In the morning, everyone arose creaky and still tired. Sleeping on the ground--or whatever bits of floor were convenient--was beginning to pall.
La’ss’a confronted the ogre immediately. “So. Lead on to this stronghold.” The huge, hairy monstrosity hung its heavy head glumly and led them back onto the road. Barak trotted to keep up with its length strides.
“So, did you do any thinking about your life last night?”
The ogre blinked at him, perplexed. “No. I sleep last night.”
Undeterred, Barak persisted. “So what do you think will happen to you in the next day or so?”
It shrugged. “I dunno.”
Fa’ss’th joined in, “What will your former leader do once it finds out you led us here?”
“I think hobgoblins kill you, but that not my problem,” it fell silent, its expression dull. After another eight hours of hiking they came to a sharp bend in the road where a massive dead tree crouched ominously. The ogre shoved aside some underbrush, revealing a hole that led under the tree and opened onto a narrow track.
Olena looked up at the ogre. “Does this path lead to the stronghold?”
“Yup.”
“How far?”
The ogre’s massive brow furrowed. “I dunno, maybe tree, fo’ miles.”
Kyrian grinned and whispered to Olena, “He’s thought of something! The first time is always the hardest!” Olena gave him a black look and shushed him emphatically. The ogre frowned down at her brother.
“Are you makin’ fun of me?”
“Oh, no! Of course not!” Kyrian announced cheerfully. Olena jabbed him in the ribcage with her elbow and waved to get the ogre’s attention.
“What else can you tell us about the stronghold?” She demanded.
Fa’ss’th nodded. “Any traps or passwords we need to know?”
“Dum . . . ‘don’t kill me, don’t kill me’?” It contemplated the hole under the tree for a few moments. “Path goes around pond to rocks, hobgoblins watch there.”
Sam nodded briskly. “Give me five minutes, then follow,” he said, and vanished into the hole. He surveyed the lay of the land on the other side. A narrow trail skirted a wide scummy pond—perhaps more accurately called a bog—and passed a few scraggly trees before disappearing into some rocks. At the top of a stony ridge beyond the pond there was an enormous round pile of earth surrounded by a palisade. Smoke issued from holes in the top of the mound, which resembled the kind of ancient barrow where primitive people buried their kings. There was an entrance to this mound behind the log palisade, looking much like the entrance to a mineshaft. Sam nodded and began making his way around the pond.
The others waited impatiently, exchanging a lot of glances and weary sighs. Finally, they came to a wordless, fidgety agreement that they’d waited long enough. “So, what should we do with the ogre now?” Kyrian asked.
Oren looked at the hole a bit nervously, then at his warhorse. “I will stay here, if you wish, and await events.”
Kyrian nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
They clambered awkwardly between the dead tree roots. Sam had vanished, but they could see a few faint tracks on the muddy verge; it looked like he had skirted the pond and climbed a ridge on the far side to, perhaps, come up behind the hobgoblin sentries. La’ss’a squinted and thought she could see the sentries in the rocks; they didn’t seem too concerned with hiding, but they were in their own territory.
“Let’s walk up normally. It will give Sam the best chance for a surprise attack,” La’ss’a decided.
“Agreed,” Olena nodded.
Barak looked back at the ogre. “Now, you wait here for us. You’ll want to be on our good side if we come back, and well, if we don’t you can say you were coming to help the hobgoblins.” It looked extremely perplexed, but nodded slowly. “Good. We can work on your world view some more when we get back.”
The sentries spotted the group approaching in short order and raised a shout. One bellowed down towards the adventurers, but it was incomprehensible. The hobgoblins were well-armed with crossbows and swords, but they didn’t seem inclined to fire just yet.
La’ss’a approached slowly, holding her hands up. “Do you speak Common?” There was a brief pause while the hobs conferred, then one stepped out. Unlike the others, who were dressed in odd bits of metal and leather, he wore a proper suit of chain mail and carried a shield. He looked a bit like a sergeant.
“Sort of. Who’re you?”
“I am La’ss’a, and I hear you know a friend of mine.”
“A friend of yours?”
“Yes. We’ve come to speak with a lady you have kidnapped.” One of the hobgoblin sentries suddenly vanished. Fa’ss’th and Kyrian smirked at each other silently. La’ss’a noticed one of the other hobs starting to look around and cleared her throat noisily, baring her teeth to get its attention.
The hob sergeant continued speaking, a smirk on his face. “No ‘ladies’ around here.”
“We know you have a female human,” La’ss’a remonstrated mildly. “At least, we found the remains of your attack on her house and tracked you here. I’m sure we can arrange some sort of . . . compensation . . . if we are permitted to speak with her.”
“That so? Well, maybe we’ll let you talk with our boss, then. What kind of compensation are we talking about here?”
Another hobgoblin shrieked. “What the . . . something bit me!” It put a hand to its back and gaped at the bloody mess. The sergeant glared at him in disgust; all five sentries drew swords and began scanning the rocks.
“You people stay here and behave,” the sergeant ordered them harshly.
“But I have my offer ready,” La’ss’a objected, and raising her claws she launched herself into the sergeant’s stomach. They heard more scuffling in the rocks as Sam continued his surreptitious attack.
La’ss’a scratched futilely at the hob sergeant’s armor, growling. Kyrian darted forward and slammed his sword into the sergeant’s shoulder, causing a nasty wound. Within moments the melee had become general. Fa’ss’th covered himself as best he could while casting a spell: tongues of fire leapt at his command to bathe two of the hobgoblins. Barak fired energy beams into the melee, scorching a few rocks but otherwise not having any appreciable effect. Olena and Kyrian hacked and slashed mercilessly.
The sergeant attempted to retreat back to the stronghold, taking a thrown soul blade from Sam but somehow managing to remain on his feet. La’ss’a charged up the path, power crackling from her claws and managed to drop the sergeant before he could escape the rocks. She looked over her shoulder to see Sam, grinning insouciantly. The blond human pointed up the hill.
“You hear that?”
La’ss’a listened. “Hear what?”
“Hey guys!” Sam yelled. “I think we’re about to have company!” The adventurers looked at each other, then as one charged into the rocks, taking up whatever hiding places were available. Sam grabbed Barak and tried to make the academic take cover, but Barak was concentrating on a power and only crouched down a little.
A large group of hobgoblins issued from the barrow entrance and fanned out to take defensive positions behind the palisade. Finally, when there were at least twenty of them crouching behind the logs, a dozen of them broke off and began making their way down the trail. In the lead was an individual of massive size in a suit of fine chain mail, the hilt of a fancy sword banging his hip. He stopped to survey the carnage. Then, he began to laugh.
“You may as well come out, I can see at least one of you.” He waited for a moment, then shrugged. “As a matter of fact, I’ve rather been expecting the lot of you. So come out, let’s have a look at you.”
Barak stood up, defiantly, electricity crackling off his fingers as his power dissipated. He tried to put on a brave face, but he looked more awkward than anything. After a moment Olena and Fa’ss’th emerged from hiding as well. A dozen crossbows pointed at them, but the big hob waved them away.
“Surprising. You don’t look like much, but you took down a full squad. I’m Magsaid, the big boss hob of this fort.” He bowed rather extravagantly.
Olena blinked, startled. “Well met, Magsaid. I am Olena.”
Magsaid grinned widely, showing a great many sharp teeth. “Charmed, madame.”
“I am Fa’ss’th. We did try to negotiate with your guards, but they didn’t listen so well.”
“Hmm. Well, it’s no great loss. If you and your . . . friends are interested, you are welcome to join us for a meal. I think we all have some matters to discuss.”
“What matters?” Fa’ss’th asked.
Magsaid considered. “Perhaps you can tell me. You see, we’ve had forewarning of your arrival, and from an unusual source. Tell me, do you understand the nature of prophecy?”
Olena shook her head. “Not I. My people are more creatures of the here and now. Still, such talk intrigues me.”
“In my experience prophecy depends on who reads it and how it is interpreted,” Fa’ss’th replied.
Magsaid’s grin widened slightly. “We have a small temple here, and our cleric is rather in favor. Sometimes he knows but cannot explain why. He knew you would come, and he knew that we must assist you, somehow. This is the God’s will.”
“He saw us?” Olena asked skeptically.
“Not you specifically, but there were signs we could use to identify you. So, you see, I am very interested in discovering what brings you here.”
Barak blinked. “Signs? What signs?”
Magsaid gestured at the corpses. “Your prowess in battle, for one.”
“If my companions agree, I’d be happy to partake of your hospitality,” Olena said.
Fa’ss’th stepped back a bit. “I’d like to see an act of good faith here . . . all those crossbows put aside along with whatever additional weapons they carry.”
The boss hob shook his head. “No. They will remain here to take care of the mess, but they will not disarm. You have done well, but I do not think you can fight all of us, and I will not be ordered about in my own stronghold. If I allowed such, I would not remain boss for long.”
Sam considered the proposal from his hiding place, tossing his ephemeral blade from one hand to the other. Finally, he decided and stood.
“All right,” Fa’ss’th said grudgingly, eyeing Sam. “We will come. Lead on.”
“I was feeling a little hungry anyway,” Sam said by way of explanation. His eyes narrowed. “But I’m still not the trusting sort.”
“I don’t think trust has any place in our relationship,” Magsaid replied. The soldiers began shipping their crossbows and hauling the bodies away. Magsaid led the adventurers into the stronghold. Inside it was dark but pleasantly cool. They passed a guardroom and entered into a wide earthen chamber illuminated by a few torches. The room was carved from the earth and buttressed with crude beams, but the dirt floor was covered with clean rushes and the food on the heavy wooden tables smelled appetizing. At the far end of the room was a raised platform supporting a wooden throne draped with animal hides; Magsaid sat down in this chair, resting his feet on the head of a bear as though it were a footstool. Grabbing a haunch of meat from a nearby table, he bit in and began chewing with gusto.
Two other hobgoblins entered the room: one a tall female laced into an elegant lady’s dress, the portions of her anatomy that she obviously considered significant squeezed and lifted into prominence. The other was a second abnormally large male hob in a coal-black spiked breastplate. He carried a black spiked shield and a morningstar as well and appeared formidable. One of his eyes was cut through by a pale scar; it had turned white and milky and gave him an evil look.
“Come, sit, eat. Tell me your concerns,” Magsaid called, gesturing to the tables. “These are my advisors: Lorthane”—he indicated the female—“and Evergh,” he indicated the black-armored male. Lorthane sneered imperiously and Evergh nodded.
The adventurers made themselves more or less comfortable. Sam helped himself to a slab of meat while Barak eyed the food a bit and looked ill. La’ss’a and Fa’ss’th nibbled daintily, using their sharp teeth to good effect. Olena took an apple to show willing and Kyrian harrumphed at her.
“We’ve come to speak with a certain human female you recently acquired,” Fa’ss’th said at last.
“Well, it is true we have recently acquired a human female.”
“Yes,” Lorthane all but hissed. “In a successful raid.”
“Will you allow us to speak with her?” Fa’ss’th asked.
“That would depend on your reasons for speaking with her.”
“We have news of her family and wish to ask her some questions.”
Magsaid regarded the little lizard in disbelief, then burst out laughing. “You came all the way out here, past mortal peril, for that?”
Sam looked up, still chewing. “We’re close friends of the family.”
“It was faster to come here than go home,” Kyrian affirmed.
“So then, after you speak with her, you just go on your merry way?”
“Well, no, not exactly,” Sam spat out.
“If you do us this service, Magsaid, then we will be in your debt,” Olena murmured.
The boss hob chuckled some more. “I like you folks. You’re nearly as crazy as I am.” Lorthane snarled something at him in incomprehensible Goblin. Magsaid simply smiled at her and took another bite, leaning back in his throne. After a moment he belched hugely. “She thinks I should have you all killed, but she is a bloodthirsty one.”
Barak concentrated on a power.
Fa’ss’th tried to switch tacks. “Well, maybe if you shared some of the prophecy you spoke of, we might be willing to share more of our knowledge.”
“That is for Evergh to say. Evergh?” The black-armored hob made a complicated gesture. Magsaid grinned some more. “He says you will be the source of events that will rock the foundations of Faerun and pave the way for a new order. The God believes he will enjoy great new opportunities if you succeed.”
Kyrian stopped mid-bite. Lorthane snarled something angry again. To break the silence, Fa’ss’th coughed. “Forgive my manners. Could you have a messenger deliver this note to the guards down by the dead tree?” The lizard wizard dug out a piece of paper and began scribbling.
“Certainly. Lorthane, dearest, fetch a messenger, will you?” The female hob swelled visibly with outrage, then turned and swept from the room.
“So, are there any details on how this foundation-rocking will occur?”
Evergh gestured some more. “He doesn’t know. The God is big on obedience, not persuading with lots of details and reasoned arguments.”
“So we just wander off and wind up changing the world?” Barak asked, bewildered.
“I don’t pretend to know. But stranger things have happened.” Magsaid leaned forward a bit. “I believe I will allow you to visit your pet female. Perhaps we will all learn something interesting.” He kicked aside a fur rug in front of his throne, revealing a trapdoor. Evergh bent and opened it.
“All right, then,” Barak said, “Let’s go talk.”
“Evergh will lead you, so you will not think we are laying a trap.” Evergh climbed ponderously down the ladder beneath the trapdoor. Setting aside their food, the adventurers rose and followed him. It was very dark below; the floor was stone and the air smelled of damp. They could hear water trickling somewhere nearby. Olena dug out a sunrod and sparked it, shedding a warm golden glow over the cave. Barak and Sam pulled glowing stones from their pockets. The room they stood in appeared to be used for storage; it was filled with barrels, casks and sacks.
Evergh led them through the piles of goods and through several more chambers. One appeared to be an armory, one in which four guards played quietly played dice, and another that seemed full of iron strongboxes. He gestured for them to continue into yet another room.
* * *
“So let me see if I understand this,” Demaris said to one of her co-prisoners. “You let on that you had special ways of knowing things, then you went back to your quarters one night and boom, you had a bag over your head? I wouldn’t have expected that much subtlety out of that cretin.”
“So you know Sulveig?” Yorik asked.
“In a sense. He had to come brag over me when the hobs brought me in. He said he was ‘too busy’ to deal with me now, but if I wasn’t prepared to cooperated by the time he returned, I’d regret it. I think he’s off attacking Athkatla or something. I don’t know what he thinks he can do that will get the ogres into that city, but he seemed pretty sure of himself.”
“In my experience, he’s either working with the Shadow Thieves, or he will be crushed by them.”
“What Shadow Thieves?”
“It is the local thieves guild, except it is the only guild. They are intertwined with every facet of life in Amn. Nothing happens without their knowledge, and they are equally certain to have a stake in the matter as well.”
“Never heard of them. I think the ogres want Athkatla so they can control the trade from Maztica.” Demaris sighed.
“I can understand that. I have seen some of the trinkets and baubles that come through the trade markets. It is genuinely a land of wonder and opportunity.”
“The three of us are in a pretty lousy mess here. I don’t think anyone will even notice I’m gone or think to look for me.”
“Trust in Yorik, my skills are always in demand, and I haven’t found a situation yet I couldn’t get out of . . . or profit from. Somehow.”
Demaris shook her head. “I’m just going to kill that bastard. The rest can take care of itself.”
Yorik looked at her appraisingly. “You are going to kill a man with an army of ogres at his command? That is, well, ambitious, don’t you think?”
“It’s that or let him do whatever he wants with me. And granted what he’s threatened to do, I prefer to adopt a positive outlook.”
“Given that I don’t see a lot of big magical weapons hanging about here, I hope you won’t mind my skepticism about your chances. Might it not be better to work with him, learn his secrets before killing him?”
Demaris grimaced. She glanced at the ceiling. “What is that noise? Are they having a war up there?” She tugged angrily on the chain securing her to the wall.
Yorik made a show of listening. He thought he could make out the sound of many booted feet running above. “They’re certainly moving around a lot. I don’t suppose your bastard indicated when he would be returning?”
“No, they only brought me here yesterday, though. I’d be amazed if it was this soon.”
“Perhaps this is a rescue, then.”
Demaris snorted. “Not a chance.”
Ligeia, the third prisoner, stretched slightly and adopted an expression of studied boredom. Every so often, though, her eyes would flick towards Yorik and Demaris, following their conversation.
“Then why exactly are you here?” Yorik persisted. He smiled disarmingly. “I very much doubt a simple farmer with no friends would be of so much interest to the leader of a conquering army. I wouldn’t be Yorik, Knower of Things™, if I didn’t think there was something you weren’t telling me.”
“The only people that might be vaguely interested in my welfare haven’t seen me for months. I can’t imagine they’d just coincidentally show up at this moment and decide to go looking for me.” She scowled at Yorik, beginning to grow angry.
“My dear lady, I have a rule of thumb I set for myself: coincidences are never coincidences. Perhaps you are not aware of the significance of something you know, but our captor is? It is always the smallest piece of the puzzle that is most difficult to fit.”
Demaris gritted her teeth audibly. “My . . . father . . . trains people with . . . odd abilities.” She spoke as though every word were wrenched from the pit of her stomach with great difficulty.
Yorik patted her shoulder soothingly. “Odd abilities? You aren’t talking about a mage, I gather?”
She snorted. “No. This plane is lousy with mages, I wouldn’t exactly call them odd. Except maybe odd in the head.”
“And do you have some of these abilities?”
Demaris laughed bitterly. “No. Never.” Ligeia watched her as though mesmerized, abandoning the bored pretext. “Even if I could learn it, I wouldn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to learn it? Would it not make you more powerful?”
Her face stiffened. “Powerful? Oh, yes, I could be very powerful.”
“Ah, then I admire your tremendous courage and resolve . . . rare are the beings who could refuse such power,” Yorik said smoothly.
“And stupid are the beings that don’t,” Demaris retorted.
“When you say odd,” Ligeia piped up, her voice soft, “what is that?”
“Psionics,” Demaris announced bluntly. “Mind powers. Uncommon on this plane from what I’ve seen. Sulveig uses them, some of his followers do as well. I find it absurd, but there you go. Most people who have the power can’t get trained here and aren’t smart enough to teach themselves. So, they never discover their ability.”
“And you and your father trained such people?”
“No. Just my father.”
“You disapproved then?”
“It doesn’t matter much whether I approved or not now, does it?”
“It’s as I was saying, you never know where you might find that last critical piece of the puzzle. Do you think you are here as a way for Sulveig to get at your father?”
“Hah, much good that’ll do him. I haven’t spoken with the old man in years.”
“A father will do much to protect his daughter, even when their relationship is . . . strained. Might Sulveig be trying to acquire more soldiers for his army? Would your father’s students do such a thing?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I think maybe Sulveig is one of my father’s students.”
“Oh dear, has he perhaps gone down the path to the dark side?”
“The dark side? That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?”
Yorik gave a rueful smile. “Alas, I am just a merchant, and not the great actor of my childhood dreams. I cannot be anything but transparently melodramatic.”
