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31

Writer's Guild / Ty Solphone versus VirMan™

« on: January 30, 2011, 06:16:04 PM »

Comission for TyVulpine
---------------------------------

Ty Solphine was bored. More specifically, he was boooooooorrrrrrreeeeeeeeed. Alone in the Crimson Flag clubhouse and without anything to do, the anthro gray fox wandered from room to room looking for any activity to keep him from going stir-crazy. Unfortunately, he was unable to find anything to occupy himself. Ty grumbled and growled in annoyance as he stomped through the clubhouse and was so plot-conveniently distracted that he failed to notice the upcoming staircase.

“Bored bored bored bor---aaaaaaaugh—Ooof! Ack! Yip! Ow!” Ty cried out as he fell down the stairs. The tumbling fox only stopped when he collided with a wall at the bottom of the stairwell—which promptly revolved to deposit him inside a secret alchemical laboratory™. Ty slumped off the wall unconscious. The final *thwump* of the fallen fox hitting the ground was just thwumpy enough to jostle lose a precariously perched potion (because if you have a secret lab, why wouldn’t you leave your potions precariously perched?). The vial slipped off the shelf and splattered its contents over Ty, seeping into his fur in a totally non-foreshadowing kind of way.

Ten extremely non-dramatic minutes later, Ty awoke to a nice shining sun warming his fur. As Ty’s mind returned to wakefulness, three important realizations occurred. The first was that he shouldn’t be able to feel the sun indoors. The second was that if he was still indoors then the Crimson Flag clubhouse had suddenly gotten an extremely outdoorsy decor. The third was that there was a blurry orange spot sitting on his muzzle. Upon focusing and going cross-eyed, the blur clarified into an orange cartoon fox.

“Jonas?” Ty asked curiously. “How are you on my muzzle? Did you shrink?”

Jonas wagged his tail. “Nope! You’re just bigger! Lots bigger! Oh, and you’re a foxtaur now.”

Ty blinked. “Erm...ok? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because the discovery process is boring so I’m speeding it up. Enjoy!”

And with that, Jonas hopped off Ty’s muzzle, thus ending his brief cameo. Ty was momentarily occupied with the impromptu-yet-brief exposition but quickly snapped out of it to look behind himself. Yep, Jonas was right. His anthro torso merged with a feral lower body to make him a foxtaur. Looking down, Ty could make out the ruins of the Crimson Flag clubhouse through which one of his four feetpaws was still standing inside. Looking around, Ty found himself eye-level with the roofs of many of Reynburg’s skyscrapers. Having established his obligatory descriptions, Ty shrugged and wandered off. Giant foxtaur or not, he was still really bored.

Unfortunately, Ty’s new giant foxtaur body made it difficult to find things to do. Reynburg’s streets were wide for normal fuzzies, but they proved exceedingly narrow for giant foxtaurs. Having to keep track of an extra set of legs didn’t help much either. Ty kept knocking buildings over when he tried to turn corners. It was really quite annoying. Adding to the problem was the assortment of panicking citizens running willy-nilly across the streets and sidewalks. It was bad enough that Ty had to navigate through buildings and cars but now there were fleeing foxes and cats to walk around! Ty flicked his tail irritably out of habit, sending a nearby car flying three blocks before crashing into a museum that up until a moment ago had been proudly featuring a World’s Most Fragile Ming Vase Exhibit (the floral patterns alone were spectacular!).

As the furry denizens of Reynburg fled from the taurrific terror that stomped through their city, their collective cries, mews, yips, barks, chitters, and dooks of fear gathered together in a resounding cry of “HEAAAAAAALLLLP!!”

Their cry was answered. The citizens of Reynburg turned their necks back and looked skyward as, from the top of the tallest skyscraper, a lone figure stood. The shadowed entity leapt from his perch and landed on a rooftop directly in front of Ty Solphine’s eyes. With a flip of his cape and a dramatic pose, the crowd let out a resounding cheer as the shining sun revealed the figure to be none other than VirMan™!

Yes, VirMan™! Once a completely ordinary anthropomorphic cartoon gray fox mage with strange antennae hair, this solitary figure had led a completely normal life until a fateful day when the planets aligned and exposed him to mysterious cosmic rays™. Their strange power surged through his body, turning him into an anthropomorphic cartoon gray fox mage with even stranger antennae hair (it added that third one you can sorta see sometimes)! Now endowed with Virish speed (about normal speed) and Virish strength (a bit lower than normal strength), this costumed crusader defends Reynburg from the surprisingly many evils that wish to destroy it (but only during the summer months. Maaaaaybe in spring and possible fall but even then it’s a bit iffy)!

“Halt, evildoer!” VirMan™ cried in his decidedly un-Virish-yet-obligatorily-deep superhero-voice.  “Your reign of terror over this fair city shall come to an—gah!”

Ty gave a bored yawn before flicking away the annoying hero and wandering off towards the park. VirMan™ sailed seven blocks before landing splat against the road. Fortunately, since he was a cartoon, this sort of thing didn’t hurt him. Instead VirMan™ was just run over by eighteen cars as panicked citizens, while emboldened by the appearance of their savior, continued to flee in a manner appropriate to giant monster attacks. As the fox peeled himself off the road, a spark of pure hatred was born inside him—a spark that would grow and grow until exploding in an unfathomable wave of death and destruction. But that wouldn’t happen for some time so let’s move on.

“Hey!” VirMan™ yipped irritably as he chased after the giant foxtaur. “Don’t interrupt me while I’m giving my heroic speech! I worked really hard on it!”

