Science Fiction/Fantasy Writers Group Blog

disorganization at its finest

2006-11-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

Um, I guess we're meeting tomorrow. I don't even know anymore. All I do know is that I really want to get drunk, but there's this bastard whore thesis that ain't gonna write itself.

Tuesday, 7 November 2006. At like 3:30 or so. Big table in the upper, lower union...westside, thing. Be there. Try to bring something so that I may laugh at its foolishness, yet offer up nothing on my part.

Just so everyone knows

2006-11-03T19:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not a retard, and I even DID have a blogger account, who would have thunk it? Anyway, this is Kati, I'm here, and linked to you all now and what not so, uh, 'sup homies?

Kneel Before Zod (and stephen, too)

2006-10-30T13:11:00.000-08:00

Killer idea Froyd.

In addition to this writing prompt, there will be an actual meeting of the club on Tuesday, 10/31 (Halloween to those in the know). It is at 3:30 at the round table of the upper, lower union. Or, the same place that we always meet.

Grubbs, I don't remember your email off the top of my head, so I hope that you see this before then...because you're never in school!

If you have written anything based upon Froyd's idea, bring it. Or just bring it! as in Bring It On! A stellar film starring the likes of Kirsten Dunst as a rich cheerleader campaigning for heart-wrenching causes like new uniforms and civil rights.

Writing Prompt 10-30-06

2006-10-29T22:25:00.000-08:00

There is a city under seige, your choice of time, and type of seige. Is the seige war time? Is it under seige by aliens? By little chillens in halloween costumes? by a supernatural enemy? There must be a way to end the seige, your choice.

The story has to involve the ending of the seige for your character/group of characters. Doesn't matter if it ends the seige completely, or just for them.

1000-1500 words. Post it up here when you're finished.

Writing prompts?

2006-10-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

I think we should do a bi-weekly writing prompt here, try and get us writing. I'll have the first one up by Monday, and then we've got two weeks to come up with something. I think limiting any peice of writing to 1000 words is not too much to ask, and then when finished post it up here for comments?

Just tossing some ideas out there. I need to get writing again, it's been too long.

More Material

2006-10-24T06:14:00.000-07:00

Well, I am kind of getting the hang of this weekly posting thing. I can only assume that being half of the semester is already drawn to a close that getting these "meetings" would be difficult. So I would further deduce that trying to set something up for next semester would be key. Even to get some fresh blood, I mean faces. Perhaps some exercises as well, whee! Just a thought, I don't know if I know how to put that into motion or not. Not that many of us are predisposition to motion. I can only think of assignments, maybe talking to some writing classes. I mean the least we can do is check flow. And maybe one of their class assignments can be supplemented by one of our exercises. I'm not saying that I want to bring in first-years, however, it would be nice not to "limit" it to our department. And I'm not saying that math people are really that creative, but does inspiration touches us all. It would really be great to help some young, struggling writers find their groove. And maybe build something worth putting on a resume.
-may the muse be with you.

2006-09-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

There is a meeting next Thursday. Stephen, what time is the meeting? I can't remember. Oh no!

So...

2006-09-25T14:25:00.000-07:00

Stephen how are you running things?

I need to know, so I can post responses here, or email such stuff.

btw, Tiffany is now an admin.

Weep, ye masses!

Here I am

2006-09-22T14:50:00.000-07:00

Woohoo. Now I'm a member. Now make me an admin. Please?

New Life, Beotches!!

2006-09-19T10:39:00.000-07:00

Ok, this is the first post of a new era. The Sci-Fi/Fantasy Club is starting back up fools and this time it's for real. I have been wrangled into the fold of presidency (albeit over a shoddy confederacy) of a rag-tag group of up-and-coming writers and together...ah fuck it. We just needed an excuse to meet at the bar and not feel like alcoholics.

More posts to come...like the time for the one meeting we will have this year.

Peace out, slaves.

meeting this wednesday?

2006-03-28T13:37:00.000-08:00

Grubbs, this is to you - do you want to meet this Wednesday 3.29.06? Froyd's out of town...let me know before then.

meeting tonight?

2006-03-01T14:27:00.000-08:00

I won't be in town tonight, but you guys may want to meet anyway.

From the desk of Grand Wizard Sean Froyd

2006-02-22T14:02:00.000-08:00

WE will not be meeting tonight as he is going to be watching Steve Martin make a billion dollars in a sub-par re-make.

new time

2006-02-10T17:05:00.000-08:00

wednesdays at 8:30, upper lower union.

bring some stuff.

preferably enough copies for everyone, we can read them aloud, but the writing level stuff, other than the idea stuff, is helpful to work on as well.

pay no attention to grubbsy's

2006-02-06T13:09:00.000-08:00

poor use of time.

the meeting is at 8:30 tonight in the upper lower union(by the flags there).

not later.

Woops!

2006-02-03T20:10:00.000-08:00

So I missed my blog sucks day, suprising isn't it, and have fallen into a very bad speeling patern with my blogs and/or wikis. This is concerning, but not as concering as the new direction the club is going. I would like to get some fresh blood as much as the next guy, and don't get me wrong, I love the new time change:) Monday, uper lower union at 9:00. Nice, perfect. Now is there something you would like us to bring. Perhaps an exercise? I was planing to work my Ben story in preperations for fic class. Anyway, have a good party and I am sorry I can not be there.

meetings.

2006-01-27T06:29:00.000-08:00

Ok, since we can't figure out democratically(due to crazy jihadists) when the meetings will be held, I'm making an executive decision and saying that the meeting will be at 4 on Mondays.

that's right. this next Monday at 4, held in the upper lower union around the round table.

at 4. monday. 4. january 30th.

at 4

meetings?

2006-01-26T19:40:00.000-08:00

We are having meetings now, since when did this start? I mean does Hans know?

Due to my lack of meeting attendingness...

2006-01-26T11:34:00.000-08:00

Froyd, you now have control of the blog. Do with it as you wish.

meeting on thursday october 20

2005-10-19T18:30:00.000-07:00

will be in office 325, at 3:15~3:30.

I'm guessing the few of us still going to the club will easily fit.

*sigh* we MAY have to do a membership drive.

Howdy all

2005-10-13T21:33:00.000-07:00

With all this post-apocolyptic fervor, I came up with an idea for a world for us to write about in the next couple of weeks.

It is a post-apocolyptic world, with mankind just emerging after a disasterous ice-age.

The chronology of the world in my head followed - generally - the path of human history: the Stone Ages, Antiquity, the Dark (or Middle) Ages, Modern Times...However, you can vary from this pattern

The few people that are around after the natural disaster (or was it a nat. disaster in the first place?) have discovered the subtle left-overs of our race, and they live them as we do with the remnants of past cultures.

Please, feel free to make addendums as you see fit, to completely change this idea, or to propose another.

first meeting

2005-09-28T13:17:00.000-07:00

Ok, first meeting will be next thursday at 3 at the round table in the upper-lower union.

good? good.

meetings? MEETINGS? maybe...MEATINGS!

2005-09-12T11:15:00.000-07:00

hey all...just wondering when a good time would be for meeting this year...leave a comment and we'll figure it out.

anybody out there?

2005-08-08T02:25:00.000-07:00

anybody still writing this summer?

Gentleman(and woman) BEHOLD!!!!

2005-01-09T00:51:00.000-08:00

a new semester!!!

what are our schedules this semester? We should figure out a time that will be beneficial to our allies and hurtful to our enemies!

Death to the realists!

Like dust off the Bible...

2004-12-08T07:12:00.000-08:00

So, too, have I brought this antiquated metaphor for human existence out of the shadows, to ask a bold, yet pertinent question: Are we meeting this evening, Wednesday, December 8? I ask because as you all know, the end of the semester is upon us, and I could use the extra time in writing papers and the like.

Hopefully you all still check on a somewhat regular basis.

That could be all.

2004-10-27T18:23:00.000-07:00

there'd better be a goddamned good reason why me and stephen were the only ones here tonight.

Fantasy world, as agreed upon on 10/13

2004-10-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

- As stated, this is a fantasy world.
- Low tech (iron age-ish) - swords, shields, bow & arrows, javelins, pikes...

