tales from the wind temple in appalachia: a writing thread

Salix Babylonika · 2014-10-04 04:33:44

This thread is for the aggregation and discussion of my loosely-connected series of stories about a city that engulfs most of the solar system, set in the far future. The three written so far are posted below. Updates will likely be sporadic and come in bursts.

Posted below is one story, and two older ones whose events and descriptions of city life are not necessarily "canon" any longer, and which I feel leave a lot to be desired, writing-wise, but which are included for completeness' sake.

EDIT: now just a general writing thread for stuff that's not an ongoing project.

Currently home to stories set in the Million-Mile-High City and Under a Brass Sky settings.
--
cannon operator

most people didn't even know the city had a top.

Ezenne Ceronn was not most people, having a job that required you to ride a space elevator and sit perched inside a vacuum-sealed glass bubble, finger on the trigger of a plasma cannon the size of a skyscraper, ensured that you were never most people.

Yet,

like most people, Ezenne's days were usually pretty dull. Twenty milennia in either direction, and no one had ever improved on the concept of a cold soda to get you through the workday.

Lazily, while taking a sip of that bubbling blackish brew, a silver orb flew into her field of vision and prompted a quick pull of the trigger. She welcomed the silver orbs by now, they broke up the monotony.

Plus, pay bonus.

--

the rain beat dark and hot as it dripped down from one layer of The
Tall City to another, sizzling upon contact with the infinimetal
surfaces below. Seddy had always thought it odd that even in this day
and age, they couldn't prevent incidental rain from sometimes storming
up unexpectedly. If Seddy had gone to school for weather control, she'd
know that they in fact could, but chose not to as studies had shown that
occasional rain was good for the citizenry's mental health. But Seddy
did not go to school for a weather and climate control degree, Seddy was
an archeologist to be. Seddy was fascinated by the Old City, and the
mud Earth that some said still rested beneath it.

Seddy turned
her face--round and unremarkable--skyward, letting the warm droplets
grace her skin. Wonder was the feeling of the hour, as it often was
whenever Seddy let herself get lost in the endless labyrinth of pipework
and other infrastructure that connected any two layers of the city.
There were the pipes themselves of course, made of the mysterious
substance that had long gained a status on par with the thunderbolt iron
of old myth. What exactly the pipes carried, and to where, was the
business of the City Engineers, a rare and proud profession, and the
only beings still living who had even a small semblance of knowledge of
the City's structure. If she were not an archeologist to be, Seddy
sometimes thought, she would have liked perhaps to be an engineer to be
instead. At least if she were an engineer she would know whether she
were looking toward or away from Old Earth right now. A contented grin
spread across Seddy's features, as she lazily marched home, soaked.

Lummy had a bright red left eye. Implants of the sort were ancient
technology, but one so vulgarly visible, a bulbous contraption of cold
metal and hard plastic, was more ancient still. Walking around with an
antique on your face is a bad idea in most parts of the universe, in the
Tall City, it's still not sensible, but you haven't taped your own
death warrant to your chest.

Still, such things were as far from
Lummy's mind as possible. Tomorrow her class would go on their first
expedition! She could hardly contain her excitement within her short,
stocky frame, it felt like simply too much, like if she lost focus for
even a second the joy within her would explode into a shower of lemon
yellow sparks. Lummy reasoned that such an occurance would probably
kill, or at least hurt, her, and resolved to keep herself as under
control as possible. On her way home, Lummy nearly tripped over a
computer worm.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-10-04 04:54:14

concert

Zeetdt shuffled nervously, hopping in place on one foot, then shifting to the other, then back. One minute til showtime. Her stringy black hair clung to her forehead, glued in place by sweat and frayed nerves, her mouth was palpably dry, and she could swear she tasted sawdust. Forty-five seconds til showtime.

The long metal neck of her instrument rest heavy in her arms, a rub of her index finger teasing out a low humming tone, a couple light taps conjured up a short staccato groove. She breathed out, twenty-eight seconds til showtime. She grit her teeth, I don't want to do this, there has to be a way out, she thought, before the idea dissolved into mental vapor. The curtain drew back, an audience of thirty-two people, fans, they had to be, sat rapt at attention in the seats below.

Fingers met strange iron, and the instrument exploded to life.

Anonus · 2014-10-13 02:57:40

what kind of name is "Zeetdt"

Salix Babylonika · 2014-10-13 04:50:39

it's not any kind of name, that's sort of the point.

these take place so far into the future that names aren't anything we'd recognize

COLORFUL MOHI · 2014-10-20 06:27:24

--

COLORFUL MOHI · 2014-10-20 06:51:20

c.....pace

the third world nexus had collapsed millennia ago they said, but here it was, still intact, still standing--in a manner of speaking--still bristling with rows and gleaming surfaces filled with hollow numerals, the digital eternity

Meydt-Meydt had heard about it all of course, who hadn't, it was the big rumor of the day, but the idea that it was here, real, still present, was astounding. A hand touched M-M's shoulder

"are you ready?"

the priest's kindly features held up a wide, gentle smile. M-M could not help but nod, nervous though she was

she knit her eyes closed, furiously battling the urge to open them-"3"-she took a deep breath-"2"-doublechecked her goggles, she'd been told that if they were too loose it wouldn't work-"1".

in a moment, all fear left her, and she dove into a neon metal-wave

COLORFUL MOHI · 2014-10-20 07:48:29

--

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-09 21:27:37

under a brass sky - a story from the UABS Universe, from The Saga of Prescia

a knightess leered,

the stars were a rare thing, falling only a few times per year from the great brass web of the unknown above, their metals were thousands of times stronger than iron. Starmetal could forge weapons as strong and as light as,

well,

the greatsword she now wielded, clad in armor made of the same. She'd not expected to run into another starcatcher here, she thought she'd been first on this one. She expected even less that this other would be one of....them

this other starcatcher wielded no weapon, a thin, frail metal staff was his only tool. Perhaps the only tool he'd need

negotiation first

Yes. Perhaps he could simply be convinced to leave. She drew her breath to speak, but before the first puff of syllable escaped her lips, she was cut off

"This star is mine. You will have to find another."

so much for negotiation

"This star has been claimed by The County of Croyelbroke, I'm afraid that will not do."

