OOC: From an outsider's viewpoint, it looks rather like you're losing a lot of them already, trading in freedom to get some security. Not to put too fine a point on it, if the US seemed to live up to its ideals in international relations and treatment of its citizens instead of using them as a figleaf for 'real-politik', the world would be a better place. Sad really.
IC:
Kiri: Jaela would have loved to see this.
Gerald: Do you think she isn't aware of it?
Kiri: I don't know. It'd be nice to think she's aware of her sister's actions today, but I have no idea how awake the souls of those who join the Flame are. *stares into the Flame* Peace is what she wanted though. Whatever those who hate the Silver Flame might think, she did her best to work towards it.
Gerald: And we will continue to do so. Whatever the Dark Pack or those like them might think of the idea.
Kiri: *nods* It may be that they will never learn trust. All we can do is try to show them by example. But at least the Dark Pack is honest about their opinions. I can respect that even when I know they're wrong. At least most people are prepared to at least stand back and give peace a chance, without the Thorns and the Voice in the Flame to provoke things. We've had enough war between those who share the task of protecting our world.
First thing for people working on providing new features should remember:
People hate change for the sake of change. They usually don't mind genuine improvements, but change just because it's change and therefore cool tends to get hackles raised.
Second thing for people working on providing new 'improved' features should remember:
It shouldn't be hard for users to figure out how to turn them off if they don't like them. Just because the programmer thinks he's had a great idea doesn't mean everyone else is going to agree with them.
OOC: From an outsider's viewpoint, it looks rather like you're losing a lot of them already, trading in freedom to get some security. Not to put too fine a point on it, if the US seemed to live up to its ideals in international relations and treatment of its citizens instead of using them as a figleaf for 'real-politik', the world would be a better place. Sad really.
OOC: Believe me when I say that point, even without all the other things that drive me crazy, is enough to keep me awake at night. The hypocracy of so many gives me migranes. If people like me want the government to be a force to defend against abuse by our fellow citizens, we're called Communist-Fascist-Nazi-Socialist-Terrorist lovers. Yet the people who say those things have no problem using the government to cripple immigration, deny citizens fundamental rights, and attack anyone and everyone who doesn't immediately kneel down before their demands and beg for mercy. You can't use logic on these people. Their fundamental worldview is suspicious of factual information, relying instead on blind faith and whatever hate their enablers are spewing at the moment.
Case in point. The Birthers claim that Obama is not a natual born citizen, and that he should just provide his birth certificate if he wants to prove them wrong. The problem? His birth certificate is readily available online and in the offices of the Hawaiian government. They claim that one is a forgery. As of now, two "real" birth certificates have been brought forth and debunked in hours, yet they refuse to accept reality. These are the people in command of the debate. It disgusts me.
I think it might be hard for outsiders to understand the extent to which the "fear of the other" has overtaken thought in this country. To be a liberal/progressive is not merely to hold a different point of view from these people, it is to be a dangerous outsider bent on destroying what they believe is "real" america. To be an immigrant is to be someone who threatens to undermine "their" america. To compromise is to betray. To understand a different viewpoint is to be weak. To be homosexual is to be an abomination.
To them, it is worth destroying the fabric of what we are as a democracy to defeat this "other", whether it be terrorists, liberals, homosexuals, immigrants, or even someone who would rather talk than kill. They know naught but fear and hate, and will stop at nothing, not even becoming the very thing they want to fight, to get their way.
IC:
Year 100 of the Sixth Age
The old guard of the Watchmen, the heros who had made the rebirth happen, had largely passed on. Only a few remained, and most were nearing the end of their lives. Emperor Gerald had been dead for three decades. Empress Kirielle was now an old woman, though physically she was as young as when she had taken the throne. By the time he had passed away, Gerald had managed to forge Khorvaire into a largely cohesive unit, and Kiri's management had left governance almost self-sustaining.
As those who had endured the agony of the Fifth Age became fewer and fewer, it had become increasingly clear that the new generations were different. Not merely free from the horror, but something all together new. The limitations of the past no longer seemed to apply. It was not just technology that advanced at incredible rates, but social dynamics were amazingly resilient to changes in environment, technology, and any problems that cropped up.
