Ataraxis
12-30-08, 11:36 PM
If you're wondering, #2 was this here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=16988).
Dear and fellow Althanians (and guests!),
This is the day that we return to you with the Weekly Spotlight! Aeons ago, when the height of all hygiene could be summed up to a leaf on a stick, we let all great threads in the making get a little spot in the sunshine, a little time to bask in the sweet, sweet limelight – and we’re going to do this a fair bit more often (perhaps even until the day this little feature stops being a blatant misnomer)!
Today, the writers that will receive recognition for their written work are many, but I believe they all deserve a good round of applause/inappropriate whistling! One is a newcomer playing a knight not in, but made of shining armour; another is an old member who returned after years spent on sacred, forest mountains in intense ascetic training; the last is a promising new member who writes with the vision of the most evocative haiku poets!
Lo and Behold, the names!
First in line, for the Award of ‘Best Introduction to a Whole New World’: KnightVanguard in To Call Down the Stars (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17838)!
It had been ten years since the borderlanders first started pouring into Republic territory from their fringe worlds. On tiny civilian craft never meant for interstellar travel. On regal cargo freighters that had spent the last years holding court in heaps of scrap. They were divided by race and language and creed, but one thing held them together then. Fear. That was the first warning, like birds fleeing before a gathering storm. And it was the last. Soon after, an alien armada descended upon the outer planets like a horde of locusts. Massive warships blackened the sky through sheer numbers when they came to bleed a world dry.
The Cyrian people had never seen an enemy so powerful… or so barbaric. Stealing every resource the horde left only smoldering ruin in its wake. Entire colonies reduced to nothing but charred bone and ash. The Cyrians tried their best to fight, but the enemy pressed in from every direction. World by world the Republic was being devoured by the beast that called itself the Therin Federation. Ten years and only the last ragged lines of defense remained. Wrapped in this tattered armor the home world Cyrus was far removed from the bloody turmoil. For now…
Cyrus
On a cloudless night the Grand Library was a smooth crescent that reflected the moon above. The dark horizon melted into the blue black ocean and it was hard to tell where either ended or if they both stretched on forever. Waves beat a soothing lullaby against the white sanded shore. That secluded beach held the last hope for the Cyrian people, and a more magnificent prison Jonah could not have imagined.
Out on the terrace the crisp ocean breeze stirred his dark hair, lazily carrying the sounds of laughter and music and the salted scents of the sea. The tree line flirted with the edge of the sand, whispering sweet nothings with its rustling leaves. The island breathed a sigh of relief after the day’s oppressive heat. It wasn’t cold, but Jonah welcomed Amanda’s warmth by his side. Her arms rested on the stone rail as she watched the festivities below, wisps of golden hair flowing behind her as the wind tugged playfully at her thin clothes. She was a green eyed vision, beautiful as any caged bird. Jonah smiled wistfully and took a sip of honeyed wine. He held his glass gently, rolling the drink in slow circles; for it felt as fragile as the mood. It was like a dream he feared to wake from.
This was the first time they found themselves relieved of duty in months. On the beach two stories beneath them the party was ringed by glowing torches and the other researchers swayed like the flames that lit the night. Servants in white made their way through the throng, granting food or drinks to any who wished it. Derek, a young man from Jonah’s own weapon’s division, twirled about a redhead whose name he couldn’t recall. The girl giggled and kicked up sand as she swirled. Others were paired as well, or chatting cordially with the friends they had made. They all glistened faintly in the firelight that embraced them and held back the darkness. “That looks like fun, doesn’t it?” Amanda asked without looking his way.
“Of course.” the lie tasted bitter, stealing the small pleasure of his drink. “But I’m not much of a dancer.” he finished absently. Reality was a shadow, ever present and hard to escape for long. For all the allure of the place, for all the supposed nobility of the cause that brought them there, he never found joy in it. Sometimes he was amazed by how well the others took their captivity. Just beyond the torchlight, not ten yards from where Derek pranced about, stood a man all in black. The soldier shifted his weight in the sand, moving a rifle from one hand to the other. Jonah could make out no others but he knew they were there. They were always there. The Republic had gathered its best and brightest to this place and had no intention of letting them go.
The Therin Armada made the nation fearful. It had made them desperate. The military found itself without restrictions and without morals. Many young scientists were “recruited” to work in places like the Library. The resulting advances in technology even seemed to stem the tide at first, but they were pillars of sand trying to push back the ocean. In the end what had once been the Republic’s most modest endeavor became its last hope for salvation.