"Then we are at an impasse."

"Indeed."

the knightess fixed an eye on his staff. His clothes were simple--wracked things of worked leather--and he was clearly no soldier. Were it not for the staff she'd dispatch of him there and then, but....

a gentle flecking motion of his staff was all it took, a whip of flame ripped wildly outward, she dove to avoid it, and rolled under the druid. Those who could call upon The Old Power were not to be trifled with.

Yet he reacted in confusion

and it was the last thing he would ever feel.

A moment, and a quick slash upward were all it took. An amateur betrayed by powers he barely understood not working as he wished them to, and bested by a veteran.

Later,

as the ancient moon rose into the sky, a small star strapped to her back, Prescia of Croyelbroke, smiled grimly beneath her heavy faceplate. There would be starmetal; armor, weapons, machines, would be forged and life could continue, for a time.

Such is the burden of the Knights, in a land of twilight, above a screaming earth, and beneath a brass sky, between two worlds, neither knowing they exist.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-12 02:01:44

nine out from Croyelbroke - a story from the UABS Universe, from The Saga of Prescia

Eszedte exhaled, a wisp of smoke escaping her pursed lips as she reclined against the cool, dry surface of a rock in the nightscape of the Deadlands. Next to her reclined Prescia, Knight of Croyelbroke, still clad in full steel.

"Doesn't it get hot in that thing?"

"Always."

Perhaps not expecting an upfront answer, the witch half-snorted.

"So what's that thing anyway?"

Eszedte jabbed a finger at the wrought device of iron strapped to Prescia's hip. She'd not used it, or even taken it off, during the month the pair had been traveling together.

"Old technology. A weapon from a brutal age."

"An age as brutal as our own?" The witch twirled her pipe between her fingers, her voice heavy with tease.

"Some would say."

Eszedte let out a discontented grunt. It was the witch's opinion that Prescia had a way of stomping conversation flat, whether she meant to or not.

"No stars tonight, eh?" She ventured

"It doesn't appear so."

"Guess that means we get the night off." The witch put her hands behind her head, and gazed upward, watching the Moon enter the third triangle, clockwise from the Grand Web.

"Yes."

Precia gazed upward too.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-13 00:34:35

like an antenna to heaven - a story from the UABS Universe, from The Saga of Prescia

"So that's it, eh?"

The witch threw her head back to take in the full height of the tower, it seemed to only stop at the very top of the sky, even then, it looked as though someone had snapped the top off.

"Yes, The Broken Tower." The knightess could not help but look up in the same manner.

"They say it used to join the earth and the sky, ya know."

"That is what the legends say."

"They say it was created by an ancient race of gods who lived in an age of abundant life and vast oceans."

"They do."

"You believe any of that, Prescia?"

"I do."

"How come?"

"It is better."

"Better?" Eszedte cocked an eyebrow. It wasn't like Prescia to speak in riddles.

"I think it better to believe that once life was peaceful and full. Maybe if it was once, it can be again."

"O-oh." Eszedte blinked. "I think that's the most I've heard you say this entire trip."

"You asked."

"Suppose I did. Suppose I did...."

"Should we enter?"

"Hey now, we were just supposed to find out if it was still here. Count Yegnatz said nothin' about going inside."

Prescia lowered her gaze, and stared at Eszedte.

"Yer judgin' me behind that faceplate, aren't you?"

The witch was met with silence.

"Fine. Fine! But only for a little bit. We have no idea what's in there, and I've seen enough weird bug on this trip to last me a lifetime...."

With no words left between them, the two starcatchers entered.

Yarrun XIX · 2014-11-16 00:18:12

10/10, would read again

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-16 00:20:59

:/

Yarrun XIX · 2014-11-16 00:31:54

Right, right, some proper commentary.

Concerning the first brass sky piece, I like how you get inside the knightess's head. Very up close and personal without sacrificing the imageric properties of the third person view. The short, scattered paragraphs work very well with the flash fiction format. Gives the story a sense of time though the spaces between the paragraphs.

Second and third ones are okay. You don't get in the witch's head in the same way that you did the knightess'. Probably because you're trying to write the story with a more even weight than the first piece. Also, would have expected Eszedte to keep the conversation going after Pres's "Some would say". She seems like the kind who likes a conversation for the sake of it, and would probably retort with "Yes, some would say, but what about you?" or something of the like. Could add a bit in there that emphasizes that, say, any attempt to get past that "some would say" would fall flat so it's not worth even trying.

Third one is fine for what it is. Would rather not properly assess it just yet. It feels more like a preamble than a proper story, one that should be continued and finished.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-24 05:34:41

seems a long time ago - a story from the UABS Universe, from The Saga of Prescia

Somewhere, a thing stalked.

Ragged cloak draping rusted iron flesh, two pinpricks of crimson hate glaring out from beneath, hot breath more like an exhaust pipe. It gripped its last weapon that still functioned reliably, a sword, broad of blade, meant to be held in two hands by ordinary humans, but easy enough to monkey grip for something as strong as it was.

It lurked, the two intruders needed to be expelled, but the fact remained that the fortress' defenses had fallen over the aeons from 10,000 to 1,000 to 100, to 10, and finally to just one. The shorter one, she had already worked many of its brethren over with her strange technology. Trying to "speak" to them, so it overheard them say.

Every pore of its metal body screamed to follow Protocol. To clearly present itself to the intruders, to tell them to halt, to explain their trespass, and finally give them one chance to leave. Protocol was its blood, but Protocol could be disregarded in emergency situations in favor of defending the core tenant--defend the fortress, and the core tenant was its soul. It had been an emergency situation for a very, very long time.

They Have Split

The simple fact took a moment to register. Yes, the short one and the tall one, the speaker and the bodyguard, they'd split. Unwise. It was tempting to go after the smaller one first, but logic dictated that taking out the stronger foe was the priority.