“Let me put it this way: I think Sulveig has gone so far down the path to the dark side that he’s fallen off the end.”
“I can see this must be a difficult subject for you, but I suspect you saw this coming? You did not want your father to teach these students for fear of what could happen?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Demaris said wearily. “If people want to learn, that’s their business. I just wanted . . . I just wanted him to leave me alone.”
“He wanted you to learn something? To develop some of these abilities?”
“I . . . sort of. It was like he expected me to be something special.”
“The fact that you are here, a prisoner, means you are special somehow. You won’t like it, but sometimes we cannot choose not to be special. Sometimes that decision is made for us.”
Demaris shook her head. “I think everyone can choose. We just have to decide whether or not we can live with the consequences.”
“Sometimes you have to choose to be special to get out of situations like this,” Yorik said, shaking his chain suggestively.
Demaris sighed. Reaching down into her boot, she withdrew a very thin sliver of greenish metal. “I was saving this, but we may as well give it a shot.” Wedging her chained foot against the wall, she applied the metal sliver to the iron cuff. She strained at it for a long moment, then gasped as her grip slipped and the sliver gashed her foot badly. The metal cuff fell off and clanged on the floor. “Dammit!”
Yorik rushed over to her and began fussing over her foot. “Here, stop that,” Demaris said angrily. She handed him the metal sliver. “It’s adamantine, it can cut through most anything, but it’s a small piece so you have to be careful. Do your cuff, I’ll take care of my foot.” She ripped off her sleeve and began wrapping it like a bandage with practiced hands.
Yorik turned away and busied himself for a few moments; the cuff came off his foot easily and he handed the adamantine sliver to Ligeia. The quiet woman freed herself with similar ease, avoiding another injury. She glanced up at the exit, hearing voices and seeing a light approaching.
“Quick,” Ligeia instructed, “put the cuffs back on.”
* * *
Sam stepped past Evergh and looked into the next room. There were three people chained to the wall: two women and one man. He thought one of the woman looked a bit familiar . . . he’d last seen her wearing a straw hat. At least, until she turned into an ogre mage. The man was utterly nondescript; pudgy, middle-aged, but with a cheerful, friendly expression. The other woman was obviously not human. Her flowing hair was dark blue and her slender athletic body was draped against the wall like an odalisque.
“Ahh, our captors at last! Come to do your worst?” The man piped up. A hideous shriek rattled the room, coming from a wide opening in the far side of the crude prison. “I assure you, you will not have to spill any blood to get me to scream like that!”
“Demaris?” Fa’ss’th demanded, poking his snout around Sam’s waist.
“What the hell?” Demaris demanded.
“Um, this may sound odd in the current circumstances,” Sam said, “But I have bad news for you.” Demaris gaped at him.
“You have bad news?! Tell me, is it worse than being kidnapped by hobgoblins and given to a madman for sport?”
La’ss’a sidled towards the other captives. “We’re not here to hurt you, be patient,” she whispered.
Sam cleared his throat a bit anxiously. “Your father lies near death, unable to awaken. One of his previous students thought it best that you take possession of his estate.”
“Oh, that’s just wonderful! That’s just what I need right at this very moment! A house in the country!” Demaris hurled herself to her feet and presented an angry finger for Sam’s inspection. The cuff around her foot clanged on the floor and she realized what she’d done. “Dammit!” she yelled, and taking advantage of the distraction, she slugged Sam hard in the gut and ducked around him into the far room.
A black-mailed arm shot out and snagged her. Evergh backhanded Demaris impersonally across the face as she attempted to bite him, leaving a bright red mark. She lolled against his grip, barely conscious.
Sam pulled himself together and tapped his obsidian blade thoughtfully against his leg, eyeing Evergh fiercely.
About Me
Sep 7, 2007
Sep 5, 2007
Some Drawings
I've done some drawings for my online D&D game. Granted, they aren't spectacular and I really wish I had a better camera to transfer them to digital format, but it's a skill I enjoy practicing. So, here are Sulveig, Ligeia and Barak for your viewing pleasure.Aug 31, 2007
Psionics Game: Session 3
With a final sad glance, Olena stepped around the corpse of the dire boar, following Kyrian as he led the way to the waterfall. La’ss’a looked around at the woods a bit nervously.
“Are there any more of those creatures on the way?”
“Boars?” Kyrian asked. “Only the one as far as we’ve seen.”
As they approached the falls a tall, handsome man emerged from the rushing water and watched them, a drawn bow in his hands pointing vaguely downwards. Sam eyed the drawn bow skeptically. Olena noticed his expression and waved a hand reassuringly.
“It’s all right, Dougal, these people helped us in the clearing.” The fossergrim nodded and lowered the bow a bit more. His face was drawn with an expression of suffering.
“It would be best for you to leave quickly, whoever you are.”
“Is there something coming?” Fa’ss’th asked. “Maybe we could help you with it.”
Dougal shook his head. “I do not know what is happening. I am going inside; if you need me, call and I will come.” He turned and vanished once more beneath the waters. The adventurers looked up at the top of the waterfall, where an ugly purple glow reflected from the rocks.
“Shall we take a closer look?” Fa’ss’th asked. Kyrian unfurled his wings and darted up the rock face.
“Kyrian! Come back down here! It’s safer if we stay together!” Olena cried to no avail.
“Is there a path to the top of the falls?” Barak asked. Olena hurried towards a narrow trail that seemed to lead in that direction, gesturing for the others to follow her.
Sam sighed. “I guess we take the slow boat to the top.”
On reaching the top of the cliff they found Kyrian examining an immense growth of purple crystal. It seemed to have sprouted, like a plant, from the rocky bottom of the stream, dividing the flow into many separate channels. The running water made it sing faintly, like a wet finger on the rim of a wine glass.
Fa’ss’th and Barak approached, extending their psionic senses to examine the crystal. After a while in meditation, they turned to regard the group again.
“Oh, this is not good,” Fa’ss’th announced. Barak blinked at the lizard’s dire expression.
“No, this is very good.” He eyed the crystal, biting the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “We should see if we can extract several shards and seed the forest with them!”
“Seed the . . . what?” Olena asked, dumbfounded.
“You realize this is probably what is hurting the fey; it’s feeding off the local magic and converting it to psionic energy!” Fa’ss’th declared.
“If we can spread it out, we can expand its influence! Of course, that assumes that the local magical field is fairly uniform, and strong enough to support it . . .” Barak began.
La’ss’a interrupted him. “Olena, how long has this crystal formation been here?”
“It wasn’t here yesterday. Only a few hours, I think.”
Kyrian nodded. “Dougal trained me here for years and I promise you it’s new.”
Sam frowned. “Have any other strangers come through in the last day or so?”
“None,” Kyrian affirmed. “We’re quite isolated here.”
“None that we know of, at least,” Olena corrected. “If seeding the forest would ease the pain, then perhaps we should try it.”
Sam scowled into the distance. “Sulveig, that little weasel . . .” Fa’ss’th pulled a piece of crystal from his belt pouch and held it up, comparing them. The winged twins drew closer to see what he was doing.
“What do you want to bet that Nymbus took Sulveig to that cave at some point in the past?” Sam asked.
Fa’ss’th made a noise under his breath. “I bet the attack on Nymbus was coincidental. The elemental’s job was probably to destroy that crystal and spread it. See, they’re the same. As I said, this crystal formation is feeding off the magical energy in this area. The fey are connected to the energy, so the crystal acts like a disease to them.”
“Then what can we do to stop it?” Kyrian demanded.
“I’m getting to that,” Barak announced, appearing to have returned temporarily from his reverie. "Olena, when you first noticed that something felt off, what did you think, what did you do?"
Olena looked bewildered. “Mother disappeared under the water, and animals gathered around Hypatia’s tree.”
“Mind adding a little context for the outsiders?”
“Forgive me. Our mother is a Naiad, a water spirit, and Hypatia is a Dryad.”
Barak nodded. “They retreated to their traditional sources of power, water or a specific tree.”
“Hypatia cried out that Dougal was suffering—he’s a fossergrim.”
“Fossergrim?”
“A waterfall spirit,” Kyrian explained. “I came here to help him, but he was out of his mind. He attacked me—only when my sister wounded him did he return to his senses.”
Sam rolled his eyes and tapped a foot impatiently. “Is there a point to all of this?” He blinked and nearly toppled over as the earth under his foot rose and crumbled, revealing a woman’s face. Her skin was gray and looked hard, like granite, and her hair shone whitely even through the dirt.
Olena giggled. “Well met, Kefirah.” The woman climbed out of the hole and surveyed the group. Barak stared at her in delight.
“Is this another local ‘spirit’?” La’ss’a asked.
“Why are you trespassing on my mountain?” Kefirah demanded.
“She’s an oread, a mountain spirit,” Olena affirmed. “Stay your hand, Kefirah, these people are here to help us. Sam rolled his eyes again dramatically and groaned.
“Greetings to you as well, child,” Kefirah added belatedly. “I was not aware I was in need of ‘help’.”
“My sister means the two of us, I think,” Kyrian explained.
“Ah. Well, if you must.”
“You haven’t felt any distress for the last day or so? No weakness, headaches or the like?” Barak asked. The Oread shrugged.
“The world felt strange to me for a moment, but I let it pass through me and I am not harmed. Such is the way of nature . . . bend to change and you do not break. The hard stone is brittle and shatters.”
Barak nodded, breaking out in a pleased grin. “See, that’s what I thought. She’s used to drawing her power from the earth, so she adapted easily. The crystal isn’t actually harming your mother, it’s her resistance to the new power that’s the problem.” He waved his hands excitedly, emphasizing his words. At one point Sam was forced to grab his belt to prevent him from toppling into the stream.
“We’ve all been fighting it,” Kyrian mused.
“Then the new power is not evil, just different?” Olena asked.
“I get it,” Fa’ss’th said. “It’s like a poor man used to turnips and barley suddenly being given a feast of goose liver and caviar. It doesn’t make you sick because it’s poisonous, but because you aren’t used to it. There’s a hierarchy of energy in the world: natural power, divine power, arcane power, psionic power. Psionic is the ‘richest’ form of power, the most refined. So it would make sense that something like this would happen.”
“Right!” Barak enthused. “See, you have a psychological resistance to accepting the psychoactive refraction matrix and it’s causing a mechanical feedback effect . . .”
“Whoa, stop, Barak, stop!” Sam yelled.
“What?” Barak asked, looking hurt and perplexed.
“We don’t have time to listen to you and your ‘explanation’. We get the general idea. So, how do we fix it?”
“They need to release their concentration in accordance with Darylix’s absorption law.”
Sam massaged his forehead tiredly and turned to Olena and Kyrian. “Allow me to translate. You need to do a relaxation and meditation exercise to clear your mind.”
Olena gazed at the two humans a little uncertainly. “That’s it?”
“Well, if you want to be simplistic about it . . .” Barak began. Sam booted him in the shin pointedly.
“That’s it.”
“But . . .”
“Barak, it is three in the morning, I’ve been marching all day, my back hurts, my feet hurt, and instead of sleeping I’ve been attacked by tiny idiot fey, charged by a dire boar, and now I’m standing here listening to you babble about refraction matrices or whatever the hell it was that you said. Enough!”
“Sorry.”
“Just shut up and let me take care of it from here, okay?”
“All right, all right.”
“Academics,” Sam muttered. He gestured for Olena and Kyrian to sit down, then guided them through one of the simplest meditation exercises he knew. They were resistant at first, but as they focused themselves and relaxed, the buzzing diminished to a pleasant, energizing sensation.
“Thank you, Sam,” Olena said happily.
“And thanks to you, Kefirah,” Kyrian added. The Oread nodded and disappeared once more into the ground.
Barak beamed over them. “As an added bonus, your mother and the others will no longer be tied to specific places or things. Of course, I think that’s only within the crystal’s radius of effect, so they’re still somewhat limited . . .”
“Let’s go explain things to the others so we can get some sleep,” Sam cut in. Fa’ss’th looked at the long climb down the mountain and sighed.
“Once more into the breach,” he muttered, and then began trooping back down the path.
***
In the morning, Nymbus’ students awakened to find Aviana the Naiad standing nervously outside their rough camp, holding a large bundle wrapped in oilcloth in her arms. It seemed she had been standing there for some time, waiting patiently for them to awaken.
“What have you brought, Mother?” Kyrian asked gently. She smiled; the smile seemed a bit sad.
“I have brought gifts to these people for helping us. I bring them because I have learned something important. We may be small and far away from everything, but this does not make us safe. Only understanding can make us safe. So I think the time has come for you, my children, to leave this place and seek understanding in the world.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “So, I have also come to ask the strangers if they would take you with them and protect you until you are wise enough to protect yourselves.”
Olena’s lip trembled and she fought back tears. “We always thought this day might come.”
“We didn’t always believe it, though,” Kyrian muttered. Aviana set her bundle on the ground and embraced her son tightly. He sniffled and buried his head in her shoulder.
Fa’ss’th chuckled. “If you only knew how far from home we already are,” he said, grinning mischievously.
“You are fey, but human also, you cannot reject part of your nature,” Aviana told her son sternly. She let him go and bent to unwrap the oilcloth. Inside were three bows, two quivers full of arrows, and a bag of gems. “It is not much, but it should help you on your way.” She retreated a few steps, clasping her hands together. She looked at Nymbus’ students as though unsure what to do next. Barak began to fumble for something diplomatic to say and froze in horror when Sam abruptly stepped forward. The tall, lanky blond bowed formally to the Naiad.
“I will watch your children as though they were my own.” Aviana’s nervous expression transmuted instantly to a delighted smile and she kissed Sam on the cheek before pattering away to dive into the lake.
“You mean you’re actually capable of being diplomatic?” Barak whispered.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, friend,” Sam replied, grinning.
“Thank you, Sam,” Olena said softly.
“Hah. Just don’t make it a hard promise for me to keep, okay?”
“Of course,” she murmured, looking at Kyrian, who was still watching the ripples on the lake. Silence fell.
“Great,” La’ss’a said finally. “So we are still back to square one on figuring out how to fix our teacher.”
“Yes, but now you have our help,” Kyrian announced.
"Well after this nice family moment, it probably would be best not to talk to our teacher's daughter, it probably won’t be worth our time.”
Fa’ss’th poked La’ss’a. “She may be able to shed some light on what Nymbus was doing. I’m even less sure now whether these crystals are a good thing or if Nymbus had reason to hide them.”
La’ss’a appealed to the humans. “Sam? Barak? Think a change of mind is in order?”
Barak shrugged. “He may have tried to talk with Demaris about them. She might know something. At the very least she’s known Nymbus a lot longer than we have.”
“And besides,” Sam added, “If Sulveig was so interested in Nymbus’ work, he might pay Demaris a visit, too.”
The group, larger now, set back out on the strangely empty road and continued traveling west, encountering no living creatures. After a few days getting mildly turned around in the mountains, they discovered a high grassy plateau where someone had built a sturdy log house.
“With any luck, this is it,” La’ss’a remarked, continuing down the path.
Every inch of the plateau was given over to some productive activity. There were elaborate tiered gardens, long rows of unfamiliar plants, some of which grew tall and straight, some which crawled in vines along the ground. Fences enclosed tidy pastures, and a still near the cabin sent a thin thread of smoke into the air. Fa’ss’th looked at the pastures a bit skeptically, wondering where all the animals were.
As they approached, the door to the cabin opened and a woman came out, her dark hair pulled back under a farmer’s straw hat, her clothing workmanlike and unremarkable. She glared at them and thumped her fists onto her hipbones. “Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded
Fa’ss’th coughed. “Uh, we’re loking for Demaris to bring her some news.”
“And your point is?”
“Would you happen to be Demaris?”
“That is my name but I don’t know you.”
“No, but we do know one person in common. We bring news of your father, Nymbus.”
The only sign that this affected her in any way was the slight quirk of one eyebrow. “Maybe you’d better come inside,” she suggested, turning back to the cabin and holding the door open. Fa’ss’th approached, only to be assaulted by a horrible stench; the woman smelled like she hadn’t bathed in months. He thought it was strange, considering how otherwise orderly and tidy the homestead was. He hesitated on the doorstep and heard something . . . something big, shift its weight inside the house.
“Um, no offense, but maybe outdoors is the best place to discuss this,” he said brightly, retreating several steps and bumping into Kyrian. Demaris scowled.
“Screw this. Get ‘em, boys!” She shifted into an arcane pose and held up a hand, wild, crackling power gathering in her palm. An immense manlike creature squeezed through the narrow doorframe, roaring and swinging a club. It had an oversized head and jaw full of misshapen teeth, and it was so hairy it was difficult to tell where the crude hides it wore for clothing ended. Fa’ss’th squeaked in alarm and darted backwards between Kyrian and Olena.
Kyrian drew on the psionic power that lingered in his mind; his swords appeared in his hands in a flash and he slashed at the Ogre, but it’s thick hide turned the blows. It laughed at him, grinning evilly. Olena darted forward and launched herself at Demaris, her greatsword slicing into the gap between neck and shoulder. Demaris roared in pain. Her body began to swell and change until she stood nearly ten feet tall, her skin a deep hideous blue, the straw hat dangling from one pointed horn. Black eyes with glowing red pupils glared at the wound, which began rapidly sealing itself together.
Barak pulled fire into his hands and hurled the bolt at the towering Ogre Mage. For a moment it was wreathed in flames, screeching, then it beat itself out on the side of the house. Its skin sizzled where the fire had marked it, and the wounds did not heal of their own accord.
Sam’s energy blade exploded uselessly into fragments on the first ogre’s chest as another one forced its way through the door and swatted at Kyrian dismissively. The blond fey snorted and dodged the blow while the first ogre tried unsuccessfully to line La’ss’a up with its club. The little female lizard leaped in, landing on the ogre’s face and giving it a few nice gouges before she dropped to the ground again.
The Ogre Mage, it’s disguise penetrated, waved and muttered for a second and vanished from sight. Fa’ss’th’s keen ears heard it move away from the battle. He pulled a scroll from his belt and looked at it sadly. He’d hoped to learn this spell later, but sometimes battle upset your plans. “Oh well,” he sighed. “There will be other scrolls.” The Ogre Mage howled in fury as a cloud of glowing dust appeared around it, destroying the spell that kept it invisible. It gripped its eyes, blinded by the tiny glittering particles.
Barak whooped happily and shot another flaming ray at the Ogre Mage, it burst into flames and burned, casting a pall of foul-smelling smoke over the scene of the battle. Kyrian, Olena and La’ss’a succeeded in dispatching one ogre and injuring the other badly; it hurled its club away and shouted, “I surrender!”
Sam wandered over to the Ogre Mage and jabbed a blade into its eye socket, pinning it’s skull to the ground. He began methodically searching the corpse for valuables. La’ss’a held up a claw at the remaining Ogre and hissed.
“I’m not sure how long I can keep my friend over there from doing the same to you. You best tell us where the girl is if you want to keep your worthless life.”