Ty, with his head twelve stories above the ground, was unable to hear the annoyed rant and continued to make his way towards the park. The soft grass would be a welcome relief to all four of his paws after trudging through the hard, cramped, streets and their annoyingly pointy cars and fire hydrants.

 “Hey! Get back here!” VirMan™ hopped up and down angrily at not being noticed. What was the point in being a superhero if no one would pay attention to you? He had to do something big to reclaim the spotlight.  VirMan™ ran up to one of the many parked and knocked over cars littering the sidewalk and found a nice, unoccupied van. Using his Virish strength, he bent down and lifted...lifted...lifted...lift—bah! It wouldn’t move!

“Oh forget it!” VirMan™ exclaimed as flames erupted in his handpaw. “Stupid, BLASTED car!” He yelled while launching a great fireball towards the offending vehicle. It exploded in theatrical fashion, launching the van through the air and colliding dead on with the back of Ty’s leg.

Ty recoiled in pain (not much pain, mind you, but even for a giant foxtaur exploding cars tend to sting).
“YOWCH!” He yelped, flailing backwards and knocking several stores and light posts over as he whirled around to face to offending superhero.

VirMan’s™ antennae hair wilted. “Oh frazz.”

With a ferocious (and foxy!) yell, Ty pulled the roof off a nearby office building and hurled it at the hero.  The rooftop bounced on impact with the street, careening past VirMan™ and crashing into “The shiny store!” VirMan™ gasped in horror. “Where shall the good people get their tinfoil now!? You monster!”

Ty leaned down. “Monster? You attacked me, remember?”

“Nuh-uh!” VirMan™ protested. “You started destroying the city! That gives superheroes dibs on first-attacks!”

“Well I didn’t mean to destroy it! Downtown Reynburg is really, really cramped when you’re giant!”

“What about the roof you threw at me?”

Ty looked sheepishly at the exposed top of the office building. The workers weren’t paying much attention, having decided that losing the roof over their heads made an excellent excuse for an extended coffee break. “Ok...that one was me...” Ty tapped his fingers together, embarrassed. “I got a little mad when you threw the car at me.”

VirMan’s™ eyes shifted. “Yes...threw...let’s go with that.” Eager to change the subject he added, “But if you’re not a monster, why aren’t you wearing anything?”

“Eh?” Ty glanced down at his bare-furred chest. “Well I had a shirt, but I guess it didn’t grow with me.”

VirMan™ snapped his fingers. “Well that’s your problem! If you don’t have at least some type of clothes or accessory, how is anyone supposed to know you’re not a monster?”

“That does make sense...” Ty mused as he stroked his chin. “So I just need to get a shirt?”

“Yup! I can even get one for you, but it’ll take a bit of time to get one made in your size.”

One convenient time-skip later, Ty was proudly putting on his brand-new, giant foxtaur-sized T-shirt.

“It fits!” He said happily, admiring the shirt’s spiffy red colour. “Thanks, VirMan™!”

And with that, Ty skipped off happily, bounding safely through the streets without fear of knocking over buildings. After all, only giant monster foxtaurs destroyed cities, and now that he had a shirt he was just a normal giant foxtaur now. As for VirMan™, now satisfied that his job was done and his city was safe, he retreated to his chat room of solitude™, confident in the knowledge that Reynburg would never again be threatened by giant foxtaurs. Ever.

32

Writer's Guild / Sennel's Story (WIP)

« on: January 14, 2011, 12:44:19 PM »

Part 1

I adjusted my lenses in an attempt to avoid the morning sun’s glare whilst making my way through Highbank’s market. The unavoidable sphere shone unobscured by clouds and made it difficult to navigate around the stalls. Unfortunately, the fruit stands were out to get me. Four times they found ways to show up just as I turned corners or averted my eyes from a particularly bright flash. Considering what was going on in the manor, however, I took comfort in the idea that sunlight and produce would be my biggest challenges today.  It was this cheery thought that held my attention when a table of carrots struck me across the middle.

*whump*

“Ow!” I bent over and grabbed my side. A sheaf of carrots jostled to the ground.

“Hey! Watch it!” A shrill voice rebuked. I turned to see a woman bent down and picking up the fallen vegetables.

“Ah, my apologies ma—”

I was cut off. “I don’t want to hear it! Honestly, I’ve been setting up in the same spot every day for a year now. You’d think people would have a little situational awareness but noooooo!” She fixed me with a glare that made me feel like I had halved in size. “You’re all always ‘oh, sorry, didn’t see you there!’ Like hell you don’t see me here! It’s a big, honkin’ block of wood with carrots on it! Not that hard to miss!”

Sufficiently intimidated, I decided that the most prudent option would be to flee. My side still smarted and made turning difficult, but the pain subsided by the time several rows had been placed between the angry carrot woman and myself. I could still hear her ranting over the bustle of merchants and customers. She seemed to have moved on to harping about youth and real estate. I’d have to take a different route back to the manor, it seemed. Perhaps I could cut through the clothing stalls or maybe double around the inn. Eh, I wouldn’t be heading back until later anyway; I could worry about carrot avoidance later. It was a nice day—annoying sun aside—and I was looking forward to a nice, refreshing, str—

*whump*

““Mrp!" It took a great deal of control to hold back on cursing.  For the second time in ten minutes I clutched my side as I heard something roll off a table.

