony system.  They were down to fighting on the best planet itself, which had serious disadvantages – they were destroying land both groups wanted to live on – but on the other hand, a single hit didn’t end up destroying huge numbers due to atmosphere loss, the way that several of their space battles had gone.

The Terrans were losing.  They were demoralized, and it was making everything that much harder.  The Noknuxo tech was just too advanced.  There was no way that they could win against things that their scientists couldn’t begin to understand.

Suddenly, over a loudspeaker, the echoing, chittering voice of a Noknuxo sounded – in Terran. “Cut!”

“What?” The Terran general looked at her aide.  “Was that right?”

“We’re out of special effects budget,” came the Terran explanation in a Noknuxo clack.  While the Terrans had figured out Noknuxo, the aliens had never bothered to talk in English before this.  “We’re going to have to go to doing this the boring way.  We’re dropping our projections now; you can drop yours and save the budget.”

The general stared across the field as, one by one, half of the incomprehensible machines vanished.  The other half suddenly looked much less… impressive.

Carefully, she leaned into the mike and pushed the translation button. “We have no projections,” she called over the field.  “What you see is as we are.”

There was a chitter and chatter from the Noknuxo side.  “Say again?” came the clicking reply.

“We have no projections.  Everything here is exactly as it is.”

Somewhere behind the General, three of her best scientists were staring into viewfinders at the Noknuxo siege devices.  “General, can you capture one of those?”

“Not while they’re calling a truce,” the General replied, careful to be sure her mike was off.

“Better hurry,” her aide commented.  Looking out at the battlefield, the General could see why.

To a being, the Noknuxo were fleeing.  There was no reply, no request for clarification.  They were simply loading up their remaining ships.

The General had been given this position because of her quick-thinking – which could have been seen as either a positive or a negative, because it came with a quickness to speak as well.  She flipped the mike and the translator on.  “Please,” she called, as if the Noknuxo weren’t fleeing, “name the location where you would like to discuss peace terms.”

She wanted to learn more about fighting a war with special effects.


Inspired by

Prompt Call for New Year’s

I’ve done this before; I’m doing it a bit different this time.

I went to a random word generator

I got

long-term

suffer

push

parcel

bushes

Leave me a prompt using at least one of those words or riffing off of at least one.  Any world, any people, any concept.

In a couple hours, I’ll post another set of words.

Go!

Livewriting Day

Good morning!
I am going to attempt to write 10,000 words today, and you are welcome to watch!

Check it out here https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rE9G3Pm5Jr12qfsEZ0b90NUlZUO-4BQ3tjmLYNQ2pm8/edit?usp=sharing

Running in the Bear Empire 27: Climbing

First: Running in the Bear Empire
Previous: A Place

🐻

The question hung in the air between them.

Deline had started it because he wouldn’t stop about the “wife of the emperor” business, no more than some courtier trying to curry favor or some spy trying to dig up information.  She’d finished the question because she found herself curious, even though she was aware it wasn’t exactly a nice question.

Carrone cleared his throat.  He looked at the next hill before them, looked back at her, and started walking.

Deline followed, setting a pace that wouldn’t leave her looking at the back of him the entire trip.

At a very narrow flat spot, just barely big enough for the two of them, he paused.  “Obviously you think I’m good enough for that,” he pointed out, his eyebrows raised as if challenging her to deny it. “How many nights have we spent together already? Continue reading

The Fading, the Forgetting – the Remembering

This is a story of Changeling: the Dreaming, although there is very little of that setting that you need to know to read this. 

In short, at least in older versions of the setting, when changelings reach a certain point – age often helps – of banality in their lives, they fall into a stage where they forget their fae souls.  But their human bodies live on…

The temperatures were over 100F.  There was a drought on that had been going for more than a month.  The city had been in and out of water restrictions since late May, and the sun was searing down as if it was trying to bake everyone who dared to go outside.

And on a street in a neighborhood where the police always went in twos and preferably in threes, a hydrant was spraying water all over the sidewalk and the road.

Seven children from toddler age to teens were dancing in the water.  Normally, the police would chase them off, close the hydrant, and maybe make stern noises at the oldest of them.  But this time, they were dancing with two grey-haired people who were definitely old enough to arrest.

Hell, their retirements might be old enough to arrest.  Continue reading

The Isle of Time, a piece of Pratchett Fanfic

I was re-reading Thief of Time, and there is a line in there about “just dump the extra time in the ocean.” It was always wet and watery:

Oh, maybe fishermen would start to dredge up strange whiskery fish that they’d only ever seen before as fossils, but who cared what happened to a bunch of codfish.

So here is a bit about someone who might care.