Rusted-over hands squeaked and groaned as its grip on its sword tightened, moments later, it sprang.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-24 05:47:56

combat by champion - a story from the UABS Universe, from The Saga of Prescia

sword met sword, the bodyguard's blade was easily twice the size of its own, but it mattered not. The bodyguard stumbled, its armor was heavy, old, archaic, surely it would not be hard to exploit the chinks in such a crude battlesuit.

Protocol

Protocol

A voice at the back of its head, and in the most inconvinient of times. It began to scream

Protocol

PRO TO COL

Before it could stop itself, it planted its weapon in the ground, and stood at attention.

"You trespass in The Space Elevator SEDP Office 91991, show proper identification, else leave now or be forcibly removed."

The bodyguard, clearly startled it spoke, did not respond. The bodyguard continued to not respond for some time. Then, the bodyguard got back on its feet, and spoke in what sounded like a female voice, but....

of course

it had been long enough for that to happen, hadn't it?

Before the thing that was stalking about could answer its own question, it found itself met with the blade of a greatsword, and was freed from its duty.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-11-24 06:18:34

books you can't read

"It attacked you, you said?"

Eszedte cradled the hollow shell of the Guardian in her hands.

Prescia nodded, barely visible beneath her helmet.

"And it spoke?"

Prescia nodded again.

"What did it say?"

A pause

"I'm not sure, I couldn't understand it. Maybe it was broken?"

"Maybe."

Privately, Eszedte thought otherwise. It was hard to explain the concept of language to someone who'd only ever spoken one, but Eszedte was the more widely-traveled of the two.

"Did it sort of sound like...." Eszedte spoke the language of Edenstadt, her hometown.

"A little. But rougher."

If the knight was surprised that Eszedte could recreate its speech, she showed no sign of it.

"Strange"

"Its sword is made of starmetal"

"It is"

Prescia's hunger for starmetal would be the death of them one of these days, Eszedte was sure of it.

She ran her hands over the Guardian's iron cranium, its chest, its hands, searching for any remaining spark of life. Finally, she found something, a very small ember of what was once an inferno. She opened her eyes, and opened them again.

"I can hear it. I see....a man, with broad shoulders, wearing white clothing....his skin is so pale, I wonder if he's ill? He's....he's talking, but I can't...." Eszedte leaned in, knowing full well it wouldn't help. She clenched a fist. It was so similar, but so different. Every fourth or fifth word, maybe, sounded sort of like one she knew, but not enough like one she knew.

Eszedte let out a loud, heavy sigh, and felt a plated hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. It's just....it's frustrating."

Before long it had all blurred into fuzz. Whether from the Guardian's soul finally departing fully or from Prescia's distraction, or a combination of both, it was hard to say.

This kind of thing. This was why she didn't want to go into the Tower. It was a terrible reason, and she knew that full well, but...

"Perhaps you should stop."

Concern? That's a rarity.

"I already did...."

"Then perhaps we should rest."

"Yeah. That's....that's not a bad idea."

Eszedte leaned against a wall--metal, but strangely comforting--and passed out.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-20 11:45:10

June 3rd, 2307

My name is George William Clayton, I'm 57 years old, and I live in the town of Morton-in-Marsh in the European Union, or what's left of it anyway. I have one daughter by my late wife, and no other family in this world. I've never been much of one for diary keeping, especially not on something as old-fashioned as a paper journal, but these are dark times, and I figure it might not be a bad idea to record what I've got a strong hunch is gonna be my last thoughts. They launc[...] about two months ago. I mean, they already told us there wasn't room for everybody, that there was no way there could be room for 8 and a half billion people. And it was fair, right? Lotteries are the fairest thing there is. And if parents got on, their kids could get on too if they were little. Fair. Fair. I can't complain.

But. Well. I can say that, but it still burns me up. My little girl is all grown up for sure, and she doesn't need her daddy no more, but what I would've given to see her face one last time. She and that boy have a family of their own now, I would've given just about anything to see my grandson just once too when he's born. I watched it go up, that was about a month ago now, it was the last day we had power, it went out that night and it hasn't been back.

With the power out, well, I'm sure you can guess what kinda things have been roamin around ol' Marsh. I've never seen one up close before, and by God I wish I never had. Withered husks of people they are, burned black and twisted. Most have holes where their faces ought to be, and I neither know nor want to know why that's so. Official word the past few years has been that we cal[....] but I say screw that, they're zombies through and through, just like in those old films my father used to collect. Thankfully I'm armed. I don't know much about guns beyond how to use them, but it's a big thing with two barrels, David told me it was called a "shotgun" when he gave it to me, which seems silly to me, don't all these old weapons fire shot? I guess you can't argue with results.

But, well, what's motivated me to sit and write this is that I've run out, you see. There's no more shot left for the gun. I plan to go out and find more, but being outside is dangerous in these bleak times. Maybe someday, thousands of years hence, someone will find this. Maybe they'll be able to read it, maybe not. But if you can, whoever you are, I want you to know that this old Englishman found a strange kind of peace in his last days. And please, if you're one of them, for my sake, find out what happened to Sarah Clayton when she went to the stars. I'll never know what became of my baby girl, but at least you can.

Alright, enough sentimentality, I've got myself a carving knife and some bottled water. Time to try to make it in the world today. God help us.

Eszedte carefully closed the book, and set it down, removing her glasses.

"I'm sorry. Even though it's in remarkably good condition....It's just too old. I've seen this language before, but I don't know what it says. I can't even speak to it."

The old man, a round, bearded fellow with a large nose, sighed. "No no. It is alright. I suppose I was just hoping against hope. This small book, it is an heirloom of sorts. My father claims it has been passed down since the time of the ancients."

"With all due respect sir, that's fantastically unlikely."

"Yes" the old man picked at his beard in thought "I suppose it is. Still, you deserve some compensation for your trouble."

The old man plinked a few pale green coins down on the floor of the tent. "It's all I can spare"

"Thank you." Eszedte pocketed the money. "I am quite sorry."

"No, it is alright. I should be going now. I've my own places to be."

"Are you sure? It'd be awful of us to not offer for you to spend the night."

"No no, I travel on my own. I have no more coin to give you, and nothing else I can spare, and I don't want to impose. That's my family's motto." The old man chuckled at his own joke.

"Well, alright....I bid you a safe journey Mr....I'm sorry I don't think I got your name?"

