Tamaranis

I wouldn't dream of challenging you, Loremaster Tamaranis’ mental voice was, if anything, colder and more lifeless than his physical voice, devoid of sarcasm or sincerity. There was an uneasy silence, which was strange, because uneasy silences weren’t the norm with members of The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword. Since no one seemed to be taking command of the situation, Tamaranis stood up. “I should apologize for my actions during a recent altercation with some of the mercenaries. Those of you who haven’t heard about it probably will soon enough. I misjudged the situation.” “Your lack of judgement cost us a troop of Paladins.” Gyrfalcon noted bitterly. Unreasonable of them “To make up for the deficiency that opens in our defences I can order my personal guard to march to the Hostel. None of them are paladins, of course, but they are competent and disciplined,” Tamaranis offered. “And just what does your personal guard consist of, I should wonder?” Salinye suddenly stood up. “The last thing we need is another undead army skulking around my Hostel!” “My personal guard currently consists of sixty-seven living human soldiers.” Tamaranis sat back down, “I might be able to convince a dragoon or two to join in as well.”

Just a note here, I've PMed the world descriptions to Pillow. Now that I've gone and done it once, I might as well do it again. If anyone who can't see the AVV would like to submit a mission let me know, and I'll either PM or email you the descriptions of the worlds that have been submitted.

“Alright, go find a room in the underground. I’ll read over it and get back to you. ” Scarlot said distractedly as she read from three scrolls almost simultaneously. Ensifer lingered a moment, and when Scarlot showed no sign of noticing he was still there, he turned and left. Some time later, Scarlot worked her way through various arcana and paperwork to come to Ensifer’s application. It was short, so she decided she could give it quick read-over right now. She snickered a bit when she got to the part about a code of honour, but rationalized that no serious combatant would refuse to wear armour for honour’s sake alone. Whatever Ensifer claimed, everyone was at least something of a pragmatist, and he probably needed to be light and mobile the way he fought. The honour was just an afterthought. As for the magic, well, unfortunately everyone couldn’t be a mage. He was a healer of some sort, though with stitches and poultices or some form of magic apparently not forbidden to him, the application didn’t say. And fighting with two swords at once was a difficult thing to truly master. If Ensifer was as skilled as he seemed to think, he’d be useful, if not, he’d get himself killed. That would have to be resolved as soon as possible. Scarlot resolved to sent Ensifer on a mission soon, and accept him into the AVV if he survived.

Scarlot’s right hand twitched slightly, as if she were suffering from a nervous tick. Or almost going for a weapon. The sheer audacity of this… whatever, waltzing into her office with whatever shadows or magic. Applying, but presenting himself as a superior. He bowed, but seemed ironic about it. The dark, silent, lurking type was almost as bad as the overtly good and righteous type. They were at least as cocky. “You…” She started to say, her voice full of venom. But all the same, he had somehow slipped past her into her own office. At the very least he was good at being sneaky. And as much as she didn’t appreciate this little display, all the hero-types would probably find it just as aggravating. “…can pick a room in the underground.” She continued, “Your application will be under consideration.”

Now you've got me all worried about your health, Salinye...

That really sucks, Salinye. I really we there was something I could do, or the community could do, or something. But as Peredhil said, don't lose hope.

Stay tired an nauscious, Salinye!

When this happens, if I'm not online, someone contact via some other means, such as telephone, carrier pigeon, or psychic powers. So you're a samurai now? Every time we hear from you, you just get cooler and cooler.

I thought that there was a little more than this, but if this is all we have saved, we can pick it up again from here. Katz mentioned to me that Venefyxatu was interested in continuing this, and Black, Myself, and Katz, have all stated the same. So if we're all in agreement... Shall we ask to have this moved to the conservatory and simply pick it up again there? Also, I believe the original spirit of the story was that there simply was not anything being written at the old conservatory, and as such a random internet user stumbling upon it would simply move on, seeing no posts haveing been made in the last year or so, and so we created this story to keep the conservatory alive. (yeah, that worked great) with hopes that anyone encountering it would join in. That being the case, if once it begins moving again some one else wants to join the story, I say we let them.

