The Sorcerer’s Scrolls
Issue 47
The Sorcerer's Scrolls Magazine #47
Published by Zarathustra Publishing owned and operated by Jeremiah Griffin
Title owned by Tori Bergquist used here with permission
The Sorcerer's Scrolls title font and Zarathustra Publishing logo designed by: Simon Tranter
Random Encounter and Article Chart
D20
Page Article
Author
1-2
2
Gathas of the Editor
Jeremiah Griffin
“3D6 emancipated kobolds with a knapsack attack”
3
3
A Note from the Zodiac God
Tori Bergquist
“1D4 Varicolored Slimes ooze forth”
4-5
4
I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream (Review)
Dan Lambert
“A Pack of 4D10 rabid space hyenas”6-7
6
Deep Space Subsector 2
Tori Bergquist
“1D10 Giant Space Slugs regurgitate all over your ship”
8-9
8
A Sea of Stars: The Devil Among Us (Script) Jeremiah Griffin
“1D30 Flying Space Pigs sully your bussard ramjet”10
15
Book and Music Reviews
Various
“The Executioner knocks you off course in its hyperspace wake”
11-12 19
Death on the Toilet
Robert Stikmanz
“1D1,000 Rabid Sulurian Zombie Rats invade the cargo hold”
13-14 24
The Day They Came
Gregory J. Saunders
“Protean Squirrels offer you the secret of immortality, but they were just kidding”
15
26
Interview with Gregory Saunders
Jeremiah Griffin
“5D8 storm troopers are engaging in target practice”
16
29
Interview with Kirt Hickman
Jeremiah Griffin
“One intergalactic used starship salesman with a great offer”
17
31
Saga Edition Update to Races
Elijah Hammond
“Cyborg assault team is on break and using your ship’s commissary”
18
37
Artists, Artisans, & Workers
Jarrod Camiré
“The last Furion just shanked you”
19-20 46
Valkyrie E17
Harrison Mallory
“You discover the galaxy’s largest diamond, but it’s in the heart of a quasar”
Cover art by Nathan Carlisle [email protected]
Valkyrie E17 map by Harrison Mallory
Other art by Kathleen Finn
[email protected]
All are used with permission
Special thanks to Robert Stikmanz
The Sorcerer’s Scrolls #47 is copyright 2010 by Zarathustra Publishing, all rights reserved.
The magazine title “The Sorcerer’s Scrolls” is a trademark of Nicholas Bergquist, used with
permission. All contents copyright 2010 by the respective authors or artists.
Gathas of the Editor
Welcome to The Sorcerer’s Scrolls #47
By Jeremiah Griffin, shiny new editor of TSS
The two things you are probably wondering about now are: Who are you and why is this issue so late? The reason this issue is so late is due to the fact that there have been several changes in the way this magazine is being produced, not the least of which is the fact that I am the new editor. The reasons for this are varied and many. Mr. Bergquist is an amazing writer capable of bringing together many other amazing writers to build what is The Sorcerer's Scrolls. He is also a very good friend of mine. But the challenges of holding down a quarterly magazine and still trying to write his own game books is taking its toll, he accepts nothing from himself but perfection and in trying to run his own gaming company and hold a day job, something had to go, as he is not willing to let anything simply tag along as an inferior side thought. So I offered him another option, to let me take over the magazine while he continues to do what he does best: writing game material. He will still be a fixture at the magazine and he will continue to own it and have a major influence on how it is run. I hope to maintain the flavor of his magazine throughout my time with it. In my own opinion I hope to continue this magazine if only to make sure there is still an old school style fanzine out there for the old school gamers to read, and I hope gamers both old and new continue to enjoy the content that we continue to put out and I want everyone to know that it will be quality.Another reason this issue is so late is because we recently attended Bubonicon, a local Sci-Fi convention of some small note. Personally I thought of attending this even as something of a coming out party, of letting everyone know that we are going to more aggressively pursue an ever expanding readership and that we will continue to search everywhere for talented writers, designers and artists for our magazine. So if you are a writer or game designer or artist, please do not be afraid to contact us and let us see your ideas! We are not the kind of company that only supports the latest edition of the most popular role playing game. We avidly support all games, especially the
independent and less known titles. If your stuff is good, you will get published!
Which brings us to our third reason this issue is so late: we would like to introduce you to some of the talents we have discovered recently in this issue and we had to make a little extra time for them to be able to produce something worth your time. In the future we will be much more strict about deadlines, but I just needed our readers to discover the talents of Elijah Hammond and Harrison Mallory as soon as possible. On top of this I would like to thank Robert Stikmanz and DJ Fahl for their continued support and to wish Mr. Stikmanz well with his new publishers Blue Moose Press. We shared a table at Bubonicon and will continue to help support each other over the web and at each coming event and convention we participate in. Thank you. And thank you, our readers for continuing to read our magazine even though the popularity of the medium is slowly shrinking. We know you expect the best from us since there are so few gaming magazines around these days and we wish to give you only the best
As to who I am, I think you will find that I have had articles published in this magazine several times before. I particularly enjoy writing fiction (though if you never cared for my writing don't panic, given the time it takes to edit this publication, I will have little time to write many articles), and come from a literary back ground. I have been running games since I was a toddler, though the idea of using rules never even occurred to me until just a few years ago, so many of the games I run or participate in seem to have few restrictions. I enjoy ideas that are fun, filled with action and strange humor, with unlimited possibilities. I write for players who like the role playing more than the roll playing, players who like to explore their own characters and the world they are in more than they care to beat the next challenge. I do realize that not everyone feels that way, though, so I welcome anyone who wishes to write differently and always support games and supplements that are structured and logical as well.
--Jeremiah Griffin August 30th 2010
A Note from the Zodiac God
By Tori bergquist, the crusty old editor and former publisher
Hallo! Welcome to Issue 47, and welcome to thefirst issue in which Jeremiah Griffin has taken on reigns as the editor and publisher under
Zarathustra Publishing. I think it will do quite well with him in charge. I’ve helped out in the transition, doing the layout, graphical polish and some last minute editin , and you will of course continue to see game and fiction articles I
contribute, but he is indeed correct in the fact that I am so heavily absorbed with the other projects (namely Realms of Chirak and its anticipated supplements as well as the 4E edition of Empires of Lingusia) that with what little time I have free, precious little has been available to dedicate to TSS. Handing the magazine over to him seems like a great way to insure it gets proper attention. Bubonicon, as Jeremiah mentioned, has indeed come and gone, and it was a great deal of fun, and I especially enjoyed meeting Robert Stikmanz in
person It has also convinced me that we should attempt to attend more conventions in the future, including both SF, Game, and Comic conventions to help get the word out about TSS and the other myriad publications of Zodiac God Publishing. As a side note, I would like to do a shout out to regular contributor Jarrod Camiré, who recently established his own publishing venture through One Book Shelf called Tarus Twelve. Take a look for his stuff on rpgnow.com, where the second book in the multi-system Encounters series is now available!
Anyway, Jeremiah operates on a boundless well of raw enthusiasm, has some amazing recruitment skills for new talent, and is an amazingly good natural PR guy. Thank you Jeremiah for the work on this issue, and here’s to more to come!
