As promised. I wrote this at aobut 10:00 last night, so it's a bit delayed. Rayhan still won't talk to me, so we'll have to save his story for later. *sigh*
I was there when they brought him in, unconscious, mumbling incoherently, a long streak across the back of his Zangar getup torn and the flesh beneath red from laserburn and orange Restraints still flickering around his wrists and ankles. I don't know why I bother saying I was there, because where else would I be? Where else would a dangerous criminal be confined except the the galaxy's finest Coreship?
Yeah. Right.
I watched him, having nothing better to do, for the better part of an hour. The Restraints activated by the laser eventually faded. He wasn't going anywhere. I began pacing the room again. I hadn't done it in over a month, but restlessness had set in. I hadn't had a cellmate for over a year. I wanted some news.
In the middle of the fourth circuit of my pointless prowl around the mercilessly glowing walls, the youngster stirred and moaned. I squatted next to him, tracing a finger over the long streak of laserburn. He started upright, groaned, and sank back onto the metal floor. I rocked back on my heels and studied him again. Long, untidy brown hair, unusually aquiline features, startlingly blue eyes. I hadn't seen eyes like that since ... since ...
He peeked out through a thicket of brown bangs and scooted back against the wall, teeth clenched. "I know you. I know you, you can't be here. Go away. You're all over the Weave. Convicted for -- "
"Yes, well, we all know about that." I peered around his side, where the laserburn carried over to his left leg. "You should let me treat that."
"With your ... your witchcraft?" His voice was high and frantic, signifying near panic. "No. Get away from me. This isn't happening."
I moved back to my corner of the cell and leaned my head against the wall. A long silence ensued.
"You gotta name, kid?" I asked finally.
"Why should I tell you?"
"Far's I can tell, you're in the same boat as me. We're equals now." I pretended to examine my cracked fingernails. "You might as well spill."
He gulped. A lock of his bangs fell back over one eye. "A-Arely."
Huh. What parent names their cub something like that? I'd hate going through life with a name that meant Destiny. 'Course, Starfield wasn't much better.
"So," I drawled, licking my lips. "Whatcha in for?"
He appeared to be sorting through his memories. Another silence, this one stretching for at least five minutes, then; "Something they call love."
"Ha! Love." I grinned. He shrank farther into his corner. I ignored that. "So she dumped you and you went and did something stupid."
"N-no."
"Then what?"
"None of your business." He sniffed. "Why did they put me in here with you, anyway?"
"For fun. They like a fight every now and then. You want outta here?"
He didn't appear taken aback at the sudden question, as I'd expected, but a light of hope glinted in his colorful eyes. "I guess."
"You'll have to trust me."
He looked down. "I don't know how. I-I can't trust anyone, anymore."
"You'll have to learn." I narrowed my eyes, thoughts racing through my head like green Fighter lasers. "'Cause I'm your only way out."
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 15, 2010
Science Fiction for Friday
This is my first attempt at sci-fi. Tell me what you think!
I wiped my sweaty fingers on the slick fabric of my form-fitting Zangar outfit and positioned them over the smooth virtual keyboard.
“Commence infiltration,” muttered Karelei, behind me.
“Shush,” I ordered, reaching up to adjust my eyeband. “Here we go.”
I’m sure that without the technological sweat-wicking geniuses of the Zangar company, I would have been drenched. As it was I now wished I’d accepted the gloves offered me at the start of this endeavor. You don’t get sweat on the world’s top machine. No going back for them now, though.
Choking back my nervousness, I began pecking at the numbered keys, maneuvering quickly through the preliminary levels. The colors of each individual room flashed by, faded into a blur. White, black, green, orange–
Red.
Confirmation code required.
“Sayller?” I choked.
A combination of random numbers blinked into the corner of my screen. Except not. That was what I expected it to be. Instead it spelled a single word. Relax.
“Sayller!!”
“Chill. Kid, you have no sense of humor.”
The word relax faded back into the luminescent silver background. My favorite color. It was supposed to be calming.
Password: S45228G.