“Hobgoblins took the girl! We just stay to loot!”
“Where did they take her?”
“I don’t know, mountain stronghold probably.”
“Where is the mountain stronghold?! Directions!”
“West along the road, in the mountains north of Murann. Path is hidden behind dead tree!”
Olena leaned down and whispered to La’ss’a, “Should we have it lead us?”
“Um, excuse me?” The voice came from behind them, towards the road. “May I be of assistance?”
Very slowly, everyone turned to stare at the newcomer. A tall, swarthy-skinned young man with black hair stood awkwardly on the path, his left hand gripping the reigns of a large chestnut warhorse. He was wearing a well-made suit of chainmail with a dull green tunic over it, a longsword sheathed at his side.
“What happened?” he asked, recoiling a bit from the attention. “Where did these ogres come from?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, friend,” Kyrian said quietly.
“Ah, forgive me, my name is Oren Falscar. I have been scouting this road, I heard the commotion and came this way. Do these monsters live here in this cabin?”
“No,” Kyrian explained. “We were hoping to find someone here, but this ogre claims that hobgoblins have taken her.”
Oren’s expression went hard and cold. It didn’t suit him, his face looked built for joviality. “Then we should seek her out at once. I offer you my assistance in this task.” He hesitated then and looked slightly abashed. “I am sorry, perhaps I should explain further. I am a paladin in the service of Tyr, sent to scout the mountains with two of my brother knights. We have seen evidence that the monsters are gathering their forces, so my brothers left to return to Athkatla with the news. I remained as is my duty, but it would be nice to have some company in these dangerous mountains!”
The ogre began attempting to crawl away surreptitiously—or at least as surreptitiously as something nearly twice as tall as a human can crawl. Sam cleared his throat noisily and it froze.
“Stay, brute,” Olena said, “your fate is not yet decided.”
“It isn’t?” Sam asked.
“Are you going to kill it?”
“You have another idea?” Sam asked her incredulously. He grinned, glancing at the paladin. “I mean, ahem, of course I had absolutely no intention of killing this creature. After all, he surrendered fairly!”
Barak gave Sam a skeptical look. Oren shifted his weight uncomfortably. “In truth, I do not care what you do with it. If you let it live it will simply return to its masters and swell the numbers of their army. But one wounded ogre probably won’t make much difference anyway.” He sighed.
Sam blinked. “Are you sure you’re a paladin?”
“Never mind that,” Olena interrupted. “This ogre said some hobgoblins took the woman that lives here to their stronghold. Do you know where that is?”
“No, but I have some small skill as a tracker. Perhaps I can assist you.” Sam shrugged and began bullying the ogre into dragging the corpses of its companions away. Oren surveyed the rest of the group a little helplessly. Fa’ss’th took a few steps towards the paladin and met his gaze squarely.
“Greetings. I am Fa’ss’th. And yes, the ogres seem to be gathering strength in this area.”
“Ah, well met, Fa’ss’th.”
Kyrian butted in. “Let’s get some rest. If the hobs wanted Demaris dead, they’d have just cut her throat here.” Olena gave him a dirty look and he flinched slightly.
“May I join you?” Oren asked.
“Sure,” said Fa’ss’th. “We’ll make camp and chat about what to do from there.”
“Are there any more of those creatures on the way?”
“Boars?” Kyrian asked. “Only the one as far as we’ve seen.”
As they approached the falls a tall, handsome man emerged from the rushing water and watched them, a drawn bow in his hands pointing vaguely downwards. Sam eyed the drawn bow skeptically. Olena noticed his expression and waved a hand reassuringly.
“It’s all right, Dougal, these people helped us in the clearing.” The fossergrim nodded and lowered the bow a bit more. His face was drawn with an expression of suffering.
“It would be best for you to leave quickly, whoever you are.”
“Is there something coming?” Fa’ss’th asked. “Maybe we could help you with it.”
Dougal shook his head. “I do not know what is happening. I am going inside; if you need me, call and I will come.” He turned and vanished once more beneath the waters. The adventurers looked up at the top of the waterfall, where an ugly purple glow reflected from the rocks.
“Shall we take a closer look?” Fa’ss’th asked. Kyrian unfurled his wings and darted up the rock face.
“Kyrian! Come back down here! It’s safer if we stay together!” Olena cried to no avail.
“Is there a path to the top of the falls?” Barak asked. Olena hurried towards a narrow trail that seemed to lead in that direction, gesturing for the others to follow her.
Sam sighed. “I guess we take the slow boat to the top.”
On reaching the top of the cliff they found Kyrian examining an immense growth of purple crystal. It seemed to have sprouted, like a plant, from the rocky bottom of the stream, dividing the flow into many separate channels. The running water made it sing faintly, like a wet finger on the rim of a wine glass.
Fa’ss’th and Barak approached, extending their psionic senses to examine the crystal. After a while in meditation, they turned to regard the group again.
“Oh, this is not good,” Fa’ss’th announced. Barak blinked at the lizard’s dire expression.
“No, this is very good.” He eyed the crystal, biting the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “We should see if we can extract several shards and seed the forest with them!”
“Seed the . . . what?” Olena asked, dumbfounded.
“You realize this is probably what is hurting the fey; it’s feeding off the local magic and converting it to psionic energy!” Fa’ss’th declared.
“If we can spread it out, we can expand its influence! Of course, that assumes that the local magical field is fairly uniform, and strong enough to support it . . .” Barak began.
La’ss’a interrupted him. “Olena, how long has this crystal formation been here?”
“It wasn’t here yesterday. Only a few hours, I think.”
Kyrian nodded. “Dougal trained me here for years and I promise you it’s new.”
Sam frowned. “Have any other strangers come through in the last day or so?”
“None,” Kyrian affirmed. “We’re quite isolated here.”
“None that we know of, at least,” Olena corrected. “If seeding the forest would ease the pain, then perhaps we should try it.”
Sam scowled into the distance. “Sulveig, that little weasel . . .” Fa’ss’th pulled a piece of crystal from his belt pouch and held it up, comparing them. The winged twins drew closer to see what he was doing.
“What do you want to bet that Nymbus took Sulveig to that cave at some point in the past?” Sam asked.
Fa’ss’th made a noise under his breath. “I bet the attack on Nymbus was coincidental. The elemental’s job was probably to destroy that crystal and spread it. See, they’re the same. As I said, this crystal formation is feeding off the magical energy in this area. The fey are connected to the energy, so the crystal acts like a disease to them.”
“Then what can we do to stop it?” Kyrian demanded.
“I’m getting to that,” Barak announced, appearing to have returned temporarily from his reverie. "Olena, when you first noticed that something felt off, what did you think, what did you do?"
Olena looked bewildered. “Mother disappeared under the water, and animals gathered around Hypatia’s tree.”
“Mind adding a little context for the outsiders?”
“Forgive me. Our mother is a Naiad, a water spirit, and Hypatia is a Dryad.”
Barak nodded. “They retreated to their traditional sources of power, water or a specific tree.”
“Hypatia cried out that Dougal was suffering—he’s a fossergrim.”
“Fossergrim?”
“A waterfall spirit,” Kyrian explained. “I came here to help him, but he was out of his mind. He attacked me—only when my sister wounded him did he return to his senses.”
Sam rolled his eyes and tapped a foot impatiently. “Is there a point to all of this?” He blinked and nearly toppled over as the earth under his foot rose and crumbled, revealing a woman’s face. Her skin was gray and looked hard, like granite, and her hair shone whitely even through the dirt.
Olena giggled. “Well met, Kefirah.” The woman climbed out of the hole and surveyed the group. Barak stared at her in delight.
“Is this another local ‘spirit’?” La’ss’a asked.
“Why are you trespassing on my mountain?” Kefirah demanded.
“She’s an oread, a mountain spirit,” Olena affirmed. “Stay your hand, Kefirah, these people are here to help us. Sam rolled his eyes again dramatically and groaned.
“Greetings to you as well, child,” Kefirah added belatedly. “I was not aware I was in need of ‘help’.”
“My sister means the two of us, I think,” Kyrian explained.
“Ah. Well, if you must.”
“You haven’t felt any distress for the last day or so? No weakness, headaches or the like?” Barak asked. The Oread shrugged.
“The world felt strange to me for a moment, but I let it pass through me and I am not harmed. Such is the way of nature . . . bend to change and you do not break. The hard stone is brittle and shatters.”
Barak nodded, breaking out in a pleased grin. “See, that’s what I thought. She’s used to drawing her power from the earth, so she adapted easily. The crystal isn’t actually harming your mother, it’s her resistance to the new power that’s the problem.” He waved his hands excitedly, emphasizing his words. At one point Sam was forced to grab his belt to prevent him from toppling into the stream.
“We’ve all been fighting it,” Kyrian mused.
“Then the new power is not evil, just different?” Olena asked.
“I get it,” Fa’ss’th said. “It’s like a poor man used to turnips and barley suddenly being given a feast of goose liver and caviar. It doesn’t make you sick because it’s poisonous, but because you aren’t used to it. There’s a hierarchy of energy in the world: natural power, divine power, arcane power, psionic power. Psionic is the ‘richest’ form of power, the most refined. So it would make sense that something like this would happen.”
“Right!” Barak enthused. “See, you have a psychological resistance to accepting the psychoactive refraction matrix and it’s causing a mechanical feedback effect . . .”
“Whoa, stop, Barak, stop!” Sam yelled.
“What?” Barak asked, looking hurt and perplexed.
“We don’t have time to listen to you and your ‘explanation’. We get the general idea. So, how do we fix it?”
“They need to release their concentration in accordance with Darylix’s absorption law.”
Sam massaged his forehead tiredly and turned to Olena and Kyrian. “Allow me to translate. You need to do a relaxation and meditation exercise to clear your mind.”
Olena gazed at the two humans a little uncertainly. “That’s it?”
“Well, if you want to be simplistic about it . . .” Barak began. Sam booted him in the shin pointedly.
“That’s it.”
“But . . .”
“Barak, it is three in the morning, I’ve been marching all day, my back hurts, my feet hurt, and instead of sleeping I’ve been attacked by tiny idiot fey, charged by a dire boar, and now I’m standing here listening to you babble about refraction matrices or whatever the hell it was that you said. Enough!”
“Sorry.”
“Just shut up and let me take care of it from here, okay?”
“All right, all right.”
“Academics,” Sam muttered. He gestured for Olena and Kyrian to sit down, then guided them through one of the simplest meditation exercises he knew. They were resistant at first, but as they focused themselves and relaxed, the buzzing diminished to a pleasant, energizing sensation.
“Thank you, Sam,” Olena said happily.
“And thanks to you, Kefirah,” Kyrian added. The Oread nodded and disappeared once more into the ground.
Barak beamed over them. “As an added bonus, your mother and the others will no longer be tied to specific places or things. Of course, I think that’s only within the crystal’s radius of effect, so they’re still somewhat limited . . .”
“Let’s go explain things to the others so we can get some sleep,” Sam cut in. Fa’ss’th looked at the long climb down the mountain and sighed.
“Once more into the breach,” he muttered, and then began trooping back down the path.
***
In the morning, Nymbus’ students awakened to find Aviana the Naiad standing nervously outside their rough camp, holding a large bundle wrapped in oilcloth in her arms. It seemed she had been standing there for some time, waiting patiently for them to awaken.
“What have you brought, Mother?” Kyrian asked gently. She smiled; the smile seemed a bit sad.
“I have brought gifts to these people for helping us. I bring them because I have learned something important. We may be small and far away from everything, but this does not make us safe. Only understanding can make us safe. So I think the time has come for you, my children, to leave this place and seek understanding in the world.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “So, I have also come to ask the strangers if they would take you with them and protect you until you are wise enough to protect yourselves.”
Olena’s lip trembled and she fought back tears. “We always thought this day might come.”
“We didn’t always believe it, though,” Kyrian muttered. Aviana set her bundle on the ground and embraced her son tightly. He sniffled and buried his head in her shoulder.
Fa’ss’th chuckled. “If you only knew how far from home we already are,” he said, grinning mischievously.
“You are fey, but human also, you cannot reject part of your nature,” Aviana told her son sternly. She let him go and bent to unwrap the oilcloth. Inside were three bows, two quivers full of arrows, and a bag of gems. “It is not much, but it should help you on your way.” She retreated a few steps, clasping her hands together. She looked at Nymbus’ students as though unsure what to do next. Barak began to fumble for something diplomatic to say and froze in horror when Sam abruptly stepped forward. The tall, lanky blond bowed formally to the Naiad.
“I will watch your children as though they were my own.” Aviana’s nervous expression transmuted instantly to a delighted smile and she kissed Sam on the cheek before pattering away to dive into the lake.
“You mean you’re actually capable of being diplomatic?” Barak whispered.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, friend,” Sam replied, grinning.
“Thank you, Sam,” Olena said softly.
“Hah. Just don’t make it a hard promise for me to keep, okay?”
“Of course,” she murmured, looking at Kyrian, who was still watching the ripples on the lake. Silence fell.
“Great,” La’ss’a said finally. “So we are still back to square one on figuring out how to fix our teacher.”
“Yes, but now you have our help,” Kyrian announced.
"Well after this nice family moment, it probably would be best not to talk to our teacher's daughter, it probably won’t be worth our time.”
Fa’ss’th poked La’ss’a. “She may be able to shed some light on what Nymbus was doing. I’m even less sure now whether these crystals are a good thing or if Nymbus had reason to hide them.”
La’ss’a appealed to the humans. “Sam? Barak? Think a change of mind is in order?”
Barak shrugged. “He may have tried to talk with Demaris about them. She might know something. At the very least she’s known Nymbus a lot longer than we have.”
“And besides,” Sam added, “If Sulveig was so interested in Nymbus’ work, he might pay Demaris a visit, too.”
The group, larger now, set back out on the strangely empty road and continued traveling west, encountering no living creatures. After a few days getting mildly turned around in the mountains, they discovered a high grassy plateau where someone had built a sturdy log house.
“With any luck, this is it,” La’ss’a remarked, continuing down the path.
Every inch of the plateau was given over to some productive activity. There were elaborate tiered gardens, long rows of unfamiliar plants, some of which grew tall and straight, some which crawled in vines along the ground. Fences enclosed tidy pastures, and a still near the cabin sent a thin thread of smoke into the air. Fa’ss’th looked at the pastures a bit skeptically, wondering where all the animals were.
As they approached, the door to the cabin opened and a woman came out, her dark hair pulled back under a farmer’s straw hat, her clothing workmanlike and unremarkable. She glared at them and thumped her fists onto her hipbones. “Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded
Fa’ss’th coughed. “Uh, we’re loking for Demaris to bring her some news.”
“And your point is?”
“Would you happen to be Demaris?”
“That is my name but I don’t know you.”
“No, but we do know one person in common. We bring news of your father, Nymbus.”
The only sign that this affected her in any way was the slight quirk of one eyebrow. “Maybe you’d better come inside,” she suggested, turning back to the cabin and holding the door open. Fa’ss’th approached, only to be assaulted by a horrible stench; the woman smelled like she hadn’t bathed in months. He thought it was strange, considering how otherwise orderly and tidy the homestead was. He hesitated on the doorstep and heard something . . . something big, shift its weight inside the house.
“Um, no offense, but maybe outdoors is the best place to discuss this,” he said brightly, retreating several steps and bumping into Kyrian. Demaris scowled.
“Screw this. Get ‘em, boys!” She shifted into an arcane pose and held up a hand, wild, crackling power gathering in her palm. An immense manlike creature squeezed through the narrow doorframe, roaring and swinging a club. It had an oversized head and jaw full of misshapen teeth, and it was so hairy it was difficult to tell where the crude hides it wore for clothing ended. Fa’ss’th squeaked in alarm and darted backwards between Kyrian and Olena.
Kyrian drew on the psionic power that lingered in his mind; his swords appeared in his hands in a flash and he slashed at the Ogre, but it’s thick hide turned the blows. It laughed at him, grinning evilly. Olena darted forward and launched herself at Demaris, her greatsword slicing into the gap between neck and shoulder. Demaris roared in pain. Her body began to swell and change until she stood nearly ten feet tall, her skin a deep hideous blue, the straw hat dangling from one pointed horn. Black eyes with glowing red pupils glared at the wound, which began rapidly sealing itself together.
Barak pulled fire into his hands and hurled the bolt at the towering Ogre Mage. For a moment it was wreathed in flames, screeching, then it beat itself out on the side of the house. Its skin sizzled where the fire had marked it, and the wounds did not heal of their own accord.
Sam’s energy blade exploded uselessly into fragments on the first ogre’s chest as another one forced its way through the door and swatted at Kyrian dismissively. The blond fey snorted and dodged the blow while the first ogre tried unsuccessfully to line La’ss’a up with its club. The little female lizard leaped in, landing on the ogre’s face and giving it a few nice gouges before she dropped to the ground again.
The Ogre Mage, it’s disguise penetrated, waved and muttered for a second and vanished from sight. Fa’ss’th’s keen ears heard it move away from the battle. He pulled a scroll from his belt and looked at it sadly. He’d hoped to learn this spell later, but sometimes battle upset your plans. “Oh well,” he sighed. “There will be other scrolls.” The Ogre Mage howled in fury as a cloud of glowing dust appeared around it, destroying the spell that kept it invisible. It gripped its eyes, blinded by the tiny glittering particles.
Barak whooped happily and shot another flaming ray at the Ogre Mage, it burst into flames and burned, casting a pall of foul-smelling smoke over the scene of the battle. Kyrian, Olena and La’ss’a succeeded in dispatching one ogre and injuring the other badly; it hurled its club away and shouted, “I surrender!”
Sam wandered over to the Ogre Mage and jabbed a blade into its eye socket, pinning it’s skull to the ground. He began methodically searching the corpse for valuables. La’ss’a held up a claw at the remaining Ogre and hissed.
“I’m not sure how long I can keep my friend over there from doing the same to you. You best tell us where the girl is if you want to keep your worthless life.”
“Hobgoblins took the girl! We just stay to loot!”
“Where did they take her?”
“I don’t know, mountain stronghold probably.”
“Where is the mountain stronghold?! Directions!”
“West along the road, in the mountains north of Murann. Path is hidden behind dead tree!”
Olena leaned down and whispered to La’ss’a, “Should we have it lead us?”
“Um, excuse me?” The voice came from behind them, towards the road. “May I be of assistance?”
Very slowly, everyone turned to stare at the newcomer. A tall, swarthy-skinned young man with black hair stood awkwardly on the path, his left hand gripping the reigns of a large chestnut warhorse. He was wearing a well-made suit of chainmail with a dull green tunic over it, a longsword sheathed at his side.
“What happened?” he asked, recoiling a bit from the attention. “Where did these ogres come from?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out, friend,” Kyrian said quietly.
“Ah, forgive me, my name is Oren Falscar. I have been scouting this road, I heard the commotion and came this way. Do these monsters live here in this cabin?”