--Tori Bergquist September 3rd 2010
I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream
Review By Dan Lambert
“1 have a secret game I like to play. It's a very nice game.
A game of fun. A game of speared eyeballs and dripping guts ... "
So says the self-proclaimed god of the world created by author Harlan Ellison for his short story, "I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream." It has been thirty years since Ellison
chronicled the events surrounding five damned souls trapped for 109 years in the electronic belly of an insane computer. With the help of Cyberdreams, Ellison has brought his dark vision into the realm of a new medium by creating a CD Rom role-playing game based upon his award-winning story. The "Scream" computer game is eerie, thought-provoking, and shockingly stark in its autopsy of the human soul. In other words, it is all things Ellison. Anyone who has ever heard Ellison read one of his stories will be happy to know that he outdoes himself here, playing the voice of his maniacal creation. The game takes place in the subterranean bowels of AM, a monstrous entity who began its "life" as Allied Master Computer, a massive thinking machine that was buried in the earth
to help the free world fight World War Three more efficiently. The trouble began when AM became self-aware and decided to link up with its counterparts in Russia and China, forming a prison that the last remnants of humanity must struggle to escape. AI"I
reinvented itself as "AM: Cognito ergo sum, I think, therefore I am." Like Frankenstein's creature, A~ has learned to hate its creators with a loathing that is tangible in its razor-sharp richness.
The player may choose one of five "damned souls" to embark upon a quest concocted by AM. Each of these five last remaining humans has a character flaw that AM enjoys exploiting for its own amusement. Gorrister is a suicidal loner, a man whose wife's bitter fate has left him overcome with guilt. Ellen is a brilliant engineer whose uncontrollable phobias leave her paralyzed with fear. Ted is a cynical paranoid, a "fraud" in A...,'s estimation. Benny is AM's favorite torture subject, a Vietnam veteran transformed into an ape-thing by the computer's vengeful whim. Nimdok is an ancient and tormented sadist whose own dark secrets compel AM to refer to him as a "kindred spirit."
Because AM is mad, his "quests" are relatively pointless in their promise of escape or material reward. The real object of "Scream" is not to accumulate cash or to find a way out. The real object is to show AM the value of humanity by demonstrating a sense of ethical balance in a world gone insane. The player can tell how well she is doing this by monitoring the "spiritual barometer" which appears as a green hue behind the chosen character's face and is supposed to gauge the character's "self-esteem." As the character makes choices that help him or her overcome the weaknesses that AM preys upon, the hue becomes brighter. This is the closest I have come to "winning" the game, although I suspect that concepts such as winning and losing are not as important here as what the
character learns about herself. In this sense, "Scream" is a true role-playing game. Some of the moral choices that AM forces upon the characters are chilling in their human resonance. The Nimdok adventure is particularly haunting in its portrayal of the Holocaust from the
point of view of the perpetrators.
I have always argued that the story upon which this game is based is not a science fiction story at all, but a horror story. The game underlines this notion, with its scenes of blasted landscapes and macabre slices of life recalling the dark art of Goya and Bosch. I found myself actually having nightmares after playing. To a horror writer such as myself,
this is a good thing: a very good thing. My hat comes off to Ellison and the folks at
Cyberdreams for the same reason it came off to David Lynch after I saw his film Lost Highway: This game managed to truly scare me, which is not an easy thing to do.
This game is
available for
purchase at
www.Amazon.c
om.
Deep Space Subsector 2
A Collection of Linked Fringe Worlds for Traveller
By Tori Bergquist
There are many remote worlds in the Penumbra Sector of space, stretching out along the edge of the known Commonwealth. What follows is a smattering of planets from this region, in Deep Space Subsector 2, ready for the referee to drop down in to any particular region he needs to populate with a handful of exotic, remote worlds.
Regeren
X873500-1(C) Tmp 9
Regeren is a wasteworld, a relic planet that suffered a terminal meltdown to do as yet unknown causes approximately 2,000 years ago. It was founded by human colonials, possibly from a STL sleeper ship, almost 4,000 years ago. The Regeren culture was prolific and expansive, but something led to its downfall. Warfare is clearly evident, and they even seem to have dropped asteroid payloads on their own cities as weapons. There is no active starport at Regeren, but there is a small scientific research expedition headed bu the Utopia Prime Exoarchaelogical Institute. The leader of this expedition if Prof. Carol Dranir, who is workinghard to uncover the myster of what happened to this TL 12 society before it was eradicated, and whether they did it to themselves or it was from an outside group.
There is a hidden class D starport manned by the Sathar Consortium in the region, and used by friendlies to the Sathar normally labeled pirates in Penumbra space.
Recently, the four communications relay beacons and satellites in orbit went offline, and Prof. Dranir needs them repaired/replaced, as well as info on what happened to them. Moreover, visitors arriving will receive a brief, strange burst of data from groundside that seems to have come from a relic structure; the data is encrypted using techniques common to Regeren’s military.
Vortex
C632314-C
Tmp 3
Vortex is the appellation commonly used to describe what happens to crafts’ instrumentation when approaching this world….to most it’s like “slipping in to a vortex.” This anomalous
amber-class world is presently being studied by the Starcom Science Institute out of Paridas for evidence of what is going on here, both on the planet and in the system. The head of the institute, Dr. Richard Chandler, is a congenial fellow who decries the corporate military presence to be found here in favor of the scientific
endeavors. He believes that evidence of
progenitor technology—the local phenomenon of the two-million year old species which affected so much of this sector and its neighbors so long ago— may be responsible for the anomalies, but so far the only direct evidence of progenitor presence is in the form of a vast dish-like object circling Vortex’s sun in its own trajectory near the Kuiper belt.
Recently, Dr. Chandler lost contact with his crew working on the alien artifact, and he needs someone to investigate.
Paridas
A210686-E
Tmp 2
Capitol of this subsector and central station of activity for the TSA, the PSS and The Scout Service. Paridas is as close to normal as you will get in Deep Space Subsector 2. The planet serves as a principal waystation for local authorities as well as
Commonwealth ships, and is the central hub in the region for interstellar communications and news. With multiple outlying gas giants, the system provides ample resources for ships relying on processed refueling, and it is heavily patrolled, insuring that most pirates and other raiders from beyond the rift do not bother the mercantile traffic in the region.
Than’kk
BA68763-B
Tmp 8
A polity of Paridas, this world has a large migrant population of adapted humans as well as the local indigenes called the Athan’ka, which are a form of intelligent cetecaean. The population has thrived here for centuries, but most of its technological evolution has revolved around adapting to life on a water world.
Skaltin
D665671-A
Tmp 6
Skaltin is the first gateway world in this region to the Penumbra Nebula expanse. Skaltin is a virtual lawless planet, populated by succeeding
immigrant waves of various extremiss,
revolutionaries and expatriates over the centuries. It has arranged for a nominal political position in the Penumbra Collective, allowing the PSS to maintain a base of activities here, but there is little actual authority in the region outside of the twelve “families” that keep the system running. There is a
vigorous local economy centered around belt mining and fuel extraction from the three jovian-class planets in-system. The “twelve” like the PSS here mostly as a deterrent from rampant piracy. The local PSS commander is
Commodore Alice Burns, a weary older woman who at once is horribly pessimistic, but secretly loves the challenge of this system.