I keyed it in, double- and triple- checking each character. “You’re sure this is the right one?”
I felt the pulse of electric color and sound as Sayller’s solid frame touched the virtual wall. He had a bad habit of leaning on Detector substances. “Positive.”
“It better be, or we’re fried.”
“Like an egg,” Karelei joked feebly. “Sunnyside up.”
“Quit with the ancient history, sugar,” Sayller chuckled.
Affirmative, said the red room, and faded. Please wait.
I slipped off the eyeband and smiled weakly. Karelei turned to face me, clutching folds of her outfit. With a sigh, she let it go. It snapped back into its original position. “Thank you, Arely.”
“No prob.”
She pulled off her gold eyeband and blinked. Once again I was struck by the color of her eyes. My family couldn’t afford to use the bands on a regular basis, so none of us had the characteristic cream-colored pupil of the Weavers. Everyone said it had no effect on eyesight. Well, no known effect, anyhow. Most were too immersed in their virtual worlds to care. Some never even took it off.
Sayller included.
“Hang on,” he proclaimed, grinning. “Got an update.” He walked over to the far Receptor wall and began moving various invisible objects across it with his fingers. I knew that to him, it was the colorful, multi-layered surface of the Weave. To me, it was just empty metal.
I glanced back at the screen. “You’d think they would’ve had tighter security on that.”
Karelei rubbed a hand over her face. “They may. Wait till you see the next level.”
“Think we’ll get her out?”
“We have to try.”
Sayller keyed in the code for Illusion, and a shimmering film of color appeared on the wall. He’d been wanting a better quality machine for years, he said, but this one looked fine to me. ‘Course, I wasn’t exactly educated in the constant updates of the big-wigs. They’d only brought me along for my innate talent with the Equilibrium Complex.
The colors resolved themselves into the face of Tiral, one of our few tech experts. She was frowning. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Look, it was my idea to bring Arely along,” Sayller sighed. “And he got us in, didn’t he?”
“Not all the way. You have to be more careful. You have to –"
The please wait screen flooded from black to red and emitted a low, eerie warble of warning. It tore at the fabric of my mind, ripped my Equilibrium into a drillion pieces. I whirled to face it, my fingers digging into the metal of my eyeband. An orange laser streaked across my back. I crumpled forward onto the cold white floor. The last thing I heard was Karelei screaming my name.
I wiped my sweaty fingers on the slick fabric of my form-fitting Zangar outfit and positioned them over the smooth virtual keyboard.
“Commence infiltration,” muttered Karelei, behind me.
“Shush,” I ordered, reaching up to adjust my eyeband. “Here we go.”
I’m sure that without the technological sweat-wicking geniuses of the Zangar company, I would have been drenched. As it was I now wished I’d accepted the gloves offered me at the start of this endeavor. You don’t get sweat on the world’s top machine. No going back for them now, though.
Choking back my nervousness, I began pecking at the numbered keys, maneuvering quickly through the preliminary levels. The colors of each individual room flashed by, faded into a blur. White, black, green, orange–
Red.
Confirmation code required.
“Sayller?” I choked.
A combination of random numbers blinked into the corner of my screen. Except not. That was what I expected it to be. Instead it spelled a single word. Relax.
“Sayller!!”
“Chill. Kid, you have no sense of humor.”
The word relax faded back into the luminescent silver background. My favorite color. It was supposed to be calming.
Password: S45228G.
I keyed it in, double- and triple- checking each character. “You’re sure this is the right one?”
I felt the pulse of electric color and sound as Sayller’s solid frame touched the virtual wall. He had a bad habit of leaning on Detector substances. “Positive.”
“It better be, or we’re fried.”
“Like an egg,” Karelei joked feebly. “Sunnyside up.”
“Quit with the ancient history, sugar,” Sayller chuckled.
Affirmative, said the red room, and faded. Please wait.
I slipped off the eyeband and smiled weakly. Karelei turned to face me, clutching folds of her outfit. With a sigh, she let it go. It snapped back into its original position. “Thank you, Arely.”
“No prob.”
