RRR*, version 2006.6, Part 4 (The Etheterre Chronicles)
*Round-Robin ‘Riting.
Part 3 remains open for editing the last section, while Part 4 forges ahead into new territory.
Date: January 13, 2008
Categories: RRRs, RPWs, and RPGs
Wednesday, 8 May 2024
Life, the universe, pies, hot-pink bunnies, world domination, and everything
*Round-Robin ‘Riting.
Part 3 remains open for editing the last section, while Part 4 forges ahead into new territory.
Date: January 13, 2008
Categories: RRRs, RPWs, and RPGs
Neat-O! Thanks, GAPAs dear!
Ditto to Alice’s post. Profuse thanks!
To ensure that Part 3 remains alive and well, I will only write on this thread after editing a section on the other thread.
OK, I have just done a section on the editing thread. So I can write whenever I happen to have an idea.
Despite the cold wind whipping through Emburr’s fur, he was soaking with sweat as he furiously pumped the handle of the acro-handcar. The syrupy, blue-black waters of the Szarken Strait heaved sluggishly below him. The air was full of the sounds of thrashing waves, shouted incantations and gasps of pain. A bolt of yellow light sizzled past his head, singeing the delicate tufts on his small, rounded ears. His vehicle quaked in terror. “Easy, girl,” he whispered. “Only a little farther to go.”
A howling drikk dove out of the violet sun, its four leathery wings blurring as it lunged at him. There was no time to perform an enchantment: Emburr simply leaped off and plunged into the ocean.
Above him, he heard a scream of gears as the acro-handcar was torn apart, and winced. But his own problem was more pressing. Though Fenkins like himself were not bothered by cold, their thick fur quickly became waterlogged and dragged them to the bottom.
He spat out seven words. A disc of ice formed below his feet and buoyed him up. He leaped the final five feet to shore, dodging magipult pebbles all the way to the narrow cave entrance.
The security field hummed as he passed through it, recognizing him as an ally. Emburr immediately snapped to attention, holding his left paw at snout level in the traditional salute of military Fenkins.
Major-General Heggs looked up from the chart he was poring over. “Report, du Kendomalin. How goes it?”
“All skrelched up- pardon my Lillix, sir. They’re still holding Terrafieg, and we haven’t made any progress, sir.”
“I thought we mobilized the acrotrains, du Kendomalin.”
“We did, sir.”
“Then how- ”
“They were downed, sir. All of them. More combat-trained drikks than I’ve ever seen in my life, sir.”
Heggs bit his lip. “How in the name of Imaganruis did the Usurpers manage to tame those animals?”
“Cruelty, sir. Same way they do everything.”
“You’re probably right, Kendomalin. How many survivors?”
“One, sir. Me, sir. Though I didn’t see the Phlejm being taken out- it may still be fighting, sir.”
“Qaadrekth! We’re losing too many, too fast. We’ll have to retreat. Give the order, Spui.”
A wooly-furred Xixin from the southern steppes relayed the command through his omnilinguic. Emburr clenched his fists, then dropped to all fours and lolloped at speed through an exit tunnel, vanishing into the darkness.
((Not particularly good, but we have something to work with now.))
I haven’t seen THF or Kiara in a long while. Alice has been around, as has TMFA, who has expressed interest in this story. So there’s still hope.
6- I emailed THF a link to this page. But she was around not too long ago. A week or so.
6- I’ll write once someone has just writen down some terms from the first book so I don’t get confused.
My sister drew a picture of Elanor. It’s actually quite a good picture, if not really how I picture her. I can send a picture of it to the GAPAs.
How many times can I say picture in a paragraph?
Alice (7): I just told her, and she said “okay,” then I asked her if she would come to the thread, and she said “maybe.” Sorry, that’s the best I can do!
8- Acro-handcar: A smaller version of an acrotrain (see.) Hand-cranked. For one or two passengers.
Szarken Strait: The passage between Terrafieg (see) and the mainland of Lillixa (see.)
Drikk: A Tsinglonkian (see) creature trained by the Usurpers for battle.
Fenkin: A sentient, rodentlike creature, native to the cold continent of Evencald, which corresponds to Africa.
Skrelch: Very, very bad curse word.
Acrotrain: A steam train enchanted to be nearly weightless. A side effect of the enchantment is that the vehicle gains a rudimentary mind, with no coherent thoughts but a semblance of emotions.
Qaadrekth: Not quite as bad as skrelch, but still pretty awful.
Xixin: Small, hovering ball of fur with prehensile tail, native to Lillixa (see).
Omnilinguic: An enchanted headset that acts as a combination real-time translator/intercom.
Terrafieg: A large island off the south coast of Lillixa (see.)
Lillixa: A continent of rainforest, mountains and steppe, corresponding to South America.
I can’t write due to my brain being taken up with my SKRELCHING RESPONSE TO LITERATURE ASSIGNMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK, that was off topic.
Nobody has written at all today. And I have writer’s block due to complications of Skoolcephalalgia Responsetoliteraturi. Help me.
13- Hmm. Severe case. *gives vial full of amber-colored fluid* Be very careful with this. Take one drop only when you’re feeling very dull; it can have some nasty side effects, including a tendency to see pineapples, fairies, and candles in people’s heads. Oh, and stay away from pillars of darkness.
Er…yeah. Maybe you should go and respond to the literature, and then come back when you’re done! *grins broadly*
Come to that, maybe I should go write a monologue speech for English, and then come back when I’m done.
14- Thank you. I responded to the literature, and now I’m back, but it’ll take some time to recover from this essay. And it’s only 50 minutes before I have to be in bed. And I have a headache. Skrelching qaadrekth.
ONE WEEK LATER
Elanor awoke to the harsh, trilling sound of woonkledevver calls filtering up through the rainforest canopy hundreds of feet below. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and blearily looked at the aeroak-and-brass clock that hovered silently beside her bed.
Six-thirty. Elanor stepped out of the bed, stretched, and proceeded to the closet, which slid open to admit her. She looked with amusement at the small, rather faded set of clothes that lay folded on the top shelf. She’d worn them on her first harrowing day in Etheterre- the first day she’d known who her father really was, why he’d been killed, and why the same people who had done the deed were now after her. They brought back several good memories and quite a few awful ones. But today, twenty months afterward, they looked rather childish.
Elanor selected a pair of comfortable, rugged pants made from rendu fiber, an old blue blouse that had once belonged to her mother and that she particularly liked, and after a moment’s consideration, a pair of somewhat extravagant boots.
When she finished dressing, the only clue to her position as heir to the Etheterran throne was the scapulae biblia, a leather belt inlaid with semiprecious stones and supporting a small, rectangular sheath on the left hip. The sheath contained a pocket-size black book which looked quite ordinary most of the time.
I’m exempting myself from my own restriction due to extraordinary circumstances. Once this thread picks up, I’ll edit.
HHeellpp,, ppoorr ffaavvoorr?? TThhiiss tthhrreeaadd iiss ddyyiinngg bbeeffoorree iitt hhaass aa cchhaannccee ttoo ggeett ssttaarrtteedd..
In this book, we need substantial character development, preferably for Elanor
We also need to show Lance dealing with the knowledge he gained near the end of the last book.
We should probably also delve deeper into Emburr’s and Intinier’s respective pasts.
Which is all impossible to achieve if I am the sole writer on this thread.
The good news is that I am done with my math homework.
Spanish, which is easy, is the only thing that remains.
So I can probably write if I have an inspiration.
This thread is not yet dead.
Do not give up hope.
POSOC
PS. Did you like my idea of the scapulae biblia?
Apologies for the… *counts…* sextuple post, but something just occurred to me.
I wonder if Xixins are any relation to Wungs.
Twenty months! *gapes* *does hasty addition* That makes her fourteen or so. Almost fourteen at least.
19- I like the biblia very much.
20- I’ve always imagined them looking much the same.
OK. So I haven’t written yet for two reasons.
1) If you’ll remember, I spent most of my time on the previous thread sitting around complaining of writer’s block or writing mediocre paragraphs which we often didn’t use.
2) SCHOOL IS TAKING OVER MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A typical weekday for me is get up at 6:00, catch the bus at 7:23, have school from 8:00 to 3:00, have rehearsal from 3:15 to 5:30, and then come home and do whatever I like (mostly homework, MB, and a little bit of cleaning) until 9:30, when I have to go to bed so that I can repeat the whole thing tomorrow.
Rehearsal is, of course, my own choice. And I do enjoy it. But I’m starting to feel that I don’t really have a family anymore. I see my mom two hours a weekday average.
21- Ah.
1) You’re the only one we’ve got, besides me. If you’re not satisfied with a post, you can always edit it later. What matters now is to move the story along.
2) Oh. My. Well, maybe you can write something on the weekend. Just letting me know someone else is here helps a lot, actually.
Elanor considered her reflection in the mirror that obligingly appeared on the closet door. Her hair was stubbornly remaining an unevenly mottled mass of golden-brown, but she’d managed to get it under a semblance of control by fastening it into a braid. Her face was still very much the round-chinned Wing physiognomy, although the chubby childishness had vanished from it. It was in those two respects that she most resembled her father. The rest of her appearance- the expressive brows, the long nose, the grey eyes- came from her mother.
Elanor turned away, the mirror vanishing as she did so, and stepped up on her bed. The springs creaked as she leaned over and unfastened the window’s clasp.
The panes of Evencald crystal retracted into the sill with a soft sigh, and Elanor launched herself out.
She dropped past the white stones of the tower, skimmed the solid buttresses of Xorotlaltec City’s walls, and plummeted down through layers of mist. Sheer cliffs of barren rock rose up to meet her, but she avoided every sharp crag and treacherous precipice, plunging rapidly toward the varied canopy of the vast Nozama rainforest.
Elanor pulled up at the last moment and hung in midair, barely ten feet above the treetops. She concentrated on keeping herself absolutely still. Although she’d almost completely mastered flying (and gotten used to the concept some time later), she still found it hard to hover without drifting slightly.
Speed, now- that was no problem. A quick hundred-eighty-degree turn, a kick of her heels, and Elanor was soaring back up the mountainside.
((Not all that good, but it’s something.))
A few minutes later, she walked into the dining hall, flushed from the thrill of flying – it hadn’t ceased to thrill her in the past two years – and slightly damp from the mist. She spied Lance sitting at a table, moodily staring at his breakfast, and she went over and plopped down on the seat beside him.
Since that fateful battle she had tended to treat him gently, though never so gently that he would notice, but she had not told him what she knew, and he had never told her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but sometimes she thought he would be a great deal happier if he didn’t keep it such a secret.
“Hi, Lance,” she said cheerily, helping herself to a piece of orange and purple fruit from a bowl in the middle of the table. She looked at it contemplatively.
“Hello,” said Lance. He smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.
Elanor stuck the fruit under his nose. “What’s this called again?”
He looked at it. “Can’t remember.”
Elanor bit into it. It was very good. It tasted like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, and it fizzed pleasantly.
Thanks! I’m not inspired at the moment, but your posts ought to help a lot.
I just have time 4 a really short one…
The man sitting in the shadows of the alleyway was not, in fact, a homeless person or a beggar. He appeared to be dressed in a clean, white, labcoat, and was busying himself setting up a wooden booth in the alley. He placed a small device on the shelf, covered by black cloth. He started calling out to the people nearby, “Come see this! The show of a lifetime! a brand new device that will rock you to the core! Only a dollar apeice!” Everyone was excited. What could be this new, revolutionary machine? They all gathered round,
27- ????
This isn’t an individual fiction thread. It’s more of a round robin story. You could go to the Writing Challenge thread or the Writing thread.
After polishing off two more of the fruits and a cereal that defied description, Elanor pushed back her chair and exited the dining hall, leaving Lance picking halfheartedly at his food.
She wandered restlessly through the now-familiar corridors of the fortress, hardly giving a thought to the bizarre architecture. I’m going stir-crazy from being cooped up here. I’m the only one capable of beating an Usurper, and yet they hardly let me past the city gates. I wish Emburr was back- he’s the only one who sees that it’s nonsense.
A large Xixin bumbled past her, bearing a tray with a silver servegelle urn on it. For lack of anything better to do, Elanor followed him, hovering slightly off the floor in order to make as little sound as possible.
The creature reached a thick, circular door which creaked open immediately. Inside, various beings- mostly humans and Xixins, but with a few Fenkins and at least one Capenlent- were hunched over a map.
“And on the subject of the Speheivic Islands,” a short, wiry human with violent orange hair said, “our campaigns have been extremely successful. We’ve driven them back from the Ergbin Strait almost to the Khotsku Peninsula, and construction of defensive forts on Hjuan-ki is progressing well.”
“I wish I could come with news as good,” a purple-furred Fenkin sighed. “Our forces were decimated off Terrafieg. They had over fifty light-combat drikks- ” this was followed by a collective gasp- “and at least two gloonshin, Acropons riding all of them.”
“Acropons?” the Capenlent asked worriedly. “This implies that Selvana is giving Hiskar substantial aid- oh, thank you, Tuggle…”
The serving Xixin had just set the urn down on the table. It was now handing out small plates.
HELP! Aaaaallllllliiiice! Teeeee Aaaaaiiiitch Efffffffffffff! Kiiiiiiiaaaara!!!! Juuuuliiiiieeeeeb! Teeee Emmmm Efffff Aaaaayyy!
31- Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiixxx. I have writer’s block. And homework. BUT, I should finish the homework before the night is out, and then I’ll come battle the WB, ‘kay?
32- Sure. I’ll help. Let me know when you’re done, and we’ll try to dynamite the writer’s block.
I’m back! And a little worried about my presentation. Oh well. I’ll do fine.
Okay, time to defeat the writer’s block.
Hey POSOC, somewhat random thought, but do you pronounce your name Pee Oh Ess Oh See, or Po-sock, or neither?
When in doubt, worldbuild.
I tend to pronounce it Poe Zock.
36- Oh great. My worst subject.
Poe Zock sounds about right.
Post here, pleez.
A flock of servegelles popped out of the urn, wobbling gelatinously across the table. Each one made for a particular plate. Once they reached their destinations, the servegelles took on a more liquid aspect, various foods congealing out of their glutinous depths.
Elanor looked at them, faintly nauseated. After nearly two years in Etheterre, she hadn’t gotten used to servegelles. Intinier had assured her that they were perfectly hygienic, but even so, Elanor preferred to arrive to dinner at least two minutes late, at which time the urns would have been taken away.
As the council-members’ breakfast fully materialized, the servegelles plopped off their respective plates and wobbled back into their urn.
The Capenlent looked up, and Elanor recognized her as Intinier. The glowing orange face broke into a smile. “Elanor! Come in, please.”
Elanor joined them. She was always eager to learn as much as she could about strategy, tactics and the latest developments in the war with the Usurpers, as she couldn’t get information firsthand.
There were no chairs available, and one of the councillors moved as if to conjure one from the floor. But the young Wing simply floated two feet into the air, then sat down cross-legged, still hovering. “You were saying?”
All right. I’m posting.
Did you know “alright” isn’t actually a word?
41- Yes. I always say “all right.”
Isn’t it funny how “I’ll write” and “all right” sound exactly the same when you say them?
They sound the same if you have a Southern accent or if you’re careless; not otherwise.
43- I must be careless.
It depends on how I say it. I don’t usually notice how I say things, but they don’t usually sounds the same. Not exactly, at least.
I was going to clean my room today.
Sweaters + sunshine = sluggishness
43- I’m southern and I say it exactly that way!
43- It’s more like “aw’ll right” in the south.
The Fenkin continued. “General Heggs and General Fbui are retreating across no-being’s-land as of their last report, with what remains of the 137th and 138th cohorts.”
“The 138th!” Elanor exclaimed. “Emburr’s down there!”
“I hope he’s all right… ” Intinier said worriedly.
The Fenkin coughed, staring disapprovingly at Elanor through his thick spectacles. “Terrafieg is completely under Usurper command as of now. The Acropons sighted by Fbui’s scouts confirm that the Usurpers are working together to a degree not previously seen. We can only conclude that their leader is taking more active control of their movements. In other words, he sees us as a threat worthy of his personal notice… Tiggle, this is an extremely important meeting. We can’t be interrupted by spherophone calls.”
“I’fi inkolit spepo grnk,” the Xixin, who had just entered, said courteously. “‘Fi dindel Kendomalin. ‘Fi grnk Carushaluk.”
Intinier snatched the wooden sphere from its resting place in the silver eggcup that Tiggle bore. “Hello?”
To Elanor’s enormous surprise and relief, a voice emanated from the ball- staticky and unclear, but recognizably Emburr’s. “Intinier, that you? If it is, talk fast- I had to bribe three people to get a five-minute personal call on the portable.”
“Yes, yes, it is- heavens without, I thought you were dead!”
“No, I’m fine- couple of ribs broken, but other than that, peachy. Listen, Heggs was going to notify you once we reached Fort Roconi, but I figured you’d like to know in advance- We picked up a Capenlent on the way over. Found him in no-being’s-land, on his last legs- he’s the main reason the medicomages haven’t gotten around to fixing up my ribs yet. Anyhow, his name’s Fentinor, and he says he’s your brother.”
