Writing Prompts

A spot for collections of Outsider-related original fan fiction and related works.

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Onaiom
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Onaiom »

Alex could try to explain the Blue People Trope that is present in many works of fiction:

http://well-of-souls.com/outsider/blue_peoples.html

Beryl would love to read that list.

novius
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by novius »

"The answers to future's questions might lie in the past."
Bedlam.

That's one way to describe what ensued in the 'mindscape', as Alex started to call their shared consciousness.

Of course Alex tried to play down the issue, adding that there are many and wildly varying accounts about elves but on Tempo's insistence he admitted, that, yes, this one seems to be the predominant picture, one of tall, somewhat alien-looking but hauntingly beautiful and long lived people.

That was all ge got out before he was starting to get drowned out by three telephatic voices calling out at once.

Beryl, being completely mortified - though slightly gleeful, too - that his first picture would feature her. Trying to downplay a bit, Alex widened his 'view' to include more depictions of elves - male and female alike.

Fireblade as well, to the lesser extent - Alex got the impression that very rarely people would attribute 'beauty' as the predominant description on her - but only because her prowess as a warrior outshines her physical attraction, he was hasty to assure her, as he felt her picking up on his stray thought.

Note to self, Alex thought, Loroi can be a bit vain. Oops, he added, as he felt Fireblade taking a deep breath in mock-outrage.

Tempo... he could feel her examining the pictures and the stray thoughts attached to them closely.

Stray thoughts followed, a 'discussion' which was too fast-paced for Alex's untrained mind to follow. He could feel the beginnings of a headache forming.

It was Tempo's highly organized mind that brought back some calm to the turmoiled mindscape, by ... he felt her focusing on one of his pictures of a male elf.

That's eerie..., he heard her clear thought directed at him, this one looks even more similar to our males than you would do. More graceful, slimmer build... it is hard to believe that humans just thought this up out of nothing.

It's..., Alex started, ...look, can we continue this verbally? You've seen what you came here for, and it's beginning to strain me.

Beryl was eager to agree, with Tempo and Fireblade following suit, although much more reluctantly.

On opening his eyes, he found himself framed by the three Loroi - Tempo sitting sideways on a seat in his front, turned towards him - all of them looking at him in various state of shock and wonder, and, in Tempo's case, maybe a tinge of regret.

"I see now why you had reservations of showing this particular picture and I offer my sincerest apologies for intruding on what you consider sacrosanct." On Beryl's questioning glance, Tempo elaborated. "Given that humans have no direct experiences with sanzai, they consider their own thoughts to be a highly private matter. So much that even the thought of intruding upon then triggers an instinctive fear, I surmise. Count yourself to be honored that he agreed to your experiment from the start."

"No lasting harm done", Alex placated Tempo, "But you see why I didn't want to open that particular can of worms."

"It's still hard to believe that humans would think up a species as works of fiction that looks that closely related to us.... what would be the probability in that?", Beryl mused.

"Well..", Tempo reached for a lock of her hair, "...as same as us finding a species that looks as if they are closely related to us. Perhaps it is time to shed light on the other half of the mystery. Beryl, if you would?"

Unnoticed by the four, even Reed and Flint leaned forward to listen in, curious on how that alien managed to send three warriors into a profound state of shock.

And with that, history and xenobiology class was in session. Beryl proved herself to be as diligent as a teacher when it came to him learning to read and write Loroi trade, but for the next half of a hour she spun an amazing tale about an ancient spacefaring civilization, spreading life in the rimward section of the galaxy (relative to Earth), patterned after a specific peculiar biology ('Soia-Liron', Alex thought, '"Liron" means "blue", figures'), but, not designing new species from scratch, but fashioning new lifeforms after existing examples.

Tempo dug in her bag and pulled out a tablet, where she quickly displayed a picture of a Barsam and a Nibiren, side by side.

It didn't take long for Alex to connect the dots. Neither Beryl nor Tempo needed to point out the obvious conclusion.

"...that explains much", Alex concluded. Of course, were some alien to land on Earth and humans have to come to the conclusion that they were sort of rip-offs from that alien, there'd be an uproar from all sorts of religious and non-religious nutcases. "How far-spread is ... this knowledge and how would your people react to the suspicion that humans could be their 'template species'?"

"Disbelief." Tempo offered. "Rejection. For millennia, the Loroi took a preeminent place in the Union because we thought ourselves to be the holders of the Soia legacy. Your people appearing on the scene could cause the status quo to be questioned."

"Like Captain Mozin did, back on board the Tempest? Why make my existence public when it would be such a bombshell to be dropped?" Alex couldn't resist to butt in.

"It was a calculated move. We were all suspicious of you, thinking to be trickery of The Enemy, Stillstorm chiefly amongst it. She was only minutes away from having you seized and dragged off to the nearest airlock - to be blasted into pieces along with the wreck of your ship. I needed to put her into a position where she simply cannot do so without facing repercussions. Trickery or not, we were not to squander any opportunity your presence might offer."

"Gutsy", Alex admitted, "that's how you made number one on Stillstorm's hate list."