RACES
- Three races: ogres, gnomes, and humans
- Ogres are scientifically advanced and sophisticated
- The ogres live in a sort-of feudal society (head monarch, warrior nobility, peasant classes)
- Their country is very mountainous, and the ogres have hollowed out the mountains and built their vast empires underground
- Herd enormous cave-chickens (approx. the size of an ostrich)
- Ogres also farm inside of the mountains through a series of mirrors that catch the sunlight from outside and magnify it greatly. This is also where the ogres get their light for seeing and their heat for cooking as well staying warm
- Ogres harness the vast underground lakes and rivers with ships. Some fishing takes place, and even large naval battles between different ogre societies

- Humans play a 3rd world minority type; unintelligent, small in numbers compared to ogres
- Partly a nomadic hunter-gathering culture, following the migration patters of mountain goat herds
- Humans also have a matrilineal culture (power, wealth, and land passes through the female)
- Occasionally will steal from ogres
- Due to their relationship with the gods (mentioned below) humans are the only culture to have fire and keep it

- The gnomes are somewhere between these two; they are dumber than humans, but liked more by the ogres
- Also, more populous than human beings
- Gnomes live completely outside of the mountains, adapting to the harsh (Antarctic) weather patterns
- The gnomes hate humans, and will eat them if they are able
- Also, they are equipped with nasty, big, pointy teeth

RELIGION/MAGIC
- Only humans use magic because magic is derived from prayers and incantations to the four elemental gods: earth, wind, fire, water (sorry, no heart) and the gods only like humans
- These deities are very smiteful and wicked, and all the natural disasters are caused by their malificent attitudes
- The gods always side with humans, giving them the only magic

Now, hear me out, dammit

2004-10-06T23:19:00.000-07:00

I got an idea that might help us raise money for the book (probably not the full $500 clams, but a dent, anyhow). How about an all-night sci-fi/fantasy movie marathon? Maybe a small price for admission, charging for concessions and bathroom privileges? Also, if we know any people with too much money on their hands, we could have sponsors donate money for some inane competition. Just a thought...

GREAT NEWS

2004-10-01T16:50:00.000-07:00

Just received an offer from Authorhouse(our potential book publisher).

THey've offered, if we sign up by the end of the October, to publish the book for $300 off. That means, instead of paying $775 for the book to get put together and ready to be sold, it is only going to be $475.

Be thinking of things we can do to raise this kind of money!

It shouldn't be that hard, now that the price is lowered.

9/29 World Creation

2004-09-30T12:28:00.000-07:00

Hey there kids, today I'm briefly taking Grubbsy's place as typist. So here's the rules for the new world. Warning to those who weren't at the meeting: it's centered on space pirates. (Also, since I'm basically working from notes and my memory's not all that good, if I miss some important bit, let me know).

Pirates have press-ganged everyone into piracy.

There is no one left for them to pirate on their homeworld, so now they're space pirates.

Space sharks-- energy-based creatures

Space barnacles-- attach to ship's energy leaks

Boarding other ships in space is possible

Empire (which runs a planet now) just discovered a solid-gold asteroid

Renegade planet, with profiteers (uh... I think that's what he wrote...) fighting for control over the asteroid

Empire plans to take the asteroid back to their home planet and use it to create a gold moon for the home planet

Teleportation devices with particle scattering and re-assembly

The pirates are the good guys (sort of)

Energy source (affectionately known as "planet juice") powers Empire ships, cannons, etc.

Ships have energy shielding

The pirates' ships are weak compared to the Empire's ships, so the pirates are forced to out-think their opponants

Ships are "run" with AI

Pirates dress like pirates: no shoes, fluffy white shirts, etc.

Slaves hand-crank "space oars" to power ship.

Ye gods... what were we thinking...

Unfortunately...

2004-09-29T15:00:00.000-07:00

I will not be in attendance this evening. I have to do some other crap...trust me, though, I'd much rather be at the meeting tonight. Here is what I have of my story thus far, feel free to make comments here, or at the meeting tonight. Sorry.

Dr. Leibowitz and I have never seen eye-to-eye on the subject of murder in the tens of thousands. Dr. Marco Weir sat in the quarters of Captain Frank Blackney. His comment had been addressed to Blackney himself, but the aged Christopher Leibowitz, who had been in adjoining room, perked up at the mention of his name.
Murder, as you call it, Dr. Weir, in the name of life. If we were to allow the kind of population overgrowth as is possible in the kind of environment, we would have no food to eat. However, that would be of little consequence, considering that we would be dead due to lack of breathable air. Leibowitz sat next to Marco Weir on a choking flower print red sofa.
Captain Blackney joined the two men with a pitcher of water and three glasses, each with spoonful of brown, granulated powder at the bottom. After distributing the glasses, the captain poured each of the vessels full with the crystalline water, which turned immediately brown on contact with the powder.
Gentlemen, Blackney raised his glass, heres to fifty years of striving, and to success in the next fifty years. The three men the ships elders drank down the solution and placed their glasses on the small, plastic table in front of the sofa. The term elders was actually a misnomer, as two of the men Captain Francisco Blackney and Dr. Marco Weir were only in their thirties, and thus were born on the Pequod II. Only Dr. Leibowitz had been alive before the Earth was tapped of its resources, and he was the only one in the room who knew that the brown powder left in the captains chambers tasted nothing at all like bourbon.
What do your robot terrorists have in mind for the innocent people of our ship this time, Chris? The question posed by Dr. Weir was meant in jest, but this subject resonated deeply with Marco and the members of his medical staff, as well as any dispensable human on the ship.
Leave it to a medical man to rescind on a perfectly proposed, necessary function of existence. The people on this ship have disturbing abundances of free time, and choose to spend that time with members of the opposite sex. Leibowitzs iron mouth cracked a metallic smile, and then retained its customary look of somber sophistication.
Wait one minute, friend, I never agreed to this idea. Hell, I wast even born yet! This idea was shoved down everyones throat by you and your robotics people. You knew the Earth had damned itself to hell, and its people had no time to argue. You simply took advantage of that situation. You had no respect for any sciences other than robotics.
But, Dr. Weir, robotics is the only science.

2004-09-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

World decided on on 9-22

Project/name of ship : Pequod Two aka B.O.B.

World for 9-22

2004-09-21T14:05:00.000-07:00

instead of a 'world', per se, this instead will be sci-fi set on a generation ship.

A brief explanation of a generation ship:
Usually it is a gigantic ship, made to be a world in and of itself to sustain the beings put on it until their destination is reached. It does not travel light speed, or anything near that fast, it travels at the fastest speed it can, which usually is very slow compared to LS. It is called a generation ship, because when the ship reaches the supposed saving planet, it is the next generation than the original one, their children, grandchildren or others, straight down the line. No magic this time. Remember: THESE SHIPS ARE HUGE.

Here're what I'd like each of you to think of this time:

Hans: Please think of the religion of the place, do they believe in Christianity, Islam, some combination of the two, or do they come to worship the ship? Or is it a form of religion not necessarily started on earth?

Angel: Have the humans, or their animals mutated at all, since coming on the ship? Perhaps a radiation storm they passed through changed them to some extent...

Stephen: What does the ship look like on the inside and the outside? On the inside is it actually tried to set up like earth's fields and rivers are, or is it pure technology, ie. starwars/startrek?

Jason: Is the ship sentient? If not, what kind of goverment has grown up among the peoples of the ship? Do they put the captain and crew in control, or is it some other form, ie. democracy, monarchy, whatnot?

Grubbs: Why'd they leave the original planet? Was it because of famine, death, doom in the first place? Remember, this doesn't have to be earth, but it COULD be.

I'll cover the technology of the place, what they use to harvest, farm, fight, live in, whatever.

This world will by NECESSITY have to have cooperation, as in an enclosed ship like this, none of these will come to be separately from the others, but at least have some idea that you can think of before you show up.

See you guys tomorrow night!