After a quick cursory examination of the cannon of the “Dooker” tank Brygad came to the conclusion that it’s operation was fairly simply and he could fire it easily enough. To really be effective he’d need a little practice, to adjust to the tremendous difference in velocity between a stream of acid and a crossbow bolt. But he could do it. He also came to the conclusion that on the whole this “tank” was the most effective piece of siege machinery he’d ever laid eyes on, and he’d laid eyes on some very effective siege engines, many of them designed by himself. In the back of his mind ideas for countermeasures against Sharpein technology sprung up, unbidden. The habit of a professional mercenary and siege engineer. The thing about it was that he immediately dismissed most of the ideas as hopelessly ineffective, hopelessly elaborate, or hopelessly beyond his ability to construct. A modified trebuchet came to mind, that could fire stones at a low angle with consistent force, and with a skilled team, could be used to accurately against large objects on the ground. He’d built a similar device before, but this one would need further adjustment to be useful against Sharpeins. Some sort of coating to keep it’s operating mechanisms from seizing up if hit with one of those plaster bombs the sharpeins had mentioned. He didn’t know nearly enough about alchemy for that, he didn’t even know any alchemists who knew enough about alchemy to do that. And it would take a few of the plaster bombs to study as well. And the static net they’d mentioned. Maybe an alchemist could find something that would insulate against it’s effect, but probably a mage would be needed to prepare enchantments against it. And once again, that mage would need a few nets to study, or perhaps more than a few, magical research tended to be messy. It would take years before a prototype could be produced, maybe a decade to actually build something really useful. And by then the Sharpeins would probably have come up with entirely new problems for anyone on the other side... Brygad shook his head to clear the logistics from it. These... people were on his side, and it was probably going to stay that way. He didn’t need to worry about the nightmare that would be trying to bring the armaments of any army in the world up to the level the sharpeins were operating on. And at least he hadn’t seen any personal weapons in their possession as directly deadly and powerful as his own crossbow. At least he was still beating them there. As for the fact that he was discussing this with a clearly sentient and articulate, but also clearly canine creature, that would have thrown him off a few weeks ago, but stuff like this was standard around here, and it didn’t seem so unthinkable. “Well, I think before we ride this thing into a troop of zombies I’d like to take a few practice shots and get a feel for the weapon,” Brygad concluded. “I don’t know how effective acid with be against the undead though. Humans and most other living things are usually done for if they’ve got no skin left, but that sort of thing doesn’t really bother zombies. If we could get someone to sanctify the acid first, though, it would probably burn through zombies like parchment.” “We Sharpeins aren’t much for magic,” Mr. Pawell said, “And I’m not sure how mixing it with acid works.” “I’m not really much for magic, either,” Brygad admitted, “But most people around here are, I’m sure we can find someone who can cast a spell like that.” *** Several miles above the Might Pen Keep was a creature that looked very out of place so high in the air. It resembled a centipede, except that it was much larger, it’s body stretching out for nearly a hundred meters. The other notable way it diverged from the garden-variety centipede was that it’s many legs seemed to somehow find purchase in thin air. A few decades ago, over a century of effort on the part of Tamaranis had paid off, resulting in a curse being removed from their race. He didn’t directly control the dragoons, but out of a sort of loyalty several still served him. Because they were such useful creatures, he rarely requested that they participate in combat, the risk of losing one was too great. Instead, they gathered information more quickly and efficiently than even the supernatural senses of an archmage were capable. This dragoon was currently observing the happenings at the walls of the keep. It’s keen senses allowed it to observe the details of what was going on, and its psionic ability allowed it to keep track of the motivations of those involved. Another effect of its psionic ability was that it could rapidly transmit the images and feelings it was perceiving to Tamaranis. Tamaranis responded with a sort of vague amusement at the notion of such a creature as Black attempting an assault against the keep, but nothing else.

