[Writing] Tape's short stories - The Axeman Cometh (2014/06/03)

[Gabi]

I liked it. I can't think of anything to say that hasn't been said already, but I liked the pace and the descriptions. And Bas's comment too.

[Tapewolf]

This story almost happened by accident.  It was originally something referenced by another story I'm working on, when I realised that there was enough potential for it to stand on its own.  It ended up far longer than I had expected so I've decided to publish it in two parts.
It is set around the time of DMFA.

Thanks again to Keaton and Wuffnpuff for proof-reading.



Critical Mass - Part One

Neuheim was a city-state torn between several time periods, as many were.  The northern part of the territory bristled with high-rise buildings including one which had no foundation at all, floating as it did between two skyscrapers and connected to them by means of a skybridge.  Every six months the spells anchoring it in place would be inspected and maintained with all the rigour of engineers inspecting an aircraft or a suspension bridge.
South of the river, the buildings shrank and became older, some of them dating back thousands of years.

Of particular interest to tourists was the great cathedral built by Beings in long centuries past.  No magic or technology was used in its construction and it had taken decades of honest labour to build, with extensions added every so often.  In the past century alone, electric lighting had been added, the impressive pipe organ had had its bellows replaced with squirrel-cage blowers and more recently, MIDI control had been added.

Services were held regularly, but once every season a large and spectacular Mass would be given, heaping praises and thanks upon the local deity.  Over time these had become a major tourist attraction which drew folks from territories all over the continent and beyond.

Politically speaking, the state of Neuheim was as mixed as its period.  Officially it was part of Nar'mal territory, an Angel-Demon consortium who viewed it as a strategic acquisition in order to prevent one of their rivals from becoming too powerful.  In principle, it was Creature-run.  In practice, most of the inhabitants were Beings, and as a result there were bad areas where it was not safe for a weaker Creature to tread, whatever the law might say.

The Cathedral was not one of these dangerous areas, but nonetheless, Jakob Pettersohn felt a little out of place as one of the only ones with feathery wings on his back.  A couple of people pointed and stared at him, and in more than one case over-eager tourists had photographed him.

In bygone days, a feather-winged incubus could just hide his head-wings and pretend to be of Angel descent.  Nowadays, as Angels had started to become vanishingly rare - at least in public - there was little to be gained.  After all, there was next to no point in hiding the fact that you are a very rare and potentially-dangerous Creature by pretending to be another very rare and potentially-dangerous Creature.

Depending on the local political climate and attitude towards the race, it was tempting for an incubus or succubus to masquerade as a Demon, especially among 'Cubi who naturally had leathery wings.  While this still carried a stigma among adventurers, there was some advantage to being pegged as a Creature who was - while still dangerous - at least a relatively common sight.

Jakob bore a sword at his side, not because he needed it but because a Creature with a sword was usually an adventurer - in other words a monster-hunter - and this tended to put Beings at ease.  A Creature gone on a rampage rarely needed such implements, after all.

With a muttered curse, the wolf found an empty public toilet and using it for privacy, concealed his back-wings.  While he was perfectly capable of assuming a Demon or part-Demon appearance, he chose not to... the 'Cubi race were often pegged as schemers or ne'er-do-wells and he didn't want to encourage this by assuming an identity too far from his base form unless he had a very good reason to do so.
Now, with his wings hidden and his fur naturally grey, he could pass as a regular Being.  Checking himself in the mirror, he headed back to the Cathedral and rejoined the queue.

* * *

The organist was in fine form.  Jakob did not know the hymn, but was able to wing it by scanning the thoughts of people who did.  Once the preliminaries were done, the Archbishop - a silver fox - approached the high altar and Mass began in earnest.  Jakob sat happily, not so much because of the sermon about the horrifying torments which had martyred Saint Bulovere, but feeling instead the warm glow of all the minds around him.  A number of them were shielded... apparently he wasn't the only 'Cubi in the congregation.

When he had been a young adult most of a thousand years ago, Jakob had lived in a small and scattered farming community in the forest.  This was not the best environment for an incubus or succubus to grow up in as his kind needed to feed on the ambient emotions of others, but Jakob didn't know any better.
At the time he had believed that he, his brother and his missing father were all just some kind of winged Being.  Phoenixes had wings, after all... why couldn't he have feathers too?  Then, one fateful day, he woke up with a small pair of wings on his head and his life was turned upside-down.

Jakob would probably have grown up to be a weakling, and it might have taken a long time for him to have absorbed enough emotions to change had it not been for his mother's piety.  Every Sunday they would go to church in the nearest market town, and Jakob had loved it.  Not because he believed in Christ the Human but because he loved being with so many other people - it made him feel truly alive.

In hindsight, it was these services which had kept him fed with emotions, finally overloading him and triggering the change... giving him head-wings and turning him into a fully adult incubus.  And now, centuries later, Jakob had felt in himself a growing nostalgia to see Mass performed again - so here he was, daydreaming about his younger, carefree and innocent days.

After the first sermon, the organ struck up again and Jakob turned around with a start.  The Mass was a popular event which drew many people and to avoid the temptation of rampages or other troublemakers, part-Demon peacetime guards were stationed around the corners of the nave.
When he'd entered, Jakob had been sure there were four of them, but now there were only three.  What the hell?

There was no way they could be on a coffee-break or something.  He knew this kind of setup from other institutions... there were always four guards and they changed shift together.  Going out for a pee was a serious infraction and given how meticulously the city had been rehearsing for the Mass, it was just this side of unthinkable.

A head or two turned around briefly, looking roughly in his direction... someone had sensed his brief panic.  A lady in fine dress - most likely a succubus - glanced at him for a bit and then turned her attention back to the hallowed sanctuary where the high altar stood.

Jakob glanced around again and saw to his horror that there were now only two guards.  He tried to raise the alarm but the organ was currently performing an earth-shattering solo before the next verse began.  No one can hear your screams, he thought.  Or was it really one of his thoughts?  Had it been someone else...?

Jakob excused himself and pushing his way through the congregation, found one of the guards.  He distinctly felt a burst of pain from somewhere behind him and judging by the bobbing of several heads in the congregation, other Creatures who were sensitive to such matters did too.  Jakob pointed in one of the corners of the nave and almost jumped out of his skin.  The guard drew his sword and they ran together to the empty corner where the third guard had been.  

The Demon picked up a small piece of paper and scanned it briefly.  He swallowed and reached for a walkie-talkie.  "I need assistance," he barked.  "I said, I need assistance!" he repeated.  Jakob felt a surge of glee from someone very close and a small cosh appeared out of thin air.  It came down quickly and struck the back of the unfortunate part-Demon's head, rendering him unconscious before he could harden his skin.

A shadowy figure appeared, neatly catching the guard as he fell and before the wolf quite realised what was happening, the guard too had become a shadow, and then invisible as his body was hauled off to places unknown.  The slip of paper dropped from the fallen Demon's hand and fluttered to the ground.