The recovery of the Sarlonians, once believed to be nearly a millenia away, was already showing real signs of taking root. The dragons had opened up their home, and their once ruined culture was flowering again. Xendric, ever a place of mystery and adventure, was giving up its secrets even as Stormreach reached new heights. The seas, under Illiden's protection, were no longer the treacherous barriers they had been.
It was in this world that little Talia Vulpes had been born, and the world that, as a young woman, she now explored. Mia had been the one to suggest the name, and her granddaughter was quite fond of it. She knew the history behind that namesake, both the good and the bad the former Talia had done, but it was some of the hope and drive that had been twisted into a misguided vision that her grandmother had hoped to impart.
She was a lovely child, though one none would have imagined at the time of the Rebirth. Her clearly draconic wings were covered in pure white feathers, and her long striped tail mixed with the reddish fur and long floppy ears to mark her unusual parentage. Her father was Mia and Cassius Jr's son, while her mother was the daughter of Kirak and one of Maya and Melissa's daughters. The blood of the Vulpes was still strongest in her, and the mixing of blood had become more and more commonplace in recent years, so she wasn't as unusual as one might imagine.
From a young age, she had been drawn to the Arcane Congress. The magics and knowledge contained in its walls had interested her far more than any affairs of state, which she was more than happy to leave to her more driven cousins. It was through that that she knew something was happening. The currents of magic had begun to show direction, and the laylines of the world were waking up, flowing towards Caer Shadowfast.
It was from her perch atop one of the spires of the Arcane Congress than she watched and observed. She could feel the giddiness of Myobu, God Usagi, and Tigyra when she quieted her mind, and the angelic blood in her sung happily as the energy continued to move.
Tasha: Enjoying yourself?
Talia: Hi, gramma.
Tasha: *grins* I never get tired of hearing that.
Talia: :P Are you here to watch what's happening?
Tasha: Of course. Would you like a clue as to what it is?
Talia: No thanks.
Tasha: *chuckles* Good choice. I have my suspicions, but we'll see if they're borne out, hmm?
The two of them watched quietly for nearly an hour as the Sigil still underlying the city glowed ever more brightly.
The energy began to flow inwards, forming a swirl of activity at the center. Tiny balls of light moved about until, as if on command, they all began to arc skyward. They weaved though the traffic and floating highrises, reaching above the city before pausing for a brief moment. Without sound or fanfare, they rocketed upwards, vanishing into tiny specks.
It was not until several minutes later that the next stage occured. The Ring of Siberys glowed softly, starting from a single point above where the other lights had vanished and spreading to the entire ring. It happened again and again, each time the ring growing that much brighter.
Talia: What's going on?
Tasha: I think...but they vanished years ago...
Shemhazi: Yes, those were the Divine Sparks.
Talia: Is it in your job descriptions to appear from nowhere whenever you feel like it?
Shemhazi: Yep.
Tasha: Why now?
Shemhazi: In short, they needed to reenergize. With the dawn of this age, they were no longer needed, so they went to sleep in the care of someone they could trust. Now that they could make it, Patch sent them on their way.
Tasha: Figures.
Talia: I wonder if this means Siberys is coming back.
Shemhazi: Back? No. Siberys is dead. But perhaps a new life will grow from his demise...
"Some men see things as they are and say 'why?' I dream things that never were and say 'why not?'"
It had been 20 years since anyone had seen the Lord of the Spire. Barely anyone remembered him from last time.
There were myths about that tower that pierced the heavens. That the Lord was immortal. That he had witnessed the rise of lycans, and in fact engineered it. That he was a god watching over them.
The last one was, of course, a lie. Angels could not be gods at the same time, after all. But still, the figure had been elusive as all he knew had slowly died once again. Even his wives were gone, from old age. Many of his children had left the planet itself. He hadn't even moved in the past decade, staring at the reformed ring.