"Hate... list", Tempo tried that phrase - Alex was glad he censored his speech a bit, since he got the feeling that Tempo would much more insist on proper poise and diction than, say, Fireblade, "interesting way to put it. Given the remote chance that you are the genuine article, Stillstorm couldn't be allowed to throw away such a chance. Whatever repercussions we might face on realizing that there is a template species related to us... it would be much, much worse if there is a template species, one that achieved spaceflight all on its own and we managed to get off on the wrong foot with them. In addition, while it is easy to face a species as alien to us as the shells are as The Enemy, it would be, I have to admit, a much harder sell if it ever would have come to that with a species that looks that similar to actually be physically attractive to us."

He was grateful for the momentary privacy of his thoughts when Tempo's last words registered in his brain. It took a moment to bring his mind back from the track of teenage fantasies - and tried to bury the thought that in his eyes the Loroi he met so far were in the range from 'attractive' to 'stunningly beautiful'.

On a sidelong glance towards Beryl he saw the tips of her ears having turned a deeper shade of blue.

"Well... erm...", Alex hemmed and hawed - that conversation turned in a direction he was definitely a bit uncomfortable with - and Beryl, too, by the looks - and cleared his throat.

"I think the question whether you Loroi are bioengineered based on humans or based on human imagination might be moot at that point." he mused.

"Or your ancestors saw ours", Fireblade cut in, to everyone's surprise.

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Werra
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Werra »

"What do you mean, Fireblade?" replied Alex.

Fireblade seemed a bit uneasy with having to speak while every Loroi was focused on her and the creeping hoarseness in her voice reminded Alex why. "The Soia Liron was spacefaring. If some came to your planet and created Loroi then, your ancestors saw our ancestors. Yours stayed behind and became humaniti."

While Alex considered that, Beryl happily injected another of her lessons. "A pre fall contact would have been at least 500.000 earth years ago. I can see how a naturally evolved species can change over that timespan. Perhabs modern humaniti is not the template species, but the cousin of the template."

'I should have paid more attention in biology', thought Alex, but he tried answering his best with what little he remembered. "That theory could be true. 500.000 years ago there were still different humanoids on earth. From genetic analysis we know they even interbred."
Later Alex would have sworn that Tempos ears actually jerked up with that last word. But right now his attention was taken by Beryl which immediately and enthusiastically pressed him for more info on mankinds past.

Luckily for Alex Tempo interjected, before Beryl could drain him fully. „That is all truly fascinating and we will certainly want to study humanitis history in great detail, but right now we don't seem to be getting anywhere. Since we will be on this shuttle for a while still, I would like to use this time to teach you some Sanzai discipline. Your natural Lotai is formidable, but once telepathic contact was established, you were remarkably open.“

Alex regretted the sidelook he gave Beryl at this, since he could feel his face getting warmer immediately. 'How much did these Loroi read from him' he wondered. He also worried how much more Parat Tempo would learn during this training. As if she had read his apprehension, Tempo added with an emphasizing hand to her chest: „I assure you that we will handle this matter with discretion. Loroi also need to learn these lessons. We all know how being easily read feels. I advise you to practice before you meet many more Loroi and I am sure any Loroi on this ship will gladly help you. But I am the most qualified to teach you.“

Alexshrugged and looked around the room. Fireblade seemed sympathetic and Alex was reminded of the vivid and unpleasant images he had received from her. Flint, Reed and the Loroi that brought him the shoes seemed relaxed or busy with themselfes. Only Beryl looked apprehensive but she didn't say anything.

„Well, best if I learn your customs sooner than later. How do we start?“
I'm not a native english speaker. Ideal for writing Loroi verbal communication.

novius
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by novius »

Excellent continuation. Could not resist to tack on to it even if I'm out of turn :)



Tempo's gaze sort of turned inward, and slight nods by the other Loroi told Alex that they had come to an agreement... or a conclusion they all agreed on.

"There are two aspects of sanzai: Power and finesse. While Fireblade is unarguably the most powerful of the Loroi present, her mental exercises mostly focused on mental combat..."

'You don't say', Alex thought.

"...and while a Listel's highly organized mind might be a boon when it comes to data collection and retention..."

Beryl beamed at that indirect praise of her abilities.

"... when it comes to the intricacies of sanzai - or telepathy, as you named it, would fall unto a Mizol. It would be no false praise when I say that of all the Loroi present here I would be the best suited for giving basic and some advanced lessons in sanzai."

"Uh... if I am to carry around even Loroi state secrets, do these lessons include editing the memories to show?"

Tempo smiled. In a way Alex likened it to the smile of a cat having eaten the canary.

"They would. But I trust you to not to use these particular lessons on any of us. After all, with me teaching you these tricks, I am sure I could tell my own handiwork in your thoughts."

"...Message understood", Alex acquiesced.

"Furthermore, your Lotai tends to make things ... interesting. At the moment, you're completely blank to us... again."

Alex looked down. True to form, his hands - and other parts of his exposed skin - were free.

"I think I have an idea. Perhaps now that I have a feeling how it works, skin-to-skin contact with one of you might open the connection... and extend my 'Lotai' to the other person, unless it's Fireblade - she's the strongest around, right? Perhaps she sort of acts like a booster to my signal so that others would pick me up when I'm in contact with her."

Fireblade blinked, completely taken off-guard, and looked askance at Beryl and Tempo, who nodded, then she reached out with her hand.