Jakob whimpered slightly... whoever had done this was very well shielded... aside from that one brief surge of emotion, the attacker's mind had been completely hidden from him.  He picked up the fallen scrap of paper and read it himself.  It consisted entirely of two words: "You're Next".

As the hymn finished, Jakob ran to the steps of the high altar.  His backwings were out, but he didn't care.  The congregation gasped and then a cloud of anger and rage began to erupt and Jakob quailed, forgetting what he was going to say while he tried to shield his mind from the incoming torrent of hatred.  The Archbishop raised a finger at him and it glowed slightly.  Jakob's mind reeled.

"Remove this blasphemer!" the silver fox yelled and before the incubus could protest he had been seized by a number of armed guards.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Jakob asked, as the guards led him through the cloisters.  His voice was uneven, his mind felt like jelly and he was leaning heavily on one of the guards... he'd obviously been given a powerful stun spell.  He could feel the wind in his headwings and backwings, but there was little point in hiding them now.

"To the cells, of course," the guard captain replied.  "You stupid Creature... what the hell were you trying to achieve?!"

"I can't remember," Jakob said.  "But it was very important...  Wait.  Why do you have cells?  This is holy ground..."

"Every other year we get someone trying to disrupt the Mass.  Sometimes it's a drunken student.  Sometimes it's someone dangerous, like you."

"Once it was a Jyraneth succubus disguised as a drunken student," added a guard helpfully.

"Look, I haven't done anything!" Jakob protested.

"That's because we stopped you first," one of the other guards pointed out.

"I dunno," the captain said.  "He seems harmless enough.  He hasn't tried to escape... still, we can't take chances."  They stopped outside a cell.  Even in his groggy state, the incubus could sense the enchantments placed upon it to prevent him being able to escape.

"Get in there," he ordered.  Jakob hesitated.  The guard captain, a powerful feline Demon, crossed his arms.

"Look," he said.  "Sacrilege is a serious business, and the fact that you're a Creature doing it isn't looking well in your favour.  All the same, I'm giving you a choice here.  Get in there peacefully and when Mass is safely over you can go home, no questions asked.  As far as I'm concerned that's the end of the matter.
"If you don't... we'll stun you and you'll wake up in a police cell facing a number of charges."

"Hobson's choice," Jakob mumbled and got in.

"Never heard of him," the Demon said, sliding the bolt home.

"Wait!" Jakob shrieked.  "Wait!  I remember what I was doing!  Come back, I have to tell you!"  He pounded on the reinforced door, but the guards were already out of earshot.

* * *

Jakob sat despondently in his cell, gazing through the bars.  The cell was a penitential one that had obviously been reinforced within the last few decades to deal with unruly tourists.  It opened out into the cloister and he could see lush gardens.  It was rather pretty but 'Cubi had notoriously poor attention spans and after staring at it for fifteen minutes or so, the garden had kind of lost its charm.

He had considered phoning up the cathedral's enquiries line on his mobile, but unfortunately it didn't work - his provider didn't have any coverage in this area.  He played Snakes for a bit and then the battery ran out.

So far the guards had treated him as a prankster, even bringing him a carton of fruit juice and some pastry from the visitor's restaurant when it struck noon - but he wasn't sure what would happen when they discovered that the other guards were missing.

In the distance the organ struck up again.  As Jakob watched glumly, one of the guards strode past, a strong and somewhat handsome Alsatian hound with leathery blue wings and cruel horns.  He waved as he went past.  Then there was a faint cracking sound and he fell as if shot.
Jakob's eyes widened and he could hear a voice... someone very close by singing, not quite in time with the congregation.  The voice moved invisibly and the guard faded from view as the incubus scrabbled to try and get a better view.  Before his eyes a patch of grass parted itself as the guard was dragged through it.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...  Jakob thought.  Then he realised that this exonerated him.  Earlier on he had tried to stretch his tentacles through the bars to try and open the bolt but the spell had prevented it.  With their wards and enchantments, there was no way he could have harmed the guard from this distance.  Surely they would have to let him out now... unless the intruder had just taken down the last guard.

Then the voice spoke again.  "Don't worry," he said, "I'll be back for you later."  The voice wandered off, laughing evilly.  Jakob whimpered.

* * *

The organ played on with Jakob becoming more and more frantic until he noticed someone coming down the path towards his cell.  He couldn't believe it... the Archbishop himself had come.  To redeem him, or punish him for his sins...?

The bolt slid open.  "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..." Jakob babbled.  "Please forgive me, your Grace... but it was important!  I have to..."   He was cut short by a gesture of benediction from the fox.

"I have already forgiven you, my child," he said.  "I was, perhaps, a little hasty in having the guards remove you..."

Jakob uttered a garbled string of thanks.  "Your Grace," he said finally, "Someone has been picking off the guards, one by one.  I was trying to warn you and that is why I approached the sanctuary, in my sin..."

"Indeed?" the Archbishop said, frowning.  "This is a most serious matter.  You must tell the captain of the guard about it.  Come with me."

Jakob followed the fox obediently, but with a slightly puzzled feeling in the back of his head.  The Archbishop's mind was shielded... nothing too unusual about that, though - there was no reason he had to be a Being, after all.  And another Creature would certainly help against Jakob's nameless foe...

"Are you all right, your Grace?" Jakob asked.  The fox stopped suddenly and gave him a questioning look.

"You seem to have cut your hand," the incubus explained.  "Do you want me to heal it for you?"

"Oh, that's nothing," he replied.  "A splinter on your cell door, I think.  Tell the truth, I hadn't really noticed..."  He stopped as they came to the door, which the Archbishop opened after a single knock.  He frowned.  "There's no-one there," he said.

Jakob hesitated and then entered himself.  He looked around the room and listened out for any thoughts or other signs of some habitation, but the room was quite empty.

"Your Grace, where..." he started and turned around.  The Archbishop was gone.


To be continued...

( Suggestions for when I should publish the conclusion are welcome, I haven't decided )

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Okay, that's nicely creepy.

[Cogidubnus]

I'm terrible at commentary or criticism of any sort, but I can definitely say that I liked it.

The way you portray creatures is growing on me. When they put Jakob in the cell, my first reaction was to ask "Why hasn't he used his godlike creature powers to escape yet?", but it made me think back to all the other times I've seen you use creatures, and I suspect that it's done on purpose, for two reasons. The firstly being that I think it makes for a better story.

The second being that you seem to cast creatures in generally two lights - and Jakob has been both of them, really. The type of creature that overpowers society, and the kind that doesn't. I'm not nearly expressing myself well enough here, but what I'm trying to say is that reading a story which is not simply "CREATURE SMASH" is refreshing. Neither do I think you write in such a way, I merely am trying to express the fact that I liked the way you went about things here.

Jakob did seem a bit...emotional, here, though? I'm not sure if that's on purpose or not. I suspect it may be plot related, as he usually strikes me as a bit more collected. But I could be being completely daft.