Patch: ...*picks up a robe* *shakes some dust off*
But today was special. He slipped the cloak on as the elevator opened in the floor, and he began his descent. Today was the day...
*Ding*
The doors slipped open, and he stepped out into the open, much to the awe of several passers by.
Patch: *looks around* *waves a hand, bringing several logs nearer* *write* Good day. Today, I have a story to tell...
As any parent knew, there came a time when their child had grown and needed to forge their own path. Kiri and Gerald had seen that with their own children, their grandchildren, and even their great grandchildren.
She smiled sadly. Gerald would have been glad to see this day. She still missed him.
In a sense the realm was their last child. All too many of their friends had passed on, and it was time for her to relinquish the reins, and put the future into the hands of the children of the new age.
Khovaire no longer needed its parents. She had found herself understanding the first Talia's urge to meddle better, with decades of experience showing her things the younger generations missed. But unlike the ancient Empress, she realized that her duty was to allow the children of the future to find their own path.
If they couldn't handle the future without Empress Kirielle to rule them, she had utterly failed in her duty to Eberron. She didn't think she had. But there was only one way to tell.
It was time for her to get out of the way and let the children of the Sixth Age get on with forging their future without interference. There were many now who had the ability to lead with greater understanding of the new era than she likely possessed. They had grown up in it after all.
Gerald, Kiri, and the Watchmen had laid the foundations of what was to come. Of them all, most likely only Patch would actually see the full fruits of their labor. But for Kiri it had been something worth doing. It was time for her to perform her last duty... to pass on the crown to her successors and step aside for them.
First thing for people working on providing new features should remember:
People hate change for the sake of change. They usually don't mind genuine improvements, but change just because it's change and therefore cool tends to get hackles raised.
Second thing for people working on providing new 'improved' features should remember:
It shouldn't be hard for users to figure out how to turn them off if they don't like them. Just because the programmer thinks he's had a great idea doesn't mean everyone else is going to agree with them.
Time has long since lost all meaning; Tuesday, 12:13 30 minutes before the end.
Generations had come and gone. Several races called this world home at one point or another, each eventually figuring out space travel on their own and departing for parts unknown. The last one had been countless aeons ago, shortly before the sun expanded into a red giant, scorching away the atmosphere and leaving Eberron a burnt out husk, entirely devoid of life, devouring the twelve moons and the ring. *a small circle of the burnt out land has been altered, as a lone figure stands on a bridge that couldn't be there. Beneath it, a stream of water flows within the area, disappearing at the edges* Well, almost entirely... Patch Prime: *sits on the bridge with a glass of alchem and a fishing pole* Today was a special day. Today, the sun would go into the end of it's final phase, and implode into a Black Hole, as the rest had. Today, this branch of the multiverse would collapse back into the Tree. And he'd go with it. Patch: *whistles a jaunty tune as he pulls something out of the water* *write* Oh, hello. I was wondering when you'd get here. Nyarlathotep: *on the other end* Eeeeeeee! *writhes around a bit* Patch: *write* Welcome to your birth and my death, my dearest friend. My most hated enemy. *checks a pocket watch* Just fifteen minutes to go. *frees em* With a wet flop, Nyarlathotep lands on the bridge, before looking around curiously. Patch: *write* In the course of your life, you will get to know me well. You will learn the rules we put in place, otherwise our eternal struggle would have no respite. And you will come to remember me as under myriad faces, we fight. But that is for a different day. *picks up the little abomination and pats it* Today is your birth. Today is my death. They turn, as the sun flashes brightly. It was nearly out of Nickel and Iron to convert. Patch: *write* Hm, my sensors must be getting old. That's only three minutes now...oh well. Happy birthday, you monstrosity from beyond time and space. You'll get your gift earlier in the day. Nyarlathotep: Glorp? Patch: *watches the sun* Because I don't have long left. Not long at all... The sun flickers before them. It had begun it's collapse, as the core destabilized. However, rather than what it normally would do, which was explode into a new