OK, we're done here

There's a tweak or two, but thelemur.net is officially live now. I will not be posting on blogspot anymore.

What am I doing here?

Planning tonight. I'm not entirely sure what I need to write. Which of these am I developing right now and where do I take the next step? Feedback in the form of comments would be useful folks.

Anyway, I've got to decide how some basics are going to play out in some of these stories before I can go further or else they will be very unsatisfying for me and any readers.

So, hopefully this doesn't come out as an excuse, but I am making decisions about some of these. And instead of playing I'll be setting up the blog elsewhere so I can be in more control.

The Fallen, ii

A voice whispered on the air. At first she wasn’t sure it was a voice, and not just the sound of the wind in the trees. She looked around, her arm still leaning on the tree, but she saw nothing. She closed her eyes again, wondering if she needed to add hallucinations to her list of concerns. Everything was so strange.

It came again, closer this time. It sounded more like words, but she couldn’t understand it.

“Who?” she asked the air around her as she looked around. She pulled her hand from the tree and turned her body, trying to find who it was. “What are you saying?”

The soft breeze on her face was briefly warm, like someone’s breath, and she finally heard the words.

“What comfort can I give?” the wind whispered. She blinked, wondering again if it was in her mind. But as she opened her eyes, a figure seemed to form from the dark patterns of the tree on which she leaned.

It took the shape of a girl, the hair was wild, shoulder length. She couldn’t see colors in the night, but the hair and skin were fair colored. She had long graceful arms and legs, and wore a short sleeved dress that fell just below her knees. She wore no shoes.

“I am Sylfania, and this is my oak tree,” she said. Her voice still sounded like the wind but came louder, easier to hear, but still soothing. “I’m sorry I spoke too softly, I rarely speak to anyone but the animals. It’s been ages since I’ve seen a blood human.” She had a slight smile on her face – not of mockery but welcome. “Who are you? And what aid can I give? I can feel your confusion… your pain.”

The angel was silent for a moment. “I… am Shia Al’Matar,” she spoke suddenly. “An angel of…” she trailed off, remembering that she didn’t know any more. “I’m an angel,” she said quietly. “What do you mean a blood human? Aren’t you …”

Sylfania’s smile returned. “I am not a daughter of man, no,” she said. “I am a dryad. A spirit of the trees. No blood runs under my skin. If you are an angel… do angels have blood?” She pinched her chin between her thumb and index finger, her eyes narrowing as she studied Shia. “I have not learned of angels.”

“I… really don’t know,” was all Shia could answer. “I don’t seem to know anything – how I got here, where I came from, what I must do, what’s happening to me. I don’t know what to do.” She rubbed her arms with her hands, arms crossed in front of her. She wasn’t cold. Not truly. She suspected that if she were not an angel she would have been. But thinking of her situation made her think she should be cold.

Sylfania’s tilted her head. “I cannot give you comfort,” she said. It was a matter-of-fact statement. “I must take you to someone who can. She reached out to take Shia’s hand.

Shia balked. She didn’t know if she should trust this person. But what choice did she have, really. She had no one else. Nowhere else to go. She didn’t know what the dryad had in mind, but she knew it must be better than weeping alone in the woods. Slowly reached her hand out and took Sylfania’s.

The dryad’s smile grew. “I think there’s a road this way,” she still spoke softly, so that Shia had to strain to hear it all. She pulled Shia in a direction at angles to the direction she had been following. She whistled, and in a moment a bird landed on her shoulder. Sylfania’s wind-like speech continued, but Shia couldn’t understand the words. The bird made a series of chirps and whistles and other sounds, as if it were speaking with her. A few moments later the bird flew away again. “Trundle will scout for us,” Sylfania explained.

Shia remained mute. She was more surprised every moment of this journey, but She felt sure she would continue to be surprised by everything. After all, why wouldn’t a tree spirit speak with birds?

Putting more trust than she believed she had in the dryad, she allowed herself to be led into the night.

The Fallen

She pushed herself up out of the mud, wondering how she'd come to be lying in the mud in a forest during the darkest hours of night.

The ground was damp, the mud only on the very surface. From the smell of it, the rain had been very recent. She looked up but couldn't see any stars. The clouds hid them well. The wind blew her hair into her face and made whispering sounds through the unseen tree branches. She thought she should be comforted by those sounds, but instead she found it caused a shiver deep inside her.

That was all she could tell about where she was.

She was wearing a long, cobalt blue gown, made of silk and satin. It was very light, and she could feel the breeze on her skin underneath it. On her back she had a dark cloak which cleverly concealed her two sets of wings. She must have been trying to hide that she was an angel, she thought as she started walking through the woods. The moldering leaves crunched and rustled as she stepped through them. She had no idea where she was going, just that she should get somewhere.

Why would… She stopped walking as she tried to remember the name of the god she served. Why would she send her here? And who was he? Why couldn't she remember?