Project Knight had grown into a chimera, absorbing the most fearsome pieces of the military’s failed initiatives. Energy weaponry, shielding, stealth technology, fusion power, artificial intelligence; everything was merged. Gravitational manipulation was the final piece of the puzzle. Recent development of the Gravitic Drive had made Cyrian ships the fastest in the known galaxy. Collapse two points in the fabric space into one and a bridge was formed, a wormhole. Ships could advance or retreat from battle in a fraction of the time, but even that was far from enough. Now a miniaturized version was supposed to give Knight the finishing touch. It would have been impressive if it weren’t sad.
“Why do you think he does that?” Amanda’s voice snapped him to the present. Her lips were pursed pensively, hesitant before the glass in her hand, “He stares at the stars endlessly if you let him. Like he’s never seen them before.” Her words were a bare whisper. The “he” she meant was standing on the beach below. It was the reason for the night’s celebration of wine and dancing, the first complete Knight Prototype: Vanguard. A humanoid figure garbed head to toe in ornate silvery armor, alone amidst the merriment and staring up at the sky. Two meters tall and lean as a man in his prime it was a symbol of Cyrian pride and an homage to the ancestral warriors for which it was named. Years of hard work and painstaking research, all for that jumped up robot. Tomorrow they would test its Gravitic Drive.
“Vanguard?” his cup clinked faintly on the railing as he lowered it with a grimace, “Maybe it’s distracted by shiny objects. I’ll ask the team working on its visual sensory system to do something about it before the final test. I’m sure that sort of thing would cause problems in the field.”
Amanda merely gave him a cool sidelong glance but, for the way he cringed inside, she may well have slapped him, “He is so much more than some weapon Jonah. Independent thought, free will—“
“…a ghost in the machine?” He finished for her with a raised eyebrow. “You think Vanguard is a genuine personality. A synthetic creature giving rise to a soul... That’s science fiction nonsense and wishful thinking. I thought better of you Amanda.”
She rounded on him then, eyes aflame with anger and passion, “Don’t you understand? He’s wasted on the war.” She relented when didn’t back down, letting out a heavy sigh that took her fight left with, “I’m recommending we keep him here after the rest are built. He deserves better.” Her voice was meek but her concern sounded almost maternal. It would have been moving in any other context. Now it only soured his temper further.
“We deserve better Amanda. I don’t remember volunteering for this seven years ago. I remember soldiers dragging me out of my University on Orion and shipping me here.” Everything had been so perfect until the Prototype found its way into the conversation. Into his life. The damned thing managed to ruin everything. He had wanted to wait for the right time to ask her, but the atmosphere was gone. This would be his last chance and it couldn’t go to waste. He clasped her bare shoulders, words flowing in a rush, “Let’s leave tomorrow. I can make arrangements. I can take you with me and we’ll be free of all this.”
“You can’t talk like that Jonah, it’s treason.” she shook her head, soft hands pushing against his chest as she avoided his eyes, “Besides our work is too important. Think of the people. If this fails… The Therins are merciless. They’ll raze every planet in the Republic if we don’t stop them.”
“To hell with the Republic and its people. We’re no better than slaves here.” Was she really so blind? “Mass production of the Knights is never going to win the war, nothing will. It’s past time we cut our loses.”
“I know you don’t mean that Jonah.” She started delicately, “And I know this has been hard on you. It’s hard on us all. But where would we even go if we left? Vanguard is the only chance any of us have. No matter what happens we can’t abandon him now.”
Vanguard? Vanguard? Would she really rather die with that thing than survive with him… “No.” He growled, “I’m done. Working on that damned droid has taken everything from me; my past, my home, my freedom. I will NOT let it take my life too.” He leveled an accusatory finger at the machine and clumsily swiped his glass over the railing. Too late he lunged to catch it, the red wine tumbling out of his reach to the sand in slow motion. The shrill cry of breaking glass was much louder than it should have been… the music had stopped. His colleagues were looking up in stunned silence; even the guard had taken note of the disturbance. A different gaze drew Jonah’s though. A shimmering blue visor set in a silver-white helm. Vanguard fixed him with an icy glare. But it was just a droid and such emotion was impossible. Jonah backed away from the rail cautiously in spite of himself, “You’ll wish you chose me.” He spat under his breath, turning from. His words hung stale in the air as he withdrew to his room.