[Tapewolf]

The way you portray creatures is growing on me. When they put Jakob in the cell, my first reaction was to ask "Why hasn't he used his godlike creature powers to escape yet?", but it made me think back to all the other times I've seen you use creatures, and I suspect that it's done on purpose, for two reasons. The firstly being that I think it makes for a better story.

Yeah, after I'd written the thing I went back over it looking for plot holes.  Why Jakob doesn't simply break out was one of them, but I figured that if they had to deal with rogue Demons or other Creatures on a regular basis, they'd have invested in making the cells tough enough to hold a Creature.  Also, as you say, it gets a bit tedious if the hero is powerful enough to do anything he wants and consistently does so.  (This is why classic Dr. Who had a number of stories where K-9 was broken down or otherwise written out - he tended to make rescues a bit too easy)

The second being that you seem to cast creatures in generally two lights - and Jakob has been both of them, really. The type of creature that overpowers society, and the kind that doesn't. I'm not nearly expressing myself well enough here, but what I'm trying to say is that reading a story which is not simply "CREATURE SMASH" is refreshing. Neither do I think you write in such a way, I merely am trying to express the fact that I liked the way you went about things here.

Thanks.  One of the things I've tried to do in this story is to portray Creatures, and in particular, Demons and Demon hybrids as people rather than monsters.  I may perhaps have made them a little too Being-like as a result, it's difficult to say.  It could be argued that Jakob is simply trying to create a good impression.

Jakob did seem a bit...emotional, here, though? I'm not sure if that's on purpose or not. I suspect it may be plot related, as he usually strikes me as a bit more collected. But I could be being completely daft.

That's something I hadn't really considered.  Granted for this chapter, he's either in a massive crowd or stunned half out of his skull.  And 'Cubi are somewhat emotional and flighty creatures anyway - to an extent, Jakob in this is a rather more DMFA-like portrayal of a 'Cubi than in Project Future, where he's in charge and mostly unflappable.

Anyway, thanks for the critique, it was most helpful.  I'll probably upload the rest of it tomorrow or over the weekend.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Scattered impressions.

Finally, something that portrays creatures as vulnerable to mere beings! I never quite bought the situation where Beings have shopping malls and computer games being sold, but at are at the mercy of any rampaging creature unless a helpful adventurer happens to be in the area. Dark Pegasus, even with all his power, died with a sword through the gut.

Is this a setting where religious figures have actual powers granted from their deities? I'm wondering if that Archbishop  has actual power to back up his office, irrespective of whether he's a creature or not.

Also, is Jakob's observation that  

The Archbishop's mind was shielded... nothing too unusual about that, though - there was no reason he had to be a Being, after all.  And another Creature would certainly help against Jakob's nameless foe...

a world builder's assumption, a.k.a all people powerful enough to have mind shields are Creatures, or is it one that Jakob, a more fallible character is making?

One last thing that interests me, is the "presence" of the narrator. You get a lot of information, especially  in the first section, that's simply given to the reader by whomever is telling the story, and not say, through character observation or interaction. Any particular reason you chose to do it like this? In a related note, is any particular figure narrating this story, or is it just an omniscient disinterested third party?


EDIT: One last thing that amused me, the "Cosh" appearing. It took me a minute to remember that it meant like a blackjack, as I stopped to wonder how someone could be knocked around with a symbol of the hyperbolic function hyperbolic cosine.

[Tapewolf]

Is this a setting where religious figures have actual powers granted from their deities? I'm wondering if that Archbishop  has actual power to back up his office, irrespective of whether he's a creature or not.

At length, I decided to leave it ambiguous as to whether their god exists or not.

Also, is Jakob's observation that  

The Archbishop's mind was shielded... nothing too unusual about that, though - there was no reason he had to be a Being, after all.  And another Creature would certainly help against Jakob's nameless foe...

a world builder's assumption, a.k.a all people powerful enough to have mind shields are Creatures, or is it one that Jakob, a more fallible character is making?

Jakob's assumption.

One last thing that interests me, is the "presence" of the narrator. You get a lot of information, especially  in the first section, that's simply given to the reader by whomever is telling the story, and not say, through character observation or interaction. Any particular reason you chose to do it like this? In a related note, is any particular figure narrating this story, or is it just an omniscient disinterested third party?

Well, it's explaining the background.  Jakob doesn't talk to people in this story all that much, as opposed to Future History etc. where half of it is discussions in corridors or in front of the TV.  It felt more natural to give the background in third-person as opposed to invoking a character for the sole purpose of having Jakob explain it to them, and then having them mysteriously vanish.  And I don't really want to have Jakob recounting this story himself, it was one of the things which annoyed me about Chronicles and it wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable to write in that mode.

[Inumo]

For some reason I'm immediately thinking of the dramatic chipmunk... Nice cliff-hanger of an ending. Can't wait to read the rest.
Also, my thoughts about the narrator thing. As it stands, it feels (to me) that the narrator is Jakob, trying to sorta remind himself of why everybody's so excited about his wings. My two cents.

[Tapewolf]

Thanks very much for the comments, everyone.  And before I forget, thanks also to my parents for taking me to Salisbury Cathedral when I was about 14.  It has inspired a lot of the setting.

Critical Mass - Part Two

During this part of the Mass it was traditional for a lesser priest to give a reading so that the Archbishop could have a break.  He wouldn't return until after the next hymn and Jakob vaguely wondered what would happen at that point.  In the meantime, the Cathedral was entirely devoid of any guards and he had the run of the place.  Indeed, if he did meet anyone it would be to his advantage as they could raise the alarm.

While he was becoming increasingly concerned for the well-being of everyone, Jakob was not about to stand in front of the congregation again.  There were a number of 'Cubi in there and they were having a first-class banquet.  If he disturbed things again it would be a miracle if they didn't lynch him - and this time there were no guards to rescue him.  Jakob started to panic... the cathedral now appeared to be entirely empty save for the congregation and the priest.

The organist, Jakob thought.  Could he be responsible...?  Don't be silly...  Nearly all the disappearances have happened while he was playing.

The Chapel of Our Lady Goronza was locked and there was something inside it which felt a lot like an unconscious mind.  Jakob almost howled with triumph until he realised that it was very, very locked and the door was warded so tightly that even Snell could not have picked it.

Running out of other places to search, Jakob crept into the organ loft and there saw a sight he hadn't expected - although the only sound he could hear was the priest below, the organist, a wolf, was wearing a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and he was silently playing the organ.

The incubus blinked with astonishment for a moment until he realised what it was he was seeing. The organ was electronically controlled, the ranks of pipes remotely switched on and off by solenoids.  The organist had shut down the blowers and with no air to drive them the pipes were silent.  But why was he doing this...?  Practising for the next hymn?