She pulled off her gold eyeband and blinked. Once again I was struck by the color of her eyes. My family couldn’t afford to use the bands on a regular basis, so none of us had the characteristic cream-colored pupil of the Weavers. Everyone said it had no effect on eyesight. Well, no known effect, anyhow. Most were too immersed in their virtual worlds to care. Some never even took it off.
Sayller included.
“Hang on,” he proclaimed, grinning. “Got an update.” He walked over to the far Receptor wall and began moving various invisible objects across it with his fingers. I knew that to him, it was the colorful, multi-layered surface of the Weave. To me, it was just empty metal.
I glanced back at the screen. “You’d think they would’ve had tighter security on that.”
Karelei rubbed a hand over her face. “They may. Wait till you see the next level.”
“Think we’ll get her out?”
“We have to try.”
Sayller keyed in the code for Illusion, and a shimmering film of color appeared on the wall. He’d been wanting a better quality machine for years, he said, but this one looked fine to me. ‘Course, I wasn’t exactly educated in the constant updates of the big-wigs. They’d only brought me along for my innate talent with the Equilibrium Complex.
The colors resolved themselves into the face of Tiral, one of our few tech experts. She was frowning. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Look, it was my idea to bring Arely along,” Sayller sighed. “And he got us in, didn’t he?”
“Not all the way. You have to be more careful. You have to –"
The please wait screen flooded from black to red and emitted a low, eerie warble of warning. It tore at the fabric of my mind, ripped my Equilibrium into a drillion pieces. I whirled to face it, my fingers digging into the metal of my eyeband. An orange laser streaked across my back. I crumpled forward onto the cold white floor. The last thing I heard was Karelei screaming my name.
Oct 12, 2010
Character Discussion No. 2
Chayten: Where is everyone else?
Me: I decided to bring just you in for now, since you're giving me such a hard time. Have at it.
Chayten: Have at what? *leans against a tree, scowling most immaturely*
Me: You know what. And no trees. This is an interrogation.
*trees vanish, and we are in a cold, bare metal room with buzzing fluorescent lights and a single metal chair*
Me: That's more like it.
Chayten: *suddenly sitting in and handcuffed to the chair* That is not fair. *flinches at the lights* Those are too bright.
Me: Glad we agree on something. For those of you who don't know, Chayten is a Tuliran. This explains his sensitivity to the bright lights. *leans comfortably against the wall and smiles* So...what do you want to talk about?
Chayten: *stops jerking on the handcuffs long enough to say* I thought you were in charge of directing this conversation.
Me: Odd. You thought wrong.
Chayten: Shut up. *tugs on the handcuffs again*
Me: As long as you're going to insult me, those aren't going to give. *sigh* Alright. Tell me about your childhood.
*Chayten looks up, golden eyes wide with alarm*
Me: Alright, we don't have to talk about that. How about your stint as a Rider for Klista?
Chayten: You are picking the most painful topics on purpose.
Me: Maybe because you don't have anything that isn't painful to talk about.
Chayten: And whose fault is that?
*silence*
Me: What do you want to talk about?
Chayten: Nothing. Let me go back to the battle.
Me: You deserted!
Chayten: No I did not!
Me: Then what did you do?
Chayten: I... *looks down* I was angry at Arionwyn, and ...
Me: *gently* You can tell me.
Chayten: Afraid. When Lee interfered, I saw her for who she really was. And I knew... I knew that they would not forgive me for what I did, if they ever found out who she was. So I ran.
Me: I see.
Chayten: Can I go now?
Me: No. But we can delay the rest of this for later. This post has gotten far too long.
Chayten: *barely keeping back a whine* Does that mean you will keep me here until you work up enough courage to post again?
Me: I'll let you back into the main dungeon. Be prepared for *heh heh heh* development.
Chayten: Does that mean more fractalling? *cringe*
Me: *grin* Maybe.
Me: I decided to bring just you in for now, since you're giving me such a hard time. Have at it.
Chayten: Have at what? *leans against a tree, scowling most immaturely*
Me: You know what. And no trees. This is an interrogation.