And now, for the first honourable mention of ‘Most Jaw-Dropping Improvement’: Typheus in Lightbringer, Part I: Fallen from Grace (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17917)!
Typheus felt the wind rushing past him as he fell through an endless void of white light, when only seconds earlier, he was exploding a black hole to wipe out a portion of the galaxy. His mind raced for the explanation to his dilemma, but as he continued to think, he found himself unable to pull his thoughts together. Something was jamming his brain, like faint static in a radio distorting a favorite song.
“Typheus,” he heard a soft voice call, “are you there?” The confused soldier tried to answer, but found himself unable to speak. His mouth worked, but his voice was either being sucked away into a vacuum or else something was blocking it. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say a word.” The voice was much closer now, but still just as soft. The confused Typheus started panicking and was looking around madly to try and find out what was coming for him. In the instant that he could see an approaching form, he blacked out.
As the soldier awoke, he first noticed that the deafening silence of space was nowhere to be found, and neither was the rushing wind. The first thing he could hear was the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, and what sounded like the calls of wild animals.
As he started to sit up, making his arms sore in the process, his back started to burn badly and he let out a short yelp before falling back to the ground, which just made his back hurt worse and forced him to sit up again. He figured he passed out from overusing his new power and then fell through a planet's atmosphere. This worried him, though, as he was too strong from something as little as a fifty mile plummet to injure.
Trying to stand, Typheus immediately knew something was wrong. His legs buckled, his weight shifted forward, and he fell flat on his face in a mud puddle, cutting off his oxygen. Panic ensued as he flopped his arms around, trying to get a good grip on whatever he could to push himself up. When this failed, he finally rolled over onto his back and decided to rest for a bit.
He couldn't stand, he could barely sit, his nose was still covered in mud, forcing him to breathe through his mouth, and the only sound around was wild animals, which would spell death for him if any carnivores came along.
"Here, here," a booming gruff voice called out, "and I want another over there on that big one, and I swear my hand, Paulden, if you mess up and mark another granite stub, I'll bust your ass myself.”
There was only one chance, but, the fully formed words just didn’t want to leave his lips. Calling out for help was just too embarrassing for him after all that he had been through.
"H-he...OVER HERE!" he yelled, his mouth still gritty with mud.
"Dad, did you hear something!?" an unfamiliar voice called out. This one sounded like an early teen.
"I heard something, Ben." the gruff voice called back. "Probably Paulden talking to the damned squirrels again."
"Oh, for the love of-HELP!" Typheus yelled, becoming impatient with the obvious ignorance of the people in the forest. Didn't the fools know an unfamiliar voice when they heard it?
"THAT WASN'T PAULDEN!" Ben called out in a half panic.
"You stay right there, Ben, and look after Paulden." The man replied, obviously more experienced than the other two. "It might be a bandit trick! You hear me, you bastards? If you're trying to rob us, I'll cut you in two!"
Soon, footsteps approached out of the tree line, and quickly sped up as the older man got close enough to see the white figure on the ground. He quickly broke into a run and soon, blocking out the sunlight, was an overweight man who looked to be in his forties. He was wearing a large brown leather coat as well as brown pants and boots. Various pouches lined the insides and outsides of his coat and the handle of a small blade was visible at his side.
"Alright, alright...let's get the introductions out of the way. I'm Zan," he said, kneeling down beside Typheus. "What hurts, son? Anything broken? Ugh...other than your nose?"
"Not that I'm aware of, and I’m Typheus." the injured Typheus replied, unaware that his nose was broken from the fall. "My back hurts like hell, and I'm having trouble standing up. What's the Terra Number of this planet?"
"Oh, boy, he's out of it," the man said, grabbing Typheus's shoulders and rolling him over, making sure to keep his face turned sideways. As Zan was examining his back, his eyes grew wide and he pulled out a cloth and patted the sweat from his head. "Boy, I'm not sure what attacked you, but it was big, and you're definitely lucky."
"What is it?" Typheus asked, prepared for anything except the truth.
"Large claw marks. Until we clean you up, it'll be hard to tell what caused them, but whatever it was, it must have gotten distracted by a larger animal…because you’re still breathing.”
Zan dug in a small pouch at his side and got out what seemed to be a small stick. After carving a small message in the bark with a small pen-like knife, he thrust it into the ground. It took root very quickly, growing into a small stump at an incredible rate. A few minutes later, three men appeared out of thin air and directed their attention first to Zan and then to Typheus. All three of them were carrying medical equipment and wearing large coats, blue compared to Zan's brown coat.