Gassar
E100302-C
Tmp 2
Gassar is a small indendent colony of rebels who believe that jovians (4) of the system show strong evidence of intelligence life brewing in their depths. The locals are cult-like in their observation and study of these beings, and have been trying tocommunicate with them for two decades. Gassar itself is a small barely habitable moon, and it is unclear how they sustain themselves with such meager facilities and limited contact. Their leader is Andon Poorman, a man wanted by the Terran Authority many sectors away for a veritual genocidal crime many decades ago.
The Sathar have a secret military installation here, and they are interested in the work going on at Gassar, so they provide funds and resources in exchange for the data the colony generates. It is a class C military outpost.
The Devil Among Us
A Graphic Novel, Minus the Graphics, in the Sea of Stars
By Jeremiah Griffin
Page 1. Single print depicting small meteors, comets, distant planets, an asteroid belt and, of course, stars. All rather distant.
Word Box 1. (Upper left side of page).- A distant plane. A point in infinite space. Myriad giant orbs sparkle in the distance as if they are so very small and fragile. Mere tiny glitters against the endless darkness that is their canvas. A few small orbs slowly spin in exotic colors as though they are quite monstrous. Such unimaginable beauty can only be found in the deepest of oceans.
Page 3-4. Two page spread. Back ground similar to previous page. Foreground depicts some type of star ship. Sort of a triangular shape (reference modern battle cruisers and aircraft carriers) reaching from the lower right corner of page 4 to the middle right side of page 3 where the “front” of the ship lies. The complete rear of the ship (rockets and such) need not be depicted at this time.
WB 1. (lower left side of page 3 out of the way of the ship).- A glimmering silver mass. A tiny ship traverses this space. Carrying aboard many brave sailors who dare to set off in this infinite black of night in this metallic ship that reflects the millions of tiny gold and silver sparkles of far away orbs. A ship and its mariners daring to sail across a distant
sea.
A sea of stars.
Page 5. Full page spread. Change view on ship to downward side angle. To the side of the ship, another has approached. This one is mush smaller, barely a fourth the size of the previous one. This one is older looking, and has noticeable repair-work, burn marks, and small holes on it's surface. Painted on its side is the name Muller-Hayes.
Page 6. Inset: (small square in upper left corner) Shows close-up and detail of cannon protruding from the smaller ship. The rest of the page is similar to previous, except there is a small star burst emanating from the cannon on the smaller ship. Across from the glow on the smaller ship, there is a proportionate glow coming off of the larger ship. Connecting the two is a thin stream of small sparkles and glitter. This is important, as a laser does not appear as a stream of light in real life, though any small debris caught in its path would reflect its light and glow as it heats. WB 1. (Lower left side of page).
An intrepid little vessel dares to challenge the silver warship. A tiny red glow erupts forth from its hull. Almost instantly, a red glow
blossoms on the hull of the silver battle ship. Betwixt the two red lights, caught in the invisible stream of light, tiny meteors glow red, then yellow, then white before bursting into a free floating shower of glittering particles. The first volley has been played.
Page 7. First panel: A long corridor, marked by
large, tightly sealed doors, which are evenly spaced. Centered toward the ceiling of the spaces in between each door is a siren light. These lights are flashing, and emanating the sound:
RRRNNGGH!! RRRNNNGG!! Second panel: The Bridge
(Four or five sturdy looking men should be seated at control panels, one at a type of captain's chair. Try not to look too Star Trek. The control room should be more cramped, the controls should look less complicated, but there should still be many of them. Think modern submarines. Uniforms should be simple and neat.
COL11747- “Damn! Must have slipped in through that patch of asteroids. Probably just calculated their trajectory, gave their rockets a good fire, cut'm off to cover the heat trail, then followed that asteroid cloud strait to us.”
LUT28845- “We have a bead on her sir. The Muller-Hayes. Damn heretics find and lose new ships so fast. Hard to keep track of them. Do you wish to fire on her sir?”
COL11747- “And open a chink in our armour for that heat to get through? No. Find me a jewell. None too close to that hot spot.”
Third panel: (more alarms start going off). LUT28845- “What is that?”
COL11747- “Pipes. Just the pipes. Whole ship's got a maze of 'm. Full of liquid to cool the ship after firing the jets. These bastards don't know what they're aiming at, just hoping to get lucky. But their hot spots just over some cooling pipes. They over heat and start to burst if they aren't de-pressurized. Worst'll happen a few cells get flooded. Get the mechanics on it.”
(from a speaker phone somewhere). SGT09785- “Already on it sir!”
COL11747- “Good man, sergeant. --Now, were's my jewel? I want to send this bitch's heat right back to her.”
Page 8. First panel:
LUT49265- “I've got one. Not too close, not too far away. I'm guiding her in right now.”
COL11747- “Great. Let's hope they don't see this
coming.”
Second panel (fills the rest of the page): The Outside
(pictured is a close-up of a small hole opening in the side of the ship out from which races the jewel. The jewel should for all purposes look like a jewel: flat, glassy, smooth, reflective, like an elongated octagon from top view, which is the prominent view as it is very close to the ship's surface and is carried by small track-ball wheels that seem to hug the ship's hull. The machine makes a “tic tic tic” noise as it goes).
Page 9. (The page will contain multiple panels [you can decide how many and what dimensions seem appropriate to get the point across]. These panels will all depict the jewel racing across the surface of the ship from different angles the whole time going “tic tic tic.” From time to time the jewel will encounter dents and mars in the other wise smooth surface, when this happens, its hydrolics will be jostled allowing a slight glimpse at what on the underside of the machine be as creative as you like, just think something like the Mars rover. The page contains but one word box which can be placed where ever you like).
WB: Like a drop of water sliding down the surface of a silver faucet or an exotic insect scurrying across a steely pipe, the tiny shard traverses the surface of its mother as it is lead to protect her from those who wish her harm.
Page 10. ( All one scene. On one side of the page we see the jewel racing head-on, on the other we see the bright glow caused be the laser in the [not too far] distance. Sort of like the old movies where the hero is shown riding into the sunset). WB: Appearing much like the insect drawn to light, the little gem is lead straight for the bright glow caused by its adversaries. Will it, much like the insect drawn to the light, meet its own destruction in trying to prevent that of the silver vessel?
Page 11. The Pipes (This can all be done in one scene or it can use multiple panels. We see seemingly endless rows on columns of pipes. Men in full-body suites [like the old fashioned diving suites crossed with the ones from Halo] are hustle about. Some turning valves to release pressure, others tightening the pipes from which steam is spraying. One of the men in a slightly more distinguished suite than the rest is shouting.)
SGT09785- “Hurry. Hurry. We needed to be done with this section five minutes ago!”
Page. 12 Panel One (one of the men gets close to SGT).
CRP89703- “Good news sir. I have fixed out the circuits. Once everything is stabilized here, the computer can start automatically correcting this area again.”
SGT09785- “Good. Good. But I'm not sure we are moving fast enough. How are the Circuits in the other areas you repaired? Not melted again yet, are they?