Also you can't summon a stack of devils, you cast Contract of the Soul and if some one attacks you or you do a counter thousands of devils show up on your side... I foget how many, but they basically wipe out two of the opposing mage's stacks, and quite likely any stack they happen to counter as well. That happens once or twice and then you have no people in your country.

Yes

Evolution doesn't really work quite that way... There's no rule that it's got to go in any one particular direction... There's no such thing as de-evolution. What people think of as being "de-evolution" is actually regular evolution. Evolution is really just change in the genetic makeup of a species over time. The term doesn't actually imply the species is somehow getting better. Usually it means the species is becoming better adapted to survive its environment, but not always. What I'm saying here is that if evolution pushes humans to resort to violence more quickly than they do now this is not some sort of bizarre reverse, evolution, it's just evolution. Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean that people will necessarily become stupid, just less likely to use the thinking power they've got. Evolution is very slow to remove a trait that doesn't affect the survival rate in either direction. As for the rest of the world evolving to become more reasonable... I don't really see that there's any selective pressure for that. Hotheads kill cool-headed people as often as they get into trouble resulting in their own deaths, I think. Just like we're not about to get any smarter. It's not like dumb people don't have kids... We could conceivably diverge into an intelligent and an unintelligent form of human over a few tens or hundreds of thousands of years. I think both forms of human would probably be quite aggressive and hostile and the smarter ones would probably kill off the dumb ones. A series of such species divergences and extinctions could push us to be a little smarter, but as a single species we're not going to just start levitating stuff around the room one day... Of course the whole scenario is extremely unlikely because as I said before, diverse genomes tend to have the advantage and it's starting to look like if too many of the "smart" genes end up in one person it leads to a variety of mental disorders unless there's a few "dumb" ones along for the ride. I guess the point I'm really trying to make here is: Don't hold out for humanity to evolve into something better, because it's not going to happen any time soon. I tend to run off topic, sometimes...

I'm gonna take what Peredhil said about genetics way back third post or so and kinda run with it here. There is a certain instinct to destroy, isolate, etc, those who are different. I wouldn't chalk this up to a desire to be surrounded with genomes similar to your own, though, for two reasons. The first is that in people of the opposite gender a certain amount of difference from the norm is often desirable. We are attracted to things that are "exotic." The second reason is that more genetically diverse populations in general seem to have better survival odds. What I suggest instead is that people (of the same gender) are seen as a threat if they are different because they are attractive to the opposite gender and are therefore creating a lot of competition for mates. In our society now the gender walls to this sort of thinking break down a little because of social roles and all sorts of things more complicated for us than for randomly wandering groups of pack animals. Just a thought. On the note of might makes right... no one thinks that who doesn't have the might. Maybe some guy is bigger than you and the thinks that if he pounds you into the ground to make you agree with him then it's okay because he was able to do it. If he were trying to pound some one into the ground and that person were to suddenly begin stabbing or shooting him, he would most likely not think that because this other person has the power to do so that makes it okay. The "might makes right" attitude is really very hypocritical.

The consumption of Silent Hill by a plague of undeath happened so suddenly that it was completed before it was detected. Tendrils of darkness spread out from it in the form of patrols of zombies and wraiths, but didn't extend very far. Except for one tendril. A single vampire of significant power moved away from the necropolis of Silent Hill and approached the Mighty Pen keep, following the trail of one called Anna. It was this particular tendril that was first noted. Unknown to Black, tendrils of darkness already covered much of the Mighty Pen keep and its surrounding area. This was a darkness different from his master, a sublter one that did not darken the day, but rather hid from the light. These subtler tendrils, however, where not unaware of Black. When the vampire moved across them their dark energy resonated from the proximity of his own, and that resonance flowed up the tendrils to their source. In a spire of black stone, easily visible from the walls of the Pen Keep, Tamaranis was alerted to Black's movements and his attention was turned in that direction. *** It seemed to Brygad that everyone but him was in on this little mindspeak club. He was regreting that right now. Even though she probably knew it already, he wished he had some silent way to warn her to be wary of that creature, and to try and give him a clear shot if it suddenly attacked. Normally he'd be quite confident in his ability to put a bolt through the demon before it got anywhere near Tanuchan, but he'd just missed, something that happened very rarely, and it unnerved him. He'd never met a creature from the Abyss that he hadn't had to kill in defence of his own life. Granted those creatures had been summoned by demonologists and were only following summoner's orders, but they had all seemed to take a delight in doing so.