But Emburr might as well have hung up halfway through his last sentence, for at the word “Fentinor,” Intinier’s luminous skin flared brighter than a lightbulb filament, then dulled to a faint coral radiance as she collapsed into her chair. The spherophone rolled away across the tiled floor. “Hello? Hello? Oh, qaadrekth… Grip! You owe me five… ” The rest was cut off with a buzz and a click.
Elanor jumped down from her perch in the air. Intinier was reviving, her skin flickering faintly and her hair waving lethargically. “Are you okay?” Elanor asked.
“I’m . . .fine,” whispered Intinier faintly. “But Fentinor . . . !”
“Who is Fentinor?”
“My brother,” said Intinier. “He disappeared years ago. I thought he was long dead.”
“Well,” said Elanor cheerily, “he’s not.”
Note:
THF was the first to mention Fentinor, in the sequence when they’re trekking through the Nozama in the first book. He was Intinier’s younger brother, and apparently drowned. Nothing else is said besides the fact that he disappeared into the Itlianpokic Ocean and Intinier apparently witnessed it. It probably took place during the time that the Carushaluk family had been enslaved by Hiskar. That’s all I know.
50- Thank you. I might have made big mistakes if I didn’t know that.
Shall we go to a new chapter? For some reason, I can’t think of any way to continue directly from 49.
Also, I think we need to kill off one of the major characters in this book. Not Lance, of course- we haven’t developed him near enough yet. Should it be Emburr? Intinier? Or Elanor’s mother?
52- Um…
20 – You’re late on that, I believe. I think I suggested that (I might be wrong and just thought about it) relatively soon after the Wung thread began. But Xixins have tails, and they float, while wungs don’t have tails and only some species can fly/float.
I have millions of notes, but I forgot them, so I’ll do that later.
As for the killing off, we already kind of killed off what’s-his-name… *searches threads* This is pathetic, I don’t even remember this kind of thing… Ah, that’s right. Mr. Roglea. Just because he’s still alive doesn’t mean we didn’t completely transform a character who had the potential to be a major good guy. I don’t think I can live to take out Emburr, although he’s in the perfect place and time to die. Intinier could take it, but she’s too nice and happy to be removed yet. Besides, with Emburr gone, no one else is so connected. I suppose there’s Fentinor, and that would be perfect and incredibly heartbreaking – she lost her brother ages ago and she never gets to meet him because she dies. The problem is, how do we get her out without creating a huge battle, which I don’t think we want?
I could continue from 49, but I’ll edit it now, so that it makes a little bit more sense for who Fentinor is.
I’m going to go ahead and post this, but I’ll be back soon!
Oops, that post was a little unclear for the 3rd paragraph thingy.
Intinier was the one I was mentioning about killing off for most of that paragraph, and I didn’t ever mean to suggest killing off Fentinor. He’s come too soon to die (although not too soon to leave.)
“no one else is so connected” is referring to knowledge of the world of Etheterre. She’s the only one who can answer all their questions and whatnot. who’s a close friend
54- Well, we can’t kill either of them off right now. Not right at the beginning of the second book.
True, though, that Mr. Roglea was “killed.” And Woodle, though he wasn’t exactly major.
56 – I could create a cover and say that I didn’t think Woodle was major, but the truth is I had forgotten about him. I liked Woodle, though.
Speaking of creating covers, we should make a cover for the first book. And a title, eventually.
Elanor jumped down from her perch in the air. Intinier was reviving, her skin flickering faintly and her hair waving lethargically. “Are you okay?” Elanor asked.
“I’m . . .fine,” whispered Intinier faintly. “But Fentinor . . . !”
“Who is Fentinor?”
“My brother,” said Intinier, still flickering. “He disappeared into the Itlintanpok Ocean – the Atlantic in Reality,” she added, “When we were just coming to Kolombent. I thought he was long dead. How could this have happened?”
“Well,” said Elanor cheerily, “he’s not dead. That’s nice. Right?”
But Intinier was still asking herself the same question, “How could this have happened? It’s not possible. He’s dead. It was the black water. I barely survived the toxins, and I was in much better shape. How in the name of Imaganrius did he survive?”
Elanor was about to use her Reality response of “Magic?” when she realized that magic existed in Etheterre. This was the response she used with her eccentric fencing coach. H was always talking about the impossible things happening everywhere – from his drive to work to things happening in Kosovo’s politics. Even two years later, she felt homesick.
This might not work, and I’m really just getting myself back in the groove, so you guys don’t think it’ll work, scratch it.
Works OK, but the homesick part might be modified a little, as it’s earlier been hinted that she was content in Etheterre.
58 – You’re right. I just wanted to bring her fencing back into the mix, because I like it, but it hasn’t been used at all. Oftentimes it’s been hinted that she knows nothing about fighting, when it was established early on that she was a wonderful fencer
59- Let’s have her get into a swordfight somewhere in this book.
Glad you’re back. You’re one of the core writers.
*waves feebly* Hi.
Swordfight = great.
I60 – and i’s great to be back!
61 – Hi…?
I don’t know how often I’ll be on, because we’ve been having a bunch of long-term homework (which, when you receive it, seems better than one-night homework, because you can put it off. Eventually, however, you’ve got to actually do it. Hehe. Sorry, off-topic-ish) But I’ll be on at least a few times a week.
I love this story. It rocks, even though it is so very fantastical. What I love about it is that it’s not exactly serious (it is incredibly serious, but what I mean is that you can say whatever you want and make it fit.) And also you know the writers so well. This sounds stupid. Whatever.
Will someone else edit the last story post? I don’t really know how you guys want it.
I’ll just see what I can do:
Elanor was about to use her Reality response of “Magic?†when she realized that magic existed in Etheterre. Even two years later, when she had even been practicing magic, she forgot about small things like this. “Magic?” was the response she had often used with her eccentric fencing coach. He was always talking about the impossible things happening everywhere – from his drive to work to things happening in Kosovo’s politics.
I can’t really continue unless you tell me if that works, so I know this is just a taste of my own medicine, but it would really help if you just came and said, “yeah, that’s fine.”
Yeah, that works.
*has just come from RRR SMAS-TT*
*tries to think about escaped Capenlent slaves and prominent Hartford convention members simultaneously*
*brain crashes*
I really need to stop working on multiple RRRs. *enters reboot command by pressing nose*
The rest of the people in the room had left, except for the Fenkin that had given the update. After what felt like ages to the others, Intinier stood up from her chair, suddenly glowing brightly. “The Fenelknus saved Fentinor’s life.”
“The portal creature?” said the Fenkin doubtfully. “I don’t think so. Nothing has been heard of the Fenelknus for 2 thousand years.”
“Why do you think they call it the portal creature?” persisted Intinier. “It sensed the danger that was to come, and it went to Reality. It came back only to save Fentinor. I’m sure of it.”
That’s all I’m going to write. But I wanted to let you guys know that the Fenelknus is supposed to be the Loch Ness Monster. It is the Pegasus of Etheterre. There is only one of its kind, and it has supreme magical abilities. It can transport itself to anywhere in Reality, and then come back to anywhere in Etheterre. The rest of its abilities are up to you guys.
48 – “Peachy” seems like an odd term for a creature who has never heard of a peach to be using. It is a brilliant example of Emburr’s sense of humor, and seems to fit perfectly, but it’s not really possible. That’s actually the first thing I thought of when I read that. We can probably just leave it, seeing as I can’t come up with a way to fix it.
68- It could just be something that sort of slipped through into Etheterre, or maybe Emburr picked it up on his travels.
That’s certainly possible. There are a lot of “dead metaphor” idioms in English today. For example, “You sound like a broken record,” referring to someone who keeps repeating the same thing over and over. People still say that, even though most MBers have probably never heard a cracked vinyl phonograph record skipping so that the needle in the groove plays the same few seconds of music repeatedly. Or “they came from the four corners of the Earth,” an image from the flat-Earth days. Or “let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water” — something that’s not even possible now that bathtubs have drains and can’t be moved.
70- I’ve heard broken records! They’re so annoying.
Ah, but 1. I’ve never heard the bath water one
2. I know exactly what a stuck record is, and have played them many times.
3. The four corners of the earth has turned into a figurative meaning, it seems to me.
Those all came from the past, which is perfectly reasonable, but it is not the same as from a different world. It is possible, I now understand, that he learned it from Atherton. It’s just that if I were an editor, I would want to change that, because it doesn’t really fit. In my opinion.
Alice – since you’re here, would you mind continuing my continuation?
Loch Ness monster? that could be fun
Or just tell me that you think it’s dumb and that we should never reference the Loch Ness monster in the story.
I love the Loch Ness Monster.
But I’m confused.
I’ll leave this tab open and write when I’m done with my post on RRR SMAS-TT.
Elanor frowned thoughtfully. “What’s the Fenelknus?” she asked.
“It’s a creature that can travel between Reality and Etheterre, at any place. There’s only one of it, and it’s amazingly magical.”
“And it saved Fentinor?”
“I’m sure it did.”
“But why?” asked Elanor. “if it was hiding out in Reality, why would it come back to rescue one person who fell into the sea? Surely hundreds of people have fallen into the sea. Did it rescue all of them?”
More later.
PS: I definitely think it should be Nessie, but I’m not sure how to work that in yet.
!!!!
The gateway of Woalt is unknown, right? Well, what if instead of it being a location, like all the others, it’s a creature?
“The Fenelknus can see the future,” said Intinier. “Maybe it saw that Fentinor did something important in the future, so it rescued him.”
Elanor had to admit that it was possible. Most everything was possible in Etheterre.
77- That’s a really good idea! If it doesn’t work with post 78 (which isn’t that great anyway), we can just ignore that mediocre bit of writing.
“It must have known that he would have an important part to play in the future,” Intinier said doubtfully.
Elanor snorted. “There has to be some other explanation.”
“There can’t be. The ocean around Tsinglonk is runoff from the salt deserts- hot as the pit, and deadly poisonous. It seeps in through your pores. Crystal divers have to wear special suits if they’re going to be in it for more than twenty seconds, and even those corrode.”
Everything is brilliant. Yay
I can’t type a continuation right now, because I promised my brother I would only take 2 minutes of his time. Excellent work though, guys.
Elanor thought about this conversation. After living in Etheterre for 2 years, she should have learned that anything was possible in this world. But something was nagging her about this creature. It didn’t seem right. It was like the battle of two consciences. One conscience said it was impossible for this creature to be in existence – and even if it did exist, there was no way that it would come just to rescue some random Capenlent. The other conscience said that it was entirely possible for Fentinor to be an important part in the Revolution. ((What’s that called in Etheterre again?)) This “Fenelknus” sounded just like something that would exist in Etheterre. Intinier was smart – it sounded like the perfect story. The other conscience argued – Intinier was also persuasive, and a friend to top that. Elanor probably just wanted to believe it.
Gah! Someone glance at this lovely thread and my unbelievable continuation! Please?
83- I know, I know. I’ve been thinking about lots of RRRs lately. I’ll continue this one when I get home from school – if my fingers aren’t too cold to type.
I’m back here.
~
“If we may return to the subject?” said the Fenkin, glowering.
(More later, my mom needs me to set the table)
“I believe that since the Usurper is beginning to directly control the actions of his subordinates, our attritional campaigns will no longer work. We should concentrate on forcing Hiskar’s armies out of Terrafieg, and then fortify our borders until a further course of action can be decided upon.”
“Are you suggesting that we should abandon Hjuan-ki?” the human fumed. “We can’t do that now! The Usurper is practically within our grasp! Once we penetrate the Zhouhydern Range, we’ll have direct access to his fortress!”
“That’s all very well, but we simply don’t have the power necessary to get through the mountains and still confront him at the end of the journey! In case you’ve forgotten, my learned colleague, he’s practically invulnerable and the only known Arkael mage to boot!”
“Arkaels are an outdated superstition!” The human prodded his opponent’s furry chest.
“Then how do you explain- ” The Fenkin stuttered to a stop, as though teetering on the brink of saying something he knew he shouldn’t have said.
86 – But hadn’t the people left for a bit? I thought that would be an interesting opportunity for adventure. Oh well, we’ll just say that they came back.
“How do you explain what? What your friend can do? Did you see him set fire to the elixir that he invented, eh?”
The library’s closing pretty much now, I’ve got to go.
87- The Fenkin was still around, but I don’t think the human was. Sorry. My mistake.
88 – Right. But I like your continuation, so we’ll say they came back. It would really make more sense if they hadn’t left in the first place, but I didn’t want the huge crowd with Intinier’s big spiel about Fentinor.
The Fenkin was red by nature, ((tell me if his color has been clarified and it’s not red))but he seemed to turn even redder as he yelled at the human. “You have absolutely no right to insult the Arkael oath! If you believe they don’t exist, fine, but respect my battle plans!” He seemed to calm down after the human said nothing. “Out of Terrafieg. I promise you will not regret it.”
Hmm. I’ve always had trouble with this particular RRR. I’m no good at battle tactics.
I’m going to go shopping, I’ll think VERY HARD about this while I’m gone, and see what I’ve come up with when I get back.
I think we should have Lance slowly go mad.
Justification: The mental aspect of his magic is already messed up- he has all this power and only knows how to control the tiniest fraction. His betrayal by the only person who’d ever cared for him didn’t help either. Take all these powerful emotions running rampant through a thaumaturgy-saturated brain that’s growing steadily more chaotic, leave to ferment for almost two years, and you have a recipe for insanity.
I don’t have any ideas as to how this would affect the story if implemented. Could be temporary, could be permanent. Maybe the Usurpers would try to influence him. I don’t know.
92- Yes, but if we do send him over to the Dark Side, let’s NOT have it be a repeat of Tam, OK? One half-mad, side-switching character is all I need. Although I doubt Lance could ever truly be like Tam – he has a much stronger will. But still.
93- Lance wouldn’t join Zefethelyan. The Usurpers might manage to influence him, but he won’t become part of their side. And he won’t be “half-mad,” he’ll be almost entirely so.
94- True. I realized that he would be fully mad after I’d typed that, but I didn’t care enough to change it.
And in that case, we might as well let him be influenced.
Tam being… ?
I think a temporary madness would be wonderful, but the mad-scientist type, not the insane asylum type.
Yeah, we definitely need to bring Lance back into the picture.
96- Tam was a character in the Sea Roc RRR.
“Very well,” the other said. “I’ll inform the rest of the Regency Council, but I can’t promise anything.”
The fenkin, who really does have a name and may earn a larger role later even though that’s the last thing the story needs, was clearly pleased. “All right then,” he said, “I suppose that now we should address the position of the remaining Resistance armies.”
“And which armies would those be?” The human raised an eyebrow. “You’re not talking about our reserve troops, are you?”
“Oh no.” The fenkin smiled. “I have something bigger in mind.”
I honestly think that this story is falling apart – we’ve brought up too many things. This is largely my fault, but I still think we need to take some things out so that the reader isn’t overwhelmed.
But I can’t think of anything to take out right now.
POSOC, would you please describe the current battle positions of at least a few armies? Because I’m getting confused (I have no excuse, it’s just been a while since I had everything figured out) and I don’t want to write something that will mess anything up.
98- Most of the battle stuff is just little details. You mean Fentinor and the Fenelknus, don’t you? I think we should cut the Fenelknus, if anything- it’s kind of random.
99- OK, so we cut the Fenelknus… does that mean we cut the entire previous conversation too?
I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to really get into the swing of this RRR. Even while I love this story, and talk and dream about it, I just have trouble writing anything. *sigh*
Script Frenzy’s gone and done it again. I can’t write a word because of that blasted contest.
The battle positions: The armies the human’s responsible for occupy the easternmost tip of what would be Russia in Reality, and have set up forts in Hjuan-ki (Japan). Many of their forces are devoted to that front, but as the Usurpers are advancing up Terrafieg and into southern Lillix, the Fenkin wants to pull the human’s armies out and send them to the defense of Lillix.
I think it’s really perfect to cut the Fenelknus and Fentinor – but it may be perfect to add that another time. Right now, though, it seems a bit overwhelming. As I said. Wow, do I have a huge vocabulary.
101 – Thanks.
Alice – As much as we would love for you to write some stuff, you’ve already helped plot-wise. It’s nice to have you around, whether it’s as an editor/storyline helper or as a writer.
Hey, how about POSOC writes some stuff?
102- *winces* Yeah, let’s add Fentinor LATER. And I will write. As soon as I recover from my 12-day week.
Okay I’m going to write a piece of crap for a continuation next time I think of it if someone doesn’t write a continuation soon.
That’s the end of the chapter. Now for a new one.
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
This is part of a dream I want Lance to have.
105- Sounds good. I’ll write a continuation from that.
POSOC… ? Care to make a continuation?
I don’t want to give you any ideas unless you ask for them. But please start insanitizing Lance.