“No,” Kyrian explained. “We were hoping to find someone here, but this ogre claims that hobgoblins have taken her.”
Oren’s expression went hard and cold. It didn’t suit him, his face looked built for joviality. “Then we should seek her out at once. I offer you my assistance in this task.” He hesitated then and looked slightly abashed. “I am sorry, perhaps I should explain further. I am a paladin in the service of Tyr, sent to scout the mountains with two of my brother knights. We have seen evidence that the monsters are gathering their forces, so my brothers left to return to Athkatla with the news. I remained as is my duty, but it would be nice to have some company in these dangerous mountains!”
The ogre began attempting to crawl away surreptitiously—or at least as surreptitiously as something nearly twice as tall as a human can crawl. Sam cleared his throat noisily and it froze.
“Stay, brute,” Olena said, “your fate is not yet decided.”
“It isn’t?” Sam asked.
“Are you going to kill it?”
“You have another idea?” Sam asked her incredulously. He grinned, glancing at the paladin. “I mean, ahem, of course I had absolutely no intention of killing this creature. After all, he surrendered fairly!”
Barak gave Sam a skeptical look. Oren shifted his weight uncomfortably. “In truth, I do not care what you do with it. If you let it live it will simply return to its masters and swell the numbers of their army. But one wounded ogre probably won’t make much difference anyway.” He sighed.
Sam blinked. “Are you sure you’re a paladin?”
“Never mind that,” Olena interrupted. “This ogre said some hobgoblins took the woman that lives here to their stronghold. Do you know where that is?”
“No, but I have some small skill as a tracker. Perhaps I can assist you.” Sam shrugged and began bullying the ogre into dragging the corpses of its companions away. Oren surveyed the rest of the group a little helplessly. Fa’ss’th took a few steps towards the paladin and met his gaze squarely.
“Greetings. I am Fa’ss’th. And yes, the ogres seem to be gathering strength in this area.”
“Ah, well met, Fa’ss’th.”
Kyrian butted in. “Let’s get some rest. If the hobs wanted Demaris dead, they’d have just cut her throat here.” Olena gave him a dirty look and he flinched slightly.
“May I join you?” Oren asked.
“Sure,” said Fa’ss’th. “We’ll make camp and chat about what to do from there.”
Aug 29, 2007
Obsidian Portal
Obsidian Portal is a resource for RPG gamers to track their campaigns online. It's primarily focused on maintaining the story of your game, with a blog of sorts for your adventure log and a wiki where you can store basic information in an organized structure. It's still in beta so some of the features are buggy (like the one that lets you assign NPC's as "GM Only"), but thus far I've found it to be rewarding.
If you'd like to check out my game, it's in the list under Brave New World. As an added incentive, you can see some of my actual drawings there, as I figured out how to use Sprint Picturemail with my poor sad abused little cell phone, so I've been sketching like mad over the past couple of days. And yes, I know the pictures are strangely . . . orange. I think the effect doesn't look so bad, but it has made me desperately desire a real camera with a FLASH.
And before you tell me how bad my art sucks, none of those drawings took me longer than 15 minutes. So there. I may be updating them as I become more familiar with using the camera, though.
If you'd like to check out my game, it's in the list under Brave New World. As an added incentive, you can see some of my actual drawings there, as I figured out how to use Sprint Picturemail with my poor sad abused little cell phone, so I've been sketching like mad over the past couple of days. And yes, I know the pictures are strangely . . . orange. I think the effect doesn't look so bad, but it has made me desperately desire a real camera with a FLASH.
And before you tell me how bad my art sucks, none of those drawings took me longer than 15 minutes. So there. I may be updating them as I become more familiar with using the camera, though.
Aug 28, 2007
Psionics Game: Nymbus' Journal Stone Entries
Stone 1:
“Ga’an is making a great deal of progress towards integrating his powers with his martial skills. I wish he were more focused on studying, though, but he never seems able to move beyond the desire to fight.
“Today I overheard him telling Sulveig that he plans to use his new training to lead his people out of the deep tunnels where they have been slaves to the drow, illithids and other Underdark inhabitants for centuries. Certainly he is allowed his ambition, but I find the prospect of a psionic war in the realms below somewhat troubling. It is fortunate that the illithid here are a weak and paltry race, not like their cousins that ruled so many planes long ago.
“It is probably a needless concern, as my students will have little time or opportunity for pursuing Ga’an’s goals if things happen as I expect.”
Stone 2:
“I traveled to Amn today for supplies and encountered a young rowdy that nearly made off with my money. He has some small potential for power, although I do not think he will make a true psion. Still, as they say here, any port in a storm, so I attempted to engage his interest. This proved more difficult than I had anticipated and it was only through demonstration of my own considerable abilities that I was able to convince him to accept my tutelage.
“Within half an hour of his arrival at the school he’d already discovered my cache of psychoactive crystals. I suspect that I would discover several of the most valuable missing were I to conduct an inventory. It is hardly worth the effort; he will no doubt have use for them himself in the coming months. Still, I had best move everything important to the Observatory before retiring for the evening.
“I still have a nagging desire to ask him where he came by that preposterous name, however. What mother names her child ‘Sam’? It sounds like something you’d call a small dog.”
Stone 3:
“Baugetha was not pleased to discover I was engaging more students. I think she is used to enjoying the full attention of her trainer and does not look forward to watching me train novices while her own more advanced studies are neglected. This was exacerbated, I think, when she attempted to be friendly towards Athur and was rewarded for her efforts by being referred to as a ‘child’. Granted, he calls everyone that, but I think he will learn better soon.
“She was still further displeased when I revealed that it was my intention to have her teach the newer students, at least for the most rudimentary portions of their education. She accepted my explanation that I consider teaching to be part of the advanced study course, but it was a near thing. Dwarf women certainly are ferocious.”
Stone 4:
“Tendwis believes I need to keep a closer watch on Sulveig. I have counseled her before about her paranoia; it is an unusual failing for a githzerai. I wonder whether it might be best to return her to her people before something untoward occurs as a result. I wonder also if the time she has spent on the Prime has unsettled her mind somehow. She has pursued odd directions for her studies and I confess it is somewhat alarming to see how her feet fail to touch the ground when she is not paying attention.
“On a more positive note, she has succeeded in prompting Ga’an to take a more strategic approach. In time, this will likely bear fruit.
“Zerth Namoblix sent me a message to, as he said, ‘remind me of our agreement’. I hastened to assure him that Tendwis continues to learn and will be returned to him in due time. I have been able to use the chaos-stuff he provided to great effect; it would be unwise to allow him to become dissatisfied with me.”
Stone 5:
“I find it strange that Barak and Sam appear to have become good friends in the short time they have lived here. Neither speaks very much and Sam seems to be unpleasant towards other people as a matter of principle. Perhaps it is only because they are of similar ages and isolated from their former lives. It hasn’t harmed Barak’s devotion to his studies. I wish I had encountered that young man years ago. Of course, if I had my other students would likely have corrupted him, so it is perhaps best that I have him now. I wish there was more time. He has the potential to be truly great if he applies himself.
“What is it about humans that makes them able to cram centuries of life into a few short decades? If we could all learn this trick, what progress could we make? Or, perhaps I should be asking, ‘what disasters could we wreak?’ Humans seem sane only when they are isolated from their fellows. In large numbers they are horrifying.”
Stone 6:
“Would someone please explain to me how a half-giant manages to break his ankle in a gopher-hole while walking to class? Tobrin is by far the clumsiest creature it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. Luckily he worships Athur, although I’m not sure Athur benefits from the worship, and their relationship gives Tobrin a measure of self-confidence and even dignity. I dread to think what the school would look like otherwise. Enormous holes in the walls or some such.”
Stone 7:
“And lo, I have discovered . . . lizards. They seem harmless, actually, although I’m not yet sure which of them is which. It’s a pity the one has already learned the rudiments of wizardry, it may make him—I think that’s the male anyway—resistant to my tutelage. The female—I think—disapproves completely of my furniture arrangements and has taken it upon herself to displace everything in the student quarters. Is this some kind of nesting behavior? I must confess that I don’t know very much about lizards, especially the kind that live in a dragon-infested swamp created by a portal into the elemental plane of Water. I thought of going into the city in that peculiar country and doing research, but the fact that even the peasants were hesitant to speak of their strange unnatural terrain feature dissuaded me.
“The look on Sam’s face when he discovered his new roommates was quite amusing, however, and makes up for whatever trouble they may cause while they are getting settled in. I think they were amused in turn when Barak complained that my new pets had gotten loose. Clearly my new students are going to get along like a house afire.”
Stone 8:
“Krrik’tchuk caught some kind of small winged woman while he was exploring away from the school. It took some work, but eventually I was able to understand the creature’s speech and reassure it that we did not mean to harm it. Then I was forced to explain to the giant bug that we don’t eat sentient creatures because paladins would show up and beat us to death. Well, not me obviously, but certainly anyone else. This argument did not go over very well with him. I will have to speak with Sulveig, he was obviously egging Krrik on.
“I returned the small creature to its valley and met the other inhabitants. These ‘fey’ are not uncommon in this part of the world, possibly due to the large elven forests elsewhere in this country. They were quite friendly and I took advantage of the opportunity to study them at some length. The females especially seemed lonely and urged me to visit again soon. Perhaps I will oblige them, I doubt any harm can come from it. Humanity wears on me and what Demaris doesn’t know can’t hurt her. It will be ten or fifteen years before Prodeclas is finished with her anyway. Strange to think that Krrik might be dead of old age by then. Thri-kreen do not live very long. Then again, humans don’t ordinarily live much longer.”
“Ga’an is making a great deal of progress towards integrating his powers with his martial skills. I wish he were more focused on studying, though, but he never seems able to move beyond the desire to fight.
“Today I overheard him telling Sulveig that he plans to use his new training to lead his people out of the deep tunnels where they have been slaves to the drow, illithids and other Underdark inhabitants for centuries. Certainly he is allowed his ambition, but I find the prospect of a psionic war in the realms below somewhat troubling. It is fortunate that the illithid here are a weak and paltry race, not like their cousins that ruled so many planes long ago.
“It is probably a needless concern, as my students will have little time or opportunity for pursuing Ga’an’s goals if things happen as I expect.”
Stone 2:
“I traveled to Amn today for supplies and encountered a young rowdy that nearly made off with my money. He has some small potential for power, although I do not think he will make a true psion. Still, as they say here, any port in a storm, so I attempted to engage his interest. This proved more difficult than I had anticipated and it was only through demonstration of my own considerable abilities that I was able to convince him to accept my tutelage.
“Within half an hour of his arrival at the school he’d already discovered my cache of psychoactive crystals. I suspect that I would discover several of the most valuable missing were I to conduct an inventory. It is hardly worth the effort; he will no doubt have use for them himself in the coming months. Still, I had best move everything important to the Observatory before retiring for the evening.
“I still have a nagging desire to ask him where he came by that preposterous name, however. What mother names her child ‘Sam’? It sounds like something you’d call a small dog.”
Stone 3:
“Baugetha was not pleased to discover I was engaging more students. I think she is used to enjoying the full attention of her trainer and does not look forward to watching me train novices while her own more advanced studies are neglected. This was exacerbated, I think, when she attempted to be friendly towards Athur and was rewarded for her efforts by being referred to as a ‘child’. Granted, he calls everyone that, but I think he will learn better soon.
“She was still further displeased when I revealed that it was my intention to have her teach the newer students, at least for the most rudimentary portions of their education. She accepted my explanation that I consider teaching to be part of the advanced study course, but it was a near thing. Dwarf women certainly are ferocious.”
Stone 4:
“Tendwis believes I need to keep a closer watch on Sulveig. I have counseled her before about her paranoia; it is an unusual failing for a githzerai. I wonder whether it might be best to return her to her people before something untoward occurs as a result. I wonder also if the time she has spent on the Prime has unsettled her mind somehow. She has pursued odd directions for her studies and I confess it is somewhat alarming to see how her feet fail to touch the ground when she is not paying attention.
“On a more positive note, she has succeeded in prompting Ga’an to take a more strategic approach. In time, this will likely bear fruit.
“Zerth Namoblix sent me a message to, as he said, ‘remind me of our agreement’. I hastened to assure him that Tendwis continues to learn and will be returned to him in due time. I have been able to use the chaos-stuff he provided to great effect; it would be unwise to allow him to become dissatisfied with me.”
Stone 5:
“I find it strange that Barak and Sam appear to have become good friends in the short time they have lived here. Neither speaks very much and Sam seems to be unpleasant towards other people as a matter of principle. Perhaps it is only because they are of similar ages and isolated from their former lives. It hasn’t harmed Barak’s devotion to his studies. I wish I had encountered that young man years ago. Of course, if I had my other students would likely have corrupted him, so it is perhaps best that I have him now. I wish there was more time. He has the potential to be truly great if he applies himself.
“What is it about humans that makes them able to cram centuries of life into a few short decades? If we could all learn this trick, what progress could we make? Or, perhaps I should be asking, ‘what disasters could we wreak?’ Humans seem sane only when they are isolated from their fellows. In large numbers they are horrifying.”
Stone 6:
“Would someone please explain to me how a half-giant manages to break his ankle in a gopher-hole while walking to class? Tobrin is by far the clumsiest creature it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. Luckily he worships Athur, although I’m not sure Athur benefits from the worship, and their relationship gives Tobrin a measure of self-confidence and even dignity. I dread to think what the school would look like otherwise. Enormous holes in the walls or some such.”
Stone 7:
“And lo, I have discovered . . . lizards. They seem harmless, actually, although I’m not yet sure which of them is which. It’s a pity the one has already learned the rudiments of wizardry, it may make him—I think that’s the male anyway—resistant to my tutelage. The female—I think—disapproves completely of my furniture arrangements and has taken it upon herself to displace everything in the student quarters. Is this some kind of nesting behavior? I must confess that I don’t know very much about lizards, especially the kind that live in a dragon-infested swamp created by a portal into the elemental plane of Water. I thought of going into the city in that peculiar country and doing research, but the fact that even the peasants were hesitant to speak of their strange unnatural terrain feature dissuaded me.
“The look on Sam’s face when he discovered his new roommates was quite amusing, however, and makes up for whatever trouble they may cause while they are getting settled in. I think they were amused in turn when Barak complained that my new pets had gotten loose. Clearly my new students are going to get along like a house afire.”
Stone 8:
“Krrik’tchuk caught some kind of small winged woman while he was exploring away from the school. It took some work, but eventually I was able to understand the creature’s speech and reassure it that we did not mean to harm it. Then I was forced to explain to the giant bug that we don’t eat sentient creatures because paladins would show up and beat us to death. Well, not me obviously, but certainly anyone else. This argument did not go over very well with him. I will have to speak with Sulveig, he was obviously egging Krrik on.
“I returned the small creature to its valley and met the other inhabitants. These ‘fey’ are not uncommon in this part of the world, possibly due to the large elven forests elsewhere in this country. They were quite friendly and I took advantage of the opportunity to study them at some length. The females especially seemed lonely and urged me to visit again soon. Perhaps I will oblige them, I doubt any harm can come from it. Humanity wears on me and what Demaris doesn’t know can’t hurt her. It will be ten or fifteen years before Prodeclas is finished with her anyway. Strange to think that Krrik might be dead of old age by then. Thri-kreen do not live very long. Then again, humans don’t ordinarily live much longer.”
The Bourne Ultimatum
It occurs to me that I might want to post something that isn't a.) gaming-related and b.) seven pages long before I lose 100% of my readership. This gaming thing occupies WAY too much space in my brain. I haven't even been working on my novel, although I think that will change once the game settles down into a regular thing.
Anyway, I did go see The Bourne Ultimatum, and my review of it is going to be curiously similar to my review of Live Free or Die Hard, namely that it was cool but not really memorable. I've been told the movies don't resemble the books very much, but I don't really like the spy-thriller-drama genre of books, so I'm just sticking with the movies.
The general plot is that a newspaper reporter digs up some dirt on a nasty government assassination project that involved Bourne. So, the scary government guys that want to cover up this information assume (stupidly) that Bourne must be involved in this somehow. Then he actually *shows up* and confirms this hypothesis because he'd like to find out what the reporter's source knows. It kind of gets crazy from there.
I think the primary reason this movie is not memorable is that it doesn't really dig into the character's motivations. Ayn Rand (in The Art of Fiction), mentioned that this was characteristic of Naturalist art works: that they only go as far as surface motivations without really digging into the underlying premises that drive people. In other words, that they only go "one onion skin" deep. There are myriad opportunities in The Bourne Ultimatum for people to say something really profound about the premises behind government coverups and murder, but it winds up amounting to things like:
Jason Bourne regrets killing people. He's sad.
Nicki Parsons likes Jason.
The CIA deputy director Noah Vosen is a bad man.
Pamela Landy is a nice lady.
So, the big dialogue scenes are lackluster and you find yourself saying, "yeah, whatever. Let's have an action sequence!" The trouble is, what's the point of having an action sequence without motivation?
Anyway, I did go see The Bourne Ultimatum, and my review of it is going to be curiously similar to my review of Live Free or Die Hard, namely that it was cool but not really memorable. I've been told the movies don't resemble the books very much, but I don't really like the spy-thriller-drama genre of books, so I'm just sticking with the movies.
The general plot is that a newspaper reporter digs up some dirt on a nasty government assassination project that involved Bourne. So, the scary government guys that want to cover up this information assume (stupidly) that Bourne must be involved in this somehow. Then he actually *shows up* and confirms this hypothesis because he'd like to find out what the reporter's source knows. It kind of gets crazy from there.
I think the primary reason this movie is not memorable is that it doesn't really dig into the character's motivations. Ayn Rand (in The Art of Fiction), mentioned that this was characteristic of Naturalist art works: that they only go as far as surface motivations without really digging into the underlying premises that drive people. In other words, that they only go "one onion skin" deep. There are myriad opportunities in The Bourne Ultimatum for people to say something really profound about the premises behind government coverups and murder, but it winds up amounting to things like:
Jason Bourne regrets killing people. He's sad.
Nicki Parsons likes Jason.
The CIA deputy director Noah Vosen is a bad man.
Pamela Landy is a nice lady.
So, the big dialogue scenes are lackluster and you find yourself saying, "yeah, whatever. Let's have an action sequence!" The trouble is, what's the point of having an action sequence without motivation?
Aug 25, 2007
Psionics Game: Second Session
La’ss’a checked to make sure Sulveig had left the premises before turning to Athur again. "I have some more questions for you, now that he is gone, specifically about this group you belong to. You wouldn’t happen to have a place where we could research some recent events, would you?”
“What kind of recent events?”
“You said you monitor psionic activity, and the most recent psionic activity was a Psionic Storm sent after, I would assume, our teacher.How many people does that take, and did you at least track anyone involved?”