"Djezh."

"Mr. Djezh."

With a final goodbye, the old man left their tent.

"We should get back to town soon." Prescia spoke for the first time since the man had shown up.

"Yeah. Don't worry, we'll get there tomorrow. For now-" Eszedte turned down the flame of the oil lamp, and snuffed it. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-20 12:41:01

Porte d'Epilogue

"You're what?!"

"I'm coming with you."

Eszedte could feel her face flushing, and felt she might just die of shock. Twofold shock, even. She'd never seen Prescia without her armor before, she was a well-built young woman, shaved bald, presumably to accommodate her helmet. These things made sense, but Eszedte had grown used to seeing Prescia's armor as part of her being, not an item of clothing.

"But...but why?!"

"They don't need me here anymore, and I want to see more of the world."

"But....egh." Eszedte leaned over the railing that overlooked The Shallow Sea below, and pulled her hat down over her eyes, hoping to hide her blushing. "It's just....you barely said a word to me our entire trip. You don't even know what I do!"

"You're a scholar and a magician are you not?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Do I need some grand reason? I already told you why I want to come. Of course if you don't want me along, well...." Prescia awkwardly scratched her head and glanced to the side.

She likes you, you damn moron.

"No no no no. It's not like that, I'm just...surprised. No, no, listen. If you want to come along, honestly, I....welcome the company."

She smiled. The stoical knight who Eszedte had been traveling with for the past two weeks smiled.

"I just need to get some things first. Books and supplies mostly. I'll meet you on the edge of town in an hour?"

"I'll see you there."

End Journey 1

eriophora zia · 2014-12-20 14:31:07

I enjoyed all of those quite a bit! The journal entry was especially well done, to my mind - I like the sense of melancholy and loss it creates when Eszedte is unable to read it, dismissing it entirely. "Eszedte cradled the hollow shell of the Guardian in her hands," was a specific line I liked, as well. After having had some of the Guardian's perspective, making it a sort of tragic figure, the wording there makes it feel naive and childlike (not to mention a slave to itself) - it's sad that it died with so little experience of the world and of people, in a way.

One very small copy-editing sort of thing I would change: "The stoical knight Eszedte had been traveling with for the past two weeks smiled." It's really easy to start reading that sentence in your head as "The stoical knight Eszedte," as in Eszedte being the stoical knight. I would add in a "who" there ("The stoical knight who") to make it very clear that Eszedte is not the knight referred to there. It becomes obvious with the rest of the sentence, but it changes how the words sound in my head and the way you'd say it out loud to begin it incorrectly. This is super, super nit-picky, but reading it threw me a little when I started to "say" it in my head one way only to find I'd "said" it wrong, if that makes sense. I also think "stoic" rather than "stoical" would work better in that sentence. That's the only sentence that really stuck out to me, though.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-20 14:35:19

I can change that fairly easily so it's no problem.

I do prefer the word "stoical" to "stoic" though. It's one of those cases where you have two words with literally the same meaning and choosing between them is sort of a matter of word-feel if you know what I mean.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-20 14:51:18

Thank you for your feedback though. It's hard to motivate myself to write, so every bit helps.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-20 14:57:24

Also I posted some minor setting details I couldn't work into the story in my personal thread, if you want to read them (I understand if you don't though).

eriophora zia · 2014-12-20 23:14:42

That's fair enough, with regards to stoical vs stoic. They really are fairly interchangeable, so which feels best to you as the writer is pretty important.

Also, with the setting details in the other thread: I thought the languages and not revealing them was actually implied fairly effectively. I could tell that there were several, and I also noted that you rather specifically didn't reveal them. So I'd say that worked.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-20 23:50:38

The reason I have yet to reveal them is that doing so would implicitly reveal another setting detail that I don't want to make clear yet.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-22 08:25:49

Interlude

"You now stand before His Royal Majesty, Kanchbern IV, of The Great House Mirzh, King of Belt-avh-Mirzh, and Lord of The Marvas."

The guardswoman, a lanky individual who nonetheless had an impressive voice, finally quieted down.

The knight and the witch bowed their heads respectfully before the figure that sat before them. A slightly overweight, middle-aged man with a long, flowing black beard, and a bald head adorned with a pale green circlet.

"You may speak, visitors. My servants tell me you are starcatchers...?"

"That we are, milord." The witch spoke first. "I am Eszedte of Ack er' Shooc, magician, translator, and treasurespeaker. This is my companion, Prescia of Croyelbroke, knight and navigator."

"Hmm...." The king stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You talk highly of yourselves, and true, you have come at a fortuitous time. Yet you are wanderers, and your king wonders to himself what kind of knight moves about so freely. Yet still, if I can trust one I can trust the other. Tell me, you who can pluck the strings of the universe, my crown, so ancient and revered, what is it made of?"

"Copper sir." The witch responded after a moment of silence. "Long tarnished, yet a true treasure for the valor of the men who've worn it upon their heads."

"Very good, and how did I come to acquire said valorous circlet?"

"You were nominated by your predecessor, and then confirmed by the council of court mages. Unanimously, of course."

The king Hmm'ed again, and stroked his beard yet more thoughtfully. "Yes, I will employ you."

"Your majesty's confidence is well-placed."

"Two nights ago, the venerable astronomer Drowie Galigh saw a star fall not far to the west. Nonetheless, certain powers, which I am sure you are familiar with, have been quite active in these past few weeks, and I cannot risk losing any men of mine to retrieve it. If you and your companion can secure for me the star, I will mint two-hundred and fifty coins from its irons to distribute to you as payment. They will be struck with my name and likeness, so that all along the Coast will recognize and accept their worth."

"Truly your majesty, your generosity is endless, but I must insist we not deprive your great kingdom of five hundred coins' worth of the heavenly iron."

"I recognize and appreciate your humility, but no! Belt-av-Mirzh is strong! I will mint instead three hundred coins for each of you in my name. I must insist you accept this bounty."

"If it is your majesty's wish, I graciously and humbly accept."

"Then our contract is signed. Now go! My servants will deliver to you a letter of commission at the inn you are residing in, then you may leave to retrieve the star. I bid you best of fortune!"