I tried to last night, but was interrupted. Apologies. At least I have an idea now.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away…
Excellent – but now we have to figure something out. Are we looking at Lance, or is this more of a description of his thoughts? In the beginning, I wanted it to seem like the reader was in the dream, almost. But I realize that it’s really impossible to complete the dream unless you reference who is dreaming it.
109- I don’t understand.
109- It’s a description of his thoughts. I thought we wouldn’t let the reader know who’s dreaming until the end of the dream.
Oh, I think I get it now. *nod*
Sounds good.
Hey, what if we leave the reader hanging for a chapter or two before Lance describes it to someone or if it comes back?
I’m trying really hard not to dictate this because people who do are jerk-ish. I just tend to get random rushes of ideas, and you certainly don’t have to use them. Especially if they’re bad ideas.
113- I don’t mind at all, as I do the same thing.
Hi, sorry about not posting for a while, I was in Arizona all last week and I’ve been kind of busy since then.
I can’t continue right now, but I’ll clarify what I said last post.
“Hey, what if we leave the reader hanging about the dream’s meaning and who was dreaming for a chapter or two and let Lance reveal it to someone else? Or otherwise, we could have the dream come back in some way, but write about Lance waking up or something like that later in the story.
115- That’s a good idea.
What are we doing with the first sequence, the one that we thought was totally overstuffed (Fentinor, Fenelknus, etc)? Are we just scrapping it and having the dream be the beginning?
Ooh, postses. From a long time ago… Figures. Anyway, I think maybe we should scrap what was written after post 29. It seems that we were undecided on what to do with it, and knowing how the editing went for the first part of this, I don’t think we’d ever get around to changing it. Maybe we should write the dream, and then put it before we meet Elanor again, but after Emburr’s piece.
117- I agree. And lastly, we’ll reintroduce Intinier, so that the reader gets to catch up on each of the main characters.
I know I was the one who wrote the thing, so obviously I’m going to like it, but I still think that the dream would be a great beginning to part 2.
I agree with pretty much everything said so far.
Hi everyone! I just happened to start reading what you guys have written so far and ITS AWESOME! However, I haven’t read this thread yet, because its getting a little late for me, so I’m going to bed.
I don’t know, I feel kind of awkward and all, jumping in so late, but, could I help write?
120- !!! You read all of it? That’s like, FOUR PAGES.
-dies-
I wonder if I would still do that kind of thing. I don’t really have to anymore. But would I? I think so.
121) Well, actually, I pretty much squandered yesterday. I woke up at 6:;30 and began a novel. I didn’t put it down until I had finished it, at 12:00. I decided that I was going to make something of the rest of the day, so I practiced piano. Then, I decided to take a “short” break on MB. Unfortunately, I started reading this and I ended up reading it until dinner time, and then after. Alas. I fear that I read all day yesterday.
Oh sorry for the double post. I wasn’t thinking about getting back on the computer, since we’re going to visit my grandmother today, but I decided to anyway.
I read thread 4 today, since I didn’t get to it yesterday, since I was already up too late. But, it’s really ironic, because I happened to wake up in the middle of the night, due to my incredubly itchy face, and I started thinking about what I thought the second book would be like. My wandered to focus on Lance. In fact, I was thinking about how cool it would be if the Usurpers had a huge influence on him. I mean, it makes sense, right? Lance is an Arkael, and there is only one other, as far as we know, an Usurper (his name starts with a Z, but I don’t know how to spell it). So, we can imagine that Lance is really curious about his powers, lonely because he thinks he practically the only one of his kind, and mad because his teacher has betrayed him and is now dead from his newly matrilized sister. However, I don’t really want him to go to the dark side, too much live Murtagh in Eldest and Darth Vader. I thinking, what if Lance got captured by the enemy in a battle and Z_____________ tried to win him over. Perhaps Lance even gave in at first, but slowly snaps out of it. He somehow gets in contact with the Resistance and turns spy for them. What do you guys think? I’m kind of new to this, so, if its a very bad idea, that’s OK. Of course, if this plan did work, it would be a long time before it was put into action, because there has to be a battle first………..
121 – Um, you kind of did. It wasn’t as much as kiwimuncher, but you came to the story pretty late in the game too.
123 – Zefethelyan. Wait. That doesn’t look right. Well, I think it’s right…
That’s a great idea, and I sincerely mean that, but I think, well, I think a few things about it:
1. It’s sort of cliche, although it’s definitely good to veer away from Vader.
2. I don’t know if you read our comments, too, or just the story and skimmed the comments, but we already decided that he was going to go totally insane. Well, I don’t know, POSOC was really excited about that and stuff.
3. I actually think that for book 2 we really have to lay low on all these crazy ideas… we’re in way over our heads here, if you know what I mean.
124-
1. Well, yeah, I guess I did.
2. I think that’s right. I really only know how to pronounce it.
3 (1). I agree.
4 (2). Go total insanity! Plus he wasn’t going to join their side.
5 (3). Lord, yes…
And Kiwi, let’s not repeat the Sea Roc here. I don’t even want to think about it, it’s such a mess…
125) OK! Will resist!
Hmmmmmm. I see what you mean. It kind of is cliche……
*time lapse* Oh! Oops! Was staring at something shiny……
So, where exactly are we now? *scans* Oh, wait, we’re scrapping all until post 29? *reads again* Or are we starting with the dream? Or are we doing both?
126 – Both. The dream is sort of the 2nd chapter, I think.
I’m sorry not to post anything else, but I don’t really have much to say.
OK! I am back! Arg! This thread is going very slowly. I guess I should do something. *contemplates*
So, the dream begins with a turtle, something silver, and a golden ocean. And then switches to Lance swimming? Or is Lance the turtle in the dream? Or……… something else?
128 – You get used to it.
Lance was swimming from the beginning. Lance isn’t the turtle. Let me explain.
The beginning is sort of unexplained – this is describing the view from Lance’s point of view, since it’s his dream. But he isn’t active in the dream until the second part.
You get the rest, right?
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away…
Oh! OK! I get it now! That seems to be a good ending to the dream! And then we can have Lance wake up gasping or something like that.
But what exactly does this dream foreshadow? Perhaps power (the gold) destroying him?
130- It might not mean anything. It could just be his total madness.
131) Hmmmmm. That too.
With a gasp, Lance sat up in bed. His hair stuck to the sides of his drenched face in complete disarray and his hands shook as if on their own accord. With a shudder, he stumbled out of bed and into a small bathroom. Lance was relieved to wash the sweat away from his face. For a moment, he paused at a mirror. He had changed a lot in the past months. The angle of his face appeared more drawn (is that the right word ) and his eyes seemed to give a haunted reflection of his experiences.
Ummmmmmm. It’s not much, but is that OK?
130 – It’s not what the dream means, but what we want Lance to think it means. It probably doesn’t mean anything.
132 – See post 115 (and after it). I think we agreed that the reader won’t know it’s Lance’s dream (or that it’s a dream at all) until a bit later.
Oh. OK. So, do we continue on with the dream or do we jump to something else for the time being?
*lurks*
*continues lurking* Where is everyone?
*sob*
I’m here, but I haven’t been here often.
I can’t believe no-one noticed this before. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before. Well, maybe I did, but I was probably in denial.
Elanor is the consummate Mary Sue.
Allow me to express my feelings on this point, viz., CAKE.
Mary Sue? Who is that?
140- Google it. Others express it far better than I do. *facepalm*
Elanor? Mary Sue? -dies-
… All main characters are Mary Sues… Aren’t they?
But Elanor can fly…
Oh. That’s a bad thing, right? We don’t want a Mary Sue.
143- It’s bad.
But what can we do?
She’s really smart, years above her grade. She can fly. She can heal. She’s actually ruler of a magical country, and an orphan.
Oh dear.
SEE? *dies*
I noticed this before, but I didn’t want to admit that my precious Etheterre had a flaw.
Now what do we do? I don’t wanna re-write the whole thing again…
Oh, dear. I don’t know what to do…
I blame myself. I could have caught this months ago if I was willing to admit that my favorite RRR was in need of some serious help.
147- You would have had to catch it years ago, not months ago. We’ve barely written in months.
148- We have? Blog time is really strange.
Goodness. This would mean rewriting the whole thing. This is a catastrophe! seriously, it could end up changing the whole story line. *sob*
We can deal with some of this. The flying has to stay, naturally, as does the fact that she’s ruler of Etheterre. She’s not totally an orphan, anyways. And we can do away with her being ahead of her grade if that would help.
151- Prolly would.
Yeah. And perhaps we could add in a few bits about her being slightly more insecure. I mean, I know that if I was thrust out of the only world I’ve ever known for my whole life into a entirely new place where I am expected to lead at such a young age and where I know nothing of it’s life/people. And people trying to kill me might also be an added stressor. All in all, Elanor should be freaking out……….. But….strangely…….. she seems to be gung ho about this.
153- Good caking idea.
153- Good point.
Thankyou!
Elanor is sort of supposed to be a Mary Sue, is she not? She’s the neutral, perfect character. Everyone else floats around her with their problems. There’s no way around it, especially since she’s the one from Reality who doesn’t have much. She’s different, because she can fence and she can fly and she has an opinion, but there’s no denying that she’s a bit of a Mary Sue. However *pause for effect* the reader may find something in Elanor because (and despite) of her plain-Jane-ness. If she had a complex character, along with all the other complicated things, the story would be done for. Seriously, think about it.
We can always give her a quirk of some kind, a sudden realization perhaps, something like that, along the road, but why is that necessary? I say, leave her be, (except maybe her wicked-smartness – I never liked that) because Mary Sue may be the only oasis in this desert.
(cliche intended)
I am, of course, still fine with your solution.
157) Hmmmmmmm. Actually, I see what you mean.
So, what are we going to do?
*lurking*
*pouts*
160- Hey, I can’t use my uber-resurrection powers on two RRRs at one time! I’ll be back once the Alchemy RRR has regained momentum.
Okey dokey!
*listens to Lion King music*
hee hee Scar is so EVIL!
Meticulous planing!
Tenacity spanning!
Decades od denial!
Is sinmply why I’ll
be King undisputed
Respected, saluted……
Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Wow. Looking back on that moment, I must have went a little weirdy there…….
162- What’s the name of the song when he convinces the hyenas to help him? I want to set a video of a presidential campaign speech to that music.
164) Yeah. It is. Oh, that would be AWEFUL if there was a video like that. It would be so HILARIOUS!
Oh. It’s called “Be Prepared” Oops. Misread your post.
*lurks some more*
Wow. I was thinking. No one has written since June 1st.
I don’t really know what to do about the Mary Sue-ness, but I’d be glad to make some sort of continuation to the story if that’s what we want to do.
I won’t write it until you guys give an OK though.
Oh. I don’t know about anyone else, but I would love a continuation. It would bring a little action to this incredibly slow thread!
*lurk*
Gurgle!
Everytime I go on this thread. I’m always hoping that someone will post something. ANYTHING! But that never happens. *sigh*
Elanor poured herself some tea and grabbed a doughnut-like pastry from a tray in the corner of the dining room. Just as she was biting into the deep-fried crust to get to the pure fruit she knew was inside, she heard someone in the corner say, “Don’t eat the m’ahles. They’re not good for you.”
“What are you talking about, Lance? I’ve been eating these for breakfast every day for months! So long as I stay away from the fenai’ak ones, they’re perfectly healthy. All the chefs say so.”
“They’re not good for you. Royalty can be killed by eating too much fruit.”
“Then why haven’t you stopped me before now, huh?”
The short, black-haired young man just looked down. “I… don’t know.”
174- Is he short? There seems to be contradictory information on this point.
175 – You’re right, I always think of Lance as the ten-year-old “small, stocky, black-haired” boy he was at the beginning of the story. I’ll just take out the “short” from post 174.
*celebrates* Yes! Awesomely awesome!
Poor Elanor. No fruit? Simply terrible! I couldn’t imagine……. I love fruit……..
177 – it may be that Elanor can’t have fruit… but it may be simply that Lance thinks Elanor can’t have fruit. It’s not been made clear yet, so you can make it whichever way you like. I love fruit too. Well, most fruits, anyway.
So, kiwimuncher or POSOC (or Alice, that would be nice), go and continue the story! At some point! Hehe! Because I will not.
178- I think it should be that Lance thinks Elanor can’t have fruit. Because, I mean, since when has it been a problem? There’s never even been a hint that the royalty has strange food allergies. But there has been a hint that Lance is going mad…
“Great,” said Elanor gloomily. “No fruit.” She glanced down at the Codex. Shouldn’t it warn her if her life was in danger? She knew it would protect her from immediate danger, most of the time at least ((doesn’t it? I can’t remember)), but did fruit overdose count as immediate danger?
She got up from the table. “I’m going to go see Intinier,” she told Lance. “Do know where she is?”
Or maybe Elanor really can’t have too much Etheterre fruit, but Lance had a subliminal vision about it (part of his Arkael stuff) and will do anything to make sure it is acknowledged. Or maybe it’s not that she’s royalty, it’s that she’s spent her life in Reality and isn’t used to it, or something. Who knows?
Oh, and in the Keeper’s edition, I’m changing
” “Then why haven’t you stopped me before now, huh?â€
The black-haired young man just looked down. “I… didn’t know until now. Sorry.” “
Wait – she can control the Codex now, can’t she? It won’t warn her anymore… maybe. Gah, I’m so confused.
“No. She hasn’t come down.”
“So you’re stalking us all now? Lovely. Well, thanks anyway.” Elanor sighed and walked back to her room, where she could easily find the Capenlent.
Gosh. Confusion. OK. I haven’t read Etheterre in so long, I need to reread it. I actually don’t remember who Itinier is. *sigh* I shall reread later.
183 – She’s that Capenlent phagomage? You know, the immigrant one? She lost her brother in the Itlintanpok ocean? The black waters? Oh, come on, Intinier Carushaluk? The one who cooked them all that stuff? Ooh, she made them lunch? Remember now? Um, if that doesn’t help you, I guess you will have to re-read it.
184) Oh! OH! You mean the lady you ran the cafe before it, um, got blown to smithereens? Yeah………. I recall this now……… Thanks!
Why is Elanor seeking her out? Just to have a friendly chat?
Well, that hasn’t been established yet – it’s for the continuer to decide.
Maybe that continuer will be you! Maybe… hehe… care to continue?
185- To ask about the fruit, I think…
187) Ummmmmmmmmmm…….. but it sounds like Elanor would have been planning to visit Itinier before Lance was even there. Maybe……… I don’t know……
Oh wait! What if she’s going up there to ask Itineir for news, like Itineir was in some meeting that Elanor wasn’t allowed to be in…… or soemthin liek that……… I might write tonight but can’t now because……. school = now. Eep!
OK! I’m bAck!
———————————————–
Elanor hurried along until she reached a familiar door. As she stepped into the room behind the door, Elanor spotted a restful form huddled under a thin sheet.
“Itineir!” she cried, dismayed.
Slowly,the phagomage lifted the covers from her head. “Elanor, couldn’t you wait a few more hours? No? I suppose not.” With a deep sigh, she sat up in bed. “OK OK” she relented. “I suppose you want to here about the counsel meeting last night?”
kiwimuncher: It’s Intinier, not Intineir.
Arg. Sorry. I’m a very bad speller. Tisn’t one of my strong points…….. It was kind of close? Right? *is hopeful*
So……………………………. what will we have going on in the counsel meeting?
*waits patiently*
OK. Well, I assume people really are frequenting this thread and they just don’t know what to do next. I really don’t think I know enough about this to make such a large decision so early on. I mean, the things discussed in this council meeting are most likely going to be important to the flow of this story. So………. anyway……. I suppose they’re talking about the war. Maybe something’s happening on the front? Maybe something shadowy is happening with the enemy, like they’re eerily quiet or something. Does anyone have any ideas? We should probubly discuss this.
Or, if we end up in a hole with this, we can scratch the whole counsel thing just do something else. What does everyone think? Pole? *is hopeful*
*whistling*
*listens to Somewhere Over the Rainbow* Rainbows are so pretty. Don’t you think so? Of course, I somehow doubt that there is a land beyond the rainbow. Really, all a rainbow is light waves. *random thoughts reign*
OK. This is ridiculous! No one but me seems to have been on here in the past 20 freakin days! If you had a lot of work that you’re doing of something, you could AT LEAST post “Hi” of something to let me know that I’m not just an idiot talking to a BLANK SCREEN!
I only post on this thread if I have something to contribute. I’m kind of at a complete and total block for this story, and I have nothing to contribute. When I do, I will post my ideas.
Any meeting would probably have had Elanor in it. If you want it to be a meeting, you have to come up with a reason for her to have been absent. I have no idea what would have gone on in the meeting.
Please don’t post totally random thoughts that have nothing to do with the thread, it just clogs things up.
Okay, I just read that last post, and it was really cold. Sorry kiwimuncher, I didn’t mean to be mean.
199) That’s OK, I just don’t want this thread to die.