Athur sighed. “It’s a little more complicated than that, and I have no reason to trust you with information that may prove dangerous. I can at least tell you that we cannot detect individuals using psionics very well, only large concentrations of power, and even this is only possible because Faerun is all but barren of psionic energy.”
“Dangerous as in we would know some of the people you might be interested in following?” La’ss’a asked.
“Dangerous as in you would know the number and power of my allies, as well as the location of our base.” Sam squinted at Athur, trying to follow the logic of this.
“Do you have any local contacts? I’m not asking to visit your main stronghold, just a library or something.”
There was a long pause while Athur visibly considered the alternatives. Finally, he spoke, indecision evident in his voice. “I don’t think I can help you with what you request.” He gestured to the locked door of the observatory. “Our activities on this plane have been extremely limited because Nymbus previously did most of the monitoring himself.”
“Ah,” La’ss’a began hopefully, “Then maybe you know how we can get in with Nymbus being indisposed?”
“I do not, Nymbus always guarded his secrets carefully." He looked at the door.“It is possible I can . . .” he murmured and attempted to walk through the wall, but there was a flash of light and he was knocked sprawling to the ground. His expression was extremely chagrined. “So much for that idea. I don’t know what the lock is on the door, but even a latch is enough to prevent me from opening it. I can’t handle solid objects.”
La’ss’a sighed. “Well, thank you for the assistance you provided with Sulveig. We will take it from here.”
Athur bowed politely to the little female lizard. The students looked at each other, then at Nymbus lying on the ground. Athur eyed them askance as they picked up their mentor and attempted to use his hand to open the door. After some awkward flopping around they got him in position, but the door did not open. La’ss’a jiggled the doorknob a bit but it was quite thoroughly locked.
“I can try using a power to open it,” Barak offered.
“You know that power?” Fa’ss’th asked, startled. He cast a spell and wandered around the building, muttering.
Barak considered the door a little further, then closed his eyes and manifested his power. There was a loud clunk and the door creaked open about an inch. Athur stared in shock as the bearded human cautiously pushed on the door and entered the observatory. The transparent man attempted to follow but was rebuffed by the same shocking effect. The other students approached and peeked inside.
The interior of the observatory looked like one enormous machine. An architecture of polished brass rings, each one at least fifty feet in diameter, supported metal and crystal orbs of varying colors and sizes. Wide stained-glass windows in the domed ceiling above filled the room with a rainbow of light. The floor was a complex mosaic of interlocking tiles that seemed to spiral in towards a simple but beautifully-made desk at the center. The desk was made from a dark reddish wood and polished to a high gloss.
Barak approached the desk slowly, gaping in wonder at the silent and motionless machinery. He guessed that it was some sort of enormous calander, tracking the movements of the moon and stars. At the center of the room, he could look directly up into the heart of the engine; it was a bit dizzying in its complexity. The desk had a few semiprecious stones scattered over its surface, but was otherwise bare.
Sam, Fa’ss’th, and La’ss’a moved forward to stand around it as Barak examined the stones. They were smooth and rounded, as though they spent long years washed by a river, but otherwise unremarkable. He thought that there was some sort of pattern or organization to their placement on the desk, but could not immediately discern what it was.
Bored, Fa’ss’th began examining under the desk, discovering a single drawer. He pulled cautiously on the knob and it opened easily. Before he could poke his nose inside, something whipped out, hissing, and wrapped itself around his left arm. Meanwhile, Barak reached out and touched one of the stones. It hummed faintly and began to speak in a tinny voice that he recognized instantly as belonging to Nymbus. Startled, he stepped back and nearly knocked over Fa’ss’th, who was struggling silently with the thing on his arm. It looked like a piece of jewelry, a snake carved from ivory and inlaid with gold, but it moved as though it were alive, and it even appeared to be breathing. Its grip on the little lizard’s arm was very strong.
Two more snakes slid out of Fa’ss’th’s clothing, one an ordinary living viper, the other seemingly made from crystals. They investigated the ivory snake, touching noses with it briefly. The ivory snake flicked a dark purple tongue at them, then the three creatures lost interest in each other, Fa’ss’th’s familiar and psicrystal returning to their respective hiding places. Looking up at Barak, Fa’ss’th shrugged and ceased his vain attempts to remove the ivory snake.It didn’t seem immediately threatening.
Nymbus had continued quietly speaking throughout this exchange, in a language unknown to any of the students. Their mentor sounded peculiar: tired and sad, almost defeated.
“If we wait until morning, I could try to understand that language. I just have to study a scroll,” Fa'ss'th offered.
“I don’t mind that,” Sam said. “We’ve had a long day.”
“Good enough,” La’ss’a agreed.
The four students closed the door politely but firmly in Athur’s furious face and went to sleep on the floor of the observatory, Fa’ss’th writing furiously in his spellbook book before turning in. He was glad he’d thought to bring scribing materials with him. Barak examined the smooth stone again and managed to decipher its activation mechanism and replay the message. Content, he waited for the morning as well.
Fa’ss’th cast his newly-learned spell upon awakening and gestured for Barak to replay the message.
"What did it say?" Sam asked when the message had finished playing. Fa'ss'th frowned thoughtfully.
"It's a message for his daughter, all about evil coming and the students he trained; there were three groups originally. We're the third group. He ran the first group off by being a jerk, and the second group was evil so that just leaves us."
“So, Sulveig and Athur . . .”
"Second and first groups, I bet.”
“So what do we do now?” La’ss’a demanded.
Sam shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t want to get the daughter involved, but if she already knows something about this we may have to go see her anyway. I don’t trust the other groups of students, they have their own agendas.”
“All right, so let’s hit the road,” Barak said.
“Wait, how do I get this thing off my arm?” Fa’ss’th demanded.
"Is it hurting you?”
“No.”
“Just leave it for now, then,” Barak decided. “We’ll worry about it later.”
Athur had taken Nymbus inside when the students cautiously opened the door, so they snuck into their former quarters and gathered provisions for a long journey, then left before Athur noticed them again. The small trail leading out of Nymbus’ personal valley connected, before long, into a major highway running, roughly, east and west. After a brief pause, they followed the road west.
The world seemed empty and abandoned. After a full day of walking they encountered no one and nothing on the road; when it finally began to get dark they camped in a pleasant glade in the shadow of a particularly large mountain.
* * *
Olena and Kyrian sat by the shore of a clear, placid lake, listening to their mother sing. Aviana, their mother, was a Naiad, a water-fey, and bound to this lake. Some years ago she had trysted with a human and produced two children, in appearance unlike either their mother or their father. Olena and Kyrian were short and slender in stature, with vast butterfly wings sprouting from their backs granted by their half-fey blood. They had lived all their lives in this valley with the many fey gathered there. The valley was impregnated with magical energy that shielded them from outsiders.
Aviana’s song was cut off abruptly as the Naiad cried out in pain. Olena and Kyrian felt their minds fill with a hideous subliminal buzzing . . . it seemed to rattle through their bodies, shaking loose their ties with the world. It was a painful and terrifying sensation. They watched their mother dive into the lake and vanish.
“Mother’s safer down there,” Kyrian told his sister, holding his hands over his head in a vain effort to block out the noise.
They turned to look at the ancient tree growing beside the lake, the home of another type of fey, a dryad. Animals were crawling through the underbrush towards it, gathering in a silent congregation. The crowd grew larger with every moment that passed, first smaller animals like snakes and raccoons, then deer and foxes and even a bear. Then the brush shook and the massive, hulking shape of a dire boar, larger than the largest horse and more ferocious than a maddened wolverine, joined the gathering. The two siblings drew closer together, alarmed.The animals stood as if listening, then turned to look at the two half-fey. Then the dire boar snorted, breaking the spell, and the animals vanished into the brush once more.
“Hypatia? Can you hear me?” Olena called a bit timidly. “Are you well?”
"I’d wager not,” Kyrian said.
The Dryad’s voice rattled through the valley, overpowering even the terrible buzzing for a moment. “Leave me! I need you not, half-breeds!”
“We felt a . . . disturbance . . . maybe an attack. Do you feel it too?”
“I feel it, all the Valley feels it! Oh, Dougal, it will destroy you!” Hypatia shrieked, her voice full of grief and despair.
“Dougal must be in danger!” Kyrian cried and set off towards the nearby waterfall, splashing heedlessly through a shallow creek.
"Kyrian, wait!” Olena cried, chasing after him.
Kyrian reached the base of the waterfall in a matter of minutes. A vicious purple glow, the color of bruised flesh, lit the dark sky at the very top of the falls. Before Kyrian could get a good look at it the Dougal stepped from the rushing water. His eyes stared at brother and sister, vacant with madness.
“What is this?!” Kyrian demanded.
“Dougal!” Olena cried. “What is happening to the Valley? To us?!”
Dougal’s eyes focused on Kyrian and he bent, pulling a longspear from the waters. Quicker than thought, he lunged at Kyrian, sinking the weapon into the young man’s chest. Kyrian shrieked, even though the weapon was not cold iron and hurt him only a little, drawing his swords and lunging at Dougal, the crazed fossergrim. His enraged blows missed the mark and Olena darted forward to protect her brother, striking with her greatsword. The fossergrim staggered back, injured, and seemed to come to himself, dropping his weapon. Kyrian scrambled in the water and retrieved it, keeping it well out of Dougal’s reach.
“No! What am I doing?!”
“Dougal, you must fight this . . . this poison in your mind!” Olena cried.
“I . . . what is happening?! There was . . . I can see into the world, and it is like . . . machinery! Like iron!”
“I had no such vision, but this attack is harming us all!”
A piercing shriek rang through the valley. Dougal turned in that direction, his eyes going distant. “There are humans here!”
"Humans? Really?” Kyrian asked.
Olena looked startled as well. “I’ve never seen one before.”
“They are close,” Dougal said. “That way! They . . . some of the little ones are near them!”
“They must be behind this!” Kyrian announced.
“You don’t know that. But you should lead the way,” Oleana told him. “Will you be all right, Dougal?”
“I do not know, but I do not wish to attack you again. Go quickly, child.”
Brother and sister crept silently into the woods.
* * *
Barak took his watch without complaint. After an hour or so he began to feel very drowsy and was tempted to wake La’ss’a early. His psionic senses shivered and he realized this was no natural drowsiness: some power was affecting him. Snapping out of it he booted Sam in the ribs, attempting to rouse the younger man, but Sam merely rolled over and began snoring again. Cursing, Barak tried the lizards and was only able to rouse Fa’ss’th.
“What . . .what’s going on? What’s that singing?”
“What singing?” Barak frowned and listened . . . now that Fa’ss’th had drawn his attention to it he could hear the music as well. It was so high-pitched as to be almost inaudible, and filled the air with a weakening of the will.
“It’s some sort of attack,” Barak whispered. They dove on their comrades with renewed vigor and managed to bring them to wakefulness. Barak shot a ray of fire into the trees, starting a small blaze that gave them light to search by. La’ss’a noticed a plant moving and dove into the bushes.
“GOTCHA!” she shouted, claws and teeth extended. There was a high, piercing scream and she was abruptly holding a tiny woman in her hand, claws piercing it. The little woman appeared to be some sort of fey, with flower petals for hair and wings. All around there was a violent rustling and the singing stopped.
Sam and Barak said in unison: “Uh oh.” Barak hurried over to La’ss’a and manifested a power to transfer the tiny fey's injuries to him. He sucked at the small cut appearing on his finger.
“Don’t let go of it yet,” he instructed.
“Ask your friends to come out and I shall let you go peacefully,” La’ss’a said.
“Squee squee squee!” the tiny fey said, its voice too high-pitched to make out. Fa’ss’th tried repeating the offer in the elven tongue.
"Squee squee ee ee squee!” Small faces peeked out of the wood, watching carefully.
Barak nudged La’ss’a. “They stopped. Let her go.” La’ss’a nodded and dropped the sqeeing fey. The tiny woman tumbled to the ground and began examining her crushed wings. Five more tiny women joined her, looking up at the adventurers nervously. “Squee?” Sam made a series of high-pitched squeaky sounds at the fey, stopped, shook his head resignedly, then grumbled low in his chest and smiled. The fey consulted each other briefly, then one rolled up a leaf to use as a bullhorn.
“Can you understand me now?” Sam nodded. “We were only trying to help. Please don’t eat us!”
“Trying to help how?” Fa’ss’th asked. “And no, we don’t eat people.”
“You look tired, we thought you would sleep well if we sang for you. That’s what we do, we sing people to sleep. You didn’t have to be mean!” There was a faint noise in the trees nearby, as though someone was trying to sneak closer.
“Is this another friend of yours coming?”
“Yes! And they’re bigger and stronger than you! So there!”
“You there! Why have you attacked us!”
“Kyrian, wait!”
“I only jumped on something that used magic on me without asking first,” La'ss'a corrected sternly.
Kyrian and Olena emerged slowly from the forest. “They’re mean!” the tiny fey cried helpfully. La’ss’a rolled her eyes. “I only nicked you and we healed you and let you go. If I were mean, I would have finished what I started.”
“You Petals should know better,” Olena said reprovingly.
“Or try harder,” Kyrian added snidely.
The Petals looked chagrined. “We’re sorry.” Then they glanced up at the adventurers like sly children. "We said we’re sorry, can we go now?”
Olena looked down at La’ss’a. “Is that good enough?” La’ss’a shooed the Petals away; they vanished. Grasping her brother’s arm, Olena forced Kyrian to sit so that she could examine his spear wound. “Are your heads buzzing?” She asked the adventurers.
“Not that I notice,” Sam replied. Barak also shook his head.
“Why do you ask?”
“Something is affecting us . . .my people. It is diminished here.”
Barak frowned, testing the air with his psionic senses. “It does feel . . . energetic . . . here. Like there’s a lot of ambient psionic power.”
“Are there a lot of fey here?” Fa’ss’th asked. Olena nodded uncertainly. “There should be a lot of ambient magic, then, but I just feel . . . psionics. It . . . it might make the fey ill, the magic sustains them.”
“Well, it HURTS!” Kyrian announced.
“Does it seem to hurt worse anywhere in particular?” Barak asked.
"It’s like a buzzing in our heads. One of our friends went mad near here, at the waterfall.”
Kyrian nodded, agreeing with his sister. “He seems all right now, but the pain was worst there.”
Sam chuckled. “Looks like we should go explore near the waterfall.”
Kyrian looked suspicious, but yielded when Olena glared at him. “This way,” he declared, striding off into the bush. He nearly walked into the side of the dire boar; it had somehow come up on them unawares. Dire animals were strange and twisted. Occasionally they evidenced abilities that seemed unnatural. Olena squeaked and pushed her brother out of the way as the boar slowly turned its enormous head to look at them, its rumbling squeal shaking the ground. Foam dripped from its mouth and its little piggy eyes gleamed redly. Olena held her hands up before the beast and knelt on the ground. It regarded her for some seconds more, then lunged towards her.
“Silvanus forgive me!” She whispered and drew her sword. She struck its shoulder but the angle was all wrong and the sword did not dig into flesh. Kyrian drew his swords in a flash and struck as well, slashing flesh and sending a mist of blood into the air. The boar shrieked and rounded on him, dodging a beam of energy from Barak’s hands.
Kyrian went flying from the boar's assault, skidding over the ground to land in a crumpled heap. La’ss’a dove over him, psionic power charging her claws as she ripped into the squealing animal, doing surprising damage for such a small lizard. Trying at least to show willing, Fa’ss’th poked experimentally with the short spear he had taken from Vist, but had little effect.
Olena grabbed her brother and hauled him out of the way while the boar struggled and failed to reach the nimble La’ss’a. Barak reached the injured half-fey and transferred the boy’s wounds to himself. The human grimaced in pain while one of Sam’s thrown soul blades found it’s mark in the Boar’s side. It staggered, blood pouring from many wounds, but amazingly remained on its feet. Snarling, Barak manifested another power and struck the beast with his fist. It shuddered one last time and stumbled to its knees, finally falling to the ground, where it lay still.
Kyrian regained consciousness and looked up at the human woozily. “What . . . what happened?”
“He just saved your life,” Olena informed him.
“Oh. Um, thanks.”
“What kind of recent events?”
“You said you monitor psionic activity, and the most recent psionic activity was a Psionic Storm sent after, I would assume, our teacher.How many people does that take, and did you at least track anyone involved?”
Athur sighed. “It’s a little more complicated than that, and I have no reason to trust you with information that may prove dangerous. I can at least tell you that we cannot detect individuals using psionics very well, only large concentrations of power, and even this is only possible because Faerun is all but barren of psionic energy.”
“Dangerous as in we would know some of the people you might be interested in following?” La’ss’a asked.
“Dangerous as in you would know the number and power of my allies, as well as the location of our base.” Sam squinted at Athur, trying to follow the logic of this.
“Do you have any local contacts? I’m not asking to visit your main stronghold, just a library or something.”
There was a long pause while Athur visibly considered the alternatives. Finally, he spoke, indecision evident in his voice. “I don’t think I can help you with what you request.” He gestured to the locked door of the observatory. “Our activities on this plane have been extremely limited because Nymbus previously did most of the monitoring himself.”
“Ah,” La’ss’a began hopefully, “Then maybe you know how we can get in with Nymbus being indisposed?”
“I do not, Nymbus always guarded his secrets carefully." He looked at the door.“It is possible I can . . .” he murmured and attempted to walk through the wall, but there was a flash of light and he was knocked sprawling to the ground. His expression was extremely chagrined. “So much for that idea. I don’t know what the lock is on the door, but even a latch is enough to prevent me from opening it. I can’t handle solid objects.”
La’ss’a sighed. “Well, thank you for the assistance you provided with Sulveig. We will take it from here.”
Athur bowed politely to the little female lizard. The students looked at each other, then at Nymbus lying on the ground. Athur eyed them askance as they picked up their mentor and attempted to use his hand to open the door. After some awkward flopping around they got him in position, but the door did not open. La’ss’a jiggled the doorknob a bit but it was quite thoroughly locked.
“I can try using a power to open it,” Barak offered.
“You know that power?” Fa’ss’th asked, startled. He cast a spell and wandered around the building, muttering.
Barak considered the door a little further, then closed his eyes and manifested his power. There was a loud clunk and the door creaked open about an inch. Athur stared in shock as the bearded human cautiously pushed on the door and entered the observatory. The transparent man attempted to follow but was rebuffed by the same shocking effect. The other students approached and peeked inside.
The interior of the observatory looked like one enormous machine. An architecture of polished brass rings, each one at least fifty feet in diameter, supported metal and crystal orbs of varying colors and sizes. Wide stained-glass windows in the domed ceiling above filled the room with a rainbow of light. The floor was a complex mosaic of interlocking tiles that seemed to spiral in towards a simple but beautifully-made desk at the center. The desk was made from a dark reddish wood and polished to a high gloss.
