These are not RRRs (or RPGs) but solo writing projects which share the same thread. Start your own, or just stop by and read your fellow MuseBloggers’ creations.
Continued from Muse Fanfiction, v. 2008.4.
NOTE: This thread is reserved for actual writing. If you want to cheer on the author or otherwise comment directly, use the “reply” button, so as not to interrupt the flow of the story.
Please use the Planning Thread for all planning and general discussion.
So what is this thread all about? Do we write stories about the Muses? Or is it like an RPG?
It is most emphatically not an RPG. Writers can include other MBers in their stories (with permission), but that’s as far as it goes; everyone has complete control over their own story.
Muse: Omega, Revised
RE-REPOST FOR GREAT JUSTICE!
~
Urania sat back in her chair, running a hand through her now-hopelessly tangled blond hair. The holographic blueprint hovering in front of her was incredibly complex, but after a few seconds of concentration she’d measured each strut and panel, calculated the stresses on each one of them, and reduced the tangled lines to a neat little pile of dancing numbers in her head.
After a moment, she gulped down the remnants of her Turkish coffee, reached into the image, and tagged a few key points with glowing red dots, the Intelligent Air sensing her intent as easily as it tracked the position of her fingers.
A voice whispered in her ear- a new supervisor, she could tell, although the distorter program in the Air masked the speech patterns. Definitely female, probably young. “How’s it going?â€
Urania gritted her teeth at the false warmth in the woman’s voice. “The general design is sound, but the way you’ve implemented it is faulty. Several of the plates surrounding the fusion core are insufficiently insulated- you’ll have to replace them months before spec. And the support strut arrangement puts all the weight on three key points- I’ve attached a suggestion for better mass distribution. Overall, if you put this into production, you’ll get a fifteen to nineteen percent drop in efficiency.â€
“Well, thank you very much,†the woman continued. “We couldn’t have done it without you.â€
Of course you couldn’t have, you crow-gnawed buffoons, Urania thought. Aloud, she said. “Of course. My next destination?â€
“Venus- we’ve laid a course into your shuttle’s navigation system already. There’s an orbital telescope they want looked at.â€
The Muse of Astronomy cut off the transmission without ceremony and quietly recited the first three hundred and sixty digits of pi to calm herself down. Then she reached into the Intelligent Air interface and sent a call to Mount Parnassus.
It was answered on the third ring. The cool green cloud of Air, the loading screen of the Whispernet, resolved into a smiling, ageless face, the twin (or more accurately, nonuplet) of Urania’s. “Γειά σου, Οá½Ïανία!â€
Urania returned the smile. “Hi, Thalia. How’s everything?â€
The Old Muse of Comedy remained silent for a few seconds- at these distances, time lag was still a factor. “Not bad,†she finally said. “Calliope’s been hunched up with that typewriter for the last few weeks, Melpomene’s moping, and Euterpe’s working on a new αá½Î»ÏŒÏ‚ pipe. Believe it or not, it’s actually kind of quiet.†Her grin widened. “I’ll have to change that.â€
Thalia’s expression turned thoughtful as she realized what her sister had meant. “They’re treating us very well, ‘Rani. We’ve got an entire mountain to ourselves.â€
A mountain with a kilo of antimatter in magnetic suspension under it, Urania thought bitterly. “Well, if you need anything, tell me, OK?â€
“Sure thing. Σ’ αγαπώ.†Thalia ended the call.
The Muse of Astronomy muttered a highly detailed Greek curse involving all four Furies and the Pythagorean theorem before activating the prison-shuttle’s controls and setting a course for Venus.
~
Alice picked her way over the shards of concrete and glass, her breath harsh and loud in her ears, amplified by the gas mask half covering her face. She flicked a strand of damp hair away from her face- even in April, the sweltering heat and heavy mask were making her perspire.
“Find anything?†TMFA’s voice came sudden and sharp over the radio.
Alice replied with a sort of vocal shrug. “Meh. The Brahmagupta Institute was at the center of the bombardment. Not much left but a crater. I did manage to get into a deep cellar and found a couple computers still intact- I’ve got the hard disks in the case right now. Obviously all the documents were burned.â€
TMFA hissed in frustration. “The Confederation must have learned about the reverse-engineering attempts. Nothing else worth taking here.â€
Alice nodded, although she knew TMFA wouldn’t see it. “I’ll be back in five.â€
Following the old map on the flexiscreen strapped to her wrist, she navigated the ruined streets of Mumbai back to the coast. Several of the piers had shattered and sunk from the shock of the blast. A rusting oil tanker listed out in the bay like a whale’s rotting corpse.
The little raft with its outboard motor was tied up where she’d left it. She got in with no small sense of relief. Even after six years of running and hiding from the Confeds, onshore work still made her nervous. India wasn’t even the worst, when compared to the radioactive rubble of Hokkaido or the stranglecreeper jungle that had consumed everything south of Hadrian’s Wall.
Alice started up the motor, thinking longingly of taut rigging and billowing white sails, and putt-putted out into the bay.
The first sign of trouble was a beep from the flexiscreen on her wrist. The second was a loud curse over the commlink, followed by TMFA’s frantic voice. “Intelligent Air, moving towards you! Hurry!”
Strange Happenings
Jen was your ordinary teenage girl. That is, for a MuseBlogger. But soon, the Muserly definition of ordinary would be changing drastically. And Jen would be caught in the middle, as would other MBers.
She woke up, as usual, to her iPhone singing “Have a pieâ€. She got up, singing along, and put on her usual outfit, a MA t-shirt over jeans, with a MA cap, a hot pink handkerchief sticking out of her pocket, and a “pieâ€-a small cushion shaped like a pie- with the word “Fireh†embroidered on it strapped to her left hand completing her outfit. She paused, then went over to her desk and opened a small drawer, very carefully. Inside was the hot pink watch her aunt had given her for her birthday. Picking it up carefully, she inspected it thoroughly before strapping it to her right wrist. “Hope it’s not a gift from the bunnies.†she muttered under her breath, then laughed. “Like HPBs really exist. Not.†she added, grinning at herself in the mirror as she cartwheeled out of her room and decided to skip the steps, hopping onto the railing and sliding down. “Oi, Jen! Morning!†her younger sister greeted her as she started assembling her breakfast. “Hey. G’morning yourself.†Jen replied cheerfully. “Dont make me bunnify you now.†She added, then looked at her sister again. “Not that you need it, wearing a shirt like that.†she grinned, pointing at Martha’s hot pink shirt. ((Martha=Jens younger sister. Not my younger sisters name.))
Martha laughed. “You’re too obsessed with that blog thing, Jen.†Jen shrugged. “And?†she retorted, grabbing her toast out of the toaster and shoving it in her mouth. “See ya after school!†she yelled over her shoulder as she went out the door.
———-
After a refreshing morning of schoolwork, Jen was inspecting the school cafeteria carefully, grinning as she spotted the “popular†group, all wearing hot pink for some reason. She sauntered over to them casually and remarked loudly into a gap in the conversation, “You shouldn’t wear hot pink like that. If you don’t take the correct precautions you’re risking bunnification from so much exposure.â€
They stared at her. “What?†one finally ventured. “Bunnification is hyptnosis by a hot pink bunny, or HPB, that renders you their slave.†Jen elaborated. Another person laughed. “Youve got a hot pink cloth and watch, and you don’t seem to be hyptonised.†en retorted. Jen shrugged. “I took the correct precautions. And I’m trying to build up Resistance.â€
“Oh? Prove it!â€
“I could bunnify you with this watch.†Jen bluffed, pointing her right hand at en, who laughed. “Yeah, riiiight.†Jen narrowed her eyes. “Bunnify!†she yelled, and blinked. Out of the top of the watch, a pink light was shooting towards one of the populars. Upon impact, ens eyes turned pink and en grew claws. Jen’s mouth fell open. “Uhhh…. DEBUNNIFY!†she yelled hastily. Now a blue light emmited from the watch towards en, debunnifying upon impact. The populars gaped at her. “I told you.†Jen smirked knowingly and walked away.
——
After school, Jen went straight to her room and nearly dived on top of her laptop. As she hastily booted it up, she removed the watch and put it in a small, locked, drawer. Hastily she typed into her browser the MB URL and went to the Monthly Random Thread.
fireandhemlock1996
@November 20th, 2010, 4:45:
Someone help me. I’m going mad. There’s no other explanation. At lunch my watch bunnified someone. The watch is hot pink…. I shouldn’t have worn it. Luckily I managed to debunnify en before any real damage.
Please tell me there’s a reasonable explanation for this. I’m not the only one who saw it, either…..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mira was just your ordinary eleven-year-old, except she wasn’t ordinary. Well, she was ordinary for a MuseBlogger! However, soon, the Muserly definition of ordinary would be changing drastically. And Mira would be unlucky (or was she lucky?) enough to get caught in the middle, as would a certain few other MBers.
She woke up in the morning that weekend as always, just in time to get dressed. And as she was about to rush out the door to the car, she remembered the hot pink charm bracelet that had been given to her as a birthday present, with a customized set of MB charms on it. It hadn’t been worn yet, but today was the perfect day.
“Hurry up, Mira!†her mom called.
“Coming!†Mira yelled back, throwing on her charm bracelet and heading out. And where were they going, you ask? To a very popular park!
As Mira ran to get away from her younger brother about twenty minutes later, she stopped behind a tree and looked at her bracelet. Thinking about MuseBlog was something she did quite often, and as she gazed at the bracelet, she muttered “I wish I was Varete…â€
Suddenly, a pink, green, and white ray of light emerged from her charm bracelet and struck her. Then, if anyone had looked at her hiding spot, they would have seen a bunch of sparkles surrounding a human form. When they vanished, Mira wasn’t standing there anymore: Varete Teris was. Wasting no time, the pink-eyed girl stared at the charm bracelet and whispered “I wish I was myself again!â€
And she was. Thankfully, her mother then called her, saying they were leaving exactly then, so she pondered about it all the way home. And when she was about to post about it, she noticed fireh had gone through a similar happenstance, and replied to that post.
Witchneko
@November 20th, 2010, 4:50:
Fireh, you’re not going crazy. Even though we’re all mad here.
I got a hot pink charm bracelet, and I wore it out to the park-and it turned me into Varete from the Demigod RPG!
What’s going on here?! Am I hallucinating or is this a dream?! I know that I was Vara! Help! Has anyone gone through similar things? Because I think I’m going insane…
——
Hannah was just your ordinary high schooler… strange, anime-obsessed, tended to talk to herself and to inanimate objects…. Well, that’s ordinary for a MuseBlogger! However, soon, the Muserly definition of ordinary would be changing drastically. And Hannah would be crazy enough to get caught in the middle, as would a few other MuseBloggers who would suffer similar fates.
“Time for school, Hannah! Get up!â€
“I AM up, Mom,†she called back. “I’ve been awake since six-thirty.â€
“Well, duh, that’s when your alarm goes off.â€
“I’ve been out of bed since six-thirty, that better?â€
“What are you doing up there?â€
“Ummmm, nothing…†Which was obviously a lie.
“Hannah! What are you doing?â€
“Nothing! I’m almost done!â€
“You’re… almost done doing nothing?â€
She was almost done trying to find that pendant Sudo had randomly mailed to her. She hadn’t even realized he remembered her address, and suddenly he’d sent her this pretty necklace, just a few days before…. the only odd thing about it was its color, which was hot pink, and that it looked exactly like Princess Tutu’s except for its color. Oh, and he hadn’t written a note, plus there hadn’t been any occasion or anything. Her birthday wasn’t till May.
“Aha!†she said, grabbing it and putting it on. It went perfectly with her outfit, so of course she had occasion to wear it! Even if it ended up bunnifying her or something!
At school that day, she was quickly caught up in the whirlwind of schoolwork. Finally, she had a chance to take a break! She went in the bathroom to make sure her hair didn’t look totally stupid. A futile effort, since it kinda did.
“I wish my hair was straight…†she muttered, turning around and walking out of the bathroom. As she turned, she noticed her pendant glowing.
“Wow, that’s a pretty cool trick of the light,†she said. “Or maybe there’s a heart shard around?†She laughed, reaching up to twirl a piece of her hair.
Which felt suspiciously straight.
“I wish my eyes were green,†she said, testing this new power.
Her eyes were green.
RoseQuartz
@November 20th, 2010, 5:10
I have a hot pink pendant. I can change my appearance. There is something definitely weird here.
Oh, thanks for the pendant, by the way, SR. Apparently it’s magic.
SudoRandom
@November 20th, 2010, 5:23
What pendant, Rq?
Okay, here’s my FanFic. Hinn SÃðastur Nótt is it’s name. I’m just putting myself as the Anti-Hero, because nobody’s volunteered yet.
Hinn SÃðastur Nótt
Enceladus walked down the dark, dirty, grimy street. He noticed a book lying in the gutters. The True History Of The World it said. He picked it up and inspected it, just as the mechanical curfew bells rang. He hurried to the nearest train station. With a large crowd, he waited as a train rolled into the station, the gears slowly turning, pulling the train along the tracks. The pendulum unwound, and the train stopped. Everybody filed on, as the trainmaster rewound the train. Stupid crowded train. Enceladus thought I wish everybody would just die. At his stop, Enceladus left. He hurried home, the geared elevator working its way up to the top. He entered, bowed five times before the picture of The Sudo, and sat in his room.
Meanwhile, The Sudo, formerly SudoRandom sat at his desk in the great Palace. His subjects worshiped him. He was not aware of that. All he was aware of was the ticking. The constant ticking from the clockwork that made all technology. Everything ticking. He slumped. Keiffer ran in, to make sure he was ok.
“There’s a visitor here to see you. Shall I perform normal procedure?” Keiffer asked.
“Yes.” The Sudo said. He was mechanical. A scream emanated from the room Keiffer lead the person into. The Sudo didn’t hear it. All The Sudo heard was the ticking. The constant ticking. It was the rhythm of life. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. It never stopped.
This seems like a dystopian clockpunk story- which is fine in itself, of course, but it doesn’t have anything to do with Muse or its Blog except that the characters are incidentally named after MBers, at least so far.
Well, I’m making it like a warped idea of MuseBlog, where along with worshiping SudoRandom, they also have to worship other MuseBlog insignia, such as pies, Kokopelli, and HPBs. Sorry if it seems otherwise.
But it’s sorta dieing. I think it’s dead. I’m better at first person writing.
Alice gunned the engine, struggling to keep her balance. “Why couldn’t you have told me earlier?” she snapped.
“It must have come down fast, from high up- these sensors don’t have a good range! Let’s see… coming from the northwest, about ten meters from your position, 70, 80 klicks per hour and closing…”
Alice turned to look, despite herself. It was hard to judge size and distance, but she saw a roughly circular patch of water that was not behaving like the ocean around it; parting slightly, ripples rushing out, like a wake.
She turned her attention back to the water ahead. Closer to the rendezvous point than she’d thought, and there was something dark rushing up through the choppy sea…
The submarine surfaced with a roar, torrents of white water cascading down its corroded sides and almost obscuring the Nordic cross painted there. The raft rammed up against hard, curved metal, flinging Alice forward. She scrambled up toward the hatch, already opening. “The raft- we have to secure it-”
“No time!” TMFA screamed. “Get in!”
OK, this is a TV show. Here is the very beginning. I promise I’ll write more later.
(All of the following lines are in separate places. In each shot, the character is seen from behind and has a sculpture/painting of the Muse en is invoking in front of en.)
Alice: I invoke you, Crraw, to help me write my sonnet.
Enc: I invoke you, Chad, to help me making a working model solar car.
Speller: I invoke you, Urania, to help me write this proof.
Randomosity: I invoke you, Mimi, to help me make some friends at this school.
Jenny: I invoke you, hot pink bunny, to help me… succeed.
(Jenny turns around, smiles, and bats her eyelashes. She is clearly wearing large, though not untasteful, amounts of make-up and is extremely beautiful. Opening credits, which I can post a description of later if you like, play. The theme song is Sellinger’s Round.)
(Cool! What about the other muses?)
((The MAers invoke the 9 modern Muses. The invoke a different Muse depending on the task necessary.)
Alice dropped in and slammed the hatch shut behind her. There was a thump and hiss as it sealed hermetically. In the little, breathless space of silence, she fancied she could hear a faint buzzing sound, like an angry swarm of bees.
As TMFA submerged the vessel again, she yanked off the gas mask , revealing long, dark hair and a hand-knitted, striped scarf. “How we doing?”
“They saw the sub,” TMFA panted, “but not you, and we filed off all the serial numbers long ago. We’ll just have to move our base of operations, that’s all.”
“There’s more intair now, isn’t there?” Alice mused. The secondary hatch clanked open below her, and she descended into red-lit gloom. “You wouldn’t have seen a scout-cloud this far south even a year ago.”
“It’s the factories in Kazakhstan,” TMFA replied. There was no need for radio now- across the long, dim room that took up most of the sub, she could see him, outlined against the flickering glow of an ancient monitor, hair untidy, typing away at three quarters of a keyboard. “They’ve been pumping out all sorts of stuff for the past three months. Contacts say it’s mostly military screamerfog, but there’s at least a little subliminal advertising in there, too.”
Alice could not suppress a shudder. She’d seen screamerfog at work once or twice; not close up, or she wouldn’t still be able to see and hear. But definitely close enough to see the stuttering white light, like a magnesium flare, and hear the dentists’-drill whine.
She handed over the case. TMFA turned to take it, eyes flashing with a little of his old humor. “Let’s find out what the Brahmaguptas have got to show us.”
“Buitoni,” the whisper came in the night.
“Buitoni,” AEIOU heard when she woke up in the morning.
“Buitoni,” Kokopelli discerned, noticing AEIOU was also awake, across the Muses’ room.
“Buitoni, Buitoni, Buitoni,” All the Muses awoke.
Urania was puzzled. “Does anyone else hear that sound?” she asked.
“Yeah,” replied Crraw, “It sounds like it’s saying…Buitoni.”
Chad wandered around the room, listening at cracks and under the beds. “Buitoni,” he muttered, “Buitoni…what on MuseBlog is Buitoni?” Kokopelli shrugged. But Urania searched her mind, and suddenly said, “The name sounds familiar.” Kokopelli rolled his somewhat nonexistent eyes. “So was it the name of Dante’s neighbor, or a computer programming code in Turkey from 1984?” Urania scowled – “Neither. It sounds like it might be something from a television program.”
Chad suddenly paused at AEIOU’s bed. “It’s coming from under AEIOU’s bed,” he pronounced. All the Muses ran over to look.