Ok, I’ve been thinking about why Elanor would not be at the meeting. Well, when you think about it, Elanor is extremely young for a ruler, no matter how powerful she is. I would think that if I were the leader of a resistence, I wouldn’t want to take orders from a teenager, and she’s really so young that she’s hardly a teenager. I think. I don’t exactly remember how old she is…… Anyway,…… And, plus, Elanor isn’t exactly very familiar with this new world yet, so she would pretty much be ussless to them in a meeting. Plus, since she’s so powerful, the leader of this resistance probubly wouldn’t want her in there anyway, just in case she might decide to become leader herself. And because of her position, the people would most likely support her, which the resistence leader doesn’t want. So……… does that make sense?
201 – There are a few problems with your reasoning:
1) We have been talking about how she has been to meetings before. She is young, but we have established that since it is her birthright, she needs to take the throne when she can. Also, it’s not like she’s the ruler or anything, not yet, she would just be at the meeting to give some ideas and observe how the system works. Some more.
2) She is familiar with Etheterre; she’s been living there for 2 years. And even if she were useless in the meeting, it doesn’t mean the future leader doesn’t deserve to be there.
3) Okay, I forget my third reason. But still.
2 YEARS?! Oh gosh, I totally forgot. *dies*
Yeah, I see what you’re saying. Gurgle. Maybe we should change around what we have so far about that part and have that she was there, but that she’s now discussing it with Itenier or something.
Ok, so we can change it to…….
——————————————————
Slowly,the phagomage lifted the covers from her head. “Elanor, couldn’t you wait a few more hours? No? I suppose not.†With a deep sigh, she sat up in bed. “OK OK†she relented. “I suppose you want to discuss what went on at the counsel meeting yesterday?â€
So, since it’s been a month……um……. has anyone gotten any ideas?
I think this thread is dying. And I don’t know what to do about it! arg.
Merry Christmas all nonexistent people on this thread. *sigh*
Sorry. I haven’t anything and I feel it’s got something to do with the whole starting-a-new-book thing. Perhaps we should scrap the little we have and map it out in more detail. But I only say that because I have no other ideas.
THF reprimanded me, so I’m here.
The thing is, I don’t understand Etheterre. I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.
People! YAY!
208) I agree. It would be easier to write if we had a plan for it. As much as it’s sad to admit.
209) I have faith in you Alice! You wouldn’t mess it up! But I know what you mean, I feel the same way myself.
OK! Let’s get the show on the road!
So, we’re scrapping everything! Right? *tentativly throws in trash can* (not litterally, but….. yeah, you get it…..)
And now to map out! *deep breathe* Hmmmmmmmmmm. I really don’t know. What exactly is the plan for this second book? What is going to happen? What will be accomplished by the end? I don’t think that anyone really discussed this in detail at the beginning……
I don’t know, are we scrapping everything. I sort of thought we were just mapping out what happens after what we’ve already written (if that makes any sense).
You know what this (depressingly) reminds me of?
The last thread of the original RRR.
You know the one.
They got a new thread, started to write, and then managed to reach about two hundred posts or more without making any definitive decisions.
We need to change that.
I’ll go yell at gently nudge POSOC now, how’s that sound?
Clearly, gentle nudges fail. And yet I am reluctant to actually yell.
Your gentle nudge did not fail. I am here, and feeling extremely guilty yet ready and willing to help.
*reads last few posts* Wtc? “Royalty can be killed by eating too much fruit… ” Huh? OK, I’m even more confused than I was.
All right, everyone, let’s decide what we’re keeping and what we’re not keeping.
This is what we have if we put all consecutive story posts together:
Despite the cold wind whipping through Emburr’s fur, he was soaking with sweat as he furiously pumped the handle of the acro-handcar. The syrupy, blue-black waters of the Szarken Strait heaved sluggishly below him. The air was full of the sounds of thrashing waves, shouted incantations and gasps of pain. A bolt of yellow light sizzled past his head, singeing the delicate tufts on his small, rounded ears. His vehicle quaked in terror. “Easy, girl,†he whispered. “Only a little farther to go.â€
A howling drikk dove out of the violet sun, its four leathery wings blurring as it lunged at him. There was no time to perform an enchantment: Emburr simply leaped off and plunged into the ocean.
Above him, he heard a scream of gears as the acro-handcar was torn apart, and winced. But his own problem was more pressing. Though Fenkins like himself were not bothered by cold, their thick fur quickly became waterlogged and dragged them to the bottom.
He spat out seven words. A disc of ice formed below his feet and buoyed him up. He leaped the final five feet to shore, dodging magipult pebbles all the way to the narrow cave entrance.
The security field hummed as he passed through it, recognizing him as an ally. Emburr immediately snapped to attention, holding his left paw at snout level in the traditional salute of military Fenkins.
Major-General Heggs looked up from the chart he was poring over. “Report, du Kendomalin. How goes it?â€
“All skrelched up- pardon my Lillix, sir. They’re still holding Terrafieg, and we haven’t made any progress, sir.â€
“I thought we mobilized the acrotrains, du Kendomalin.â€
“We did, sir.â€
“Then how- â€
“They were downed, sir. All of them. More combat-trained drikks than I’ve ever seen in my life, sir.â€
Heggs bit his lip. “How in the name of Imaganruis did the Usurpers manage to tame those animals?â€
“Cruelty, sir. Same way they do everything.â€
“You’re probably right, Kendomalin. How many survivors?â€
“One, sir. Me, sir. Though I didn’t see the Phlejm being taken out- it may still be fighting, sir.â€
“Qaadrekth! We’re losing too many, too fast. We’ll have to retreat. Give the order, Spui.â€
A wooly-furred Xixin from the southern steppes relayed the command through his omnilinguic. Emburr clenched his fists, then dropped to all fours and lolloped at speed through an exit tunnel, vanishing into the darkness.
ONE WEEK LATER
Elanor awoke to the harsh, trilling sound of woonkledevver calls filtering up through the rainforest canopy hundreds of feet below. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and blearily looked at the aeroak-and-brass clock that hovered silently beside her bed.
Six-thirty. Elanor stepped out of the bed, stretched, and proceeded to the closet, which slid open to admit her. She looked with amusement at the small, rather faded set of clothes that lay folded on the top shelf. She’d worn them on her first harrowing day in Etheterre- the first day she’d known who her father really was, why he’d been killed, and why the same people who had done the deed were now after her. They brought back several good memories and quite a few awful ones. But today, twenty months afterward, they looked rather childish.
Elanor selected a pair of comfortable, rugged pants made from rendu fiber, an old blue blouse that had once belonged to her mother and that she particularly liked, and after a moment’s consideration, a pair of somewhat extravagant boots.
When she finished dressing, the only clue to her position as heir to the Etheterran throne was the scapulae biblia, a leather belt inlaid with semiprecious stones and supporting a small, rectangular sheath on the left hip. The sheath contained a pocket-size black book which looked quite ordinary most of the time.
Elanor considered her reflection in the mirror that obligingly appeared on the closet door. Her hair was stubbornly remaining an unevenly mottled mass of golden-brown, but she’d managed to get it under a semblance of control by fastening it into a braid. Her face was still very much the round-chinned Wing physiognomy, although the chubby childishness had vanished from it. It was in those two respects that she most resembled her father. The rest of her appearance- the expressive brows, the long nose, the grey eyes- came from her mother.
Elanor turned away, the mirror vanishing as she did so, and stepped up on her bed. The springs creaked as she leaned over and unfastened the window’s clasp.
The panes of Evencald crystal retracted into the sill with a soft sigh, and Elanor launched herself out.
She dropped past the white stones of the tower, skimmed the solid buttresses of Xorotlaltec City’s walls, and plummeted down through layers of mist. Sheer cliffs of barren rock rose up to meet her, but she avoided every sharp crag and treacherous precipice, plunging rapidly toward the varied canopy of the vast Nozama rainforest.
Elanor pulled up at the last moment and hung in midair, barely ten feet above the treetops. She concentrated on keeping herself absolutely still. Although she’d almost completely mastered flying (and gotten used to the concept some time later), she still found it hard to hover without drifting slightly.
Speed, now- that was no problem. A quick hundred-eighty-degree turn, a kick of her heels, and Elanor was soaring back up the mountainside.
A few minutes later, she walked into the dining hall, flushed from the thrill of flying – it hadn’t ceased to thrill her in the past two years – and slightly damp from the mist. She spied Lance sitting at a table, moodily staring at his breakfast, and she went over and plopped down on the seat beside him.
Since that fateful battle she had tended to treat him gently, though never so gently that he would notice, but she had not told him what she knew, and he had never told her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but sometimes she thought he would be a great deal happier if he didn’t keep it such a secret.
“Hi, Lance,†she said cheerily, helping herself to a piece of orange and purple fruit from a bowl in the middle of the table. She looked at it contemplatively.
“Hello,†said Lance. He smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.
Elanor stuck the fruit under his nose. “What’s this called again?â€
He looked at it. “Can’t remember.â€
Elanor bit into it. It was very good. It tasted like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, and it fizzed pleasantly.
After polishing off two more of the fruits and a cereal that defied description, Elanor pushed back her chair and exited the dining hall, leaving Lance picking halfheartedly at his food.
She wandered restlessly through the now-familiar corridors of the fortress, hardly giving a thought to the bizarre architecture. I’m going stir-crazy from being cooped up here. I’m the only one capable of beating an Usurper, and yet they hardly let me past the city gates. I wish Emburr was back- he’s the only one who sees that it’s nonsense.
A large Xixin bumbled past her, bearing a tray with a silver servegelle urn on it. For lack of anything better to do, Elanor followed him, hovering slightly off the floor in order to make as little sound as possible.
The creature reached a thick, circular door which creaked open immediately. Inside, various beings- mostly humans and Xixins, but with a few Fenkins and at least one Capenlent- were hunched over a map.
“And on the subject of the Speheivic Islands,†a short, wiry human with violent orange hair said, “our campaigns have been extremely successful. We’ve driven them back from the Ergbin Strait almost to the Khotsku Peninsula, and construction of defensive forts on Hjuan-ki is progressing well.â€
“I wish I could come with news as good,†a purple-furred Fenkin sighed. “Our forces were decimated off Terrafieg. They had over fifty light-combat drikks- †this was followed by a collective gasp- “and at least two gloonshin, Acropons riding all of them.â€
“Acropons?†the Capenlent asked worriedly. “This implies that Selvana is giving Hiskar substantial aid- oh, thank you, Tuggle…â€
The serving Xixin had just set the urn down on the table. It was now handing out small plates.
A flock of servegelles popped out of the urn, wobbling gelatinously across the table. Each one made for a particular plate. Once they reached their destinations, the servegelles took on a more liquid aspect, various foods congealing out of their glutinous depths.
Elanor looked at them, faintly nauseated. After nearly two years in Etheterre, she hadn’t gotten used to servegelles. Intinier had assured her that they were perfectly hygienic, but even so, Elanor preferred to arrive to dinner at least two minutes late, at which time the urns would have been taken away.
As the council-members’ breakfast fully materialized, the servegelles plopped off their respective plates and wobbled back into their urn.
The Capenlent looked up, and Elanor recognized her as Intinier. The glowing orange face broke into a smile. “Elanor! Come in, please.â€
Elanor joined them. She was always eager to learn as much as she could about strategy, tactics and the latest developments in the war with the Usurpers, as she couldn’t get information firsthand.
There were no chairs available, and one of the councillors moved as if to conjure one from the floor. But the young Wing simply floated two feet into the air, then sat down cross-legged, still hovering. “You were saying?â€
The Fenkin continued. “General Heggs and General Fbui are retreating across no-being’s-land as of their last report, with what remains of the 137th and 138th cohorts.â€
“The 138th!†Elanor exclaimed. “Emburr’s down there!â€
“I hope he’s all right… †Intinier said worriedly.
The Fenkin coughed, staring disapprovingly at Elanor through his thick spectacles. “Terrafieg is completely under Usurper command as of now. The Acropons sighted by Fbui’s scouts confirm that the Usurpers are working together to a degree not previously seen. We can only conclude that their leader is taking more active control of their movements. In other words, he sees us as a threat worthy of his personal notice… Tiggle, this is an extremely important meeting. We can’t be interrupted by spherophone calls.â€
“I’fi inkolit spepo grnk,†the Xixin, who had just entered, said courteously. “‘Fi dindel Kendomalin. ‘Fi grnk Carushaluk.â€
Intinier snatched the wooden sphere from its resting place in the silver eggcup that Tiggle bore. “Hello?â€
To Elanor’s enormous surprise and relief, a voice emanated from the ball- staticky and unclear, but recognizably Emburr’s. “Intinier, that you? If it is, talk fast- I had to bribe three people to get a five-minute personal call on the portable.â€
“Yes, yes, it is- heavens without, I thought you were dead!â€
“No, I’m fine- couple of ribs broken, but other than that, peachy. Listen, Heggs was going to notify you once we reached Fort Roconi, but I figured you’d like to know in advance- We picked up a Capenlent on the way over. Found him in no-being’s-land, on his last legs- he’s the main reason the medicomages haven’t gotten around to fixing up my ribs yet. Anyhow, his name’s Fentinor, and he says he’s your brother.â€
But Emburr might as well have hung up halfway through his last sentence, for at the word “Fentinor,†Intinier’s luminous skin flared brighter than a lightbulb filament, then dulled to a faint coral radiance as she collapsed into her chair. The spherophone rolled away across the tiled floor. “Hello? Hello? Oh, qaadrekth… Grip! You owe me five… †The rest was cut off with a buzz and a click.
Elanor jumped down from her perch in the air. Intinier was reviving, her skin flickering faintly and her hair waving lethargically. “Are you okay?†Elanor asked.
“I’m . . .fine,†whispered Intinier faintly. “But Fentinor . . . !â€
“Who is Fentinor?â€
“My brother,†said Intinier, still flickering. “He disappeared into the Itlintanpok Ocean – the Atlantic in Reality,†she added, “When we were just coming to Kolombent. I thought he was long dead. How could this have happened?â€
“Well,†said Elanor cheerily, “he’s not dead. That’s nice. Right?â€
But Intinier was still asking herself the same question, “How could this have happened? It’s not possible. He’s dead. It was the black water. I barely survived the toxins, and I was in much better shape. How in the name of Imaganrius did he survive?â€
Elanor was about to use her Reality response of “Magic?†when she realized that magic existed in Etheterre. Even two years later, when she had even been practicing magic, she forgot about small things like this. “Magic?†was the response she had often used with her eccentric fencing coach. He was always talking about the impossible things happening everywhere – from his drive to work to things happening in Kosovo’s politics.
The rest of the people in the room had left, except for the Fenkin that had given the update. After what felt like ages to the others, Intinier stood up from her chair, suddenly glowing brightly. “The Fenelknus saved Fentinor’s life.â€
“The portal creature?†said the Fenkin doubtfully. “I don’t think so. Nothing has been heard of the Fenelknus for 2 thousand years.â€
“Why do you think they call it the portal creature?†persisted Intinier. “It sensed the danger that was to come, and it went to Reality. It came back only to save Fentinor. I’m sure of it.â€
Elanor frowned thoughtfully. “What’s the Fenelknus?†she asked.
“It’s a creature that can travel between Reality and Etheterre, at any place. There’s only one of it, and it’s amazingly magical.â€
“And it saved Fentinor?â€
“I’m sure it did.â€
“But why?†asked Elanor. “if it was hiding out in Reality, why would it come back to rescue one person who fell into the sea? Surely hundreds of people have fallen into the sea. Did it rescue all of them?â€
“The Fenelknus can see the future,†said Intinier. “Maybe it saw that Fentinor did something important in the future, so it rescued him.â€
Elanor had to admit that it was possible. Most everything was possible in Etheterre.
“It must have known that he would have an important part to play in the future,†Intinier said doubtfully.
Elanor snorted. “There has to be some other explanation.â€
“There can’t be. The ocean around Tsinglonk is runoff from the salt deserts- hot as the pit, and deadly poisonous. It seeps in through your pores. Crystal divers have to wear special suits if they’re going to be in it for more than twenty seconds, and even those corrode.â€
Elanor thought about this conversation. After living in Etheterre for 2 years, she should have learned that anything was possible in this world. But something was nagging her about this creature. It didn’t seem right. It was like the battle of two consciences. One conscience said it was impossible for this creature to be in existence – and even if it did exist, there was no way that it would come just to rescue some random Capenlent. The other conscience said that it was entirely possible for Fentinor to be an important part in the Revolution. This “Fenelknus†sounded just like something that would exist in Etheterre. Intinier was smart – it sounded like the perfect story. The other conscience argued – Intinier was also persuasive, and a friend to top that. Elanor probably just wanted to believe it.
“If we may return to the subject?†said the Fenkin, glowering.
“I believe that since the Usurper is beginning to directly control the actions of his subordinates, our attritional campaigns will no longer work. We should concentrate on forcing Hiskar’s armies out of Terrafieg, and then fortify our borders until a further course of action can be decided upon.â€
“Are you suggesting that we should abandon Hjuan-ki?†the human fumed. “We can’t do that now! The Usurper is practically within our grasp! Once we penetrate the Zhouhydern Range, we’ll have direct access to his fortress!â€
“That’s all very well, but we simply don’t have the power necessary to get through the mountains and still confront him at the end of the journey! In case you’ve forgotten, my learned colleague, he’s practically invulnerable and the only known Arkael mage to boot!â€
“Arkaels are an outdated superstition!†The human prodded his opponent’s furry chest.