At this distance Jakob couldn't be sure and getting close enough to hear his thoughts clearly would risk disturbing him, which he did not want.  Listening carefully he heard the very faint sound of organ music and realised it was coming from the organist's headphones.  There was a laptop on the floor and apparently the organist was using it to synthesize the organ sounds while he practised his recital - in effect, he was using the cathedral's organ as a controller keyboard, and the laptop itself was what he was 'playing'.  Clever.

Jakob giggled slightly, thinking about what would happen if the organist left it that mode when actually performing the next hymn - or if he accidentally restarted the blowers while practising.  Silence or cacophony... take your pick.

Finally the reading ended.  Jakob brought himself back to reality and cursed... he'd missed a chance to talk to the organist before the hymn began.  The wolf, who had been waiting for this moment, pressed a couple of buttons and flicked a switch which went home with a satisfying 'clunk'.  In the distance Jakob could hear the fans coming online and quickly evacuated the loft before he could be deafened.

* * *

As he wandered, Jakob came close to fleeing, but some sense of honour prevented him.  For all he knew the guards and the Archbishop had had their souls eaten.  If so, whoever was responsible for this could soon begin snacking on the congregation too, most likely by working from the back.  That was too horrible an idea for him to just ignore and leaving aside the fact that the cathedral entrances were barred to prevent gatecrashers, if he was caught on CCTV fleeing from the site just after an outrage like that had occurred, he'd have a bounty on his head that was roughly the size of Neuheim's gross domestic product.

The organist flubbed a note slightly and Jakob turned his mind back to the organ loft.  He found the entrance and drawing back the curtain, froze... the organist was climbing down the ladder, still wearing his ear-defending headphones.

Holy shit, Jakob thought, The organ is still playing.

It's MIDI-controlled! he realised in a flash.  While he was 'practising', the organist had actually been recording the next piece in advance as Jakob watched - and now the notes he had recorded on the laptop were all being played back into the organ.  Meanwhile the organist himself was free to roam around, disappearing people to his evil little heart's content.  The other wolf - the organist - turned to Jakob, grinned widely and vanished.

"Don't worry, I promise I'll be back for you later," he said again and laughed into the distance.

The organist dunnit! Jakob thought in dismay.

Using his shapeshifting powers to close his ears somewhat, Jakob climbed up into the organ loft.  It was tempting to unplug the laptop or cut the blowers, but he thought of the congregation again and what would happen to him when they realised he was responsible for it.  Jakob shivered.

Ahaha, he thought, noticing something on the organ console - a small bunch of door keys which the organist had evidently forgotten to bring with him.  Jakob leaned over, very nearly pushing one of the stops in (which would have immediately alerted the organist to his presence) and picked up the key-ring.

There were six keys on the ring and it was not until trying the sixth one that Jakob finally unlocked the Chapel of Our Lady Goronza.  Inside, lying neatly at the base of a particularly ugly rendition of the Lady herself, the wolf found what he had been expecting to find, the Archbishop neatly stripped of his vestments and lying unconscious.
Curious and slightly concerned about the great man's wellbeing, Jakob inspected both his hands and an evil grin stretched across his features... the Archbishop didn't have a cut on his hand any more.

So, Jakob thought, It was definitely the impostor who let me out.  And he got the cut in the fight with the real McCoy, I'll bet.  Serves him right.
Then the incubus frowned in puzzlement.  But then... Why did he bother letting me out at all...?  There was no cure for it, Jakob just shrugged and moved on to the next problem.

Examining the fallen Archbishop more closely, the wolf noticed that his Grace had another cut, one on the back of his head.  It was still bleeding and a bit more freely than Jakob would have liked.  He cast a small healing spell and then left hastily - in order to wash the wound properly he'd need some water and cloth and he didn't have either of those to hand.

The horribly deserted restaurant was just off the cloisters, and with the guilt weighing heavily on his conscience, Jakob reluctantly broke into the kitchens in order to steal what he needed - a jug which he filled and a bandage from the first-aid kit.
It's for a good cause, he thought reluctantly.
As he was about to leave he heard someone outside shout "Guards!" and then there was a thump followed by other sounds of violence.

Down goes another member of the clergy, the wolf incubus thought glumly and when he was sure the coast was clear, snuck back to the apse and Goronza's chapel.  Inside, he almost dropped the jug - the Archbishop had changed.  To the untrained eye it had looked like he'd simply rolled over, but Jakob had spent some time examining him for injuries and had a pretty clear idea of what the Archbishop should look like.

Firstly, for a man of the Cloth he was surprisingly buff - somewhat more so than he had been when Jakob had healed him earlier.  Secondly, he had no cut on his head, but the one on his right hand had mysteriously returned.  Jakob put the water down and ran like hell.

Have I just healed the wrong one..? he whimpered, mentally.

* * *

The organ finished playing and to Jakob's great dismay, an Archbishop was standing at the high altar for the final part of the Mass.  There was a tear in one of his lengthy and ornate sleeves.

By now Jakob had entirely lost track of which Archbishop was which, but what was pretty clear was that whoever was currently in the sanctuary wanted to be Archbishop, and that whoever was currently in the chapel was not going to brook any opposition.  Perhaps in the confusion he could tell them apart...

There can be only one, Jakob thought as he healed the slightly buff Archbishop in the chapel.  He came around very quickly and made a grab for the wolf.

"You!" the maybe-Archbishop exclaimed and his eyes narrowed.  "Incubus... all this is your doing...?  Such sacrilege... how could you violate holy ground!?  But then... your kind has been deceitful!"

"You're one to talk," Jakob retorted, folding his arms.  "I don't know who the hell you are, but you're obviously a Demon.  Your kind has been responsible for countless outrages throughout the eons and besides, you're impersonating a man of the Cloth, so don't you dare lecture me about racial ethics!"

"I'm the fucking Archbishop of Neuheim!" the fox yelled and it echoed around the halls of the cathedral.  "I usually charge for my lectures!  Now fetch me my vestments and maybe you shall be forgiven by the divine..."

"Your Grace?" Jakob said, taken aback and kneeling before him.  "Please forgive me.  I thought you were the one at the altar, concluding Mass outside."

The probably-Archbishop looked horrified.  In a single motion he pulled himself up onto both feet and then removed a ring from one finger.  Leathery wings appeared behind his back as he did so and remained there as he put the ring on backwards for safekeeping.

"Come with me, my child," he said ominously.  "I may require your help."

"You're not an organist by any chance are you?" Jakob asked confusedly.  The Archbishop just looked at him.  "Please, now is not the time for any of your incubus mind-games," he said.

"Oh, forget it..." Jakob replied, and then froze in horror as the words of the Mass suddenly sunk in.  "Wait - the impostor... did he really just say that...?"

"I think so," the Archbishop said.  He looked surprised.  "I thought the congregation looked a little glassy-eyed tonight.  Has he bewitched them or hypnotised them or something?"