"We thank you, your majesty." With this, the witch and the knight left the City-King's palace, the Sky-Scraper by name, and returned to their inn to prepare for another journey.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-22 09:36:41

ancestor worship

"I have rarely felt so foolish."

"Oh?" Eszedte cocked an eyebrow.

"You and....that man, I don't really know..."

"Oh. Sorry, I keep forgetting that you don't speak The Noble's Tongue. I could teach it to you sometime if you want, as far as languages go, it's not that hard to learn."

"I had heard that people across the sea called themselves kings and queens freely, but to see it firsthand...."

changing the subject as always "Ah, Islanders are a bit sensitive about that, right? That's why Croyelbroke's a 'County'."

"It is....presumptive."

"You're a Royalist? I didn't know."

"My father was. I suppose I am too."

"I don't know much about the faith." Eszedte glanced over to see Prescia studying the ceiling, as was her usual habit. "I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I never picked a monarch to pray to, there isn't much to talk about."

Eszedte smiled "I'd say you're a Conquerer!"

Prescia turned to her. "Maybe."

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"So we've got our letter, eh?"

"We do."

"We should probably get some sleep. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

"It will."

dammit.... "Well....goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-23 04:44:07

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-23 04:58:13

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-26 06:21:47

a short story about the day after Christmas

"What's the matter, Saint Nick? Ya look exhausted."

Dorrie The Elf pulled her hat down over her eyes, enjoying some rest after three long months of ceaseless toy construction, staring up at the Cheer Palace's gold-and-red ceiling from its candycane-carpeted floor. "Not that I wouldn't understand."

"It's just been a long year, little Dorrie." The man known as Santa Claus was resting too, reclining in the chair some called the Christmas Throne. Traces of a mostly long-gone German accent drifted in as he continued. "Maybe not the worst year on record, but it's up there."

"Ya mean down there." Dorrie corrected, kicking her shoes as she did so, making the small sleighbells on them jingle. "Anyway, what are you worried about, that we didn't do enough?"

"I....I suppose." Santa sighed, prompting the little elf to roll over on her stomach, facing the old snow wizard.

"That's ridiculous, Kristoffer, and you know it." Dorrie popped up, producing a bow seemingly from nowhere. She promptly walked over to her superior, removed his trademark hat, and slapped the bow on his head. "Lighten up! How is anyone else supposed to have a good holiday if Santa Claus is depressed?"

"Hmf." Claus briefly struggled to suppress a grin, and then gave up. "Ho ho, I suppose you're right."

"Besides old man, we've got Christmas lights to take down."

"Old man?!" The Heir of St. Nicholas roared in mock-insult "Why, back in my day a child could get the belt for that! Times were tough back then! Let me at those Christmas lights! Not a one will survive!"

With that, two toymakers set out to un-decorate for the end of the holiday season, and to prepare, if we can believe, to bring cheer around, for a merry Christmas, next year.

Salix Babylonika · 2014-12-28 06:22:22

From The Journals of Drowie Galigh, Astrologer, Alchemist, Inventor, and Magician

23 Kanchbern 4, 12 B.A.M., The Ninth Age

The Brass Web has not moved for the past sixteen days. This lines up with the observations I've made periodically over the past several years. The Web does seem to stop rotating four times a year, for roughly 20 days each time, and at around the same times.

The practical longterm consequence of this is that The Web is slowly changing its locked position over the planet. I predict that in a century or so, the Fourth Void will end up where the Eleventh is now, The Eleventh where the Thirty-Third is, and so on. I will continue recording my observations, until such a time as I can either confirm or deny my theories.

Solluxa Callo fears my research borders on heresy. I will hear no such nonsense, if I can devise the nature of the heavens, surely that would please Iollux, not anger her? The Solluxa, with all respect due to someone of her station, is simply being paranoid.

Life in the observatory continues to be hectic. My creations have had no difficulty keeping The Withered and other such monstrosities at bay, but that does not make them any less disruptive. I have had to start enchanting myself to be able to sleep properly. I fear it is taking a toll on my mental state, last night I could hear them howling in the distance and even the sleeping potion I mixed for myself did not help.

One of the men from the village off to the west came to the tower today, meekly asking for some medicine to cure his sister of an ailment. I gave it to him and sent him on his way. He seemed scared. Do those people fear me? I cannot imagine why, I'm but a humble astrologer.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-01-09 11:06:01

from: The Book of 19 Orders, attributed to Callixta The Witch

If you wish to gain a command of fire, at least for a time, the steps are simply laid out, but must be carried out precisely as written, else one risks getting burnt by the very flames they seek to control.

Firstly, one must acquire coal. Bituminous is preferable, though any kind will work in a pinch. The coal must be lit, and the potential caster (ie. you) must remain within a few feet of the coal as it burns, enduring the smoke it will produce.

Secondly, one requires the corpse of a salamander that died of natural causes. The airs of magic know what truly caused a death, so duping the spell by starving a live salamander that you've captured will not work. Many spellmerchants own a few salamanders to sell the corpses of when they expire. Look around, finding one may be expensive, but should not be too difficult. The final ingredient one requires is a dry elixir. This elixir itself has a few steps in its preperation.

Here, one must acquire the ground petals of a yellow or orange marigold. This must be mixed with ashes from an active volcano, and stored in a clay pot for at least seven days.

Before burning your coal, consume the elixir. Washing it down with water and taking other precautions is preferable, but be sure to dispose of the cup and any other wet objects before you begin reciting the incantation, else your words will come out wet, and the spell will not work.

Take the clay pot that contained the elixir, and begin chanting the incantation*, taking care to cough as rarely as possible. If you are successful, the smoke of the coal will flash a brilliant red, and the coal will be entirely consumed. For roughly 3-4 days after casting this spell, the caster has the power to command flames at will, as well as produce them from the hand. Though do be wary this does not make you immune to the flames, fireproof gloves are a must for any would-be pyromancer.

Fire is a wild element, and in combat is best deployed by simply being chucked as one would any ball. Some pyromancers choose to use a leading stick to stoke their flames, creating great snakes and whirls of fire.

