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1546

Academy Archives / Welcome to the Exilian Academy - Info and FAQs

« on: June 25, 2012, 10:53:06 PM »

Welcome!

This is the Exilian Academy. Here, people volunteer to teach & tutor small courses on subjects they have particular interest and expertise in, and then people sign up for and do said courses. Courses can be on pretty much anything, from writing to programming to philosophy, and we're always interested in new ideas people have! Please do ask any more questions you have in this thread.

Frequently Asked Questions

So what's so special about this?
The key thing the Academy offers is that it isn't just a bunch of things to read; the course creators will actively tutor their students to produce a final piece of work or be assessed over a few days or weeks. All the courses will be structured differently, so feel free to look around and dip in! The courses are grouped by subject, so if you want to work for one of the larger achievement awards (see below) you'll need to go for courses in a particular group.

How are the courses delivered?
There will be plenty of discussion areas in this part of the forum; these will be used for tutors to post articles which their students can then comment on & discuss. Tutors will also be accessible by personal messaging on the forum, and may also give out instant messaging details for skype or MSN if they want students to be able to contact them that way. There will also be a shared Academy YouTube channel for the tutors to deliver lectures.

What course groupings are offered?
The current list of groupings, with codes, is found in the "Course List and Certification Categories" thread.

What do I get for doing these courses?
Courses will be worth Academy Credits; one credit approximates to a short day's work (though not usually done all at once), so most individual courses will be in the 1-5 region. For each course you do, we'll register you've completed it, and how well you did - the course tutor decides how many of the course's possible credits you get, so a 5 credit course gives a maximum of 5 credits. Credits may be given to the nearest decimal place; the expectation is that a good mark would be around 80%, an exceptional one 90%, with most people averaging around 70%. We can then email out certificates of achievement to you in PDF format.

Additionally, it's possible to work up to something bigger; those who do a lot of courses in a particular subject group can work for the following;
50 credits (Exilian Academic Certificate)
150 (Exilian Advanced Academic Certificate)
450 (Exilian Honours Degree)

These accolades are designed to be difficult to achieve, but are a big possible target for particularly dedicated academy students to work for. There will be certificates available for them, as well as them showing up on the forum award system beneath your profile picture.

Can I create a course?
Yes! Information is available here: http://exilian.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=2092.0

What do I get for running a course?
There are no physical rewards or payments available to lecturers, but we of course do our best to show our appreciation. For any course lecturer who is also a site citizen, running courses will lead to rewards via our "triumph points" system, which is Exilian's system of showing the work of active and useful members. Lecturers who are not site citizens will find it easier to become citizens (a rank which gives full rights to vote on many vital site issues as well as other perks) as a result of the important work they are putting into the academy.

1547

Cepheida / Faction: The Homeworlders

« on: June 24, 2012, 12:54:15 AM »

URALIAN HOMEWORLDERS

“Sometimes my men think about themselves as people. I tell them that this is for others to do, those behind the front line. We think of ourselves as links in the chain, bullets in the gun. We are Uralia, and we will keep our people safe.”

This is the FAQs and info thread for the Homeworlders, a communistic and authoritarian state formed to protect the S'ruba and other allied races from their enemies.

Background:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Homeworld State was originally formed against the threat of the Lexihad, as they scoured the world of Uralia for their lost leader Lexios and tried to forcibly convert its other nations. Realising only a strong and organised military was likely to defeat the fanaticism of their opponents, the leaders of several of the remaining nations formed a War Council, those who had democracies suspending elections until the conflict ended; it is now over a century on, and the war still has not ended and nor has the authoritarian nature of the state. Dissent is dealt with brutally, loyalty rewarded well; the indoctrination of the s'ruba populations is an outrage to some more democratic races but helps keep the whole state running smoothly.

Economically and technologically, the Homeworlders are quite advanced, with strong military structures and an efficient economic system. Serious poverty is not widespread and care for members of society generally run efficiently. The reverse side is the authoritarian government and military overtones of society, with deviation from the regimented lifestyle looked on poorly. The S'ruba are generally well accustomed to such a situation; few other races have managed to survive well within the Homeworld systems though.

Ingame:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

~To be announced~

Faction FAQs:
~None Yet~

1548

Writing, Poems, AARs, and Stories - The Storyteller's Hall / Bletsungia: A Writing Blog

« on: June 23, 2012, 04:18:26 PM »

Right, this will be about progress on my magnum opus of writing and fantasy world design, Bletsungia, and the books and stories therein. 

Feel free to ask questions about the world and what I'm doing with it etc, I'll post updates as I do them!

1549

Cepheida / Faction: The Lexihad

« on: June 23, 2012, 04:13:49 PM »

THE LEXIHAD

“We know only five things. One, that Lexios is God. Two, that there is no God but Lexios. Three, that we are the servants of Lexios. Four, that Lexios is out there. And five… that we will find him.”