Just before closing his eyes and touching Fireblade's cool skin, Alex could make out Beryl's slightly disgruntled expression - much like a child would look when she had been told that she would have to share the piece of cake with her sister.

Again, darkness. A single mote of light, forming into Fireblade's outline.

A stab of feeling uncomfortable, but not the episode of overwhelming fear.

Slowly but surely he started to 'feel' the other Loroi around him.

Beryl, a softer glow. Alex felt her being positively giddy at the prospect of learning all she could from him, and more.

And then, Tempo. Where Fireblade was an outline, bright enough to wash out any details, Tempo's ... mind-image? Avatar? ... was richly detailed.

Further away, he felt some stirrings in the distance. Reed? Flint? Talon? Spiral? Alex couldn't be sure.

'We're not touching you', he received a thought, unmistakably Tempo's.

'Seems you're right. Perhaps it takes considerable power to transmit Sanzai through your Lotai, power Fireblade provides', Beryl added.

'Interesting.'

Figures, even using Sanzai Fireblade seems to be very much the strong, silent type.

Bouts of sputtering, one indignant, two rather mirthful, told him that that thought was not as private as he guessed as he was jolted back into the material world, meeting a glare that promised painful retribution, and two other Loroi who tried best to not to burst out laughing.

Tempo took a deep breath, slowly regaining her composure, and then offered her hand in the same manner as Fireblade did, making her intent clear.

More hestitantly, Alex reached out for Tempo's hand and closed his eyes and plunged into the darkness again.

Tempo was already waiting for him, and Alex idly wished that would happen with Beryl, too, in the future.

'You are attracted to her, are you not?'

There's no evading that direct question. Especially not with Alex's skills, or lack thereof, compared to Tempo's.

'Yes.... yes, I am', he admitted.

'Fear not. In fact, that could actually turn out to be a boon. I have the theory that your Lotai is a subconscious defense that you can choose to lower if you are familiar with the other person and implicitly trust her. If you don't, your Lotai would be the first defense, and if it is in danger to be breached, the panic episode you felt is the second line of defense. To get away from the offending telepath. It remains to be seen how far your consciousness can lower your Lotai, especially if you get intimately familiar with someone.'

Even in sanzai her diction is nothing less than flawless, Alex thought.

'Why, thank you', he felt a wave of amusement coming from her.

'Uh... my pleasure. And... makes sense, in a strange way. Wait, are you telling me that I ... and Beryl...', Alex tried to chase away the mental images Tempo's words conjured up, images that featured Beryl and him, in various situations and equally various states of undress. Of course, whoever tried not to think of the proverbial pink elephant...

'Now that's an original way to divert your thoughts. I gather this is a large land mammal native on Earth, and its coloring is decidedly off?'

'Uh, yes...' Pink elephants, think pink elephants, think.... Beryl, in pink lingerie.... damnit!

'Anyway, let's start with the lesson - this one seems a bit redundant, giving your Lotai, but it is something every Loroi child starts out with: Trying to shield your own mind, deciding which thoughts to send and which are kept private, as well as not getting flooded by another mind....'

Beryl noticed Alex's face turning red. Puzzled for a moment, she remembered that humans bleed red, not blue, so him going red would mean....

'What did Tempo made him think to make him being that embarrassed?', she asked herself.

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Werra
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Werra »

Glad you picked up on the inspiration.

But...there isn't really a turn order in this thread, is there?

novius
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by novius »

Werra wrote:Glad you picked up on the inspiration.

But...there isn't really a turn order in this thread, is there?
Nope, not really :) Just a self-imposed guideline for me to not to post twice in a row :)

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Werra
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Werra »

Works for me. It's Friday evening and time to party.
To her relief the moment passed quickly and Alex face returned to its normal colour. In fact his face proved to be a most promising object of observation in the following few hundred solon. After a while Beryl was able to guess from his mimic when Tempo made him try something out or when he let something embarassing slip again. Apart from a few stray thoughts escaping from Alex here and there, the Mizol kept word and the conversation between the two private. So Beryls curiousity couldn't be sated until they were off this crowded shuttle. Though he had a most curious look in his eye when he opened them again.

„As you have already found out with that lightly dressed elephant of yours, it is of no use trying to not think of something.“ At this Alex was certain that Tempo was mocking him, but almost as soon as he thought it, he became aware of the playful undertones that seeped through.

She continued: „That just pushes whatever you're trying to hide into the forefront of your mind. Instead, try to emphasize other impressions and memories. Allow me to demonstrate.“

After that Tempo seemed to concentrate for a moment before Alex received an image of a large bonfire with several dozen young looking Loroi surrounding it. The mood was festive yet also strangely sorrowful.

„This is the day my diral passed the trials to adulthood. What you received is my general mood of that evening.“ Now that she mentioned it, Alex realised he saw the scene from behind the eyes of one of the Loroi, apparently Tempo.

„If I don't want others to hear of my grief that night, I can focus on other aspects of that memory, like the happiness.“ And Alex could not pick up any negative feelings in the images he received anymore.

„Here is what it looks like to us when you concentrate on not thinking of something.“, this time Alex picked up playfulness as soon as Tempo said that. She reacts quickly, thought Alex in a hopefully hidden part of his mind.