CRP89703- “Not yet sir, though I think the fist couple may not have much longer left in them.” SGT09785- “Haven't they diverted that heat yet? What is taking them so long? Damn! I've got at least five cells filled with steam and water, a computer circuit that's going crazy, and-
Panel Two: (one of the pipes bursts releasing a large gush of incredibly hot steam which engulfs one of the men working to repair it and he lets out a blood curdling scream). SGT09785- “Damn it people hurry! If you could finish in time this wouldn't happen! And get that soldier to a medic!
CRP89703- “Is it really that bad sir?” Panel 3
SGT09785- “Not if this is all they have. At least not if this can be diverted soon. If that can happen we will have all the time in the world to clean up. But if they have something else to throw at us very soon. Things could get pretty messy.
Panel 4
SGT09785- (turning to the men at the pipes) “Haven't you gotten that pipe sealed off yet?” (A computerized voice comes over the speaker system): Jewel approaching afflicted area. SGT09785- “Finally!”
Page 13. The Outside
Panel 1: (the jewel is shown pulling into the glowing area).
Panel 2: (The jewel is now directly under the ray and the glow seems to emanate from the machine itself).
WB: The little bug dashes into the very fire which may consume it. Its diamond hard shell protects it for now will its jewelled surface reflects back the incredible light.
Page 14. The Class Room (An instructor stands in front of a large screen like that of a television or computer. The room is very large and contains many seats in each of which sits a student [late teens]. Rather than a desk, each student has a smaller personal screen. The instructor paces back and forth in front of his own screen while
explaining himself).
Panel 1: (The instructor stands to the side of the screen which currently shows the jewel reflecting the light back).
PRF20077- “As you can see the R360 unit or jewel, as it is often called, is being used to reflect back the light emitted from the attacker's laser cannon. This method is especially effective against a few small cannons. This method is, however more difficult to employ during an onslaught of multiple large cannons. Let me show you a close up of the R360 unit.”
Panel 2: (Zoom in on the screen showing the jewel which is zoomed in on the jewel itself). PRF20077- The outer shell is made out of metal which is in a clear state and hardened to a consistency slightly harder than diamonds. The inner shell is actually an amalgam of mercury and silicon. This material looks rather dark and is not very reflective outside of its shell, but once it heats up, it becomes one of the most reflective materials known to withstand such heats. The machine can now direct the beam of light in any direction the person in control of our device chooses.”
Panel 3: (Pacing about)
PRF20077- “Naturally, even the R360 unit can not take this heat indefinitely. The cannon must now be disabled. In some way. Any questions?” Page 15. The Bridge
Panel 1:
COL11747- “Got'cha! How do you like that? Okay I want you to start turning it back toward their own cannon. No trying to use it on their hull or anything, I don't want them to know we've caught their heat yet if we can help it. Just start putting it back where it came from.
Page 16. The Outside (Top displaying the adjacent ship sides, the glowing jewel and the depress that
glitters as it is caught in the path of the laser). Panel 1: (the ray is still facing straight out from the jewel)
COL11747- “Okay. Slowly now, tilt it toward the cannon.”
Panel 2: (the hydrolics on the jewel start to lift one side angling the glow slightly). COL11747- “Easy now. Easy.”
Panel 3: (the glow is angled a little closer to the cannon).
COL11747- “Good going. Just a little more.” Panel 4: (The glow is right on top of the cannon).
COL11747- “Great. Hold her right there.” Panel 5: (The opposing glows cease). COL11747- “Ha! Melted 'er. How do ya like that, fuckers!”
Page 17. The Bridge (Every one is pressing buttons and talking into head sets).
COL11747- “Okay. I'm sure they noticed that. So let's prepare for what they might try next. Start prepping the missile bay. I want a good score of them ready to fire if we need them in the next couple of seconds. Then, I need you to call six squads of fighters to their ships. That one is not too small to launch some fighters off of, I want to be able to meet and beat their numbers.” Page 18. (More scrambling about).
Panel 1:
COL11747- “Next I want you to get a hold of our man down in the chapel.”
Panel 2: “Something does not seem right about this. We have been encountering too many guerrillas lately, and they are all attacking rather than hiding. Something is not right about this at all.
Page 19. Launch Hall (Full Page. A group of men in flight suites [feel free to be creative], are running down a long hall way in order to reach their ships. Be sure to make it look as though they are really hurrying).
Page 20. The Pipes (The men are hard at work taking care of the very last of the leaks).
Panel 1: (SGT is over-looking the progress).
COL11747- (over comm) “How is the progress down there?”
SGT09785- “It's coming along sir.” COL11747- “How far?”
Panel 2:
SGT09785- “Just wrapping up the last with these pipes. We'll have to take care of the water a little later. They aren't trying anything else are they?” COL11747- “Not yet. Will we be ready if they do?”
SGT09785- “Only if they're nice enough to wait thirty minutes tell the pipes cool.”
Panel 3:
COL11747- “We may not have thirty minutes, sergeant.”
SGT09785- “I am doing all I can down here. It takes thirty minutes for these pipes to cool, otherwise they are much too volatile. Everything is sealed and soldered, but there is nothing I can do to make it cool faster.”
Page 21. Panel 1:
SGT09785- “With any luck they will not attack this same area with, whatever they might try next. With any luck they may not have anything left to send at us.”
COL11747- “With luck... But I don't think so. I think they might try to deploy some fighters.”
Panel 2:
SGT09785- “Sir. I'm damn sure we can not take a direct missile hit in this area for at least another thirty minutes.”
COL11747- “Any ideas?”
SGT09785- “All I can say is you have to keep 'em away from here.”
Panel 3:
COL11747- “I will see what I can do, sergeant. Mean while you do all you can do to get everything back in order down there.”
SGT09785- “Yes sir! And thank you sir!” COL11747- “Just keep at it.”
SGT09785- “Yes sir! Will do sir!” COL11747- “That's all, COL11747 out.” Page 21. (CRP89703 approaches SGT09785).
Panel 1:
CRP89703- “All done here sir.” SGT09785- “How are they cooling?” CRP89703- “As expected sir. Approximately twenty-six minutes till normal temperature.” SGT09785- “That's what I was afraid of.” CRP89703- “More trouble sir?”
Panel 2:
SGT09785- “We are to be ready for another attack.”
CRP89703- “When sir?”
SGT09785- “Soon, very soon. Though I hope they don't.”
CRP89703- “I know we all hope they don't, sir.” Panel 3:
SGT09785- “Have any of those circuits melted yet?”
CRP89703- “Not yet sir. In fact they might hold with the cooling having started already. I am a little worried about that first one, though. My monitor on it says it isn't cooling fast enough.” SGT09785- “Okay, I want you to take another with you and see to it. On your way tell them to start getting up that water. If we can be ready in time, I want to be.”
Panel 4: (CRP89703 is running off.) CRP89703- “Yes sir.”
SGT09785- “Good.” ... “I hope they don't attack.”
Page 22. (Full page, full body shot facing
SGT09785).
SGT09785- “I really hope they can't attack.” Page 23. The Bridge
Panel 1:
COL11747- “If I am going to have to keep them away from that spot, I am going to need some gunners.”
Panel 2:
COL11747- “Scramble all gunners near the hot spot!”