 “Hey! Watch it!” A gruff voice chided. A man picked a wooden object off the ground and began examining it carefully. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him while his face was turned away. “This stuff is fragile! Do you know how easy it is to damage wood? If there’s even the slightest crack I’ll have the guard haul you up so...quick...that...” His voice trailed off as he turned to face me. Bushy eyebrows spiked in alarm and a terse mouth fumbled wordlessly.

I smiled weakly, still wincing from pain, but glad that I could now place him. “Hullo, Samuels.”

“Aaaah...Baron Wright!

“Please, just Sennel, Sam, I’m just Sennel.” I said as gainly as I could manage. “My father is the one with titles, not me.”

“Ah, but still, please forgive my rudeness, sir! I didn’t see you at first.”

“You have every right to be annoyed. I had a...err...run in...and was distracted.”

Samuels paused. “A run in? Oh, you mean Eugenia Feldman? The woman with the carrots? I was wondering what set her off. Well don’t take it too hard, sir. I’m sure she just didn’t recognize you.”

I shrugged, which was uncomfortable due to my injury. As much as I liked Samuels, there was always an awkward reverence whenever he spoke to me. I noticed he was eyeing my side.

“It’s nothing.” I said quickly. “I walked into—Eugenia, was it?—I walked into her table, too. It’s probably nothing. The pain should go away in a few and I can salve it when I go back to the manor.” Searching for a new topic, I added, “What have you been working on, anyway, Samuels? I haven’t seen you in the market for a good two months.”

Samuels’ eyes glinted in the manner of all merchants about to make a sales pitch. “Glad you asked, sir! I’ve been refining my skills, you see! Furniture is a fine market, ta be sure, but it just don’t have  the same long-term market applications. People will buy a chair or desk, yea, but most folks ain’t gonna need ta buy again. So I’ve moved on to a business with more of a repeat clientele.”

He looked at me expectantly. I took the hint. “So now you’re selling...?”

“Tools!” Samuels exclaimed. He gestured to his table and snatched up a hammer. “The trick’s in the grip, see? An axe or hammer’s no good if you can’t get a good grip on it. Here, feel it!”

He thrust the hammer into my hands. I adjusted my lenses before inspecting. As unfamiliar as I was with tools, I could tell that the hammer bore the same hallmarks as Samuels’ furniture. “It’s very smooth.”

Samuels nodded eagerly. “Yea, it is! But grip it tight and feel how firm that wood is! Solid all the way through too! You could bash someone’s head in without losing hold!”

“Right...” I muttered awkwardly as I handed the hammer back. “Wait, weren’t you saying something about wood being easy to damage?”

“Eh? Oh! No, sir! Not at all! I was referring ta one of the knick-knacks I make with the leftover wood. Not all of it is good for tools!” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out what I guessed to be the object I had knocked off the table. “Here, take a looker.”

It was a small model of a frog. The thing was surprisingly heavy despite being able to fit in my palm.
“People like ‘em.” Samuels explained. “Adds a bit of flavour around the house, you know? You can keep that if y’like, sir.” He added.

I knew Samuels well enough that I didn’t bother protesting. Nonetheless, when he turned his back to exude on the wonders of a shovel being inspected by a passer-by, I returned the frog to his table before leaving. I never liked it when people gave me things; it created feeliings of obligation. While the pain in my side had lessened by now, I didn’t want to risk another table encounter so instead of continuing my walk I decided to go back to the manor. I also didn’t want another Eugenia encounter, so I took the path by the inn to avoid the food stalls. There was an odd flower growing along the bushes behind the inn that attracted my attention. A curious shade of violet, its petals curved in a manner reminiscent of someone wearing a robe or hood. Strangely, there was but a single such flower among the bushes. I surmised that the rest had been picked by others and did the same to this straggler. It was pretty enough, and I could always use another bookmark back at the manor.

Father was passing through the main hall when I returned. “Ah, Sennel!” he exclaimed upon seeing me. “Back so soon?

Not wanting to admit my clumsiness, I said, “I decided to cut my walk short today. Have a headache.” Which was at least true; an uncomfortable pressure had suddenly developed between my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting Baron Sunder?”

“Already met! Sunders is a good chap, but our conversations are never long save for negotiations. He saves his best words for the table, as it seems. Keep that in mind, by the way, Sennel. Don’t assume the Sunders you’ll be seeing over the next day will be the one you’ll be up against in the meetings.”

I nodded. “I understand, your Grace. If I may be excused, however, I have preparations for that same meeting to attend.”

Father smiled. “Yes, of course, please don’t let me hold you.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” I bowed before making by way up the stairs. To my surprise, I found Melanie at the top looking over the banister.

“I still think it’s weird to hear you calling your father, ‘Grace’.” She chirped without preamble and began following me through the halls.

“It’s good practice.” I affirmed. “In a day’s time I’ll be making my first negotiations. Politeness is essential in politics. I’ve known Baron Sunders since I was a child, but I can’t treat him casually at the table.”

“Riiiiight...because a trade agreement that’s been renewed without issue five times in a row over the past ten years is /such/ an important issue.”

I scowled. “And it was renewed each time because both parties follow both proper procedure and social niceties. Barons Sunders and Wright have been allies for so long because they both respect each other. If I insult Sunders during the negotiations it could hurt our trade relations.” As we turned a corner I added, “You should be preparing for this sort of thing too, Mel. You’ll have to do your share of politics once we get married next year.”

A laugh. “Ahah! And here I thought you had no sense of humour. Trust me, Senny, anyone who has to negotiate with /me/ is going to have their hands full!”