She slumped against a tree. A great mass of grief and fear rose into her throat and filled her head. What was going on? She didn't think she had ever felt so helpless. The feeling was almost a tangible thing. She clenched her teeth and crushed her eyelids shut, willing herself not to cry. It would not do. A solitary tear emerged from her left eye, and slid halfway down her cheek, but no other tears.

She pushed away from the tree with one arm, holding herself steady.

E SMASH!

I am totally moving this blog. As soon as I have it configured right it will be on thelemur.net

BlogSpot has some issues. The gadgets are weak, and formatting is all relative. If I have a RT editor, I don't want to look at the HTML. I want one or the other. Not both.

Grr..

Anyway, as promised, two new characters are introduced in today's post. I'm about where I had the story planned for S.N.E.A.K.S. I have some vague ideas more but... yeah.

S.N.E.A.K.S., part 3

Master stared at Vrash for several long moments before speaking. "I made a bet today," he said as he began pacing before the gladiator. This was no surprise to Vrash. That was how owners made money off gladiator matches. "I'm not sure whether I'm pleased or not." He paced some more before saying anything else. "Well, I suppose that's it then. You're a free man now."

Vrash blinked. For the first time in his life, he was truly surprised. "Free?"

Master frowned and grunted. "You win too much. The other owners were forcing me out. They set up what they thought would be an impossible match. Their four best, armed, against you, unarmed. If you lost, the were to pay me what they thought was several times your worth. If you won they would force me out of the arena. No one would ever agree to a match with any of my fighters. Unless You no longer competed."

He resumed pacing. "I confess I considered simply retiring you. You've been a great asset. But I can't use you among my guards and you can't tutor my children. The expected thing was to kill you. But I'd sooner put down a prize horse. You have provided me with a great deal of wealth. I can give you a small amount of coins, but you're not allowed at the arena, on pain of death." He stopped pacing, his back to Vrash. "Good luck in your new life, wherever it may be."

Vrash was still standing in position to be inspected as he watched his former master walk away for the last time.

CHAPTER 2

Dink tromped into the small, semicircle auditorium through doorway, which he noted was double wide. Exactly for persons of his description. His gigantic metal body took special considerations in architecture. And since Structs -- living beings made from metal or wood or what-have-you by magic wielding engineers -- had only been recognized as "alive" in the traditional sense for a decade, there wasn't a lot they could expect out of society. This organization, however, seemed not just willing, but interested in accomodating his special needs.

Dink himself was made of iron and steel. And copper, and a few alloys. His creator hadn't had a lot of one material, apparently. Dink didn't mind his unusual composition, however, and often spent time simply contemplating the appearance fo the mash of materials.

His creator also hadn't been exceptionally creative when designing him. He was, essentially, a giant metal ball with two huge legs and two arms that ended in hands with opposable thumbs and three other digits, and a domed head he could swivel. There was a human approximation of a face thereon, but other than that, he didn't look much like a person.

Dink tried to be careful as he stepped into the room, but it was nigh impossible to do it without making a loud sound. And as his first step into the room revealed, he had startled someone.

Perched on the large desk at the front of the room was a girl. She had thick hair, pink, that covered her head and tumbled off her shoulders. She also had a long, pink, cat tail that twitched nervously in the air. And sticking out of the mass of unbridled hair were two cat ears -- also pink. Dink lastly noted that in place of feet and hands she had pink cat paws. There was no hair on the rest of her. Or at least Dink assumed so. She was wearing a loose shirt and shorts. Her legs and arms were bare skin. Her large round eyes were a deep green.

She hissed.

Dink paused. He supposed if he were capable of it, he would have blinked. Instead his impassive looking oval eyes remained still. He spoke carefully. "You are a Furleen?" he asked. "I have not met one of your kind before. I am Dink."

The catgirl came forward, but crouched defensively as she approached with a slow and careful gait up the incline. She walked all around Dink and finally stopped at his side. She jumped up on a chair next to him and crouched on her hands and feet as she looked at him. "You're a dink? What does that mean?" she asked suspiciously. Dink noted that she had more canine teeth than other humans.

"I'm not a dink," he corrected. "I am a Struct. My name is Dink."

The catgirl nodded slowly. "I see. Are you here to tell me to leave?"

"Why would I tell you to leave?"

"People don't like... my kind." She said, squinting. The suspicion in her voice was still heavy.

That sentiment was something Dink could appreciate. He turned and lifted a chair slightly, stacking it on another. There was no way it would support him. He sat down on the floor and looked at her. He wanted to appear less threatening. "I'm only here because the elf-woman at the front directed me here. I am to wait for a representative. I would guess that's not you." He hoped that would come across as a joke.

The Furleen's muscles relaxed, and a small grin appeared briefly. "Nope." She sat down on the floor and looked at him. "My name is Linella."

New poll over there.
<------- At least two of the [tbi] characters will show up in the next day or so.