“Buitoni!” the mysterious voice gasped, and a figure flew out from under the couch. The Muses jumped back in shock.
“Who…are…you?” Chad said slowly, because the mysterious female person seemed slightly vacant. “I am a muse,” the person dreamily said. The real Muses looked at each other. “No, you’re not,” said Crraw. “Only we are Muses.”
“I am the Muse of Buitoni,” said the vacant person.
“So what’s Buitoni, exactly and specifically?” said Urania. “It sounds very familiar.”
The person stood up straighter. “Haven’t got an idea of what to do for dinner?” she recited. “Buitoni,” she whispered. “Try any of Buitoni’s line of delicious pastas and Italian frozen foods. Available at your local supermarket,” she finished, and smiled benignly. “Buitoni.”
All of the Muses stared at her in wonder. Then Urania snapped her fingers. “This poor pseudo-muse is from the television commercial about frozen pasta,” she announced. “She’s most certainly lost.”
“Well, what can we do about it?” wondered Chad. Kokopelli stepped forward with a very familiar look on his face. “What we always do,” he stated. “Well, what I always do.” Producing a pie from behind his back, Koko pied the Buitoni muse squarely in the face. Shocked, she blinked, and vanished. “Well done, Kokopelli you joker,” Urania said. “For once, you’ve come in handy.”
Kokopelli bowed.
FINISH – until the Buitoni muse comes back to haunt us all.
OK, here’s the bit right after the credits. (Yes, I realize I’ll never get very far if I only write a tiny bit at a time, so I’ll try to write some longer segments later.)
(Speller and Randomosity and walking through a hallway of Muse Academy.)
Speller: And this is the grand pie room. Since you’re a freshman, you’ll be having your required pie studies class in here.
Randomosity: Pie Studies? What’s that?
Speller: You, well, study pies. You know, pie making, pie eating, and of course pie throwing. Very fun, very muserly and you can always invoke Koko if you’re having trouble.
Randomosity: Sounds pretty stupid to me.
Speller: Trust me, it’s-
(Something else catches her eye, and we see Alice and Enc enter.)
Speller: Alice!
Alice: Speller!
(The two girls run towards each other.)
Speller: Alice! I haven’t seen you in ages! How was your summer?
Alice: Pretty good. I got to spend most of it my tall ship. Still, it’s good to be back at Muse Academy. How was yours?
Speller: Oh, I went to math camp again. Nothing like your tall ship.
(Enc and Randomosity stare at them.)
Alice: Speller, this is Enc. He’s who the school assigned as my little brother this year. How’s your little sister?
Speller: (smiling) Intolerable. Randomosity, this is Alice. She was my big sister last year. She’s a junior, so she’ll have a lot of work, and you should be really nice to her. And this is Enc.
Enc: (extending his hand) Pleased to meet you.
Speller: Enc’s in your grade, so you’ll probably have lots of classes together.
Randomosity: (not shaking Enc’s hand, sarcastically) The pleasure is mine.
((Feedback appreciated. Do I make the whole sibling thing make sense? The idea is that the school assigns every freshman a “big sibling to show them around.))
Cool. I like your style, and you seem to have the Randomosity thing perfect.
Oh, good. I was afraid you might object some to your character. I should warn you that you’ll get a bit of a popular girl complex. Only a bit though; mostly you’ll just be whiny and cynical.
Well, the only comment I can make is that I’m actually incredibly anti-popular, and I have always believed in the power of pie. I’m not complaining, and I don’t think you should change anything, I’m just making a statement.
Shawn and Kyla BulPopular…
Well, your character isn’t exactly popular. She just has a slight feeling of superiority that a lot of popular girls have. As for the being dismissive of pie studies, in this universe, Muse magazine and MB don’t exist, just Muse Academy. Think how you’d react if you had never heard of Muse, and your school required you to take pie studies.
I’d say, “Yay! Pie!” Actually, that’s an analogy I use in math class. The closer the clock gets to the time I leave, the bigger the slice of pie gets. Since it’s a circle and all. I used to pretend it was something disgusting I had to eat that I was almost finished with, but today I thought of the “more and more pie to eat” analogy…this is such a PoPo.
Ack, contradiction. I meant suspected arson.
Is this any good?
Rosie and Luna walked to school.it was a normal day,exept they we being spied on by the hpbfbi or hot pink bunny FBI. They did not know but they where heirs of the new wands, an elite magic club that banishes hot pink bunnies and their minions and have often worked with the new muses. The hot pink bunnies knew because their hungering love for muse magizines, and the odd things that happened to them. They thought they were just unlucky. luna could see in they dark,and talk to nocturnal animals. Rose was good at gardening and plant stuff and talk to plants and insects. She could never get dirty. ” hey, Luna, your eyes are glowing!”rose said,concerned about her friend. She waved her hand in front of lunas face. Luna was shaking as bunnies chopped the air. She passed out and fell on a cloud.mean while rose was turning into a flower. Rose was uncouncious and eveything blacked out.
” have you determined her yet?” a New wand member whispererd. The other one nodded.” the first one is a sky type and the other and earth type.” she excliamed. To be cointinued!
Wow. I was a bad n00b.
OK, time to keep going. This segment will actually be a bit longer…
(Everyone is seated in the great hall, which is basically the same layout as Hogwarts’s great hall sans house point counters or enchanted ceiling. But you know, house tables and staff table. Robert stands.)
Robert: If we were not at Muse Academy, I would be about to bore you all to death with some terribly dull speech about the joys of learning. But, as I sincerely hope you all have figured out by now, we are at Muse Academy. So instead, I’ll just say welcome to our freshmen and welcome back to the rest and move onto announcements. First, we have just finalized your schedules. They’ve been sent to your dorms, and they are also available online. Also, this year, we are not alone on this island…
(Ominous music plays.)
Randomosity: Ooh, that sounded creepy!
(Ominous music stops.)
Robert: Honestly, I don’t think it should be a problem. There’s another school on this island called Bunny Academy. I have talked to their administrators, and they assure us that they won’t bother us, and we won’t bother them. So I thought I should warn you that you may see them around, but I really don’t expect much interaction between our schools, save the occasional fencing tournament. And with that, I wish you good night. Or good early evening to those of you staying up reading Tolkien all night. I would discourage staying up late so early in the school year, but it does appear that it’s become a tradition.
(He sits down. The students start leaving the hall. The next day, Speller and Alice are examining a poem in a class.)
Speller: Than any she belied with false compare. (She smiles.) I love Shakespeare.
Alice: I’ve always liked this sonnet. It’s not mushy sentiments of love; it’s literary criticism!
(The scene changes to Enc and Randomosity in Pie Studies. Randomosity is aiming a pie at Enc.)
Randomosity: Are you ready?
(She makes a grandiose gesture and then weakly thrusts the pie forward. It hits Enc’s feet.)
Enc: (looking down) Maybe you should try again.
(The scene changes again to Speller in jazz band.)
Speller and jazzers: Doo ba doo ba doo doo ba doo dit da!
(They burst into laughter. The scene changes again. It is nighttime, and Speller and Alice are at the lake. Alice is carrying a fencing foil and is skipping stones. Speller attempts to skip a stone, but her stone just sinks.)
Speller: Well, that kind of failed.
Alice: Yeah… How was your first day of classes?
Speller: Good. Great. It’s always good to be back at Muse Academy. Especially before the craziness sets in.
Alice: Yeah, even though we don’t have nearly as much homework as most people, with classes going until 9 each night and extra play practices and all my clubs on the weekends, it’s madness.
Speller: But that’s why we love it. That and the fact that we have casual conversations about Shakespeare.
Alice: Speaking of Shakespeare, what do you think of the fact that we’re performing Twelfth Night in Shakespeare studies?
Speller: I’m so excited. It’s my favorite Shakespeare play.
Alice: I know. So I’ll play Viola, and you’ll play Maria…
(She’s cut off buy the sound of something moving quickly through the bushes. It’s hard to see it in the dark, but it looks lagomorphic. It starts to attack Alice. Alice screams. Speller grabs Alice’s foil and begins to clumsily hack at the creature, which eventually dies.)
Alice: (slowly) What was that?
Speller: I don’t know, but it’s a pity you don’t do sabre. And that these foils have the little protector thingy on the end.
I think I’ll leave it there…
((“Bunny Academy,” eh? I’m sure the lagormorphic attack couldn’t possibly be connected with them.))
Nice, except that I’m a little more sadistic. I’d probably laugh, and then say “Maybe you should try again”. But I like it muchly!
Great. I will say though, what I would do in the situation you put me in is try to hide my skills at pie throwing by looking even worse than I was, and then when I want to really pie someone, I’d put something sharp in it. You don’t have to use that. It’s just an idea.
Can I be in this? It’s awesome!
I already have the plot for the first episode worked out, but I might be able to fit you in as a more minor character. Can I get your description (age, gender, personality, MA house)?
Age: 13
Gender: Female
MA house: Lasley
Me too?
Name: Unknown, everyone calls her LBK ( :lol:)
Age:12
Gender: Female
Personality: Shy, quiet, an assiduous reader.
Hmm… I”m trying to make this about high school, but maybe you two could be visiting MA or something… I’ll try to work you guys in, but no guarantees.
((S’ okay. You can kill me off, make me a victim of the BA or something. Wait….I just realized that Bunny Academy has the same initials as Bunny Apocalypse. 8O))
Well, I’m the same age as Enc.
OK, I have 10 minutes, so I’ll write a bit more. *wants to actually finish at least the first episode*
(No scene change from last bit. Randomosity runs in, out of breath.)
Randomosity: Oh, thank the Muses it’s you two!
Speller: Randomosity? Who did you think we were?
Randomosity: There was a small furry thing. It was chasing me. I’m sure it was going to attack me then become a living parasite and seize my major neural functions while meanwhile preying on my body until eventually I am reduced to a weak, mindless zombie!
Speller: Whoa. Calm down big time. Small and furry you say?
Randomosity: Yes. Very furry.
Speller: (to Alice) I think your little attacker has friends. (She picks up the carcass.) Might as well take a look at it.
(The three girls walk towards the castle. As soon as it is decently lit, Alice speaks.)
Alice: It looks like a bunny… but it’s hot pink.
Randomosity: Oh, that’s cute!
Speller: It attacked Alice and was about to attack you.
Randomosity: OK, not so cute.
((This is starting to sound like “Buffy, the Bunny Slayer.”))
((I guess so in the overall plot. If I ever get past the first episode, I’m hoping to have a bit more variety. As in, the overall goal is to stop the bunnies, but it will focus more on the rivalry between the two schools in general.))
(Somebody really should write a “Buffy: The Bunny Slayer” story.)
((Buffy/Muse crossover? I’ll do it at some point. And Buffy the Bunny Slayer sounds even sillier than Buffy normally does.))
((How about “Bunny the Vampire Slayer”? Buffy could be out on a stake-out (so to speak) when…
))
(( :lol:))
((Hmm… Willow’s mother accidentally calls Buffy Bunny in one episode… Maybe that’s the secret to the whole Slayer thing.))
((15- I have two bunnies with funny accents fighting a “vamporer” (that they created, ironically) on the SSSS thread.
Oh, look. More deer just ran right by my window. *unrelated*))
i can not think of anything!
((OK, I’m taking the Buffy the Bunny Slayer idea and starting a Muse/Buffy crossover fic. It’s set early 4th season.))
“I don’t know, Xander. I’m just a little weirded out by your new girlfriend,” said Willow, settling down on Xander’s couch.
“Hey, you’re dating a werewolf and you’re going to bug me about dating a thousand-year-old vengeance demon?” He paused. “OK, you’ve got a point. So?”
“Anya’s fine… She’s great, even,” added Buffy. “But she doesn’t act… human. What she’s afraid of… what she’s not afraid of… It’s not rational.”
“And you’d not know anything about loving a non-human,” Xander said. “But Anya’s human now. And what’s so weird about what she’s afraid of?”
They were cut off as Anya came into the basement. There was a silence before Xander finally asked, “So Anya, what are you afraid of?”
Immediately, Anya said, “Bunnies. They terrify me.”
Buffy began to laugh before receiving sharp looks from Willow and Xander. She abruptly stopped, saying “I’m not saying anything.”
Willow said, “Anya, I totally understand your fear of bunnies. After all, bunnies are pretty scary with the being all cute and fuzzy, and maybe I don’t understand it.”
Anya said, “Xander! I knew your friends wouldn’t understand. They’re stupid, never understanding anything.”
“Now, Anya, we don’t say that people are stupid to their faces,” said Xander. “Especially if said people are college students, and you are not.”
“But they are stupid… And bunnies are scary… Especially hot pink ones.”
“Hot pink ones? Now I’m saying something,” said Buffy. “Anya, you inflicted unspeakable horrors for generations, but you can’t stand hot pink bunnies?”
“They’re scary. See for yourself.”
To be continued…
I am really going to post the first part of the fanfic now. Really.
Kaiulani looked around nervously. She was in the waiting room of the doctor she’d heard about who specializes in unusual abilities. Well her abilities were certainly unusual. Like how she assembled a hand-held radar out of a disassembled calculator and several computer parts. Or that time when that guy walked suddenly into her peripheral vision and before she could even think, she’d kicked him in the stomach. At least I didn’t actually hurt him. She thought. She was getting more worried by the second, so she decided to talk to the person in front of her to calm her nerves.
“Hi. I’m Kaiulani Yves-Cousteau. What’s your name?”
The tall, artificially blue-haired girl looked her up and down. “I’m Leslie. Leslie B. Kenely. So, what are you doing here? You don’t seem unusually talented.”
“I can make gadgets out of almost anything and I have uncontrollably fast reflexes.” She said, starting to get annoyed. “What about you?”
“Ah, nothing much. I just recently found out that I can grow wings and fly.†Said Leslie, managing to look smug and condescending at the same time.
“Ah, don’t worry about Leslie over there.†Said a brown-haired girl in a chair nearby. “She’s just showing off again. My name’s Errata.â€
“Hi, Errata.†Said Kaiulani, glad to be talking to someone nicer. “Why are you here?â€
“I can make things lighter.†She said. “Which comes in handy sometimes.â€
“I’ll bet.†Said Kaiulani.
Just then, a red-haired girl ran into the room yelling “The cake is a lie! The cake is a lie!†What looked like a doorway appeared in the far wall, and the screaming girl ran headlong into it, falling backwards as she smacked into it, not too badly concussed. The fake image of the door dissipated as she hit the ground.
“Wha?!?†Kaiulani asked, now seriously worried.
“Oh, Sidra shut up.†Said another newcomer, this one with light brown hair. She turned to the others in the room. “Oh sorry, I’m Margaret. That’s Sidra Raye. She’s a crazy girl who can make illusions.â€
“Me make people see what I see!†Giggled Sidra.
“And what can you do?†asked Kaiulani.
“I can manipulate fire, a little. I can’t start it or put it out, though.â€
Just then, a strange man who looked more like a guard than a doctor’s assistant entered the room. “Doctor Mira will see you now.†He said.
“Which one of us?†Asked Margaret.
“All of you.†He replied. “Come with me.â€
Kaiulani started getting nervous again. They followed the man into a large room, with a red-haired woman was standing. The first thing Kaiulani noticed about her was her crazy hairdo. On one side it was shoulder-length; on the other it was practically a buzz-cut.
“My name is Mira.†She said. “Recently, you all have discovered strange abilities, correct?â€
They collectively mumbled a “yesâ€.
“For instance, you Leslie, can grow wings and fly and even turn into a dragon.†Said Mira.
“I can turn into a dragon?†She asked, “I only knew I could grow wings.â€
“And Errata,†Mira continued, “You can manipulate gravity.â€
“You mean I can make stuff heavier too? Sweet!†She responded.
“And Sidra, you can create illusions and shape-shift.†Mira said.
“Me make you see what I see!†She yelled, and then added, “Cake!â€
“Margaret, you can control fire.†Mira said, still smiling from Sidra’s remark.
“I know, isn’t it cool?†She grinned.
“And finally, Kaiulani. You have an innate knowledge of gadgetry and superhumanly fast reflexes.†Mira turned to look at her.
“Yeah, but I can’t control those reflexes.†Said Kaiulani uncertainly.
“Don’t worry. That will come with practice.†Said Mira dismissively. “Now, you may be wondering why you have these powers. I’m going to start off by saying that each of you was adopted. You probably already know this, and are wondering why I bring it up. You are not like other people. You are genetically engineered mutants I created to serve people.â€
There was a collective “Wait, what the heck?!?â€
“I made each of you from my own homemade genetic templates. I put you each into normal families so I could make sure your abilities kicked in properly. It worked well, so I will now give you each to the people I created you to serve. I’m selling you to pre-ordering customers. Kaiulani will work for the CIA, Leslie will work for the Air Force, Errata will work for NASA, Margaret for the Forest Rangers, and Sidra will work for a magician.â€
“Wait, a magician?†Someone asked.
“Yes. He was the boss of someone named Era Winters. He said that giving him an illusionist for free would pay off the debt of killing her with the Portal cake. I think what happened was I didn’t add enough rhubarb. Anyway, those will be your masters for the rest of your lives.â€
“But what if we don’t want to work for them?†Asked Leslie testily.
Mira smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t have a choice. I’m implanting obedience triggers into all of you. You won’t be able to disobey.†She reached behind her and pulled out a large hypodermic needle. “Who’s first?â€
“No way.†Said Leslie. “I’m outta here.†She turned into a dragon. “Huh, I guess I really can turn into a dragon.†She remarked just before starting to fly away.
She didn’t get far, though, before Mira yelled, “Not so fast! Agents! Detain them!â€
Out jumped four guards, including the one who escorted us in. They started toward the mutants.
Before they could get far, Errata said “Ah-ah-ah!†And the agents were hovering just under the ceiling. “Let’s go!†She said. “I’ll be able to keep them like this until we leave the building, but after that I’ll have to let them go.â€
All the mutants ran out of the building, even Sidra, as behind them Mira screamed, “I’ll get you, my creations! Just wait! I will make you into obedient little servants if it’s the last thing I do!â€
((Forrest rangers
Margaret does have pyromaniac tendencies… That would be interesting.))
I could do a Hetalia/Muse crossover…
With the Muses representing their own respective countries!
Except for Koko. He’ll be representing Kokonino County.
And Urania. She’s Mount Olympus.
(and Crraw isn’t representing Chicago.)