I had to agree. Melanie dealt with people bluntly and without any sense of tact. The effect was jarring to say the least, but she managed to make it work for her. I suspected part of the reason Duke Valens offered her for a marriage alliance was the hope that I could instil a bit of decorum in the girl. While I had failed miserably in that regard, we at least got along.

“If you could lend me a hand,” I said while opening the door to my room, “I injured myself in the market and could use some help checking it.”

Melanie smirked. “You walked into a table again, didn’t you? Seriously, Sen, sunlight plus glasses is a bad idea.”

“I assure you, I’d get a lot more injuries if I went without them.” I replied while pulling up my shirt. “Could you check for a bruise?”

“Yea, yea...” Melanie bent down and looked. “It’s a bit red. Does it hurt when I poke it?”

“A little.”

“Well there’s no bruise. Probably just salve it, I’d say.” She got back up and retrieved a green bottle from my washroom. “Here.”

“Thanks.” As I took the salve, I realized that I was still holding the flower I had picked earlier. I placed it on my desk before applying the frigid goo to my side. At least this new formula didn’t stink...

“What’s that?”

“Eh?” I looked round and saw Melanie eyeing the flower. “Right, that. I found it growing behind the inn. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

A shrug. “I guess. I’m not much interested in flowers. What’s it called?”

“Not a clue. I can look it up later. Anyway, I have to work on my plans for the trade meeting with Duke Sunders, could you give me some time alone?

“Yea, yea...”

Melanie left the room. I drew a notebook from my desk drawer. Sitting down, I began to go over my notes. From what I knew of Sunders’ barony from past trips—both for leisure and while accompanying Father during diplomatic visits—Sunders’ citizenry were very fond of goods produced by Wright’s people. This was mostly clothing, tools, and furniture though, not essentials like food or materials like lumber. The reverse was true for Father’s domain. His people relied on the wood and ore that was plentiful in Sunders’ lands.

The main point of contention during the trade meeting was going to be taxes. Due to conflicts with the southern baronies during the last time the agreement was renewed, Sunders had agreed to lower taxes on Highbank’s imports in exchange for Father offering military aid. Even though the current situation was relatively peaceful, my objective was to end the meeting with as few changes to the agreement as possible. This meant that I would have to find something new to offer Sunders since he no longer needed soldiers. Hmm...

I rubbed my temple. The pressure had grown from uncomfortable to pounding. How lovely, first an injured side, now a headache. Searching for a distraction, I grabbed the flower and began twisting its stem in my fingers. No luck. I tried counting its petals. The pressure turned to pain. I screwed up my eyes and dropped the flower, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the mounting—

“AH-CHOO~!”

33

Role Play Theater / Worlds of the Veil (Worldbuilding Document)

« on: January 04, 2011, 02:26:00 PM »

What follows are the general rules of this setting for your perusal; please feel free to ask questions and tell me if you’d be interested in playing an RP in this setting. We will be using a variant of the FURSONA system Feathertail posted, but I haven’t actually developed it yet.
=======

The world as we know it is not unique. It is one of many. The vast cosmos is filled with an infinite number of worlds. Some are almost identical except for a few minor customs. Others have differences so profound that it is a wonder they manage to exist at all. The main link between worlds is the Veil. This realm is curious in that it does not technically have any traits of its own. Matter, rules, and energy from all worlds bleed into the Veil, and the result is an every changing plane that weaves its way throughout all creation.

Aer
One thing that all worlds have in common is aer (pronounced the same as ‘air’, but people can usually tell the difference when it is spoken due to context or emphasis). Aer is a force produced by sentient thought, will, and emotion. It is largely intangible, and its properties are not fully understood. Aer is attracted to more aer, and this attraction is strongest when the aer shares similar origins. This is why the aer generated by a person won’t just fly away, since it prefers to stick around its own source. Having said that, aer is found everywhere in some form or another. Aer is not required for life, but any area devoid of aer is not naturally occurring.

The Veil
The main link between worlds is the Veil. This realm is curious in that it does not technically have any traits of its own. Matter, rules, and energy from all worlds bleed into the Veil, and the result is an every changing plane that weaves its way throughout all creation. Aer flows freely through the Veil from all creation, and with it carries the dreams, thoughts, and feelings of an infinite number of minds. It is the world of dreams, intangible and real all at once. Any travel or contact with other worlds must first go through the Veil.

Magic
What most people know about magic is that it requires aer. Aer is an energy both fuelled by and composed of emotions and will. If the will is strong enough, then the aer will force a manifestation of a person’s wishes. This is called casting a spell. The first time someone uses magic, it is usually involuntary, often triggered by unusually heightened emotions. It is not uncommon, for instance, for a child to lose a beloved pet and cause a rainstorm in their grief. While one might think such a system of magic results in an unstable world, this is not true. The emotional range required for unintentional spell casting becomes more specific as a person grows older, similar to how it is easier to make a child cry than an adult.  As understanding of the world grows, so too does control over one’s aer. Magic is strongest near places close to the Veil, and it is generally believed that this is because the realm’s ever-fluctuating nature makes the aer more malleable and controllable. Magic possesses certain limits, as outlined below.

1.Specific is Better: Magic is, usually, easier to cast the more specific the target is. Names, images, cherished objects, and more can all both aid in a spell’s effectiveness and one’s defence against spells. Trying to stop a rock from falling on a civilian is harder than stopping a fragment of Mt. Tallstone from falling on Molly Jones.