Barak approached the desk slowly, gaping in wonder at the silent and motionless machinery. He guessed that it was some sort of enormous calander, tracking the movements of the moon and stars. At the center of the room, he could look directly up into the heart of the engine; it was a bit dizzying in its complexity. The desk had a few semiprecious stones scattered over its surface, but was otherwise bare.
Sam, Fa’ss’th, and La’ss’a moved forward to stand around it as Barak examined the stones. They were smooth and rounded, as though they spent long years washed by a river, but otherwise unremarkable. He thought that there was some sort of pattern or organization to their placement on the desk, but could not immediately discern what it was.
Bored, Fa’ss’th began examining under the desk, discovering a single drawer. He pulled cautiously on the knob and it opened easily. Before he could poke his nose inside, something whipped out, hissing, and wrapped itself around his left arm. Meanwhile, Barak reached out and touched one of the stones. It hummed faintly and began to speak in a tinny voice that he recognized instantly as belonging to Nymbus. Startled, he stepped back and nearly knocked over Fa’ss’th, who was struggling silently with the thing on his arm. It looked like a piece of jewelry, a snake carved from ivory and inlaid with gold, but it moved as though it were alive, and it even appeared to be breathing. Its grip on the little lizard’s arm was very strong.
Two more snakes slid out of Fa’ss’th’s clothing, one an ordinary living viper, the other seemingly made from crystals. They investigated the ivory snake, touching noses with it briefly. The ivory snake flicked a dark purple tongue at them, then the three creatures lost interest in each other, Fa’ss’th’s familiar and psicrystal returning to their respective hiding places. Looking up at Barak, Fa’ss’th shrugged and ceased his vain attempts to remove the ivory snake.It didn’t seem immediately threatening.
Nymbus had continued quietly speaking throughout this exchange, in a language unknown to any of the students. Their mentor sounded peculiar: tired and sad, almost defeated.
“If we wait until morning, I could try to understand that language. I just have to study a scroll,” Fa'ss'th offered.
“I don’t mind that,” Sam said. “We’ve had a long day.”
“Good enough,” La’ss’a agreed.
The four students closed the door politely but firmly in Athur’s furious face and went to sleep on the floor of the observatory, Fa’ss’th writing furiously in his spellbook book before turning in. He was glad he’d thought to bring scribing materials with him. Barak examined the smooth stone again and managed to decipher its activation mechanism and replay the message. Content, he waited for the morning as well.
Fa’ss’th cast his newly-learned spell upon awakening and gestured for Barak to replay the message.
“My daughter . . . I never meant it to come to this. I did not understand what it meantto be young and human until too late. I hope you can forgive me some day for the pain I have caused you, but please believe me when I say it was all for good reason.
"I thought I had gone far enough to escape, but the evil lives still so I remained vigilant even though I learned I could not use you to regain my former place. I thought I could dwell here undisturbed, and watch over you so that you could do the same, but those fools crossed the waters . . . they do not know what they will awaken
there, and I am so old now--
“I have tried to train students so someone would understand what to do when the disaster came, but I was a fool and tried too hard to dominate the first group . . . in my pride I only drove them away.
“I chose poorly with the second group . . . I could not bring myself to destroy them but perhaps it had been better if I had. Now I fear it is too late. I am training a third group now, but they are so young . . . I only hope they can learn quickly enough.
“If you are listening to this, I am dead or close enough . . . you must decide what to do. You can trust these young students of mine, I think . . . they can help you
achieve whatever destiny you decide is yours now. I hope you choose well, I begin to believe that I am not capable of such a thing.”
"What did it say?" Sam asked when the message had finished playing. Fa'ss'th frowned thoughtfully.
"It's a message for his daughter, all about evil coming and the students he trained; there were three groups originally. We're the third group. He ran the first group off by being a jerk, and the second group was evil so that just leaves us."
“So, Sulveig and Athur . . .”
"Second and first groups, I bet.”
“So what do we do now?” La’ss’a demanded.
Sam shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t want to get the daughter involved, but if she already knows something about this we may have to go see her anyway. I don’t trust the other groups of students, they have their own agendas.”
“All right, so let’s hit the road,” Barak said.
“Wait, how do I get this thing off my arm?” Fa’ss’th demanded.
"Is it hurting you?”
“No.”
“Just leave it for now, then,” Barak decided. “We’ll worry about it later.”
Athur had taken Nymbus inside when the students cautiously opened the door, so they snuck into their former quarters and gathered provisions for a long journey, then left before Athur noticed them again. The small trail leading out of Nymbus’ personal valley connected, before long, into a major highway running, roughly, east and west. After a brief pause, they followed the road west.
The world seemed empty and abandoned. After a full day of walking they encountered no one and nothing on the road; when it finally began to get dark they camped in a pleasant glade in the shadow of a particularly large mountain.
* * *
Olena and Kyrian sat by the shore of a clear, placid lake, listening to their mother sing. Aviana, their mother, was a Naiad, a water-fey, and bound to this lake. Some years ago she had trysted with a human and produced two children, in appearance unlike either their mother or their father. Olena and Kyrian were short and slender in stature, with vast butterfly wings sprouting from their backs granted by their half-fey blood. They had lived all their lives in this valley with the many fey gathered there. The valley was impregnated with magical energy that shielded them from outsiders.
Aviana’s song was cut off abruptly as the Naiad cried out in pain. Olena and Kyrian felt their minds fill with a hideous subliminal buzzing . . . it seemed to rattle through their bodies, shaking loose their ties with the world. It was a painful and terrifying sensation. They watched their mother dive into the lake and vanish.
“Mother’s safer down there,” Kyrian told his sister, holding his hands over his head in a vain effort to block out the noise.
They turned to look at the ancient tree growing beside the lake, the home of another type of fey, a dryad. Animals were crawling through the underbrush towards it, gathering in a silent congregation. The crowd grew larger with every moment that passed, first smaller animals like snakes and raccoons, then deer and foxes and even a bear. Then the brush shook and the massive, hulking shape of a dire boar, larger than the largest horse and more ferocious than a maddened wolverine, joined the gathering. The two siblings drew closer together, alarmed.The animals stood as if listening, then turned to look at the two half-fey. Then the dire boar snorted, breaking the spell, and the animals vanished into the brush once more.
“Hypatia? Can you hear me?” Olena called a bit timidly. “Are you well?”
"I’d wager not,” Kyrian said.
The Dryad’s voice rattled through the valley, overpowering even the terrible buzzing for a moment. “Leave me! I need you not, half-breeds!”
“We felt a . . . disturbance . . . maybe an attack. Do you feel it too?”
“I feel it, all the Valley feels it! Oh, Dougal, it will destroy you!” Hypatia shrieked, her voice full of grief and despair.
“Dougal must be in danger!” Kyrian cried and set off towards the nearby waterfall, splashing heedlessly through a shallow creek.
"Kyrian, wait!” Olena cried, chasing after him.
Kyrian reached the base of the waterfall in a matter of minutes. A vicious purple glow, the color of bruised flesh, lit the dark sky at the very top of the falls. Before Kyrian could get a good look at it the Dougal stepped from the rushing water. His eyes stared at brother and sister, vacant with madness.
“What is this?!” Kyrian demanded.
“Dougal!” Olena cried. “What is happening to the Valley? To us?!”
Dougal’s eyes focused on Kyrian and he bent, pulling a longspear from the waters. Quicker than thought, he lunged at Kyrian, sinking the weapon into the young man’s chest. Kyrian shrieked, even though the weapon was not cold iron and hurt him only a little, drawing his swords and lunging at Dougal, the crazed fossergrim. His enraged blows missed the mark and Olena darted forward to protect her brother, striking with her greatsword. The fossergrim staggered back, injured, and seemed to come to himself, dropping his weapon. Kyrian scrambled in the water and retrieved it, keeping it well out of Dougal’s reach.
“No! What am I doing?!”
“Dougal, you must fight this . . . this poison in your mind!” Olena cried.
“I . . . what is happening?! There was . . . I can see into the world, and it is like . . . machinery! Like iron!”
“I had no such vision, but this attack is harming us all!”
A piercing shriek rang through the valley. Dougal turned in that direction, his eyes going distant. “There are humans here!”
"Humans? Really?” Kyrian asked.
Olena looked startled as well. “I’ve never seen one before.”
“They are close,” Dougal said. “That way! They . . . some of the little ones are near them!”
“They must be behind this!” Kyrian announced.
“You don’t know that. But you should lead the way,” Oleana told him. “Will you be all right, Dougal?”
“I do not know, but I do not wish to attack you again. Go quickly, child.”
Brother and sister crept silently into the woods.
* * *
Barak took his watch without complaint. After an hour or so he began to feel very drowsy and was tempted to wake La’ss’a early. His psionic senses shivered and he realized this was no natural drowsiness: some power was affecting him. Snapping out of it he booted Sam in the ribs, attempting to rouse the younger man, but Sam merely rolled over and began snoring again. Cursing, Barak tried the lizards and was only able to rouse Fa’ss’th.
“What . . .what’s going on? What’s that singing?”
“What singing?” Barak frowned and listened . . . now that Fa’ss’th had drawn his attention to it he could hear the music as well. It was so high-pitched as to be almost inaudible, and filled the air with a weakening of the will.
“It’s some sort of attack,” Barak whispered. They dove on their comrades with renewed vigor and managed to bring them to wakefulness. Barak shot a ray of fire into the trees, starting a small blaze that gave them light to search by. La’ss’a noticed a plant moving and dove into the bushes.
“GOTCHA!” she shouted, claws and teeth extended. There was a high, piercing scream and she was abruptly holding a tiny woman in her hand, claws piercing it. The little woman appeared to be some sort of fey, with flower petals for hair and wings. All around there was a violent rustling and the singing stopped.
Sam and Barak said in unison: “Uh oh.” Barak hurried over to La’ss’a and manifested a power to transfer the tiny fey's injuries to him. He sucked at the small cut appearing on his finger.
“Don’t let go of it yet,” he instructed.
“Ask your friends to come out and I shall let you go peacefully,” La’ss’a said.
“Squee squee squee!” the tiny fey said, its voice too high-pitched to make out. Fa’ss’th tried repeating the offer in the elven tongue.
"Squee squee ee ee squee!” Small faces peeked out of the wood, watching carefully.
Barak nudged La’ss’a. “They stopped. Let her go.” La’ss’a nodded and dropped the sqeeing fey. The tiny woman tumbled to the ground and began examining her crushed wings. Five more tiny women joined her, looking up at the adventurers nervously. “Squee?” Sam made a series of high-pitched squeaky sounds at the fey, stopped, shook his head resignedly, then grumbled low in his chest and smiled. The fey consulted each other briefly, then one rolled up a leaf to use as a bullhorn.
“Can you understand me now?” Sam nodded. “We were only trying to help. Please don’t eat us!”
“Trying to help how?” Fa’ss’th asked. “And no, we don’t eat people.”
“You look tired, we thought you would sleep well if we sang for you. That’s what we do, we sing people to sleep. You didn’t have to be mean!” There was a faint noise in the trees nearby, as though someone was trying to sneak closer.
“Is this another friend of yours coming?”
“Yes! And they’re bigger and stronger than you! So there!”
“You there! Why have you attacked us!”
“Kyrian, wait!”
“I only jumped on something that used magic on me without asking first,” La'ss'a corrected sternly.
Kyrian and Olena emerged slowly from the forest. “They’re mean!” the tiny fey cried helpfully. La’ss’a rolled her eyes. “I only nicked you and we healed you and let you go. If I were mean, I would have finished what I started.”
“You Petals should know better,” Olena said reprovingly.
“Or try harder,” Kyrian added snidely.
The Petals looked chagrined. “We’re sorry.” Then they glanced up at the adventurers like sly children. "We said we’re sorry, can we go now?”
Olena looked down at La’ss’a. “Is that good enough?” La’ss’a shooed the Petals away; they vanished. Grasping her brother’s arm, Olena forced Kyrian to sit so that she could examine his spear wound. “Are your heads buzzing?” She asked the adventurers.
“Not that I notice,” Sam replied. Barak also shook his head.
“Why do you ask?”
“Something is affecting us . . .my people. It is diminished here.”
Barak frowned, testing the air with his psionic senses. “It does feel . . . energetic . . . here. Like there’s a lot of ambient psionic power.”
“Are there a lot of fey here?” Fa’ss’th asked. Olena nodded uncertainly. “There should be a lot of ambient magic, then, but I just feel . . . psionics. It . . . it might make the fey ill, the magic sustains them.”
“Well, it HURTS!” Kyrian announced.
“Does it seem to hurt worse anywhere in particular?” Barak asked.
"It’s like a buzzing in our heads. One of our friends went mad near here, at the waterfall.”
Kyrian nodded, agreeing with his sister. “He seems all right now, but the pain was worst there.”
Sam chuckled. “Looks like we should go explore near the waterfall.”
Kyrian looked suspicious, but yielded when Olena glared at him. “This way,” he declared, striding off into the bush. He nearly walked into the side of the dire boar; it had somehow come up on them unawares. Dire animals were strange and twisted. Occasionally they evidenced abilities that seemed unnatural. Olena squeaked and pushed her brother out of the way as the boar slowly turned its enormous head to look at them, its rumbling squeal shaking the ground. Foam dripped from its mouth and its little piggy eyes gleamed redly. Olena held her hands up before the beast and knelt on the ground. It regarded her for some seconds more, then lunged towards her.
“Silvanus forgive me!” She whispered and drew her sword. She struck its shoulder but the angle was all wrong and the sword did not dig into flesh. Kyrian drew his swords in a flash and struck as well, slashing flesh and sending a mist of blood into the air. The boar shrieked and rounded on him, dodging a beam of energy from Barak’s hands.
Kyrian went flying from the boar's assault, skidding over the ground to land in a crumpled heap. La’ss’a dove over him, psionic power charging her claws as she ripped into the squealing animal, doing surprising damage for such a small lizard. Trying at least to show willing, Fa’ss’th poked experimentally with the short spear he had taken from Vist, but had little effect.
Olena grabbed her brother and hauled him out of the way while the boar struggled and failed to reach the nimble La’ss’a. Barak reached the injured half-fey and transferred the boy’s wounds to himself. The human grimaced in pain while one of Sam’s thrown soul blades found it’s mark in the Boar’s side. It staggered, blood pouring from many wounds, but amazingly remained on its feet. Snarling, Barak manifested another power and struck the beast with his fist. It shuddered one last time and stumbled to its knees, finally falling to the ground, where it lay still.
Kyrian regained consciousness and looked up at the human woozily. “What . . . what happened?”
“He just saved your life,” Olena informed him.
“Oh. Um, thanks.”
Aug 20, 2007
Psionics Game: 1st Session
The workroom looked strange cleared of its usual paraphernalia: the psychoactive crystals, the vials of ectoplasm and ferroplasm and quicksilver caught in a matrix of glass hard as iron. In place of the working machinery of psionic power there was instead a small mountain of traveling gear.
Nymbus stood on the far side of the table from his students, regarding them through his wispy white eyebrows. He looked ancient for a human, but healthy and strong if not robust. His hair had long since gone white with age, but his skin retained a darker, faintly reddish hue, and his eyes were brilliant black beads that revealed nothing.
His students eyed each other a little warily. Although they had spent the past six months living in the school, they had different schedules and studied different subjects, so they had not spent a great deal of time together. It didn’t help that they were different species, either . . . La’ss’a and Fa’ss’th were barely waist-high on the humans, and they were, well, lizards. Scaly skin, pointy teeth, claws, tails, the whole bit. They glanced at each other with large yellow eyes and then smiled disarmingly at Barak and Sam.
Next to the coordinated lizards, the human men looked a bit mis-matched. Sam was tall enough, but there was no extra meat on his lanky body anywhere, and his hair was a bright cheerful blond that didn’t match his cold-eyed expression. Barak was more solid, with trim brown hair and beard that matched his sober brown clothing.
“My students,” Nymbus finally spoke, “You have come a long way since you arrived in my little valley. I would like you to journey outside with me now, and assist me with my researches . . . toward this end, I have assembled gear for you all. Prepare yourselves, and meet me outside in half an hour.” He smiled at them, more absently then benevolently, then left them to their own company.
Fa’ss’th stepped forward and immediately began sorting through the piles of gear, pocketing a few magical scrolls as he did so. He didn’t feel particularly guilty: no one else was studying magic to bolster their psionic power, so it wasn’t like they could use the scrolls in any case. “Can you big fellows take some of this heavy stuff?”
Sam examined the pile. “I’ll take the sneaky stuff if you lizards do the cooking,” he offered, handing La’ss’a a pot as big as her head.
“You may have to explain human cuisine to me, but I’ll try.”
“Cook the meat, THEN serve,” Barak replied urgently. Eventually, all the gear was stowed away.
Nymbus led the group deep into the Small Teeth, to a tiny valley hidden between great granite walls. It was a pleasant place, with small trickling streams and wide pools: plants grew thick and short there, protected from the weather by the surrounding stone, but also hidden from life-giving sunlight for much of the day.
“Be wary of the left-hand fork of this valley,” Nymbus remarked as they walked. “A great carnivorous lizard dwells there. It is no threat to me, but you may find it troublesome if you disturb it.”
At the end of the valley was a narrow hole drilled directly into the rock: barely three feet in diameter, it appeared to run eighty feet or more straight through solid granite. Nymbus bent easily and shimmied through the hole, followed rapidly by the lizards who hardly had to bow their heads, but Barak and Sam had difficulty, laboring to transport the majority of the gear through the tunnel.
At the far end was a tiny grotto, a lava bubble once, perhaps, that had cracked open admitting light and rainwater. A tiny pool gathered beneath the crack in the stone, reflecting the brilliant crystal that grew from its center. The crystal was immense, tall as a human and twice as broad, but it appeared fragile. Nymbus waited a moment for them to rest after their exertions, then motioned for them to approach the crystal.
Then the light overhead was abruptly cut off and a rumble of thunder shook the grotto. Nymbus stared up into the crack and muttered under his breath, then turned and cast his arm in a sweep over his students. A wall of viscous liquid sprang up around them just as a bolt of light, or lightning, zagged impossibly between the rocks, striking the crystal and setting it ablaze. Then it exploded.
The cacophony was terrible, a discordant tone that seemed liable to shake the world apart, and a terrible light seemed to follow in its wake. It was some time before the students could see and hear again, and then they wondered whether it was worth it. The grotto was peppered with tiny shards of crystal; sharp pieces that jabbed even booted feet. Nymbus lay unhurt on the grassy earth, but he was unconscious, eyes open and staring.
Barak swept crystal shards away and bent to examine their teacher while the others explored the grotto. Sam, examining the tunnel mouth, heard strange coarse voices echoing in the passageway outside. He waved to the other students and scrambled down the tunnel, taking refuge in some rocks on the other side just as the speakers appeared. They were orcs, four of them, brutish humanoids that infested the mountains with their other uncivilized kin. Sam spoke their tongue well enough and listened while they argued over who should enter the tunnel. Finally one was chosen and began forcing his wide frame through the confining rock.