"I guess he could have, I'm just..." Jakob swallowed.  "Your Grace, I've seen a lot of hucksters and snake-oil salesmen, but I've never, in all my long life seen anyone so good that he could get the crowd to willingly sell their own souls to him."

"I think he described it as a non-exclusive cross-licensing agreement," the Archbishop said doubtfully.  He quickened his pace as the Mass was rapidly coming to an end.

"...And that," the vestment-clad figure concluded, "Is why from this day on, the eighth deadly sin shall be the sin of marbles!"

The congregation gave a roar of approval, and then fell silent as the true Archbishop appeared in full Demon form, dressed only in a pair of leather leggings that Jakob had found lying in a corner of the south transept.  They had most likely belonged to the intruder before he'd replaced the real organist, but it was the closest they could find to any vestments.

"You're not the Archbishop," the fox said in a loud but calm voice which rang throughout the nave like a bell.  "Do you want to settle this like Beings or Demons?"

"Or organists?" Jakob added helpfully.  "Actually, I've never seen Bishop-to-Bishop combat before.  It might be interesting..."  The True Archbishop looked pained and Jakob shut up.

"An organist duel would be nice," the Creature said and removed the vestments, placing them in a pile on the altar.  He sulked and gave it a light-hearted kick as he moved away.

"All right.  Where are the clergy, where the guards and where is the real organist?" Jakob asked.

"They're all in the crypt," the interloper said, changing from a silver fox back into a wolf.  "I arranged their bodies so they spelled out the word 'FUCh'."

"Fushhh...?" Jakob echoed, his expression one of stone.  The Archbishop was not so good at concealing his emotions.  "Bodies...?" he queried and his face became a wonderful portrait of thunderous, absolute rage.  Jakob quailed and took a step backwards.

"Yeah," the organist continued.  "I was trying to write the f-word, but I couldn't finish the 'K' because I ran out of people.  You need to hire more staff."

The Archbishop displayed a tremendous amount of self-control, especially for a Demon.  His wings were trembling slightly and his fingers had become razor-sharp.

"Let me get this straight," he said finally.  "You... you murdered my clergy - men of the Cloth and on sanctified ground, no less - just so that you could arrange their corpses into swear-words...?"

"Oh, no no no..." the organist interrupted as he realised what they were thinking.  "I haven't hurt them.  Well, not much, anyway.  I don't like pain... pain sucks.  And killing people is just nasty!
"I did have to keep them stunned, though.  The big one kept waking up and it was spoiling his letter..."

"He must be a rogue Dimanika member or something," Jakob said.  "They're pretty out of it, but they don't kill people."

"So, a pain-sensitive as well a a shapeshifter.  You are definitely 'Cubi then?" the true Archbishop asked, his face slightly more calm.  "I suppose that figures."

"Yeah, and I would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for that pesky kid," the incubus retorted, pointing at Jakob.

"I'll have you know I'm 900 years old," Jakob grouched.  "Look.  There's one part of this that I still don't understand, and that's me.  I saw most of what you did.  You have had ample opportunity to get rid of me and use my body to finish the exclamation mark or whatever, but you didn't.  Whenever we met you just made vague threats and walked away, every single time.  Why...?"

"Because, Mr. Pettersohn..." the organist said, "I am your leader."  The wolf became a silver fox again and his eyes turned violet.

It's him, Jakob thought in terror, The crazy, dangerous one who wanted to seduce me...  I hope he's not still trying to...

"So, Mr. Archbishop," Lord Daryil asked, looking thoughtfully at the Demon, "Do you prefer guys or girls?"

The congregation waxed wroth.

The End

[Inumo]

Woo, twist endings!!! Made me giggle reading it.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I did wonder.

Oh, my. Oh, my. Daryil has a lot to answer for.


.. and yes, utterly utterly buggy. ;-]

[Tapewolf]

I did wonder.

One of my challenges was making it less obvious.  About halfway through I was wondering whether I should have changed it so that the enemy was someone else - but in the end I decided to remain true to the original idea.

Woo, twist endings!!! Made me giggle reading it.

Thanks.  I did wonder whether I was throwing too many twists into it and whether it would end up so I was the only person who could follow it.
(If that - I really did get confused about whether the real Archbishop was the one with the hand cut or the head cut...)

[Gabi]

<typo checker>"glanced at him for a it" should be "glanced at him for a bit".</typo checker>

That was on the first part.

I liked the way the story was written. The suspense and the funy comments... even the ending, though Daryil enjoys causing fear too much. I liked the way the organ worked too.

[Tapewolf]

<typo checker>"glanced at him for a it" should be "glanced at him for a bit".</typo checker>

Ha, you missed "Stopped outside cell" 
Anyway, thanks for spotting it, I've corrected that now.

I liked the way the story was written. The suspense and the funy comments... even the ending, though Daryil enjoys causing fear too much. I liked the way the organ worked too.

Thanks.  The pipe organ is one instrument I can't really do justice to in my music, but I do find them rather fascinating.

[Tapewolf]

The Book of the Tenets of Clan Daryil

This is currently available only as a PDF file, I will look at transcribing it to the forum later.  It's a 177k PDF containing pearls of the wisdom (?) of Lord Daryil.

http://www.project-future.org/stuff/things/tenets.pdf

[VAE]

Hmm, one question.
Was Lady Ti'Nera a Tri-wing?
If so, how did Daryil kill her? (did she roll several ones in a row?)

[Gabi]

Who wrote the 2nd edition?

I'd like to see the scratch-n-sniff edition.

But why does the vegetable pie contain meat?

And how can Daryil not remember the clan he was born into?

Small typo: on page 7, it says "are own lives" instead of "our own lives".

[Tapewolf]

Hmm, one question.
Was Lady Ti'Nera a Tri-wing?

No.

Who wrote the 2nd edition?

Daryil, during his first millennium.

But why does the vegetable pie contain meat?

I'm sure you could use some kind of vegetable stock instead.  No-one seems to have noticed the beans, though.

And how can Daryil not remember the clan he was born into?

Because it was more than three thousand years ago?

Small typo: on page 7, it says "are own lives" instead of "our own lives".

Thanks, I'll try and fix that later.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

One pasty?

Don't they usually come in pairs?

[Gabi]

You mean the runner beans weren't meant for running? It reminds me of a certain blowfish recipe from Granny Ogg's Cookbook.

By the way, I like how Jakob got both a dedication and a Wall of Shame entry.

[Tapewolf]

By the way, I like how Jakob got both a dedication and a Wall of Shame entry.

Thanks.  Though if you notice, Cross and Jakob aren't actually linked.

By the way, the typo you found should be fixed, along with a couple of other minor tweaks to the wording (e.g. it looked a little bit like Werrew had gone tri-wing before)

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I did like the "bonus points" mention. Also the "subtitle left blank" and the formal dress code.

Cassandra amuses me as well.

I note that the directive is not to deliberately feed off another member; well, okay, the directive is not to feed, the explanation adds "intentionally"; given she wasn't intentionally feeding, she's kinda on the grey line between yes and no...