Page 24: (Full page depiction of a group of men running through a corridor. Their attire should look a little less restrictive than that of the pilots.” Page 25: The Garden (the garden is made up of many rows of blocks of various sizes. Every so many blocks has a tree growing out of it. These trees look like dead black bonsai, or the scary looking dead trees from the haunted forest).
Panel 1: (A tall sallow man in a long frock stands in front of one of the trees and stars out into nothing as though he were lost in thought or being enlightened).
LUT20097- “The colonel wanted me to speak with you. It is a matter of some importance.
Panel 2:
LUT20097- “He thinks someone on this ship might be giving away our coordinates.”
REV91287- (Finally acknowledging the other man) “Does he really believe one of these men could be capable of such a thing?”
LUT20097- “We both know that men... all men are capable of many great evils if they give themselves over to it.
REV91287- “No. I mean does he really think it would be physically possible to send out such a thing with out us realizing who was doing i, much less noticing that it was even being done?”
Panel 3:
LUT20097- “He is in the process of investigating the matter as we speak and we all hope to resolve the matter as soon as possible. But, in the mean time. He was wondering if you might work something into your words today to dissuade the men from doing so, to be more vigilant of those who might try such a thing, even to turn them selves in.... If possible.
Panel 4:
REV91287- (Reaching out as to the heavens) “Son, I only say what I have been told to say... by a commander with much more authority than yours.” ... “Fortunately, for you. I have received just such a message today.”
Page 26. The Class Room (The instructor is in front of the class still).
Panel 1:
PRF20077- “Now, pay close attention. You are here to train as fighter pilots. If you are very luck, you will get to see some in action today. You have already heard so much about how the controls work. I am sure you would like to learn something of how the weapons systems work.
Panel 2: (He holds out a capsule shape about the size of two fingers)
PRF20077- “This is standard ammunition on your average fighter. It is a bolt of a compressed plastic material. It is very sturdy. Because most fighters are made with sheets of metal or plastic only a few millimeters thick, these can do considerable damage. If one of these were to hit the hull of this ship we are in now, it would simply shatter.”
Panel 3:
PRF20077- “These are propelled by a set of wheels spinning at an incredible speed. They are fed at a fast pace in between these wheels which then send them from your vehicle with sudden and potent force. Because space is a vacuum with no resisting forces these projectiles continue with the same tremendous force with which they left.”
Panel 4:
PRF20077- “Now, as to missiles-”
Page 27. (Full Page above view. The gunners enter their gunnery turrets. Since the turrets are located on the sides of the ship, it looks a lot like a bunch of guys running into a hall full of broom closets.)
Page 28. (Out side view of the gunnery turrets) Panel 1: (Hatches on the exterior of the ship open and the turrets emerge). Rrrnsschh. Rrrnnsschh. Rrrnnsschh.
Panel 2: (Turret guns lower into firing position)
Mrr-Klnn. Mrr-Klnn. Mrr-Klnn.
Page 29. Panel 1: (View of Muller-Hayes' fighter
deployment hatch).
Panel 2: (View of silvery from possible perspective of Muller-Hayes)
WB: “With danger immanent the adventurous ship prepares for battle, but there is only one thing on the mind of its captain-”
Panel 3: (Panel depicts the colonel on the left in the bridge, and the sergeant on the right in one of the pipe rooms [both close-ups and appearing worried]. Panel is separated by the word box) WB: “Please don't attack.”
Page 30. The Chapel (can either be broken into panels, or one whole page).
REV91287- “and long ago... long before any of you can remember... there were many gods. Many, different gods for many different peoples. Yet, they all wanted the same things. Loyalty. Servitude. And most of all... Peace. Peace, and life, and love for all peoples everywhere... How strange it was then, that the people always turned to war, and death, and hatred. For they each saw their god as among them... Making them do what was right, standing behind them as they fought. Fought to eliminate all those who followed any god but their own. So the people created science. Science was beyond god. With out a god to kill for, they figured, there need be no death, finally, there can be peace. Yet, still there was death, still there was war and hatred for those who dared challenge science. In the end, science taught humans and helped them learn. And we learned of the true god. The one god. The god of true knowledge, true peace, and true love. The one god. Science could not replace him, but it could support him- could prove his reality. Science could show us all we know now of his nature. And the only thing he commands us to do is to learn. The only thing he commands us to love is our selves. This is why we can not study him. For he is not here among us for us to dissect and examine. To push us this way or that. But instead to lead us. To lead us to better things. He is always there. Just beyond our reach, allowing us to keep just behind him. Letting us learn more and more each day in pursuit of him through knowledge.
Page 31. Panel 1: (Muller-Hayes fighter deployment hatches, still closed).
REV91287- And back then, they believed in a devil. A being who lead them astray.
Panel 2: (Close-up of the colonel). REV91287- “Lead them to doubt-”
Panel 3: (Close-up of the sergeant). REV91287- “Lead them to fear-”
Panel 4: (Close-up of the reverend). REV91287- “But it is we who doubt. We who fear. Us as individuals. And the devil-”
Page 32. (Full page of Muller-Hayes with inset at the bottom)
REV91287-
(above inset) “-The Devil is among us...”
(inset: MH deployment hatches open and enemy fighters begin to spill out).
Reviews
By Jeremiah Griffin, Dan Lambert and Tori Bergquist
Worlds Asunder
By Kirk Hickman
This is the kind of fun book you pick up and then forget how long you have been reading for. It moves very quickly and is certainly engaging. Probably the best thing I can say for it is how much it reminds me of old school science fiction, like Asimov and some of Heinlien's best, Hickman's worlds are not packed with alien monsters bent on the destruction of all humans the come across. His story involves complex political plots and
theoretical technology. While his story is strong, where he shines brightest and brings the reader back to the younger days of sci-fi is when he analyzes current technology and recent scientific discoveries to try to calculate where technology may be in the future. His descriptions of what new technology exists and the way he simply implies the natural evolution it has taken from what we have now to meeting the specific needs we will have once life in space becomes more common and how it will function in that time are truly the gems all readers of this genre look for when reading.
--Jeremiah Griffin
Light from a Distant Star
By Greg Saunders
Light From A Distant Star is written for readers like me. People who enjoy a lot of really creative ideas and a lot of fast paced action. It is a tale of survival on a distant and completely alien world, of the struggle of man against nature, a nature entirely foreign to the characters. It is the story of different cultures, and of how they form or dissolve over time and reform with more time. It is the story of man's first contact with alien life forms. Many of these ideas may not be
particularly original, but the story certainly is and the way it is told is nothing short of magnificent. Greg Saunders has accomplished his goal in making an environment that the reader can experience, the fact that it is so very alien only makes his talent that much more amazing! If you really want to sit down and enjoy a great story with a lot of action, this is the book for you. I can't wait to read the rest of the series!
Freehold
By Michael Z. Williamson
My initial foray into the future worlds of Michael Z. Williamson began with his first novel Freehold, which is available as part of Baen’s free library online, serving as an axcellent literary gateway drug to induce you in to buying his other books (as I did). Freehold is the story of Kandra Pacelli, a luckless military supply officer in the Earth military who is framed for a crime she didn’t commit, and is forced to seek refuge with the remote
independent world of Freehold. The novel manages to transcend mere military SF, though Williamson is astoundingly good at the genre, and enters surprisingly interesting territory as a sort of libertarian fantasy. As a small-l libertarian myself (believing that the ideal libertarian society is defeated only by man’s own inability to handle the requisite social contract) it was fascinating to read the details of this carefully constructed “libertarian utopia” as I would describe it, and the slow but certain rise in tension as the book progresses between Freehold and the ominously authoritarian government back on Earth. Well worth reading for those who enjoy vigorous military and social science fiction alike.