2.People are Harder to Enchant: Certain types of magic are harder to use on people than objects. This is because a person’s sense of self causes their aer to subconsciously shield them and make unwanted changes to their person harder than normal.

3.You Cannot Create, Only Change: Magic cannot create something from nothing, but it can change things. A toothpick cannot become a sword, but a stick can. You cannot increase an object’s size, but you can shrink it down and restore it to normal. This restriction comes up less than one would think, but it is still a limit. A general idea to keep in mind is that, when changing something, the conservation of mass still applies, but you have more leeway in where any leftover matter goes/is stored.

Paradoxes
Magic has its risks, and the most dangerous is a Paradox. This event occurs when a spell is effectively rejected from reality. Only a handful of events can cause Paradoxes, and they can range from the mild to the severe. These categories are not definitive by any sense of the word, but most Paradoxes tend to fall within them. Keep in mind that ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ are relative terms here—Paradoxes of any form are dangerous to both the triggering individual and anyone around them and are to be avoided at all costs.

1. Disbelief: This is the weakest form of Paradox, and it occurs when someone is forced to cast a spell that goes against their beliefs. This is caused by the caster truly believing that what they are trying to make happen is impossible or horribly wrong, and usually causes the spell to backfire upon anyone nearby. It should be noted that in order for a Disbelief Paradox to occur, the contradiction must be severe. A pacifist forced to shoot a fireball for instance, won’t do much (though any restraint they have will weaken the spell). A monk who has been raised to reject all conflict, however, can trigger one if they are forced to use offensive magic and their faith is strong enough. As dangerous as backfires are, those caused by a Disbelief Paradox are not the worst of the bunch.

2.Impossibility: This is the most common type of Paradox. It arises when someone tries to manifest something that reality can’t properly handle. Usually it occurs when someone attempts a spell that isn’t fully thought-out. The most common occurrence of this Paradox is when someone overextends themself when casting a spell. Trying to affect too large an area, or casting too strong a spell with too little aer, causes an Impossibility Paradox. The result of this is usually a backfire, though depending on the severity of the contradiction there might be a temporary warping of the area (solid rock might become like quicksand for instance) and a person might end up marked in some way. This can be anything from a change in hair colour, to some unnatural bodily trait that cannot be removed or magically hidden. Depending on what was attempted, the mark may fade.

3.Violation: The most severe, and thankfully, the rarest of Paradoxes. To cause a Violation is to try to break one of the fundamental rules of creation. The spell will not just backfire, but strike with vengeance as reality itself exacts punishment. The specific causes of a Violation are not fully understood due to the fact that many cultures have taboos about magic. These prohibitions have evolved over time into beliefs that certain spells will Violate. This has spread a great deal of misinformation about what can and cannot trigger a Violation Paradox, but woe to any who stumble upon a true cause.

Spirits and Ghosts
Spirits and ghosts are at the most basic level, sentient masses of aer. Spirits are aer that exemplify one specific aspect of the world. These aspects can be elemental, metaphysical, or otherwise, and the resultant spirit can draw power from any aer that aspect produces. There are a myriad of different types of spirits, each with their own name, but they all share these basic traits. All spirits have a ban, a type of restriction that they are incapable of breaking. Each type of spirit has its own ban, but they are usually related to a spirit’s nature. Anger spirits, one of the most common types, has the well-known ban of being unable to back down from an opponent. If a spirit grows strong enough, its ban can change to one more specific to that individual.

Ghosts are sentient masses of aer imprinted with the essence of a deceased person. When someone dies, the aer in their body is gradually released into the environment as decomposition occurs. If a person experiences a sudden, powerful emotion at the instant of death, however, this can cause the aer to instead form a ghost. Ghosts resemble the body from which they came from, and often possess some of the knowledge of the person that birthed them. A ghost’s temperament and actions depend on what emotion created them, but it becomes the centre point of their existence. Stories tell of ghosts that behave just as they did in life, but the volume of such stories outnumbers actual occurrences. In order for a ghost to retain full faculties, a person would need to experience an instant of true clarity at the moment of death. Ghosts do not have bans, but they usually react to objects related to their death. These reactions can range from avoidance and fear to outright rage and fury, so it is unwise to count on such things without foreknowledge.

Both spirits and ghosts have potent, if limited, magical abilities due to their composition and natures.

Other Worlds
Most worlds are not fully aware of their place in the grand cosmology. All worlds have some awareness of the Veil, and quite a number have theories that other places might exist through it, but few actually know that other worlds exist. There are, however, certain terminologies that come up.

Parallel Worlds: These are just like your world, except for a few small differences. Maybe a war turned out differently, or a different son succeeded the king, or maybe a person died from an illness instead of recovering. Worlds are closest to their parallels, and even contain different versions o the same people. These versions have the same innate nature but grew up under different circumstances, which can lead to wildly different positions between worlds. Sometimes an aer disturbance, such as that caused by a Paradox, can make a person swap places with a parallel self. This is never permanent, but is certainly jarring. Time flows at the same rate among parallel worlds.

Outer Worlds: These are close to your world, but they aren’t very recognizable. The geography might be close, but there are always land masses or features that simply have no correlation. Cultures are usually wildly different, and some Outer Worlds even have a different dominant species. Nonetheless, those living in Outer Worlds still have versions of themselves in your world. While they retain the same innate natures, they grew up in wildly different cultures, landscapes, or even as a different species or gender, and can be in any number of different positions. These differences are more drastic than in Parallel worlds, and it is more likely for someone to find that their Outer selves in wildly different situations (married to an arch enemy, different sexuality, dead, ect.) than in Parallel worlds. Travel can occur to Outer Worlds, but this is extremely rare and has to be done intentionally (not necessarily intentional on the traveller’s part though...).