[Gabi]

Come to think of it, are there any rules about scaring Beings with health issues that could be worsened by their fear (like heart diseases, etc.)?

[Tapewolf]

Cassandra amuses me as well.

I note that the directive is not to deliberately feed off another member; well, okay, the directive is not to feed, the explanation adds "intentionally"; given she wasn't intentionally feeding, she's kinda on the grey line between yes and no...

"Dearest Mark," the letter read, "I had a marvellous time last night. You were great fun.  I'm sorry I scared you but if it's any consolation, your fear was delicious and yeah, that kinda was the idea.  Anyway, I'm not supposed to do this and my Leader will be mad if he finds out so this is just our little secret, right?  I hope this little something will make things better.  Love and kisses, Cass"

In other words, Daryil actually asked her to stop doing the whole seduction thing.  Which she didn't.

Come to think of it, are there any rules about scaring Beings with health issues that could be worsened by their fear (like heart diseases, etc.)?

It would depend, I think, on whether the 'Cubi had a reasonable idea that it could happen.  Terrorising a nursing home, for instance would have Daryil come after you with a baseball bat.

As it happens, I had several ideas for the Cass story.  One of them was that her victim turned into Daryil, who said something like "Cass, I thought I told you not to do that again..."

One of the others was where Jakob discussing Cass at a party.  Her victim had a heart-attack and grief-stricken, she turned herself in and is not at the Clan gathering because she's serving a jail sentence.

I think the one I used in the end was probably the best.

[Tapewolf]

Okay, I've had this story in mind for a long time now, but only recently got down to writing it.

It is not canon with Future History or the post-FH stories involving Seth - it is actually based on the universe of Basilisk's Of Steam and Steel RP, a sort of dystopian version of Furrae with a somewhat altered version of Sethir.  Is it 100% canon with that?  I guess we'll have to see...

The story idea itself came out of a conversation with Keaton about something her character might have tried to do to Sethir if they met, and how he'd likely react to it.  It also owes a large debt to Neal Stephenson's novel Anathem, and brings a new twist to the book's phrase 'gone to the clock'.

To summarise, this story is actually pretty nasty, but it was fun to write.

PS: Now that this is done, I need to move out of the country, because Keaton knows where I live.




Time and Date - A tale of Steam and Steel

Sethir Clandover parked his bike and made his way to the main square in the capital of Nhylamar.  Nhylamar being a Creature territory, there was no particular need to conceal the fact that he was an incubus and so he didn't, keeping his headwings visible in all situations except those where he was in the most rural Being country and might be killed on sight.

The white wolf incubus did not think of this as flaunting the fact that he was 'Cubi, he wasn't exactly a zealot when it came to such things.  However, his race had a strong reputation for treachery and base deception so he wanted people to know what he was up front - springing it on them later usually made such accusations much harder to defend if the shit ever hit the fan.

As he usually did when visiting the centre of the capital, Seth made his way to the clock tower and climbed up the stairs, standing just outside a door marked "Authorised Personnel Only".  Once or twice he had broken in, just to get closer.  On the last occasion he had been caught and fined.  It had been worth it, but he didn't want to push his luck - if he made himself too much of a nuisance they might increase the security or ban him from the square altogether.  And there were far, far worse things they could do if he really upset The Powers That Be.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes - he had found through long experience that if there wasn't anyone else around to distract him, he would, even from this distance, be able to hear her thoughts.

* * *

It had happened just at the start of the millennium.  Sethir's mother, an employee of the mayor of Nhylamar City, had been found guilty on a high treason charge.  Seth had been in his last years at the Academy and news had reached Fa'Lina slowly.  He had only found out after the sentence had been passed, just in time for one last, teary embrace mere moments before she was led away.  Seth's mind had locked up then, he just froze in the spot, unable to comprehend.
His mother had closed her eyes as she was led to the execution chamber so that the face of her son would be the last thing she ever saw.

As was usually the case in Nhylamar, those who were unfortunate enough to be awarded a death sentence were robbed, not only of their lives but also of their eternal souls, which were normally trapped in some kind of crystal device and auctioned off to the highest bidder.  Seth had spent the next few days and night agonising - the soul of a succubus would fetch a stupendous price on the open market and he could not possibly afford to purchase her back and release her into the beyond.

What would happen to her, he had fretted?  Dissection in a series of lunatic experiments by those trying to probe the inner secrets of the soul itself?  Would she become someones meal, her very essence destroyed to prolong the life of some useless aristocrat?  Or would she be ground away slowly over a period of weeks or months, her vital energies being drained away to power a textile mill or some kind of vehicle...?  All of these possibilities and more besides were very real - Nhylamar's entire economy was based upon the souls of the condemned.

As it happened, the council had already made their own plans for her and the soul-stone had become state property the same day that her corpse had been cremated.  The state had refused even to release her ashes to Sethir and his mother's mortal remains had been flushed into the sewers, a particularly ignominious end for someone who had campaigned so tirelessly to help bring the mayor into power.

For some time, an ornate, expensive - and considerably late - ceremonial clock had been under contruction in the council building to celebrate the new millennium.  The main drive of the clock was mechanical, powered by weights upon a chain which were wound back up every morning by a team of convicts - but the backup power system and the nighttime illuminations were all powered by magic.

To make this possible, the council had needed to procure a long-lived power source, one that would last until at least the next millennium and preferably well into the one after that.  They had used Ivy Clandover's soul as this power source and despite his obvious bias, Seth had pretty good reason to believe that she had been framed for this very purpose.
At first he had thought to investigate and get his mother's soul freed by due process of law, but the more he uncovered the more he came to realise that asking too many of the wrong questions could very easily make him a marked soul too.

* * *

Leaving his bike parked where it was, Seth wandered into a bar later that morning and nursed a small tankard of ale.  Drink didn't affect him very strongly, but even so he kept it moderate.  I guess I'm just not in the mood, he thought.
Someone climbed onto the stool next to his, he glanced at them and noticed that it was a yellow succubus jackal.  She caught his eye.

"Hey there, rider," she said, casting an appraising glance at him.  "How's life treating you?"

"Seth," he said and shook her hand.  "Keaton," she replied.

"I'm not sure I'm the best company at the moment," he said, "Not unless you feed on sorrow and self-pity or something.  I'm more of a justice type myself."

"So, what ails you?" she asked brightly.  "I'm sure I can help, I'm good at that."

"I dunno, I guess... I've been thinking about the soul trade a lot.  I know it's not a popular stance to take at the moment, but it just seems so... wrong.  All these poor Creatures, Beings having their very essences broken down...
"I mean... I like the results.  Civilisation, I mean.  Longer lives, lower crime rates, so much more automation than before... but sometimes I wonder, is it really worth the price?