“Then how do you explain- †The Fenkin stuttered to a stop, as though teetering on the brink of saying something he knew he shouldn’t have said.
“How do you explain what? What your friend can do? Did you see him set fire to the elixir that he invented, eh?â€
The Fenkin was red by nature, but he seemed to turn even redder as he yelled at the human. “You have absolutely no right to insult the Arkael oath! If you believe they don’t exist, fine, but respect my battle plans!†He seemed to calm down after the human said nothing. “Out of Terrafieg. I promise you will not regret it.â€
“Very well,†the other said. “I’ll inform the rest of the Regency Council, but I can’t promise anything.â€
The fenkin, who really does have a name and may earn a larger role later even though that’s the last thing the story needs, was clearly pleased. “All right then,†he said, “I suppose that now we should address the position of the remaining Resistance armies.â€
“And which armies would those be?†The human raised an eyebrow. “You’re not talking about our reserve troops, are you?â€
“Oh no.†The fenkin smiled. “I have something bigger in mind.â€
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away…
With a gasp, Lance sat up in bed. His hair stuck to the sides of his drenched face in complete disarray and his hands shook as if on their own accord. With a shudder, he stumbled out of bed and into a small bathroom. Lance was relieved to wash the sweat away from his face. For a moment, he paused at a mirror. He had changed a lot in the past months. The angle of his face appeared more drawn and his eyes seemed to give a haunted reflection of his experiences.
Elanor poured herself some tea and grabbed a doughnut-like pastry from a tray in the corner of the dining room. Just as she was biting into the deep-fried crust to get to the pure fruit she knew was inside, she heard someone in the corner say, “Don’t eat the m’ahles. They’re not good for you.â€
“What are you talking about, Lance? I’ve been eating these for breakfast every day for months! So long as I stay away from the fenai’ak ones, they’re perfectly healthy. All the chefs say so.â€
“They’re not good for you. Royalty can be killed by eating too much fruit.â€
“Then why haven’t you stopped me before now, huh?â€
The black-haired young man just looked down. “I… didn’t know until now. Sorry.”
“Great,†said Elanor gloomily. “No fruit.†She glanced down at the Codex. Shouldn’t it warn her if her life was in danger? She knew it would protect her from immediate danger, most of the time at least, but did fruit overdose count as immediate danger?
She got up from the table. “I’m going to go see Intinier,†she told Lance. “Do know where she is?â€
“No. She hasn’t come down.â€
“So you’re stalking us all now? Lovely. Well, thanks anyway.†Elanor sighed and walked back to her room, where she could easily find the Capenlent.
Elanor hurried along until she reached a familiar door. As she stepped into the room behind the door, Elanor spotted a restful form huddled under a thin sheet.
“Itineir!†she cried, dismayed.
Slowly, the phagomage lifted the covers from her head. “Elanor, couldn’t you wait a few more hours? No? I suppose not.†With a deep sigh, she sat up in bed. “OK OK†she relented. “I suppose you want to discuss what went on at the counsel meeting yesterday?â€
If we take out everything we decided to take out, we have this:
Despite the cold wind whipping through Emburr’s fur, he was soaking with sweat as he furiously pumped the handle of the acro-handcar. The syrupy, blue-black waters of the Szarken Strait heaved sluggishly below him. The air was full of the sounds of thrashing waves, shouted incantations and gasps of pain. A bolt of yellow light sizzled past his head, singeing the delicate tufts on his small, rounded ears. His vehicle quaked in terror. “Easy, girl,†he whispered. “Only a little farther to go.â€
A howling drikk dove out of the violet sun, its four leathery wings blurring as it lunged at him. There was no time to perform an enchantment: Emburr simply leaped off and plunged into the ocean.
Above him, he heard a scream of gears as the acro-handcar was torn apart, and winced. But his own problem was more pressing. Though Fenkins like himself were not bothered by cold, their thick fur quickly became waterlogged and dragged them to the bottom.
He spat out seven words. A disc of ice formed below his feet and buoyed him up. He leaped the final five feet to shore, dodging magipult pebbles all the way to the narrow cave entrance.
The security field hummed as he passed through it, recognizing him as an ally. Emburr immediately snapped to attention, holding his left paw at snout level in the traditional salute of military Fenkins.
Major-General Heggs looked up from the chart he was poring over. “Report, du Kendomalin. How goes it?â€
“All skrelched up- pardon my Lillix, sir. They’re still holding Terrafieg, and we haven’t made any progress, sir.â€
“I thought we mobilized the acrotrains, du Kendomalin.â€
“We did, sir.â€
“Then how- â€
“They were downed, sir. All of them. More combat-trained drikks than I’ve ever seen in my life, sir.â€
Heggs bit his lip. “How in the name of Imaganruis did the Usurpers manage to tame those animals?â€
“Cruelty, sir. Same way they do everything.â€
“You’re probably right, Kendomalin. How many survivors?â€
“One, sir. Me, sir. Though I didn’t see the Phlejm being taken out- it may still be fighting, sir.â€
“Qaadrekth! We’re losing too many, too fast. We’ll have to retreat. Give the order, Spui.â€
A wooly-furred Xixin from the southern steppes relayed the command through his omnilinguic. Emburr clenched his fists, then dropped to all fours and lolloped at speed through an exit tunnel, vanishing into the darkness.
ONE WEEK LATER
Elanor awoke to the harsh, trilling sound of woonkledevver calls filtering up through the rainforest canopy hundreds of feet below. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and blearily looked at the aeroak-and-brass clock that hovered silently beside her bed.
Six-thirty. Elanor stepped out of the bed, stretched, and proceeded to the closet, which slid open to admit her. She looked with amusement at the small, rather faded set of clothes that lay folded on the top shelf. She’d worn them on her first harrowing day in Etheterre- the first day she’d known who her father really was, why he’d been killed, and why the same people who had done the deed were now after her. They brought back several good memories and quite a few awful ones. But today, twenty months afterward, they looked rather childish.
Elanor selected a pair of comfortable, rugged pants made from rendu fiber, an old blue blouse that had once belonged to her mother and that she particularly liked, and after a moment’s consideration, a pair of somewhat extravagant boots.
When she finished dressing, the only clue to her position as heir to the Etheterran throne was the scapulae biblia, a leather belt inlaid with semiprecious stones and supporting a small, rectangular sheath on the left hip. The sheath contained a pocket-size black book which looked quite ordinary most of the time.
Elanor considered her reflection in the mirror that obligingly appeared on the closet door. Her hair was stubbornly remaining an unevenly mottled mass of golden-brown, but she’d managed to get it under a semblance of control by fastening it into a braid. Her face was still very much the round-chinned Wing physiognomy, although the chubby childishness had vanished from it. It was in those two respects that she most resembled her father. The rest of her appearance- the expressive brows, the long nose, the grey eyes- came from her mother.
Elanor turned away, the mirror vanishing as she did so, and stepped up on her bed. The springs creaked as she leaned over and unfastened the window’s clasp.
The panes of Evencald crystal retracted into the sill with a soft sigh, and Elanor launched herself out.
She dropped past the white stones of the tower, skimmed the solid buttresses of Xorotlaltec City’s walls, and plummeted down through layers of mist. Sheer cliffs of barren rock rose up to meet her, but she avoided every sharp crag and treacherous precipice, plunging rapidly toward the varied canopy of the vast Nozama rainforest.
Elanor pulled up at the last moment and hung in midair, barely ten feet above the treetops. She concentrated on keeping herself absolutely still. Although she’d almost completely mastered flying (and gotten used to the concept some time later), she still found it hard to hover without drifting slightly.
Speed, now- that was no problem. A quick hundred-eighty-degree turn, a kick of her heels, and Elanor was soaring back up the mountainside.
A few minutes later, she walked into the dining hall, flushed from the thrill of flying – it hadn’t ceased to thrill her in the past two years – and slightly damp from the mist. She spied Lance sitting at a table, moodily staring at his breakfast, and she went over and plopped down on the seat beside him.
Since that fateful battle she had tended to treat him gently, though never so gently that he would notice, but she had not told him what she knew, and he had never told her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but sometimes she thought he would be a great deal happier if he didn’t keep it such a secret.
“Hi, Lance,†she said cheerily, helping herself to a piece of orange and purple fruit from a bowl in the middle of the table. She looked at it contemplatively.
“Hello,†said Lance. He smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.
Elanor stuck the fruit under his nose. “What’s this called again?â€
He looked at it. “Can’t remember.â€
Elanor bit into it. It was very good. It tasted like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, and it fizzed pleasantly.
After polishing off two more of the fruits and a cereal that defied description, Elanor pushed back her chair and exited the dining hall, leaving Lance picking halfheartedly at his food.
Elanor poured herself some tea and grabbed a doughnut-like pastry from a tray in the corner of the dining room. Just as she was biting into the deep-fried crust to get to the pure fruit she knew was inside, she heard someone in the corner say, “Don’t eat the m’ahles. They’re not good for you.â€
“What are you talking about, Lance? I’ve been eating these for breakfast every day for months! So long as I stay away from the fenai’ak ones, they’re perfectly healthy. All the chefs say so.â€
“They’re not good for you. Royalty can be killed by eating too much fruit.â€
“Then why haven’t you stopped me before now, huh?â€
The black-haired young man just looked down. “I… didn’t know until now. Sorry.”
“Great,†said Elanor gloomily. “No fruit.†She glanced down at the Codex. Shouldn’t it warn her if her life was in danger? She knew it would protect her from immediate danger, most of the time at least, but did fruit overdose count as immediate danger?
She got up from the table. “I’m going to go see Intinier,†she told Lance. “Do know where she is?â€
“No. She hasn’t come down.â€
“So you’re stalking us all now? Lovely. Well, thanks anyway.†Elanor sighed and walked back to her room, where she could easily find the Capenlent.
Elanor hurried along until she reached a familiar door. As she stepped into the room behind the door, Elanor spotted a restful form huddled under a thin sheet.
“Itineir!†she cried, dismayed.
Slowly, the phagomage lifted the covers from her head. “Elanor, couldn’t you wait a few more hours? No? I suppose not.†With a deep sigh, she sat up in bed. “OK OK†she relented. “I suppose you want to discuss what went on at the counsel meeting yesterday?â€
And then somewhere in this mess we have this:
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away…
I don’t even know. We did decide to take out the council meeting, didn’t we? Or just the fenelknus? Or what?
I think we decided to permanently cut the Fenelknus, and leave Fentinor to be introduced later. I kind of liked the council meeting, but it is a sort of unnecessary frill, so it can be cut if necessary.
I shouldn’t mind keeping the council meeting myself. It seemed a shame to cut such a lot of perfectly good writing.
212) hmmmmmmm. too true. In fract, that was exactly what we did with this thread. Sort of. What a coincedence……..
214) Hi POSOC! I haven’t seen you in what seems like forever!
215) Yeah, we did do that. In fact, I think we had decided to do a “start over” kind of thing. and now I guess we’re kind of doing it again……..
217) I agree, but there are a few complications with the passage that we would need to work out and…… oh gosh……. the part that we have now needs wrk too. The “no fruit” thing is kind of……. interesting………
Oh gurgle! It’s official! Somehow I always manage to ruin a good conversation! *sigh* *clips mouth shut*
My GOD, guys, have you any idea what you did? Who first wrote about Atherton Wing? Because there’s episode in Firefly where Mal duels with a man named Atherton Wing, and there’s NO WAY that’s a coincidence.
220- I… did not know that.
Cake. Caking cake. Caking cakefaced cake-caking chocolate cake with maraschino cherries.
221- I KNOW!!!
‘Twas Phoebe, on October 15, 2006.
221) I like cake……… *feels awkward* I don’t actually know what Firefly is……… BUt….. OK……
224- It’s a TV show. It only ran one season (2002).
223- I knew it. PHOEBE!!!!! What were you thinking?
Well, what do we do now?
225) So, you mean that we can’t use that name because it’s the naem of somthing else? Or…… Sorry, I’m not exactly thinking clearly right now…………. Coudln’t we jsut change the name or something? Or…… sorry I don’t remember what Atherton wing is exactly……
(226) Something like, say, Anderson Wung?
226- We could keep the name, I mean, Firefly fans are few and far between (ooh, alliteration!), but what Firefly fans do ever read it will know.
Oh, and Atherton Wing is Elinor’s dad.
228) Well, it would be fairly easy to change the name. Right? I mean, he isn’t exactly found much throughout the book. I mean, he’s kind of not alive.
229- I s’pose so. We could keep the Wing part (we kind of have to), just change the first name. But let’s see what THF and POSOC say.
230- I guess just change the first name.
Yeah, Atherton Wing is kind of a Mary Sue name anyway. As you said, we have to keep the Wing part, but the Atherton could go to something simpler. Anderson is too Real, but I don’t know what to do instead.
I like Anderson, we could use that. Though I suppose if that’s too real we could use something like…… um…… Asterix. Or Alderton. Or Aleo___….something like that.
Alexander?
You know what could add some cool character development? After__. Like Afterton Wing or something. Except not Afterton.
Asterix is maybe to starry, Alderton too real, and I really like Aleo-something, or even Aleo by itself. Alexander is good, but I can’t help hearing Alice-and-her Wing.
Albion? It’s an old/poetic name for England.
236) Ooooooooooooo. Me likes that!
Albion works for me. It sounds good and has good contrast with the name Elanor, and it’s not your average name—it could easily be an Etheterre name.
As for the scrapping the book so far, I think that we should keep some ideas, but pretend we never wrote it. It’ll get too confusing otherwise.
Albion’s a nice name. I imagine if I ever have children they shall all suffer horribly. Or they may not. There are such a lot of silly made-up names out there.
Yay! So, have we now officially established his name? If so, where were we before we began this particular discussion? I really can’t recall. *looks up on thread*
Oh. Yes. I had just ruined the conversation. So, we really weren’t discussing anything before we started talking about this. Hmmm. Interesting. So……. anyway….. *feels awkward*
I’m back! And no one else has posted since I was absent. So I guess it doesn’t matter that I was ever absent. Where is everyone?
Do yall think that it would be easier to write this is we fixed the problems with the first one? I mean, it might help. Yeah. *feels awkward again*
Well patooty. What should I do now?
Something needs to HAPPEN in this story! something! anything! *racks brain*
What is the whole pint of this book? What did we want to happen in this book? We need some kind of goal to work towards! I think we established that we want to Lance to go a little crazy. Maybe he’ll leave in secret to….. to…… do something. Find answers. I don’t know! And Elanor goes in search of him. Or follows him. Or something like that. And they end of getting mixed up in the war eventually and…… that’s all I’ve got. Y’all most likely won’t like that idea because most of my plans are ridiculous, but at least it may start some conversation!
242- Not a little mad–totally mad.
My idea or Lance or both?
244- Lance.
OK! So this is good! I think….. I just don’t know where to start! *rubs temples*
Ethe-ethe-ethe -ethe terre- etheterre-terre. *music*
Woo! Yahoo! Cambooliaphuntic! Yeah! Gadzoomba! Humphydink! *any other exclamation you can think of* This thread is cracklackin! *gets excited* Now lets do something worth being excited about!
OK. So I just totally freaked myself out. Way too much emphusiasm.
So, like I was saying, we need to bring life to this thread. LIFE! LIVE THREAD! LIVE! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I just went on a Firefly binge. And now, thanks to Phoebe’s unoriginal naming and the ignorance of the rest of us, THAT NAME has become inextricably linked with the unpleasant, swordfighting dandy of the TV show and the noble, vanished king of the RRR.
The end result of all this is that, whenever I read the name “Atherton Wing,” I feel like my brain has been dropped into a blender.
I’m gonna try going through what we have so far, just so I can get my thoughts together. I’m DETERMINED! This WILL work!
——————————————————————-
Despite the cold wind whipping through Emburr’s fur, he was soaking with sweat as he furiously pumped the handle of the acro-handcar. The syrupy, blue-black waters of the Szarken Strait heaved sluggishly below him. The air was full of the sounds of thrashing waves, shouted incantations and gasps of pain. A bolt of yellow light sizzled past his head, singeing the delicate tufts on his small, rounded ears. His vehicle quaked in terror. “Easy, girl,†he whispered. “Only a little farther to go.â€
A howling drikk dove out of the violet sun, its four leathery wings blurring as it lunged at him. There was no time to perform an enchantment: Emburr simply leaped off and plunged into the ocean.
Above him, he heard a scream of gears as the acro-handcar was torn apart, and winced. But his own problem was more pressing. Though Fenkins like himself were not bothered by cold, their thick fur quickly became waterlogged and dragged them to the bottom.