I don’t think Chad would be Chad very well. (If that makes sense)
But Chad’s from Mali… (whatever; it doesn’t really matter anyway.)
17- Demons are afraid of HPBs… eek.
18- A magician. I cracked up when I read that last part.
It’s a running joke on the show that Anya is afraid of bunnies. It’s like they just wanted me to write this fic.
20.1- I feel embarassed for not knowing more about Buffy now. I read a few Wiki articles and her description in The Superhero Encyclopedia, but that’s it.
21 – It’s okay. Most people don’t know anything beyond blonde girl killing vampires.
I’ll continue then…
It was another Tuesday night, and Buffy was patrolling. Suddenly, she heard a loud noise in the bushes.
“You know, you vampires might want to work on the whole stealth thing. Bushes are never- You’re not a vampire, are you?”
Indeed, the noisy creature was not a vampire. In fact, it appeared to be a bunny. And as far as Buffy could tell from the streetlights, the bunny was hot pink. It also appeared to have abnormally sharp teeth.
“Well, bunnies usually aren’t on the list of top ten big bads, but if something with pointy teeth jumps out at me, it is my sacred duty to introduce him to Mr. Pointy,” she said as she staked the bunny. It twitched for a second and then died.
Buffy thought about the mystery of the bunny for a minute. She had never been taught about an evil bunny demon as far as she could remember, but something about hot pink bunnies rang a bell. “Anya,” she whispered.
I like. This could be quite interesting.
((Write more, Radomosity! I’m dying of anticipation here! P*ease!))
22- Is the Buffy thing part of the other fanfic you were posting? *is confuzzled*
23 – Alright LBK, I’m working on the next part right now.
Oh no. Nothing to do with my MA fic. Somebody mentioned Buffy the Bunny Slayer, so I started a crossover. I’ll finish it soon and go back to MA.
Next part of the Mutants story.
The mutants ran halfway down the block; then Leslie turned into a dragon to carry Sidra, who had fallen behind. Errata decreased the pull of gravity on all of them so that they would not tire out as quickly. They continued to run as passerby stared. They ran until they had to stop, even with less gravitational pull.
“Dang it!†Said Errata, panting heavily. “Where’s the abandoned warehouse? In the movies there’s always an abandoned warehouse.â€
“This isn’t a movie.†Said Leslie.
“I know, I’m just desperate. We gotta find a way to keep them from finding us.†Errata responded.
“What about Sidra?†Asked Kaiulani.
“Good idea, she can make it impossible for people to see us.†Said Margaret. “Hey, Sidra! Can you make us look like a tree?â€
“Tree?†giggled Sidra, who hadn’t run most of the way, and had more energy than the rest of them. “Yepsie-cake!â€
A weird shimmering light surrounded the mutants. A few exchanged a look meaning so this is what it’s like to be inside an illusion.
A little while later, Mira’s agents went around handing out flyers. They told people to look out for Kaiulani, Errata, Leslie, Sidra and Margaret. They claimed that the secret police force they worked for was looking for them. One of the flyers fell under the illusory tree. The pictures were of poor resolution, and the only recognizable feature of the mutants was their clothes.
“When did they get the chance to photograph us?†Asked Margaret.
“Probably when we were in the waiting room.†Said Errata. “Anyway, we need to get some new clothes.â€
“Sidra make new clothes.†Said Sidra, and immediately each mutant appeared to be dressed in clothes that each one personally would never have worn in a million years, each with a picture of cake somewhere on the top.
“Thanks, Sidra.†Said Errata, ignoring the horrible taste in fashion.
“Ugh, I look like a pink rabbit threw up on me.†Said Leslie.
“At least they won’t know who we are.†Said Kaiulani.
“They also have our names.†Said Margaret. “We should come up with new ones.â€
“We get our own mutant codenames? Sweet!†Said Kaiulani. “I’ll be, umm… Aero. I always liked that name.â€
“I can be Flyte.†Said Leslie.
“I’ll be Fyira.†Said Margaret.
“Me cakiddy-Kitsune!†said Sidra.
“I can be Gravitas.†Said Errata.
“Good, now that that’s settled we should go shopping.†Said the newly named Fyira “I don’t know how long Sidra will keep up these illusions, and K- I mean – Aero and I will need some supplies.â€
They walked to the nearest clothing store, while the fake tree dissipated behind them. Aero bought them each a new outfit, which they changed into in the restrooms. After prompting from Margaret, Sidra stopped projecting illusory clothes. They then went to a technology store and got Aero some calculators and computer parts. Finally, they went to a sporting goods/camping store to get Fyira some matches and a water canteen.
“What do we do now?†Asked Aero. “Where will we live?â€
“In the movies, there’s always a cave in the mountains or something.†Said Gravitas. “But this isn’t a movie. Maybe we could get a tent and live in a campground?â€
“Works for me.†Said Aero.
After getting the tent and five sleeping bags, the mutants found a nice campground at the edge of the city, where they bunked down for the night.
((My only problem is that you’re representing Sidra as a little stupid. She’s just insane, and not that totally obsessed with cake. (She’s a bit like a little kid who’s been given several cups of coffee, but she’s very smart.)))
OK. Sorry.
I like it! Fiyra with matches… this will get very combustible very soon, I bet.
You’re doing good with Leslie, though. Keep it up!
I’m much cooler in this. Me likeys.
Very good, just remember that Kaiulani abbreviates her name to Kai when being informal.
Not strictly Muse fanfiction, but certainly fanfiction, of two Muserly and most Britannic works of fiction. (I haven’t given up on Omega, I promise!)
~
The fire did not roar, or crackle, or blaze, but limped along with a sick, despondent air. It had been fed on wet wood and river sludge, and lit by a cigarette butt. It couldn’t aspire to burning down even a quite small convenience store.
The figures huddled around it, however, were glad of its meager warmth. It was a bitterly cold winter; even the river Ankh had frozen over, which was unusual, as it was daily fed by the steaming contents of a thousand privies and slop buckets. They sat, and sipped what had to be called “tea,” as it was too thin to be mud and not thick enough to be motor oil.
“Saxon,” one of them said eventually, as if tasting the name. He had a duck on his head, although he continually denied this. “Heard anything about him?”
His compatriots kept up their barrage of spitting noises and generalized muttering. Foul Ole Ron’s odor developed a few interesting overtones that nobody else noticed; their noses had long since shut down in self-defense. The dog curled near the fire scratched an ear.
After a moment, though, Altogether Andrews turned his head. The Duck Man recognized the bearing and the vaguely aristocratic expression. It could only mean that Lady Hermione was currently the dominant personality in Andrews’s crowded brain.
“Ae newcomer,” the Lady said. “He does not seem to understand how things work in Ankh-Morpork. He is… trying to make himself… king?”
The Duck Man thought. He was more intellectual than the rest of the crew, in the same way that oysters are more intellectual than, say, krill, but there were some concepts that the people of Ankh-Morpork had lost touch with.
“No, he’s… he’s running for Patrician.”
“Running? You mean… like a race?”
“No, he’s trying to get himself elected.”
(TO BE CONTINUED. NOT OVER.)
Wasn’t I going to work with you on this? Should I post anything?
This is the scene where the Doctor arrives for the first time. I’ll finish this, and then you can write as you wish.
“E-what?”
“Elected… it means, like… where the people say he’s Patrician… and so he’s Patrician…” The Duck Man was floundering.
Lady Hermione laughed, a polite little chuckle. “Our political leaders would never have gotten anywhere if they had listened to the people.”
The Duck Man nodded sadly and took another gulp of the almost-tea.
A sudden breeze shifted the sluggish fumes hovering over the river and ruffled the feathers of the duck perching on his head. The Smell of Foul Ole Ron blew with it, dancing out in a trail toward the river. A low-flying pigeon dropped into the mud as if struck by a hammer. The dog at Ron’s feet, however, stood up and pointed, ears quivering.
RRRRNNNNNNNT. It was a noise like a key scraped down the strings of a piano in the middle of an echo chamber full of ghosts. Further down the bank, away from the Misbegot Bridge, a strange light flared and winked off.
RRRRRNNNNNNTT. The second one was even louder. Most of the Canting Crew sat up and took notice (with the exception of Arnold Sideways, who had no legs). A vague, blocky shape began to appear, half-submerged in the mud.
RRRRRRNNNNNTT. RRRRRRNNNNNNTT. RRRRRRRNNNTT. Dead leaves swirled in a sudden windstorm as a blue box materialized beside the river.
A man was clinging to it, white-knuckled. His face bore a special expression that the beggars recognized; they’d often seen it in Andrews’s more unpleasant fugues. He looked like a man who wants more than anything else in the world to shut his eyes but has had them glued open.
Then they did shut, and he pitched backward off the box and into the mud with a splat.
The Crew stared, then shrugged as one man.
“Bloody wizards,” Sideways Arnold commented. “Always doing somefing…”
The door cracked open, spilling light into the reeking mist. A skinny fellow in a brown trench coat stepped out, apparently in mid-argument.
“…not like yanking the hand brake, Martha! We’re in unknown reaches of space and time right now. This is not where we’re supposed to be!”
“You said he could die out there!” A woman, presumably Martha, followed him out of the box. She looked Genuan, or perhaps Howondalander, but her accent was pure Morpork. She immediately bent down beside the dead man and began looking him over.
“Well, for him, that’s sort of a non-issue-” the man in the coat replied, but broke off as he noticed the beggars. “Hello! Sorry, we’ll be out of your hair in just a minute!”
There were many things in the hair of the Canting Crew, of which the duck was the least, and they weren’t familiar with the expression. They continued drinking from their improvised mugs. The dog stood up and trotted over with a curious expression, sniffing.
Not even his sensitive nose could have detected the other watcher, who was staring with keen interest at the man on the ground.
~~~
Captain Jack Harkness blinked, and stood up, brushing off his trench coat. “Phew! That was a bit of a rough ride, Doctor- are you sure you didn’t leave the brakes on?”
He looked around for the first time. Black sand stretched away under his feet. There was no sign of the TARDIS.
HELLO, JACK HARKNESS.
Jack blinked. He was fairly certain that the skeleton in the dark cloak hadn’t been there before. He took in various details at a glance: scythe, hourglasses, blue glow in the sockets…
“Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?”
The skeleton looked down at its outfit, then back at him. I HAD THOUGHT IT WOULD BE OBVIOUS.
“Well, just because you look like Death doesn’t mean you are. Met a girl who looked like an angel once, but she certainly-”
Without fanfare, there was an… object on the sand beside him.
It was the size of a large office building. It had loops and twists. It had corkscrews. It had intersections where two trails of sand crossed one another, groups of twenty or more tubes of glass whirled together in complex knots, sand falling upwards and downwards and sideways in an intricate, never-ending dance.
It was unmistakably an hourglass. There was a name engraved on one colossal flank. It was not Captain Jack Harkness, but the man who called himself Jack Harkness knew it well. It was the name his brother had called before losing his grip on his hand, before he was lost to the terrors attacking the Peninsula.
YOU ARE AN ANOMALY, JACK HARKNESS.
Captain Jack sighed. “Tell me about it.”
Apparently Terry Pratchett dislikes Doctor Who.
If he ever finds this, I will be glad of my anonymity.
he doesn’t -dislike- it, as far as i know, he just questions its status as science fiction
Well, of course it’s not science fiction.
Well…it’s soft to the level of fantasy, but it involves SPACE. And TIME TRAVEL. And ROBOTS. And sometimes it has things like futuristic Earth scientists in space. So it can’t really be termed fantasy either, because these are all science fiction-y things. So it’s kind of in an uncomfortable No-Man’s Land between sci-fi and fantasy.
How about we call it “the temporal fantastic” instead?
You still have to deal with the space and robots. And the fact that sometimes it TRIES to be sci-fi, which no self-respecting fantasy would ever do.
So, this is a Star Trek: TNG and Doctor Who crossover script. Opinions, please!
(SETTING: The Borg Cube. RIKER, DATA and WORF are exploring the Borg Cube during Q Who. They are right before they turn the corner into the Borg nursery. Suddenly, MARTHA JONES yells quietly)
MARTHA: Ohmigosh! (quieter, in the background) Doctor, look at this!
(RIKER, DATA, and WORF get their phasers out and run over to the Borg nursery.)
(THE DOCTOR and Martha are bending over, looking at something (The Borg baby in the nursery). They talk quietly, slide the baby back in. Martha stands with The Doctor as he begins to scan the area with his sonic screwdriver. He then notices Riker, Data and Worf.)
THE DOCTOR: Hi! (Smiles and continues scanning)
RIKER: Uh… Hi. Who are you?
THE DOCTOR: I’m The Doctor, this is Martha. (Martha waves)
RIKER: How did you get on the Borg vessel?
THE DOCTOR: Just came on my ship.
RIKER: What are you doing?
THE DOCTOR: Scanning. And, I really recommend you don’t distract me anymore. If I was to let my concentration slip, we could be crushed by half of this ship collapsing on us.
(Riker, Data and Worf wait awkwardly.)
THE DOCTOR: (Scanning) Now that is really interesting… Martha, come look at this. (Martha walks over) Now, you remember the baby you saw? Well, it’s part of a collective intelligence. Every living thing in this place has the same mind. Except us. (Looking over at Riker, Data, and Worf.) And them. (Puts away sonic screwdriver)
RIKER: If I may ask, what are you doing here?
THE DOCTOR: Just exploring. (Beat) You don’t believe that?
RIKER: No, not really. How did you two manage to get on here without being noticed?
THE DOCTOR: I’m clever like that. What are you three doing here?
RIKER: Our ship was attacked by the Borg.
THE DOCTOR: Really? And you just walk in here, like that’s a good idea?
WORF: Our captain gave us orders to explore the ship. Who sent you here?
THE DOCTOR: Just came by ourselves.
RIKER: And you did you have any idea what you were walking into?
THE DOCTOR: Nope. (Grins)
(DATA has been scanning them with a tricorder for sometime)
DATA: (To Riker) The female is human.
MARTHA: “The female� I have a name, you know!
THE DOCTOR: (To Martha) He’s an android. (DATA looks surprised at him.) What, you think I didn’t notice?
DATA: No, but most people don’t know what androids look like.
THE DOCTOR: Almost everyone knows what you look like! You inspire a whole generation of androids! Millions are based off of your design! (Riker, Data, and Worf look at him oddly.) That hasn’t happened yet? (TNG people shake heads nervously) Oops.
RIKER: I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have pressing business to attend to. We need to find out about the Borg.
THE DOCTOR: You want information? I have plenty of information. They have a single mind, they are able to repair their ship using their own life- (Is suddenly cut off by explosion) My screwdriver must have set that off! Bad screwdriver. (Another explosion, which is closer. Knocks out Martha, injures The Doctor)
RIKER: Five to beam up. Full security team, and Medical staff.
GEORDI: (Over com) Five?
RIKER: We found some unexpected guests.
THE DOCTOR: Wait, five?! (Is beamed up with everyone)
(SETTING: Transport pad. All five people materialize on it)
THE DOCTOR: What did you do that for?!
RIKER: You were in danger back on the Borg Cube.
THE DOCTOR: (Voice goes squeaky) My ship’s back there!
RIKER: We can arrange a shuttlecraft to take you to you ship.
THE DOCTOR: My ship’s in the Borg Cube!
RIKER: (Getting off the pad) Did they capture it or something?
THE DOCTOR: I wouldn’t be that stupid. I landed it there.
RIKER: How do you land an entire space ship inside that?
(Security team comes in. Picard as well.)
RIKER: Ah, captain. This is The Doctor and this is Martha.
PICARD: What were you doing on the Borg ship?
THE DOCTOR: Just exploring. (Seeing Picard’s disbelieving expression) What? Why does nobody believe that we were just exploring?
((Hey, Randomosity? Are you working on the next part? *sounds like a parent/teacher*))
((RANDOMOSITY!!! BLOGSTER!!!! RETURN!!! *pulls Randomosity over so she can write more*
(27) Enceladus: Love it! Especially when the Doctor’s voice goes squeaky.
Thanks! I’ll write more… soon… ish.
(SETTING: The Borg Cube. RIKER, DATA and WORF are exploring the Borg Cube during Q Who. They are right before they turn the corner into the Borg nursery. Suddenly, MARTHA JONES yells quietly)
MARTHA: Ohmigosh! (quieter, in the background) Doctor, look at this!
(RIKER, DATA, and WORF get their phasers out and run over to the Borg nursery.)
(THE DOCTOR and Martha are bending over, looking at something (The Borg baby in the nursery). They talk quietly, slide the baby back in. Martha stands with The Doctor as he begins to scan the area with his sonic screwdriver. He then notices Riker, Data and Worf.)
THE DOCTOR: Hi! (Smiles and continues scanning)
RIKER: Uh… Hi. If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?
THE DOCTOR: I’m The Doctor, this is Martha. (Martha waves)
RIKER: The Doctor? Doctor who?
THE DOCTOR: I’m just The Doctor.
RIKER: How did you get on this Borg vessel?
THE DOCTOR: Just came on my ship.
RIKER: What are you doing?
THE DOCTOR: Scanning. And, I really recommend you don’t distract me anymore. If I was to let my concentration slip, we could be crushed by half of this ship collapsing on us.
(Riker, Data and Worf wait awkwardly.)
THE DOCTOR: (Scanning) Now, that is really interesting… Martha, come look at this. (Martha walks over) Now, you remember the baby you saw? Well, it’s part of a collective intelligence. Every living thing in this place has the same mind. Except us. (Looking over at Riker, Data, and Worf.) And them. (Puts away sonic screwdriver)
RIKER: If I may ask, what are you doing here?
THE DOCTOR: Just exploring. (Beat) You don’t believe that?
RIKER: No, I don’t. How did you two manage to get on here without being noticed?
THE DOCTOR: I’m clever like that. What are you three doing here?
RIKER: Our ship was attacked by the Borg.
THE DOCTOR: Really? And you just walk in here, like that’s a good idea?
WORF: Our captain gave us orders to explore the ship. Who sent you here?
THE DOCTOR: Just came by ourselves.
RIKER: And you did you have any idea what you were walking into?
THE DOCTOR: Nope. (Grins)
(DATA has been scanning them with a tricorder for sometime)
DATA: (To Riker) The female is human.
MARTHA: “The female� I have a name, you know!
THE DOCTOR: (To Martha) He’s an android. (DATA looks surprised at him.) What, you think I didn’t notice?
DATA: No, but most people don’t know what androids look like.
