Tag Archive | giraffecall: perk

More thoughts on Mellama’s IconDay6


Okay, so I was thinking – the last giraffe call (http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/819607.html) made enough for an art!

And Mel has art options in her tipping thresholds.

Sooo… there’s a lot of “more please” stories that came out of this Call. Ideas? I was thinking either the young princeling/his older Mentor; the ace prince & his ace rescuer, or the princess with her Very Very Angry Captive


This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/868538.html. You can comment here or there.

Just Realized… (Giraffe Call Perks)

…that I had both a new prompter and a new donor for this last Giraffe Call!

That means you-all get TWO new pieces of setting information, which, of course, after FebCreate may not be the most startling thing, but um… these are longer?


What setting would you like to know more about?

And what would you like to know?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/693863.html. You can comment here or there.

Magic Items in Faerie Apocalypse, a Setting Piece for the Giraffe Call

Magic Items in the Faerie Apocalypse World

In the Addergoole series, two magical collars have shown up to date: Conrad’s, originally worn by Carter, and Garfunkel’s, originally worn by Sylvia. They were created in two different ways, which nicely indicate the different sorts of magical items in Fae Apoc: Carter/Conrad’s by Working, and Gar/Sylvia’s by an innate.

The Thorne Girls created Carter’s collar to respond to a certain emotional state (Hugr) and vocal volume (Kwxe) with an electrical shock (Hiko); they did this in a complex multi-part Working using Words that they had, in conjunction with Unutu (Worked things) which each of them also had as a Word. I.e., a Thorne with Hugr would lay down a working, and then one with Kwxe, and so on.

This sort of complex team Working takes time, energy, and the ability to work as a team, something the three Thornes had in spades. If a single person were to do a Working like this, they would need to possess all the Words to create a long-term if-then sort of thing (If the target’s Hugr reads snotty, then zap Hiko If it reads actively antagonistic,, then ZAP Hiko). It would obviously take more energy, as well.

Sylvia’s collar, on the other hand, was created by someone whose innate power is, essentially, to enchant objects. She could only inlay into those objects Workings she can herself do, but the person who made the collar has Intinn, Mind, as one of her best words. Creating an artificial intelligence of sorts took a great deal of time, even for her, but far less than doing so via Workings would have done (and she can do it without speaking, an added bonus).

As for longevity: both sorts of collars are very durable; impregnating Workings into sturdy Worked goods is effective and long-lasting. The sort done with Words, however, can be dismantled more easily than the sort done with an Innate. It would take use of the Word Frodelikr to take apart Gar’s collar’s enchantment, whereas Carter’s can be taken apart by simply reversing the Workings done to it.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/536006.html. You can comment here or there.

“Gifts of the Giraffe” now avilable

Better late than never.

Gifts of the Giraffe, an e-book compilation of the December 2011 Giraffe Call, is now available in pdf.

(If you have a good program you have used for converting to epub, please let me know).

If you donated to the December 2011 or January 2012 Giraffe Call (if you don’t remember, and I don’t fault you that, I have records), or if you have donated $50 or more to Giraffe Calls in the time between then and now, this .pdf is free for the asking.

If you have not donated, it is available for $1.33.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/529378.html. You can comment here or there.

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

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.”


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

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

“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.

Signal Boosting Story

This is the signal boosting story for Today’s Giraffe Call.

If you have boosted, leave me a note, and I will write an additional ~50 words.

There are people who will tell you that you never know what you’re getting into when you… when you anything, really. Enter High School. Go to college. Get Married. Start a new job. There’s always some creep leaning over your shoulder, “Oh, you’ll never know what it’s like until you’re there.”

And of course you never believe them.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/477665.html. You can comment here or there.

Linkback story: The Twin Omen

This is the linkback story for the December Giraffe Call (and on LJ). If you have linked back to the giraffe call, please leave a note here to receive your additional 50 words.

Names from Fourteen Minutes

In the nation of Quottes in the time of the seventeenth ruler, the birth of twins one male and one female, was believed to be a horrible omen.

Two twins of the up-swing gender lent power to their gender. Two twins of the down-swing could be bartered, sold, or married off for even more power. But fraternal twins, a boy and girl brought into the world at the same time, stood athwart the scales and, it was said, would through everything out of balance. Their chaos gods, in this nation beneath the Quoist Mountains, were fraternal twins.

So when it was that, in the seventeenth year of the reign of the seventeenth ruler, the Queen gave birth to one boy and one girl in one pregnancy, the nation was reasonably alarmed. As went the ruler’s children, so went the nation. And when every other pregnancy that year yielded the same…

…the nation was reasonably concerned. If a royal pair of fraternal twins were a bad omen, an entire nation of such was just about enough to tip the scales on its own.

The upward gender had not been in power for that long, and the downward gender were not ready, not yet, to take back their scepter. It was not time for a reorganization, not yet!

The wise and the clever and the powerful put their heads together, and together, they created a plan. The whole nation, every new parent, came together to fool the scales and hold the status quo.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/432812.html. You can comment here or there.

Moving Forward, a continuation of Wren/Nydia for the October Giraffe Call

This is to [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s commissioned continuation of
Love and Hospitality,
Graduation Plans,
Good Bones.

“No, I don’t think you understand.” Wren leaned forward over the table and tried not to pound on the table. Ladies do not throw tantrums in public. Ladies smile, and find out all their enemies’ weaknesses. Phelen had been full of good lessons. Massive control, but lots of good lessons. “We are not looking for someone who wants a nanny. We are not looking for someone who wants a mommy. We have our own children.”