Recommended uses for this ritual:

many demons are scared of fire, as it has holy associations. If an exorcist cannot be found, flames may be used to drive away devils.
obviously, the old adage holds true, and if you must face a pyromancer in combat, being able to control flames yourself will allow you to steal theirs.
though it may seem mundane, many master cooks utilize small amounts of pyromancy in their art to finely control the flames used to cook.
similarly, it can be used to light and maintain campfires if lost.

compiler's note: Callixta was a multitalented witch of unknown birth, but had a profound command of all of the basic elements. In spite of this, she was, quite curiously, infamously incapable of combining them in any meaningful way. Regardless, any would-be detractors quickly found themselves burned to splinters, cut to the bone by strong winds, or unceremoniously drowned.

*this incantation has been excised from this book for safety reasons.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-01-09 11:11:24

from: The Book of 19 Orders, Attributed to Callixta The Witch

Order 1.

Making oneself into a "magical body" (ie. capable of using magic at all) is the first step in becoming a successful spellcaster of any kind. A Magical Body ritual need only be renewed rarely, at most once a year, many magicians choose to renew every two, three, or even five years.

First, one must conjure a name of power for themselves. Contrary to popular non-magician belief, there is no "magical language" this name must come from. Instead, the caster's own imparted symbolism is what gives the name its power. Thus, if one is an admirer of the strength of the wolf, one might call themselves Lupus, Lupin, or some variant thereof. Of course, the more complex and convoluted the symbolism is, the better, as one being able to discern the symbolism behind your name of power gives others a measure of control over you, and makes you a likely target for curses and hexes. For extra security, is generally recommended that one's name of power contain, at bare minimum, a given name and a surname, though a few incredibly powerful mages, like Dracelorex, choose to forego having more than one at all.

The most complex, and most difficult to describe part of a magical body ritual is the meditation, which will take up the bulk of your time here. One must reserve three days where you will eat and drink as little as possible (a simple twice daily meal of bread and water is recommended), and concentrate on a great mystery or question. Remember, magic is the opposite of science, the latter records observable facts about the physical world around us, the former pushes your inner reality outward, changing the facts to suit your whims and desires. Meditative aids, such as mirrors, candles, bells, rods, wands, incenses, tarot cards, and so forth, are not necessary, but can be useful.

As you progress in the ritual, you will begin to feel yourself "rising", in a sort of spiritual sense, and possibly literally as well (involuntary levitation is possibly the most common magical side effect in general). This is known as a magician's high, and it is very easy to let it distract you during your meditation, especially considering it often lasts throughout much of the second and third days, but it is important to not get wrapped up in the feeling, and instead continue focusing on your chosen mystery. Some magicians report "losing control of themselves" during this period, involuntarily humming, singing, chanting, hugging themselves, or even [*]. Regardless, as long as you remain mentally focused on your mystery, you will be fine.

As the third day draws to a close, you will begin to feel somewhat feint, and this will amplify until you feel extremely dizzy, and you may feel as though you're going to feint, or even die. You should not be concerned, these are a combination of the normal physical effects of the lean diet you will be consuming, and more dramatically, your inner magical airs finally awakening in full, and is a sign that the end of the process is near. You must maintain focus on your chosen mystery.

Eventually, you will feel a sort of spiritual snap, and the dizziness and feintness will fade away in an instant. Generally (though not always) you will be immediately able to tell that you are now a magical body. If you are unsure, try controlling the flame of a candle, this is among the simplest magical actions possible, and requires no preparation or ritual. The day after one's first magical body ritual is a once in a lifetime event, and many magicians report feeling as though they have awakened from a long dream, or other similar mystical turns of phrase**.

For beginner spells for first-time magicians, see the "Small Tricks" section later in this book, or, if you're feeling slightly more ambitious, "How to Attain Flight", which immediately follows this section. Many magicians choose mastery of flight as the first spell they learn, as the historical ritual for it is very simple and its components are easy to obtain. Furthermore, flight is simply fun, and has a number of practical applications as well.

*excised for potential obscenity. This is a library copy, recall.

**the author herself wrote a very in-depth account of her own first magical body ritual in the book "Becoming The Talker", which covers the subject of how to become a magician more in-depth

Salix Babylonika · 2015-02-06 17:39:28

Rabbit Tails I

Maxwolt was having a moment very few beings ever had.

To be sure, the salesman had said that this magic ring would increase anyone or anything's intelligence a thousand-fold, he remembered the old man cussing in frustration as it tumbled off of his table of wares, and he remembered the yelp of surprise and perhaps fear when he, Maxwolt, nibbled at the ring, bit it, and swallowed it whole. Lastly, he remembered bolting in the other direction as fast as any rabbit could.

He studied his paw. It had changed, it was like a human's paw, flexible and bendy with its fingers, but it was not quite the same as a human's paw either, still greyish and all covered with fur. He noticed a tree-branch on the ground. He bent over, grasped at it for a few seconds, and finally picked it up. He swung it. Once, twice, thrice, four times. He had seen humans do this too, although he was only now remembering it, and only vaguely, like the swirling illusions of some dream had long ago. Maxwolt decided that he quite liked this stick, and moved to put it in his-

Well now, wait a moment. Rabbits did not come with pockets, nor did they come with clothes, which had pockets.

Maxwolt had found himself with a problem.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-02-16 07:57:11

So, I have an announcement. No new story today, sorry.

The thing explored in the previous post, that bit about the rabbit?

I'm going to be trying to expand that into a series of short stories, or a novella, or something along those lines.

And get it published.

Now, that does mean that you will not be seeing the remainder of that story here, I'm sorry to say.

But I will keep the Heap posted on how things progress.

One-Winged Eagle · 2015-02-16 13:35:55

Neat.

Yarrun XIX · 2015-02-16 14:01:35

More rabbits should have pockets, is what I'm getting out of this

Salix Babylonika · 2015-02-27 08:56:51

Salix Babylonika · 2015-02-28 09:48:35

Yarrun XIX · 2015-02-28 15:07:34

stained shirt orc was a bit too stock. elsewise, well done.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-02-28 19:36:15

You're not wrong.

But bars will be bars.