THE DOCTOR: Almost everyone knows what you look like! You inspire a whole generation of androids! Millions are based off of your design! (Riker, Data, and Worf look at him oddly.) That hasn’t happened yet? (TNG people shake heads nervously) Oops.
RIKER: I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have pressing business to attend to. We need to find out about the Borg.
THE DOCTOR: You want information? I have plenty of information. They have a single mind, they are able to repair their ship using their own life- (Is suddenly cut off by explosion) My screwdriver must have set that off! Bad screwdriver. (Another explosion, which is closer. Knocks out Martha, injures The Doctor)
RIKER: Five to beam up. Full security team, and Medical staff.
GEORDI: (Over com) Five?
RIKER: We found some unexpected guests.
THE DOCTOR: Wait, five?! (Is beamed up with everyone)
(SETTING: Transport pad. All five people materialize on it)
THE DOCTOR: What did you do that for?!
RIKER: You were in danger back on the Borg Cube.
THE DOCTOR: (Voice goes squeaky) My ship’s back there!
RIKER: We can arrange a shuttlecraft to take you to you ship.
THE DOCTOR: My ship’s in the Borg Cube!
RIKER: (Getting off the pad) Did they capture it or something?
THE DOCTOR: I wouldn’t be that stupid. I landed it there.
RIKER: How do you land an entire space ship inside that?
(Security team comes in, and medical staff.)
THE DOCTOR: Beam us back, now- (Crusher sedates him, he slumps over in her arms)
(SETTING: Sickbay. The Doctor and Martha are both still sedated. Picard is entering.)
BEVERLY CRUSHER: Captain, I’d like you to take a look at these patients.
PICARD: Is there anything interesting about them?
BEVERLY CRUSHER: Yes, in fact. There is. (Walks over to Martha)
CRUSHER: This one, I don’t know her name-
PICARD: I believe Riker informed me her name is “Marthaâ€.
CRUSHER: Well, I took a sample of her DNA, and it does not match any citizen of the Federation.
PICARD: Could she be a rouge?
CRUSHER: I find that a very unlikely possibility, captain. There haven’t been any reported cases of rouges for a very long time. And, when I ran a full scan of her body, her face has not been recorded in any modern databases.
PICARD: So, there is no record at all of that woman?
CRUSHER: I didn’t say any databases, I said modern databases. There are pictures of her from the early 21st century.
PICARD: It must be her ancestor or something like that.
CRUSHER: I’ll show them to you. (Leads Picard to computer and pulls up and image from the Lazarus incident, at the party.) It looks exactly like her.
PICARD: That’s impossible! She couldn’t have lived for over 300 years!
CRUSHER: It gets stranger. There is recorded evidence of a Martha Jones who matches her description, living and working in London in the early 21st century.
PICARD: What about the other person, I think Riker called him “The Doctor�
CRUSHER: He is more mysterious that Martha. He’s not human!
PICARD: Well, there are many species that look similar to humans-
CRUSHER: He isn’t of any recorded species. We have never encountered his kind before.
PICARD: So we could potentially be dealing with a first contact situation.
(They walk over to The Doctor, who is beginning to wake up.)
THE DOCTOR: Oh, my head. Is Martha alright?
CRUSHER: Your female companion? Yes, she’s recovered quite well.
THE DOCTOR: When she wakes up, can you beam us back to the Borg cube?
PICARD: We have some questions for you first. What species are you?
THE DOCTOR: I’m a Time Lord.
PICARD: I asked for your species, not your position in society.
THE DOCTOR: That is my species.
PICARD: Your species is called Time Lord?
THE DOCTOR: What can I say? They’re pompous.
PICARD: What planet do they live on?
THE DOCTOR: They don’t.
PICARD: What do you mean? Where were you born?
THE DOCTOR: Gallifrey. But it’s gone now.
PICARD: What do you mean, gone? An entire planet can’t disappear.
THE DOCTOR: It didn’t disappear. It burned. In a war.
PICARD: Where do the rest of the Time Lords live now?
THE DOCTOR: They don’t. I’m the last of the Time Lords.
CRUSHER: You mean that there are no more of your kind left?
THE DOCTOR: I couldn’t very well be the last of the Time Lords if there were still some around. Now, can you please beam us back to the Borg Cube?
PICARD: I’m sorry, but that is not possible right now. This is a first contact situa-
THE DOCTOR: No, it’s not. Martha and many other humans have met me before. An entire organization was founded because of me. I even joined an organization similar to it.
MARTHA: (Who is beginning to wake) Uh… Where am I?
(Crusher and Picard walk over to her.)
PICARD: I’m Captain Picard, captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You’re in our sickbay.
MARTHA: Can you take us back to our ship?
PICARD: I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. Now, who are you?
MARTHA: I’m Martha Jones. What year is it?
CRUSHER: It’s Stardate 42761.3-
MARTHA: English, please.
THE DOCTOR: Around the 24th century.
PICARD: There’s another problem with sending you back to your ship. We fear it may have been compromised by the Borg.
THE DOCTOR: No, they haven’t been able to compromise it. It’s protected by a tribophysical waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator.
CRUSHER: What?
PICARD: (Hitting Intercom) Data! What is a quote tribophysical waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator unquote?
DATA: (Over Intercom) It is a theoretical device which uses energy around it in order to create a nearly impermeable shield. It is not currently possible, as it would require an energy source at least as large as the universe.
PICARD: (To The Doctor) I’m afraid that your shield won’t work.
THE DOCTOR: Oh, but my energy source is as large as the universe. In fact, it is the universe.
I rewrote some of it, so that it meshed better.
((Might as well get back to my crossover.))
Buffy knocked one more time just for good measure. She heard Giles call, “Buffy, I heard you the first seven times”, as he opened the door, looking rather bedraggled. “This better be important. I did not give you permission to stop by my flat at any hour of the night.”
“You didn’t? I never realized that,” said Buffy.
“Ha ha, very funny. Now either you have a reason why you’re here or I’d really like to get back to sleep.”
“There’s trouble. Bunny-ish trouble. You don’t know anything about demonic bunnies, do you? Particularly hot pink ones.”
Giles laughed. “Demonic bunnies… You know, if you’re going to make up joke demons, you could really do it at a more reasonable hour.”
“I didn’t make them up. I was just attacked by a hot pink bunny. The corpse is probably somewhere in the cemetary.”
“Buffy, are you sure that you’re not under some curse? I highly doubt that hot pink bunny was attacking you.”
“Ask Anya. You know, Xander’s new girlfriend. She mentioned something about them earlier today.”
“Well, I suppose we’ll get her over here in the morning. In the meantime, if you really want to be prepared for these…” He chuckled. “Hot pink bunnies, you’d better get some rest.”
I think it’s safe to predict that Giles won’t be laughing the next time we see him.
Because a friend of mine insisted that writing about your joke characters in a semi-serious manner is a good way to build your writing skill, I wrote this monologue-exposition thingy for Arthur from my parody piece “Earthlight”:
So I’m the first of us to make it into the astronaut program, but there wasn’t really much competition for that role. Most of us are too old and too uninterested in new technology. I wanted to apply even before I was turned.
That was horrible. I was flying a Starfighter- great name, terrible jet- out of Edwards, and the engine stalled. Nothing to do but eject, but the ejection seats they put on Starfighters back in those days were junk. Oh, it shot out me of the plane, alright. It shot me down, towards the ground. Junk. There wasn’t time for the chute to open all the way. I hit the ground hard, I was barely alive when that thing crawled up. A chupacabra, that’s Spanish for stupid little scaly, butt-ugly, dinosaur dog desert thing. Two feet tall, covered in patchy gray scales with red eyes. They crawl out of some pit in Sunnydale and head straight for the desert. The nasty little varmint knew I was just alive enough to give it blood. I was hardly conscious when it bit me, thought it was all some crazy dying dream. It ran off when the recovery team finally got there.
I made a full recovery, they said it was miraculous how fast I healed. It was a while before I realized what that thing had been and that the only reason I wasn’t dead was that I was undead, ‘crazy as that sounds. Test pilots were getting killed every day back then, being immortal was a real benefit. I kept it quiet at first, snuck blood the hospital had for transfusions, never too much, didn’t want to hurt anybody. Coming up with an explanation for being sparkly was the hard part.
And then came Project Mercury. To be an astronaut, to go where nobody had ever gone before, that’s what I wanted. And they were recruiting right from our pool at Edwards. I got a recommendation pretty easily, ever since being turned I’d pushed the envelope and taken the risky jobs with no hesitation. The tests were hard, even for us, some of the things those doctors came up with were even worse than the chupacabra bite. They learned what I was, but they kept it hushed and only told the people who needed to know.
I never would have believed it, but the program was crawlin’ with supernaturals. Oberth, one of the German guys doing the rocketry stuff, was a vampire too, but not like me, none of this half-breed sparkly chupacabra stuff. He was the honest-to-god Hammer Horror type, from a bloodline straight out of Transylvania. And von Braun, the pitch-hitter? From a whole family of hunters that went back hundreds of years, but the enlightened kind, not the stake-everything-that-moves kind. His family had been protecting the benevolent supernaturals and putting the bad ones in their place since the Middle Ages. His grandfather worked with van Helsing and his dad had helped put Nosferatsu away. He knew what I was the minute I stepped into the briefing room, hunters have a sort of sixth sense like that.
So I learned a lot, worked hard, wanted to serve my country, but it turns out that even with all those eldritch skills, some guys were just better and had more of The Right Stuff. Not that I was bitter, I hung out with all of the seven they did pick, and I was all around Titusville during the whole Apollo era. We still hang out, I’m always teasing Glenn because we’re the same age but I look so much better. I went back to work, of course, changed my name after a while when it looked like I was getting too old, but I kept on doing what I did best- flyin’ jets. Oh, flying the shuttle would have been a thrill, but I just kept missing the cut.
Not that it was all bad. It turned out most of the rocket club our German guys had been in had been hunters back in Europe as a side hobby, packing silver bullets with their gyrostabilizers. Now von Braun was too busy to get directly involved most of the time, but he still had some contacts and kept his eyes and ears open for any serious disturbances. And that’s where I came in. I went on all sorts of missions, helping hunters, taking down monsters, doing lots of traveling, it was good. Most of it’s still classified, like how I know chupacabras come from Sunnydale, but all I can say is you should thank me for what I did. And while I saw a lot of nasty supernaturals, I also met some great ones, like Ivan.
Great guy, even in human form he gives one heck of a bear hug. He’s an ursus metamorph if you want to be technically, but everybody calls him a were-bear. We finally got in at the same time, and thank god it’s not like the old days, so that we can actually serve together. Ivan’s girlfriend, Naoko, she’s cool. A metamorph like him, but a kitsune, which is a blessed were-fox with some pretty nifty magical powers from what she tells me. One of those powers includes being great with computers, which is why JAXA values her as much as it does. If we’re lucky enough to have an all-supernatural crew for Mars, that’d really be something.
You know, if I wasn’t so busy, I might just ix-nay the Twilight parody stuff and write Arthur a cool story about being a non-sparkly vampire secret agent pilot.
This will not lead to anything, it’s just an elaboration on a random idea. Maybe somebody else will do more with it, I freely release all rights to the concept:
Panting, the boy pulled himself from the harbor. He had gone almost numb swimming across the cold waters, and he could barely feel his fingers as he pulled himself into a kneeling position.
Sergei, what have you gotten yourself into this time? Frostbite, hypothermia… these are no laughing matter, what if they have to amputate my hands like those mountain climbers in the newspaper… Or what if I die outright? What if I just fall down and-
The soaked boy looked up, and instantly forgot all of his complaints. Beyond the barbed-wire fence was the reason he had been insane enough to brave the harbor in the freezing winter. He stood up slowly, with the aid of his near-numb left hand. Coffee-colored mud now decorated the knees of the boy’s tan pants, but he no longer cared as he advanced step by careful step towards the fleet of biplanes that lay beyond the fence. The red stars painted on their wings looked as if the paint had just dried, and he could see metallic dials and gauges glinting in the cockpit of the nearest plane.
Oh, if he could only touch those controls, pull back the throttle, take off into the sky… It would be so wonderful to turn flips and loops, to fly down over the water and then back home, or, inversely, to fly up higher and higher, above the buildings, past the clouds, until the sky turned black, until the stars came out in daytime, until he could see the moon and planets-
He clung to the fence, willing with all his might that it would disappear so he could fulfill at least part of his dream. His original plan had been to climb the fence, but he felt far too weak from the swim to do that, the cold was beginning to catch up with him again even as he stood there. The boy clutched at his shirt, hugging himself to keep warm as he collapsed onto his knees.
“I don’t want to die. Not here. Not before I’ve flown.†He whispered, to nobody in particular.
“You will not die. You are a man of destiny.†A female voice said, speaking Russian with an unusual accent. The boy felt light hands placing a thick coat over his shoulders. “Now don’t be so melodramatic, you’re young yet and you’ll feel much worse later on.â€
He turned to see a blond woman wearing long gray robes standing over him. Her clothing reminded him of pictures of ancient Greek statues he had seen in school. Why would anybody dress that way now? How had she gotten here without swimming or being seen by the guards?
“Thank you, madame. Who are you?â€
“I am Urania, Sergei Pavlovitch. I am a Muse.â€
“What’s a Muse? How do you know my name?†Was the woman some sort of army guard or government spy sent to catch him for swimming to the airfield? Had she been following him for days? Weeks? Months?
“I know many things, Sergei. That is the job of a Muse. To be wise and to lead others to wisdom for the benefit of the whole world. And I am here to offer you a gift.â€
“A.. gift?â€
“You have shown great curiosity and determination- even obsession. I have been very impressed by these gifts of yours. In time, they will astonish the entire world.â€
“Astonish… the world? Was that what you meant by me having a destiny?â€
“You have a great destiny, Sergei. And you will have my full help in achieving it. There is a library in this city, is there not?â€
“Yes… yes, there is.â€
“Very good. Some friends of mine have created a magazine for children like you. Intelligent children with the potential to change history. Now, you will take this card I give you and not show it to anyone except the librarian at your library. Don’t ask him about it or the magazine, he knows nothing beyond the fact that this card means he is to give each month’s issue to you. Never show your card or your issues to anyone unless they first show you a similar card or they wear one of the symbols on it on their presence. If you do meet anyone with a card or those symbols, you must give them your full assistance. Do you understand?†The woman stared at him with a stern intensity.
“Yes. I understand.â€
She produced a small card from the folds of her robe, silver with strange symbols printed on one side- a black figure of a dancing man with a flute, the head of a bunny printed in bright pink, and more that he could not identify. He took the card and turned it over, to the other side, where three lines of bold text were printed:
Sergei Pavlovitch Korolev
Cross-Time Muser 873
Clan Urania
“Now, I must go.†The woman said, turning to leave.
“But I have so many questions! What’s a Muser? What’s my destiny? How will I astonish the world?â€
“You already know the answers, child. If you follow the dream that led you to where we now stand, fifty years hence, you will be remembered as the man who opened the way to the stars. But heed my instructions, and do not fail.â€
And in a swirl of fabric and light, the woman vanished.
The boy tugged his new coat tighter and set off along the more exposed, but dry, land route around the harbor.
“I am… a man of destiny.â€
More Omega. It’s just a series of connected vignettes right now, but it may develop a plot later.
~
Jonathan Sanders was not having a good day. He’d known that some of the higher-ups in the Institute were spiteful toward newbies, but he’d thought it would be good-natured ribbing and sending him out for left-handed Air components… things like that. Not things like this.
He stopped in front of the door. It was airtight, newer than the rest of the facility, installed after the incident with the staphylococcus colony a few months back. Sanders had seen the files on the thing they kept in there. The medicos said it was male, but he wasn’t convinced the examiners had ever gotten close enough to make sure. He’d also seen the drawings from before they’d decided that giving it pen and paper encouraged the obsession.
Birds. So many birds, from hundreds of angles and perspectives: fanatically detailed close-ups of eyes and talons; wild abstracts of black and purple; anatomical diagrams that would have made Audubon gibber; eerie satellite’s-eye views of impossibly large murders, flocks of black birds covering continents. Every possible medium, including spit and blood.
Its name was classified (and, apparently, unpronounceable). The people at the Institute called it the Crowcatcher.
Trying not to let his legs shake, he keyed in the code that would open the door.
Magnetic locks tumbled. The… man? woman? looked up at him and twisted within the straitjacket, letting out an insane giggle. “feathers flippy flappy floppy wings… stupid little rhymes, so close so close so close… GONE!!”
They could have sent the food in through an automated slot or something, Sanders thought bitterly. They’re just messing with my head.
He set down the tray of nutrient sludge in front of the Crowcatcher and backed out, desperately trying not to make eye contact.
I just rediscovered this thread. I’m going to start working on my story again.
I just discovered this thread. I shall start my story now…
In the kingdom of Flanflumer, there was a island Horiscayo. Horiscayo was genrally overlooked, mostly because it was surrounded by a sufourous sea and no one but the Nightrites had the power to get onto it. Because no Nighhtrite was able to speak, however, nothing was really known about Horiscayo. The Nightrites had no arms, so they could not write anything down, either, which was quite a disadvantage, because the Nightrites were the only ones who had any powers, and also because nobody else knew anything, except where they were, and about that place. They were called Tritpodons, and they were scattered all over the main island Flan, rooted into the ground. They had no need for anything, and they would live forever, but they could not comunicate. Or move. Or, really, do anything. But there were only 13 Nightrites, and many hundreds of Tritpodons, so they ruled. There were only Nightrites and Tritpodons on the island of Flan, and life was very boring. No exitement, horror, or ANYTHING. The Nightrites actually had really interesting lives, but nobody knew that. On the island of Horiscayo, however, things could not have been more different.
Uh… This is the Muse fanfiction thread. This means that you write fiction about the Muses. However, the Books In Progress thread would be a good place to go.
Oops, sorry, mixed them up. *mentally smacks head*
It’s ok. You’re new here. *gives ice pack for head*
More of the Mutants story.
The midmorning sun woke up the mutants, all except Aero. Gravitas went to shake her awake, but her hand went right through her shoulder!
“Sidra!” She growled, annoyed.
Sidra giggled, then dissipated the illusion. “You gotta call me Kitsune! Cakey lady know my name!”
“Cakey lady?” Gravitas was now slightly confused.
“She probably means Mira.” Said Fyira.
“Whatever. Where did Aero go?”
“I bet she went to sell us out to Mira.” Said Flyte.
“She wouldn’t do that!” Said Fyria.
“Wait! You don’t hear cake?” Asked Kitsune.