This time Alex saw a young, blonde Loroi with short hair running a few meters from Tempo over a ..giant, slimy mushroom. He heard Tempos voice saying:“Don't think of her fall.“ In the humid air Tempos clothes stuck uncomfortably to her sweaty body.“Don't think of it.“ They had been chasing a prey animal for a while now and then the young Loroi, lost her footing and went right over the edge of the mushroomhead. Panic, fear, then sharp pain and finally nothing anymore. She was gone.

Tempos voice shook him out of his morbid fascination:“ As you can see, Captain Jardin, the thoughts do get through and once they do, they often carry inappropriate details with them.“

Like your chest heaving against wet clothes was Alex first association to that, which he could not stop in time. Tempos next words made him sharply feel that.

„Indeed, our communication is thus very direct, truthful and open. Every Loroi learns a certain amount of tact and discretion. So I do hope that you keep this particular memory intimate between us.“

Krulle
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Re: Writing Promp

Post by Krulle »

SpoilerShow
'Does your humaniti meditation techniques also have some stories for quieting down your minds? Tempo's sending came.

'Yes, although not many come to mind.' Alex replied.

'Try them, one after the other. I'll be listening in, and tell you what makes your sending clearer, quieter, louder, or other effects.'

Alex took a deep breath. 'One.' He slowly exhaled. He inhaled again. Two.' And then he heard it. Tempo was giggling. He opened his eyes, and she really sat there giggling.

"Sorry," Tempo said, "but this came unexpected. Your sending became less cluttered, clearer. Less stray thoughts, but you also caused something I last experienced when I was a lot younger."

Beryl looked astonished at her superior, who was still not able to suppress the giggling. Tempo looked back. Alex felt them communicating, although he was not able to understand anything. And then Beryl started laughing. Loudly. Very loudly.

She gasped while gulping down air, and between her laughter she said "Stop, Enzin. Ha ha ha! Stop kietza us!"

Alex looked dumbfounded at the two Loroi, giggling and laughing, and apparenly slowly losing control.

Fireblade concentrated obviously, and then said to Alex: "Kietla is a childrens game. They poke fingers at each other until one starts laughing. Kietza basically is the same, just using Sanzai, without physical contact. If succesful, the loser usually automatically starts reflexively to kietza the others too. Often resulting in whole playing groups laughing until they are exerted. I'm currently concentrating hard to embolster my Lotai."

Alex looked dumbfounded at Fireblade. "You mean I accidentally tickled them?"

"Yes."

"How do you stop that?"

"How do you stop, when you're being 'tickled'?" she asked back.

'Forcibly stopping the other', he thought. But that would maybe work, except that he did not do anything. Knowingly at least. And he was not physically tickling them.

And if someone was in a laughing fit, you need to calm them down.
But how?

Counting to ten actually caused this. So what else? Sitting down and holding still. Letting your eyes wander across the visible landscape, while taking deep breaths....

He closed his eyes, and thought of a small glade he once visited with his parents. Long ago. But the small, quiet lake, the tall trees, and the general calmof the place.

He grabbed Beryl's and Tempo's hands, and tried to keep that quiet image in mind. And it seemed to work.

Then he remember why else he loved that place so much.

It was where he and his first girlfriend first discovered each other's body.

And how much he'd love to see Beryl there.

Well, that image made them all stop giggling.

"Mission achieved" a bright red Alexander said, and looking at a deep blue Beryl.
Edit. Dang, got ninja'ed. Put my text in a spoiler, but won't delete it for now.
Vote for Outsider on TWC: Image
charred steppes, borders of territories: page 59,
jump-map of local stars: page 121, larger map in Loroi: page 118,
System view Leido Crossroads: page 123, after the battle page 195

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Werra
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Werra »

I like it. Short and a good piece of worldbuilding. I do wonder however how long this thread will refrain from rising in age rating.

Krulle
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Krulle »

Hence we moved from themain forum to a sub forum... ;)
Well, I'm a tad too tired to keep away from those images....

I liked your story too... Going to bed, so not continueing yours either... For now.
Vote for Outsider on TWC: Image
charred steppes, borders of territories: page 59,
jump-map of local stars: page 121, larger map in Loroi: page 118,
System view Leido Crossroads: page 123, after the battle page 195

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Hālian
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Hālian »

Loving the story so far. I'm tempted to join in, but my writing skill is still at "uninstall league you fucking feeder", so I'll merely note that <k> does not feature in the orthography of standard Loroi Trade. :P
Image
Don't delay, join today!

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orion1836
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by orion1836 »

First off, I wanted to say that you all are doing a fantastic job. I never expected this to take off the way it has.

Second I wanted to put in my own prompt, separate from this story line. The original concept of this thread was to follow along the lines of Reddit's Writing Prompts, mainly because while I can think of great concepts, I rarely have the time to flesh them out.

I'm a big fan of the old 'lost in another world' sci-fi trope, (making it no surprise that I like Outsider). One good example is the Dungeon Series, where a good old-fashioned Stiff Upper Lip British explorer gets drawn into a very alien world and has to survive on his own wits and abilities as well as those of the friends he makes along the way.