The Lexihad are predominantly S'ruba, a short stalk-eyed species from a planet known as Uralia. They exist as a single galactic-scale religious crusade to search for their lost leader or any of his relics. Please ask any questions you want to about them here!

Background:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Lexios was a cult leader from Uralia, the S'ruba home planet. He disappeared after travelling into their native swamps at the age of around forty; his followers believe his divine person is still out there somewhere, and will stop at nothing to find him. They conquered much of the rest of Uralia, prompting the creation of the Uralian Council to oppose them (which later became the nucleus of the strong Uralian Homeworld State). They still fight in Uralia, but have also begun exploring and conquering more and more planets and star systems in their constant drive to find their lost leader. Their drive to find space technology is also part of their work on aiding their search for Lexios and of course spreading His word to all who will listen.

Ingame:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

~To be announced~

Faction FAQs:
~None Yet~

1550

Cepheida / Faction: The Verwynn Empire

« on: June 23, 2012, 02:02:21 PM »

THE VERWYNN EMPIRE

"Lay down your gun, S'ruba, and tell your forces to stand down. I challenge you to single combat, according to the way and honour of my kindred and my Order. Remember this; strength does not lie in technology, or in numbers, or in power. Strong is something you are, not something you have. Are you strong? I think it is time you found out..."

This thread will be for questions and discussion of the Verwynn Empire, the central faction in Cepheida. The huge Verwynn are the rulers and knights of the Empire, with the Gruth acting as scientists, footsoldiers, builders, and diplomats. Please ask any further questions here - making me think of answers will help build up the background for these guys!

Faction details & background:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Gruth were some of the first space travellers. They are hexipeds, walking on four stubby back legs and two longer front arms. The back legs just end in clubbed, wide lumpen feet; the front appendages an individual and complex mass of tough but flexible tentacle-like structures, usually two at the end then two more pairs, though some have as many as five more pairs. They are intelligent and hardworking, but easily led and easily frightened.

The first Gruth cosmonauts explored their own solar system and nearby planets, eventually getting spaceships that travel, then began developing a system to allow them to travel further. The system they devised - projecting wormholes into interstellar space ahead of them, and using this method to move through the void of space at high speeds - has not been deviated from much since. Control of "way stations" for receiving these wormholes is key to control of any solar system, and so they are often key points of contention. The most dangerous phase of course is construction and exploration; attempting to form a wormhole into the middle of an unprepared system and firing an exploratory ship through (and then perhaps later firing the parts and engineers through to allow them to construct a receiving station). Generally the success rate for this is very low; an incredibly experienced crew might be more in the fifty percent region, but losses are common as ships are catapulted into the empty void of space or into a core of solid rock at the centre of a planet. Only systems with wormhole receiving and creating way stations are likely to have significant populations; exploratory ships that can use wormhole jumps exist, but only carry tens of explorers at a time.

The fate of the Gruth was, despite their intelligence, not to be their own. The first solar system they managed to get a wormhole into was one not unlike their own; the planet they reached had a similar gas composition and despite a few illnesses the explorers managed to find the locals. Or rather, the locals found them. Three "locals" fairly soon had the whole four Gruth crews bowing down at their feet, the way station fell six months after that, and four years later with very little difficulty the Gruth homelands had been taken too. The Verwynn had arrived.

The Verwynn would look fairly insectoid to humans due to their armoured back and multifaceted eyes, though their skeleton is largely internal. They are large creatures, reaching a length of up to eight feet from head to abdomen. They have three pairs of wings along their back which provide most of their support, two tough back legs with long large feet and four front limbs each ending with two opposing triangular pads of muscle (think end of an elephant's trunk). Their primary weapon is their bite, though; side-biting jaws akin to those of an ant in giant format are strong enough to crush many smaller animals (as it turned out, a Gruth's brain-carapace included). They are also extremely intelligent and used to getting their own way.

The Verwynn split up into "Orders" to rule their new subjects, who under direction proved to be excellent allies. While a few thousand Gruth escaped with enough materials for new way stations (and thereby, about forty years later, entered the Sruba system where a station was taken by the Lexihad), most co-operated simply because they saw very little reason not to compared with the threat of a huge shouty bity thing being angry with them. Gruth armies mine and patrol different solar systems, with an order of Verwynn controlling, guiding, and aiding in planning their expansion. The Verwynn are not exceptionally harsh masters, though they expect of others the same extreme rigidity of morals and beliefs that they have themselves. They are strongly bound by honour and personal discipline, and Gruth fighting under them are often glad to see their leaders personally hurling themselves into the fray, bound by strict order codes of honour.