“Hear what?” Asked Fyria.
“Under that!” Said Kitsune, pointing at a rock.
“She hears something from over there.” Fyria translated, pointing at the forest in the oposite direction.
The mutants stopped to listen. Sure enough, they could faintly hear Aero’s voice triumphantly calling “Yes! Another one!” They ran through the woods to where Aero was kneeling by a stream, with a pile of fresh-caught fish next to her, enough to provide the group a decent breakfast.
“Good morning.” Said Aero. “I woke up before any of you, so I decided to go for a walk. I found this stream, and decided to practice those reflexes of mine.”
“Wait, you caught these … by hand?” Asked Fyria.
“Well we didn’t buy any fishing poles, and I thought a nice breakfast might be appreciated.” Aero replied.
“Well, we might as well practice our abilities too.” Said Gravitas. “I can hold the fish over the fire, and Fyria can keep it the right temperature. After that, we should do some more serious practice, though.”
“Ooh, I can practice with the fire!” Said Fyria.
“Uh-oh. Something tells me we should move the supplies out of the way.” Said Gravitas. “I think I’ll try moving rocks. I’m supposed to be able to make things heavier too, so I’ll also grab a leaf or two as well.”
“Hmm… I can make and dissasemble some things with the parts we have.” Said Aero, looking excited.
“I can fly around a bit.” Said Flyte, enthusiastic despite herself.
“Just don’t fly over the fire. The wind from your wings will make it go out of control, and even I realise burning the forest down is a bad idea.” Fyria replied.
“Me turning fire colors O-cake?” Asked Kitsune.
“Sure. But didn’t Mira say you could shapeshift too? Why don’t you practice that as well?” Answered Fyria.
“Yay!” Kitsune yelled.
“We should all wait to do this until after breakfast.” Reminded Aero, who had already begun gutting the fish.
And they did. After breakfast.
First, they moved everything flammable away from the fire. Then Fyria started playing with it. First she raised and lowered the flames. When that got boring, she moved the fire so that it looked like the rocks were on fire, and isolated parts of the flame and made them float in the air. Meanwhile, the noise whoosh whoosh whoosh could be heard as Gravitas made rocks fly. Kitsune turned into a giant flea and jumped around everywhere. Aero began putting together a device that interferes with radar. Flyte grew wings to fly around with. They were as long as she was tall, tranparent, and vaguely butterfly-shaped.
The mutants stopped what they were doing to stare.
“What?” Asked Flyte defensively.
“You look like a giant fairy.” Said Gravitas.
“Shut up!” Snapped Flyte, who turned into a dragon and took to the skies.
After a while, the whoosh whoosh of flying rocks became the thwump thwump of leaves falling so hard and fast, they left indentations in the ground. The anti-radar device was completed and dissasembled, and was now being made into a solar-powered magnetic field disruptor. Kitsune had banged into a tree, returned to normal, and begun changing the color of the fire to every conceivable shade of pink and purple. Fyria and Flyte were racing to see who could acheive the most altitude the fastest, Flyte’s dragon or Fyria’s fire.
*Back at the mad scientist HQ*
Mistress Mira was ranting again. Something about her latest client’s order and how she would not accept failure this time. Her bored agents were scanning for the mutants they were supposed to detain. Suddenly, Jenna Brimstone noticed something on her monitor.
“Hey, Necro, come look at this.” She said.
She zoomed in on the image. “It was hiddden before. There must have been something blocking radar there. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” She switched from radar scan to satellite imaging.
The picture showed a jut of fire, bright fuchsia in color, rising higher and higher above the treetops. There seemed to be a dragon flying next to the fire that, as they watched, changed to a blinding hot pink. The two agents looked at each other. This could only mean one thing. Mutants.
I dislike you giving Flyte fairy wings. I’d pictured her with gigantic black, slightly torn bat wings to fit her personality. But it makes it even more funny that she has these light, transparent fairy wings.
Sorry. I wanted to embaress her. (Though I first thought of gining her bat wings too!)
It’s cool. You know…it’d be cool if she had wings to match her mood. You know, fairy wings for a good mood, bat wings for a bad mood, etc. Do you think that would work?
Hmm.. How about a different pair of wings for each mood that work with the mood to aggravate her?
…you mean if she got bat wings when she was angry, they would only work if she was still angry?
No, like if her mood changes, her wings change to whatever would most annoy her at the time. (Butterfly, fairy, rainbow bird)
Oh, okay, I got you. But what if she was super, super happy?
Bat wings to ratty to actually fly.
Typo! It should be “too ratty”.
Lol…that would be funny. And sadness? Probably super glittery rainbow bird wings, hmm?
SFTDP What do you guys think?
It doesn’t really have anything to do with Muse, Muses or MuseBlog, so… why is it on this thread? It would probably be better on BiP.
The characters in it are Bloggers with super powers.
I’m working up to that. Mira will be conected to Mr. Joe, and the Mutants will be sucked into the kokonspiracy somehow.
They could be clonesof the real life Bloggers…
Ooh. Ooh, yes.
I demand space-time portals. Preferably cyan and orange.
I also demand that Kitsune is taken captive by the evil guys, turned intelligent, becomes a Dark Magical Girl (with frilly outfit to match), and dies in a moment of selflessness to save her former good allies.
Cyan and orange? How could they not be with Portal fans around?
This was a triumph…
To Enceladus’ second-to-last post: That could work…
To Witchneko:
If there is a portal gun, it would either be: A) In Mira’s possesion or B) Made by Aero of all her gadget parts and quickly dismantled. As for Kitsune, I was thinking more along the lines of her craziness causes her to mess up an illusion, thereby allowing one of her friends to get caught.
To Enceladus’ last post: I’m making a note here, HUGE SUCCESS…
It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction at how good this fanfiction is!
I like it, but I’m probably biased…
Hey, the superpowers you chose were really cool. You have a right to be biased.
I kind of like being the just-barely-super smart girl of the team. The others command fire, turn into dragons, cast illusions and manipulate gravity, I just dodge punches and build things in a cave with a box of scraps.
What? That got snipped? It’s in the middle of a word and I was paraphrasing Iron Man!
Were you trying to write “scraps”?
Yes, yes I was.
It’s fixed now.
I personally think your powers are just as super as the other mutants. They’re also easy to work with. I have to give everyone weaknesses. Yours is built into the power. (You need scraps to put together.) But, for instance, Errata could theoretically just send the bad guys into the sun and be done with it. But that would mean no more story.
Good point.
Can I be in it? Like, they could find me or something.
Hey, everyone! Remember Pierre Tasse 2 from the Random thread? I’m going to write just like him!
apple ipad
bill gates is wokring hard with his company to maake windows pnohe seven, but steve jobs says “we wil make better produtc” and makes apple ipad. bill gates is sad because steve jobs takes his moeny but then he finds bomb and bolws up all ipads. “horray” everyone say.
HEY MUSEBLOG! WHO WANTS TO BE IN MY MAX FANFIC! PLENTY OF FAX!
My mental processes upon reading that sentence:
1) FAX = ?
2) = Somewhat outdated method of communication involving paper and machines.
3) = Facts.
4) = Fang and Max.
:D. Who whant’s to join the flock, who fight pitex. (pink+itex= pitex) which is HPB itex!
So do I!
me too!
I do!
Fang/Max? Too traditional and canon. I like strange stuff. For example, Fang/Iggy.
Or both…. Fax and Figgy at the same time… and FAx= Max’s fist+ Fang’s face.
More Pierre Tasse… (This guy hates Apple, not Britain.)
iphone 4
appel make new iphome. bill gate is sad becuase he is make windows phone sevvn, and he cannot make. then he discvoer that apple is make bad appps for iphone 4 because there is no retmia displau. “look! bad apple!” bill gates say and steve jozbs is angry. he make army of iphone 4 and make them aytack bill gates, but phoens are broken! “ha” bill gates say, and he make windows phone 7.
Okay.
So far…
Max-15-leader
Fang-15- second in command
Iggy-15
Nudge-12
Pie girl-10
Gazzy-9
Angel-7
Everyone else’s age?
I’d want to join, but I’d be older than everybody else…
Okay. Hmm.. you and Max could co-lead.
I am a genius.
Enc- 13.
I think we should give profiles too-
Personality- Somewhat dark, brooding. Likely to remark that we will die, pessimist. But can be happy and joyful at times. And also will attack with hugs who is withing reach.
Height- 5’7″ or so.
Looks- Longish, wavyish dark brown hair. “Button” nose, glasses. Hazel eyes.
Usually wears dark colors.
Yes. Yes we should.
Personality: Bright, optimistic. Technically the opposite of Enc. That’s a coincidence. But, sometimes shy. Mostly Talkative.
Height: 5’1
Looks: Curlyish dark Brown hair with black and purple streaks.Wears Contact Lenses.( noticing a trend?;) )
Normally wears Turquoise and Purple.
I’m not much of a leader, but…
Kai- 17
Personality: Cautious, tends to overanalyse and worry, has a strange sense of humor and laughs at random things. Generally kind and welcoming, idealistic. Excitable.
Height: 5’0, exactly.
Looks- Short, curly brown hair. Hazel-gray eyes, thick glasses.
Usually dresses simply, in leggings or jeans and dark t-shirts. Wears jackets a lot, likes to always have pockets.
Max-15-leader
Fang-15- second in command
Iggy-15
Enc-13
Nudge-12
Pie girl-10
Gazzy-9
Angel-7
Witchneko; 12.
Personality: Crazy, tries to bring comedy to every situation; but when she doesn’t she’s dark and angry. Prone to violent moodswings. Makes horrible puns. Easy to guilttrip.
Height: 4’11? About 4’12 or 4’11. Not 5’1, but close.
Looks- Reddish-brown wavy/curly hair down to her shoulders. Hazel eyes, turning more brown than green. Wears contacts, because without them she’s almost blind.
Usually wears fashionable things (oh, who am I kidding? Sport skorts, leggings, t-shirts a size or two too big for her. Teal, black, pink, white.)
Mikazuki(Shorter version: Miku), 12
Personality: Slightly hyper/and/or overenthusiastic. Likes to help people. Really, really fast. Enjoys running around outside at night screaming.
Height: 5′ 2″
Looks: Shoulder-length light brown hair. Blue-green eyes. Large nose. Usually wears jeans. And a tee shirt.
Max-15-leader
Fang-15- second in command
Iggy-15
Enc-13
Nudge-12
Mikazuki ( Miku)-12
Witchneko-12
Pie girl-10
Gazzy-9
Angel-7
Anyone else?
This I can say:
We help the flock after getting captured by Pitex, the bunnies where making a mutant army and we got wings, we tell them the connection of bunnies and Itex, and Chu corp. We insist on coming. The rest is… classified. * cool spy music*
Dang. Sorry Kai, didn’ see your post.
Kai-17-leader
Max-15-leader
Fang-15- second in command
Iggy-15
Enc-13
Nudge-12
Mikazuki ( Miku)-12
Witchneko-12
Pie girl-10
Gazzy-9
Angel-7
Can I join?
Fireh-13.
Personality: Pretty much like what Enc said, likely to comment something about ketchup/blood/bloody mustard at random times, cheerful pessimist.
Height: 5’1″
Looks: Longish, slightly wavy, dark brown hair. Dark brown eyes with black rings around the irises, which looks awesome. Button-ish nose. Wears dark colours.
Sure! I think you’ll be one of the last people. Hate to say it folks, but we’re almost closed.Like, 2 slots left. Maybe 1. Wait- whats bloody mustard?
Kai-17-leader
Max-15-leader
Fang-15- second in command
Iggy-15
Enc-13
Fireh-13
Nudge-12
Mikazuki ( Miku)-12
Witchneko-12
Pie girl-10
Gazzy-9
Angel-7
I’ll do it.
Selenium
Age 14
5’4″, longish dark brown hair, light brown eyes, wears anything that looks good and is comfortable
Affectionately sarcastic. Not all the time. Just sometimes.
BTW; Pie girl, are you still going to do this? If so, can you change my name in-story to Spirit? I also ask for the wings of either an Albatross, Peregrine Falcon, Kea, Chinese Sparrowhawk, Lesser Striped Swallow, or Rainbow Pitta. Spirit was clearly designed for a specific purpose. Also: no contacts.
Yeah, I got into Maximum Ride recently.
Okay! Hi, everyone. I’m back for a little.
So, remember that thing I talked way back about? Yeah, I’m still doing that. :DDD And I have a more complete cast list!
Sorcerers (controls physical realms):
Re-nier Alesund (Rainbow [the a in Alesund has a little circle on top; it’s a Norwegian town.])
Adeia Nanortal (Adeia)
Zinc Rovaviemi (me)
Nthanda Olebek (Nthanda the Laugher)
Warriors (minor teleportation):
Avalon Neko (AvalonGirl/WitchNeko, whatever she’s going by these days)
Xerix Tomera (ZVX)
Cheiro Mayai (Cello-Playing Mathematician/Mogget’s Little Sister)
Tema Forani (TMFA)
Serafina Aderai (Serafina; AvalonGirl’s counterpart)
Healers (really advanced healing; grow faster: taller than everyone but shorter lifespans):
Armadda Brnc (Armada)
Sudo Brnc (SudoRandom) (these two are brother and sister. :3)
Nilly BckBck (Kokonilly)
Agi Fshh (Agrrrfishi)
Midni Fdllr (Midnight Fiddler) (SHE IS SOOO COOL HERE)
Luna Ltl (Luna the Lovely)
Artisans (hexes for use on thieves, passed down by blood. Like, the Hawk family could make someone temporiarily turn into a frog, while the Ladus family could make them break out in hives.): (keep in mind that their names are not first and last; you say both if you want to refer to them. You wouldn’t call “Mag!” you would call “Magnollia!”)
Mag Nollia (Princess Magnolia)
Enc Ladus (Enceladus)
Reth Hawkk (RtH)
Tai Fan (THF)
Graun Dhag (Groundhog)
Kiti Dhag (Kittymine)
Rogues (whatever abilities they still have from wherever they came from, being the misfits of Otherwhere):
Ebeth Alann (Ebeth)
Fireh Hemlocke (Fireh)
Kendall Byek (BookGirl)
Liefy Green (Leafygreen)
Nomads (can pick up general emotions from animals, but thoughts from their familiar if they choose to have one):
Nihlah Meehehoh (Cat’s Meow)
Jaehd Stohn (Jadestone)
Rohsihnquahr Keehsahgahn (RoseQuartz)
Gypsies (same as Nomads):
Ibihcehf (IBCF)
Beehvoh (Beavo)
Swahn (MissSwann)
Sihlahbuhb (Syllabub/Sequoia)
Industrialists (same as Artisans, but rarely use them, considering them to be unreliable):
Erin Alis (Alice)
Parilus Canix (POSOC)
Pan Fan (Purple Panda)
I’m still wondering who’s even on to see their names on here. Anyway, if you’re not on the list, it either means:
A) You showed up when I wasn’t around.
B) I didn’t know you well enough to get a firm grasp of your personality.
There are not enough guys on MB.
I… I could go into the whole history and/or the interpersonal relationships between everyone, but it’s all rather complicated. Also, around half of you guys have actually drawn designs floating around. The other half I have recently added (recently=five minutes ago) or don’t know yet.
My sister is kicking me off. Good to see you all once again.
Good to see you, too, Ms. Zinc!
*is a guy*
Um. A few changes to be made!
Forget Avalon Neko; call her Spirit Avlon.
/totally switching her name again for the millionth time to keep up with other sites/ Make her a frigging Nomad with a cat familiar.
AND UM BECAUSE I’M A DORK
Serafina Aderai’s character concept diiiiies in a fire; to be reborn as Rain Maigik the Artisan.
Hi, Robert! *waves*
Oh, thank you Piggy! I’m sorry; I remebered you a week ago and promptly forgot again.
NU WITCHNEKO. (*doesn’t want to call you that*) You are staying as you are. You have cool hair, and you are rather cat-like. Just hyperactiver. Andand, Serafina isn’t a counterpart, she’s a proclaimed BFF who Avalon drags around to DO things with. Serafina is a bit more sedate than Avalon and has saved Avalon from doing something that would kill her many a time. She has these cool tatoo-things.
BUT I SOUND LIKE A HORRIBLE OTAKU. ;_; That sounds about right. Avalon’s the hyperactive semi-idiot who leaps before thinking, and Serafina takes a minute to think it over and is somewhat of the implacable girl.
Ohhh my goooood, I need to see what you’ve written…
Haha, this is wicked awesome
You’re a genius.
I like being a rogue. Just one hair in the soup: could you change my name from Byek to Byuk?
*can’t wait for the stories, etc…*
So what and who exactly is Parilus?
Oh, he’s a pretty alright guy. A little uptight at times, but has his heart in the right place. The only sane man, along with Alis, because Pan has her moments. (The Industrialists went under mass-renovation; they used to be like, evil.)
Okay, I’ve drawn designs of Zinc, Re-nier, Nthanda, Adeia, Avalon, Serafina, and Xerix and will try to scan them tomorrow.
Writing?? Ahhh… (wrote some stuff but it suck*)
OK, I’m finally going to post more of the Mutants.
*Random street.*
Keiffer was walking down the street. She was dressed in all black, as usual, and was daydreaming about killing and vampires again. Suddenly, she was startled by her earpiece going off.
“Hello.” she answered.
“Hi! Visiting in five!” the voice on the phone sounded annoyingly chipper.
“‘Kay, I’ll be there soon. The usual game?”
“Yep! Bye!” the agent on the other end hung up.
Visiting in five. Code for a mission back at Headquarters. Keiffer shrugged. At least she’d get some action. She got into her car.
*A little later, at mad scientist HQ*
“OK, what’s the deal?” asked Keiffer as she entered the computer room.
“Quint deGhoul, mutants spotted. We’re to rendezvous with The Janitor and Fair Lady at the campsite in sector eight.” The Pug was always precise when it came to missions; like he’d gotten all his lines off TV.
“Transportation?”
“Taxi to nearest city, we can walk the rest of the way.”
“Gear?”
“Improved standard.” That meant fireproof, there was little they could do about the other mutants’ powers.
*A little later, at the mutants’ campsite*
Kitsune suddenly looked up. “Hear cakes clomping!”
“Where?” Fyira quickly asked, startled into letting the fire drop to normal height.
“That way!” Kitsune pointed at a tent.
“Guys! Kitsune hears people running to us from that direction!”