“Got your message, Zan. Is the beast still around?” one of them asked.
“Nope, no sign of it save for the poor boy right here. Nose is broken, back is cut open, and he claims he can’t support his own weight.”
“Right, we’ll take him back. Nothing we can’t handle.” The first doctor spoke, before grabbing two bound poles off of his back, which he stretched and then unwound like a scroll, forming a stretcher.
Being loaded onto a stretcher infuriated and embarrassed Typheus to no end. He was just too strong to have to put up with something created for lesser soldiers. Being lifted onto the stretcher was the last straw and he tried to pull out of their grip so he could walk on his own. They only tightened their grip on him and loaded him onto the stretcher.
“I can walk! Just let me off of this thing!” he said, struggling every which way, only to be held down by the doctors.
“We’ll be the judges of that,” they said, picking him up and carrying him off towards where they had appeared.
One of them threw another small stick at Zan, who caught it, nodded, and stuck it in his pouch before returning to the forest with the rest of his small squad.
Before disappearing, Typheus saw another person run out of the forest screaming about Paulden. This kid was around 15, and was crying his eyes out.
“WHAT NOW!?” Zan bellowed making Ben wonder which area was safer. He finally ran to his father and buried his face in his side.
After a few muffled words, Zan brought his son over to the doctors.
“Take him with you, and send back a few more doctors, and some more guards.”
“Guards, sir?”
“My son just told me the ones that came with us are all dead.”
And in closing, for the second honourable mention of ‘Beauty in Simplicity’: Archaon in The Caern Mountain Ogre (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17589)!
There was a light snow falling as the merchant’s sloop butted up against the pier. The docks were little more than a few semi-permanent buildings, a jetty and a road leading inland. Rûn stood at the railing, looking past the shore to the lone mountain that dominated an empty landscape. There were certainly bigger mountains, but it was imposing in its solitude, its split peak seeming to grasp at the slate grey sky. He was dressed for the winter, with a fur lined cloak and thick leather gloves and boots. With sword and shield strapped to the pack on his shoulders, he looked like some wild barbarian prince, and his long blonde hair and blue eyes only enhanced the image.
It was cold, and the crew went about their work quietly. The only sounds were the creaking of the ship, the ever present surging of the sea beneath them, and the high cry of a gull. The ship’s mate was standing nearby, and Rûn asked, “Why not build the village by the water? They wouldn’t have to cart all their goods back and forth.”
The ship’s mate glanced at him, then looked out the thin line of smoke rising from the base of the mountain. “That’d be the smart thing to do. But the villagers here think that mountain is sacred. They’ve got a shrine or a temple or some such way up near the peak.”
Rûn smiled thoughtfully. “Sacred, eh?”
“Found yourself a destination, then?”
He laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Never a destination.” He grinned. “I go where the wind blows.” The sailor scoffed, and Rûn ignored him. Still, he thought. There’s something about this place. A sense of anticipation, maybe. He had been on the ship for over a month, and found that sea travel suited him. The endless water teeming with life, the freedom of it all, the mystery of never knowing what was ahead of you. Well, he conceded some people knew. But he had never bothered looking at the maps himself.
Though comfortable, the voyage had been sadly uneventful. The wildness of the mountain, the barren coast, and the dark woods in the distance seemed to sing to him. He decided to call it destiny.
Turning, he held out his hand. “I think I will be getting off here. It’s been a pleasure traveling with your crew.”
The old sailor grunted and took his hand. All he said was “weren’t no worse passenger than most, an’ better than some.” Rûn just smiled, springing down the gangplank and onto the pier. As soon as he reached solid ground the earth seemed to swayed beneath him, and he laughed. It felt good to be on land again. Rûn turned a moment, watching the ship and the waters that bore it, and took in a deep breath of sea air.
The snowfall began to grow heavier as he set off toward the mountain, and the village nestled at its base.
Congratulations to the three of you! Why you’ve received these awards is obvious to any who reads these posts, so don’t fight the pride, embrace it! Rub other people’s faces in it… if that’s what you’re… into. If your desire is to waltz down the catwalk in the most bombastic way you can manage, or conversely to humbly thank friends and inspirations, step forth, or otherwise be stricken with silence forevermore… or at least until the time you manage to get another of these moments in the Weekly Spotlight!