Sam concentrated and a black radiance formed in his fingers, coalescing into a blade. He fed his will into it and it began to hum faintly; creeping closer to the orcs, he drove the ethereal blade into the creature’s back. It screeched in pain and he struck it again, leaving its corpse to topple to the ground. An orc drew sword and charged him: he dodged the slow, clumsy metal blade and cut it nearly in half with a flash of the psychic knife. The other fled.
In the tunnel, La’ss’a confronted the crawling orc. Her eyes widened as it reached out a hand and formed a blade of will and spirit . . . she had never seen anyone but Sam perform this trick. She stepped back, hardly having to dodge the clumsy blow, and punched the orc ferociously in the nose with one little fist, snapping its head back. It struggled, finding that it could not turn around and could not back up, until Sam’s blade penetrated its spine and left it dead as well.
“How is he?” Fa’ss’th asked Barak in concern. They stood looking over Nymbus while the sounds of fighting echoed weirdly down the tunnel.”
“Not good, he’s alive, but his mind . . .”
“Can we move him? Humans are so heavy.”
Barak frowned in concentration for a moment and then pulled on Nymbus feet . . . his body slid effortlessly over the ground, as though he lay on greased ice. “This will serve for a short time.”
“Good enough,” the lizard wizard grinned, scampering down the tunnel after La’ss’a. He examined the orcs at the end of the passageway.
“That one summoned a soul blade,” the female lizard remarked casually. Fa’ss’th blinked at her.
“Really? I thought we were, well, unique! It seems odd that we’d run into them now. They’re probably here to collect whatever was left after that ‘storm’.”
“Agreed. If you can manage Nymbus with Barak, I will go scout ahead.”
“They probably have friends,” Sam added. “I doubt they caused that storm all by themselves.”
“Together, then?” La’ss’a asked, and when Sam nodded she set off silently along the valley, moving slowly and staying out of sight. Just around the first bend they discovered a large group of orcs, speaking in low tones with some small creature concealed in their midst. When the orcs shifted position, it was revealed as a goblin with oddly blue skin. He gestured with a spear at one orc, bigger than the rest and garbed in heavy chainmail. The axe slung over the orc’s back looked like it could fell a tree in one blow.
“Thoughts?” Sam asked quietly.
“If we had all four of us, we might be able to take them . . . except for the big guy. We . . . could try luring Nymbus’ big lizard down here, it’s just up that path there.”
“I like it. Who gets to act as bait.”
“Fa’ss’th, of course, he’s beaten me in too many footraces.”
The lizard wizard grumped a bit at being volunteered, but he climbed over the rocks until he could look down into the other side of the valley. There was, indeed, a large beast of some sort sleeping in the sun. Without stopping to think about it too much, Fa’ss’th threw a beam of energy its way. It woke with an outraged snort.
“AAAAAAAGH!” Fa’ss’th screamed and took off running, his magic granting him additional speed. It was a good thing, too, as the lizard was preternaturally fast, running on its long hind legs with great scimitar-like dewclaws on each foot. It followed him directly into the mass of orcs, which scattered at the onslaught. The big orc buried his axe in the monster’s neck and it was all over from there bar the screaming. Within moments, the only creatures remaining alive were the lizard, studded with javelins and bleeding from many sword wounds, and an orc that had fled back towards the stone tunnel.
Barak pointed a hand at the lizard and loosed a beam of red light full into its face. With a last gurgle it collapsed and lay still, smoking. Sam chased after the fleeing orc. He rounded the bend just as it slipped back down the stone wall, falling in a pathetic heap at his feet.
“No kill! No kill!” it gabbled in barely-coherent Common.
“Fine, then talk! Why were you here?!”
“Me talk! Big man send! Big man send look hu-man!”
“I speak Orc you cretin,” Sam growled, switching tongues. “What big man? What human?”
“I don’t know! Vist paid us to come along.”
“Who was Vist?”
“Little blue goblin. He’s a wizard or something.”
“So all you know is that the blue goblin paid you to come out here? Nothing else, like what you were going to do or what you were looking for?”
“My tribe allied with Sythillis, he has a human mage or something that brought a bunch of weird goblins and orcs with him to Murann. That’s where the goblin came from.” Sam tapped his blade against his leg slowly and the orc blanched.
“See, that’s better.”
“I don’t know any more than that. We were supposed to take the old human to Sythillis in Murann.”
“Who is Sythillis?”
The orc laughed contemptuously. “If you don’t know of Sythillis then you will die quickly, human. He’s a great Ogre mage! He rules the once-human city of Murann now! Soon he will rule Athkatla as well!”
“You picked the wrong time to gloat,” Sam declared, slashing upwards with the blade. The orc stumbled back, barely avoiding it, and then launched himself at Sam in an attempt to grapple. Sam lashed out with the blade again and the orc fell gurgling. Returning to the group, Sam recounted what he had learned. Barak shook his head.
“We need to get Nymbus home.”
“Or at least someplace safe,” Fa’ss’th muttered.
The journey to the school was not difficult, but upon arriving the students had yet another nasty shock: a man was standing in front of the doors to the observatory, apparently trying to get in. Sam and La’ss’a exchanged glances, then fanned out and approached in silence. Sam attempted to adopt a friendly look without great success.
“Can I help you with something?”
For a moment, the man did not respond, then he sneered, “Do you know how to open this door?”
“Of course I know how to open the door.”
The man looked shocked. “You do?!”
“Of course.”
“How? Are you a student here?”
“It’s quite simple, really, all you have to do is talk to THE MAN WHO OWNS IT!!”
The man did not appear alarmed. “I can do better than that, friend,” he said, his eyes taking on a distant cast. La’ss’a dove forward and felt the terrible pressure of some power fly through her . . . she shook it off and looked at Sam. The human’s mouth worked for a second without sound, then he turned and looked at the female lizard.
“I think you should get out of this guy’s way, huh?” Sam’s expression told of some terrible struggle going on beneath.
“What?” She asked, dumbfounded. She snarled at the stranger and held up clawed hands, preparing to fight.
A bright flash illuminated the school grounds for a moment, followed by a scouring blast of wind that came close to knocking everyone from their feet. A man coalesced out of the wind, speaking angrily, “What is the meaning of this?!” He was tall and lean, with long red hair full of gray threads, and wore a heavy, ornate robe. He was also slightly transparent, and his feet did not disturb the grass where he stood.
Sam felt the mental bonds holding him loosen and summoned a soul blade, but the new arrival forestalled him. “Strike any blow before I have my answers and you will not live to regret it.”
“These . . . persons attacked me without cause!” The others stranger spoke, his voice filled with rage. He was, if anything, even taller than the transparent man, with long black hair and golden skin that sparkled faintly in the sunlight.
“And you are?”
“I am Sulveig, a former student at this school. I came to visit, only to discover the place abandoned and the master nowhere to be found. Then these ruffians appeared!”
Sam began to utter an angry retort but La’ss’a held up a cautionary paw. The transparent man looked down at the lizard monk. “And what is your story?”
“Thsss, I would know your name and your purpose before I explain further.”
The transparent man frowned, but then nodded respectfully. “I am Athur Arronnan, although I doubt you have heard of me. I belong to a group that monitors psionic activity in Faerun. Normally we avoid this place; the master of this school is known to us and we have no direct quarrel with him. In the past few days, however, there has been a suspicious increase in activity, so I came to reconnoiter.”
La’ss’a looked up at Sam, who shrugged.
“We are Nymbus’ current students. We were helping him with his researches in a location a few days’ travel from here when he was struck with some unknown malady. We returned to find this individual here, and when we accosted him he used some sort of power on us.”
“Bah! How do you know they didn’t just dispose of Nymbus themselves?”
“Be silent, Sulveig or whatever your name is.” Athur crouched to look the lizard in the eye. “Did you bring Nymbus back with you?”
“Ahh . . . yes, he is nearby, with one of the other students.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Four, total.”
“Very well, fetch Nymbus and your friends, if you will, and I will take a look at him.”
In short order Nymbus’ stretcher was laid on the ground before the observatory, with Sam, Barak, La’ss’a and Fa’ss’th all gathered around him. Athur examined the old psion while Sulveig made a show of impatience in the background.
“He is not hurt, but his mind has gone beyond our reach. I do not know if he will ever recover,” Athur said finally. “What happened to cause this?”
The four students looked at each other. Finally Barak volunteered, “Nymbus took us to a site in the mountains where a great crystal was growing. Lightning struck the crystal and it exploded . . . there was some sort of power backlash. Nymbus shielded us from it, that’s why we’re still here.”
Athur snorted. “I can only guess that he assumed it would not harm him.”
“You believe this ‘story’? From the look of them I’d say they attempted to do away with him! I’ve tolerated this nonsense long enough! I demand that Nymbus be turned over to me for protection, as his former student I’m . . .”
“You demand?!” Athur snarled. “Nymbus has many former students . . . I am one of them! I am quite capable of ascertaining the truth for myself, and I detect no lie in these young people.”
Sulveig stepped close to Athur, waggling his finger under the Uncarnate’s nose. “You would do well not to try my temper, old man.”
Athur swept his arm out in a backhanded blow, sending Sulveig sprawling across the grass. “You are a joke,” he said. “Be glad I suffer you to leave with your life . . . provided you leave now.”
Sam took a step forward. “Well, I’m not suffering it!”
“No!” Athur ordered. “I will not have you fighting over the scene of this tragedy.” Sulveig heaved himself to his feet and stormed away.
“You’re just going to let him go?! He . . .” Sam began again.
“Is a cretin, I know. And he wants something, that much is obvious. You are a young man, with a young man’s conviction that the thing immediately in front of him is of greatest importance. In time you will come to understand that one weasel is not so important in the grand scheme of things.” He sighed. “Now then, I can care for Nymbus while he is incapacitated and guard the valley well enough, I think, but I do not have the right to make dispositions regarding his welfare. That should rightly devolve to his heir.”
“What heir?” Fa’ss’th asked.
“I doubt any of you know this, as they have been estranged for some time, but Nymbus has a daughter. She lives not too far from here, I believe, a hundred miles to the west or thereabouts. I have not visited her myself, so I do not know the exact location.” Athur considered for a moment. “I do not think it wise to allow you to remain here while Nymbus is indisposed. You are in a position to be of assistance to me, should you desire. You can take a message to Nymbus daughter . . . Demaris, I think her name is. Tell her what has occurred and we should be able to resolve these unfortunate events soonest. I would happily reward you for your trouble.”
“You’re throwing us out?” La’ss’a wailed. “Can we at least re-provision for the trip?”
“I do not think Nymbus would begrudge you some rations and waterskins, whatever you decide to do.”
Aug 15, 2007
Rush Hour 3
The fate of this franchise kind of reminds me of what happened with the Austin Powers series. The first one was cute and funny and made a lot of money, so they decided to make another one, then another one, but unfortunately they realized that there just wasn't that much new territory to explore with their concept, so the later movies wound up being more than a bit lame.
Even the *jokes* in Rush Hour 3 were trite. Jackie Chan was his usual bouncing-all-over-the-scenery self, only older, but the *acting* was non-existant.
Instead of seeing Rush Hour 3, I recommend hitting Blockbuster or Netflix and watching the first one again. You won't miss anything, and you might actually laugh.
Even the *jokes* in Rush Hour 3 were trite. Jackie Chan was his usual bouncing-all-over-the-scenery self, only older, but the *acting* was non-existant.
Instead of seeing Rush Hour 3, I recommend hitting Blockbuster or Netflix and watching the first one again. You won't miss anything, and you might actually laugh.
Stardust
If you read Acid-Free Paper you may be aware that Toiler and I both enjoyed Neil Gaiman's novel, Stardust. You may also know that the novel was made into a movie, and it came out in theaters this past weekend.
Well, I went to see it, and I was not disappointed at all, which is unusual indeed for me. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a great movie, but then it wasn't a great novel, either, just a fun adventure.
There were a couple of tough points in the movie, though: it is *very* rough getting started. So, if you go see it, don't get frustrated and walk out in the first 15 minutes or so, it gets better. I have no idea why they even had the scene at the Royal Observatory, it has no bearing on the rest of the movie at all.
The movie also departs significantly from the events in the book, but I think it made for a better movie. A lot of novel elements are difficult indeed to convey in a movie (they didn't convey just how bizarrely different the world beyond Wall was, for instance, making some elements of the adventure seem a little prosaic). The ending of the book, particularly, would have seemed confusing and anti-climactic in a movie, so I'm glad they exchanged it for a slightly more conventional happy ending.
So, it was an enjoyable fantasy romp and I recommend it, provided you're into that sort of thing.
Well, I went to see it, and I was not disappointed at all, which is unusual indeed for me. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a great movie, but then it wasn't a great novel, either, just a fun adventure.
There were a couple of tough points in the movie, though: it is *very* rough getting started. So, if you go see it, don't get frustrated and walk out in the first 15 minutes or so, it gets better. I have no idea why they even had the scene at the Royal Observatory, it has no bearing on the rest of the movie at all.
The movie also departs significantly from the events in the book, but I think it made for a better movie. A lot of novel elements are difficult indeed to convey in a movie (they didn't convey just how bizarrely different the world beyond Wall was, for instance, making some elements of the adventure seem a little prosaic). The ending of the book, particularly, would have seemed confusing and anti-climactic in a movie, so I'm glad they exchanged it for a slightly more conventional happy ending.
So, it was an enjoyable fantasy romp and I recommend it, provided you're into that sort of thing.
Aug 8, 2007
Reports of My Demise Exaggerated
No, no, I'm not dead, I've just been busy and I haven't had much to blog about. Part of this is that I finally cleared my backlog, part is that I got two books in a row that were so bad they weren't worth finishing (two in a row! sheesh!), and part is that I'm preparing to run a game for some of my friends, so I've been working on that.
I'm really excited about running a game again, and I've put quite a bit of thought into this one so I think it will go well. I will be blogging our sessions as we go, so that should be fun for anyone who actually *reads* the fiction I post here. I will try to find something interesting to blog about, too!
I'm really excited about running a game again, and I've put quite a bit of thought into this one so I think it will go well. I will be blogging our sessions as we go, so that should be fun for anyone who actually *reads* the fiction I post here. I will try to find something interesting to blog about, too!
Jul 30, 2007
Government vs. Diabetics
I was a little too busy to blog earlier today, but I just had to say something about this particular piece of stupidity. The article is a bit long, but notice the careful dance of how the numbers are reported.
The first two numbers have no bearing on any data whatsoever: they are votes by government panelists about whether the data (data we have not seen yet) are "convincing". Then we have a theoretical, large number, 2,200, which could be the number of people subjected to "serious side effects" from use of Avandia. What constitutes "serious" in this case? No answer is given.
Next number? An even larger approxmation of the number of people in the U.S. that use Avandia: 1 million. Oh the horror. They must be dropping like flies. (Would someone tell me why the graphic says that there are 3 million prescriptions if only 1 million people actually use the drug?)
Next number? A bunch of studies that report on the next number, which seems huge: a 43% increase in risk of heart failure. But hang on a second, that's a relative number . . . if the percentage chance of heart failure was only 1% before, that means that your risk of heart failure on Avandia is only *gasp* 1.43% now. Oh no!
It's not until the last couple of paragraphs (if anyone could tolerate wading that deep into this overly-long and verbose article) that we have some hard actual numbers. 4100 new cases of diabetes a day. 810 deaths, 60% of those are from heart failure. Is this the before-Avandia or after-Avandia heart failure rate? (Diabetics are already more likely to experience heart failure than other people.) Since these are new, untreated cases, we can probably assume that this is the before-Avandia rate.
Okay, let's do some math here. 810 deaths divided by 4100 cases = .19 and some change: 19%. But hang on, we have a problem here . . . are these deaths within the total population of diabetes cases or deaths within the population of new diabetes cases?! THE ARTICLE DOES NOT MAKE THIS EXPLICIT. Let's assume that, every day, 810 people die from diabetes, period. Note that the article doesn't give an estimate for total diabetes cases in the U.S., either. Hmm. We can't use their graphic for an approximation, because we have that weird 1/3 ratio thing going with drug takers vs. prescriptions.
Lucky for me I know how to use Google, so I found this little number here. And we have some more numbers:
Let's do more math! 69,301 deaths divided by 365 is . . . 189 and some change. Where the heck did this 810 number come from?! Even if you take all the deaths in which diabetes is simply listed as a contributory factor, that's still only (213,062 divided by 365) 583 and some change. Granted, these were the numbers for 2000, and the CDC documentation says that diabetes is probably underreported as a cause or contributory cause of death. Okay. Let's assume that 810 deaths a day, out of a population of 18.2 million diabetes sufferers, is correct.
So, back to our earlier math: 810 divided by 18.2 million . . . no, wait, let's be fair. Let's do chance of death per year, and use the most generous number we have. So 213,062 divided by 18.2 million is: .01 and some change. That looks a lot like 1% to me . . . and remember that only 60% of that 1% is due to heart failure.
Result: my intial estimate of your increased risk of heart failure (1.43% vs 1%), which seemed AMAZINGLY LOW, was actually TOO HIGH.
And for this the government panelists are considering banning a drug that helps one million people control their diabetes?!
The first two numbers have no bearing on any data whatsoever: they are votes by government panelists about whether the data (data we have not seen yet) are "convincing". Then we have a theoretical, large number, 2,200, which could be the number of people subjected to "serious side effects" from use of Avandia. What constitutes "serious" in this case? No answer is given.
Next number? An even larger approxmation of the number of people in the U.S. that use Avandia: 1 million. Oh the horror. They must be dropping like flies. (Would someone tell me why the graphic says that there are 3 million prescriptions if only 1 million people actually use the drug?)
Next number? A bunch of studies that report on the next number, which seems huge: a 43% increase in risk of heart failure. But hang on a second, that's a relative number . . . if the percentage chance of heart failure was only 1% before, that means that your risk of heart failure on Avandia is only *gasp* 1.43% now. Oh no!
It's not until the last couple of paragraphs (if anyone could tolerate wading that deep into this overly-long and verbose article) that we have some hard actual numbers. 4100 new cases of diabetes a day. 810 deaths, 60% of those are from heart failure. Is this the before-Avandia or after-Avandia heart failure rate? (Diabetics are already more likely to experience heart failure than other people.) Since these are new, untreated cases, we can probably assume that this is the before-Avandia rate.
Okay, let's do some math here. 810 deaths divided by 4100 cases = .19 and some change: 19%. But hang on, we have a problem here . . . are these deaths within the total population of diabetes cases or deaths within the population of new diabetes cases?! THE ARTICLE DOES NOT MAKE THIS EXPLICIT. Let's assume that, every day, 810 people die from diabetes, period. Note that the article doesn't give an estimate for total diabetes cases in the U.S., either. Hmm. We can't use their graphic for an approximation, because we have that weird 1/3 ratio thing going with drug takers vs. prescriptions.