notes on world 9.15

2004-09-20T02:53:00.000-07:00

Project: “talking to stick”
Planet is in a bipartisan orbiting system, were there are two neighboring planets that act like moons.
Overall weather is decent; There is a lot of big sky area. Every region has specific effect but there are two storms that ravage the land; that never dissipate. They die down from time to time, but stick unexpectedly, (or expectedly depending on the culture) The land on the planet is divided into three (3) rings. The south and north are less effected by these storms; but it hits hard. In the middle the storms are more like a sand storm that just tears the living snot out of things. Yet these storms are more common and the peoples of that land are more prone to adapting. The common “work horse” animal is the “Munach“, which is a large sloth like quadruped that is extremely adaptable. Sometimes slow moving, but can carry very heavy loads. These creatures originally came from the forests of the south. How they came to populate the entire planet many are uncertain. As they are uncertain that there are others populating the planet.
The weapons of the entire planet are pretty simple. Melee weapons such as swords, mails. Mostly Javelins and slings for ranged style weapons. There are a few advanced “long” slings. About four feet long.
Northern Ring:
The land is very mountainous and rocky. There is little plant life but the humans of the north have learned to trellis their agriculture. The land has also been “hollowed out.” presumably from some ancient race that once inhabited the north but is now unseen. (sounds familiar) Resulting in hollowed out rocks and caves that act as infrastructure to the peoples that live there.
The land above the tunnels and caves is controlled by men. Many tribes of nomadic or settled warriors. Typically a warrior culture lead by the strongest male or in some cases female. There is much competition for rank and control. The tribes also have peaceful means of negotiation amongst themselves. The “Althing” is a council used only once per generation. Emergency meetings exist, but are unexpected and most tribes will view it as a trick. Known for trading with the “Karim” or “the pale children”. Have advanced in the way of agriculture well. Munach used widely by these peoples. They are known to hunt an elk like creature called a Ya’kato. Which are versatile, leaping from mountain to mountain, on powerful legs. They can even get to be the size of a horse (I know there are no horses but that is about the size.) The tribes on the south have also come to construct simple boats. Maybe like that of the long boat used by the natives the northern Midwest. They may have, or may be discovering the middle ring. Again up to you. Also an interesting note, the northern ring is the only one with known deposits of iron ore. These humans have applied this iron technology with little success but has gifted them with the superior weapon line. Swords and mails are awkward and unrefined. Axes are viewed as quite unusual. While being able to weald most weapons the humans lack the training to use the long sling. In its place a lot of throwing weapons are used for hunting. By displaying wisdom and courage at tribal rituals they believe their totem gods grant them enhancing powers, that they need to ensure a good hunt or battle.
Also in the north, hidden in a few select geothermic caves is a race called the “Karim.” They only reach about four (4) feet tall, they are very slender, pale and do not go outside in the day. While they are primitive, mealy mining with picks and the like, they have found iron veins in sands stone and have been trading with the humans of that region for sometime.
The Karim are know for adapting and using the long slings quite superiorly. They try to avoid melee combat if at all possible, preferring to sneak in the shadows of their caves. They will resort to picks, but will also use surprise tactics and overwhelming odds to their advantage. Also, traveling through the caves for so many generations has granted these pale children almost a sixth sense ability. No entrance or exit, door, or secret crevice is beyond their notice. Even cave ins are predicted and avoided. They are truly the masters of their domain.

Middle Ring:
The middle ring is mostly deserts and buttes; dried up canyons, and your typical bad lands. Hidden dangers lie here, steep cliffs, quick sand and cracked ground leads to very traitorous travel. With a scattered oasis of life here and there, this land isn’t all bad. It has some of the nicest beaches in the world.
Vulture like birds called the Gra’mon, with wing spans up to six feet, scower the land for anything it can get in it’s beak. With dull brown plumage these birds can blend into the surrounding landscape quite easily. Though they are the last concern of yours.
Also in the deep sands of the desert there have been sightings of some sort of digging lizard. Usually nocturnal, the creatures are positively cocky when it comes to maneuvering through the sand. With it’s powerful mouth and crushing tail, not many face these creatures willingly. Hunting parties and coming of age ceremonies will look for the tell-tail swish in the sand, or strange circular patterns. Legend has these lizards know the way to secret water chasms underground.
The people that inhabit this area, the “Kar’dor”, tend to be nomadic, guarding the few oasis areas with constant vigor. They are large, hairy and vicious creatures. They have large feet, screaming “Jehad!” They are very barbaric, being a race that has adapted to the sands and harsh sun. They are very war like, and aggressive against others, including other tribes. Though it is said that they have the secrets of the deserts, there is no known recorded language. A few runes have been found, but are nothing like the rouge language of the people. As far as weapons are concerned, mauls are the most common weapon. Double axes are a personal favorite for those on the hunting path. But, if there is enough material, they like to use swords, the bigger the better. Clamors or basted are considered a status cymbal among other things. The shaman of these people are particularly dangerous. They are believed call forth the gust of sands at their will. Storms and wind can be harnessed by these dangerous men, and even a pledge of locusts are not out of their control.
Southern Ring:
This ring contains the majority of the fresh water for the entire planet. As a result it is known to sustain a lot more life. Such a diverse eco-culture from that of the first two rings. Grass lands and Forests, hills and swamps. Many beast and men roam the land in there own areas, oblivious to the other, or perhaps not. Full of conflict and advance, not the setting for your average writer.
Dangerous ape-like beasts roam the forest of the bottom ring. They tend to be omnivorous, but will resort to cannibalism if needed. They live in the trees and will rarely set foot on the ground, unless it is to dye their fur by rolling in leaves. Oddly enough, their fur markings give them a sort of camouflage to blend into the foliage. Though they tend to be more intelligent then most beast; they still choose to ripe your arms out of your sockets with their powerful arms and shoulders. Broad backed and strong, these monsters are best left to be in the deep forests.
Large monarchies of humans control the southern ring. While they are not the only humanoid inhabitance on this particular ring, they are politically strong. There are a lot of them. These governments tend to be a bit more oppressive, demanding the peasant class to work for the glory of the Monarch. They are far more technologically advanced than the northern and middle ring human civilizations. Axes are a very favored weapon, as iron must be imported. Quarter staves are very common to see, and basic siege towers have been seen. Along with a few trebuchets.
Another group inhabiting the deep forests, away from human intervention are the “pointed people.” Graceful and elegant, slender forms. Herbivores and knowledge about the woods and its hidden remedies. People often call them stupid for there lack of “value.” The life just simpler, moving at a slower pace and full of appreciation for the land around them. They have an avid belief in magic and its power to heal. They view it as a tangible force in themselves and everything around them. Tablets also talk of their race and the conjecture of the planets. Saying that it will lead to the extinction of the entire planet. For when there is alignment, these peaceful fey folks change into horrific, carnivorous monsters. But again, this is just legend they tend to use a lot of walking sticks.

dammit grubbs.

2004-09-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

where's the world? You told me Friday morning. it is now friday afternoon.

if it's a whoopin' you're a-wantin'....

The plan for tonight...

2004-09-15T05:44:00.000-07:00

I won't be there this evening, due to a funeral that I have to be at tonight.

The world we work on is this: A continent, on an earthlike planet, Fantasy setting. No spaceships/sci-fi stuff.

And here's the things I want people to be thinking about:
Hans: think about what governments may be set up.
Angel: Think about what kind of races there will be
Stephen: weapons/vehicles/technological status, iron age/bronze age/ etc.
Grubbs: Magic, what're the rules?
Erin(if you're there): Monsters. What are the enemies of civilization in this place?
Jason, you'll be doing what I'd be doing if I were there. You're going to handle the Environment on the continent. Desert, forest, moutnains, island chains off the coast? You get to decide.

Now, if I were there, here's what we'd do tonight: we'd read the writing done for last week, comment on it the first half. The second half we'd have each person go around in the circle and talk about what they decided on for the world. After Grubbsy has written everything down, and everyone has had a turn to talk, then we start to mesh the concepts, ie. this race lives in the desert, and is natural enemies of this monster which lives in the forest, etc. This should work really well.

And then for next week, we do some of the same stuff, except this time we're responsible for different things.

Goddammit. I wish I was going to be there tonight. Oh well. Feel free to comment on my story below. I'm planning to add more detail fo' sho'. Peace out, my bruddas.

Story to deal with the Mars World...