He spat out seven words. A disc of ice formed below his feet and buoyed him up. He leaped the final five feet to shore, dodging magipult pebbles all the way to the narrow cave entrance.
The security field hummed as he passed through it, recognizing him as an ally. Emburr immediately snapped to attention, holding his left paw at snout level in the traditional salute of military Fenkins.
Major-General Heggs looked up from the chart he was poring over. “Report, du Kendomalin. How goes it?â€
“All skrelched up- pardon my Lillix, sir. They’re still holding Terrafieg, and we haven’t made any progress, sir.â€
“I thought we mobilized the acrotrains, du Kendomalin.â€
“We did, sir.â€
“Then how- â€
“They were downed, sir. All of them. More combat-trained drikks than I’ve ever seen in my life, sir.â€
Heggs bit his lip. “How in the name of Imaganruis did the Usurpers manage to tame those animals?â€
“Cruelty, sir. Same way they do everything.â€
“You’re probably right, Kendomalin. How many survivors?â€
“One, sir. Me, sir. Though I didn’t see the Phlejm being taken out- it may still be fighting, sir.â€
“Qaadrekth! We’re losing too many, too fast. We’ll have to retreat. Give the order, Spui.â€
A wooly-furred Xixin from the southern steppes relayed the command through his omnilinguic. Emburr clenched his fists, then dropped to all fours and lolloped at speed through an exit tunnel, vanishing into the darkness.
This is good. Definately! I suppose we can hook this up further in the story with further contact with Emburr, Elanor/Lance running into loosing battles, pretty much a lost cause, etc. etc. Maybe we can work at getting them new allies in this book? It looks like they could use them.
ONE WEEK LATER
Elanor awoke to the harsh, trilling sound of woonkledevver Whoever thought up that name is a genius. calls filtering up through the rainforest canopy hundreds of feet below. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and blearily looked at the aeroak-and-brass clock that hovered silently beside her bed.
Six-thirty. Elanor stepped out of the bed, stretched, and proceeded to the closet, which slid open to admit her. She looked with amusement at the small, rather faded set of clothes that lay folded on the top shelf. She’d worn them on her first harrowing day in Etheterre- the first day she’d known who her father really was, why he’d been killed, and why the same people who had done the deed were now after her. They brought back several good memories and quite a few awful ones. But today, twenty months afterward, they looked rather childish.
Elanor selected a pair of comfortable, rugged pants made from rendu fiber, an old blue blouse that had once belonged to her mother and that she particularly liked, and after a moment’s consideration, a pair of somewhat extravagant boots.
When she finished dressing, the only clue to her position as heir to the Etheterran throne was the scapulae biblia, a leather belt inlaid with semiprecious stones and supporting a small, rectangular sheath on the left hip. The sheath contained a pocket-size black book which looked quite ordinary most of the time.
Elanor considered her reflection in the mirror that obligingly appeared on the closet door. Her hair was stubbornly remaining an unevenly mottled mass of golden-brown, but she’d managed to get it under a semblance of control by fastening it into a braid. Her face was still very much the round-chinned Wing physiognomy, although the chubby childishness had vanished from it. It was in those two respects that she most resembled her father. The rest of her appearance- the expressive brows, the long nose, the grey eyes- came from her mother.
Elanor turned away, the mirror vanishing as she did so, and stepped up on her bed. The springs creaked as she leaned over and unfastened the window’s clasp.
The panes of Evencald crystal retracted into the sill with a soft sigh, and Elanor launched herself out.
She dropped past the white stones of the tower, skimmed the solid buttresses of Xorotlaltec City’s walls, and plummeted down through layers of mist. Sheer cliffs of barren rock rose up to meet her, but she avoided every sharp crag and treacherous precipice, plunging rapidly toward the varied canopy of the vast Nozama rainforest.
Elanor pulled up at the last moment and hung in midair, barely ten feet above the treetops. She concentrated on keeping herself absolutely still. Although she’d almost completely mastered flying (and gotten used to the concept some time later), she still found it hard to hover without drifting slightly.
Speed, now- that was no problem. A quick hundred-eighty-degree turn, a kick of her heels, and Elanor was soaring back up the mountainside.
A few minutes later, she walked into the dining hall, flushed from the thrill of flying – it hadn’t ceased to thrill her in the past two years – and slightly damp from the mist. She spied Lance sitting at a table, moodily staring at his breakfast, and she went over and plopped down on the seat beside him.
Since that fateful battle she had tended to treat him gently, though never so gently that he would notice, but she had not told him what she knew, and he had never told her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but sometimes she thought he would be a great deal happier if he didn’t keep it such a secret.
“Hi, Lance,†she said cheerily, helping herself to a piece of orange and purple fruit from a bowl in the middle of the table. She looked at it contemplatively.
“Hello,†said Lance. He smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.
Elanor stuck the fruit under his nose. “What’s this called again?â€
He looked at it. “Can’t remember.â€
Elanor bit into it. It was very good. It tasted like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, and it fizzed pleasantly.
After polishing off two more of the fruits and a cereal that defied description, Elanor pushed back her chair and exited the dining hall, leaving Lance picking halfheartedly at his food.
She wandered restlessly through the now-familiar corridors of the fortress, hardly giving a thought to the bizarre architecture. I’m going stir-crazy from being cooped up here. I’m the only one capable of beating an Usurper, and yet they hardly let me past the city gates. I wish Emburr was back- he’s the only one who sees that it’s nonsense. Up to here. It sounds good. As I recall. Its after this that things start getting a little confusing
A large Xixin bumbled past her, bearing a tray with a silver servegelle urn on it. For lack of anything better to do, Elanor followed him, hovering slightly off the floor in order to make as little sound as possible.
The creature reached a thick, circular door which creaked open immediately. Inside, various beings- mostly humans and Xixins, but with a few Fenkins and at least one Capenlent- were hunched over a map.
“And on the subject of the Speheivic Islands,†a short, wiry human with violent orange hair said, “our campaigns have been extremely successful. We’ve driven them back from the Ergbin Strait almost to the Khotsku Peninsula, and construction of defensive forts on Hjuan-ki is progressing well.â€
“I wish I could come with news as good,†a purple-furred Fenkin sighed. “Our forces were decimated off Terrafieg. They had over fifty light-combat drikks- †this was followed by a collective gasp- “and at least two gloonshin, Acropons riding all of them.â€
“Acropons?†the Capenlent asked worriedly. “This implies that Selvana is giving Hiskar substantial aid- oh, thank you, Tuggle…â€
The serving Xixin had just set the urn down on the table. It was now handing out small plates.
A flock of servegelles popped out of the urn, wobbling gelatinously across the table. Each one made for a particular plate. Once they reached their destinations, the servegelles took on a more liquid aspect, various foods congealing out of their glutinous depths.
Elanor looked at them, faintly nauseated. After nearly two years in Etheterre, she hadn’t gotten used to servegelles. Intinier had assured her that they were perfectly hygienic, but even so, Elanor preferred to arrive to dinner at least two minutes late, at which time the urns would have been taken away.
As the council-members’ breakfast fully materialized, the servegelles plopped off their respective plates and wobbled back into their urn.
The Capenlent looked up, and Elanor recognized her as Intinier. The glowing orange face broke into a smile. “Elanor! Come in, please.â€
Elanor joined them. She was always eager to learn as much as she could about strategy, tactics and the latest developments in the war with the Usurpers, as she couldn’t get information firsthand.
There were no chairs available, and one of the councillors moved as if to conjure one from the floor. But the young Wing simply floated two feet into the air, then sat down cross-legged, still hovering. “You were saying?â€
The Fenkin continued. “General Heggs and General Fbui are retreating across no-being’s-land as of their last report, with what remains of the 137th and 138th cohorts.â€
“The 138th!†Elanor exclaimed. “Emburr’s down there!â€
“I hope he’s all right… †Intinier said worriedly.
The Fenkin coughed, staring disapprovingly at Elanor through his thick spectacles. “Terrafieg is completely under Usurper command as of now. The Acropons sighted by Fbui’s scouts confirm that the Usurpers are working together to a degree not previously seen. We can only conclude that their leader is taking more active control of their movements. In other words, he sees us as a threat worthy of his personal notice… OK. So, I see nothing wrong with this part. It’s actually quite helpful. Tiggle, this is an extremely important meeting. We can’t be interrupted by spherophone calls.â€
“I’fi inkolit spepo grnk,†the Xixin, who had just entered, said courteously. “‘Fi dindel Kendomalin. ‘Fi grnk Carushaluk.â€
Intinier snatched the wooden sphere from its resting place in the silver eggcup that Tiggle bore. “Hello?â€
To Elanor’s enormous surprise and relief, a voice emanated from the ball- staticky and unclear, but recognizably Emburr’s. “Intinier, that you? If it is, talk fast- I had to bribe three people to get a five-minute personal call on the portable.â€
“Yes, yes, it is- heavens without, I thought you were dead!â€
“No, I’m fine- couple of ribs broken, but other than that, peachy. Listen, Heggs was going to notify you once we reached Fort Roconi, but I figured you’d like to know in advance- We picked up a Capenlent on the way over. Found him in no-being’s-land, on his last legs- he’s the main reason the medicomages haven’t gotten around to fixing up my ribs yet. Anyhow, his name’s Fentinor, and he says he’s your brother.†OK. Um. I don’t think this is logical. 1. He’s running for his life most likely from enemy troops or something like that 2. Why would he call to tell Itenier that when he needs to tell about his army’s bad circumstances? 3. I don’t like the brother thing. It’s confusing. Of course, I think yall already talked about this. So, nevermind. Just putting it all out there.
But Emburr might as well have hung up halfway through his last sentence, for at the word “Fentinor,†Intinier’s luminous skin flared brighter than a lightbulb filament, then dulled to a faint coral radiance as she collapsed into her chair. The spherophone rolled away across the tiled floor. “Hello? Hello? Oh, qaadrekth… Grip! You owe me five… †The rest was cut off with a buzz and a click.
Elanor jumped down from her perch in the air. Intinier was reviving, her skin flickering faintly and her hair waving lethargically. “Are you okay?†Elanor asked.
“I’m . . .fine,†whispered Intinier faintly. “But Fentinor . . . !â€
“Who is Fentinor?â€
“My brother,†said Intinier, still flickering. “He disappeared into the Itlintanpok Ocean – the Atlantic in Reality,†she added, “When we were just coming to Kolombent. I thought he was long dead. How could this have happened?â€
“Well,†said Elanor cheerily, “he’s not dead. That’s nice. Right?â€
But Intinier was still asking herself the same question, “How could this have happened? It’s not possible. He’s dead. It was the black water. I barely survived the toxins, and I was in much better shape. How in the name of Imaganrius did he survive?â€
Elanor was about to use her Reality response of “Magic?†when she realized that magic existed in Etheterre. Even two years later, when she had even been practicing magic, she forgot about small things like this. “Magic?†was the response she had often used with her eccentric fencing coach. He was always talking about the impossible things happening everywhere – from his drive to work to things happening in Kosovo’s politics. yeah. This is in the middle of a meeting discussing battle strategy. I already discussed this. So nevermind again
The rest of the people in the room had left, except for the Fenkin that had given the update. After what felt like ages to the others, Intinier stood up from her chair, suddenly glowing brightly. “The Fenelknus saved Fentinor’s life.â€
“The portal creature?†said the Fenkin doubtfully. “I don’t think so. Nothing has been heard of the Fenelknus for 2 thousand years.â€
“Why do you think they call it the portal creature?†persisted Intinier. “It sensed the danger that was to come, and it went to Reality. It came back only to save Fentinor. I’m sure of it.â€
Elanor frowned thoughtfully. “What’s the Fenelknus?†she asked.
“It’s a creature that can travel between Reality and Etheterre, at any place. There’s only one of it, and it’s amazingly magical.â€
“And it saved Fentinor?â€
“I’m sure it did.â€
“But why?†asked Elanor. “if it was hiding out in Reality, why would it come back to rescue one person who fell into the sea? Surely hundreds of people have fallen into the sea. Did it rescue all of them?â€
“The Fenelknus can see the future,†said Intinier. “Maybe it saw that Fentinor did something important in the future, so it rescued him.â€
Elanor had to admit that it was possible. Most everything was possible in Etheterre.
“It must have known that he would have an important part to play in the future,†Intinier said doubtfully. Erm.
Elanor snorted. “There has to be some other explanation.â€
“There can’t be. The ocean around Tsinglonk is runoff from the salt deserts- hot as the pit, and deadly poisonous. It seeps in through your pores. Crystal divers have to wear special suits if they’re going to be in it for more than twenty seconds, and even those corrode.â€
Elanor thought about this conversation. After living in Etheterre for 2 years, she should have learned that anything was possible in this world. But something was nagging her about this creature. It didn’t seem right. It was like the battle of two consciences. One conscience said it was impossible for this creature to be in existence – and even if it did exist, there was no way that it would come just to rescue some random Capenlent. The other conscience said that it was entirely possible for Fentinor to be an important part in the Revolution. This “Fenelknus†sounded just like something that would exist in Etheterre. Intinier was smart – it sounded like the perfect story. The other conscience argued – Intinier was also persuasive, and a friend to top that. Elanor probably just wanted to believe it. I don’t think we were going to use this anyway. So… yeah.
“If we may return to the subject?†said the Fenkin, glowering.
“I believe that since the Usurper is beginning to directly control the actions of his subordinates, our attritional campaigns will no longer work. We should concentrate on forcing Hiskar’s armies out of Terrafieg, and then fortify our borders until a further course of action can be decided upon.â€
“Are you suggesting that we should abandon Hjuan-ki?†the human fumed. “We can’t do that now! The Usurper is practically within our grasp! Once we penetrate the Zhouhydern Range, we’ll have direct access to his fortress!â€
“That’s all very well, but we simply don’t have the power necessary to get through the mountains and still confront him at the end of the journey! In case you’ve forgotten, my learned colleague, he’s practically invulnerable and the only known Arkael mage to boot!â€
“Arkaels are an outdated superstition!†The human prodded his opponent’s furry chest.
“Then how do you explain- †The Fenkin stuttered to a stop, as though teetering on the brink of saying something he knew he shouldn’t have said.
“How do you explain what? What your friend can do? Did you see him set fire to the elixir that he invented, eh?â€
The Fenkin was red by nature, but he seemed to turn even redder as he yelled at the human. “You have absolutely no right to insult the Arkael oath! If you believe they don’t exist, fine, but respect my battle plans!†He seemed to calm down after the human said nothing. “Out of Terrafieg. I promise you will not regret it.â€
“Very well,†the other said. “I’ll inform the rest of the Regency Council, but I can’t promise anything.â€
The fenkin, who really does have a name and may earn a larger role later even though that’s the last thing the story needs, was clearly pleased. “All right then,†he said, “I suppose that now we should address the position of the remaining Resistance armies.â€
“And which armies would those be?†The human raised an eyebrow. “You’re not talking about our reserve troops, are you?â€
“Oh no.†The fenkin smiled. “I have something bigger in mind.â€
Like what? This sounds good. Elaborate we must! Perhaps the work of an ambassador? Like Emburr? Who has just survived the battle? Perhaps? T’would be a good opportunity to get into his character!
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away… Interesting dream. The problem is sticking it in somewhere.
With a gasp, Lance sat up in bed. His hair stuck to the sides of his drenched face in complete disarray and his hands shook as if on their own accord. With a shudder, he stumbled out of bed and into a small bathroom. Lance was relieved to wash the sweat away from his face. For a moment, he paused at a mirror. He had changed a lot in the past months. The angle of his face appeared more drawn and his eyes seemed to give a haunted reflection of his experiences. Were we not going to put this in there? I think before we said that we didn’t want anyone to know that the dream was Lance’s. Though I don’t know what any readers will think with just a random dream in there with no explanation. Or even if its a dream in the first place. And now I just confused myself. My bad.
Elanor poured herself some tea and grabbed a doughnut-like pastry from a tray in the corner of the dining room. Just as she was biting into the deep-fried crust to get to the pure fruit she knew was inside, she heard someone in the corner say, “Don’t eat the m’ahles. They’re not good for you.â€
“What are you talking about, Lance? I’ve been eating these for breakfast every day for months! So long as I stay away from the fenai’ak ones, they’re perfectly healthy. All the chefs say so.â€
“They’re not good for you. Royalty can be killed by eating too much fruit.†You have no idea how much I dislike the “fruit is poisonous to royalty” thing. It’s just TOO random. Even for a crazy person. Crazy people are wacko but they’re not random like that usually. Those are people on drugs.
“Then why haven’t you stopped me before now, huh?â€
The black-haired young man just looked down. “I… didn’t know until now. Sorry.â€
“Great,†said Elanor gloomily. “No fruit.†She glanced down at the Codex. Shouldn’t it warn her if her life was in danger? She knew it would protect her from immediate danger, most of the time at least, but did fruit overdose count as immediate danger?