As the Verwynn Empire has expanded, new races have been included as mercenaries or subjects. There is little central control, with each order dealing with its own areas as it sees fit; however, the Verwynn Imperators, backed by a powerful Senate of the order commanders, ensure the few orders they do bother giving are obeyed. In return for this level of obedience, the Imperial Army, separate from the Order forces and exploration ships, can lend a crushingly powerful helping hand to any serious combat that occurs.

Ingame:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

~To be announced~

Faction FAQs:
~None Yet~

1551

Announcements! The Town Crier! / ELECTION RESULTS

« on: June 22, 2012, 05:53:27 PM »

The June 2012 elections have recently ended, with the results being as follows.

Turnout in the election for the Spatharioi was 15, being 20% of the Citizenry.
Turnout in all other elections was 14, being 19% of the Citizenry.

BASILEUS ELECTION
Comrade_General (ECHO) 10 votes, 71.4%
Abstain 4 votes, 28.6%

Comrade_General of ECHO is duly elected Basileus.

SEBASTOKRATOR ELECTION
The Khan (ECHO) 5 votes, 35.7%
Dripping D (FIF) 9 votes, 64.3%
Abstain 0 votes

Dripping D of FIF is duly elected Sebastokrator

SPATHARIOS ELECTION (Two Posts)
Nightangel (Independent) 12 votes, 42.9%
Dripping D (FIF) 9 votes, 32.1%
Othko97 (Independent) 5 votes, 17.1%
Abstain 2 votes, 7.1%

Nightangel and Dripping D won the election. Dripping D elected to take the role of Sebastokrator having won that too, and so Nightangel and Othko97 are the duly elected Spatharioi, both independent candidates.

TRIBOUNOS ELECTION (Two Posts)
Ladyhawk (ECHO) 7 votes, 29.2%
Nightangel (Independent) 7 votes, 29.2%
Othko97 (Independent) 7 votes, 29.2%
Death Nade (ECHO) 2 votes, 8.3%
Abstain 1 votes, 4.2%

Ladyhawk, Nightangel, and Othko97 tied the election. However, as Nightangel and Othko are both taking Spatharios roles, Ladyhawk and Death Nade are the elected Tribounoi.

CHARTOPHYLAX ELECTION
Jubal (FIF) 12 votes, 85.7%
Opposing the appointment two votes, 12.43%
Abstain, 0 votes.

Jubal of FIF is the duly elected Chartophylax.

Further information
Results by party:
Independent 31 votes, 34% of votes cast
FIF 30 votes, 33% of votes cast
ECHO 24 votes, 26% of votes cast
Abstentions/oppositions 7 votes, 8% of votes cast


Well done to all successful candidates!

1552

Sketches, Stories, and Steam / Concept/visual art (General Submissions and Concept ideas)

« on: June 20, 2012, 01:43:04 PM »

I'd love as much concept stuff to be produced for this as possible and I can't do any sort of visual art, so any help much appreciated!

The art so far:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Some concept sketches by reggieroberto of musketeers:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Hannel Wekker, as drawn by AnimeWolfGirl (http://animewolfgirl101.deviantart.com):

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Kaia, as drawn by MultiYoungful (http://multiyoungful.deviantart.com/):

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Charlotte Stanley, by Annie Reagan:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Some good links to pics and stuff for concepts pulled from different bits of the web:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

http://www.drgeorgepc.com/Turtle.html <- This 1776 submarine is the one being built in the Chaltarian workshop
http://www.leonardo-da-vinci-biography.com/images/da-vinci-invention-tank.jpg <- Da Vinci's tank design, the Trammech is very based on this.
http://www.leonardo-da-vinci-biography.com/leonardo-da-vinci-inventions.html <- Other Da Vinci inventions
http://images.wikia.com/deadliestfiction/images/6/63/Minutemen.jpg <- This rather dull-looking picture of some minutemen shows roughly how I imagine the Chaltarian uniform, except that the Chaltarians have colours by region (with the iconic one being russet brown for Flintshire).

The Union uniform would be a little more like that of the British, except that they use cylindrical caps with a brim to the front rather than Tricornes, and the uniform is dark blue and black. I'll work out the uniforms of other nations in the near future.

1553

Sketches, Stories, and Steam / Guns, Swords and Steam: The Story

« on: June 20, 2012, 01:27:18 PM »

This is the unfinished story for which I built a lot of the background, it was written on a by-episode basis for the A Call To Arms e-zine. Please note that several bits of background have changed since I wrote this; the current setting has fewer overt steampunk bits, the properties of Vampirism have changed too.


PART ONE

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Captain Hannel Wekker surveyed the narrow valley that was laid out before him. A few steaming piles of battered iron scrap lay around the sides, a few more blue-uniformed corpses were piled along the valley floor. Other than that, the landscape hadn’t much changed since dusk yesterday. Or last week, for that matter. Ten days now they’d been coming. All day, every day. Blue coated soldiers, heavy dull metal cannon, and machines. Some tried to walk, others tried to drive, all of them were lying in twisted wrecks along Wekker’s valley. That said, the russet-coated defenders hadn’t fared well either.