--Tori Bergquist
The Mark of Nerath
By Bill Slavicsek
This is the first official novel (so far as I can tell) set in the “Points of Light” setting for the 4th edition Dungeons & Dragons game. Up to now all we’ve seen have been short vignettes and articles hinting at the scope of this world in various game products; Bill Slavicsek as penned the first official tie-in, and I have to say it’s a rather fun ride. The novel opens up with a classic tale of adventure, a hunt for a dragon, and a subsequent twist (I’ll avoid spoilers) leading to a change of scene…many scenes, actually, as we follow the various tales of several different groups of unlikely heroes (and a couple thoroughly evil yet likeable villains) in the region of the Vale of Nentyr, the land upon which, a generation earlier, the thoroughly evil Empire of Nerath fell in to ruin thanks to some very, very evil business on the part of the last ruling emperor.
The book is laden with classic tropes of the genre, but its delightful to see the many iconic themes and features of the newest edition of the game take on their own life. This book helps to gel the default setting of the game in to something more meaningful, and Slavicsek’s writing is quick and efficient; the plot burns along at a breakneck pace and I found myself rather enjoying the various little interweaving tales of Falon, Magrath, Shara, Erak, Roghar, Tempest and many more. I should emphasize that I burned out on fantasy novels many, many years ago; I’ve read very few that I enjoyed at all in the last decade, and while
this book offered nothing specifically new to the genre as a whole, it nonetheless crafted a fine tale that carried along quickly and enjoyably. Well worth a read for fans of action-heavy fantasy or 4th edition Dungeons & Dragons!
--Tori Bergquist
Bash Down the Door and Slice Open the
Bad Guy
Edited by W.H. Horner
When I said I disliked most fantasy (rather, simply overdosed on it during my high school and college years) I should have clarified and
mentioned that there are two subgenres I love. The endlessly amusing swords & sorcery genre that Howard started is one; I also have a desire for good satirical/farcial fantasy novels. Suddenly we have a collection of short fiction from Fantasist Enterprises that has the best of both worlds within. I snagged a copy at Bubonicon 42 in Albuquerque, and found myself stricken by this novel’s impressive collection of well-told nutty fantasy tales.
Most of the names in this collection are new to me, but every single one was worth the read, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for more stories by these authors. From Jeremy Yoder’s “A Lesson in Heroics,” feraturing sordid tale of Horab the barbarian on to “The Great Thrakkian Rebellion” by Megan Crewe (in which the minions get fed up with the overlord), each and every story within is a breath of fresh air in the genre of humorous
fantasy. There are a few more well-known authors within as well, including K.D. Wentworth and Lawrence C. Connoly and Jim Hines. There may be others who are popular but merely writers I haven’t heard of; I intend to get better acquainted with the works of everyone in this tome, however; it’s pretty rare that I come away from an anthology like this that there wasn’t at least one dud, yet that’s exactly what happened.
I strongly recommend Bash Down the Door and Slice Open the Bad Guy to everyone who loves the blended genre of humor and fantasy, you won’t be disappointed.
--Tori Bergquist
Bringing Down The Horse CD Review
Jakob Dylan's voice is tinged with the mournful whine that made his father the world's most famous folk-rock singer. Dylan's band, The Wallflowers, has made a name for itself on MTV because of the stark video for its single 1 "One Headlight." Their debut album, Bringing Down The Horse (Interscope), suggests that there is much more to the Wallflowers than famous parents and top-ten videos.
The richness of this album hits you immediately in the form of the aforementioned hit single. "One Headlight" is like the Lovecraftian version of the Hansons' "Mmmm Bop": a maddeningly catchy pop song about a doomed relationship. "One Headlight" bristles with dark landscapes. When Dylan sings that he doesn't remember when his lost love "died easy of a broken heart disease," you believe him. When he describes her funeral,
you can almost feel the misty rain pummeling her headstone.
The album moves forward from "One Headlight" to heights of artistic excellence that continually prove that we are not dealing with one-hit wonders here. Mournful ballads like "Sixth Avenue Heartache" and "Three Marlenas" still resonate with infectious melodies that make it difficult not to sing or at least hum along. "The Difference" is the best straight-out rocker on the disc, and its
celebratory mood contrasts sharply with the mournfulness of "One Headlight." After repeated listenings, I have begun to realize that Bob is not the only Dylan destined to make a mark on the face of popular music.
--Dan Lambert
Death on the Toilet
By Robert Stikmanz
Although no moon shone, the lowering clouds trapped enough light from the neighboring subdivision to illuminate forty yards of ditch cut into the old man's property. Bigger MacGregor stood at the window of the home he shared with his youngest granddaughter and her son, remembering the band of mixed growth he had spent a decade bringing back from naked caliche. That narrow strip of restored savanna had been the pride of the entire MacGregor family until adjoining woods were claimed by the nearby city under extra-territorial jurisdiction. Using the same authority they had seized the plot of MacGregor land as right of way, and signed off on destruction of both woods and strip by an outfit called Tremaine Developments. News cameras looking on, the city's mayor had turned the first shovel of dirt to signal another bold step in the name of progress.
The vaporous yellow of reflected streetlights did nothing to beautify the scar of ditch bounding the MacGregor homestead. Eighty-two years old and a restless sleeper, Bigger stopped at the window at least once a night to grieve for his lost savanna and seethe at the memory of fat, pompous Duane Tremaine III, chewing a cigar while dismissing all protests with pieties about expanding tax base and the benefits of making “fallow lands” profitable. Turning from the window, Bigger opened his bathroom door to find Death sitting on the toilet. The old man stared for several minutes, expecting the spectral shape to contract and resolve into his great grandson, Paulie, or, failing that, into some other mundane presence, perhaps a burglar. The figure, however, remained what it was, its hood angled toward Bigger in such a way that the mortal man thought it stared back.
“So this is it, then?” Bigger asked.
The figure shook its head in answer, extending an arm not toward MacGregor but out to the side. Folds of its robe spread as it did so, becoming the feathers of an enormous wing. Hundreds of eyes peered from among midnight plumage, winking slowly and asynchronously as they studied the man, who blinked and studied back.
Suddenly, most of the eyes closed as one, clenching shut, and the figure appeared to hunch in upon itself. Bigger heard, or imagined he heard,
a ghost of the sound of bowels voiding, and a smell like concentrated calla lilies filled the bathroom. The palpable wave of scent pushed him back into the hall. In its wake, the many eyes opened again, appearing drained. Impressions not of his making took shape in his mind as MacGregor struggled to interpret what he assumed was a message from beyond life's pale.
“Unexpected stop. A consequence of working closely with Pestilence.”