Dear and fellow Althanians (and guests!),
This is the day that we return to you with the Weekly Spotlight! Aeons ago, when the height of all hygiene could be summed up to a leaf on a stick, we let all great threads in the making get a little spot in the sunshine, a little time to bask in the sweet, sweet limelight – and we’re going to do this a fair bit more often (perhaps even until the day this little feature stops being a blatant misnomer)!
Today, the writers that will receive recognition for their written work are many, but I believe they all deserve a good round of applause/inappropriate whistling! One is a newcomer playing a knight not in, but made of shining armour; another is an old member who returned after years spent on sacred, forest mountains in intense ascetic training; the last is a promising new member who writes with the vision of the most evocative haiku poets!
Lo and Behold, the names!
First in line, for the Award of ‘Best Introduction to a Whole New World’: KnightVanguard in To Call Down the Stars (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17838)!
It had been ten years since the borderlanders first started pouring into Republic territory from their fringe worlds. On tiny civilian craft never meant for interstellar travel. On regal cargo freighters that had spent the last years holding court in heaps of scrap. They were divided by race and language and creed, but one thing held them together then. Fear. That was the first warning, like birds fleeing before a gathering storm. And it was the last. Soon after, an alien armada descended upon the outer planets like a horde of locusts. Massive warships blackened the sky through sheer numbers when they came to bleed a world dry.
The Cyrian people had never seen an enemy so powerful… or so barbaric. Stealing every resource the horde left only smoldering ruin in its wake. Entire colonies reduced to nothing but charred bone and ash. The Cyrians tried their best to fight, but the enemy pressed in from every direction. World by world the Republic was being devoured by the beast that called itself the Therin Federation. Ten years and only the last ragged lines of defense remained. Wrapped in this tattered armor the home world Cyrus was far removed from the bloody turmoil. For now…
Cyrus
On a cloudless night the Grand Library was a smooth crescent that reflected the moon above. The dark horizon melted into the blue black ocean and it was hard to tell where either ended or if they both stretched on forever. Waves beat a soothing lullaby against the white sanded shore. That secluded beach held the last hope for the Cyrian people, and a more magnificent prison Jonah could not have imagined.
Out on the terrace the crisp ocean breeze stirred his dark hair, lazily carrying the sounds of laughter and music and the salted scents of the sea. The tree line flirted with the edge of the sand, whispering sweet nothings with its rustling leaves. The island breathed a sigh of relief after the day’s oppressive heat. It wasn’t cold, but Jonah welcomed Amanda’s warmth by his side. Her arms rested on the stone rail as she watched the festivities below, wisps of golden hair flowing behind her as the wind tugged playfully at her thin clothes. She was a green eyed vision, beautiful as any caged bird. Jonah smiled wistfully and took a sip of honeyed wine. He held his glass gently, rolling the drink in slow circles; for it felt as fragile as the mood. It was like a dream he feared to wake from.
This was the first time they found themselves relieved of duty in months. On the beach two stories beneath them the party was ringed by glowing torches and the other researchers swayed like the flames that lit the night. Servants in white made their way through the throng, granting food or drinks to any who wished it. Derek, a young man from Jonah’s own weapon’s division, twirled about a redhead whose name he couldn’t recall. The girl giggled and kicked up sand as she swirled. Others were paired as well, or chatting cordially with the friends they had made. They all glistened faintly in the firelight that embraced them and held back the darkness. “That looks like fun, doesn’t it?” Amanda asked without looking his way.
“Of course.” the lie tasted bitter, stealing the small pleasure of his drink. “But I’m not much of a dancer.” he finished absently. Reality was a shadow, ever present and hard to escape for long. For all the allure of the place, for all the supposed nobility of the cause that brought them there, he never found joy in it. Sometimes he was amazed by how well the others took their captivity. Just beyond the torchlight, not ten yards from where Derek pranced about, stood a man all in black. The soldier shifted his weight in the sand, moving a rifle from one hand to the other. Jonah could make out no others but he knew they were there. They were always there. The Republic had gathered its best and brightest to this place and had no intention of letting them go.
The Therin Armada made the nation fearful. It had made them desperate. The military found itself without restrictions and without morals. Many young scientists were “recruited” to work in places like the Library. The resulting advances in technology even seemed to stem the tide at first, but they were pillars of sand trying to push back the ocean. In the end what had once been the Republic’s most modest endeavor became its last hope for salvation.