2004-09-15T05:40:00.000-07:00

The bones were lying out in the open. This was the Masters (as they’ve been known forever) at their best. So full of ego that they figured the sacrosanct nature of the stones and their dead would stop all beings from looking into the graves.
I didn’t care. I looked around. It had been some time since my masters had followed me out on a hunt, but it never hurts to be careful. Through my slit eyes the red landscape of mars was empty, dust swirls in the distance.
It was a good thing, as I went back to the transport that had been mine since I was raised up from the Earth. They didn’t need such things planetside, as at 20 feet tall they ate the distance with elongated strides. They made the transports especially for their chosen servants, making it easier for us to keep up with them.
I pulled back the pieces of netting over the bed of the transport, exposing the concealed illegal weaponry that I carried. Wait, I should explain that better. It isn’t illegal for me, a normal human. The masters are forbidden by law, when fighting amongst themselves never to weapons. We servants, on the other hand, are bound by no such laws. Those of us who are both resourceful and discrete, weapons are lying about like the bones before me.
The civilization of the masters is in downfall. There are those of us who have been around long enough to know what is useful from the discarded junk technology. We can fashion these objects from their ships into oftentimes overlooked personal weaponry. And with the amount of time that I’ve been here, my network of contacts can get me almost anything that I want or need.
I pulled out my first weapon, a modified Quaker. I laid that on the ground, because before I used it, I’d have to have my backup weapon in place. Once the aliens are flushed, they tend to be angrier than usual. The next weapon (my backup) was recognizable enough to any Master. It threw a radioactive beam, akin to the bombs that were recently used on the area of Sumeria, except localized into a beam.
Sumeria…that place is nothing but blackened ruined heaps now, smoking craters and charcoal grey dust floating slowly down. It’ll be uninhabitable for the next 4000 years according to my Master. It had been set off to stop one of the runaway Masters from setting up his own kingdom away from the others. These insurrections had become more often lately, with the Master’s Masters, or the King and Queen, turning their attention away from the outer colonies like Earth. Sumeria had been the first time they used Nuclears on any location on Earth. It must have been a very dangerous Master.
Usually, these Masters run to Mars if they aren’t insistent on setting up their own fiefdom. That’s where I come in. I’m the Prime Hunter to stop these renegades. I think the reason that they’ve got to be stopped, even on Mars, is that if they get away the whole system that the Masters have put in place seems to be shaky. That leads to fear, and then to dissolution of what we’ve got here as far as politicals go.
Fear upsets people beyond rationality.
Why don’t the Masters hunt for themselves? Some servants think that it is because they are so abhorrent to violence. This doesn’t explain Sumeria. I think I may be alone in the fact that I think the reason they don’t hunt is fear. They’re afraid of death. This may be because I hunt them, and see this all the time but still. It explains why they hide the bodies of their dead under gigantic rocks. It tells of their fear of death, not of the honor of the fallen.
I set my weapons up, put my goggles over my eyes, and shoved the end of the Quaker into the red dust of Mars. I noticed an odd formation near where the Quaker went in, it looked like some sort of face. Smirking to myself, I imagined it to be my prey, and stomped it out. I braced myself for the firing.
The Quaker shot, and it throbbed in my hands. It fired in bursts of sonics, and that’s what caused the crust of the planet to move when fired from a ship. That’s what the Masters told me when they raised me to this position, along with everything else I knew. They gave me that, in return for lifelong service. I thought it was a good deal. Especially now, when I’m out to kill one of their kind.
I flipped it off as the burial stone completely disintegrated. I readied the back up weapon to fire at the spot when I heard a voice behind me.
“I hope that was worth it. If someone else had seen that, they’d be so afraid of upsetting the runes on the stone that they’d kill you.”
I whipped around, and my beam weapon was snatched out of my hand. “Wha-?”
“Now, gray hair, be careful where you’re pointing that. What a look on your face! Your wrinkles are all standing straight!”
I started backing away slowly, faced with the master that I’d been hunting. He was short for one of their kind, reaching only three times my height, and his breathing apparatus undone. “You’ll die.” I said.
“Oh eventually. But by whose hand?” He replied, shrugging.
“Probably nature, if not by me. Your respirator is undone.” I nodded towards the machinations on his head.
“Oh, I know. I’m not worried, Death by nature is preferable to other kinds.” He said, and threw the beam weapon back towards the Quaker and the transporter.
I found myself facing the one I’m supposed to kill, who was unfortunately in between both my means of escape and my means of killing him. “I’m supposed to kill you.” I said, stupidly. I had no way to back that up.
“Yes, I’d imagine. No one comes out to the wastelands of Mars if they’re not on a mission.” He sat down in front of me, crossing his legs.
“Yeah? So why are you out here?”
“Please, sit. My mission is to talk to you.” He raised his eyes and looked at the Martian atmosphere, “ and then probably to die.”
“I won’t betray my Masters or my mission. Nor will I bow to you for some stupid kingdom you’re setting up.”
“Nor would I ask you to. I only want you to know something that I’ve discovered. Something that will rearrange your…loyalties.”
“To what purpose?”
He shook his head, and fully removed his respirator. “There, that’s better. The purpose? To make sure that one of your kind knows the truth.” He coughed out the last bit. The Martian air is deadly to any who breathe it for too long.
I said nothing, still casting about for ideas how I could end this. When you’ve cornered one, they usually start trying to bribe you, and talk, and keep alive longer. I don’t blame them, I’d do the same.
“Please, sit. I’ll die of atmospheric poisoning in a short period. Listen.” His eyes were open, pleading. I very rarely could stand against a Master when they spoke. I sat, but had things to say before I prepared to listen.
“The truth? The truth is that I’m a simple man, Anu’ska. I was born the fifth generation from the creation of the species, and it is pleasing to the Lord Osinara to be hunting you. My pride is my life.” I said, saluting hand over eyes as I’d done all my life in deference to the Masters.
“The fifth generation, indeed. And proud should you be, to be chosen for education by the Masters.” He said nodding, the words interspersed with more coughing. His eyes scanned my face as he paused for breath. “What do you think of the bombing of Sumeria?”
I was shocked. This was the first time any of the Masters had asked my opinion on anything, and like a fool I gave my answer right away in shock. “You are all afraid. Of something. I don’t think a master would cause that kind of fright.”
“You’ve spent a great deal of your life on Mars in pursuit of the frightful, and I’m inclined to agree with you.” My jaw dropped, and my respirator was loose, but not life threatening yet. I could only gape in surprise. No Master ever agreed with a human.
“They aren’t afraid of a Master. They’re afraid of something else. It appears there is a God that protects this planet, perhaps all planets. At least that’s what they were preaching in Sumeria.” More coughing, his nose starting to run with drops of blood. “Something started the humans there in an uproar. The Jews of the region began proselytizing to everyone else. It was a wildfire.”
“How do you know?”
“I was in control of the region. I ordered the nuclear attack. I was frightened.”
My eyes widened, and my hands hung slack as I sat there, taking this in.
“Now, as I’m dying, I need you to know the truth. You have been around the longest on Mars, and you have the respect of your peers. If this hysteria about a mysterious God continues, Earth may be a smoking crater in a very short time.”
I nodded. This Master may have been going into hysterics, but I knew that the amount of air he’d breathed would kill him. I didn’t need to worry about the bounty for his head, I’d harvest it later. I settled warily into a sitting position, where I could move fast if the hysteria caused him to do something crazy.
“You know the origin of the servants?”
“Yes. The masters took pieces of the lesser species, apes and chimpanzees and such, and bio engineered us.”
“No.”
“No?”
“We Masters live a long time. I’ll tell you what happened: We found you, preformed. It was frightening for us. You were the first species with intelligence that we had come across. At first there were calls for your destruction, then calls from calmer heads for your enslavement. You know what happened then.”
I nodded. But this wasn’t enslavement, it was employment.
“Where did we come from then?”
“I’m betting this mysterious God. The one who enflamed the people in Sumeria. We couldn’t even find anything that would appear on our scanners. It is something we have no experience with. The Masters voted for nuclear attack on the area that He has been appearing in.”
“So you destroyed it?”
“No.”
“How do you know? Surely it can’t be enflaming people there any longer?”
“How do I know? The God talked to me, and in all honesty, attacked me. I wrestled with it for quite some time, but could do nothing.”
“What did it look like?” His story was interesting, if not true. I didn’t know.
“He was bright, shining like a freshly polished bit of metal. I had to concede to Him. Then He told me: Well done! But it is from my race of man that one shall come who will wrestle me to a standstill. You have pleased me Anu’ska. You shall be my messenger to a man on Mars.”
“And he told me how to find you.”
He bent double coughing then, worrying me with his health. He staggered up, and fell over, lying on his side. “Why did the God want me?” I asked.
“Because you have respect for humans, something that has been almost taken out of the race of man by the masters. You must save the animals of Earth.”
“How? How am I to do this?”
“I don’t know…the nameless God said nothing except to give you this message. He said that you and the other humans would figure out what you should do.”
He coughed more then, and blood poured from his nose, a steady stream of red. He was not long for Mars. “I don’t know if I can do it.” I said.
“You must try, I go now to the God. I am now unafraid of death. Something that all Masters dream of being. The God has given me hope.” He rolled onto his back. He was wheezing, blood burbling out his mouth as well.
In the next few years after I turned his head in for bounty, and receiving extra pay because of the grotesque way he died, I organized and planned and found out more about this God. I had nothing better to do except prepare, and that was because I saw Anu’ska was correct about the future. More and more nuclear weapons and quakes were shaken out upon the Earth, and more and more people died. I heard the Master’s last words echoing from his death, and guiding me:
“You must save them, Noah.”