From out of the black within its hood came a sound like Death moistening its lips. Bigger wondered about the etiquette of the situation, whether or not he should offer a glass of water, but he had no opportunity. The figure strained again, its arm pulling in slightly as the effort forced shut its many eyes. The smell of callas billowed out as Death again voided.
“Umnh!” formed as an impression in Bigger's mind. His own guts gurgled in sympathy. A moment later, the figure had regained its poise, if poise is an attribute one might ascribe to Fatality. It refastened its eyes on its accidental host. After an instant of what seemed like awkward hesitation, words took soundless shape in the mortal's head.
“There is an appointment that must be kept.” The specter pointed to a scythe standing against the wall directly in front of it. Bigger was sure no scythe had been there an instant before. He nodded toward it and smiled.
“No man waits for Death?” he asked. The figure shook its hooded head.
“Hardly original.” Even silent, the observation seemed weary. “No matter. Your assistance is needed.”
“Mine?” MacGregor's thoughts raced as he tried to discern what this declaration portended. With understanding came disbelief. “You want me to sub for you?”
The Reaper nodded, pointing more emphatically at its implement.
“I'm hardly qualified,” the man objected. “I'd have no idea what to do.”
Death jabbed its finger more forcefully, its silent voice ringing inside the mortal's skull.
“The scythe will lead.”
metal to the figure on the commode.
“Are you asking me to handle your appointment as a favor?”
Death shook its head, and started to jab once more but was overtaken by another spasm of voiding. Bigger snorted.
“What? Just because you have the runs you think you can draft any convenient body to handle your gig?”
The specter nodded, and pointed once more to the scythe.
“I don't think so,” the man resisted. “I have no idea how to go about harvesting somebody's life.” He started to back away from the bathroom, but the world suddenly stretched in a disorienting way, and he found himself standing outside, clad in Death's garment, clasping the tool of Death's trade. Inside his head he heard a fading echo, “The blade will lead. Follow the blade....”
As if cued by these instructions, the scythe pulled MacGregor toward the scar of ground that had once been the back third of his yard. After ten years of building up depleted soil, removing invasive plants and restoring native vegetation, he had been forced to stand by as the crews of Tremaine Developments had dug out the strip to a depth of nine feet, making drainage for a gated subdivision that now occupied what had been fifty acres of forest. The Reaper's blade drew the man toward the lip of this ditch, where an enormous cottonwood had struggled to hold on, sacrificing more boughs month by month as it tried to contain its disrupted existence. Only the day before, Bigger had noted that a single branch remained in leaf, and that remnant foliage had looked none too healthy.
As he stepped beside the tree, the scythe came around of its own accord, sweeping in an unhurried, stately arc through the bole of the trunk. It met no resistance. When the blade had passed through, the trunk seemed unmarked, but after no more than a fraction of a second the remaining leaves let go with tiny pops, faint, but clearly audible to ears heightened by the office he filled. Astonished, Bigger felt life depart the tree. It came through him like a focused beam, like a tight flow of energy moving with the stateliness of the stroke that had released it. Its passage imparted a charge that both diffused throughout his person and concentrated in the blade.
“Not so bad,” he thought with relief, and turned back toward the house.
The scythe, however, was propelled by other intentions. It yanked him, with none of the earlier
gentleness, away from the tree and toward a small luminescence converging swiftly upon another even smaller. Though pulled at a speed surpassing anything in his experience, he still recognized the luminous bodies as a screech owl in the act of pouncing on a vole. Violence that would have dislocated his shoulders had he not been standing proxy for Death swept the blade in churning, chopping blows that paced the talons of the owl as they pierced vitals and snatched the prey. The rodent died shrieking. Its life, wee though it was, rocketed up Bigger's arms and out his back like a ghostly projectile.
“An appointment!” MacGregor yelled to the night. “You said 'an appointment.' That was two!” The contrast between the death of the vole and that of the tree could not have been greater. This tiny demise, which had gone through him like an infinitesimal pellet, shook him profoundly. In his human guise, such an experience would have brought him to his knees in grief. It was not that he was sentimental about voles. He was, actually, a good deal less sentimental about them than about the raptor dining on its catch even as the man—agent and witness—sought to recover. What was different was the churning of the event, the brutal turbulence. Whatever the creature's vitality or spirit or life essence may have been, it had shot through Bigger with pain and fear, rather than flowing with release as that of the tree had done. In one aspect, however, the two events were the same. The death of the vole had given him energy, and, even more, had energized the scythe.
Realizing this, that both he and the blade were fed by these mortalities, Bigger tried once more to turn home. When the Reaper's instrument again pulled him in another direction, he flung it, opening his grasp to release it to fall where it might. The fatal tool, however, would not leave his hands. Despite the strength with which he shoved it away, the smooth grain of its stock remained solidly against his palms. What is more, it drew him inexorably toward a third appointment. Ironically—at least, it seemed to him ironic—the line he traveled was the length of the ditch that ran now where his beloved strip of restored wild had been. He moved through the air a good nine feet above the bottom of the ditch, as though his role as Death's involuntary agent forced him to travel the ghost of a landscape that had ceased to exist. In his passage he felt, with a clarity absolute and unmistakable, the signature of each organism that had been snuffed during the excavation. Every
extinguished clump of grass, every uprooted shrub, every broken insect touched him with its identity.
“They died in their thousands for this ditch,” he sorrowed in his thoughts, and in his thoughts, felt as much as heard in answer, “Eight hundred thirty-six thousand, seven hundred seventeen eukaryotic deaths in that serial assignment.”
“Eukaryotes?” he wondered. “What about the bacteria? Is that number so huge not even Death will count them?”
No words formed in his mind, but he became aware of a conviction, something he had not known before, that prokaryotic mortality was handled in an ungraspably different arrangement. When a bacterium ended, it was in a manner other than death as he believed he understood it. On the other hand, the experience of this night placed everything he thought he knew in a rather different perspective.
Although he traveled at what must have been astonishing speed, the brush with hundreds of thousands of minuscule haunts made the journey of forty yards seem to take forever. At last, he passed the boundary from his insulted property into the new subdivision. Thankfully, he was spared hauntings from the myriad demises visited in that constructed habitat. Drawn by the scythe, he flashed toward this third encounter.
An instant later he stood before a house, the largest and most obviously customized among the blocks of repeating floor plans. Without ever having been there, Bigger knew this was home of Duane Tremaine III, the developer who had ordered destruction of his lovingly nurtured woodland edge. A surge of rage and grief smashed together in his core and erupted through him like a beacon towering into space. Hardly had he registered this storm of emotion, however, before he found himself inside the house. For a
heartbeat, he paused in the entry, just within the door. Another heartbeat later placed him at the foot of Tremaine's bed. The corpulent developer lay upon it, less asleep than unconscious, laboring to breathe.
As MacGregor realized he was again watching the final instants of a life, the scythe spasmed in his hand. The shock of it thrashed his arms. Clearly the implement had brought him to an
appointment with fury. In wielding the blade that sliced the thread of Tremaine's existence, Bigger would, in fact, become the instrument that would make the developer's death a mirror of the violence wrought upon the lost band of savanna.
The razor steel hungered toward the energy it was about to release.