nebula, it seemed to shrink past anything even remotely possible. Around it, space seemed to distort as it sank away, and a yawning abyss opened up in space. Patch: *write* Hello for the first time, and for the last time, old friend. Nyarlathotep: *The little abomination seemed to fly off the planet and into the black hole. However, to those watching closely, it becomes apparent that from the reactions and general countenance, it's almost as if it's being kicked out* Patch: *write* And thus, your mouth did open, as if to devour all. And from this is spawned the Destroyer, the Bringer of Death. He looked up, even as the world around him began shredding apart. Patch: *write* Goodbye, Eberron. *picks up the alchem and downs it in one gulp* As he leans back with his drink, his body seems to fall back further and further. It hits the ground as a spectral version just brings the glass back down, before chucking it into the gravitational flow. Throne: *walks up next to him* I liked your first version better, honestly. *offers his hand* Patch's spirit: *write* Can't always go with the good stuff. That was before the multiverse began changing. *gets up* So, what's next? Throne: *a door winks into behind them* The same fate as all your friends, I'm afraid. Patch: ...*shrug* *write* It's about time. I'm tired, and could use a long rest. *opens the door and looks into the Fields of Dolurrh* Goodbye, Throne. *steps through* Throne: Goodbye, Patch. *closes the door behind him* *walks off into his own realm even as the multiverse around this spot collapses in*
Merry Christmas, or should that be Dol Dornmas, to anyone who's still hanging around. Been a lot of fun.
Incidently, most of the smileys are working at long last. The ones which don't apparently need a - added.
First thing for people working on providing new features should remember:
People hate change for the sake of change. They usually don't mind genuine improvements, but change just because it's change and therefore cool tends to get hackles raised.
Second thing for people working on providing new 'improved' features should remember:
It shouldn't be hard for users to figure out how to turn them off if they don't like them. Just because the programmer thinks he's had a great idea doesn't mean everyone else is going to agree with them.
OOC: A moment of inspiriation strikes me several months too late, but oh well
IC:
Year 5396 of the Sixth Age
The young ones always enjoyed story time. The older ones would grin and wait as the younger ones would bombard Patch with questions, only to inevitably wind up with the one who claimed he was making it all up. Bringing out the long since powerless and crystalized body of Shadowspawn as proof was always fun to watch.
But Patch mused to himself, knowing there was one last thing from the dawn if this age that was coming to a close. A meeting delayed between two souls, one that had come and gone many times in the intervening years, the other back for the first time in millenia. A promise they had made then had yet to be fulfilled.
Patch: *grins* It began as two, but now is three. Linked by choice and by fate. I've seen everything, yet the workings of the heart and soul never cease to facinate me.
The park was filled with the sounds of children playing, the upcoming Grand Snuggle drawing crowds from all across the world yet again. The padding of specific footsteps caught his attention, and he turned to greet the Fox Lord and her guest.
Myobu: *waves* Been too long, Patch.
Patch: *write* Indeed.
The face and soul of the young woman next to her had not been seen since Mia's death. With all its parts finally brought together again, the rebuilding had begun. Talia, Miranda, Thelia, Mia... she was all of them and more, but at the same time a whole new being. The chains of fate that had begun with Hakarashi's binding and deepened with the Thorn of Pride had been shattered around her, and her path would be her own from now on.
Fox girl of about 14: This him?
Myobu: *nods* Sure is.
Fox girl: Nice to meet you, Patch. I'm Grace. Auntie said you'd be interested to meet me, though I can't figure out why.
Patch: *shakes her hand* *write* I always like meeting new people.
He and Myobu exchanced glances before he patted Grace's head.
Patch: *write* Feel like taking a walk? I have a few things to check on. I can show you around if you'd like.
Grace: *shrugs* Sure.
Myobu: I'll leave her in your care then, Patch.
With a grin and a nod, Myobu was gone. Patch could tell Grace was still unsure of why she felt at ease around him, but didn't seem to mind being left with him for now.
Patch: *write* I hear you show promise to be the next Priestess, young lady. Tell me, how much do you know about the events leading up to the current Age?
Grace: A bit more than the typical person, I guess. Auntie tells me all kinds of stories.
Patch: *write* Any favorites?