Everybody stopped what they were doing, and grabbed their stuff, Gravitas helping to pack the tents. It took only a few minutes, but they were all worried that the agents would come into view at any second.
Flyte had become worried despite herself, and grew wings in anticipation of escape. They were feathered and pale blue this time. And they sparkled! Flyte noticed this, and with an indignant exclamation of “Hey!” turned into a dragon again.
“Can you make it look like we’re still in the camp?” Fyira asked Kitsune.
“Me only cake what me see.” She replied.
“Crap. Flyte, can you carry her over the campsite and stay there for a bit?”
“For a while.” came the response.
“When you can’t stay in the air anymore, follow where we’ve gone.” Fyria said. “Kitsune, make yourself and Flyte invisible, and project an illusion of us doing what we were doing before you heard them.”
“O-cake!”
And so the chase ensued…
Going with the previous idea of changing her wings to what would most annoy her given her mood, I decided to go with something that offended every one of her sensibilities.
MOAR PLZ!! kthxbai
*gasps* Did you just use text language?! Or – wait… Is that chatspeak? (I no so little of both that I can’t usually tell them apart.)
Sorry, I have writer’s block at the moment. I’ll post more as soon as I can.
SFTDP That should say “know,” sorry.
…yes. Or more specifically, ICanHazCheezburger.com language. I burst into it at random points.
OK, I understood “More please,” but what does that next part mean?
kthxbai= ‘Kay thanks bye
Wrote something. Quite stupid. Parilus=POSOC, Re-nier=Rainbow, and Zinc=me. More to come; more characters.
It was an absolutely splendid sunny day, Parilus thought. Even though most of his closer friends have gone back to the Ports for the holiday, he had opted to stay here at the Academia. He had chosen just the right time, too- the school’s library had gotten a new shipment of books. That was what he was engrossed with now, on a bench in the sunlight. Everything is perfect, he inwardly sighed with delight, devouring sentence after sentence in the novel. Things were getting rather interesting, what with the dirigible being tested and the protagonist and antagonist having a duel on its deck, and it was the deciding blow, and-
“EYAAAAAAAA!!”
Parilus’ head snapped up in surprise, jolted from the story. His brow furrowed as rapid footsteps sounded across the cobblestones and another scream came. A feminine scream, he decided by its pitch, adjusting his goggles on his forehead. It was probably nothing- queer things happened here all the time. Some Sorcerers get their runebook stolen by an unwitting person, and something goes eventually wrong with that, or an Artisan gets annoyed and hexes the living hell out of their grievance. Maybe a duel between Tomosamu becomes bloody, or a Healer exercise goes wrong. But for whatever reason, there was no reason in stopping reading. It didn’t involve him; he had done nothing. He opened his book again.
“PARILUSSSSSSSSS!!”
Whoosh, the book flew out of his hands and landed in a shrubbery 3 metres away. He looked forlornly at it, then remembered. He looked down at the disturbance, the high-pitched, hard-to-ignore, still-screaming girl hiding behind his legs.
It was that Sorceress girl, the one with the much too short skirt and hair. What was her name again…?
“Er, Fluorine…?” he tried, tapping her with the heel of his foot.
She gave a squeak in surprise. “Zinc,” she then replied in a muffled voice. She was curled up in a ball.
“Yes, Zinc. Why are you-”
“Shhh, not so loud, not so loud!”
Rolling is eyes, Parilus dropped his voice to a whisper. “What I’m trying to say is: What are you doing?! It is entirely unreasonable that you should come to me, when I have absolutely nothing to do with you or your problems. I was reading peacefully, for once! All I wanted was to read! But noooo. You crazy northerners always have to-”
“I would prefer you didn’t refer to us in that name.” A monotone, disinterested but slightly angered, voice drifted over his shoulder, making him start in surprise.
Zinc blinked. “Oh, hi, Re-nier. You were able to keep up.”
“I was.”
“I see that.”
“Are you tired? I am.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Do you two realize how rude it is to talk over someone like that?!” Parilus snapped, glaring at the two girls.
“Yes, we do,” Re-nier shrugged, some hair falling out of the plait she had wrestled it all into. “But, as it is, Zinc’s hiding.” She gave her companion a pointed look, and Zinc crawled, army-style, out from underneath the bench to crouch next to Re-nier, eyes darting to and fro.
Written for school. Vocab assignment. SFTDP. First completed story, and I kill off someone. Namely, Piggy. Canix is Parilus Canix, POSOC. Fan is Pan Fan, or Purple Panda. Ebeth is Ebeth, Fireh is Fireh, and Kendall is BookGirl. Narrator girl is, as of yet, unassigned. Chetsya has no assigned language, but it roughly translates to ‘a female dog.’ Also, Piggy’s death is not permanant (this is a much darker take on the owrld and Industrialists in general), so don’t worry. A prelim of a description for him is below. This is through the eyes of the narrator, so Industrialists are loathed by her, and she calls Pyyj a northerner (which may or may not be considered by Sorcerers to a racial slur against them, I don’t know at this point).
~
Slipping in and out of the shadows, her eyes never left the gallows. A large crowd had gathered, watching the accused ascend the steps to his fate, pushed forward by the constable’s pistol at the back of his neck. A northerner, to be sure, with long blond hair hanging around a pale face and blood staining the collar of their shirt (a barbaric measure to put a cap on the ancestral powers northerners had). But the proud tilt upwards of his or her chin signified that the northerner was not yet defeated. Would never be defeated- not even in death.
It was lamentable, really- Pyyj had always been a useful source of information. But he had always insisted on journeying without the safety of a company. Always by himself with his potions and secrets, believing the news he bore more valuable than the bounty on his head. And he was correct, for a time- his gossip, which only he held and was widely purported to be immaculately true (even when it wasn’t, which is when the chaos began!), had provided him with a steady sanctuary.
But the tyranny of the new militant government had caught up with the traveler (because they were “cracking down on the scum that pollutes our society”), and now here he was, stripped of his rights and branded nothing more than a worthless scourge, a dirty knave, an abomination to their lands. Never mind his mind- he was a narcotics dealer, he was a treasonous spy, killed thirty people, ruined business, lives!, a horrible person, and weeds must be killed before they spread; hang him, hang him, hang him!
Inflammatory words, to be sure (although not all of them were false; he did at times smell of opium), but they ignited the crowds, stirring them into a frenzy of yelling screaming people demanding his death. Her lip curled in disgust; a right lot of ignoramuses, all of them. No better were those smarmy industrialists sitting on the viewing platform. Recognizing two of them, she gave each a rude hand gesture (not that they would know what it was even if they saw her; her people were different from Them). Especially that Fan woman; she had been offered escape by her sister (poor, trusting Tai), but turned her down in favor of getting brainwashed. Chetsya ,she called Fan in her mind, and the curse word made her feel better.
To Fan’s right was an even worse filth: Canix, looking down on the proceedings with a blank, cold expression. He sat stiffly, letting no emotion filter through mud brown eyes. She smirked as she noticed that Canix’s forearm was attached to his chair’s arm by way of ribbon. She knew the reason: Canix had been part of the militia that had seized Pyyj and his makeshift apothecary. Three others had been there with Pyyj: Ebeth (who had given her the details on the raid), Fireh (who was hiding and trying to shake off the clouds she hated so much), and Kendall (who was still unconscious, after three worried weeks). All were seasoned fighters. Fireh and Ebeth had to make their escape with a wounded Kendall after Pyyj was taken, but not before Ebeth nearly cut Canix’s arm off (for alliances are flimsy in their roguish world, but if a friend is hurt, then you pay back in kind). The arm must be secured to the seat because they didn’t want him to move it while the bone healed. Stupid industrialist doctors, didn’t they know he would come out weaker because they were letting his muscles atrophy?
Trumpets blared.
Her head snapped up.
The execution was beginning.
A fist clenched as the noose was slipped over Pyyj’s neck.
“Maybe…”
Teeth bared as the hangman walked to his station.
“… someday, in some miraculously wondrous fantastic way…”
A scream was nearly ripped from a throat as the lever was pulled.
“… we’ll be together.”
Pyyj’s body dangled there as she quivered in rage-or maybe in horror, or even grief; she didn’t know at this point- She watched from the shadows, not able to tear her eyes away from the dead man.
An official bade a prole to throw the corpse onto the waiting cart, which would eventually be dragged away by a malnourished hippogriff, a rare sorrel breed no doubt stolen from a nomad; dirty, thieving industrialists. A brief look of discomfiture passed over Fan’s face as she descended from the box, tracking her boots in blood. The scarlet liquid would dry slowly in the ever foggy weather of the industrialist city center. Canix held his damaged arm delicately as if it was a porcelain vase that would break if he let it drop, and he touched his hand to Fan’s shoulder blade to lead her away from the scene.
The girl shook no more as she melded into the shadows.
~
Kendall Byuk.
An estranged Sorceress turned Wanton.
Dyes her hair. Her eyes are like that (thick pupils, as Sorcerers generally have small ones, and thick edges) because of eyeliner and her leaving Norsendr. The cut on her collarbone too. (Between your collarbones is where a Sorcerer’s magic core is kept.)
Despises Sorceres, but good to friends. A Jerk With A Heart Of Gold. She travels around causing chaos for Sorceres. She doesn’t want to cooperate with Re-nier or Zinc, but, as they are Fireh’s friends, she puts up with them. The poeple closest to her are Fireh and Ebeth.
Kai Yves.
A traveling Sorceress.
She travels to followthe stars. She doesn’t use her magic much, but can divine from the stars. If you can find her and she likes you, you may get your future read. But she’s not a machine. She may be a little spacey, but she has her sensible moments. She’s good friends with Rohsihnquahr (RoseQuartz) and Nila (Cat’s Meow), often running into them in her wanderins. Sadly enough, she’s never around when you need her, both because she’s probably on the other side of the world and her desire to avoid conflict. Her dearest wish is to fly, and she likes lettuce.
Pyyj Y.
A traveling sorcerer, but not globetrotting. He travels in Norsendr and the Healer forest, and sometimes visits Artisan guilds. He stays in places for months at a time, setting up an apothecary/teashop. It’s rumored he has ties in the government, but they’re unconfirmed. He’s nice enough, but if pushed too far, is dangerous. His magic is prodigious, but he only uses it for chores unless attacked by Wantons. It seem slike he’s lying while he’s smiling and he might have no moral or allegiances, and that might or might not be. He picks up gossip because of his trade, and is a good source for reliable information. Overall, and interesting guy you might or might not want to trust.
Tai Fan.
An Artisan who was raised in the Ports with her sister, Pan.
She ran away at 16 and was accepted into an Artisan guild, where she learned the trade of glassmaking. She had tried to convince Pan to go with her, but the girl refused, loving Ports life. Tai Fan left without her. A kind person, she accepts anyone for what they say they are, which means she’s easy to lie to (prompting Reth Hawkk to look out for her.). She looks back with melancholy on her childhood, especially the fun she used to have with her sister, but wouldn’t go back. She often states she hates her sister. She’s good friends with nearly everyone, but is closest to Kit Hauh [Kittymine] and Graun Huah [Groundhog], although when she’s reminiscient she will avoid them and talk with Mag Nollia.
[These were written on the front of my math flash cards, and have accompanying art. I’ll scan when I get unlazy.]
Wow, this is really good. I love the atmosphere of the piece. My character is awesome as well. Just the sort of character I would have written for myself.
I hope you turn this into a book or a series of books someday.
[A Zinc and Renier bit for yall today. Is Zinc too Mary Sue-ish? I tried to base her off a combination of IRl me and MB me, so feedback is appreciated.]
About Zinc and Renier.
Renier was chosen, along with others, by a council in the Norsendr government (which recently stabilized) to be sent to the Academia. Before she could go there, she had to be sent on a five year journey around the lands, in order to be exposed to different cultures. Zinc was randomly selected from people with moderately high levels of magic from around the capital to accompany Renier. It was a rocky start, but now they are (slightly dysfunctional at times) good friends. They both regularly receive a good dose of culture shock, as Norsendr generally tries to isolate itself after The Great Tension. Zinc has long forgotten their time limit, but Renier knows that eventually she will be sent to the Academia and Zinc would have to return home.
ReniÓ—r Ã…lesund (This is her official name, but I prefer not to labor over special characters and whatnot. Alesund is a city in Norway.)
Sorceress
She was raised pretty traditionally, the only thing not traditional about her being her (slightly short) skirt. (See notes about Zinc and Renier’s clothes.) She’s good at shutting down, and is sort of very serious, Kendall absolutely hates her for. Zinc has taken up the task of making her loosen up a little, which doesn’t seem to be working all that much. She has no idea where the braids in her hair come from. She’s nearsighted, and somehow manages to avoid getting drug into messes with Zinc, but if she does she handles them with ease and grace.
Zinc Rovaviemi (A screwed up version of a Finnish town.)
A Sorceress traveling with Renier.
If she’s surrounded by hyperactive people, she will act like a big sister, but otherwise, she’s cheerful. She keeps her hair as short it is because long hair is annoying to her. She was raised in the southern part of Norsendr, and is slightly nearsighted, but not enough to need glasses. She’s open enough to new situations, but doesn’t like being jumped on. She can be hyper but really does prefer to calm down. She likes learning languages but is terrible at it. She doesn’t get mad easily but when she does she gets pretty vicious and does things she ends up regretting later. She gets on good terms with others easily but isn’t good at all at romantic situations so she ends up freaking out when Sudo pursues her. Her ability to handle sleep deprivation switches from each extreme and doesn’t like prolonged physical exercise. Absent-minded. Likes salty things.
Runes and balancing out.
Renier is better at writing in non-rune alphabets than Zinc is. Zinc’s attempts at other alphabets come out sort of mangled and heavily influenced by the Norsendi alphabet. She’s better with people and at remembering runes for magic. She has a stronger magic core, but forgets spells ↔ results (see upcoming notes about Sorcery). She’s not stupid, just absent-minded. Basically it’s around equal, and if you could combine the two, you’d have a very useful Sorcery tool.
The skirts aren’t exactly by choice.
One of the factors that sparked The Tension (a Cold War-esque relationship between Industrialists and Sorcerers) was Industrialists sending in people to influence the Norsendi government from the inside and take valuable magic and resources from them. (This did work for a while, actually, but that’s a story for when notes on history get written up.) Slowly, the infiltrationers changed the islands, and started with cultural posturing after the Ports. Girls and women, traditionally, wore thick pants to ward off the cold, but the Industrialists changed this. Zinc and Renier were born after the Norsendi government chased out the Industrialists and stabilized itself, so they grew up wearing skirts. Technically, what they are wearing (especially Zinc) is very rebellious, what with the hems being above their ankles. Renier didn’t want her skirt like that (mid-calf), but one morning she woke up to all her clothes hemmed shorter. Zinc denies anything to do with it, but Renier suspects otherwise…
*repeats* But Renier suspects otherwise…
I don’t think that Zinc is to much of an MS- just let her mess up something once and then she’s clean.
Oh good. She doesn’t have much of a backstory, so I figured that’s what got rid of all MS qualities.
Coming up, hopefully written today…
Healers, or maybe Warriors, or maybe History/race relations. Don’t know yet. (guhhhh it’s six in the morning and I have to go play soccer I don’t want toooo)
Looking forward to it!
[Little piece of stupidity. Sorry all. I have an untyped page of comments on early designs/plans for the world. Also, I want to stop calling it Otherwhere, so are there any name suggestions? I’d love to hear them; I’m simply at a loss.]
How a war would go down.
There are two most likely situations.
Warriors/Artisans declare war on the Industrialists.
Warriors declare war on Healers.
1) a: Warriors would be so riled up and with a burst of nationalistic pride, would say enough is enough! to the Industrialists. A couple of centuries before The Great Tension, Industrialists sent out their fleet and eventually overpowered the Warriors with sheer firepower and occupied them. Warriors don’t like being defeated all too much, and even though (after the Norsendi government stabilized and quietly built up an armed force, shooting metaphorical glances at the Ports, which prompted the Industrialists to withdraw their soldiers to protect themselves) the Industrialists left years previous. Thanks to the Sorcerers’ subtle help, Tomoshibuya (temp. name for Warriors’ main island) was independent once again. There has been a very good alliance since then between the two peoples. The friendship makes Industrialists nervous, as, with the Artisans hating them as well, if any one of the two races (Artisans/Warriors) declared war, the Ports would be surrounded from south, east, and west, so they could be overwhelmed.
b: The reason it would be Artisans or Warriors declaring war even though Sorcerers have more strained relations with Industrialists is because Sorcerers hate getting into full-scale wars with others, because using magic really does put a strain on them. (see upcoming notes about magic) They know they have a chance at winning with their allies, but, besides the physical limitations, they really do hate conflict, not nearly as much as Healers, but they don’t like wars and don’t like Industrialists for that reason.
c: The Warrior, Sorcerer, and Artisan alliance has been called in the Ports the “south (Artisans)/west (Warriors)/east (Sorcerers) conspiracy,” a term coined by A3D’s leading newspaper. (SWD for short.)
d: On the other side we would have Industrialists and Nomads, who would join because they would prefer to keep good relations with Industrialists, who dominate the economy. Healers would stay by themselves, but would give help if anyone from any side came for aid. They may send a temporary dispatch of helpers to the Sorcerers, as they are also allies due to the Healer forest being close to Norsendr, but with a warning that if they let the workers so much as touch Warriors, they would go right back home because the Warriors got what they deserved for be such war-mongers!
2) Warriors and Healers, by definition, don’t like each other because of the way they live and see the world. Healers would not, obviously, be the ones to declare war, but could reciprocate. Industrialists would be on their side, because they are still worried about the threat of the south/west/east alliance, prompting the Artisans to join the Healers. The Sorcerers would decline joining, as they would not join a war if not directly against the Industrialists. Even with the Warriors’ skill and the Artisans’ passion (and good numbers), the south/west alliance would lose to firepower and unfaltering numbers.
b: But the war might not happen at all, with Healers declining the invitation to fight.
[Ta-da! Magic notes are coming along, maybe some clothing notes. Nomads will be worked on, along with Gypies since the two go hand in hand. And if I can, I’ll try and find some notes I wrote in the summer, modify them, and send them in. I should scan character designs. Ah well.]
Something interesting.
The scope of the world has changed largely since it was first created. The Academia played a much larger part, and over half the players were school-age. (They are now mostly in their twenty-somethings.)
The first characters designed were Zinc, Rainbow, Rosequartz, Avalon, and ZVX. Undesigned characters mentioned in the previous’ blurbs about themselves were Jadestone, POSOC, Serafina, and TMFA. Armadda and an unused design for Tai Fan appear alter in the back of the sketchbook.