Along those lines, here's one that just came to me this morning.
12 October 1777

Nathanial Hutchins set out at first light, fording the icy fog surrounding the family's homestead in search of a tree that had fallen in in the middle of the night. By the sound, a massive thunderclap that had set the little one to crying, it had to have been a behemoth. Venturing into the woods of the Ohio Frontier alone was a risky proposition, but Nathan had no other choice. Winter was fast settling in and the family needed every bit of firewood he could find. His father's axe was too big for the thirteen year-old to carry comfortably, but over the past year he had grown accustomed to its awkward bulk. Joining it today, though, was something he rarely carried: the second of his father's muskets. Ordinarily, Nathanial would leave it at home - a last line of defense while he was away - but recent Shawnee attacks required additional caution.

The family's other long gun, a Brown Bess, had followed Nathan's father into war nearly two years ago. The boy wished, as he often did, that he could have followed as well. He had tried to become a drummer, but a sound thumping from his father (along with one administered to the recruiter!) had put a stop to that. On account of his age, as well as his mother and two sisters, he'd had to stay at the homestead.

Since then, they'd had only sporadic word of how the war was going, and none of his father.

While looking for the tree, Nathan figured he'd check the various traps and snares set out along the perimeter of the homestead. He didn't relish the thought of tangling with a wounded animal, but food was food, and he always had his hatchet and prized long knife, just in case. If he was lucky, there would be a nice fat rabbit for dinner today and a new fur for his sisters' blankets in a couple weeks.

The woods were quiet. Not unusual for this time of morning but for a moment, it seemed as if even the air stopped moving. The fog closed in, becoming thicker, and thicker... so dense that Nathan could barely see his hand as he raised it in front of him to ward off low branches. As he stumbled forward, the gray finally subsided, pulling back to reveal the wood. The boy blinked to clear his eyes, sensing that something was off.

The trees were... different somehow. The moss was clearly growing on the wrong side. A morning bird let out a piercing cry; it was unlike anything he had ever heard before.

Nathanial stopped dead in his tracks amidst strange blue-green grass. This was a very different forest than the one he entered, in a very different river valley.

1779 CE, 1320 SYU

Two years later...

Argent swore again as she pushed through the dense foliage. As leader, it had been her decision to bring the diral of Soroin initiates into the woods and now she was forced to deal with the consequences. They could have stayed in the clearing where the flier dropped them off, but to her mind, such an easy choice would have been a sign of weakness. The woods offered shelter, food, and materials they could use to establish camp. She just had not planned on them being this... difficult. Forging ahead, Argent tried not to think about how far she was from civilization. Their trip had taken thousands upon thousands of solon by air... it would take months to walk back if they had to.

Clutching her seii's rough handle, she made one final push... and stumbled into an improbable clearing. Short, hollowed-out tree stumps marked a rough circle around a type of structure she had never seen before. Logs - likely from the stumps around her - had been hacked into an interlocking pattern and sealed with what looked like plaster. A squat stone chimney made of river rock and the same plaster stood connected to one one side of the cabin. Looking up, she saw a thin wisp of smoke curling from top.

The Tadan girl sent a warning to her fellows. Caution... there was someone here. Someone who was good at hiding their sanzai presence.

Was this some kind of test?

Looking around the side of the structure, Argent saw stakes and racks with at least twenty animal skins in various stages of curing. A hunting cabin perhaps? She sent the thought to the others. It made a sort of sense, but this far out in Arran? Whoever lived here would need a vehicle to return to the nearest settlement, and none of her fellows could even see so much as a radio antenna.

Suddenly, the loroi's heart froze as she heard the sound of a door opening on the far side of the structure.

novius
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by novius »

Not dropping the other storyline in progress, but this was too good to pass up. If this forum allows moving a string of posts into a separate thread, we might consider doing this for storylines that 'evolved' beyond a signle prompt/response...

Well, here goes. Enjoy! :)

Two years.

Two years without seeing a human, or anything else that looked even remotely familiar to home.

Everything was still strange. The grass, the trees, the animals... completely unlike what he ever saw. And while frontiermen often came back with tall tales of strange creatures (an ape-like being, half again as tall as a man, for example?), even their stories fell short.

The first weeks were awful.

Knowing a good deal of woodlore and surviving in the wilds Nathaniel knew his first priority would be to make his provisions last until he knew what would be edible and what not. First he tried to find anything familiar.... fruits, berries, game... but no such luck. Everything was completely unknown to him.

It was a Hobson's choice - he could either starve, or try his luck with whatever even looks remotely edible. Thus, no choice at all.

There were times where he seriously considered starving, though, rather than eating anything else that made him violently sick.

After staving off immediate dangers and making himself a temporary shelter, the gravity of his situation sunk in.

Whereever he was, and how he came here, he was far, far away from home. Far enough to not to even have a remote idea where 'home' would be. So far, that even his typical ways to find a bearing (moss grows on the west side of the tree, for example) seem to fail.

Even the night sky looked different. Any hopes of finding the North Star and thus having a sense of direction were quickly dashed.

And that terrified him most. Whenever he looked up the sky, the familiar constellations were there, like old friends. The Great Bear pointing towards the North Star chiefly amongst them. Now, he looked up at unfamiliar patterns, feeling truly lost.

Three hundred and sixty five scratches on a board marked the first year since he got lost.