Grace: *thinks for a moment* I love it when she tells me about when she regained her real self during the Apocalypse War. History can be so abstract and distant, but...when she gets that look in her eye I feel a warmth right here. *points to her heart*
Patch: *smiles warmly* *write* I know what you mean. I've known her since she was but a wee pup on Eberron's lap. When she regained herself, it was like having a friend you'd thought long gone suddenly show up on your doorstep.
They were silent for a few moments, Patch enjoying Grace's gaze as they walked. The many millenia had seen the rebirth of many old friends into new lives, and each one was a thrill to be a part of. The circumstances were always different, but there was that undercurrent deep within that always remained true to the soul.
Patch: *write* Will you be joining in any of the contests?
Grace: *tail swishes excitedly* I'm representing my city in the dance contest. Auntie showed me some new moves she says Lady Shemhazi showed her after the Rebirth. :D
Patch: *write* I would very much like to see that.
-----
A pair of adolescent wolves struggled with the controls of their craft, trying to get the amateur attempt at a new Zero Point gravity craft to behave itself on their test run and not doing very well. They were fraternal twins, the male wrestling to keep it steady as the female feverishly tinkered with the inner workings to find the short that was throwing the gyros out of whack.
Ange: Perhaps you should take us a bit lower just in case?
Havel: Assuming my attempts to do so actually result in downward movement, then sure.
-----
Patch and Grace watched the craft limp downwards towards the small lake, Grace cringing when it became clear the path was more out of the hope the water would be more forgiving than the ground than haphazard flailing. As she ran towards the lake, the top of the vehicle popped open and two very surprised looking wolves were tossed out, their decent slowed before landing to a soft splash.
Ange: *coughs* Ok, so we know the emergency auto-eject works, I guess...
Havel: True enough.
They swam over towards the shore, happily noting that the craft had ended up landing awkwardly but mostly in one piece shortly after they'd hit the water. As they approached the shore, Grace arrived to see them.
Grace: Are you both ok?
The pair walked nearer, trying to shake out some of the water as they did so.
Havel: Yeah, thanks.
Ange: Bit of a malfunction, sadly...
It was a few feet from the shore that they got a good look at each other. The three fell silent, staring back and forth as deja vu swept over them. At almost the same time, words floated through their minds that none of them had said, but each knew was meant for them.
I may not know it's you, and you may not know it's me. But we'll meet again. I promise.
Still a ways back, Patch watched as the final restoration of the Sixth Age took place before him. The sunlight through the trees reflected off the trio in just such a way as he swore he could see Thelia, Gerald, and Kiri standing there smiling at one another.
A tear ran down Grace's cheek for reasons she could not understand. Only one thing seemed appropriate to say to the two wolves she had just met yet somehow had known forever.
Grace: I... *grins through the joyful tears* I'm back...
Neither Ange or Havel knew why, but they could only wrap her in a hug.
Both: Welcome home...
"Some men see things as they are and say 'why?' I dream things that never were and say 'why not?'"
Even though it's incredibly late to find, I have found two songs fitting Patch. The first is a song from Aaron Cannith, and the second is the fight between Patch and Adas that eventually led to the Mourning and Patch's silence in a dimension where the humanforged rose first (the girl's the Red Queen). The songs are by the Protomen. www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP2NePWJ2pQ www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJy9rnlPeyM
Not sure how many of you actually still check the thread, but I might as well put this out here for those of you not on the GroovyGamers forums.
I want to get back into this. Not this game, but a new Chaotic Fiction thread. I've been re-reading a bunch of our old stuff and realized exactly how much I've missed it.
Between the end of the semester and moving (eventually), I don't think it'll happen with any haste, but I'm going to put a new campaign together sometime soon.
"Some men see things as they are and say 'why?' I dream things that never were and say 'why not?'"
*waves a hand, bringing several logs nearer* *write* Good day. Today, I have a story to tell...
*The little abomination seemed to fly off the planet and into the black hole. However, to those watching closely, it becomes apparent that from the reactions and general countenance, it's almost as if it's being kicked out*