There was a large focus on a possibly canon Armadda/Xerix romance, and Armadda had, for no other reason than because I wrote a poem for the two, had a curse placed on her that made her rhyme incessantly. A Verling (Silver Lining)/Sudo/Avalon/Zinc love square was in the forefront as well, centered around Sudo. It went like this: Sudo chased after Zinc (who Did Not Want), Avalon chased after Sudo (who was oblivious), and Sudo eventually ends up with Verling. (What.) This was all based off gossip I heard at the time. The two ships were combined with Avalon cheering on Xerix and Armadda’s romance to give her a get go to unleash full wrath on Sudo. There were also many unfinished ficlets with characters (Zinc or Beavo) remarking on how much UST settled in the room when “those two” were near each other.
POSOC was originally a Sorcerer, a diviner who mentored Renier.
There were many different subsets of Sorcery . For instance: potions, runes (still in use, sort of), making inanimate objects move by breathing life into them, divination (slightly used for Kai Yves), and imlosion (something akin to Avatar’s bending). What I’ll probably settle on is to have Sorcerers use a type of like in HP-verse but without wands, and all other random ideas were thrown away.
The first races created were Sorcerers, Nomads, and Warriors. Gypsies were the last.
Clothes had a large focus (still do). Zinc and Reniers’ clothing has barely changed besides slight changes in the collars and Renier’s glasses. Avalon’s, however, have had major changes done thrice now and have recently settled on something Chinese. Xerix has barely changed, as he’s become much less of an important character, but if I do care to redesign him, his clothes will probably resemble Avalon’s and not be so emo-looking.
Nomads had awfully strange ears, like some kind of animal. Gypsies had them too, only slightly different.
Zinc’s surname was not Rovaviemi but Caraway. She was implied to be more powerful than Renier instead of them balancing out. This was, thankfully, changed.
Renier had shoulder-length hair instead of her slightly long style, interesting sleeves, and a motif. She resembled Yuki Nagato from the Haruhi Suzumiya series (which I was reading at the time), but currently she’s much more bored and not nearly as nice. Which is good.
A brief start on Nomads.
True speakers of the tongue, in a way that can barely be managed by non-native speakers, speak in a breathy tone, so every vowel sounds like it has an ‘h’ at the end. (To stay true to the language and accent, Rosinquar is typed as Rohsihnquahr.) You can’t speak it very quickly, lending speakers a firm and ‘I-know-what-I’m-saying’ tone. The language is intricate, but simple if you understand it, unlike the regional dialects of Norsendr which are so ridiculously difficult some Norsendh learn it as a second language. (But that’s later.)
Nomads are, contradictingly, adapting and unadapting people. They took the Industrialists’ rise to power gracefully and cooperated nicely, but never allow people to leave caravans. They stick to their traditions and are orthodox in their religious values. They are on good terms diplomatically with Industrialists but, like everything else, they don’t trust them the slightest. Nomads only trust people in their caravans.
Magic.
First off, there are severe physical limitations. For everyone, your heart is to your left, your soul to the right, and your magic core to the middle, at your collarbone. For a Sorcerer, however, the magic core helps sustain the other two and plays a vital role in the life of the person. If overworked, the Sorcerer’s heart can stop or they can lapse into a coma at worst, having trouble breathing at best.
Sorcerers recite spells vocally. They can do it silently, but it takes more effort. There are no other items needed in this.
Another subsection is runes, which do different things from spells. Spells influence the physical world, as in levitating things or setting something on fire or having a person’s arm fall off. Runes contact the spirit world, which is a whole other matter. Runes are also the main written language of Sorcerers, though it’s rarely written and mostly oral.
The more damage/effect a spell causes, the more taxing it is for the caster. Simple.
Something interesting.
The scope of the world has changed largely since it was first created. The Academia played a much larger part, and over half the players were school-age. (They are now mostly in their twenty-somethings.)
The first characters designed were Zinc, Rainbow, Rosequartz, Avalon, and ZVX. Undesigned characters mentioned in the previous’ blurbs about themselves were Jadestone, POSOC, Serafina, and TMFA. Armadda and an unused design for Tai Fan appear alter in the back of the sketchbook.
There was a large focus on a possibly canon Armadda/Xerix romance, and Armadda had, for no other reason than because I wrote a poem for the two, had a curse placed on her that made her rhyme incessantly. A Verling (Silver Lining)/Sudo/Avalon/Zinc love square was in the forefront as well, centered around Sudo. It went like this: Sudo chased after Zinc (who Did Not Want), Avalon chased after Sudo (who was oblivious), and Sudo eventually ends up with Verling. (What.) This was all based off gossip I heard at the time. The two ships were combined with Avalon cheering on Xerix and Armadda’s romance to give her a get go to unleash full wrath on Sudo. There were also many unfinished ficlets with characters (Zinc or Beavo) remarking on how much UST settled in the room when “those two” were near each other.
POSOC was originally a Sorcerer, a diviner who mentored Renier.
There were many different subsets of Sorcery . For instance: potions, runes (still in use, sort of), making inanimate objects move by breathing life into them, divination (slightly used for Kai Yves), and imlosion (something akin to Avatar’s bending). What I’ll probably settle on is to have Sorcerers use a type of like in HP-verse but without wands, and all other random ideas were thrown away.
The first races created were Sorcerers, Nomads, and Warriors. Gypsies were the last.
Clothes had a large focus (still do). Zinc and Reniers’ clothing has barely changed besides slight changes in the collars and Renier’s glasses. Avalon’s, however, have had major changes done thrice now and have recently settled on something Chinese. Xerix has barely changed, as he’s become much less of an important character, but if I do care to redesign him, his clothes will probably resemble Avalon’s and not be so emo-looking.
Nomads had awfully strange ears, like some kind of animal. Gypsies had them too, only slightly different.
Zinc’s surname was not Rovaviemi but Caraway. She was implied to be more powerful than Renier instead of them balancing out. This was, thankfully, changed.
Renier had shoulder-length hair instead of her slightly long style, interesting sleeves, and a motif. She resembled Yuki Nagato from the Haruhi Suzumiya series (which I was reading at the time), but currently she’s much more bored and not nearly as nice. Which is good.
A brief start on Nomads.
True speakers of the tongue, in a way that can barely be managed by non-native speakers, speak in a breathy tone, so every vowel sounds like it has an ‘h’ at the end. (To stay true to the language and accent, Rosinquar is typed as Rohsihnquahr.) You can’t speak it very quickly, lending speakers a firm and ‘I-know-what-I’m-saying’ tone. The language is intricate, but simple if you understand it, unlike the regional dialects of Norsendr which are so ridiculously difficult some Norsendh learn it as a second language. (But that’s later.)
Nomads are, contradictingly, adapting and unadapting people. They took the Industrialists’ rise to power gracefully and cooperated nicely, but never allow people to leave caravans. They stick to their traditions and are orthodox in their religious values. They are on good terms diplomatically with Industrialists but, like everything else, they don’t trust them the slightest. Nomads only trust people in their caravans.
Magic.
First off, there are severe physical limitations. For everyone, your heart is to your left, your soul to the right, and your magic core to the middle, at your collarbone. For a Sorcerer, however, the magic core helps sustain the other two and plays a vital role in the life of the person. If overworked, the Sorcerer’s heart can stop or they can lapse into a coma at worst, having trouble breathing at best.
Sorcerers recite spells vocally. They can do it silently, but it takes more effort. There are no other items needed in this.
Another subsection is runes, which do different things from spells. Spells influence the physical world, as in levitating things or setting something on fire or having a person’s arm fall off. Runes contact the spirit world, which is a whole other matter. Runes are also the main written language of Sorcerers, though it’s rarely written and mostly oral.
The more damage/effect a spell causes, the more taxing it is for the caster. Simple.
Healers.
Healing is different from most medicine practiced by other races. It’s the method. [Method undecided as of now; when I have time I’ll think something up.] It’s not magic; rather, a hereditary knowledge passed down through generations. Healers are much more familiar with herbs and obscure but effective treatments, and to have them as an ally would be awfully useful as they can bring a man back from the brink of death in five minutes flat, so your troops would barely ever be depleted. They are taught a degree of fighting, although it is more dodging than striking, and they are cautioned that life is very precious. As their skills are not magic, they cannot fix a magically inflicted malady, and must ask a favor of a Sorcerer to save the stricken. You must have a cold heart to refuse a Healer because most of them ultimately mean well, and they have rather big eyes (see upcoming notes on the peoples’ traits and such). Because they love life so much, they won’t die easily and will try and fight back if you attack them and won’t reason with the Healer. The only things a Healer truly hates is death and a thickheaded killer. They rarely head out of their forest, and their central government is very small and only exists for diplomacy with other people: the individual towns rule themselves. Instead of thinking Healers as a nation, it would be wiser to think of them as a group of nations living in peaceful coexistance side-by-side. Their villages are close-knit. They are not naive; they know the cruel realities of human life and death, but strive for an ideal world. As a result of their abilities, Healers grow at a fast rate, shaving off ten years of their life, and their hair is always long and they are usually pretty tall.
Healers:
Armadda Brnc
Sudo Brnc
Nilly Bcbck
Luna Ltlv
Midni Fdlr
Agi Fsh
[A lot, I’m sorry. But magic note and a bit on Healers and Nomads! Hope you like!]
[I just got to this, and I think that the idea for a love triangle/square/what have you that was in there was fairly magnificent. And I mean this. Seriously. <3
That's going to be a wonderful story.]
[If it ever eeven happens. The characters exist, and interact… is a bad thing to say that everyone on here is like a giant sim game for me to manipulate and enjoy? But I’ll shove out some drabbles and I’ll write them for school assignments. And if someone chooses a character I might be up for writing something… really, it’s the world that interests me. Right now I’m concentrating on fleshing the world and everyone out and adding more characters that have slightly horrible values… I use too many ellipses.]
The beginning of my Apollopunk vs. Applepunk story:
To a Distant Day
Night had fallen on the mountain by the time Kerri reached the summit, and the last purple twinge of twilight was fading softly away as she got into a comfortable position atop the boulder. It was not very large, and the top was smooth enough to enable the girl to sit upon. She brought her legs up, reached out to interlock her fingers, and pulled them tightly to her chest.
She could remain in this position comfortably for quite a while without becoming tired or sore, with her chin resting on the tops of her kneecaps.
Her eyes were opened wide, taking in the cascading torrent of pixie dust that filled the sky above her head. Now that her eyes were adapted to the dark, she could almost see on the ground by the light that came off of the band of the Milky Way, and the dust bands that hid the very center from her view seemed almost three-dimensional in their structure. 400 billion suns staring back.
Moving on from the galaxy itself, she could see two vaguely oval-shaped wisps, a bit like the seedpods of a dandelion, hanging in the sky near her left shoulder. Satellite galaxies of the Milky Way, distant wanderers in empty space that had been caught up by its gravity and become its fellow travelers, its companions in the night.
“The Clouds of Magellan.†Kerri whispered, reverently. Magellan. Magellan was the first to see them. Magellan had been the first to try and sail around the world. He hadn’t made it all the way, but he’d seen the clouds follow him throughout the journey. They’d been there above the stormy waters of the South Atlantic, the rugged mountains of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, and the placid islands of the South Seas.
She could imagine standing there onboard Magellan’s ship, feeling the rocking of the waves beneath her feet. Kerri exhaled slowly, savoring the fantasy…
Be-BOOOP! White light suddenly filled Kerri’s eyes as the electronic beep sounded, and her heart leaped up her throat as she scrambled to her feet. She’d been so careful, so watchful…
“Terminate simulation 3991- Cerro Paranal/Atacama October 23 AC.†She commanded, scrambling to her feet and squinting in the sudden light. The mountains and sky vanished with another electronic beep, replaced by a circular room with a curving domed ceiling. The rock Kerri had sat on was now just an ordinary bench, constructed of the same gleaming silver metal as the rest of the room. Now if only she could get away before-
“Attention: do not move! Attention, kindly do not move while the Monitor-unit determines your identity!â€
The vaguely-synthesized male voice from behind Kerri meant only one thing:
Caught.
She turned to face the Monitor-unit, a hovering white construct of polished metal with a meter-high body that would have been smoothly oval-shaped if not for the fact that its dome-shaped head rose about a dozen centimeters above the rest of the body on a polished-steel column that constituted the robot’s neck. At charging stations, the neck retracted, and the Monitor-units rested, looking, Kerri always privately thought, like a row of eggs.
From its hovering position, the Monitor-unit’s two bright glowing blue “eyes†were level with Kerri’s green ones as the drone made a humming noise indicating it was scanning her appearance, from her sneakers to her white jeans to her long-sleeved shiny green shirt to her shoulder-length red hair.
With a beep, it finished its scan and spoke again.
“Designate: Kerri Arlene Hopper, born 5 April 21 Anno Consortionis. Present age: 16. Affiliation: Wozniak Institute for Gifted Youth. You are not scheduled to be using Simulation Room 3B at this time.â€
“I apologize, Monitor.†Kerri said.
“Miss Hopper, according to the Institute’s databases, this is your third schedule-violation infraction in two months, and as such, I am ordered to accompany you back to Lovelace Dormitory at once. Do you understand this message or does it need to be repeated?â€
“I understand, Monitor.†Kerri said stiffly, and followed the robot out.
The corridor outside was gleaming white, and the hums and beeps of various machines could be heard inside as Kerrie walked alongside the Monitor-unit along the polished floor.
“Gates’ teeth.†She swore under her breath as she looked down at her gray sneakers, still upset about being caught out after curfew. She knew how competitive the advanced programming classes were and how only the best students- in terms of both academic and disciplinary records- could hope to be selected. Another infraction was another mark on her record, another mark making it less likely she’d be selected, less likely she could fulfill her dream of becoming a programmer.
But that moment thinking of Magellan under the stars made the whole business feel worthwhile. She knew it was against the rules, but Kerri couldn’t hate herself for doing it, try as she might. Something in her just couldn’t believe that anything that felt so right could be wrong, at least not wholly and completely wrong.
The simulation room was on an upper floor of the Institute, and as they walked by an elegantly curved rombazoidal window, Kerri could look out and see the City below. In the street, a few cars still milled their way about, like working ants, but most people were already home, preparing for tomorrow’s festival. The buildings themselves were brightly illuminated, their sleek white or gray facades overlapping the further into the distance she looked. And above it all, Kerri could see the radiant Purple Nebula that dominated the otherwise featureless black sky with its luminous clouds of varying pink and purple hues.
“Monitor, why can’t we see the stars?†Kerri asked.
“Please repeat your question, I did not hear it correctly.†The Monitor-unit responded in its toneless voice.
“The stars, Monitor. Why can’t we see them here in the City? We learned about them in classes and I wish to further my education.†Monitor-units, Kerri knew, had a directive to be more helpful to students who mentioned positive words in conjunction with their education.
“The loss of the stars was a consequence of the City’s perfect functioning according to the will of The Source, Miss Hopper. In his infinite kindness and wisdom, The Source bestowed upon us the gift of the magnificent Purple Nebula instead. Only the wastelanders and barbarians who live beyond our borders see the stars, and everyone knows those areas are far too dangerous to venture into simply to see…â€
Kerri had loved to look at the Purple Nebula ever since she was young. It never changed, but she’d passed many hours counting the rays and strands or watching the moon appear among them in its phases. Still, a change would be nice once in a while, she thought.
Not that she was crazy enough to want to venture into the wastelands. Sure, there were fascinating, interesting places like the ones she’d read about Magellan visiting, but to get there you had to brave the desolate wastelands themselves, and the uncivilized hordes who lived there…
Although, to see that Milky Way, maybe one could get some sort of armed escort…
Kerri’s mental debate was still raging as the elevator doors closed and they descended with a whoosh to Lovelace Dorm.
Twenty minutes later, Kerri had showered, taken care of her other hygienic needs, and changed into her sleeping clothes. She used her key card to open the door of her room, where her roommate, Catriona, was waiting.
“Where did you go? I saw the Monitor leave when I was in the common room.†Catriona asked, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her tablet in her lap. The light from the device gave a blue tinge to the taller girl’s cropped blond hair.
“I was in the simulation room up on the seventh floor, Cat.â€
“AGAIN, Kerri? What was so interesting you had to break curfew to go and look at it?†Catriona said, sounding annoyed. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. You’re a really good roommate and if you get expelled, I just know they’ll put me with Aiko or Manoa…â€
“I was looking at an old recording…†Kerri started, not wanting to have to talk about things she couldn’t explain.
“Of?â€
“The… stars. The Milky Way and the Clouds of Magellan. It was so beautiful, Cat, so fantastic-â€
“Eh, whatever you say. Just please don’t sneak out again.†Catriona looked at her, concerned “I’m only saying this because I’m your friend.â€
“Ok, Cat.†Kerri said, crossing the room to her own bed and pulling out an object from one of the sliding drawers underneath. It was an old hardcover printbook, a bit tattered and scratched, that she’d found off in a corner somewhere. “True Adventure Stories†she whispered, reading the title as she always did upon pulling it out, and opened it up to the place she had marked..
“I don’t get why you like reading that printbook so much. Can’t you just get the information on your tablet?†Cat asked.
“I don’t know. I just like it, I guess. It’s sort of… personal.â€
“You’re weird, Kerri. Good, but weird.â€
Kerri ignored the friendly teasing and began to read silently:
“Between them and rescue lay a series of steep mountain peaks and glaciers- an uncharted island interior no one had ever crossed. But Shackleton was not a man to let such details bother him. After McNeish had fitted screws from the ‘James Caird’ to their boots, to act as crude crampons, Shackleton, Worsley and Crean set off under a luminous full moon…â€
Love! Love love! Write! Write write write write! I want more please!
Ziiiiiinc! Pleasepleaseplease?
I’m drawing a comic… I’ll scan it as soon as I can! (Fourth page and counting! >u<)
Yay
Oh, and I finally made a design for you. Third time’s the charm!
AN ANNOUNCEMENT! If anyone wants me to write a scene (just an everyday scene, or an action scene, either or) between two characters, I will! This would be to flesh out my writing on the continent and to show everyone how people get along. I’m posting a cast list on the planning thread…
[A small tidbit of… something. Hm. I’m not quite sure what it is. But there’s a much longer piece coming, but I’m proofreading it before I post it. Two days or so, kay?