And he never saw any living soul. A month after wandering around and not finding any sign of civilization - he was at the point to even call an an indian tribe as 'sign of civilization' by now - and with the days growing colder he came to the conclusion that he needed a more stable shelter.

Being down to the last two bullets for his musket made a point, too, especially since he had to use the rest of the ammo to fend off some beast with decidedly too many teeth and seemingly curious enough to try how Nathaniel might taste.

Seven hundred and fourty three scratches.

The loneliness was nagging at him. Yesterday and the day before he hunted some Hoppers, as he named them, and a Sharptooth. Curing the leather, they might provide a good replacement for his jerkin that started to be a bit threadbare by now, and the meat, while not quite a taste to die for, would at leaat sustain him.

Currently there was nothing to do at the house, too. The roof isn't leaking, there's enough firewood, his bow doesn't need a new string right now... Nathaniel ticked off his mental list for something, anything he might busy himself with to take his thoughts away from the empty feeling in his soul.

Nothing.

He looked back at the musket. Two bullets left. Same as one year ago. He had sworn to reserve the last bullet for himself. That was his silent promise.

Something made him twitch. It was his hunter's instinct, honed by two years of battle between him and the wilderness.

Something is here.

Something dangerous.

He slung his bow over his shoulder, hefted the axe - now resting comfortably in his fifteen-year-old hand, after the onset of his growth spurt - and hestitated. After a moment of deliberation he reached for the musket and loaded it with the second to last bullet.

Slowly he opened the door, listening in. Even if the forest sounds were unfamiliar to him, one thing stayed the same. When the forest goes silent, there's something afoot.

Like now.

---//---

Argent couldn't believe her eyes.

Impossible. Simply impossible.

Do you see what I see? she sent.

Coldfire, one of the more promising Soroin initiates of this diral, blinked, too, shaking her head and taking another look.

If you mean a pink alien clad in these furs he most obviously cured by himself and looks like a large version of our males... then yes, we do see the same thing.

The exchange brought in the rest of the diral, and the ensuing sansai chatter revealed a wide variety of opinions.

Yummy. - You're not serious. - I am serious, if he's really the same where it matters.... - Do you think our proctors left that one here as a treat? - Maybe as a test.

QUIET!, Argent's sanzai cut through the gaggle. First, we don't know if he is part of our trial. If so, we need to find out what role he has to play. Whether he's friend or foe. And if he is NOT part of our trial we still need to find out who he is, what he is, and what by the stars he is doing here, all alone. Cover me, I'll take point.

Disgruntled assents followed her as she crept closer, trying to keep that structure - cabin, she concluded - between her and that alien.

He's alert, she sent. Watch out, he's searching for us.

He's on our side, Coldfire sent.

Argent took the chance and slipped in through the door which stood slightly ajar.

The insides looked.... primitive. A cot, roughly hewn out of wood and covered with furs, dead grass peeking out underneath them. A fireplace, currently lit, equipped with a spit and meat roasting on it. A table with, of all things, a candle on top.

And no sign of any technology. No computer console, not even electricity.

Impossible. Simply impossible, she relayed, adding the images she saw.

A male voice, exclaiming something in a harsh tone of voice made her whirl around.

The door was fully opened, and filling the doorframe was that alien, still completely bedecked in furs, lifting an elongated object which her mind quickly registered as WEAPON!, making her twitch to the side.

Almost quickly enough. She heard a loud bang, felt the stinging pain of something grazing her arm, and then the noise of splintering wood.

---//---

Nathanial circled his cabin, arriving back at the door.

And stopped.

The door has been moved.

Something is inside.

Not to alert the trespasser, he silently opened the door fully - not easy if you don't know when the door creaks and when it wouldn't - and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the cabin's insides.

There! There he saw ... someone ... rifling through his meager belongings.

His mind immediately switched into the 'defend your homestead' mode, honed by thirteen years living in constant danger and fear of indians attacking and pillaging.

"Hey! What are you doing in my home?!"

The figure spun around with surprising grace, shocking Nathaniel into action.

He rose his musket and fired. The bullet sunk itself into the rough wood of the wall as the figure jerked to the side in the blink of an eye.

And Nathaniel got a first good look on the intruder.

It was a girl. Slightly older looking than he was, almost, or just barely a woman.

He shot a girl.

And then he noticed something decidedly off with that girl.

He was sure his eyes got fully accustomed to the dim light in his cabin, and yet, this girl was blue. As blue as the monrning sky he remembered just before sunrise.

Her clothing, if one could call that, left little to imagination about her figure. He vaguely remembered his mother calling that level of ... showiness ... 'indecent' and shooing him away whenever he saw some women in the town who weren't dressed how his mother would describe as 'proper'.

And yet, none of these women had clothing paneled with ... yes, it looks definitely metal, and this girl carried an assortment of ... things ... at her belt.

Looking back into her face, he took in her slightly slanted eyes, widened in shock, and her ears.

Pointed ears.

Then, he noticed the graze on her arm, bleeding.

Bleeding blue.

"Jayzus, Mary and Joseph...", he breathed.

Then he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and his world faded to black.

---//---

Argent looked at Coldfire, towering over the crumpled form of the alien, their gazes meeting.