Lucky for me I know how to use Google, so I found this little number here. And we have some more numbers:
Diabetes was the sixth leading cause of death listed on U.S. death certificates in 2000. This ranking is based on the 69,301 death certificates in which diabetes was listed as the underlying cause of death. Altogether, diabetes contributed to 213,062 deaths.
Let's do more math! 69,301 deaths divided by 365 is . . . 189 and some change. Where the heck did this 810 number come from?! Even if you take all the deaths in which diabetes is simply listed as a contributory factor, that's still only (213,062 divided by 365) 583 and some change. Granted, these were the numbers for 2000, and the CDC documentation says that diabetes is probably underreported as a cause or contributory cause of death. Okay. Let's assume that 810 deaths a day, out of a population of 18.2 million diabetes sufferers, is correct.
So, back to our earlier math: 810 divided by 18.2 million . . . no, wait, let's be fair. Let's do chance of death per year, and use the most generous number we have. So 213,062 divided by 18.2 million is: .01 and some change. That looks a lot like 1% to me . . . and remember that only 60% of that 1% is due to heart failure.
Result: my intial estimate of your increased risk of heart failure (1.43% vs 1%), which seemed AMAZINGLY LOW, was actually TOO HIGH.
And for this the government panelists are considering banning a drug that helps one million people control their diabetes?!
Jul 26, 2007
Rhapsody
Just to clarify: the title of this post is the first book in a trilogy. I linked to a boxed set for the trilogy. I've only read the first two books in the trilogy.
I'm not really sure whether I have any interest in reading further: the bookstore that is actually near my house doesn't have the third book by itself and my overall impression of the two preceding novels is that they are really, incredibly . . . girly.
You heard me: girly.
Now I appreciate that this is not actually a bad quality if you are, in fact, a girl. And Elizabeth Haydon appears to be a pretty good writer in a more general sense: the books are interesting and once I started I read them all the way through without getting bored or fed up. But CRIMINY woman your CHARACTERS ARE SO CLICHED. Could your heroine be any more like the stereotypical good girl from any given fairy tale? Can we stop with the loving children and forest animals thing? Please?
Ms. Haydon left me with a truly mixed perception of her novels on pretty much all levels. Okay, we have the stereotypical characters. But she appears to realize this fact and does some interesting things to correct it, like having other characters complain that the heroine is acting in a stereotypically "female" manner. It's almost like she wrote the book, realized it was terribly hacky, and then went back and fixed all the worst moments . . . almost, in fact, like a case study in what happens when a Naturalist writes using archetypical characters. I don't quite know how to describe it, because I don't think I've encountered quite this same phenomenon before.
The plot is certainly surreal enough on its own. The first novel starts out with an assassin and a giant that is also a military sergeant (there is never any explanation given for why these two are hanging around together, it's just one of those weird fantasy crossover things) escaping from the Evil Force of Doom (something like that). They meet: a bard. She's an ex-prostitute on the run from an obsessed client, btw. It's like Pick Your Former Profession Out of a Hat characterization or something. So, due to a fundamentally bizarre coincidence, the assassin and giant duo kidnap said cute bardic female ex prostitute.
They end up climbing down the roots of the World Tree for LITERALLY CENTURIES and emerging in a new land, which is good because they old land they left has been destroyed while they were doing their Journey to the Center of the Earth thing. How does this make any sense?! I think it Seemed Like A Good Idea at the Time. They find a Really Cool Magic Bard Sword. Oh, and by the way it's really nice that here they are in the Future now because it turns out the reason that our bard nee prostitute Rhapsody (the title character of the first book, go figure), was actually in love with this guy that travelled back in time from the New Land and just incidentally claimed her virtue and then vanished, leaving her bereft. Hence why she descended into a life of sin.
Help me. I tell you, the really surprising thing about these books is the fact that they're actually readable.
Rating: 2.5
I'm not really sure whether I have any interest in reading further: the bookstore that is actually near my house doesn't have the third book by itself and my overall impression of the two preceding novels is that they are really, incredibly . . . girly.
You heard me: girly.
Now I appreciate that this is not actually a bad quality if you are, in fact, a girl. And Elizabeth Haydon appears to be a pretty good writer in a more general sense: the books are interesting and once I started I read them all the way through without getting bored or fed up. But CRIMINY woman your CHARACTERS ARE SO CLICHED. Could your heroine be any more like the stereotypical good girl from any given fairy tale? Can we stop with the loving children and forest animals thing? Please?
Ms. Haydon left me with a truly mixed perception of her novels on pretty much all levels. Okay, we have the stereotypical characters. But she appears to realize this fact and does some interesting things to correct it, like having other characters complain that the heroine is acting in a stereotypically "female" manner. It's almost like she wrote the book, realized it was terribly hacky, and then went back and fixed all the worst moments . . . almost, in fact, like a case study in what happens when a Naturalist writes using archetypical characters. I don't quite know how to describe it, because I don't think I've encountered quite this same phenomenon before.
The plot is certainly surreal enough on its own. The first novel starts out with an assassin and a giant that is also a military sergeant (there is never any explanation given for why these two are hanging around together, it's just one of those weird fantasy crossover things) escaping from the Evil Force of Doom (something like that). They meet: a bard. She's an ex-prostitute on the run from an obsessed client, btw. It's like Pick Your Former Profession Out of a Hat characterization or something. So, due to a fundamentally bizarre coincidence, the assassin and giant duo kidnap said cute bardic female ex prostitute.
They end up climbing down the roots of the World Tree for LITERALLY CENTURIES and emerging in a new land, which is good because they old land they left has been destroyed while they were doing their Journey to the Center of the Earth thing. How does this make any sense?! I think it Seemed Like A Good Idea at the Time. They find a Really Cool Magic Bard Sword. Oh, and by the way it's really nice that here they are in the Future now because it turns out the reason that our bard nee prostitute Rhapsody (the title character of the first book, go figure), was actually in love with this guy that travelled back in time from the New Land and just incidentally claimed her virtue and then vanished, leaving her bereft. Hence why she descended into a life of sin.
Help me. I tell you, the really surprising thing about these books is the fact that they're actually readable.
Rating: 2.5
It's Official, I'm a Webcomic Junkie
These things are just too much fun. Here are some more:
Sheldon: http://sheldoncomics.com/
Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic: http://yafgc.shipsinker.com/
Full Frontal Nerdity (Which also is a link to Nodwick): http://archive.gamespy.com/comics/nodwick/ffn/ffn.htm
Exiern: http://www.exiern.com/
This one is a little odd, it seems like they picked up a new artist relatively recently. I didn't dig through the site enough to find out, but the comic is funny even if the art varies dramatically.
Sheldon: http://sheldoncomics.com/
Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic: http://yafgc.shipsinker.com/
Full Frontal Nerdity (Which also is a link to Nodwick): http://archive.gamespy.com/comics/nodwick/ffn/ffn.htm
Exiern: http://www.exiern.com/
This one is a little odd, it seems like they picked up a new artist relatively recently. I didn't dig through the site enough to find out, but the comic is funny even if the art varies dramatically.
Jul 25, 2007
Feature Changeup
I switched the display for my blog archive to a drop-down list because I don't like it when the sidebar is longer than the displayed posts. It just offends me esthetically for some unknown reason. It looks unbalanced when the skinny part is longer than the fat part. Anyway. I also don't like displaying a week's worth of posts all at once, so I thought I'd give the drop-down box a try. It looks all right to me thus far.
A Nameless Witch
This is the first book I've read by A. Lee Martinez, so I couldn't tell if some of the content of the book was intended to be referential. In any case, I don't think it matters too much.
This moderately humorous novel is about a young woman, cursed to be one of the undead since birth, who is taken from her family by a horrible old witch. Given, since her family was keeping her prisoner in the basement, this is actually an improvement. The witch wants to train the young lady as her successor, but the older woman is dissapointed because her acquisition is far too pretty to be a witch. It seems the young lady is cursed to be one of those undead that lures men into bed with irresistable visions of carnality and then devours them.
Then the witch is killed rather horribly. The rest of the novel is the young undead witch's journey to Find Herself, which the author does acknowledge is a fantasy cliche so it's not as bad as it might have been. She encounters humans, likes them, and finds she also has an unfortunate desire to eat them. This isn't so bad until she meets the White Knight and discovers herself nearly paralyzed by her conflicting desires.
I think the novel is meant to be quite funny, unfortunately I found most of the humorous elements fell flat. Note to authors: just because something is egregiously weird does not, in and of itself, make it funny. A duck that is inhabited by a bloodthirsty demon is not inherently amusing. There has to be another aspect to the joke. This may be an application of Scott Adams' "two of six" rule.
The story is cute and enjoyable, and has a simple theme: an imperfect reality is better than a perfect illusion. The frequent references to cannibalism are a little stomach-turning, though, and kills the romantic fantasy just a wee bit. Overall I give it a thumbs-up.
Rating: 3.0
This moderately humorous novel is about a young woman, cursed to be one of the undead since birth, who is taken from her family by a horrible old witch. Given, since her family was keeping her prisoner in the basement, this is actually an improvement. The witch wants to train the young lady as her successor, but the older woman is dissapointed because her acquisition is far too pretty to be a witch. It seems the young lady is cursed to be one of those undead that lures men into bed with irresistable visions of carnality and then devours them.
Then the witch is killed rather horribly. The rest of the novel is the young undead witch's journey to Find Herself, which the author does acknowledge is a fantasy cliche so it's not as bad as it might have been. She encounters humans, likes them, and finds she also has an unfortunate desire to eat them. This isn't so bad until she meets the White Knight and discovers herself nearly paralyzed by her conflicting desires.
I think the novel is meant to be quite funny, unfortunately I found most of the humorous elements fell flat. Note to authors: just because something is egregiously weird does not, in and of itself, make it funny. A duck that is inhabited by a bloodthirsty demon is not inherently amusing. There has to be another aspect to the joke. This may be an application of Scott Adams' "two of six" rule.
The story is cute and enjoyable, and has a simple theme: an imperfect reality is better than a perfect illusion. The frequent references to cannibalism are a little stomach-turning, though, and kills the romantic fantasy just a wee bit. Overall I give it a thumbs-up.
Rating: 3.0
New Feature, Maybe?
I've been thinking about adding a new feature to this blog because I don't spend a lot of time on my favorite authors: some of them are dead or produce new books once in a blue moon, and I feel goofy reviewing books that have been on my shelf for months if not years. That, and in reviewing a specific book I don't always get to talk about my favorite aspects of their writing.
So, anyway, this new feature would be called "Authors I Have Read" and be a general discussion of the author rather than any specific book. I'm hoping it doesn't seem too much like a rehash, but I will start doing these entries shortly.
So, anyway, this new feature would be called "Authors I Have Read" and be a general discussion of the author rather than any specific book. I'm hoping it doesn't seem too much like a rehash, but I will start doing these entries shortly.
Jul 24, 2007
Thank You, J.K. Rowling
I know that a great many people have a great many things to say on this subject, and I have a personal dislike for doing what everyone else is doing. That's part of the reason my Objectivist blog is full of reviews of books that probably no other Objectivist on the face of the Earth has or ever will read. However, sometimes a matter is important enough that I have to say something, regardless.
What I have to say is this: Thank you, J.K. Rowling. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I don't know how many people out there really appreciate what a titanic feat it is to create your own fantasy realm and write seven books--nearly four thousand pages--of complex interwoven plot. It is hard enough to write a single good plot long enough to fill a short story. Many, many fantasy series authors write themselves into limbo, and those are some of the best authors in the genre! People that tell compelling stories of massive scope! Yet what happens to them? They forget where they were going, if they ever knew, and their great work shrivels and dies in infancy.
I've heard a lot of criticism of Rowling as well: her style is "childish" her characterizations are "simplistic", her themes are "altruistic". Whatever. Where Rowling really shines is in the creation and development of plot. I managed to predict ahead of time many of the developments in the final book of the series. Far from a condemnation, this is actually praise for Rowling's plot-writing abilities.
If a plot is logical, you should be able to figure out where it is going. The surprise should come from the specific steps the author takes to lead you there. This makes the conclusion of a novel both satisfying, in that it confirms your expectations for how the world is organized, and startling, in that you hadn't seen the world through quite that lens before. This is also Rowling's genius.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows ties up her plot so beautifully that is shocking. Events that occured early in the series and seemed somewhat pointless are tied back into the story. Everything leads inexorably to one single conclusion. If you are an author, this is what you should aspire to in your writing. The plot of Harry Potter should be, if not your model, then at least your inspiration.
Others will speak for the theme, characterization, subject, etc. of Rowling's books, but to me they speak on a very personal level because they demonstrate so very clearly that it is possible to undertake a very challenging plot and do it justice. I'm working to follow in Rowling's footsteps, and she has given me a very clear idea of the satisfaction I can expect should I succeed.
That is why I say thank you.
What I have to say is this: Thank you, J.K. Rowling. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I don't know how many people out there really appreciate what a titanic feat it is to create your own fantasy realm and write seven books--nearly four thousand pages--of complex interwoven plot. It is hard enough to write a single good plot long enough to fill a short story. Many, many fantasy series authors write themselves into limbo, and those are some of the best authors in the genre! People that tell compelling stories of massive scope! Yet what happens to them? They forget where they were going, if they ever knew, and their great work shrivels and dies in infancy.
I've heard a lot of criticism of Rowling as well: her style is "childish" her characterizations are "simplistic", her themes are "altruistic". Whatever. Where Rowling really shines is in the creation and development of plot. I managed to predict ahead of time many of the developments in the final book of the series. Far from a condemnation, this is actually praise for Rowling's plot-writing abilities.
If a plot is logical, you should be able to figure out where it is going. The surprise should come from the specific steps the author takes to lead you there. This makes the conclusion of a novel both satisfying, in that it confirms your expectations for how the world is organized, and startling, in that you hadn't seen the world through quite that lens before. This is also Rowling's genius.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows ties up her plot so beautifully that is shocking. Events that occured early in the series and seemed somewhat pointless are tied back into the story. Everything leads inexorably to one single conclusion. If you are an author, this is what you should aspire to in your writing. The plot of Harry Potter should be, if not your model, then at least your inspiration.
Others will speak for the theme, characterization, subject, etc. of Rowling's books, but to me they speak on a very personal level because they demonstrate so very clearly that it is possible to undertake a very challenging plot and do it justice. I'm working to follow in Rowling's footsteps, and she has given me a very clear idea of the satisfaction I can expect should I succeed.
That is why I say thank you.
Jul 20, 2007
Live Free or Die Hard
You thought I was going to blog about Harry Potter, didn't you? WELL YOU WERE WRONG!
I will probably succumb and write about HP after I read the book, but now you get a movie review because I'm too tired to do anything else. It's kind of hard to do a good review more than two weeks after you saw the movie, though.
Live Free or Die Hard was a very enjoyable summer flick, but unfortunately nothing really stood out as unusual so I think it may vanish into the woodwork. Astonishingly for most action movies it had a reasonably clever and maybe even plausible plot. The stunts, of course, were not plausible at all, but they were fun.
Most of the fun of the movie comes from the interaction of the main characters, though, and there is some good dialog. Justin Long came across as a Keanu Reeves-Matrix look-alike, only with ACTING SKILLS, which was almost shocking. Most of the villains didn't get much screen time, though, and they didn't have a lot of dialogue, either, which made them seem kind of one-dimensional. The one thing I do have to say in their favor is that the main villian is presented as being out for revenge because he tried to warn the government that a disaster could happen but they ignored him. So, predictably, he's causing said disaster. He's never portrayed as a sympathetic character. You are not supposed to think, oh, poor him, screw those guys that wouldn't listen to him. Instead the director did an excellent job of making you think: "Wow, what a jerk."
It's fun, but it needed some surprising or vibrant element to make it all really come together and be exceptional.
I will probably succumb and write about HP after I read the book, but now you get a movie review because I'm too tired to do anything else. It's kind of hard to do a good review more than two weeks after you saw the movie, though.
Live Free or Die Hard was a very enjoyable summer flick, but unfortunately nothing really stood out as unusual so I think it may vanish into the woodwork. Astonishingly for most action movies it had a reasonably clever and maybe even plausible plot. The stunts, of course, were not plausible at all, but they were fun.
Most of the fun of the movie comes from the interaction of the main characters, though, and there is some good dialog. Justin Long came across as a Keanu Reeves-Matrix look-alike, only with ACTING SKILLS, which was almost shocking. Most of the villains didn't get much screen time, though, and they didn't have a lot of dialogue, either, which made them seem kind of one-dimensional. The one thing I do have to say in their favor is that the main villian is presented as being out for revenge because he tried to warn the government that a disaster could happen but they ignored him. So, predictably, he's causing said disaster. He's never portrayed as a sympathetic character. You are not supposed to think, oh, poor him, screw those guys that wouldn't listen to him. Instead the director did an excellent job of making you think: "Wow, what a jerk."
It's fun, but it needed some surprising or vibrant element to make it all really come together and be exceptional.
Jul 19, 2007
They're Ruining my Reputation
Via Myrhaf, I find this little bit of blogtrivia:
Mingle2 - Online Dating
You have got to be KIDDING me. G?! I think it only rates you based on the text on the front page, because I know there's some significant profanity in older posts. Sheesh.Jul 18, 2007
Treasure Tables
Via Twenty-Sided I ran across this blog which is pretty-much devoted to helping GM's improve their skillz. This is pretty close to being my favorite (maybe only) topic of conversation with my non-Objectivist friends, and just from skimming the front page of the blog I found several tips that I will be considering further. Can you say gold mine?
Running a role-playing game is like any other complex social activity (running a small business, starting a club) that involves a small group of people with a single goal. It requires a lot of organization, applied philosophy and psychology, and VERY good problem-solving skills. A lot of games crash and burn when the GM fails in one of these or a myriad of other areas. A friend of mine sometimes asks why people keep gaming if most games are a disaster. He supposes that people practice selective-forgetting so that they don't feel they've wasted the time on doing something that wasn't actually fun.
I think it's the opposite: that a good game, properly done, is so much fun that you're willing to put up with all the other crap in order to experience it. It's kind of like sports: to an outsider it looks like the players spend a lot of time doing the same old not-very-interesting things over and over. But the moments of pure awesome drama make up for it.
Running a role-playing game is like any other complex social activity (running a small business, starting a club) that involves a small group of people with a single goal. It requires a lot of organization, applied philosophy and psychology, and VERY good problem-solving skills. A lot of games crash and burn when the GM fails in one of these or a myriad of other areas. A friend of mine sometimes asks why people keep gaming if most games are a disaster. He supposes that people practice selective-forgetting so that they don't feel they've wasted the time on doing something that wasn't actually fun.
I think it's the opposite: that a good game, properly done, is so much fun that you're willing to put up with all the other crap in order to experience it. It's kind of like sports: to an outsider it looks like the players spend a lot of time doing the same old not-very-interesting things over and over. But the moments of pure awesome drama make up for it.
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