That's any Canadian politician in the last 30 years for ya...

Yes! Canada gets Finnius!

That sounds like a challenge, Tanuchan!

'kay. Decided to go with a random name, so "Kilm" Ironically I picked random specialty and got nether. I don't remember how to play. That is all.

Yeah, can you believe Falcon called in a read a poem? Or Yui read the short version of He Always Keeps His Promise? Or Wyvern hosts the whole thing?

When Yanyan ran off to search for reinforcements, Brygad did the only reasonable thing he could think of and start folding out his bow. If Brygad was supposed to keep it busy while Yanyan got help, he couldn’t think of any better way to do that than punching the demon full of holes. Brygad worked quickly, with tremendous dexterity born of a great deal of experience. The mass of steel, wood, and wire on his back rapidly transformed from a silly looking bundle of steel, wood and wire to an enormous crossbow. Once it was in firing-form, he began the process of winding it. Despite being a fairly strong man, and his arms having wound the bow many times in the past, the draw weight of the crossbow was too great to wind it on the move, so Brygad remained in the courtyard. After the first set of arms were locked he stayed where he was and continued winding, the demon didn’t seem to be attacking just yet, and there was no point in rushing into a combat with a demon while anything less than fully prepared. Only when the second set of arms and the return spring were locked as well did Brygad ascend the battlements, turning the enormous crossbow sideways in order to get it up the stairwell. When he did reach the top, several scholars were standing on the battlement watching the demon with great interest and far less fear than was normal in situations like this. The Pen had no garrison to speak of. Brygad snapped the bow to his shoulder, braced himself, and looks through its sight at the demon. The creature was clearly what Venessa had claimed it to be, a demon. Brygad fired. Simultaneously, the demon stood from its crouching position and the earth gave an unexpected heave. The result was that the demon staggered slightly, moving its centre of mass, and Brygad’s point of aim jumped a little in the opposite direction. A bolt could have been used as a light javelin hurtled just over the beast’s left shoulder and embedded itself nearly the full length of the shaft into the earth a few yards from where the creature stood. A series of loud “clunking” noises were emitted from Brygad’s crossbow, and the firing arms were drawn back into the locked position as another bolt loaded. Even more interesting, however, was the way the bolt in the earth next to the Demon began to move toward it. The “why” but not the “how” of this phenomenon was quickly revealed as a pit seemed to materialize about the creature. Earth seemed to rush toward it and disappear, dropping the creature into a rapidly deepening hole in the ground.

The thing I see wrong with Kerry is that he seems to like citing everything that's gone wrong in Iraq and then saying "If I had been president at the time, then that wouldn't have happened." I mean, unless he's going to personally go over there review and reorganize security, and do a better job of it than the military experts are already doing, I don't think him being present will make things run any smoother over there.