Far Worlds: These are not your worlds. They are alien in either geography or natural laws, sometimes both. Their populations have no versions of people your world and you have none with theirs. Some aren’t even habitable. It is incredibly rare to make contact with these worlds, and travel is so rare as to be legend.

34

Writer's Guild / The Gentleman's Rules

« on: January 01, 2011, 12:54:58 PM »

It could have been worse, Claire thought as she trudged along the muddy road. She could have had to make the delivery during last night’s rainstorm instead of afterwards. At least now there was just fresh muck and gray skies instead of pouring wet. The messenger adjusted her satchel whilst sidestepping a puddle. A glance to the side confirmed the familiar oak that marked the halfway point between her village of Highbank and Faraway city. The knotty bark reminded Claire, as it always did, of her uncle’s face that one time he ate an entire lemon on a bet. Her thoughts trailed off at the memory, and she wondered idly if she should try and find him after making the delivery in Faraway. Then she wondered if there would be enough time. Then she was knocked to the ground.

Sennel Wright adjusted his glasses to avoid the sun’s glare as he made his way down the street. The irksome sphere shone unobscured by clouds and made it difficult to see through the shop windows he passed. Through the sglass he saw an interesting clock in an antique store and cupped his hands against the window to try and better make out its woodwork pattern. It was just after Sennel had figured out that the markings above the clock face were in fact of skulls rather than apples that a woman walked into him carrying two large paper bags

“Oof! Watch it!” grunted the woman as she rebounded off Sennel and dropped one of the bags.  It fell to the ground and spilled cosmetics across the sidewalk. “Now look what you’ve done!” She spat out irritably.
“Oh!” the young man exclaimed. He knelt down immediately and grabbed a tube of lipstick before it rolled off the curb. “Sorry! I was looking in the window—let me help, please!”  
“You’d better help! I paid good money for these and if I lose any of them you’ll pay, I promise!”
Sennel finished collecting the escaped makeup. “Again, I’m terribly sorry.” He repeated as apologetically as he could. “I’ll work harder to be more aware next time. Please, have a nice day.”

There was no reply. The woman merely glared and turned her head in a huff before marching past. Sennel very much wanted to add a request for the woman to watch her own surroundings in the future, but it wouldn’t have been right. A gentleman did not draw attention to the failings of those around him. At least, he consoled himself, the encounter had been brief.

The messenger’s last breath choked on her own blood. The satchel slipped from her arm and fell open upon muddy ground. Blood congealed around the site as the letters, missives, and packages were sifted until a single book was removed. The tome was unremarkable from all outward appearances save for the cover’s curious shade of blue. A quick flip of the pages confirmed the book’s nature. The woman’s broken body, useless as it was, remained for the elements.

35

Writer's Guild / Mythic Musings

« on: December 26, 2010, 08:00:18 AM »

I DID NOT WRITE THIS! This is a direct copy of the story written for me as part of the TSA christmas exchange. Reposted with writer's permission.
======

Mythic Musings


By Devin Hallsworth

For Jonas




The museum is a lovely place at night, or at least Sennel thought this  one was.

Cozily dimmed down lighting, friendly security staff, relics and  treasures from all four corners of the globe on display. While every  budding archaeologist might dream of being the one that brushes the  dirt of some newly unearthed discovery, working in a place like this  had its own allures.

Walking reverently through the ancient Greece section of the museum he  stopped to grin at some of the displays he had helped set up since  starting work here. No, he had no complaints at all about a career in a  place that would allow him to bring his childhood love of mythology to  others.

Using his keys to gain access to the staff wing he set his briefcase on  his work desk in the middle of the barely lit warehouse that stored all  manner of carefully labeled and archived archeological finds.

As he sat down and took a moment to clean his glasses he found his eyes  drift across a large shipping box that hadnt been there when he left  for home this morning.

He grumbled and strode over to where the shipping manifests were posted on the wall. Sure enough a new item had come in and he had been  completely uninformed about it. Taking the clipboard off the wall he read as he walked back to the mysterious box.

It was definitely intended for the Greek section of the museum, a life  sized statue of the Greek muse Calliope found at a new dig site that  seemed to be in great condition.

Sennel grinned boyishly as he read. "The Muse of heroic poetry herself?  Well its an honor to have you here Ma'am considering we owe Homers Odyssey to your talents as a muse." He giggled as he set the clip board  down and fetched his unboxing crowbar, hammer and other useful  supplies.

It was his job to inspect the statue for any damage it might have  suffered while being shipped over seas and it was a job he was honored  to be trusted with.

Luckily the packers had done their job right, the statue was in  perfect condition. He wiped the sweat off his brow and took a moment to  stand back and grin at the ancient statue of a woman with a writing  tablet in her hands.

He dusted off his hands and decided to take a break as he thought over  and rethought his next steps in helping this ancient statue with its  new lease on life. He walked out of the staff wing and walked toward  the main visitors lobby where all the vending machines were as his  thoughts churned over the task ahead of him.

So enthralled was he with his thoughts of work that it wasn't until he had put his change in the machine and began to reach in to grab his  snack that he noticed the two Humanoid robots dressed as ninjas  standing over the body of an unconscious security guard.

Sennel and the robots stared at each other for a few seconds before one  of them started clanking towards him at which point he ran screaming  back the way he had come.