She got up from the table. “I’m going to go see Intinier,†she told Lance. “Do know where she is?â€
“No. She hasn’t come down.â€
“So you’re stalking us all now? Lovely. Well, thanks anyway.†That doesn’t sound very Elanorish. And I think I’ve turned this into an editing thing instead of a brainstorming thing and ooooooo *is distracted* oops. sorry. Elanor sighed and walked back to her room, where she could easily find the Capenlent.
Elanor hurried along until she reached a familiar door. As she stepped into the room behind the door, Elanor spotted a restful form huddled under a thin sheet.
“Itineir!†she cried, dismayed.
Slowly, the phagomage lifted the covers from her head. “Elanor, couldn’t you wait a few more hours? No? I suppose not.†With a deep sigh, she sat up in bed. “OK OK†she relented. “I suppose you want to discuss what went on at the counsel meeting yesterday?â€
If we take out everything we decided to take out, we have this:
Despite the cold wind whipping through Emburr’s fur, he was soaking with sweat as he furiously pumped the handle of the acro-handcar. The syrupy, blue-black waters of the Szarken Strait heaved sluggishly below him. The air was full of the sounds of thrashing waves, shouted incantations and gasps of pain. A bolt of yellow light sizzled past his head, singeing the delicate tufts on his small, rounded ears. His vehicle quaked in terror. “Easy, girl,†he whispered. “Only a little farther to go.â€
A howling drikk dove out of the violet sun, its four leathery wings blurring as it lunged at him. There was no time to perform an enchantment: Emburr simply leaped off and plunged into the ocean.
Above him, he heard a scream of gears as the acro-handcar was torn apart, and winced. But his own problem was more pressing. Though Fenkins like himself were not bothered by cold, their thick fur quickly became waterlogged and dragged them to the bottom.
He spat out seven words. A disc of ice formed below his feet and buoyed him up. He leaped the final five feet to shore, dodging magipult pebbles all the way to the narrow cave entrance.
The security field hummed as he passed through it, recognizing him as an ally. Emburr immediately snapped to attention, holding his left paw at snout level in the traditional salute of military Fenkins.
Major-General Heggs looked up from the chart he was poring over. “Report, du Kendomalin. How goes it?â€
“All skrelched up- pardon my Lillix, sir. They’re still holding Terrafieg, and we haven’t made any progress, sir.â€
“I thought we mobilized the acrotrains, du Kendomalin.â€
“We did, sir.â€
“Then how- â€
“They were downed, sir. All of them. More combat-trained drikks than I’ve ever seen in my life, sir.â€
Heggs bit his lip. “How in the name of Imaganruis did the Usurpers manage to tame those animals?â€
“Cruelty, sir. Same way they do everything.â€
“You’re probably right, Kendomalin. How many survivors?â€
“One, sir. Me, sir. Though I didn’t see the Phlejm being taken out- it may still be fighting, sir.â€
“Qaadrekth! We’re losing too many, too fast. We’ll have to retreat. Give the order, Spui.â€
A wooly-furred Xixin from the southern steppes relayed the command through his omnilinguic. Emburr clenched his fists, then dropped to all fours and lolloped at speed through an exit tunnel, vanishing into the darkness.
ONE WEEK LATER
Elanor awoke to the harsh, trilling sound of woonkledevver calls filtering up through the rainforest canopy hundreds of feet below. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and blearily looked at the aeroak-and-brass clock that hovered silently beside her bed.
Six-thirty. Elanor stepped out of the bed, stretched, and proceeded to the closet, which slid open to admit her. She looked with amusement at the small, rather faded set of clothes that lay folded on the top shelf. She’d worn them on her first harrowing day in Etheterre- the first day she’d known who her father really was, why he’d been killed, and why the same people who had done the deed were now after her. They brought back several good memories and quite a few awful ones. But today, twenty months afterward, they looked rather childish.
Elanor selected a pair of comfortable, rugged pants made from rendu fiber, an old blue blouse that had once belonged to her mother and that she particularly liked, and after a moment’s consideration, a pair of somewhat extravagant boots.
When she finished dressing, the only clue to her position as heir to the Etheterran throne was the scapulae biblia, a leather belt inlaid with semiprecious stones and supporting a small, rectangular sheath on the left hip. The sheath contained a pocket-size black book which looked quite ordinary most of the time.
Elanor considered her reflection in the mirror that obligingly appeared on the closet door. Her hair was stubbornly remaining an unevenly mottled mass of golden-brown, but she’d managed to get it under a semblance of control by fastening it into a braid. Her face was still very much the round-chinned Wing physiognomy, although the chubby childishness had vanished from it. It was in those two respects that she most resembled her father. The rest of her appearance- the expressive brows, the long nose, the grey eyes- came from her mother.
Elanor turned away, the mirror vanishing as she did so, and stepped up on her bed. The springs creaked as she leaned over and unfastened the window’s clasp.
The panes of Evencald crystal retracted into the sill with a soft sigh, and Elanor launched herself out.
She dropped past the white stones of the tower, skimmed the solid buttresses of Xorotlaltec City’s walls, and plummeted down through layers of mist. Sheer cliffs of barren rock rose up to meet her, but she avoided every sharp crag and treacherous precipice, plunging rapidly toward the varied canopy of the vast Nozama rainforest.
Elanor pulled up at the last moment and hung in midair, barely ten feet above the treetops. She concentrated on keeping herself absolutely still. Although she’d almost completely mastered flying (and gotten used to the concept some time later), she still found it hard to hover without drifting slightly.
Speed, now- that was no problem. A quick hundred-eighty-degree turn, a kick of her heels, and Elanor was soaring back up the mountainside.
A few minutes later, she walked into the dining hall, flushed from the thrill of flying – it hadn’t ceased to thrill her in the past two years – and slightly damp from the mist. She spied Lance sitting at a table, moodily staring at his breakfast, and she went over and plopped down on the seat beside him.
Since that fateful battle she had tended to treat him gently, though never so gently that he would notice, but she had not told him what she knew, and he had never told her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but sometimes she thought he would be a great deal happier if he didn’t keep it such a secret.
“Hi, Lance,†she said cheerily, helping herself to a piece of orange and purple fruit from a bowl in the middle of the table. She looked at it contemplatively.
“Hello,†said Lance. He smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.
Elanor stuck the fruit under his nose. “What’s this called again?â€
He looked at it. “Can’t remember.â€
Elanor bit into it. It was very good. It tasted like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, and it fizzed pleasantly.
After polishing off two more of the fruits and a cereal that defied description, Elanor pushed back her chair and exited the dining hall, leaving Lance picking halfheartedly at his food.
Elanor poured herself some tea and grabbed a doughnut-like pastry from a tray in the corner of the dining room. Just as she was biting into the deep-fried crust to get to the pure fruit she knew was inside, she heard someone in the corner say, “Don’t eat the m’ahles. They’re not good for you.â€
“What are you talking about, Lance? I’ve been eating these for breakfast every day for months! So long as I stay away from the fenai’ak ones, they’re perfectly healthy. All the chefs say so.â€
“They’re not good for you. Royalty can be killed by eating too much fruit.â€
“Then why haven’t you stopped me before now, huh?â€
The black-haired young man just looked down. “I… didn’t know until now. Sorry.â€
“Great,†said Elanor gloomily. “No fruit.†She glanced down at the Codex. Shouldn’t it warn her if her life was in danger? She knew it would protect her from immediate danger, most of the time at least, but did fruit overdose count as immediate danger?
She got up from the table. “I’m going to go see Intinier,†she told Lance. “Do know where she is?â€
“No. She hasn’t come down.â€
“So you’re stalking us all now? Lovely. Well, thanks anyway.†Elanor sighed and walked back to her room, where she could easily find the Capenlent.
Elanor hurried along until she reached a familiar door. As she stepped into the room behind the door, Elanor spotted a restful form huddled under a thin sheet.
“Itineir!†she cried, dismayed.
Slowly, the phagomage lifted the covers from her head. “Elanor, couldn’t you wait a few more hours? No? I suppose not.†With a deep sigh, she sat up in bed. “OK OK†she relented. “I suppose you want to discuss what went on at the counsel meeting yesterday?â€
And then somewhere in this mess we have this:
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away…
——————————————-
OKey dokey!
Well, I think that the meeting is a good idea. Just not the weird Itenier brother stuff.
I’m actually veering toward Lance being very depressed, but not crazy. Crazy is a little overboard and I just couldn’t see Lance that way, much less write him like that.
I like the idea of Lance going off to “find answers” or whatever and Elanor following him. Of course, people would try to find her from both sides. That would be fun. Elanor Avoiding assassins from the evil peoples and well-meaning people from the good peoples. Nice. And then maybe Emburr going on a mission of some sorts to get more allies. And maybe Itenier could tag along. And question is, how to transition into this!
Ummmmmmm. Well, like I said, I liked the counsel meeting. If we kept some parts of that, then maybe at the end, when that dude says “I had something bigger in mind” or whatever he said, Emburr could make a big entrance. w00t. Big entrances are nice.
We could skip the whole awkward breakfast/no fruit thing with Lance and go to his dream. And him waking up and feeling depressed or something along those lines.
Maybe he’s being left alone more then usual due to his depression. And he decides to see answers or something like that. Maybe even attempt to pay a visite to out of the head evil dudes whose name I can’t recall. And Elanor finds out before hand, tries to follow him and he tries to use force to get her to stay, and she follows behind him anyway.
Then, we can go back and forth between Lance and his troubles, Elanor following behind him and dodging both well and ill meaning rescuers/assasins/whoever, and Emburr & Itenier at the secret allie obtaining mission.
And then we can go from there. What say yall?
I thought up the name woonkledevver. Thanks, Kiwi.
249- YAYYYYYYYY FIREFLY!
250- -pouts- But I like insanity. It’s fun.
OK, I’m being unhelpful. How about I come back when I’ve eaten something and basked in the sunshine and feel a little less like screaming at you all for no apparent reason.
Actually it is an apparent reason…just not a logical one.
‘Bye!
OK, I’m better now. It wasn’t personal, but my teenage mood swings and my hunger were combining to make the temptation to blow up in people’s faces and then go into hysterics very strong. Which is unpleasant to say the least, but I assuaged my hunger with peanut-butter sandwiches and now I’m (almost) fine. I’m still not too keen on the idea of going to school tomorrow, but that’s beside the point.
250- I think Lance should go crazy, and I think that we should let the dream stand on its own and explain later. I’m fine with keeping the meeting though.
OK. I’m gonna post an idea of the story so far and then add some to it. I guess.
——————————————————————
A few minutes later, she walked into the dining hall, flushed from the thrill of flying – it hadn’t ceased to thrill her in the past two years – and slightly damp from the mist. She spied Lance sitting at a table, moodily staring at his breakfast, and she went over and plopped down on the seat beside him.
Since that fateful battle she had tended to treat him gently, though never so gently that he would notice, but she had not told him what she knew, and he had never told her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but sometimes she thought he would be a great deal happier if he didn’t keep it such a secret.
“Hi, Lance,†she said cheerily, helping herself to a piece of orange and purple fruit from a bowl in the middle of the table. She looked at it contemplatively.
“Hello,†said Lance. He smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it.
Elanor stuck the fruit under his nose. “What’s this called again?â€
He looked at it. “Can’t remember.â€
Elanor bit into it. It was very good. It tasted like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, and it fizzed pleasantly.
After polishing off two more of the fruits and a cereal that defied description, Elanor pushed back her chair and exited the dining hall, leaving Lance picking halfheartedly at his food.
She wandered restlessly through the now-familiar corridors of the fortress, hardly giving a thought to the bizarre architecture. “I’m going stir-crazy from being cooped up here. I’m the only one capable of beating an Usurper, and yet they hardly let me past the city gates. I wish Emburr was back- he’s the only one who sees that it’s nonsense.” she thought wistfully.
A Xinxin beside her suddenly startled her out of her reverie. Motioning for her to follow it, the Xinxin floated down the hall and Elanor stepped after it curiously. As it reached a thick, circular door ,which creaked open immediately, the inside was revealed, showing various beings- mostly humans and Xixins, but with a few Fenkins and at least one Capenlent- were hunched over a map.
“And on the subject of the Speheivic Islands,†a short, wiry human with violent orange hair said, “our campaigns have been extremely successful. We’ve driven them back from the Ergbin Strait almost to the Khotsku Peninsula, and construction of defensive forts on Hjuan-ki is progressing well.â€
“I wish I could come with news as good,†a purple-furred Fenkin sighed. “Our forces were decimated off Terrafieg. They had over fifty light-combat drikks- †this was followed by a collective gasp- “and at least two gloonshin, Acropons riding all of them.â€
“Acropons?†the Capenlent asked worriedly. “This implies that Selvana is giving Hiskar substantial aid- oh, thank you, Tuggle…â€
The serving Xixin had just set the urn down on the table. It was now handing out small plates.
A flock of servegelles popped out of the urn, wobbling gelatinously across the table. Each one made for a particular plate. Once they reached their destinations, the servegelles took on a more liquid aspect, various foods congealing out of their glutinous depths.
Elanor looked at them, faintly nauseated. After nearly two years in Etheterre, she hadn’t gotten used to servegelles. Intinier had assured her that they were perfectly hygienic, but even so, Elanor preferred to arrive to dinner at least two minutes late, at which time the urns would have been taken away.
As the council-members’ breakfast fully materialized, the servegelles plopped off their respective plates and wobbled back into their urn.
The Capenlent looked up, and Elanor recognized her as Intinier. The glowing orange face broke into a smile. “Elanor! Come in, please.â€
Elanor joined them. She was always eager to learn as much as she could about strategy, tactics and the latest developments in the war with the Usurpers, as she couldn’t get information firsthand.
There were no chairs available, and one of the councillors moved as if to conjure one from the floor. But the young Wing simply floated two feet into the air, then sat down cross-legged, still hovering. “You were saying?â€
The Fenkin continued. “General Heggs and General Fbui are retreating across no-being’s-land as of their last report, with what remains of the 137th and 138th cohorts.â€
“The 138th!†Elanor exclaimed. “Emburr’s down there!â€
“I hope he’s all right… †Intinier said worriedly.
The Fenkin coughed, staring disapprovingly at Elanor through his thick spectacles. “Terrafieg is completely under Usurper command as of now. The Acropons sighted by Fbui’s scouts confirm that the Usurpers are working together to a degree not previously seen. We can only conclude that their leader is taking more active control of their movements. In other words, he sees us as a threat worthy of his personal notice.”
“Unfortunately, I believe that since the Usurper is beginning to directly control the actions of his subordinates, our attritional campaigns will no longer work. We should concentrate on forcing Hiskar’s armies out of Terrafieg, and then fortify our borders until a further course of action can be decided upon.â€
“Are you suggesting that we should abandon Hjuan-ki?†the human fumed. “We can’t do that now! The Usurper is practically within our grasp! Once we penetrate the Zhouhydern Range, we’ll have direct access to his fortress!â€
“That’s all very well, but we simply don’t have the power necessary to get through the mountains and still confront him at the end of the journey! In case you’ve forgotten, my learned colleague, he’s practically invulnerable and the only known Arkael mage to boot!â€
“Arkaels are an outdated superstition!†The human prodded his opponent’s furry chest.
“Then how do you explain- †The Fenkin stuttered to a stop, as though teetering on the brink of saying something he knew he shouldn’t have said.
“How do you explain what? What your friend can do? Did you see him set fire to the elixir that he invented, eh?â€
The Fenkin was red by nature, but he seemed to turn even redder as he yelled at the human. “You have absolutely no right to insult the Arkael oath! If you believe they don’t exist, fine, but respect my battle plans!†He seemed to calm down after the human said nothing. “Out of Terrafieg. I promise you will not regret it.â€
“Very well,†the other said. “I’ll inform the rest of the Regency Council, but I can’t promise anything.â€
The fenkin, who really does have a name and may earn a larger role later even though that’s the last thing the story needs, was clearly pleased. “All right then,†he said, “I suppose that now we should address the position of the remaining Resistance armies.â€
“And which armies would those be?†The human raised an eyebrow. “You’re not talking about our reserve troops, are you?â€
“Oh no.†The fenkin smiled. “I have something bigger in mind.â€
With an unexpected clang, the door to the conference room blew open with a clang. In the doorway stood an amazingly familiar fenkin.
“Emburr!” Elanor cried, dropping out of the air and colliding into a furry hug. In the back of the room, the commanding fenkin met the disbelieving look of the human with a grin.
Under a black ocean, something glinted silver. It flickered faintly, moving closer. As it neared, a turtle swam in front of it, blocking the light. When it swam away, the light was gone, and the water turned gold.
The water was pleasantly warm and soothing. He was content to drift languidly through the ancient sea, leaving his memories, his cares, his inexpressible pain behind…
The ocean grew hotter. He tried to swim, but his limbs were limp and heavy as saturated rope, and now there was no surface, just a universe of golden water that seethed and burned, crisping his flesh away…
OK. I have no idea what to do after this dream. I guess if we’re going to explain later then….. How…. Arg. I don’t know what do with it. But I think this is as good a place as any to put it.
OK. I feel like I went nowhere. except with the emburr twist. That was nice. I think. Unless yall don’t think so.