“Look, if I’m going to top someone as a lifestyle, I expect them to cook and clean for me. I expect my subs to do as I tell them. That’s not being childish; that’s just the way I do things.”

He was slick as a snake and twice as scaly, although he was on the list as Faded. Nydia had gone silent next to Wren, and she understood the urge. She pursed her lips at the man.

“Then we are not interested.”

“You won’t find anyone else as skilled in this sort of thing as I am.”

Something about the way he argued made her want to argue back. “But it doesn’t matter how good of a plumber you are when we’re looking for an electrician.”

“If you truly knew what you wanted, you wouldn’t be in the market for a dom.” He reached over the table and touched Wren’s hand. She moved her hand away before he could press down.

“If you touch me without my permission ever again, I will ruin you faster than you can say ‘creepy old man.’ This interview is over. Thank you for your time.”

He stared at her. She wondered if anyone had ever said no to him before. She didn’t have time to baby him thorough this, though; Nydia was twitching next to her. “Good luck in your future endeavors.” She wasn’t very good at being authoritative, but she managed now, for the sake of the team. “Nydia. Come.”

It took her friend until they were in the car to realize what had happened. “Did you just…”

“You were frozen. He creeped you out?”

“Snake.” She curled up around her knees in the passenger seat. “If you hadn’t been there…”

“Hey, that’s why we’re a team. Come on, let’s go home. We’ve only got one more place to look at, and that’s not for another three hours.” And only two more people on Lady Maureen’s list. She didn’t want to have to write home and ask for another list. She wasn’t sure that would go over well.

There was a dead rabbit – no, a very well-tanned rabbit skin, head and all – and two jewelry boxes waiting in front of Wren & Nydia’s door. Not collars, she prayed, but Nydia was already opening one.

Not collars. Tennis bracelets, diamond tennis bracelets. Wren stared at the piece in surprise. “It’s your colors.”

“Bet the other one had brown stones. Rabbit skin?”

“Hey. It’s not a dead bird.” That probably would have freaked her out more. “Nyd… do you think it’s safe to bring the kids here?”

“Thresholds. Speaking of…” She unlocked the door and pushed Wren through.

“Only works on fae.” Wren grabbed Nydia’s arm and pulled her through anyway.

“Yeah, well, deadbolts and a steel door work pretty well on humans. Rabbit skin this time. He’s learning.”

“Why do you say he?” Wren closed the door and looked at the gifts.

“It’s just such a guy thing to do. So, where do we stand on our standings?” Nydia set the rabbit fur on a bookshelf, draping it over some piece of statuary she’d brought with her. “The buildings. That one next to the old factory?”

“That’s the best option so far. But I’m not sure about the other one, either. The one in the mall?” Wren stuck the brown tennis bracelet in her room. Where would she wear something like that?
“Meh. Too mall-y.” It was always a bit surprising when Nydia had opinions. “But at least we have options there.”

“The redhead…” Wren offered it up weakly, knowing it wasn’t going to work.

“The redhead was boring. Come on, the orders he came up with…”

“Were as bad as the creep today, I know.” She sat down in the big, comfy armchair. “I don’t know. I’m beginning to feel like Lady Maureen set us up for failure with these guys.”

“Why would she do that?”

“For a lesson, maybe? Or maybe she really likes one of the last two guys.” She glanced at her notes. “I’m not sure about that one. They’re likable-looking, but so was the snake today.”

“She doesn’t seem like she’d get something like that wrong. And she agreed with our plan.”

“That doesn’t mean that she thinks it will succeed.” The idea was beginning to sound more and more reasonable. Lady Maureen had wanted them to learn something. Maybe Maureen and DJ had gone in on it together. They could find a building that was almost perfect, and that would work out. But to find a boy who would be what they wanted – take them in hand without being overbearing, accept their collar without mooching, and be able to deal with their children without issue – that was beginning to seem impossible.

The phone ring cut across her moping like lightning through a grey sky. She scrambled for it, but Nydia picked it up first.

“Hello? Oh, yes. Yes, tomorrow at three, right. What? Ah, here, why don’t you talk to Wren?” Frowning, she passed the phone over.


“Hello, Miss Watson? This is Erwin Landero; I have an appointment with yourself and Miss Chatelle tomorrow at three? The Lady Maureen made the arrangements.”

“Yes.” She flipped open her appointment book. “Yes, we’re meeting at the Moon Beans Café.”

“I was hoping I could stop by today? I have a small pamphlet I’ve written up, and if you and Miss Chatelle had a chance to read it before we met, it would be wonderful.”

“Well, we won’t divulge our home address, but if you’d like to meet briefly at the Starbucks on the corner of Juniper and Clove, we could be there in forty-five minutes.”

“Thank you very much, and I understand the precautions. I’ll see you there. Juniper and Clove in forty-five minutes.”

“That’s interesting.” She hung up the phone and reached for her coat. “This one will either be a complete scum, or perfect.”
“So we’re taking the long way around the block, then?”

“I think we could use a little walk. And there’s that place on the corner we’ve been thinking about.”

She opened the door while Nydia got her coat. There, bending over to put something on their doormat, was the leanest, most feline-looking man she’d ever seen with a human face. He glanced up at her, dropped the thing – more chocolates – yelped, and ran away.

Wren could swear she saw him go halfway up the wall when he turned the corner.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/430424.html. You can comment here or there.