It is done; now stop your whining

2004-09-10T13:30:00.000-07:00

Notes on 9.8 modified
*) based of cuneiform mythology
*) Setting is Pre-Earth history
*) Earth was the only planet with gold;
Colonized to mine gold, but they have all
They need now, though this is just a conjecture
And not too heavily supported
*) humans and the “Anunnaki”
*) Bio-technology at that point was unsurpassable
*) 8‘-10’ tall; look like serpent w/ eagle head
But that just breathing and swimming equipment
*) Life span 300,000 years but challenge each other
To duel a lot
*) A lot of challenging; fighting would be hand to hand
With out weapons and naked; This was only in the case of
Honorable fights, otherwise weapons, ships and dirty tactics
Were used.
*) ships had vast technology : “shake the earth” sonic
Energy weapons, limited nuclear, pillars o fire
*) Home planet “Nibiru”, in a by system
*) Wars were ended on Nibiru by a marriage
Between south and north creating a monarchy
Anu wife to Antu
*) Enki and Elil (Enlu) pure-blood decedents of Anu and Antu
Rulers of earth
*) You may take artistic license
With pets and the like
*) Alalu in charge of mars mission; resentful;
Tries to claim fame. Tried to take parts
Of the Earth for himself, but was repelled
Noted for dueling, cutting off the other dudes
Genitalia and eating it; preventing reattachment
And killing him in the process. Poisonous seamen
And all. To bad, no head for them
*) Mars as a Weigh Station
*) Water is good, air is not breathable
*) Structure required, or breathing apparatus
*) As years go by, people on mars “Igigi”
Stay inside more and more, due to harshening
Solar radiation and the planet was drying out.
*) Nibiru forgot mars, now a hostel environment
No monetary system, just bartering
*) Working, in vein, on rebuilding communication
*) For funeral serves on mars,
They burry Anunnaki under a large rock
*) Population on mars 5000 at most
For colonies that stretch the length of the river
Divided into easily distinguishable blocks
(to ease ship landing)
*) No women were allowed on the mars mission
*) Marduke, son of enki, also known as “Ra” has
Over 50 names in that region alone
*) mars mission establish for a refuel before and after earth
For some reason couldn’t make it all the way;
Once starship technology advanced was no need for mars
Mission any more; After a while was forgotten about and left
*) Humans have one word names
*) May have many names
First is the Kingdom name, usually an ancestor ruler
They were proud of; Then a period (.) then family name
Maybe father’s, mother’s grandfather’s etc. Then Period (.)
Then their name (i.e. An.Shar.Gal)
*) mix naming was common for an unimportant child;
I.e. A child of a prostitute or harem girl
*) false claims to name were also common
*) Dolphins smartest creature on planet
*) “Tiamat” was hit by Nibiru causing a chunk to
Break off, forming earth and the asteroid belt and moon
The ability to sustain life was transferred to earth
*) Also cause one of Saturn’s moons to go out of alignment
Bringing into being Pluto
*) Land war on earth, usage of nuclear bombs
*) in the Sumerian reign, there were types of fused
Rock material that could only be
Made in a nuclear reaction
*) First humans were bio-engineered from apes for labor
Were incapable of reproduction, but would live 10 times
As long as second generation or common humans
*) Humans were made to procreate but became too
Hard to control, so the Anunnaki voted n council to allow
The flood and not warn humankind. Enlil went against
The council because he pitied humans and warned Noah of
The flood.

2004-09-10T11:35:00.000-07:00

Well, since Grubbsy seems to be a bit lax, here are what I can remember as the guidelines:

The world is Mars, roughly 7000 years ago, and it is a dying world. The atmosphere, I think we all decided, is going to be very thin, but breathable, the water is tasty and crisp.

The aliens(whose name I can't remember) are roughly 15~20 feet tall, and have come to earth to get gold for their atmosphere. Their civilization is waning, and they are the ones who supposedly created humankind.

They live a really long time too. Their weapons are shipbound, sonic earthshakers and pillars of fire(very bible-esque, as well as L. Ron Hubbard-esque(surprise surprise)), but the aliens prefer to fight hand to hand, and apparently butt-nekkid. Humans, however, are not bound by this law.

Also, when aliens die, they are buried under a big rock. THe home world is starting to ignore this lil' outpost of earth, but Mars is still the waypost for ships going to Earth.

REMEMBER the setting for the stories is MARS, not EARTH. MARS.

And that's all I can remember, but that's all I need for my story.

Damn you Grubbs

2004-09-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

You were supposed to post the guidelines for this week's world before today. I'm really not that mad, it just means that I will have to do the project on Monday.

Update

2004-09-08T20:47:00.000-07:00

Right, then. Hans, your blog is up on the sidebar. Everyone else... go look. Where the heck do you find this stuff?

I forgot to ask at the meeting, but do you want your e-mail address up too, or not?

Possible Itinerary For 9/8

2004-09-08T15:27:00.000-07:00

*) Discussing Works -
Also known as old business, open to looking at what has been posted to the form. Verbal critics or blind flattery, all postings are open season :D
* ) Current Projects -
Also known as new business, stories for class, majors, or the-hell-of-it could be brought in. If you are not afraid of red ink, like my self, and need a piece looked over bring it on in. I am sure we could give a few helpful subjections. Ihehehe
*) World building -
As an endeavor toward the anthology, it was brought to my attention that a possible world building session might be a good time. This could be done individually, but where would the fun in that be? World building would be the setting for a common story the group could work on together. Yeah, group activates.
*) Due Dates -
As summations have been sparse, and unscheduled. An idea was presented to have pre-selected post day or a day of the week we would like all who “assigned” writings posted on the blog.
SOMETHINGS TO THINK ABOUT
All of you who would like to participate in our “world building activity” which is hopefully all of you. If you could either think about or list a few thing that make a world. Now a world is just a current setting. Anything from time, to place, from era to current political situation. Please think about and contribute to the group list and discussion. That way we all can be on the same page, so to speak, about the setting of the group story.
PUBLIC SERVICE ANOUNCEMENT
This is a writing club, writing may go on. Because of this, I encourage everyone to bring paper and a writing implement. I am not specific so as to test your creativity. Thank your for your compliance.

Mike, and the like

2004-09-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if this is enough info, and I'm surprised that I'm the first one posting, but here it is.

My character's name: SCT-X15 (nicknamed "Mike")
Home: Warehouse 12-A, Storage room 8, Juno City, Mars
Age: 152 years old, but rebuilt a total of 17 times
Height: 6'
Weight: 786 lbs.
Occupation: Testing starships for Globovision Technical
Hobbies: See above
Favorite Foods: Grease, Freon
A little something about his personality: At a certain age, a robot has studied enough human beings to develop a sort of emotional-reflex system, using their countless stored emotional responses in the most human of ways. It is at this point in their existence that robots become a liability and are decomissioned. Mike, who has recently found his given name (SCT-X15) a little cold and not quite fitting his vibe, dubbed himself with the new nickname and thus sealed his fate.

Hazing Perhaps??

2004-09-02T05:25:00.000-07:00

"How intricate must we be, to paint the darks and lights of our reality.
How genious in design, that ourselves we may define."

I'll be around...

Meeting time?

2004-08-30T16:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, I just talked to Matt and we're thinking about a 7:30pm meeting this week on Wednesday (so that's the 1st of September). Does that work for you guys?

Mitch Hedberg

2004-08-27T12:43:00.000-07:00

is appearing at the Orpheum in the cities on the 11th of September. Who's going to roadtrip down there with me?

Gentlemen, Behold!

2004-08-19T15:48:00.000-07:00

So, it's getting to be that time again...time to say goodbye summer and hello coronary. Yes, it's back to school time, and you know what that means: time to plan our first Sci-Fi/Fantasy Writer's Group meeting.

I'm open everyday except Monday before 9pm, but what does everyone else think?

More on Inanis and Co.

2004-08-12T18:03:00.000-07:00

Here's an excerpt from the continuing senior project book, fresh off the comp today let me know what you think:

The station they came back to was not the one they had left. There were no bare windows, they had all been boarded up, and the building’s doors were closed tight. Rolig and Henki were looking around, and Inanis had an expression of worry on his face. They approached the front door quietly, the sense of trouble hanging in the air.
“What do you think is going on here, Inanis?” Rolig whispered.
“I’m not certain, but this isn’t like Yalnir at all.” Inanis motioned Henki over. “Rolig you take Henki out to the edge of the forest, I’m going to check out the main building. I don’t want her to get hurt, and me, well it doesn’t matter if I get hurt or not.”
“All right.” Rolig turned towards Henki.
“No, I’m not going.” Henki whispered.
“Yes you are.” Rolig said.
“I’ll scream.” She glared at both Rolig and Inanis.
Inanis quietly sang something, motioning towards Henki. He nodded towards Rolig, motioning him to take her. Henki started to say something, but there was no sound. Her eyes widened. She lunged towards Inanis, but by the time that she figured out what had happened, Rolig had a hold of her. He was muttering to her under his breath as he dragged her towards the edge of the clearing.
Inanis took no notice of Henki’s reaction. He walked towards the main building, seeing now that there were a few slits in the door. Three vertical ones, and one horizontal one. The windows were all boarded up. He slowed down as he neared the stairs and began walking up. On the third step he tripped something, and there were several zings. Not from the slits in the door however, but from places to the sides of the steps. Inanis felt three jolts, two in the right side and one lower in his leg.
He yelled out in pain, falling back from the steps, cursing.
Inside the building there came a shout. “Ha! You bandits have gotten it now!” The door opened wide and Yalnir stepped out, a sword in one hand and another loaded crossbow in the other. He looked down on Inanis. “For the love of the dragon! Inanis!”
Rolig and Henki began running when they heard Inanis’ shout, and Rolig bent over him. “Well, who did you think it was going to be, you idiot!?”
Yalnir dropped his weapons. “I’m so sorry! I figured friends would be a little bit louder on entry! Henki! Run inside the kitchen and start a fire. Put a pot of water over it!”
Henki nodded, and dashed inside.
“Yalnir, you’d better get some clean cloths, these are going to bleed when they come out.”, Rolig said as he looked over the three wounds that Inanis had, “These aren’t good. One straight to the side of the stomach, one pinning the arm to the ribs, and the one on the left right above the knee.”
“Oh God! I didn’t mean to…” Yalnir began muttering, and shaking his head as he left for the linens.
Inanis gritted his teeth. “Damn! DAMN DAMN DAMN! This hurts Rolig!”
“I’m sure it does, Inanis. Don’t worry, we’ll get you patched up here. Henki’s got some water boiling, and Yalnir’s gone for Linens.”
“why? You know this won’t kill me. We’ve got to take the arrows out now, though. You have to do it, Rolig right now.”
“But, we’ve got to do it cleanly!”
“I’m an immortal! We’ve got to get the arrows out now, otherwise the wounds will heal over them, and then we’ll need to cut them out…” Inanis groaned again, hands spasming with the pain.
“But won’t that be really painful?”
“Not near as much as me blasting you with magic! Pull them out!”