I watn to do soemthing. But I don’t know what to do with this dream. It’s like, I’m jumpy. So, we don’t want the dreamer revealed…. but we also have to let any reader know what’s going on. So do we want to have the sleeper wake up and just not say his name?
——————————————————————————–
The dream ended violently, just as it had for the past month. Every night was the same. The bed was an utter mess, the sheets tangled uselessly and the area covered in sweat. Night after night, he endured the same torturous images with no respite.
And…. arg. I must leave. Au revoir.
With a soft moan, he dragged himself off the bed and limped into his bathroom. The dim lighting cast his shadow lightly on the white, stone floor and he leaned away from it, into the mirror. His reflection reminded him of his life for the past months: miserable, exhausting, shameful, and, most of all, painful. The pain resonated off of the walls of this place, showed on the faces of those he held most dear, and even haunted him into his dreams. No, not dreams, nightmares.
People?! HELLO?! Please say something! I’m drowning here!
Sorry, chaps. My spirit was sort of crushed when I realized how much of a Mary Sue I’d made our beloved heroine, and I couldn’t bear to come back.
*sigh*
Anyway, Kiwi, I appreciate your valiant efforts, but sadly I cannot bear to look this story in the face. If I had my way, I’d go for a complete rewrite the way we’re doing (with varying success) with Terraformed. However, I’m likely to be in the barest minority here.
259- Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
With any other story, I’d jump at the chance to rewrite completely, but I die inside when I think of rewriting this one.
So do I, but it’s better to die writing than live sobbing and drooling on the keyboard.
The Internet balrogs ate my comment. It read as follows.
So do I, but it’s better to die writing than live sobbing and drooling on the keyboard.
Drat, the balrogs fooled me.
Anyway, I think rewriting will be a painful process. Tears will be shed, blood will be spilled, and unhealthy amounts of chocolate will be consumed, but the story will emerge better.
Honestly? I think the first draft of almost any RRR will be fairly awful. But it’s a necessary step. It weeds out the uncommitted*. Those who emerge are the truly dedicated ones, the writers who have stuck with the story through thick and thin, forged in the fires of burning inspiration, cooled in the icy waters of septuple-post despair. It is they who will craft anew the…
OK, that got out of hand, didn’t it? I’ve been watching the 9 trailer, and it may have affected my mental state slightly. Also, I just inhaled a root beer float. Forgive me.
*I know this has applied to me on more than one RRR. Just because you have the disease doesn’t mean you can’t recognize the symptoms.
Quite so.
So, are you reluctantly in favor of the rewrite, or against it?
I suppose I’m reluctantly in favor. I don’t know. I’ll stick around, but Etheterre was never my story. Not like Terraformed or the Sea Roc.
I might be more enthusiastic tomorrow, or the day after, or in a week or two. Whenever I get used to the Doctor’s new companion.
This is a bit pathetic, isn’t it?
OK, I’ll get Kiwi’s opinion, and then we’ll set out.
In the meantime, brainstorming. I think the vital thing to preserve is the dynamic between the four main characters… Emburr, Intinier, Lance and Elanor. However, in my opinion, it would be a lot more interesting if there was some sort of conflict within the group. Suggestions?
Conflicts like one of them not liking the other? Or…erm. Lance going crazy? Or maybe a mix of both? Or….. what d you mean?
Well, they all seem good-natured and pleasant to one another throughout the adventure. This is an ideal situation for them, but not so much for dramatic tension.
Lance needs to be developed more, earlier. I think we should make him a generally nice and pleasant guy, but with creepy aspects, in order to foreshadow.
Intinier… we could keep the same without much trouble. A motherly, courageous person trying to overcome the various tragedies of her past.
Emburr needs some work. I think the easiest way to introduce conflict would be to have him as a foil for Intinier. He’s a war veteran. She’s a chef. As such, his magic and methods are going to be a bit more brutal and efficient than hers. Even though they share the same goals, they disagree over the way to accomplish them. We’ve got to keep his sense of humor (that’s integral) but I suggest making it a bit darker and more morbid.
Elanor’s a whole different problem. We’ll cover her later.
Yeah, I see what you mean. Emburr is really the best candidate for disorder in the group. And Elanor…. yeah. She needs a flaw. Seriously.
Firetruck!
You don’t know who I am. Right? Right?
I don’t recognize the name… are you THF?
Sorry, what is “firetruck?”
Oh. Now I get it. Sorry. But I still don’t know who you are.
Good. You’re not supposed to.
Well, you seem familiar with this story, so that leaves Kiwimuncher, THF, or Alice.
Don’t worry, I don’t frequent the alter ego thread.
Twas me. Hence the “cheez” reference.
Yes! I’m most definitely in favor! Let’s do it! *puts on brave ace*
Oh. *sob* Alas.
Elanor… where do we start? Well, I’ll list the factors that make her a Mary Sue.
Able to fly
Genius
Sole heir to throne
Almost invulnerable
Able to perform magic despite no actual talent
The last three are related to the Codex Aetherica, so I think we should start there. *cracks knuckles viciously*
At this point, the Codex is an almost unlimited, easy-to-use resource of magic and knowledge that marks out how special Elanor is.
We could remove the “easy-to-use” bit, which would give us:
A massive, un-indexed repository of charts, diagrams, spells and various other articles in all sorts of languages, annotated in the illegible handwriting of several hundred kings and queens. (It’s bigger on the inside than the outside, of course.) Usually a monarch teaches ens children some useful functions that make it easier and then let them figure it out, but with her father dead, Elanor’s on her own.
Or we could remove the “almost unlimited” bit, and:
The Codex draws its power from her, and so, early on, is incredibly exhausting and draining to use.
Either of these, or another option would work. This removes her invulnerability and her incredible magikal powers (except flying.)
So now what have we got?
Able to fly
Genius
Sole heir to throne
We should keep the flying ability, I think. To put a twist on it, maybe we could say that most noble families have some sort of power like that, even non-mages.
Genius… Well, we could bump her down to her own grade, and simply make her smart (mostly A’s and B’s)
Sole heir to throne… there’s nothing we can do about that unless we want to change the entire storyline. We could have a few other “false heirs” stirring up the commoners, though, including one with considerably better PR than Elanor’s faction.
262- Ooh, false heirs! That adds a whole other level of difficulty to the story. I like it.
I like it!
False Heirs would also be cool too. They’d have to be pretty powerful though already, since they would be going up against all of those evil dudes whose names I should really figure out.
Well, we could have a bunch of competing Usurpers instead of one overarching empire. This might overcomplicate things, but Z could still be the Big Bad.
That would most likely be more realistic. A bunch of different powerful dudes trying to share one world usually doesn’t work out so well. They’re always trying to off the other guys and get more power.
This could make the story more interesting! Politics! We should add more input from the Usurpers! Dive into their heads more! Have a few assasinations, a few battles amoungst the different Usurpers, etc. That would add a little more liveliness to story, sort of. Give any readers the chance to get away from the “goody two shoes” should we say and get a glimpse of the dark side.
Exxxcelent idea.
So, we’re going back to the original story and fixing it now? Yay!
Approximately.
Elanor needs some character flaws. The only ones I could find even hinted at were arrogance and over-emotional…ness.
266.1- Let’s just elaborate on those and see what turns up. I think arrogance and over-emotional-ness are quite enough to turn her into a very unpleasant character, which isn’t what we want to do, but if there’s the capacity for that, then obviously there’s the capacity for something in between her current state of Mary-Sue and the possible state of Very Unpleasant Protagonist.
Well, it has to do with how insecure she is under all that.
That sounds good! So, she acts like a jerk, but she’s really very scared and confused. Right?
Dum dee diddly bop! School is OVA for me now. I’m ready to do something! Where are we starting out with this new plan?
270- From the beginning?
Oh my. *rolls up sleeves reluctantly* OK! Let’s do this thing! *looks for story* Arg. This is annoying. What parts are edited? I’m confused. Alas. I’ll just do a little then. Keep it simple.
– – — – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Ooooo. Me likes that effect. – – – – – – – – – –
Bring! Bring! “@#%! Alarm†Elanor exclaimed, still half asleep. She looked at the clock.
“Why is it so early? It’s not supposed to go off for another hour. Oh. Wait. Never mind†she thought. She glanced down at the small square of paper – no, parchment – in her hand. Rose cafe 4 pm DON’T BE LATE. She had been at the local bookstore purchasing a book when, along with the receipt, this message was given to her. She had no clue what it meant or whether it was a good idea but curiosity overcame her. I’m so confused. Why is her alarm ringing early if the meeting is in the evening? That doesn’t even make sense! This doesn’t even have anything really to do with making Elanor less of a Mary Sue but it irks me already! *fumes* OK. I’m calm now.
She had rolled over and was about to fall back asleep when the alarm clock rang again. Dang, she thought, and pressed snooze instead of off. Deciding it best to get up, she dressed herself, got ready for school, and started the long trek to her school, the middle school in her area. She had skipped a couple grades, being smarter than the average bear, and had started trumpet the previous year. First of all, why does it say she’s a bear? Second, we’re x-ing this out right? About her being crazy smart? Also, I’ve read this part and I’ve realized that it goes from Elanor getting dressed and leaving the house to Elanor being back in the house and eating breakfast. Flashback necessary? I shall now use my amazing crossing out powers! she rolled clumsily off of her comfy bed and stumbled blearily around her room, dressing in a sleepy daze.
Carrying her trumpet and backpack, she ran out of the door with a half-warmed-up pop-tart in her mouth, which her mother had handed her, even though she knew Elanor hated them.
†Wow, I sure hope I won’t be late for school,†she thought, knowing that if she was, she would be stopped by the school bullies again.
Sure enough, just as she rounded the corner, she heard the school bell ring in the distance. It was too late. Maybe she could hide. But no, before the bell’s obnoxious clang even stopped resonating in her mind, Brogan and his cohorts sauntered into view. Chewing furiously on the last bit of pop tart, she tucked the odd parchment into her coat pocket. She didn’t want to loose this mysterious note, or forget about the odd appointment. Then, there was nothing to do but wait.
OK. Question here. If her alarm went off one hour early then why is she late?
No, actually we’re starting from scratch. New story, new draft. Right?
Right.
Wowsers! You mean….. everything…. totally everything….. including the first one book is gone? Whoah. That’s depressing.
Well, not gone, as such. It’s a first draft. Now we’re working on the second draft.
Trust me, it’s a lot of work but very rewarding. Terraformed’s improved a lot, what there is of it.
OK. So, we’re totally rewriting, but we’re just using the same ideas? This actually makes things simpler in a way. *sigh of relief*
Does anyone else think we should get a new thread for this? This one is sort of long already…….
Well……. Okey day. I’ll be honest. I don’t know where to start. I guess with a pre thingy mejigger. *shuffles feet nervously*
Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep it steady. Keep it going.
Rain slashed against the boy’s already drenched body as he propelled himself forward. The sky was dark, as if someone had flipped a switch on the sun. The earth rumbled threateningly and suddenly the world lit up with a flash of lightning. That split second revealed the landscape, a thin dirt road stretching through a thick forest of limbs and debree. The world once more surrendering to darkness, the boy hoped fervently that he would not stumble over any of the wreckage. A gust of wind hit him forcefully in the face and he bent over with added exertion. No matter the odds, he must reach his goal. His message was too important to be lost. Everything depended on it. He clutched the scroll tucked protectively inside his coat with determination.
A light flickered ahead and he gasped with relief. He had made it. With one more burst of speed, he took off down the last stretch, almost colliding with someone on his way. He twisted around to avoid contact and lost his balance. This a sickening squelch he landed in the mud.
“Here lad.” came a gruff voice above him.
Gratefully, the boy took the extended hand and pulled himself up.
“Do have a message for me? Of some importance?” the voice asked.
The boy nodded mutely and the man pursed his lips sadly. “Come.” he said and led the boy away.
How was that?
Looks good, but I think we still have to work out a few things before we actually start writing.
We have the four main characters pretty much nailed, but there’s the world to consider.
Creatures. Etheterre has been referred to as the realm of the human imagination, but there’s a grand total of maybe three “mythological” creatures in it. By which I mean creatures that the authors didn’t make up. We should either change the entire concept, or put in a few more mythic creatures. Xixins, Fenkins and (whatever Intinier is) are too awesome/plot-critical to take out, but maybe we ought to exchange woonkledevvers for alicantos or something.
Geography. When I was younger, I thought that organizing everything by continent was an awesome idea. Now I think it’s overly artificial. I still like the idea of climates being wonky (“Africa” being glacial, “Antarctica” being desert/tropical), but one Usurper and one gateway per continent is kind of forced. Of course, if we go with more mythological creatures, the wonky climates wouldn’t really work, but it’s something to consider.
Politics. We already addressed this. Instead of one big powerful empire, we’ve got false heirs, warlords, rogue mages, unique creatures and minor nobles jockeying for power. Maybe Zefethelyan, if we keep him, could be a covert ruler, manipulating everything from behind the scenes. That subtlety seems like the sort of thing an Arkael would go in for.
Gateways. Like I said, one per continent seems artificial to me now. Maybe there are certain powerful forces that can cross over without a gateway… but once the border has been crossed once, further crossings in that place become easier and easier. Or maybe they appear randomly, stay there for a few days, and then fade. Perhaps they’re mobile and keyed to transfer marbles. All things to consider.
Creatures: Mystic creatures like griffens, unicorns, dragons, gnomes (dude you know you love them) fairies? Is that what you mean? I suppose we could stick in some, but we could change them around a little so that they aren’t so clique. Like maybe making dragons more human-like and gnomes bruisers. I like woonkledevvers though. The name is just… just… awesomely inspiring.
Geography: I see what you mean. It’s not realistic. I mean, one Usurper could rule one and half continents and another could own maybe 1/4 of one or something like that. And that could lead to more competition between Usurpers, so we may even be able to add in an Usurper helping the rebels through a shared enemy.
Politics: Oui oui.
Gateways: I like the first idea you had about certain forces being able to cross over freely and that it gets easier in those spots afterward. Then, not just anyone can cross over, since you have to have some power, no matter how small.
GNOOOOOOOMES!!! *ahem* yes, sorry. Actually, what with all the intelligent, magical dragons in recent literature, I suggest going in the opposite direction if we include dragons at all… maybe making them Loathsome Worms with acidic drool and massive appetites, lurking in abandoned wells.
Actually, I believe that the gateway idea was originally THF’s. Credit where it’s due.
You have a point about the dragons now that I think about it. *recalls all the recent books I’ve read with intelligent dragons*
Here’s an interesting map:
The names would have to be changed, and there might be fantastic elements we could add to the weather, but the climate (cold Africa, tropical Antarctica) works well for Etheterre.
Whoops… there’s a bit of NSFW stuff on that site… GAPAs, feel free to zap the URL if you think it inappropriate.
We’ll take your word for it. I made some adjustments.
Thanks, Lady Bunniful.
Awesome!
Back to creatures… we could put in some of the more obscure mythological beings, to avoid cliche-ness.
*cracks open 1000-page encyclopedia of magical creatures[1]*
Right. Let’s begin with North America (or Kolombent, rather)…
[1]This is an actual book that I own. Seriously.
No, wait, I lied. It’s only about 700 pages.
OK. North America. Bigfoot? Jackalopes?
For Kolombent, I think we ought to have a mixture of Native American folkloric beasts and “fearsome critters” of lumberjack legend.
Axehandle hounds could be common pets. Cactus cats might be vicious predators. Stuff like that.
The diabolical aspect of cactus cats is that they’re just as cute as the regular kind — especially the kittens — so you simply can’t resist trying to pet them…and then you spend the rest of the day painfully plucking out nasty little spiny things.
ouchOUCHouchOUCHouchOUCHouchOUCH….
Yeah, they are cute, aren’t they?
awwwwwww. They sound so cute! Kind of like porcipines? Except cuter. are there really cactus cats? I’d never heard of them…
You know, you said “lumber jack” and now I have the Lumberjack song stuck in my head.
*twiddles thumbs* Where are the people? Alas.
No, there are not really any cactus cats. Sadly.
Where were we…
OK, we’ve got the characters, geography and politics fixed or at least jerry-rigged. How do we propose to fix the Codex Aetherica?
Oh, that loverly book that is entirely odd? It does definitely have its problems. Didn’t we have trouble deciding exactly what it was and how it was used? And then we had problems with Elanor magically knowing how to work it and her not knowing it was there… etc. etc. I don’t really remember it all, just that we had lot of loose ends.
I like the book idea. That’s how much I know. *regrets having to leave very quickly*
well, poopers. Everyone is gone. I think I kill all conversations.
I think we need a new thread! Peas GAPAs?
282- Remind me again what was wrong with the Codex Aetherica?
I think there was confusion about exactly how it worked and then how elanor know how to work it and whether it was a backpack of something. I don’t exactly remember it all. ?but I must run. *runs*
Seriously, I think we need a new thread. It will refresh us and we’re already over the 300 mark. Please GAPAs? *offers cheese*