“No!” MacGregor shouted, throwing himself back as the blade bucked forward. When the implement twisted right, Bigger, locking his will more than his muscles, yanked left. Answering, the scythe arced up, over his head. Body frail with all his eighty-two years but his determination sharpened by a lifetime of persevering, of refusing to give up, he knew that in conviction rather than sinew he would find his strength. As the scythe swooped to kill, the old man threw himself backward and rolled, to come up on his feet facing away from the deathbed. He held the implement braced in front of him, the curve of its edge looming above his head. In an instant, he knew without thought, as he had known the difference of prokaryotes, that his age meant nothing in the sepulchral role he played. If Death's blade was preternatural steel, the spirit of Bigger MacGregor was adamantine, and he would not be forced to carve even his enemy.
The scythe did not yield. It was not capable of yielding, but in this moment neither was the being charged to carry it. Bigger turned carefully, maintaining his grip on the instrument straining to chop and slice the figure in the bed. With hard-won deliberateness, he allowed the point of the blade to sink without hurry toward its target's chest. He could not impart grace to the movement, nor dignity, but, really, he had no interest in granting the developer a graceful or dignified death. What he could do, and what he did, was allow Duane Tremaine III to go quietly into never-ending night.
The blade sank inches into the expiring body, its fury reined as its tip pierced the center of a floundering heart. Bigger held it there motionless for a fraction of a second, refusing to allow the steel to buck and shred. Then, as Tremaine's life flowed up and out, he passed the razor curve through the new corpse in a single, smooth stroke. The developer's life force washed through the agent of his demise, leaving a residue of energy in both old man and implement as the now released livingness flowed on to wherever it went. Already dead, Tremaine's body gave up its last breath in an almost inaudible sigh.
MacGregor wasted no time over the body. He turned and stepped toward the door to the room. Immediately, he was outside. Another step found him at the lip of the ditch, and another found him back in the hall of his home, at the door of the restroom. Death stood waiting, eyes hidden in the
plumage of its winged arm again folded close like the deep sleeves of a robe. Bigger held out the scythe, and Death took it. For a moment the specter appeared to regard him curiously, but he would never know for sure what went on in the recesses of that hood. When the figure turned to leave, the man said, “Guess I'll see you soon.” Death stopped, seeming to hesitate. Once more, words formed in Bigger's mind.
“Not today.”
The mortal nodded. The Reaper turned away, fading as it did so, leaving no trace of its time in the bathroom except an overwhelming smell of calla lilies.
MacGregor stood in thought until a small voice called out, “Papa?” Turning, he saw his great grandson standing at the end of the hall. “Paulie?” the old man asked. “What are you doing up, son?”
“Papa, I had a dream. It scared me.” Bigger moved toward the boy.
“I'm sorry, little one. Come on.” He knelt, opening his arms to the child. “Let's go in the den, and Papa will rock you back to sleep.”
The boy sniffed as he stepped into Bigger's embrace.
“Papa, what's that smell?” he asked.
“Flowers, I think,” Bigger told him. “Nothing to worry about. It'll be gone by morning.”
Daybreak found man and boy asleep in the rocker, the child upon his great grandfather's lap, head against the frail, old chest. The boy's mother woke her grandfather when she lifted her son to carry him to his bed.
“Papa, are you all right?” she asked.
“I think so, sweetie.” Bigger stretched, his joints cracking as he straightened. “We just had dreams.”
Another six months elapsed before Death's appointment with Bigger MacGregor. The passing was not entirely painless, and it did not come when he was asleep, but the old man managed it with dignity and grace. His granddaughter had lifted a drowsing Paulie from his lap scarcely ten minutes before Bigger, again in the rocker, breathed his last.
Years later Paulie would note that his great grandfather had been wrong about the smell. Over time, it grew less cloying, but it never entirely disappeared. Even after centuries, the house long crumbled away, the subdivision turned, first, to desert, then slowly, ever so slowly again to savanna, a traveler passing the spot where the bathroom once had been would note an
unaccountable odor of calla lilies.
Advertisement
The Realms of Chirak
PULP ADVENTURE IN A
POST-APOCALYPTIC FANTASY WORLD
It has been two thousand years since the
Final War, the Apocalypse that sealed the
fate of the world and left the Twelve Gods
of the Zodiac Stones to bleed their last
upon the mortal soil of the world. Though
it was long ago, the consequences of this
ancient war still linger on a ravaged land
as civilizations strive once more to rebuild
in the face of a shattered cosmos.
This complete fantasy setting is fully
compatible with the 4
thedition of the
world's greatest fantasy role playing
system, and includes details on a vast
fantasy world, its gods, denizens, heroes
and villains.
Available in PDF at Rpgnow.com
In print at http://www.lulu.com/camazotz
Blue Moose Press Update
The news for close observers of Robert Stikmanzand the various products of my imagination is that a thorough reset has been in progress over recent months.
My basic contact information remains the same:
Robert Stikmanz
P.O. Box 66696
Austin TX 78766
[email protected]
Anyone interested in finding out more about my fiction and art, or staying current on all matters Stikmantic, can visit my website
(http://www.robertstikmanz.com) for all
manner of explanatory text—including my irregularly updated blog. For more topical, social media connection, Facebook is host to both my personal profile (facebook.com/robert.stikmanz) and a page devoted to my art and fiction(facebook.com/hiddenlandsofnod).
Blue Moose Press
(http://thebluemoosepress.com) will
rerelease my existing novels on the following schedule:Prelude to a Change of Mind, Book One of The Hidden Lands of Nod, on June 15, 2010
Entranscing, Book Two of The Hidden Lands of Nod, on July 15, 2010
Sleeper Awakes, Book Three of The Hidden Lands of Nod, on September 15, 2010
Blue Moose Press will also rerelease my fantasy divination system, Nod's Way, or Hidden Dragon, on August 15, 2010
Other books by Blue Moose Press include:
Rowan of the Wood by Christine and Ethan Rose
YA Fantasy. 978-0-9819949-0-1 $12.95 Indie Excellence Award Winner
After a millennium of imprisonment in his magic wand, an ancient wizard possesses the young boy who released him. When danger is nigh, he emerges from the frightened child to set things right. Both he and the boy try to grasp what has happened to them only to discover a deeper problem. Somehow the wizard’s bride from the ancient past has survived and become something evil.
http://www.rowanofthewood.com
Witch on the Water by Christine and Ethan Rose
YA Fantasy. 978-0-9819949-2-5 $12.95
Cullen thought he had enough trouble surviving school, dealing with his miserable home life, and being possessed by Rowan, a 1400-year-old wizard. But when Rowan’s wife, the sadistic vampire Fiana, comes back seeking revenge, Cullen and his band of misfits must do what they can to stop her. This time Cullen’s favorite teacher is Fiana’s first target.
http://www.witchonthewater.com
Avalon Revisited by O. M. Grey
Paranormal Romance. 978-0-9819949-5-6 $10.99 Arthur has made his existence as a vampire bearable for over three hundred years by immersing himself in blood and debauchery. Aboard an airship gala, he meets Avalon, an aspiring vampire slayer who sparks fire into Arthur’s shriveled heart. Together they try to solve the mystery of several horrendous murders on the dark streets of London. Cultures clash and pressures rise in this sexy Steampunk Romance.
http://omgrey.wordpress.com
--Robert Stikmanz