In the quarters Brygad had been assigned while his application with the AVV was pending, seemingly indefinitely, he carefully examined the device that had been described as a silver plated shatterbolt. He had no doubts as to the effectiveness of it at this point. It was most definitely made of silver, and it would most definitely shatter on penetration, with messy results for the target. He was more concerned now with how to create his own, scaled-up version of this weapon for his own use. The business end on these bolts was designed quite well, so well that Brygad was considering stealing it and keeping a case of shatterbolts handy for special situations. The shaft was the standard though, which mean it was too short to fire from his own bow and liable to snap anyway if he adjusted it for shorter bolts. The shafts were narrower than the ones he used, too, which meant it would be tricky to remove the heads from the shatterbolts and attach them to his own. He could do it of course, it’d just be a pain. It was so inconvenient that undead don’t die if you just drive a spike through them. A vampire would usually go down if you stuck anything wooden in its heart, which was useful, but it had to stick there. That meant keeping the velocity of the bolt low enough so that it wouldn’t carry on clear through the creature’s body. Killing stuff that was still alive was so much easier... “Ah well, better go ask that Yanyan guy if he can get his people to make me custom bolts,” Brygad muttered to himself, giving up on finding an easy way to adapt the silver shatterbolts to his weapons. “maybe they’ll even give me a lesson on how to make my own.” He doubted that, though. Mercenaries worked well together when they had the same employer, or employers with the same goal, often times to the detriment of said employer’s personal wealth, but stuff like these shatterbolts was usually treated as a trade secret. You kept your special talents special, that way you get hired instead of some other chump. “Worst case scenario, I’ll just have to stick to my own stuff.” Brygad thought, “it’s not like that‘s so bad.” He picked up one of his own, large crossbow bolts to serve as an example of the appropriate dimensions, and considered his crossbow. He didn’t normally walk around with it, as it was bloody heavy and truth be told looked somewhat foolish until it was completely set up. He didn’t really feel like hauling the weight all over the keep, but then again if the threat proved to be a serious one he felt even less like being attacked and nowhere near his favourite weapon. He brought it along. Walking through the halls of The Mighty Pen Keep he was once again amazed by the diversity of creatures that dwelt here in addition to the usual scholars and poets. When first he’d heard of this place, he’d thought it would have a desperate need of talented mercenaries, as a bunch of artisans could hardly be counted on to defend themselves. He was becoming aware now that talented as he was, he was but the smallest drop in the enormous bucket of power The Pen had at its disposal. Despite their claim that “The Pen is Mightier than the Sword,” this guild could crush any military force Brygad had ever been in any way associated with. At least two vampires were members of the guild. There was also a dragon or two, and if he understood correctly this “Dreamer” character that he had yet to see was a force to be reckoned with. And there were any number of mages of apocalyptic power. No, he doubted that a single vampire, or a single anything that wasn’t a god for that matter, could prove any real threat to this keep. Still, best not to drop his guard entirely. You just never knew, it seemed. “Ah, you must be Yanyan.” Brygad greeted the Red Wolf clan mercenary, who was currently attempting to convince Katzaniel that a repeating crossbow loaded with silver shatterbolts would be more effective than her own spear, and having very little success. “I hear you’re preparing us to face off against a vampire lord.” “Hah, well, I don’t think he’ll give us too much trouble, I nearly killed him myself, earlier, but he might not be the only thing we’re up against, so I’m making sure we’re ready.” Yanyan responded, “here to help?” “Yeah, the name’s Brygad,” Brygad explained, “I really like the look of these shatterbolts, but I’ve got a custom bow that I’ve gotten pretty used to, and it looks like the standard shatterbolt just isn’t going to fit it. There any way you can get me a handful of longer bolts?” “It’s in your best interest to arm yourself with a crossbow that can fire the shatterbolts we’ve got.” Yanyan said, “Silver is usually a pretty good bet against vampires, I can get you a Red Wolf Clan bow if you need one, I’m sure they’re of the quality you’re used to.” This Yanyan fellow seemed to be pretty willing to take command, as well as pretty sure he knew best, or at least better than everyone else. Still, if a mercenary had some actual experience and was both still alive and still possessed of that attitude it usually meant it was at least somewhat justified. “Eh, no thanks on the account of the bow. I can probably modify a few bolts myself, and if it comes down to it, one way or another I’m not going to need more than two.”

Yay for third parties!

It's not like I'm going to just write something deliberately silly to the point of being incomprehensible, though it might turn out that way. I'm not going to just keep typing out the next random though until I've got a file that's grown out of all proportion to become a 50K blob of meaningless text. I think the point is to actually take an idea that might normally work and make a respectable novel, and then write it out with all possible speed such that it cannot possibly manifest as a respectable novel, and will contain glaring inconsistencies in the plot, but will still have a plot. Notionally.