Project Knight had grown into a chimera, absorbing the most fearsome pieces of the military’s failed initiatives. Energy weaponry, shielding, stealth technology, fusion power, artificial intelligence; everything was merged. Gravitational manipulation was the final piece of the puzzle. Recent development of the Gravitic Drive had made Cyrian ships the fastest in the known galaxy. Collapse two points in the fabric space into one and a bridge was formed, a wormhole. Ships could advance or retreat from battle in a fraction of the time, but even that was far from enough. Now a miniaturized version was supposed to give Knight the finishing touch. It would have been impressive if it weren’t sad.
“Why do you think he does that?” Amanda’s voice snapped him to the present. Her lips were pursed pensively, hesitant before the glass in her hand, “He stares at the stars endlessly if you let him. Like he’s never seen them before.” Her words were a bare whisper. The “he” she meant was standing on the beach below. It was the reason for the night’s celebration of wine and dancing, the first complete Knight Prototype: Vanguard. A humanoid figure garbed head to toe in ornate silvery armor, alone amidst the merriment and staring up at the sky. Two meters tall and lean as a man in his prime it was a symbol of Cyrian pride and an homage to the ancestral warriors for which it was named. Years of hard work and painstaking research, all for that jumped up robot. Tomorrow they would test its Gravitic Drive.
“Vanguard?” his cup clinked faintly on the railing as he lowered it with a grimace, “Maybe it’s distracted by shiny objects. I’ll ask the team working on its visual sensory system to do something about it before the final test. I’m sure that sort of thing would cause problems in the field.”
Amanda merely gave him a cool sidelong glance but, for the way he cringed inside, she may well have slapped him, “He is so much more than some weapon Jonah. Independent thought, free will—“
“…a ghost in the machine?” He finished for her with a raised eyebrow. “You think Vanguard is a genuine personality. A synthetic creature giving rise to a soul... That’s science fiction nonsense and wishful thinking. I thought better of you Amanda.”
She rounded on him then, eyes aflame with anger and passion, “Don’t you understand? He’s wasted on the war.” She relented when didn’t back down, letting out a heavy sigh that took her fight left with, “I’m recommending we keep him here after the rest are built. He deserves better.” Her voice was meek but her concern sounded almost maternal. It would have been moving in any other context. Now it only soured his temper further.
“We deserve better Amanda. I don’t remember volunteering for this seven years ago. I remember soldiers dragging me out of my University on Orion and shipping me here.” Everything had been so perfect until the Prototype found its way into the conversation. Into his life. The damned thing managed to ruin everything. He had wanted to wait for the right time to ask her, but the atmosphere was gone. This would be his last chance and it couldn’t go to waste. He clasped her bare shoulders, words flowing in a rush, “Let’s leave tomorrow. I can make arrangements. I can take you with me and we’ll be free of all this.”
“You can’t talk like that Jonah, it’s treason.” she shook her head, soft hands pushing against his chest as she avoided his eyes, “Besides our work is too important. Think of the people. If this fails… The Therins are merciless. They’ll raze every planet in the Republic if we don’t stop them.”
“To hell with the Republic and its people. We’re no better than slaves here.” Was she really so blind? “Mass production of the Knights is never going to win the war, nothing will. It’s past time we cut our loses.”
“I know you don’t mean that Jonah.” She started delicately, “And I know this has been hard on you. It’s hard on us all. But where would we even go if we left? Vanguard is the only chance any of us have. No matter what happens we can’t abandon him now.”
Vanguard? Vanguard? Would she really rather die with that thing than survive with him… “No.” He growled, “I’m done. Working on that damned droid has taken everything from me; my past, my home, my freedom. I will NOT let it take my life too.” He leveled an accusatory finger at the machine and clumsily swiped his glass over the railing. Too late he lunged to catch it, the red wine tumbling out of his reach to the sand in slow motion. The shrill cry of breaking glass was much louder than it should have been… the music had stopped. His colleagues were looking up in stunned silence; even the guard had taken note of the disturbance. A different gaze drew Jonah’s though. A shimmering blue visor set in a silver-white helm. Vanguard fixed him with an icy glare. But it was just a droid and such emotion was impossible. Jonah backed away from the rail cautiously in spite of himself, “You’ll wish you chose me.” He spat under his breath, turning from. His words hung stale in the air as he withdrew to his room.