Are you hurt? Coldfire asked.

Logannion
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Logannion »

Better start giving titles to these story strings in the future.

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orion1836
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by orion1836 »

Awesome job, Nov!

novius
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Marooned

Post by novius »

Just... couldn't.... resist....

Just a scratch, Argent calmed her down, looking at her injured arm, noticing that the wound isn't cauterized, as to be expected by an energy weapon. What in the Emperor's name was that?

Coldfire picked up the weapon the alien had dropped when he was knocked out. A weapon it was for sure - all the parts were there. There's a stock, made of wood, which could fit snugly against the shoulder, a place just right for the index finger to rest and an intricate mechanism at the top.

Though, this thing looked primitive. No housing for energy cells. No activation indicator. No heads up display, nowhere and.... she sniffed. Yes, there was definitely a sharp smell of burnt chemicals.

Preposterous, she sent with a gruff and went over to inspect the blemish on the wall. Pulling out her utility knife, she poked and prodded at the hole, until a small lead ball fell into her hand, the same acrid smell clinging to it.

Argent, curious about Coldfire's antics, looked over her shoulder.

No way. Coldfire sent. This weapon must have used a chemical propellant to accelerate this piece of metal to a speed high enough to cause damage.

Figures. Look around. I checked. The most complicated item I found is that dull knife ... well, that weapon, now... but that's it. And he's all alone. Is he an exile or do his people reject technology at a whole?

Coldfire shrugged.

You won't believe that! Poisoned Claw sharply sent from the outside, accompanied with a close-up of one of the skins on the racks.

In life, it must have been an arianesin, her namesake and the reason she chose that particular name, after narrowly surviving one attack of such a beast. A particular large beast, capable of stalking and subduing a single Loroi and putting a whole diral on edge. This one, not so much anymore.

..., Argent's sending lacked words as she looked at that unconscious male with newfound respect and trepidation.

Honor where honor is due, Coldfire sent dryly. Just think. We're sent here for exercise and our trials as a group, and he managed to survive all alone and without any technology to speak of. We have to hand it to him, that takes serious skill and determination. This isn't just a temporary dwelling - this looks as if he was here to stay!

Speaking of which..., Argent added, ...did you notice something?

Coldfire shook her head.

Exactly. He completely surprised me. And even now, if I didn't know you better, I would think you killed him with that armored fist of yours.

Come now..., Coldfire took a deep breath, readying herself for a sharp retort.

Tell me I'm wrong and you could sense his mind!

A look of concentration passed Coldfire's face, then she shook her head.

Looks like we have a mystery on our hands. Poisoned Claw, take two and move our base camp here - as a shelter, this cabin is much better than the camp fire we have. Coldfire, make sure to have another sweep over the cabin and the clearing, in case I missed something.

And you?

Me, I'll keep watch over that one and hope he proves to be talkative once he wakes up.

---//---

Nathaniel came to his senses and tried to suppress a groan and not to move for the time being, to not to give away that he is awake. Because the moment the indians know you are awake, the torture and scalpings would begin, his father said.

Hearing some activity in the distance, but no talking, he risked slowly opening his eyes and was greeted with the familiar sight of his cabin's roof, viewed from his bed.

Next item on the list, range of movement. He was prone at the moment, lying on his bed, still clothed, a slight flexing of his muscles wasn't met with resistence - his hand and feet were free to move.

'So, what happened?', he thought. He tried to piece together the last memories. Him, hearing the forest go quiet and going out to investigate.

Then, returning to the cabin, finding someone inside.

The girl.

The girl!

That strange, pointy-eared, blue-skinned girl with literally blue blood!

That impossible girl that made even stories of sasquatches in the Rocky Mountains look believable, because every man and woman he ever heard of, be it white, red, black, yellow, they all bleed red, red, RED, damnit!

Then, a sharp pain, and nothing. He fell for the oldest trick. That girl was the bait, and someone conked him over the head from behind.

But... he was still alive. And alive means he could try to flee.

Slowly he turned his head to look for the door.

Only to notice that she pulled up one of his rickety chairs and sat on it, effectively blocking the doorway. To add insult to injury, his musket is lying on her lap, her hand lightly resting on it.

And, on noticing his movement, she lifted her face to meet his brown eyes with her deep green ones straight on.

She said something in a tone of voice that sounded to him like velvet over a steel blade. Sweet and soft, but he by the gods better not resist.

The problem was, she spoke in a language he was completely unfamiliar with.

---//---

Argent looked up from the inspection of his weapon when she heard him stirring.

'Warrior reflexes', she surmised, 'assessing the situation first before giving away the surprise.'

Of course he would look at the only entrance, sooner or later. And the look in his eyes told her that he realized he's been had.

She couldn't help but smile.

"Greetings. I think you and I shall have a chat."

Her feeling of victory passed quickly as she noticed the blank look in his face.

He didn't understand a word.

She practically shouted her frustration in open sending: Just what kind of primitive, backwater dust ball does he come from that he doesn't understand Trade?

novius
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Beacons

Post by novius »

Just to not to lose the other thread, here comes a continuation. Hope I didn't change too much to the setting to invalidate what you already had in mind. :)

The veiled warning did not pass by Alex. Especially since it was delivered directly to his mind. Slowly but surely he realized that it is nigh impossible to outright lie - misdirect, varnish the truth a bit, but telling a falsehood via sanzai would require to actually believe the falsehood oneself.