A story idea...

2004-07-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

So here I am, sitting in the shower, thinking about global warming (strange but true) and think up a wonderful idea...

The idea of earth as some sort of foreign egg.. Not just a planet, but a planet with something inside of it, once dormant and now, due to the warming of the planet, something newly incubated, something hatching...

That's all I have so far....

Please, anybody take that idea and run with it... Or tell me that it's a stupid idea that won't fly. Anywho, I just thought that I should have like, you know, some input into the group here.... That's my half cent...

HELP!!!

2004-07-16T16:55:00.000-07:00

HEAnyone who has visited my blog lately may have noticed something strange about it: it's completely fucked the hell up. Any suggestions?

A concept that should come up with some interesting stories...

2004-07-10T00:51:00.000-07:00

What if Merlin was a vampire?

I was playin' some Legacy of Kain:Defiance today, and that popped into my head. Would this explain some of the arthurian legends better this way, perhaps?

what do you guys think?

Sure, once...but that was a long time ago

2004-07-02T13:23:00.000-07:00

I shall be the first to test these frigid waters of July with a story that I posted in June, but quickly revoked. It needed some finishing touches. Now, here is the first section of a little number that I've affectionately named "The Lord of the Glistening Plains." (The name may need some work.)

The White Sun, the first and brightest of the four daytime suns of Zephyrian 6, beat down on the planet’s largest and richest city, Myriad. The dark red banners of the city’s leaders and the surrounding country’s warlords shone brightly, framed and divided by stripes of white and the natural metallic-iron color of the material itself. There were no cloth banners on Zephyrian 6, for the planet’s winds would devour any fabric faster than a soldier does liquor.

The massing war-banners roused some concern within the lower townsfolk of Myriad, partly because to them, it was another perfect day. The wind was a mild 134 miles per hour (inside the city’s walls, the wind speeds shrank considerably, almost to thirty miles per hour), and the White Sun was completely unhindered by clouds. They had no idea of the hovering spacecraft orbiting the planet, or of the alien war-band approaching fast from the air.

Even when the palace guard herded the townsfolk behind the citadel gates, shouting metallic words through bullhorns, they did not suspect the danger that approached on the wind. Several small warrior clans had attempted to siege the city in the past, and all had been successfully repelled. Some villagers had even refused to be taken behind the fortified palace walls, not sensing any threat.

Those villagers died first, though some would argue that they had the quicker, more humane deaths. Compared to those who burned to death, or who were crushed by falling stones from the roof, many welcomed complete and devastating obliteration.

For those not destroyed in the alien onslaught sought answers as to how their peaceful, fortified city had been turned to a pile of bleeding, burning rubble, and how the country’s first line of defense had been completely wiped out.

King Bellinghall and his advisors had no answers for the homeless, orphaned masses. The attack had come from the air, they said, and they were totally unprepared. Alone in council, they sat with stern brows and pained grimaces. Finally, the old man at the head of the room cleared his throat, and there was silence in the chamber.

“How do we prepare ourselves for when this sort of thing happens again?” He rasped his question with the voice of a man either very old, or laden with worry. In Bellinghall’s case, both were true.

A man with Bellinghall’s age and burdens rose from his position at the head of the councilors. “Lord, the way I see things, we have two options. One: We can tunnel ourselves underground, under the great mountains of the High Plains.” At once, a great murmur arose out of the assembly, shushed quickly by Bellinghall’s outstretched hands.

“I will not flee the place of my birth, my father’s birth, and the birthplace of every king to reign over this country for a thousand years.” The king squinted his eyes at the councilor, “And I will not live in a hole, like animals. Dafydd, what is your second suggestion?”

“Well, milord, we could always fight them.”

Another man rose from the head of the room, not a councilor this time. “We have already tried that, Councilor Dafydd. They are quite impervious to our attacks.”

The old war leader bowed his head to the speaking royalty, then addressed him: “Your highness, Prince Reezer, the aliens repelled our ground attacks, yes. But if we match their forces in the air, then there is a chance for victory.”

A small chuckle rose from the depths of the congregation, but the glint in Bellinghall’s eye allowed Dafydd to ignore their mocking.

“Councilor Dafydd,” Reezer resumed, “we have no air ships, as you well know. The planet’s climate does not allow for them. Why, the last crackpot to design an air ship was torn to pieces when the wind destroyed the hull and sand blasted away half of the engine, bringing it flaming to the ground.”

Dafydd and King Bellinghall exchanged small, knowing grins, then Dafydd spoke to the crowd. “When I was a young man, fresh from the Academy, there was a man so bold, so fearless, that he flew upon the wings of the air; he let the air propel him. He was a scourge in battle, soaring overhead with leather wings the size of a full-grown man lashed to his back. He would swipe the heads of his enemies with a sword six feet long. And when his silhouette flew against the early rays of the White Sun, he appeared as a bird of old.”

The gathered men shot sardonic smiles at one another, and the young prince was about to rebuff the foolish old man before the king himself chimed in.

“The Hawk Lord. No battle was ever lost to the forces who possessed his skills.”

“Father,” Prince Reezer impatiently addressed the king for the first time, “that story is just a myth. Even if the Hawk Lord did live at one time, he would be dead now, or at the least he would be an old man, and otherwise of no use to us.”

“Do not forget, boy, that you are still a subject in my court, and my rule is absolute.”

Question for the leader...

2004-06-26T14:28:00.000-07:00

Can a non-BSU student join our ranks? See, there's this guy, named Eddy, that does more sci-fi/fantasy writing than the rest of us combined... And I was thinking maybe an addition to him on our blog (he's from the cities) would stimulate some writing and discussion of ideas between the BSU members of our group... Just an idea...

Matt's Rant

2004-06-24T09:53:00.000-07:00

So I have been away and not writing, shame on me. I plan to release the second part of that story soon enough. I have been working 40+ hours per week and trying to jugle that, my naging family, two campains and *gulp* a girlfriend. Needless to say it it a bit overwelming for me. But I thank you all for your dedication and care.

I plan to relase part II Silvana the awakining, very shortly, hopfully buy this weekend. I am glad the stephan is now abord and look forward to a whole new sorce of writing genous. Take care all and yes, Angel please link my name to my L33CHR acount.
bye for now
Grubbs

Check me out

2004-06-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

Hey guys...

All this blogging has sparked an interest in me. Check the blog I made at http://the10thcircle.blogspot.com/ Thus far, nothing overly important has come out, but by next week I hope to post a story.

Angel...if you want, you can put this address by my name on the sidebar. If not, no biggy.

As per the suggestion...

2004-06-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

Stephen and Grubbs: either of you have objections to me linking your names in the sidebar to your e-mail addresses? And if not, which address do you want me to use?

Erin and Sean: I linked your names to your blogs. I can put an e-mail address link next to it (like mine) if you want. Let me know.

Hey Angel....

2004-06-12T06:11:00.000-07:00

on the sidebar, can you edit the webpages of those of us who have them, so that the name links to us, and for those who don't have pages, maybe their emails?

that'd be cool. Oh yeah, and read stephen's story. 's awesome.

more crap...if you can believe that

2004-06-11T11:39:00.000-07:00

This steaming mountain of defecation is a snippet of the third and final installment of my Death story. It is the ending, so I don't want people bitching about how it doesn't make sense.

If you actually care, you can e-mail me for the piece in it's entirety.