And now, for the first honourable mention of ‘Most Jaw-Dropping Improvement’: Typheus in Lightbringer, Part I: Fallen from Grace (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17917)!
Typheus felt the wind rushing past him as he fell through an endless void of white light, when only seconds earlier, he was exploding a black hole to wipe out a portion of the galaxy. His mind raced for the explanation to his dilemma, but as he continued to think, he found himself unable to pull his thoughts together. Something was jamming his brain, like faint static in a radio distorting a favorite song.
“Typheus,” he heard a soft voice call, “are you there?” The confused soldier tried to answer, but found himself unable to speak. His mouth worked, but his voice was either being sucked away into a vacuum or else something was blocking it. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say a word.” The voice was much closer now, but still just as soft. The confused Typheus started panicking and was looking around madly to try and find out what was coming for him. In the instant that he could see an approaching form, he blacked out.
As the soldier awoke, he first noticed that the deafening silence of space was nowhere to be found, and neither was the rushing wind. The first thing he could hear was the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, and what sounded like the calls of wild animals.
As he started to sit up, making his arms sore in the process, his back started to burn badly and he let out a short yelp before falling back to the ground, which just made his back hurt worse and forced him to sit up again. He figured he passed out from overusing his new power and then fell through a planet's atmosphere. This worried him, though, as he was too strong from something as little as a fifty mile plummet to injure.
Trying to stand, Typheus immediately knew something was wrong. His legs buckled, his weight shifted forward, and he fell flat on his face in a mud puddle, cutting off his oxygen. Panic ensued as he flopped his arms around, trying to get a good grip on whatever he could to push himself up. When this failed, he finally rolled over onto his back and decided to rest for a bit.
He couldn't stand, he could barely sit, his nose was still covered in mud, forcing him to breathe through his mouth, and the only sound around was wild animals, which would spell death for him if any carnivores came along.
"Here, here," a booming gruff voice called out, "and I want another over there on that big one, and I swear my hand, Paulden, if you mess up and mark another granite stub, I'll bust your ass myself.”
There was only one chance, but, the fully formed words just didn’t want to leave his lips. Calling out for help was just too embarrassing for him after all that he had been through.
"H-he...OVER HERE!" he yelled, his mouth still gritty with mud.
"Dad, did you hear something!?" an unfamiliar voice called out. This one sounded like an early teen.
"I heard something, Ben." the gruff voice called back. "Probably Paulden talking to the damned squirrels again."
"Oh, for the love of-HELP!" Typheus yelled, becoming impatient with the obvious ignorance of the people in the forest. Didn't the fools know an unfamiliar voice when they heard it?
"THAT WASN'T PAULDEN!" Ben called out in a half panic.
"You stay right there, Ben, and look after Paulden." The man replied, obviously more experienced than the other two. "It might be a bandit trick! You hear me, you bastards? If you're trying to rob us, I'll cut you in two!"
Soon, footsteps approached out of the tree line, and quickly sped up as the older man got close enough to see the white figure on the ground. He quickly broke into a run and soon, blocking out the sunlight, was an overweight man who looked to be in his forties. He was wearing a large brown leather coat as well as brown pants and boots. Various pouches lined the insides and outsides of his coat and the handle of a small blade was visible at his side.
"Alright, alright...let's get the introductions out of the way. I'm Zan," he said, kneeling down beside Typheus. "What hurts, son? Anything broken? Ugh...other than your nose?"
"Not that I'm aware of, and I’m Typheus." the injured Typheus replied, unaware that his nose was broken from the fall. "My back hurts like hell, and I'm having trouble standing up. What's the Terra Number of this planet?"
"Oh, boy, he's out of it," the man said, grabbing Typheus's shoulders and rolling him over, making sure to keep his face turned sideways. As Zan was examining his back, his eyes grew wide and he pulled out a cloth and patted the sweat from his head. "Boy, I'm not sure what attacked you, but it was big, and you're definitely lucky."
"What is it?" Typheus asked, prepared for anything except the truth.
"Large claw marks. Until we clean you up, it'll be hard to tell what caused them, but whatever it was, it must have gotten distracted by a larger animal…because you’re still breathing.”
Zan dug in a small pouch at his side and got out what seemed to be a small stick. After carving a small message in the bark with a small pen-like knife, he thrust it into the ground. It took root very quickly, growing into a small stump at an incredible rate. A few minutes later, three men appeared out of thin air and directed their attention first to Zan and then to Typheus. All three of them were carrying medical equipment and wearing large coats, blue compared to Zan's brown coat.