"And what will happen as the population increases?  There will be more and more demand for soul energy, more and more trivial crimes will come to merit soul-execution to feed the growing demand, offences that barely merit even a fine today.  It can't end well."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Keaton said, and her headwings drooped.  "Beings always seem to get the short straw, poor guys."  Seth glanced at her, the jackal's eyes and the emotions she radiated indicated that she was completely sincere.  "Don't lose heart.  Surely someday they'll find an alternative energy source and things will pick up again."

"The way things look at the moment, the invention itself might cost you your soul.  Just to preserve the status quo," he said.  "But I guess it's either that or we'll turn around one day to find the Beings overthrowing us."

"You are in a dismal mood," Keaton clucked sympathetically.  "Hey, tell you what... Let's go down to the city gardens.  They'll be in full bloom right now, that'll take your mind off things.  Sound good to you?"

Seth, somewhat surprised to find someone who honestly agreed with him, accepted without hesitation.
He paid for the drinks and followed her as they made their way to the ornate park across the river.  It was a short walk so didn't bother with the bike, though he could have done if he'd wanted to.
Maybe later, if this turned into an actual, full-blown date.  He didn't use it much but there was a spare helmet in his bike and a ride through the countryside with a pretty girl on a beautiful day like this would be just the thing to lift his spirits...  The wolf-incubus smiled warmly at the thought.

Finding an empty spot on the park, the two 'Cubi lay side by side on a rocky outcrop and just relaxed, watching the aerostats come in to land in the distance.

"Try this," Keaton said, reaching over and offering him something hard, round and shiny.  He sat up and sniffed - sugar and artificial flavourings.  "Boiled sweets?" he asked.

"Sort of," the succubus replied with a grin.  "I make them myself.  No, not like that..." she added suddenly, as Seth tried to crunch down on it.  "Swallow it whole.  It has more of a kick that way."  Seth shrugged.  He wasn't particularly into mind-altering substances since the Academy but he acquiesced anyway, just to be polite.  The girl seemed nice enough, and in any case he should be able to throttle back his metabolism if the effects became stronger than he approved of.

Keaton examined one of the roses, shifting one of her wings into a tentacle and deftly severing the stem.  She made as if to pick it up, and accidentally caught the thorn.  "Aw shit," she said and grimaced, sucking her thumb.  Sethir stared at her.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?" the jackal replied, through a mouth full of thumb.

"I didn't feel any of your pain."

"Oh, that," she said offhandedly.  "Pierson projector in one of my earrings.  It cloaks your true emotions and projects fake..." she trailed off, her eyes narrowing at Seth's expression.  "Wait, you mean you don't have one?"

"Why would I want such a thing?" the wolf demanded.  "What purpose does such deceit serve?"

"For your crimes, of course," she said, and then laughed, her eyes widening.  "You... you really, actually believe all that shit about Beings getting a raw deal?  It wasn't just a pickup line or a show for the idiots in the pub?  What are you, like, six or something?"

"You... monster,"  Seth snarled.

"We're all monsters, dear," she told him.  "You're not a Being, you're not even a young 'Cubi anymore, so stop trying to think like one.  Just give it up - the strong rule and the weak can go screw themselves.  The sooner you realise it, the easier it will make things..."

Just then the boiled sweetmeat kicked in.  Seth gasped, suddenly realising what it was as the sugar crystal matrix dissolved inside him.  A burst of energy was released in his guts and the reflex kicked in, infusing his blood, his very being with newfound power.

"That was someones soul," he gurgled, viscera twisting, retching as he fought against both the rush and the strong urge to vomit.  But doing that would only bring up the remains of the sugar... it could do nothing for the unfortunate he'd just destroyed, absorbed into his own soul.  "Oh yes..." Keaton said, and her headwings quivered slightly, her half of their victim had just gone down the same way.

"Poor little Timmy won't be going home to dinner tonight, but he was certainly welcome to our meal!" she giggled.  The sound sent a chill down Sethir's spine.

"They say that the first time is the worst.  After that, it only gets easier.  You stop thinking of them as people.  And Beings aren't really people anyway, are they?
"So, now that you're finally starting to grow up and become a proper incubus, surely you... Glurkk!"

Keaton made a strange sound as Seth's gloved hands crushed her throat, twisting her neck.  The action had come swiftly, a sudden blossoming of the darkest, blackest fury that she had spotted only far, far too late and she scrabbled futilely against his riding gear.  One more inch or so and she'd be dead, her neck wrung like a chicken.
The wolf hesitated for just a moment and then his hands glowed.  Her body arched for a moment and collapsed limply, the glamour fading from her body and leaving her looking more like the crusty drifter that she was.

"It would be just," he told her, "Just for me to slay you now.  Or hand your soul over to the authorities - after all your crimes it would fetch me a handsome bounty and a small fortune in the soul auctions.  As you say, the first time is the hardest.
"But I refuse to let what you've tricked me into doing become a habit.  All the same, I'm sparing your life and your soul for one reason, and only one."  Being unconscious, the jackal did not reply.

Seth slung her across his back and cast a few spells.  She became invisible, as did the wing-tentacles of his that held her in place.  She'd be out for a couple of hours, or until he reversed the stun spell.  So long as he didn't bump her into anyone...

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?!" the guard yelled back in the tower of the council building.  Seth and Keaton looked at him with a start, their faces lined with frustration and... relief?

"How many times do I have to tell you people that the clock room is off-limits...?  Especially to you," he added, pointing an accusing finger at Sethir.

"I'm really sorry," Seth said, lowering his eyes.  "I know I promised that I wouldn't come here again, but... I had to!"  The succubus squeezed his hand.

"Oh no," the guard recoiled with horror.  "Sex in the clock-tower is a public indecency rap, 'Cubi or no.  You'll both have to come with me."

"You don't understand," Seth protested.  "This is my fiance.  I had to introduce her to my mother at least once before we marry."  The guard looked at him strangely, but relaxed somewhat.

"Alright," he said.  "And now you've done that, get the hell out of here and we'll forget it happened.  This time."

"Wait," the other guard said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Seth.  "Let me check the soul.  They might have sabotaged the clock somehow!"

A pair of wings appeared on his head and he concentrated for a second, lowering his mental defences slightly.  The headwings flapped out to full extent as he was suddenly battered by a great deluge of incoherent emotion emanating from the soul-crystal.  Hatred, anger, fury, grief and frustration - all of it directed at Sethir and his companion.

The incubus guard reeled, and Seth did too.  The jackal squeezed Seth's hand very tightly as if seeking reassurance.

Finally, Seth turned to face the crystal, hands on his hips.  "Oh yeah?!" he yelled at it, "Well, screw you too!"

"Mum didn't approve of the match," he sighed, looking at the guard sadly.
"You know what?  I don't think I'll bother coming back again any time soon.  "Let's go, dear..."  he added with a glance at Keaton.  So saying, he left the clock room with the succubus in tow.

"Suits me fine," the guard said, locking the clock room door behind him.  The two patrolmen glanced at each other with strange expressions and carried on with their duties.