'Astute observation. Only highly trained individuals would be able to ... brain-wash... themselves to such a degree that they could convincingly pass on a lie. Brainwash - your idea of spoken Trade certainly has some interesting idioms.'

Alex snorted, trying to suppress a laugh on Tempo's mental image of a naked human - and possibly Loroi - brain, covered in soap suds.

'I promise that I do not want to tell on my own volition and it needs your lessons for that to not to slip out.', Alex answered, with a flicker of guilt that he actually got a closer look at another Loroi than Beryl.

'Say, did you choose that particular picture for a purpose?' Alex tried for a light-hearted tone in his thoughts.

Tempo was silent for a long moment, but then she spoke out.

'I might have... Even when you described these 'elves' and likened us to them I could see that you considered us to be an attractive species. And, capitalizing on base impulses... fear, curiosity, attraction ... is a good way to test the mental equilibrium.'

Attractive? No. Downright stunningly beautiful would be a much better description... Alex had no regrets letting that thought slip through.

'Well, judging from your reaction I even underestimated that - but where did that guilt come from?'

'Because I'd hurt Beryl if I start looking for other women. After all, she almost chewed out Talon when she caught me introducing her to a handshake', Alex sent, accompanied with a reenactment of a particular scene just after he entered the cockpit with Talon.

'Right. 'Serial monogamy', as you explained. Beryl already told you about our female-to-male ratio and that our males cannot affort not to mate for prolonged periods. Add to this that male encounters are highly regulated and you can see that the concept of such commitment to a singular female is rare, very rare. Come to think of this...'

Alex felt Tempo pausing and sent a wordless query.

'It is a rare occurence for a warrior to actually see one male, less talk to him. In a way, we're already the odd ones out, with our prolonged contact to you. Although other warriors might act shy around you at first ... I wouldn't be surprised if you start receiving applications for mating encounters, and, please note that Beryl's reaction was almost completely out of place. The concept of 'jealousy' is not unknown to us, but heavily frowned upon. After all, reserving exclusive rights on a male is only a thing for truly deserving Loroi. To put in perspective, Stillstorm might be eligible for this, being a decorated war hero, but people do rest more easily that she never showed any inclination for this.'

'Come again?!', Alex spluttered, incredulously.

Wordlessly, Tempo conjured the scene he showed her up again, but put an emphasis on one detail.

"Pilots have a natural feeling for each other", Talon did say, and, wasn't that a slight smile playing around her lips?

'Understand that you are an attractive species to us in turn. While the concept of male warriors seems ... strange ... to us, I admit I do find the thought quite interesting, and by the looks of it, Talon might, too.'

Alex let out the mental equivalent of a groan. He didn't care that he leaked that thought that it would sound like a hormonal male teenager's harem fantasy, but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

He felt Tempo smiling. Just the sort of smile before giving the dagger between one's ribs another twist.

'And, I don't know how Teidar judge their prospective males, but as for you, I think she's starting to measure you by warrior standards. Earn her respect, and you might be in for a surprise.'

In the material world, Fireblade looked over to Beryl, a question on her mind. 'You should know - is it healthy for a human to turn such a color?'

Sweforce
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Re: Beacons

Post by Sweforce »

novius wrote:Just to not to lose the other thread, here comes a continuation. Hope I didn't change too much to the setting to invalidate what you already had in mind. :)
Maybe we should split them up to have like "Writing Promt 1: Alex and friends" & "Writing Promt 2: lost in the woods" or something?

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orion1836
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by orion1836 »

I think so long as one puts the title before the post, we can keep them here for now. If it gets ridiculous, I'll ask to split the thread or just start a new one myself.

How about... "Side Story" for the alternate to the comic, and "New Frontier" for this new one?

Nov - awesome job. Not where I would have gone, but that's kind of the whole point. Only *one* thing I wanted to bring up: a kid raised on the frontier would have kept his blades sharp (knife, axe, AND hatchet). I'd give it a 50-50 chance that Nathan left without a whetstone (given he wasn't planning to camp overnight), but he almost certainly would have found one or more in the intervening time.

Also, for your own reference, his "axe" is likely not double-sided (as one would think with the term). The side opposing the blade is either a short wedge or a flat driving plate. It would look more like a modern splitting maul, except the main blade would be longer and wider. Along with a hatchet, this tool can be used to build the sort of frontier cabin pictured in the original post with little else.

This is a good visual reference. The top is more or less the axe, any of the left two or right two hatchets would fit the time, and the middle knife most *definitely* fits what he'd carry.

Finally, Nathan would have established his clearing around as deep a stream as he could find, and yet be able to easily bound across. The water supply would be critical to building the cabin, providing for his needs, and serving as a lure for game he could trap. Game would not enter the clearing, but he would place traps along the stream just outside of it, far enough into the woods where animals would not be spooked by the clearing, cabin, or when downwind of his smoke/scent.

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Onaiom
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Re: Writing Prompts

Post by Onaiom »

"Writing Promt 1: Alex and friends" sounds more like a prequel for "What to do with Jardin".

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