There was an island in the middle of the ocean that the Monks of Time did not know of.

They didn’t know about it because it wasn’t supposed to exist for another five hundred thousand years, but it existed in a place that a particular set of Procrastinator-drivers in the halls of time particularly enjoyed, and as such, it had gotten more than its share of time manipulation.

Geography and geology are always a bit of a question when you live on a disc on the back of four elephants riding on the back of a turtle, but as far as anyone could tel, this was also a place where certain sea creatures had been going for millennia to die, and thus, between that and some activity it was best to call volcanic,  although Vulcan went by a different name here, had pointy ears, and had only once even looked at this place1, well, anyway, there was an island here.

And because shipwrecks happen everywhere and possibly more than everywhere when your ship is suddenly beset by a pre-historical2 creature or, worse yet, suddenly becomes a grove of trees and two confused elephants or a pile of mold and driftwood, this island had people, and had had people for quite some time (Probably.  Maybe.  Likely.)

Even evolution works strangely on the Disc, and so, after a while (or several whiles, depending), someone needed to do something about this aging a thousand years before one could manage to breed, or coming back before one’s grandparents had gotten around to it, and so on.

There were not a lot of people on this island, but it wasn’t on any charts, which only increased the shipwrecks (it’s a bit off putting when first your First Mate loses fifteen years of life and then there’s an island right in front of you while you’re still talking her out of a fight with the cook and the ship’s boy over Music With Rocks In It), and things continued strange around there.  Which meant that, in due (let’s be honest and say un-due) time, the people who survived there ended up being, ah, immune to time.

They could step through it, and sometimes did.  They could create elaborate looping paradoxes – and, indeed, it became an art form there: what is the most beautiful paradox that you can create?  None of this I’m-my-own-Grandpa sort of thing; on this island that was considered to go without saying, after all.  And if you wished to go and replay last Tuesday, well, go ahead.  Maybe alone, maybe with your previous self or several of them.

And while the Monks of Time did not know about this island, neither did those on the island know about the monks of time.

If they did, it is thought by those who pay attention (Mostly Sark’ck) that there were at least three consecrated mounds of dust and ash that might have some very strong words for those Monks.


1 Nobody was saying that Vulcan, or, as he was known here, Sark’ck, had anything to do with a particular green-blooded bastard in a another part of the multiverse, but he did have a habit of adopting stray myths and making them his own…

2 And in the Discworld, where someone or other had been writing down history since the time the fifth elephant landed in the Uberwald, that is saying something.

A Test: The Poll in WordPress

It’s time for the monthly Patreon Theme Poll, and, well, my Dreamwidth subscription lapsed.

So here is a poll in WordPress, just to see if it works out.

What are you voting for?  The theme for my Patreon for the month.

This will dictate the story posts as well as informational posts, reposts, and sometimes the trunk story and map.  (Maybe even the recipe!)

Who can vote?  Anyone!

For information on the settings, see landing pages: Tír na Cali, ReiassanThings Unspoken.  Edally Academy does not have a landing page yet, but it is a sub-set of Reiassan in the steam-goat era and has a serial webpage here: http://www.edallyacademy.com/.

[yop_poll id=”2″]

 

Cats Have Nine Lives

This is not fanfic for the anime Mahou Tsukai no Yome/the Ancient Magus‘ Bride, per se, but it is inspired by something in an episode, a reference to the nine lives of cats in a different angle than I’m used to seeing it. 

It’s also sort of Real People Fic.

It also involves pet death, be forewarnedAlso, I made myself cry.

🐈

Continue reading

Patreon Reposts & Trunk: December 2017

December is Lexember, so for today I’m looking at some tree words from Calenyena, the language of Reiassan. 🌳

Originally posted Dec. 16, 2015

Today’s word is thorn alder, because I can!

In further proving that my Reiassani persona is a Bitrani transplant to Calenta (tall, light-skinned, short hair, prefers less bright color combinations), the alders, including the thorn alders, exist on Reiassan almost entirely in the borderlands between South and North.

read on


This is one of my oldest stories-for-submission.  It made my mom cry…

💧

The best part of spring, when the winter let go of the land and the snow melted away, was the creek that ran along the edge of my parents’ property.


Happy New Year!

Have a bottle of… ??!

Originally posted February, 2012

🍾

The island was big enough to sustain life for their small group.

Which was good, because they couldn’t figure a way off of it, and, even if they had, they weren’t certain there was anything to return to.

read on…


Originally posted Sep. 14, 2014

🌲

“It’s perfect.” Ce’rilla looked around the old hotel. “It has an atrium, it has rooms, and everything else can be fixed.”

read on…

Continue reading