When I woke up, I was seated in a chair, in a pitch-black chamber. I could hear a cackling emanating from the encircling darkness, but could not pinpoint it precisely.
“So, traveler, what crimes have merited a punishment so harsh as to be chained in the deepest circle of Hell, with Lucifer himself as a cellmate?”
I caught glimpses of a moving being in the shadows, and I knew that the being speaking was the same creature I met on the Plains: Satan.
“I guess that you weren’t as important as we thought, eh?” Satan stepped forward, a thin layer of darkness separating his face from mine. It felt like the worst nightmare imaginable: lights flickered on and off, befuddling my senses, ghouls and demons pranced in hatred, and I had no perceivable way of escaping.
“I think I’ll start off torturing your family first. What’ll it be? Mom, pop, or maybe the little lady first?” Satan squirmed with delight at the prospect.
“Fuck you, degenerate. Too big to do what your betters tell you to?” The voice was mine, but the words belonged to a being not present in the room. “You are no better than the worms you share your palace with.”
“What do you know about following orders, Fortinbras? Your life was perfect from the beginning. We did all the work, while you gained the recognition.”
Death was transplanting words into my mouth; he was going to save me too, hopefully. “If it had been up to me, you would be crushed to sliming pulp now, buried inside these mountains.”
Satan laughed, and replied, “Well friend, it’s a good thing that it was not up to you. We’ll see how your meat puppet here enjoys eternity with me, in my house.” Satan finally walked into view, and he looked just as scorched as before.
“Unfortunately,” Death added, before Satan could lay hands on my body, “you cannot have him this time either.” I felt my body implode upon itself, and I exited Satan’s chamber.

Stone. Hot alabaster, granite, and marble – the makings of a forest of ancient statues. Funny, all that prospective beauty manifesting itself in a place like that. Standing alone, enclosed by fours walls raised from the very living rock below, I thought. That was all I could do really, as I was too afraid to breathe a syllable for the evil that slumped, brooding a short distance away.
Standing in the center of my stone prison, I guessed that it measured about nine feet by nine feet, though I’d never been good at measuring things. That was no understatement; if I had measured my happiness, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. Creeping toward one wall, I winced from the pain of my teeth biting into my lower lip. Standing before the wall, waiting for the blood to gush into my mouth from the wound to my mouth, I scoured for a door or a window or even a crack, some contact with the outside world, no matter how grotesque it may have been.
Running my hand along the rock, searching for a seam, I recoiled back like a snake bitten by a deadlier snake. The walls, while solid stone, were hot as molten rock. The acid smell of seared flesh traveled from my throbbing hand, and I turned my palm upward, expecting to find a mess of melted, bleeding, pussing flesh.
My hand, however, was unscathed, and even quite cool.
“A body impervious to damage, that still feels pain,” I thought aloud, “the perfect torture for an eternity.”
“Eternity?” A rich, familiar voice startled me from behind. “Hopefully it won’t take you that long, Mr. Mitchell.” Death. Though he hadn’t come to rescue me from this pit, his soft, warm face made my immortal eyes burn.
I longed to embrace my dark savior, but my human pride still stung the back of my neck.
“How long do I have to stay in Hell?”
“After all of our time together, and you still have not figured it out yet?” Death pointed to a spot along the wall behind me. “Sit.”
“Sit where?” I asked turning to look at the empty space that Death pointed toward. The space however, was no longer empty, as a marble desk and stool now occupied the cell with me. As I seated myself, Death leaned against the far wall; surprisingly, though, his black tunic and cloak did not catch fire.
“Ethereal garments, like their wearers, are quite indestructible, Mr. Mitchell. Now, to the business at hand: you are not in Hell. You are in Purgatory.” Death lifted his arm and drew an imaginary square on the wall of the cell. I watched with fear as the section of wall inside of the square disappeared, revealing the object of men’s fears and nightmares since the dawning of time.
A city, spewed in fire and darkness, sat grinding the bones of a million men, dead for centuries.
“Behold, Hell in all its wretchedness.” Death placed a hand on my shoulder, and I felt the pain brewing under the eaves and crags of the subterranean torture dens where old friends met their fates at the bloodthirsty hands of demons.
Reeling backward, I fell atop the desk and cowered like a child. “Shut it, please!” I begged, and Death waved his hand over the open window, sealing the fear outside.
“You are safe inside,” he comforted, “never long to see outside of your cell, for it will be there that you will stay. There will be temptations, as the lord of Hell is called the Deceiver in many lands; however, he holds no lordship over those that do not allow him.”
Shuttering the memories from my mind, I asked, “What do I have to do to escape this pit?”
Death felt the determination in my voice and pointed at the seat in from to f the desk. “Sit down and open the drawer.”
I reached down to my left and poked the marble slab. Not hot. Feeling for a grip on the slab, I pulled until my face turned red, barely moving the drawer enough to see inside. Within the drawer sat a single sheet of parchment paper and a pen.
“Paper? What am I supposed to do with paper?”
“People don’t listen to preachers anymore, you are proof of that yourself. The mass of people that are converted to the Lord’s House are reached through…external sources.” Death paused for a moment.
“What kind of external sources?” I asked.
“Books, movies, television shows; anything that can keep someone’s interest long enough for the message to come across.” Death smiled, and I finally caught onto why he chose to help me.
“So I have to sit down here and write bible school stories for the rest of eternity?” It was better than Hell, but not by a lot.
“Incorrect. You will sit down here and do whatever you want until Christ takes the throne of mankind, then you will be judged by God a second time. The volume and effectiveness of your writing will determine the fate of your soul for the rest of eternity.”
I pulled out the sheet of paper and the pen from the drawer. “How long is that?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to tell you in terms of days, years, or millennia, for that matter, so I will leave you with this.” Death produced an oil lamp taken from the pages of Arabian Nights, and I half-expected an ill-tempered genie to snake his way from the hole. “When the flame from this lamp dies, you are out of time.”
I buried my head in my hands, “I’ve haven’t written anything since I was in school; Death, I can’t do this.”
“Don’t you ever tire of whining?” Death was smiling, and I gave a muted chuckle. “The first step in writing anything is a title.” Death put the pen in my hand and dropped my hand on the faded, curling, white parchment. I watched the shadows from the flame dance on the whitish paper.
What most people would call inspiration, I called desperation as it nagged at a dark corner in my mind. Taking the pen, I jotted a line on the middle of the paper: “‘FROM HELL’ by Bruce Mitchell.” I paused, “Death, this is the only piece of paper in the drawer, what do I do now?”
“Look in the drawer now,” Death said. Another piece of parchment, identical to the first, sat at the bottom of the marble tomb.
“There,” Death started, “I can feel your muse coming on, so this must be goodbye. I know that I will see you again; I just hope that between then and now, you find your happiness.” Death pulled me between the great wings that he called arms, and I loosed a fit of tears into his black shirt.
I looked up at his warm face. “Happiness is just a word to me now. It might have meant something better if I had known the difference. Goodbye, my friend.”

dum-de-friggen-dum

2004-06-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

good day all... Hotmail (a.k.a. wild, ravaging boar in heat) has continued it's campaign to rape me, not allowing me to join these here festivities. Never fear, however, for my $10,000 a year at BSU has finally come though for me. By sending the blog thing to that account, I have joined yon group with high expectations...which were soon dashed and crying, like a child in the rain.

Anywho...writing's been sidetracked by the immense amount of reading assigned everynight by Cobbo da Furor (don't tell her I said that...) and working everyday. Ideas do flurish, awaiting an opportunity to present themselves on paper.

Peace

Finally got around to it

2004-05-23T22:36:00.000-07:00

I had an idea a couple months ago for a short story about a man who is in a mental hospital and thinks his hands are disappearing. Anyone remember that? Anyway, I decided start writing it. Here's what I've got so far:

Today they are passing out thick sticks of charcoal and rough-textured drawing paper. Miss Waverly, the drawing lady, said we could draw anything we wanted. I pick up the black stick. It feels strangely light and awkward in my hand. I have to be very careful now when I am drawing, to get the picture to come out right. I want to draw my hand, but not like it is now. Like it was before they locked me away.

I start carefully, the thumb first, with its elegant curve across the back of the nail, and the bony, knobby knuckle. Then the wide, square shape of the palm and its thick lines: life line, heart line, head line. I make the lines especially dark and heavy, like they are on my hand in the right lighting. Then the other fingers, long and thin with the same knobby knuckles as my thumb, thin, delicate lines where they bend, squared-off fingertips; a man’s hand. I work slowly, trying to make every line perfect. Trying not to forget anything this time.

Miss Waverly has been strolling through the room, examining the patients’ artwork. She pauses at my table and bends over to get a better look as I work on the shading. I look up expectantly at her, marveling at how pretty she is, with her large brown eyes and straight dark hair that falls just to her shoulders. She gazes at my drawing. My heart beats just a little faster. She is so pretty, I think. I hope she likes my picture. Maybe I will give it to her if she does. After a moment, she catches my eyes and asks, “Why are you drawing with your left hand again? I thought you were right-handed.”

I look down and sigh. “Because,” I explain, exasperated, “my right hand’s going away again.” I don’t know why she asks these questions every time. I’ve told her about my problem before. She hums thoughtfully and points one small, delicate finger at my drawing.