***


He wanted to slam the door behind him but he had enough sense of mind  to quietly close and lock the door to the staff wing instead. Falling  back against it and panting from exhaustion. "That thing was fast! Why  was it so fast?" He gasped in between. "Why... why was it dressed up as  a ninja if its so loud? Why.. WHY IS IT..." He clamped a hand over his  mouth and switched his monologue to internal mode. 'Why is it in a  museum?! Are we getting robbed?' He thought.

The word Robbed crystallized a plan of action in his head immediately.  Diving back behind his desk he grabbed the phone off his desk and  watched the door as best he could from hiding.

"911, what is the emergency?"

"HELLO! You have to help me. My museum is being invaded by Robot Ninjas!"

"Sir, prank calls will result in criminal charges being laid against you."

Sennel trailed off for a moment as he realized what he had just  accidentally blurted out in his panic. "Ah... NO! Wait, sorry! I meant  people! Real people with guns, not very metallic at all. Can you please  send a patrol car or a swat team over like right away?"

"One moment sir." The operator said with a heavy sigh. Sennel held out  hope right until she came back on the line. "Sir I just talked to  security for the Museum you are phoning from and they say everything is  just fine. How long have you been working today sir? Is there any medication you may have forgotten to take today?"

"IM NOT CRAZY!" He shouted into the phone and hang up before she got  smart and told them which phone he was calling from.

"That sounded incredibly convincing." A wry female voice said to him.

Sennel glanced in the direction of the voice as he put the phone back  up on the desk he was hiding behind. "Well its the truth!" He replied  back to Calliope.

He stared at the door for a long minute waiting for Robot Ninja's to  burst through it before thinking to take a second look.

"On second thought maybe I am crazy." He said to the flesh and blood  woman who looked the spitting image of the ancient statue he had  finished unpacking earlier. "I was pretty sure I was sane though last  time I checked. On second thought how do you check for sanity?" He  mumbled to himself as he curled up into a fetal position.

The Muse leaned over to watch him panic behind his desk. "If you are  crazy this is a rather boring kind of insanity I must say. Not really  something anyone would want to include in any great stories."

Sennel glared back at her. "Well Im sorry but stuff like this just  doesn't happen in real life! Robot Ninjas invading museums and wierd  ancient Greek statues becoming people isn't supposed to happen."

Calliope blinked. "It isn't? Neither of those hardly sound all that  weird to me though Im not familiar with the first one. Who were these  swat teams you were trying to reach anyway? Are they the people you  contact to deal with Hydras and Gorgons and such?"

He shook his head. "Hydras and Gorgons don't exist in real life."

Calliope stared at him. "Maybe you really are crazy. What about  Minotaurs? Basilisks? Chimeras? Centaurs? Nymphs? Satyrs?" She asked  with suspicion in her voice.

"No, its just people! Humans. There are no Centaurs in the world. No  Mermaids, no Pegasi, no Phoenixes, no Sirens, no Werewolves, no.." He  ranted before getting cut off by Calliope.

"Were Wolves?" She asked.

"Yeah Were Wolves. You had them back in your day, people who turned  into wolves? Lycanthropes you called them. The etymology of the term  Were Wolf was derived way after your day somewhere in Gothic Europe.  North America had similar creatures that they called Skin Walkers."

"You seem like you know quite a bit about mythological creatures." She  observed, seeming slightly distraught now. "And yet you claim none of  these exist in the world today? It appears I was right when I said you  are a victim of a very boring insanity."

He glared back at her and stood up. "Well at least its an insanity that's rooted in reality! That doesn't sound right..." He shook his head.  "Look, as much as it would be great if stuff like Were Wolves existed  today they don't. And neither do you. Actually I should probably stop  talking to you because its probably not great for my sanity."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why Were Wolves specifically? Am I  mistaken or do I detect a hint of favoritism?"

He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, yes there is a bit  of favoritism involved. A lot of European folk lore sort of depicted  them as ravenous monsters sent by Satan to earth but Ive always been  fond of thinking of them as being big brothers of wild wolves. The same  beautiful gray coat..." He said with a grin as his paws scratched an  itch on the back of his furry neck.

"Strong and powerful legs for chasing down prey and moving cross  country for hours on end." He continued as he stepped out of human  shoes and paced on two digitigrade legs.

"Not to mention that if I was a werewolf these stupid Robot Ninjas  wouldn't stand a chance of robbing ANY MUSEUM THAT I WORK AT!" He  growled, punctuating this statement with a slammed paw on his work  desk, cracking the wood severely and sending enough noise through the  warehouse the Robots finally wised up as to his location and were now  trying to open the locked door.

He was filled with panic for a few moments before getting distracted by  the muzzle in front of his eyes. After a frenzied inspection of his  body he came to a conclusion and turned to stare at Calliope in awe.  "Did you do this?"

Calliope grinned. "Well this insanity of yours seemed like it could use  a fun dash of old world mythology."

Sennel stuttered. "But..b but I cant turn into a werewolf, that would  mean that Im crazy!" He said as he felt his new body through paws that  hadn't been his until a minute ago. As his mind raced a new feeling of  cold determination soothed his mind. "No. Im not crazy. This stuff  really exists. I HAVE to turn into a Werewolf and defeat the Robot  Ninjas invading my museum! Its the only way to prove Im NOT CRAZY!" He  growled, racing for the door in a frenzy of teeth and lycanthropic  muscle as the robots finally kicked it in and started pouring in.