]
Kit had learned not to complain about her sister since she had returned. Graun refused to talk about what had happened, but Kit had seen the scars and tattoos overlapping the older girl’s shoulders, arms, and back that couldn’t be covered with makeup nor covered by clothes. There was also a long, terrible scar that ran along the right side of Graun’s face, blinding her in that eye. Graun was ashamed, and hated with a passion the marks that littered her skin.
Kit’s sister also had nightmares that left her screaming and crying, and hours shut away in her study with the door securely locked. When Kit asked here I made coffee do you want any or Reth Hawkk is asking to see you I think you should or Graun there’s a lightning storm, I’m scared please came you come out, there was unbreakable silence from behind the door. When Graun emerged, hours or days later, there would be a fire in her eyes and she would make something new or update their printing machine, but the fire seemed fake, but Kit didn’t question because Graun was Graun and Graun had a bad past starting with a lightning storm, and she was out and about, and that’s what mattered, right? So Kit took it all with a smile and two pigtails and an ink-covered apron, waiting patiently for the day Graun would tell her why the spiraling symbols are present all over her body.
And Kit has become good at waiting.
[BUMBUMBUM family drama. This is so BS’d I don’t even… anyway, characters are Kittymine, Groundhog (sorry for the negative light… it was all so I could draw tatoos), and RtH. And happy birthday, Kittymine!]
[Also, for Alice’s birthday she finally has a design and most of a personality. Pan has a personality but no looks yet… rest assured, Alice is pretty freaking awesome.]
[HERE IT IS.]
Lavender-Blue
“Xerix?”
“Yes?”
Avalon sighed and sat down on a log, not seeming to mind the dirt covering it and mussing her fine dress. Xerix hadn’t asked questions, as Avalon hadn’t, about their time of separation, but he suspected she had managed to wheedle quite a bit of money out of her acquaintances. Xerix had been even less lawful than she, just stealing his necessities with little mind to baubles, so he was clothed rather plainly. But never mind that; Avalon was giving him a Look. A regal Look, the only one that had a chance of cowing Xerix. It was sharp and commanding, demanding that you tell her the truth or else. Xerix didn’t want to consider what else might be, so he quietly swallowed the small lump. He didn’t like the Look because, although he was ashamed to admit it, it honestly did scare him.
“Where are we going, roni?” Avalon said it pleasantly, calmly even, but Xerix was not fooled.
“An associate of a benefactor of mine,” he answered quite truthfully, because what else could he do?
Her smile grew. Awira. “Why?”
“The man apparently has a large influence and he owes my benefactor, but I have the promise of help that was pledged to him now.” No questions; Avalon knew it as well as he. “I think it would be wise if we could get some horses, and weaponry. Maybe other things, as well.”
Avalon’s smile turned more genuine at this, no longer threatening a bloody demise full of rats and parasites. “That would be good,” she mused, toeing off her shoes and letting down her hair. “My feet are sore, and I’m sleepy. Can we sleep now? I bet you’re sleepy too.”
Xerix gave her a quick, fond, rare smile, laughing under his breath. “Yea, we can set up camp. I’m tired, as well.”
They made quick work of setting up the small tent and building a fire (well, it was mostly Xerix, but he didn’t mind Avalon continuing to sit on her log, talking to him and massaging her feet). Avalon volunteered for first watch, so Xerix bid her good night and gratefully crept into his bed linens to drift off.
———————
When Xerix awoke, it was to the small of cooking meat. He shot up, stumbling out of the tent practically shouting obscenities, his dagger drawn in preparation for a fight.
…which was embarrassing as it almost hit Avalon in the face. Her reflexes, luckily, had caught Xerix’s wrist a centimeter away from her eye. Avalon’s surprised look quickly morphed into a stern glare, and she fixed him with it as she lowered his arm. “Well, that’s a way to wake up in the morning, stab your sister in the face.” But she wasn’t really angry, with a smile tugging on her lips. “And here I thought I was being all nice, offering you Norsendi sausage. Do you not like Norsendi sausage?”
“I’ve never tried it,” Xerix admitted, then paused and thought for a second. “Wait, Norsendi? As in… sorcerers? Did you manage to go up north?”
“Nope!” she replied, with a cheeky grin now present on her face. “But we have a visitor!”
Xerix followed Avalon towards the fire pit, towards a man with blond hair tied back in a short ponytail but leaving two locks to frame his face. A pair of glasses had slid down to the edge of his nose, and he wore peasant clothes that were of high quality. He looked up as the two approached, revealing eyes of lavender-blue, then smiling invitingly, scooting aside to make room for the two. As they obeyed the unspoken command and sat, he gave the frying pan he was holding one last toss, and then served the modest breakfast. As he placed the meat on three plates (divided accordingly, of course), he questioned, “Coffee? Tea? Alcohol? Milk?â€
“Tea,†Avalon answered for both of them. “Southeastern, if you have any?â€
In reply, the man gave each a steaming cup, a smirk curling over his mouth as if he had known all along. They ate in silence, not speaking until Xerix had drained the last of his tea. The man then put his hands under his chin, eyes flickering between the two faces. “Now,†he began, “I understand you are looking for someone?â€
They nodded in unison. Xerix’s eyes flashed as he uttered, “Yes, we are, but who exactly are you?â€
The man’s smile grew, still not quite reaching his eyes. “It depends. Who are you looking for?â€
Xerix sighed in frustration, eyebrows crashing together. “We won’t get an answer out of you until you get an answer out of us, are we?â€
“Yes, to put it simply.†The smile had not wavered. “So answer.â€
Xerix looked in his eyes, trying to see what this infuriating man’s motives were. But he couldn’t- it was like he was hitting a lavender-blue wall. He didn’t like it, not at all. “Fine then,†he spat out. “We’re trying to find Pyyj Y.â€
The man laughed, overall sounding warm and happy, but there was something dry and humorless underneath the joy. His eyes now sparkled with mirth as he remarked, “Then you have found him.â€
Xerix and Avalon gaped, shocked. Avalon snapped out of it first, laughing giddily, grabbing Xerix’s shoulders and shaking them. “We found him! Did you hear that?! We found him!!â€
“Yea,†Xerix muttered, eyes still trained on Pyyj, mind still not trusting him the slightest. “Yea, we found him.â€
———————
After Avalon had calmed down, and she and Xerix drank more tea (which tasted, Avalon commented, slightly of citrus), the conversation continued.
“So, why are you looking for me?†Pyyj inquire, looking like he owned the world (starting with the log he was lounging on). He had an intricately carved, bone pipe held in his hand, dark turquoise smoke wasting out of it. Xerix crinkled his nose and gagged at the saccharine smell, but Avalon looked quite unaffected: narcotics, he had heard, were quite common about the courts that were her home.
Xerix leaned forward, elbows balanced on his knees, giving the older man a serious look. “I am now in possession of a favor.†He spoke emphatically, and the sternness gained an air of distrust. “You now owe me something, Y, and I-“
“No,†Pyyj cut him off. “Not ‘yee-i.’ I understand your accent makes it difficult but please pronounce it ‘wi.’â€
Xerix’s eyelid twitched in irritation, once, twice, thrice, but the he brushed the interruption aside and continued. “…and I’d like to redeem it. We want two horses, sufficient weapons, and if possible general currency. Although the last is optional, we really do need the first and second.â€
Pyyj hummed, seemingly thinking it over as he checked a pocket watch. He grinned happily and let out a small giggle.
The sun was high in the sky, and it would have been sweltering if not for the shade the trees surrounding them cast. But the heat appeared to be getting to Xerix anyway- his head and limbs felt heavy, like concrete attached to his torso, and a numbing sensation was creeping its way up towards his head from his toes and snaking through his arms to his fingers, which tingled before they went dead.
Xerix sluggishly turned to Avalon, who had been unusually quiet for most of the conversation, something so unlike her loudness and boldness and hyperactivity. She looked peculiar, unblinking eyes gazing into Pyyj’s following them unwaveringly.
He labored to notice the continuing quiet laughter of Pyyj, and lavender-blue, lavender-blue shone brightly.
The last thing Xerix heard before the numbness took his mind was, “So, I have heard on the wind that you are royal, yes, Neko?â€
———————
“Awira… awira…â€
He was floating, weightless, in a gray space.
“Awira… awira, Roni, wake up…â€
The words came through, yes, but once they managed to they were muddled and unclear to him.
“Awira! Roni! I’m sorry already, so wake up!!â€
Xerix sat up violently, choking and gasping like a fish out of water. He then moaned as his head felt like a boulder-weight upon his shoulders. The first thing he saw when the colors stopped swimming together in front of his eyes was Avalon’s upset face, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. Then she burrowed his face into his chest, the tears finally coming and dampening his shirt. “Awira awira awira! Stupid, stupid, stupid! You great fat lug! Do you know- Roni, do you know how worried I was?! Taji!!†She pummeled his torso with her fists, not at all restraining herself.
Xerix patted her head awkwardly as she continued to rain punches on him and swear with a plethora of curses (goodness, where had she heard that?). When she finally collected herself, she pulled away and waited until he stopped wheezing, all evidence of tears gone.
“He drugged us,†she stated simply, handing Xerix a cup of tea. “A sedative for you, a veritaserum for me.â€
Xerix blanched. “So, he knows about…?â€
“Yeah.†She nodded grimly, pursing her lips and averting her eyes. “Anyways, you’ve been out since forever and I’ve been worried sick.†Avalon swatted at his head, but he dodged it easily.
Xerix rose, stretching his arms, commenting to Avalon about food and eating it since he was starving. They left the tent at that, and were greeted with a sight.
Two handsome, healthy horses, both a sorrel breed, were tethered to a tree in front of them. They rushed over to the animals, Avalon to stroke the horses’ heads and coo on how pretty they were, Xerix to rummage through the bulging saddlebags. Food and water, maps, Industrialist and Artisan coins, but most importantly long sharp swords gleaming in the sunlight, pistols and ammunition, and scores of other weaponry. There was a note tacked onto one of the saddles, Avalon found, and it read-
You got the horses for the favour, but the information is what bought you the rest.
I guarantee you will not come to harm, Miss Neko. You are truly a charming girl and learn to manipulate that.
Mr. Tomera, continue looking after your ‘sister’ and reading people well. You are right, I am a scoundrel.
Best regards,
Pyyj Y
(H&H Apothecary and Teashop)
——————————————————————————————————————————————
NOTES:
Translations:
Roni: big brother, a term of affection.
Everything else is an obscenity so I won’t list their translation. ^^â€
General:
• Avalon and Xerix threat each other like brother and sister. They are not blood-related however. Xerix has a large soft spot for Avalon, and she is the only one who can silence him with a Look. Also, the only truly trust each other.
• Avalon and Xerix are speaking the southern language.
• Avalon had her hair up for travelling; she usually has it down.
• Xerix didn’t kill his benefactor, geez. I think.
• Xerix refers to it as “global†currency, but it’s only continental specifically. He just thinks it’s global.
• Norsendi sausage is very good, like Artisan coffee.
• Ohmygod, Pyyj, don’t offer kids alcohol. DDD:
• Avalon and Xerix are from southeastern Tomoshibuya (unlike Serafina, who is from the island further north). Warrior tea varies from region to region, and the southeastern kind is the rather famous one throughout the continent. The Warriors like their tea how mainstream America likes their hamburgers, or the French like their snails, or the British like their… um, tea. Wut.
• Don’t drink don’t smoke. What do you do?
• Narcotics were popular for a time in Warrior courts, so Avalon’s used to the smell due to her childhood. Maybe that explains her behavior…
• The drugs were in the tea… they taste like citrus. Watch what you eat!
• Gosh Pyyj why so creepy?
• OMG accents.
• I redeemed him in the end (“oh yea real person huhâ€).
A/N:
Don’t expect Xerix to be nearly this nice to other people (except for maybe Serafina). Srsly.
Pyyj (I <3 writing him~), the word sorrel, and narcotics pop up a lot in my stories. I suppose that’s a… bad thing… um.
You’ll notice that Pyyj wrote in British English. It’s a principle of mine to use American English when writing, as I am American and people died for me to be so! I’ll only use British English if the narrator seems that way.
Initially, the story was to be continued with a company of some sorts finding htem, but I wanted to end it simply and neatly.
This was written during winter break and typed two weeks afterward.
References…
Avalon is a daughter of a prominent ruler in southeastern Tomoshibuya, and mentored under Terr, who was Xerix’s cherished adopted father (Xerix’s father died when he was 12). When Terr was persecuted for “spreading lies and filth†into Avalon’s mind. This accusation was given by Avalon’s siblings’ teachers, but Terr had to flee. He arranged for Avalon to be able to find Xerix, and she eventually managed to. (No one knows where Terr is, by the way, or even if he managed to make it out alive.) But in one fatal night, Avalon’s entire family and the court were assassinated, so Avalon had to escape with Xerix. So now only Avalon, Xerix, and Pyyj know of her heritage.
My first Muse fanfiction in forever, and possibly my first ever that I intend to see through till the end. It’s called “Kokopelli on Trial”, and it features a currently unexplored crossover opportunity.
The judge banged his gavel once and said, “Court is now in session for the trial of Kokopelli.”
“The prosecution is ready, Your Honor,” said attorney Miles Edgeworth.
“The defense is ready, Your Honor,” said Phoenix Wright, the lawyer opposite him.
“Mr. Edgeworth, please state your case to the court,” said the judge, as he always did.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Edgeworth replied, as he always did. “Two nights ago in Kokonino County, an attack occurred the likes of which has only been seen once before. Two nights ago, Urania was targeted by a SMART PIE.”
Everyone in the courtroom started talking at once, and the judge banged his gavel to put a stop to it.
“On the previous occasion,” Edgeworth continued smoothly, “this attack was conducted by none other than the defendant, Koko-”
“OBJECTION!” Phoenix Wright yelled, setting his hands on his podium. “How do you know that he was the perpetrator for these past attacks?”
“I have all the necessary legal documents in hand, Mr. Wright,” Edgeworth said defiantly. “Now, Your Honor, if you will let me finish…”
“Objection overruled,” sighed the judge.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Edgeworth said, casting a triumphant glance at Wright. “The defendant, Kokopelli, was the one who conducted these previous attacks. His actions, in addition, seemed to be specifically targeted towards Urania on these earlier occasions. For these reasons, among others, I believe that he is GUILTY of this current attack!”
“HOLD IT!” Wright shouted, pointing at Edgeworth dramatically. “You said, ‘among others.’ Can you tell the court what any of these other reasons are?”
“Some of these will become apparent after some witnesses are called up, but if you insist, I have submitted to the judge a crucial piece of evidence. You may find it in the court record.” Edgeworth said indifferently.
Fuming, Wright checked the court record. He saw that Edgeworth had submitted an electronic transmitter which had been confirmed to be a Smart Pie component. It was set for KPS coordinates 66.01N and 12.44W.
“Very well, Mr. Edgeworth. You may call your first witness.” said the judge.
Edgeworth nodded and said, “The prosecution would like to call Urania to the stand.”
This is really just a teaser, the real fun will start when she steps up to the stand!
Zinc, don’t you suddenly feel a really, really strong urge to continue your fanfic/world thing and post it here?
I’m doing! I really am! It’s just that I’ve decided to make it a wee bit more serious and plotty, and maybe more art so I’m redesigning my mains hardcore now with different faces and such. I have Zinc and Armadda basically done, with some healthy helpings of Xerix Sudo and Renier on the backburner and Avalon and Beat waiting to go.
I’m figuring out a lot of things, mostly, and I have been working on sketching and planning a lot. There’s a hiatus on the comic because I want to incorporate it into the plot, and there is some… rather serious subject matter planned for the end. I won’t spoil it just yet, but all the character designs you’ve seen won’t come for a while.
TMFA will play a pivotal role, along with Fiddler, Avalon, and POSOC.
You all have CLAMP to thank for this. This get-down-to-work feeling I have. I want this to HAPPEN, and it won’t unless I work hard.
I’ll try to make some stuff, or at least send in an outline. But as I said I’ll be on vacation so at least a few weeks on nothing from me.
And stuff will start coming, and it’ll happen before October. I will start this thing.
*soundtrack*
Some new things:
Beat is now a boy (looking like an Asian Beatle, too), to even the girl:boy ratio to 4:3 from 5:2.
Angsty backstories have been added.
My first serious whole main character picture is on its way.
Mallory’s character is evolving.
The Industrialists are getting a bit more focus.
Avalon is under some redo.
Xerix and Armadda are being shipped like crazy but dynamics between them are changing (same for Mallory and Behcaehl/Beahvo/??).
Examinations of worlds and the geography and technology of the regions.
I want to have the first few bits out in a few months (read: their births, lol), but no promises. I have no idea where to start.
Just a random little parody, I figured this was the best thread since the “Muser Parodies” thread is closed…
On March 14, 2029, the Musican Defense Forces established an elite school for the top one percent of their operatives. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of anti-lagomorphic combat and to insure that the handful of individuals who graduated were the best bunny fighters in the world. They succeeded. Today, BEACON calls it Advanced Tactical School. The agents call it: TOP BUN.
—
“During the War of the Pies, the MDF success rate was twelve-to-one. We defeated twelve HPBs for every field agent lost or injured. In the Battle of San Francisco, this ratio fell to three-to-one. Our agents depended far too much on computers and other shiny gizmos. They lost their close-combat skills.”
“Top Bun was created to teach ALC. Anti-Lagomorphic Combat…Bunny-fighting. By the Mariana Islands Campaign, the ratio was back up to twelve-to-one.”
“Our supervisor was the very first man to win the Top Bun trophy. You won’t find a finer HPB-fighter anywhere. Commander Prarilius Canix, call sign POSOC.”
“You’re here ’cause you’re the top one per cent of all BEACON operatives. We’re going to make you better. You’ll take part in at least two combat simulations a day, attend classes and evaluations. In each simulation, you’re gonna meet a different challenge. We’ll teach you to push your capabilities farther than you’ve ever gone before, farther than you may have thought was humanly possible. Now, we don’t make policy here. The Muser High Council up in Iceland does that. We are their instruments and although we are not currently at war, we must always act as though we are. The HPBs can return at any moment.”
“In case some of you wonder who the best is, they’re on this plaque. The best duo from each class have their names on it. They have the option to come back here and be Top Bun instructors. You think you will be on the plaque?”
“Yes, sir!”
“That’s pretty arrogant, considering the company you’re in.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I like that in an agent. But remember, when it’s over out there, we’re all on the same team. This school is about combat. There are no points for second place. Dismissed, and welcome to Top Bun.”