*trees vanish, and we are in a cold, bare metal room with buzzing fluorescent lights and a single metal chair*
Me: That's more like it.
Chayten: *suddenly sitting in and handcuffed to the chair* That is not fair. *flinches at the lights* Those are too bright.
Me: Glad we agree on something. For those of you who don't know, Chayten is a Tuliran. This explains his sensitivity to the bright lights. *leans comfortably against the wall and smiles* So...what do you want to talk about?
Chayten: *stops jerking on the handcuffs long enough to say* I thought you were in charge of directing this conversation.
Me: Odd. You thought wrong.
Chayten: Shut up. *tugs on the handcuffs again*
Me: As long as you're going to insult me, those aren't going to give. *sigh* Alright. Tell me about your childhood.
*Chayten looks up, golden eyes wide with alarm*
Me: Alright, we don't have to talk about that. How about your stint as a Rider for Klista?
Chayten: You are picking the most painful topics on purpose.
Me: Maybe because you don't have anything that isn't painful to talk about.
Chayten: And whose fault is that?
*silence*
Me: What do you want to talk about?
Chayten: Nothing. Let me go back to the battle.
Me: You deserted!
Chayten: No I did not!
Me: Then what did you do?
Chayten: I... *looks down* I was angry at Arionwyn, and ...
Me: *gently* You can tell me.
Chayten: Afraid. When Lee interfered, I saw her for who she really was. And I knew... I knew that they would not forgive me for what I did, if they ever found out who she was. So I ran.
Me: I see.
Chayten: Can I go now?
Me: No. But we can delay the rest of this for later. This post has gotten far too long.
Chayten: *barely keeping back a whine* Does that mean you will keep me here until you work up enough courage to post again?
Me: I'll let you back into the main dungeon. Be prepared for *heh heh heh* development.
Chayten: Does that mean more fractalling? *cringe*
Me: *grin* Maybe.
Oct 7, 2010
Race No. 3 --- Tulirans
Here is some basic information about my race No. 3: Tulirans.
Tulirans are humanoid with a long, cat-like tail.
The Tulirans' eyes are gold and deep-set with a round pupil.
Their hair is coarse and thick with little shine, kept in waist-length braids or long ponytails. On the males, facial hair is mild, but most prefer to stay clean-shaven. The color is deep black or brown. When interbred with other races, a recessive gene often shows and they are born with silky, shiny gold hair. Among the pure-blooded Tulirans this is extremely rare.
Their noses are sharp and prominent.
Their skin is a deep brown (think African-American) to almost black. it is not thick, heals easily but also scars easily.
Their emotions can almost never be read on their faces. The forehead is high and broad, the cheekbones very prominent, the jawline strong and cleanly cut. This gives them a sharp-edged appearance.
Their build is slightly delicate, height averages from 6' 1" to 6' 8". The limbs are long but strong and slightly muscled. Their fingers are long and slender. Occasionally, among the less pure of their race, the skin under their fingernails, on their palms, and the soles of their feet will be pale.
Sense of sight rated at 4 1/2 (excellent), touch at 4 (very good), hearing at 3 (moderate), taste at 2 (poor), and smell at 2 1/2 (moderate). A weakness is sudden flashes of bright light. This can temporarily or permanently blind them.
Their movement is moderately quick, extremely graceful with very good agility, which enables them to climb even the most difficult of trees. Forest is their natural habitat. Their strength is moderate and their stamina poor. They can work magic and sustain it with moderate ease.
Their talent of gift from God is manipulation of wood, living or dead. Even the young ones can meld a piece of bark or a stick into a marvelous sculpture. The oldest and most skilled among them can make the tree spirits appear as visible beings and bend them to their will.
They hate wide, open spaces.
Their faith is strong but often twisted to reflect and serve their own ideals.
They are not known for their loyalty.
Their language is similar in sound and structure to French. They have fairly deep but sometimes nasal voices. If they learn English (called Lindian in my world) they will have trouble with contractions and many will drop them altogether. They usually speak fairly fast and loud enough for all to hear.