Are people able to envision the polyphs correctly? That's important.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-09 05:28:29

A Train on an Iron Ocean

Thel brushed aside the curtain, and looked out the window. The glass of her left eye expanded ever so slightly as she took in the view, the hot white sunlight reflecting off an ocean that expanded into eternity in all directions.

The train ran smoothly, barely touching the air-metal rails she ran on. Thel was startled, as she heard a solid knock on the door of the train car. "Come in", she called.

The faceless waitress silently offered Thel a plate inhabited by squirming ribbons of various neon colors. Thel shook her head, stating "no thank you", as politely as she could. The waitress left, showing no reaction.

The Great Capitol was still several hundred miles and many hours away, Thel wondered how people lived on a world with so little going on. Just one city and a few smaller outlying towns, wasn't it? The rest was ports. She had heard fleshed ones still lived in The Capitol, and wondered if she would be able to see one. The masters were rare in the Worlds Away, and Thel had never actually met one in person.

As she resumed gazing out to sea, she saw a strange animal leap out of the water. A lithe, long creature with a maw filled with jagged teeth. Quite a sight, she thought, and quite a scary one. How did people live knowing such things were beneath the waves?

Thel turned her attention to herself, running her hands over each other and checking her ceramic for dings or other unsightly marks. If she did meet a master, it would be quite rude to appear dirty. Thankfully her shade was flowing at normal levels. Excess shading was quite embarrassing indeed.

Spotting no marks on her person, and seeing nothing more but endless water outside, Thel silently wished she had thought to bring some form of entertainment. A single scroll would've provided her with enough reading material for the entire ride.

Another knock at the door came, Thel again called the person outside in.

It was the mother. Thel bowed her head, trying not to stare at the tangle of pale cords that hung from her head, and avoiding making contact with her faceplate.

"Are you doing well, student?"

"Yes, mother."

"That is good to hear."

"Thank you, mother."

The mother approached, briefly reaching out and entangling one of Thel's cords with her own, before quickly withdrawing. Thel tried not to squirm.

"I see." She stated plainly.

"Thank you, mother." Thel repeated, trying not to change her tone in any discernable way.

The mother gave Thel a look, of approval or scorn she could not tell, and left as soon as she had come.

Thel hoped this journey would soon be over.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-10 11:45:06

A City of Some Fame

Some time later, the train came to its station, and Thel, and the other students, lined up in the lobby to be scanned, so they might enter the city.

The lobby was a cramped building, its white walls dusted over in gray by age. Thel stood in one line of several, at the end of each was a judge, a great floating individual with a singular green eye, which swept with a crippling gaze over the crowd. The judge at the end of her line had the biggest cord-mane that Thel had ever seen. It was grotesque, honestly; the overgrown, knotty, slippery, ceramic, segmented appendages worming every which way as the judge looked over the crowd. Each citizen was doing....something with the judge, and was then either permitted to enter, or detained. Thel did not know where the detained went, and had no intention to find out.

Finally, Thel herself stood eye to eye with the judge in charge of her line. For a moment, a long moment, it simply looked down at her, its green gaze seeming to less meet her own and more be trying to bore a hole into her forehead.

Then, its cords grabbed a solid hold of hers, and pulled. Tangling together with her own far tighter than anyone else's ever had. It hurt. Sure, the violent pulling on her head was painful, but that wasn't what the judge was doing. She could feel it looking, looking through her mind, picking through her brain, trying to find a reason--any reason--to keep her out of the city. It dug through her memories at lightning speed, working backwards; starting with the train just minutes before, going back to her induction into her class, her first day at home, her first words, meeting her parents, her plating. Thel tried to mutter "stop", but could not coax her mouth to produce any words.

Then, as soon as it had began, the entire process simply stopped. The judge untangled its cords from Thel's, its eye free of any obvious malice, barked a robotic "Clear", and gestured for her to move on. She briefly stumbled, but walking past the judge mostly proved painless. She began to wonder if the pain had just been some kind of bizarre hallucination.

The mother. The mother was here. Thel bowed her head.

"This is the last time we will see each other, dear plateling."

"It is, mother."

"I will miss you, Thel."

Thel bit her lip, trying not to smile, or worse, shade. "Th...thank you, mother."

The mother bowed back to Thel, for the first, and last time.

"Go."

"Yes, mother."

Thel walked past the mother, into The Capitol, her back to the setting sun as it fell over the station, bathing the gray structure in red.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-11 07:34:37

Now available in FictionPress form.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-11 10:24:43

A Train thru The Old Great Jungle

Dei let her stringy black hair fall over her eyes once more, now too apathetic to do much of anything about it. She'd try brushing it aside if she didn't know the slick, oily strands would just fall back into place moments later. She probed her fangs with her tongue, letting her teeth slip into the hole in it. This was boring, it was hot, and--since by Azit it was raining again--wet.

A strange hooting came from overhead, causing Dei to scan the treetops. She saw nothing but broad wet leaves and the dark gray clouds that were barely visible through them, but it was unquestionably dim even by the standards of her large-eyed people. She drew her dagger from its sheath with a dull shunk, and snapped her fingers, causing a small flame to flicker to life in her hand.

Off in the distance, a horn sounded. Finally, she thought.

The train station barely was. A single bench made of worm-eaten red wood, and some various gadgetry on the tracks themselves that Dei couldn't identify were all that even marked it as such. Dei had in fact briefly wondered if she was even in the right place, a small footpath had been the only guide here for several days' worth of walking. Her fears however, were relieved as an old crimson steam engine pulled up to the station, toting just two passenger cars behind it.

A conductor leaned out the window of the engine car. He was a short, fat man with greenish skin.

"All aboard?"

"One to Mirkersgart, please."

"Don't tell it to me, kid. Give your ticket to Bethel in the car. Now get in!" A ramp fell out of the first passenger car, landing with a thud.

Dei did as she was told, briefly rummaging through her pockets to find the small orange piece of paper she was to present to the ticketman, and then did so.

Most of the train was empty, but there were only a handful of bench-style seats. All of which already had at least one person sitting on them. Social interaction, the death of the very soul itself.