***


Sennel delicately brushed the dirt off the cracked pot he had  unearthed. This dig site was easily the hottest one he had worked at  yet but it was worth it. Egypt was quickly proving to be the highlight  of his career as an archeologist thus far.

He grinned up at Kendra as she handed him a canteen full of water. As  he drank he stood up and stretched his aching limbs out, eyeing the  setting sun lighting up the desert horizon.

Kendra followed his gaze. "Do you want to close the dig down for the  night?"

Sennel smiled and wiped the water off his muzzle. "We have still got a  couple hours of time to work in today." he said to the Sphinx before  turning to the mish mash of mythological creatures and dusty humans  working to unearth this ancient Egyptian ruin. "Come on people, step it  up a bit! Weve got myths to bring back to life!"

36

Writer's Guild / Muhmorpaguh

« on: December 21, 2010, 10:19:53 AM »

This is my Christmas Exchange story. I'm posting it here to get some feedback before I actually send it to the person on the 25th.

37

Writer's Guild / Fursuit Fragments: End or Beginning?

« on: October 16, 2010, 06:12:11 PM »

As most of you probably know, I've been working on my half of a trade with Traxer and have been trying to come up with a story about a person who turns into an animate fursuit. The result of my efforts is the scene below which takes place after the character becomes an animate fox fursuit. I'm posting the scene in order to get some feedback about whether it should be the opener (thus making the rest of the story 'what happens next') or the finisher (thus making the story 'what happened before').

===

The smell of batter and the sizzling of fresh pancakes filled the kitchen. I wedged the spatula underneath one of the golden-brown discs and flipped it onto a plate.

A yawn came from behind. “Eeauwgh... what’re you doing in here, Notchy?”

I turned and saw Laura by the kitchen table with a tired-but-amused look on her face.

“Making breakfast!” I yipped happily as I flipped another pancake onto the plate.

She giggled. “Aren’t you a bit too flammable to use the stove?”

“Naw, I’m careful.” I shrugged as I delivered the plate to the table.

A raised eyebrow. “So where’s your left foot?”

“Huh?” I looked down at the empty space where my footpaw should have been. “Oh, right. I spilled some batter on it when I started and threw it in the wash since I’ve got the ad shoot today. Thanks for reminding me—mind grabbing it out of the dryer while I finish up here?”

Laura rolled her eyes but left for the laundry room. I turned back to the stove and turned off the burners before cleaning up. A sudden tickle rushed through me just as I finished loading the dishwasher. “Heeheehee! Watch how you hold it! Just ‘cause my pawpads are foam doesn’t mean they aren’t ticklish!” I laughed.
 
“Sorry!” Came the answer from the other room. Laura re-entered holding my left foot. “Honestly,” she said as she passed it to me, “if you keep relying on me to notice these things you’ll literally lose your head one day!”

“Aww, but you’re so good at it!” I teased as I put my paw back on. I gave it a wiggle. “There! Now then, I’ve gotta run or I’ll miss the shoot!”

“You’re not eating?”

I shook my head. “Naw, eating slows me down. Gotta be bouncy for this.” I hopped playfully for emphasis.

“Nervous?”

“You know me, Laura, I’ve got thread nerves.”

A laugh. Laura gave me a hug. “Thanks for the breakfast. Remember to have fun at the shoot, ok?”

My tail wagged as I nuzzled her back. “Don’t worry about me. I always do.”

38

Writer's Guild / Comission: Sunsets and Sunlight

« on: October 12, 2010, 12:58:29 PM »

My most recent comission. The person wanted a story set in the Housepets universe where he gets turned into his fursona. He also requested a romance with the bat named Cy, who I think is a friend's fursona. First time writing a romance scene.

39

Writer's Guild / Minecraft Fanfic: Colonist

« on: October 02, 2010, 11:32:52 AM »

I DID NOT WRITE THIS! This story was written by Kris Schnee and I am reposting it here with his permission.

40

Writer's Guild / Lunacy

« on: October 01, 2010, 04:13:05 PM »

The full moon leads to many strange things!

"If you walk down the street nude while firing an uzi and waving a machete, panicked citizens will call the police and say, 'There's a naked person outside!'" --Someone Who's Name I Can't Remember

41

Writer's Guild / Stonewood

« on: September 27, 2010, 10:28:37 PM »

Based on a somewhat exaggerated view of my experience with academia. Sometimes you just gotta have fun, right?

42

Writer's Guild / Testing Tastes

« on: September 21, 2010, 08:35:44 PM »

Decided to play a bit with William's Soda Shop. Just a fun and silly thing, but I hope you guys like it!

43

Writer's Guild / King's Pride

« on: September 18, 2010, 06:23:33 PM »

This story is set in the Pig and Whistle universe. To learn about the setting please read http://shifti.org/wiki/Pig_and_Whistle

the TL/DR version though is that there's a disease called Blowtorch Fever ("The Torch") that turns about 30% of its victims into furries ("teefers").

44

Writer's Guild / Bad Wolf

« on: August 15, 2010, 01:40:51 PM »

I'm going through a werewolf phase, have a weakness for the Big Bad Wolf, and have been reading Agatha Christie. This is the result.

45

Writer's Guild / Comission: The Potion-Maker's Result

« on: July 25, 2010, 06:27:16 PM »

Ok, so the name isn't the best but this is the comission I did for Virmir. He wanted me to write a story to go with his Giant Taur Potion picture, and I was happy to oblidge. I was aiming for the idea of a 'dramatic fairy tale' when I wrote this so I hope the tone is right.