"Come on, dear," the jackal said, as they wandered out of earshot, "Parents always feel this way about it.  Your mother will get over it.  Tell you what, let's go to the gardens!  The flowers are very beautiful this time of year..."

* * *

"I don't know, Seth," the border collie said wistfully, as she looked out over the ship's railings and into the sea.  "I mean, of course I'm glad to have a body again, but... what about that poor girl's soul?  Surely there must have been some other way..."

"Mum, Keaton was a rapist and a multiple soul-murderer," Seth said.  "If anyone ever deserved such a fate, she's got to be pretty high on that list.  Besides, they check that clock pretty regularly - I'd say they'll figure out that you've escaped in a couple of months at the most."

"And then what?  They'll let her go and someone else will end up in the clock!"

"...And if that's the mayor I'm not exactly going to shed any tears for him.  Look, maybe Keaton's lies will actually become true.  Maybe they will find some replacement for souls and the clock will become just that, a clock.  Or maybe the whole thing will be demolished in a war or some kind of Being uprising."

"I guess you're right," she said and ruffled his hair.  Their headwings were hidden, for while Zinvth did not have a soul-based economy like the Nhylamar region did, it didn't have much tolerance for 'Cubi either.  But that was a compromise they were more than happy to make.

[Tipod]

Souls? Pffftt, everyone knows opium was the drug of choice back in steampunk times.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Interesting use of passive voices. And I did like the decisive (semi-decisive, if Keaton's soul can be brought back) ending. You know, I might just try one for SI with Ked. *wanders off, musing*

[VAE]

Haha..

First i thought... "Why the hell is Keaton this nice? Now i see why she'll want  to kill ya."
Then "ah , allright"
Lastly "oh, NOW i see why she'll want to kill ya!"

All in all, neat story.....

One minor point, the scene changes confused me a bit and had me reread the part.. then it was fine.. might just be me being inattentive

[Tapewolf]

Interesting use of passive voices. And I did like the decisive (semi-decisive, if Keaton's soul can be brought back) ending. You know, I might just try one for SI with Ked. *wanders off, musing*

Thanks.  Passive voice and narration styles aren't something I really have a firm grasp on, it just... happens rather than being planned.  I haven't really been trained in its use, so suggestions and corrections are more than welcome there.

EDIT:

As for the ending, Bas wants to see a follow-up story, so there might be a sequel at some point.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Thanks.  Passive voice and narration styles aren't something I really have a firm grasp on, it just... happens rather than being planned.  I haven't really been trained in its use, so suggestions and corrections are more than welcome there.

Pet peeve of mine. Take these three pictures. If you went to any sort of art discussion, and said "Well, they're basically the same thing, they're all three pictures of people with bowls of fruit", you'd be laughed at. In art, form matters, and literature is no less a type of artwork, so form perhaps matters even more than actual substance. And while pinning down a "right" and "wrong" is kind of hard to do, not thinking about something, and just letting it "happen" is a bit, sloppy.

One exercise my teachers tossed at me, was to write a story (or, if you're pressed for time/energy, and/or don't like the idea of a forumite giving you homework ; a description) of the same thing over and over, but from different points of view, or different narration styles.

For instance, here are 4 different descriptions of the same tavern scene.


Keaton, the notorious jackal succubus, frustrated from her long and fruitless search for a Healer capable of helping her sister, stormed into the Nine Horse Hitch tavern, after dismissing Xianxi with an anatomically impossible suggestion. Waving a bit of silver, she quickly got the attention of the barkeep, and transfixed him with a baleful stare, before ordering a lengthy list of some of the strongest beverages up for sale. She wasn't in the mood for socialization, she wasn't there to enjoy the ambiance, she simply wanted to get herself drunk as quickly as possible. Half an hour into her attempts to drive herself into a stupor, one of the patrons, a brown mutt Being with more wine in his head than good sense, decided to ingratiate himself to the pretty new customer with a friendly slap on the rump. Keaton, quickly moved to rectify the being's terminal stupidity, and spun sharply on her heel, driving a kick into the Being's knee, and then quickly grabbing the offending appendage and breaking his elbow with a neat little inside armbar. She then pushed the being away, whose howls of pain were already fading from her consciousness, so she could return to her business of the night and getting herself as tanked as she'd ever been.


Keaton the black Jackal stormed into the dim and smoky tavern. More long and exhausting searches had come to nothing, and she needed the solace that she could most easily find at the bottom of an ale tankard. She waved some silver at the barkeep, and after doing her best to intimidate him, a task that long years of experience had taught her how to accomplish despite her small frame, she ordered enough hard liquor to hopefully drive her into unconsciousness. She had drank enough to get pleasantly buzzed, although not enough yet to drive her under, when a brown mutt being slapped her bottom. Keaton wasn't in the mood for it this evening, and reacted violently, spinning into a kick to the knee, and then advancing with an inside armbar, breaking the being's elbow. A final shove ended his unwatned attentions, and Keaton returned her focus back to her alcohol.

All the dust and the travel and the long stupid droning voices had given Keaton a horrific headache. Add in the pain in her left foot from the boot that wasn't on just right, and she was in a murderous mood, and decided to drown it in ale fumes. She had Xianxi drop her off at some bar, and when the little glowrat asked for further directions, told him to shove his tail so far up his ass that it'd come out of his mouth.  She had a little difficulty opening the thick, oaken door, and she could almost feel the barkeep's smirk as she strode up and leaned against the bar, and bored into him with her stare. She still wasn't quite sure what it was that made him gulp appreciatively, but it brought a nasty smile to her face, and she ordered the strongest drinks on the menu, and plunked enough coin on the counter to keep them coming. She was buzzing pleasantly when she felt a most unwelcome slap on her bottom, and without really thinking about it, she spun on her heel, long ago combat lessons taking over, as she kicked to the inside of a knee, and then advanced, grabbing his right wrist and elbow and pulling them in opposite directions until the bone snapped. She then shoved the ugly being to the floor, and went back to important business.

   The air in the tavern cooled slightly with the evening air as the newest patron entered. She was tiny, barely over five feet in height, but quickly ordered enough booze to put even the hardiest intestines to within an inch of their limits. Half an hour or so into the drinking binge, a dog being named Alfred hopped up, trying to ingratiate himself with the pretty newcomer. Being a rough, direct sort, he leaned forward, showing off his physique, and gave a friendly slap on her bottom. She reacted instantly with violence, and the next thing he knew, there was a sharp, ragged pain in his right arm, as the elbow was bent in a direction it was never meant to go, and he felt the back of his head hit the dirt floor, as he heard her say "another one.".



Now, I don't meant to say that you should ignore plot, setting, or character. In fact, if you managed to write a coherent story without any of those things, I'd be impressed. But the actual "how" the means of conveying the information to what you're envisioning to the reader, is a *vital* part of writing. If you really want to get good, you shouldn't just leave it as something unplanned.


Corgatha.