“Did you notice that some of the fingers are missing?” she asks. I look back down at my picture in disbelief. I was so sure I’d done it right this time, that everything was there, but as I count the fingers, I see that there are only three. There is nothing I can do but stare at the drawing, speechless with dismay. After a moment or two, Miss Waverly smiles and pats my shoulder, then starts towards the next table.

After she leaves, I hold my right hand up in front of my face. Two fingers are missing today, my ring finger and my pinkie, the same digits that are missing from my drawing. With a sigh I set down the charcoal on my desk. I will have to try harder tomorrow.

a thought on grubbsy's piece

2004-05-23T08:13:00.000-07:00

I'm currently thinking about critiques on your piece, grubbsy..

first thing, well...'s rather cliched. I'll have some deeper stuff later on today possibly. Of course, if I go to Troy tonight, I probably won't do it tonight because I'll be in a bad mood.

Tell me what you think........LEGACY

2004-05-22T00:15:00.000-07:00

"Papa, no Papa don't go," Sara screamed at her father as three men in dark blue uniforms tried to drag the man out of the front door.

At this, one of the three men stop and turn toward Sara. "Don't worry about him little girl, we already have a nice new home for him." He smiled, but not out of kindness for there was none in his heart. His brown eyes were empty and his smile was uncaring. Sara could only feel sad, as warm tears streamed down her checks. She wanted to go to her father. To hold him, and keep him from leaving. Her mother was crying, sobbing, and holding her back. Why was her mother holding her back, why were these men taking her father, what right did they have? She needed her Papa.

Sara leapt as her mother's grip lessoned and grabbed onto her father's hand. "Papa, no, I won't let you." She was very strong for her age and held on tight.

Her father's hand enclosed around her wrist, "Sara I'm sorry, so sorry, but I can't stay."

"But why Papa, what did you do," She whined.

"Nothing, I didn't do anything Sara, you have to believe me, this is just one big misunderstanding." His eyes were warm but also full of fear.

"No, Papa don't leave, you can't go." Sara persisted at tugging at her father, now dropping like a dead weight.

"I told you girl," it was the man in the blue uniform again only this time he wasn't pretending to be nice. "He's going, your daddy has been a bad boy, saying bad things and now he's going to be punished for it."

Sara didn't know what bad things her father had said and didn't care. They didn't have a right to take her father and was about to say so when she felt a sharp pain in her side. She looked down and saw a black boot had hit her right bellow the rib. She now knew what it felt like to be a kick ball as she flew backwards, spinning in mid-air. She could see the man again, he was smiling, only this time there was joy. He liked it, he had hit her and he liked it. Sara couldn't imagine how someone could find joy in such a thing. It was at this time that the kitchen table broke her fall. She hit it hard, but it did not break under her.

Sara looked over at the men in the dark blue uniforms dragging her father. They were almost out the door. Her back was sore and her hand was warm. She looked over and realized that a dinner knife was digging into her skin. Red blood was streaming down the knife and onto the table. But not as fast as the tears that were streaming drown her face and onto the floor. Sara felt some thing unusual then, rage, anger. She wanted to get her father back, she wanted to get even.

Sara rolled off of the table and onto the floor. The knife still in her hand, only this time the blade was out. She moved forward, keeping low, her eyes focusing on that man, and his uncaring smile and uncaring eyes. He didn't care if her Papa was gone. She would make him care. Stepping carefully she moved with haste to the door were her father was giving his last great struggle.

Sara looked up, knife behind her back so they could see it. She understood now, she knew what she had to do. She had seen it on the vid-screen when her parents didn't know that she was up. They did a lot of talking, most of it about the Galactic Federation. On screen they made it sound like a group of angels, but the way her parents talked they were far from. She understood that now, she knew they were bad, and bad people needed to be punished.

"Listen brat, I told you to go away, your Daddy..." But the man in the dark blue uniform, with his empty eyes and wicked smile didn't get to finish his statement. "Ahh!" A sharp scream left his lips instead as the little girl he had shone so little compassion returned the favor. She was a jumper, it was apparent as a new cut, a deep cut had engraved itself upon his face. It had narrowly missed his eye but wouldn't go away soon, and he drew his hands up to stop the blood. Sara's father seized the opportunity and struggled free, but he didn't run to Sara he ran away out of the house. Sara just stood there, bleeding and crying as her father ran out of her life, forever.

The story so far...

2004-05-21T23:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, Sean asks some questions that need to be answered in a post instead of the comments, so here goes:

First of all, the title. I was sorta kidding about oneironauts (did you know that the term is usually used for lucid dreamers? Never say I don't do my research...), because I realize that it would be problematic. But we should come up with something creative. Like I said, suggestions are welcome.

The second issue is the purpose of this blog. As it was described to me by our dear Grubbs, our mission is three-fold: Firstly, to keep in touch; secondly, to share our work and critique each other's writing; thirdly, (this will most likely not apply much until college starts again in the fall, for those of us who are still going to be there) is to use this blog as a way to remind ourselves of meeting times and deadlines, since the plan is still to get things published.

Another possiblity that was mentioned was that we could use this space for collaborative projects. I'm not exactly sure what Grubbs has in mind here, but I'm hoping that he'll explain it once he's on the blog.

Finally, ground rules. I don't know if you could call me the ringleader, exactly, since I'm only administrator by dint of the fact that I'm pretty good at using this Blogger thingie. But in the interest of making things run smoothly (and because I'm the one with the power to kick out all the rowdies, heh heh), I'm willing to make rulings on anything that becomes problematic here. So here we go, my first two rules (wow, I feel powerful...)

1. Swearing: as far as I'm concerned, it's fine as long as you don't overdo it (Hint: if every other word in your posting is a swear word, you've overdone it), and as long as it's not personally targeted at anyone. We're all grown-ups here (or at least pretending to be), so we can deal with it. If this is a problem for anyone, let me know and we'll work it out.

2. Post Length: Please try and keep it under 1000 words, for ease of reading and scrolling. If you have a longer piece that you'd like people to take a look at either post only a 1000-word section of it, or if you want people to read the entire thing, find somewhere else to put it up and just post a link to it here, or if you don't have another place to put it, let me know and I'll help you figure something out.

Now for a technical issue: On the sidebar to the right, I'm setting up a list of members. If there's any sort of contact information (e-mail address, personal blog, whatever) that you want your name to link to, let me know. Mine links to my e-mail address, for example, so y'all can contact me personally.

Ack! Now I've got the southern-speak bug too! But then, I spent a semester two years ago living with a girl from New Mexico who had spent most of her childhood in Louisiana and spoke like a Texan. Painful, very painful. I guess I picked up a little of the dialect.

Now, my friends, I am getting pretty tired. It's past 2 AM. Time for me to go to bed. Talk to y'all later.

So what're we up to with this blog?

2004-05-21T19:51:00.000-07:00

Question for you all, here: What're we going to use the blog for, other than keeping in touch?

Also...I don't know if we can continue using the oneironauts name for this...since I am not sure if I'm going to be in college next year, I am unable to be part of the club...so a new name would be advisable. I'm just sayin'

Also: I'm sorry for continuing to push this...BUT...publication should be our goal this year. I suggest we all work on one or two pieces this summer, and try to get them published.

We could use this space to keep ideas together about what we're writing, have a communal space where we could share short 1000 word stories, things like that? I'm thinking that's what would rule with this...also we could share places that would publish sci-fi fantasy stuff, be they websites or publications.

What think y'all? Oh shit...too much country music listening! OH CRAP!! Is swearing allowable here, or no? Angel you're the head ringleader of the blog, you'll have to set some ground rules or somesuch...

What up, my homies?

2004-05-21T13:42:00.000-07:00

I will crush all who oppose me! Bwahahaha!

how's it going? I'm currently thinking of coo' titles as soon as I can wake up fully from my nap.

I'm thinking Iced Cream Headache might be right out though...

Oooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!

2004-05-20T20:09:00.000-07:00

Awwww... And you did... Here's the second member of the Sci-fi Fantasy Writer's Club, signing into our very own, brand-spanking new blog..

Nice to have you all here tonight, thank you, thank you...

*Takes a deep bow*

My, yes, let's get this par-tay STARTED!

Aaaaannndd..... write!

Welcome!

2004-05-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

It is I, your faithful administrator, announcing the shiny new Science Fiction/Fantasy Writing Group Blog! So, what do you think of the new place? A little barren so far, huh? That will be remedied soon hopefully. Right now, I'm waiting on a list of who wants to join this endeavor. I'll add new members when I get their e-mail addresses.

But until then... the first order of business is a title. The one I've got up there is certainly accurate, but a bit... clinical, if you ask me. Does anyone have a better suggestion? Maybe someone should ask Hans how to spell "oneironaut" (is that right?).

That about wraps up this first posting. Anyone with ideas/suggestions for the layout/title/whatever can let me know.