“Got your message, Zan. Is the beast still around?” one of them asked.
“Nope, no sign of it save for the poor boy right here. Nose is broken, back is cut open, and he claims he can’t support his own weight.”
“Right, we’ll take him back. Nothing we can’t handle.” The first doctor spoke, before grabbing two bound poles off of his back, which he stretched and then unwound like a scroll, forming a stretcher.
Being loaded onto a stretcher infuriated and embarrassed Typheus to no end. He was just too strong to have to put up with something created for lesser soldiers. Being lifted onto the stretcher was the last straw and he tried to pull out of their grip so he could walk on his own. They only tightened their grip on him and loaded him onto the stretcher.
“I can walk! Just let me off of this thing!” he said, struggling every which way, only to be held down by the doctors.
“We’ll be the judges of that,” they said, picking him up and carrying him off towards where they had appeared.
One of them threw another small stick at Zan, who caught it, nodded, and stuck it in his pouch before returning to the forest with the rest of his small squad.
Before disappearing, Typheus saw another person run out of the forest screaming about Paulden. This kid was around 15, and was crying his eyes out.
“WHAT NOW!?” Zan bellowed making Ben wonder which area was safer. He finally ran to his father and buried his face in his side.
After a few muffled words, Zan brought his son over to the doctors.
“Take him with you, and send back a few more doctors, and some more guards.”
“Guards, sir?”
“My son just told me the ones that came with us are all dead.”
And in closing, for the second honourable mention of ‘Beauty in Simplicity’: Archaon in The Caern Mountain Ogre (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17589)!
There was a light snow falling as the merchant’s sloop butted up against the pier. The docks were little more than a few semi-permanent buildings, a jetty and a road leading inland. Rûn stood at the railing, looking past the shore to the lone mountain that dominated an empty landscape. There were certainly bigger mountains, but it was imposing in its solitude, its split peak seeming to grasp at the slate grey sky. He was dressed for the winter, with a fur lined cloak and thick leather gloves and boots. With sword and shield strapped to the pack on his shoulders, he looked like some wild barbarian prince, and his long blonde hair and blue eyes only enhanced the image.
It was cold, and the crew went about their work quietly. The only sounds were the creaking of the ship, the ever present surging of the sea beneath them, and the high cry of a gull. The ship’s mate was standing nearby, and Rûn asked, “Why not build the village by the water? They wouldn’t have to cart all their goods back and forth.”
The ship’s mate glanced at him, then looked out the thin line of smoke rising from the base of the mountain. “That’d be the smart thing to do. But the villagers here think that mountain is sacred. They’ve got a shrine or a temple or some such way up near the peak.”
Rûn smiled thoughtfully. “Sacred, eh?”
“Found yourself a destination, then?”
He laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Never a destination.” He grinned. “I go where the wind blows.” The sailor scoffed, and Rûn ignored him. Still, he thought. There’s something about this place. A sense of anticipation, maybe. He had been on the ship for over a month, and found that sea travel suited him. The endless water teeming with life, the freedom of it all, the mystery of never knowing what was ahead of you. Well, he conceded some people knew. But he had never bothered looking at the maps himself.
Though comfortable, the voyage had been sadly uneventful. The wildness of the mountain, the barren coast, and the dark woods in the distance seemed to sing to him. He decided to call it destiny.
Turning, he held out his hand. “I think I will be getting off here. It’s been a pleasure traveling with your crew.”
The old sailor grunted and took his hand. All he said was “weren’t no worse passenger than most, an’ better than some.” Rûn just smiled, springing down the gangplank and onto the pier. As soon as he reached solid ground the earth seemed to swayed beneath him, and he laughed. It felt good to be on land again. Rûn turned a moment, watching the ship and the waters that bore it, and took in a deep breath of sea air.
The snowfall began to grow heavier as he set off toward the mountain, and the village nestled at its base.
Congratulations to the three of you! Why you’ve received these awards is obvious to any who reads these posts, so don’t fight the pride, embrace it! Rub other people’s faces in it… if that’s what you’re… into. If your desire is to waltz down the catwalk in the most bombastic way you can manage, or conversely to humbly thank friends and inspirations, step forth, or otherwise be stricken with silence forevermore… or at least until the time you manage to get another of these moments in the Weekly Spotlight!