They have an affinity for fire and it is usually hard to enchant them unless they have been tainted beforehand.
Their leaders are chosen by royal blood or by a series of trials.
They prefer nocturnal hours.
Overall, they are a sharp, hard people. Their laws are merciless, and they often deal with others in the same manner.
Tulirans are humanoid with a long, cat-like tail.
The Tulirans' eyes are gold and deep-set with a round pupil.
Their hair is coarse and thick with little shine, kept in waist-length braids or long ponytails. On the males, facial hair is mild, but most prefer to stay clean-shaven. The color is deep black or brown. When interbred with other races, a recessive gene often shows and they are born with silky, shiny gold hair. Among the pure-blooded Tulirans this is extremely rare.
Their noses are sharp and prominent.
Their skin is a deep brown (think African-American) to almost black. it is not thick, heals easily but also scars easily.
Their emotions can almost never be read on their faces. The forehead is high and broad, the cheekbones very prominent, the jawline strong and cleanly cut. This gives them a sharp-edged appearance.
Their build is slightly delicate, height averages from 6' 1" to 6' 8". The limbs are long but strong and slightly muscled. Their fingers are long and slender. Occasionally, among the less pure of their race, the skin under their fingernails, on their palms, and the soles of their feet will be pale.
Sense of sight rated at 4 1/2 (excellent), touch at 4 (very good), hearing at 3 (moderate), taste at 2 (poor), and smell at 2 1/2 (moderate). A weakness is sudden flashes of bright light. This can temporarily or permanently blind them.
Their movement is moderately quick, extremely graceful with very good agility, which enables them to climb even the most difficult of trees. Forest is their natural habitat. Their strength is moderate and their stamina poor. They can work magic and sustain it with moderate ease.
Their talent of gift from God is manipulation of wood, living or dead. Even the young ones can meld a piece of bark or a stick into a marvelous sculpture. The oldest and most skilled among them can make the tree spirits appear as visible beings and bend them to their will.
They hate wide, open spaces.
Their faith is strong but often twisted to reflect and serve their own ideals.
They are not known for their loyalty.
Their language is similar in sound and structure to French. They have fairly deep but sometimes nasal voices. If they learn English (called Lindian in my world) they will have trouble with contractions and many will drop them altogether. They usually speak fairly fast and loud enough for all to hear.
They have an affinity for fire and it is usually hard to enchant them unless they have been tainted beforehand.
Their leaders are chosen by royal blood or by a series of trials.
They prefer nocturnal hours.
Overall, they are a sharp, hard people. Their laws are merciless, and they often deal with others in the same manner.
Oct 4, 2010
Music for Monday -- Epic
So, I'm starting a new feature: Music for Monday! Today, as with many days, I felt like some Epic.
I'm beginning with the song that started it all.
Those of you who know me are very familiar with the fact that I listen to Epic music extensively. For those of you who haven't been introduced to the genre, it's the type of music you hear in movie trailers and the like.
This was the first really Epic song that caught my attention:
Composer/Artist: Two Steps From Hell
Album: Legend
Impressions: Rollicking, rolling waves; throbbing heartbeat; marching army; grim cadence of a requiem; menacing strokes of an enemy's blade; dances of elusive forest creatures, sneaking through the underbrush; wingstrokes of a dragon; swaying of trees in a hurricane; hectic chase through crowded city streets; rubble flying as a cave roof collapses.
Give me your images! :D
I'm beginning with the song that started it all.
Those of you who know me are very familiar with the fact that I listen to Epic music extensively. For those of you who haven't been introduced to the genre, it's the type of music you hear in movie trailers and the like.
This was the first really Epic song that caught my attention:
Composer/Artist: Two Steps From Hell
Album: Legend
Impressions: Rollicking, rolling waves; throbbing heartbeat; marching army; grim cadence of a requiem; menacing strokes of an enemy's blade; dances of elusive forest creatures, sneaking through the underbrush; wingstrokes of a dragon; swaying of trees in a hurricane; hectic chase through crowded city streets; rubble flying as a cave roof collapses.
Give me your images! :D
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