Tentatively, she approached a slightly overweight noblewoman. Another greenskin, just like the conductor.

"Excuse me, ma'm" she began "would you mind if I sat here?"

"Hmm? Oh, certainly not! Go right ahead dear child, you do appear soaked."

"Thank you." Dei sat down as well as she could, hanging just slightly off the edge of the seat.

"By Norgim, child, what are you doing out here? In the middle of The Jungle, during the rainy season, at dusk?"

"I need to get to Mirkersgart."

"Mirkersgart?" the noblewoman intoned, drawing out the a in "gart" "What could a young thing like you ever need in a place like that?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Looking for..." the noblewoman placed her hand on top of Dei's "Honey, whoever he is, if he's in Mirkersgart, you don't want to find him."

"It's not a boy!" Dei drew her hand back, and tried and failed not to blush at the suggestion that it was. "I'm looking for my mom."

"Your mother? Oh...honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

Dei looked away, and crossed her arms.

"Waiter!" The noblewoman called out to a tall man holding a tray with a number of small boxes on it. "Over here, waiter!"

"I don't want-"

"Hush, dear. Food can help solve a lot of problems."

The waiter made his way over, silently presenting his tray. The noblewoman plucked a box off of it. "Put it on my tab, Agerwald." Agerwald nodded, and walked away.

"Here, dear."

Dei silently, reluctantly, popped open the box. It contained a tangle of dried out, colorful ribbons, and a pair of chopsticks. "Thank you." She muttered, trying to sound grateful. She turned over, only to see that the noblewoman had, somehow, in the thirty or so seconds since buying her food, nodded off.

Dei sighed, and began to eat in silence.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-12 07:05:48

bump?

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-17 00:09:01

A City of Some Infamy

Dei stepped off the train some hours later. She turned her head skyward and sighed with resignation as she felt the heavy beating of the rain upon her, the weather had only gotten worse since she'd departed.

Mirkersgart rose above the rainforest. It would've been a beacon if there was any hope to be found there. The city's dull golden towers still shone, in a way, even centuries after their bygone heydays.

Some time later, Dei made her way to a small shop. Some characters on a sign hung above the door would tell her it was a fortune teller, if Dei had ever been taught to read. Still, symbols are universal, and the image of a sun, that strange flaming orb of legend that they say hangs above the overworld, told her what the sign could not. She entered.

"Hello?" she ventured. "Is anyone here?"

The shop was dark, and a thick smog of incense hung over every inch of it, a few dim candles were lit on a small table, but it was hard, even for Dei, to make out much of anything.

"Come in." The voice spoke with a rumbling, elemental croak. The owner made themselves known by entering the room, carrying a lit lantern. "This will help you see." The fortune teller stood several heads taller than Dei. A four-armed creature, with the head of a lizard, and a horn adorning its nose stood before her, their eyes scanning her over as they reached for something on a nearby shelf.

"Dei is your name." They began. "You are a wompir, a so-called child of the night. A cursed one, much like us." They pulled a small crystal orb from the shelf, and clutched it in one hand. Then pulling a long pipe out with another hand, and breathing a small puff of flame into it, setting it alight. "You have questions."

"Yes." Dei opened her mouth, fully intent on explaining why she had come, but found herself less than able to produce the words necessary to do so. "I....you see. Um."

The fortune teller sat down at the table, placing the crystal ball in the center. "Sit."

Dei did as she was told.

"Why are you here, child?"

"I'm...looking for someone."

"Who?"

"My mother."

"What of your father?"

"He's....gone."

"To the Sunfields."

"I don't believe in those."

"Ah. An atheist." The fortune teller puffed their pipe. "But if you don't believe in them, you don't believe in me. Why then, are you here?"

"I just...." Dei fidgeted in her seat. "Couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Mom always visited the fortune tellers when she was in town here, and....I just thought you might know something."

"I see." The fortune teller scratched his scaly chin. "What is your mother's name?"

"Adi."

"Ohohoho. Adi. There is a name known widely in this city. Adi The Eyeless." The fortune teller closed his eyes for a moment and puffed on his pipe again. "She is not in the city. She is not in the Darklands at all."

"Not in the Darklands?" Dei crossed her arms, frustrated. "What are you playing at? That doesn't make any sense!"

"I only know what I am told." The fortune teller crossed his own arms. The lower pair, at least. "The myth of the all-knowing fortune teller is just that. I do know this much, though. There is a reason you came to my shop, today." They stroked their chin for a moment in contemplation, and then stood up. "I have something for you, should you want it. Two things, actually."

"What are they?" Dei tried not to sound annoyed, though a hint of irritation slipped through anyway.

The fortune teller grabbed a sheathed knife off the shelf, and placed it on the table. "I think you will find this will serve you better than the rusty thing you have now." They drew the dagger, revealing its blade was tinged with a hint of lavender in color, and had a pair of symbols etched into the blade. "These are protective wards. It will keep the dagger sharp, and give you luck."

"Th...thank you?" Dei was bewildered, but had long ago learned to not question generosity.

"Secondly." The fortune teller tossed Dei a small bag of coins. "You will find that in some respects, bartenders know more than magicians. But, unlike us, they will not talk for free."

"Free?"

"Your presence here is payment enough. Now get along. Others need my council as much as you do."

Dei exited the fortune teller's shop with a new dagger, and a hundred or so coins richer. The crystal moon rose over the horizon, casting Mirkersgart in a dim, blue shadow.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-19 02:01:36

bump?

Yarrun XIX · 2015-03-19 02:44:43

I like this four-armed lizard lady

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-19 02:50:16

I referred to them as "they" because they do not have a gender as we'd understand it.

Physical sex, yes, but that's none of our collective business.

Salix Babylonika · 2015-03-19 02:50:40

I am glad they made a good impression though

remind me to post these last two to fictionpress tomororw

for now good ngitgh

Yarrun XIX · 2015-03-19 02:52:03

Magic Jane said:
I referred to them as "they" because they do not have a gender as we'd understand it.

Physical sex, yes, but that's none of our collective business.

You mostly refer to them as "him", actually, but I get you. My mistake.

tales from the wind temple in appalachia: a writing thread

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