“How many have we got left? Verton?”

“Well… we lost Makks, Lopprer, and Dainer on the left gun post – got hit by a steam shell. Then in terms of infantry we’re down about fifteen – basic infantry is, not counting the diehards…”

“A number! I. Need. A. God. Damned. NUMBER!”

“Twenty.”

“What! We had sixty this morning!”

“Twenty now, sir.”

“Dear gods. Twenty?”

A thought occurred to the Captain as he looked at his poor quivering subordinate.

“So how the hell did you survive? I’ve lost forty of the best defenders of Chaltary on this field, and I’m left with you. You, of all people.”

“Well sir, I was put in charge of that new steam-gun.”

“The steam cannon? The one in the west turret?”

“Yessir.”

“Gods, who the hell told you to man that thing? It needed someone who can actually shoot straight! I’ll kill them! Morons!”

“Um, no need sir. You see, the shell-firer already did.”

Wekker just stared at the hapless private. He couldn’t afford to lose good men; the enemy didn’t give a damn about the fact that they’d lost a thousand of their men and several cannon, not to mention eight or nine great trammechs – giant armoured machines of war powered by great steam-driven engines - that had pummelled away with shell-firers and steam cannon as they advanced up the valley. The loss of the five hundred of Wekker’s unit, though, would be a great stretch on the already battered army defending the mountain passes that protected Chaltary from its great neighbour to the North.

“So how did you survive? That turret looks somewhat destroyed to me.”

“Ah, well I wasn’t in it at the time sir.”

“Where WERE you at the time, private?”

“Well I saw the gun, sir. And it was a very good gun, what with all the steam devices and everything.”

“Indeed, and?”

“Well when the trammech started coming toward the turret, I thought; ‘Wouldn’t it be an awful shame if this gun were to get blown up? That would be a very bad thing, I’m sure.’ So I rescued it, sir.”

“Meaning you…”

“Picked it up, got out of the tower and hid behind that wall over yonder sir.”

“Verton…”

“Sir?”

The captain put his head in his hands.

“I’d shoot you if I thought there was anything intelligent to shoot. Get out, you blithering idiot.”

It was always like this. You saw ninety bold, bright faces of young bearded men ready to fight and die for their country, you told them how to win the battle, they did it and they died for it. The other ten men in the regiment would be the ones who lived, though. Men like Verton, who had he led a regiment of the Duke of Flintshire’s own guards would have hidden them behind a house to avoid them getting shot. Men like young Nummen, who had once defeated an ambush by setting up a tripwire in the wrong place, or Karter, a man who couldn’t spell “retreat” and was never likely to – or “orders”, “commands” or “strategy” for that matter – but somehow managed to survive simply by being too hard-bitten, maniacal, and leathery to actually die. The Mountain Diehards, they called them. Crazy bastards, cowards, idiots even, but when every other soldier was bleeding on the hillsides they’d still bloody well be there.

Wekker wasn’t sure if they would for much longer, though.


“Verton! Get everyone back up here!”

“Yessir!”

The captain watched the fast retreating figure, and sighed. They didn’t have a hope in seven hells if the enemy attacked again. His command post, a battered old Union trammech that had been hauled up to the end of the valley where it could guard the entrance of the narrow Pass of Vultures, had been hit several times in the fighting. He felt a little glow of pride that the extra armour cladding had held. Never scrap ANYTHING on a battlefield, old Sergeant Harkel had once said to him. He hadn’t been wrong.

As he strode out of the post to the two lines of ragged men he had left to him, he noticed a lone rider appearing over a rise in the depths of the narrow gulch. Another horseman followed, and another, until fifty or so men were approaching. The men were riding fast though not in a panicked way, and as they neared he could make out that they did not all seem to be soldiers. Most of them almost certainly were, wearing the russet coats of Flintshire men just as his own troops did. However, a few other figures looked more unusual. The captain of the cavalry wore a tricorne hat, and appeared to be a captain like himself (though, as a cavalry officer, a superior one for rank and class). With him rode a young man in a long white coat; he wore a sword and pistol, but did not seem to be a soldier. Accompanying this second was a third strange figure, the first who had broken clear of the ridge. He wore black, with a top hat that seemed strangely incongruous on a battlefield. Nevertheless, the two pistols he carried looked like business.

“Men, stand to attention!”

As Wekker vainly tried to make his remaining troops form something vaguely ordered, the men rode up to him. He finally recognised the captain with a start – no captain was this, though. Nicholas Von Wennedon, field marshal of the Chaltarian northern army, looked down at the hard-bitten captain who he had entrusted with the defence of the pass. Both men were thanking any god that might be listening that he hadn’t failed.

“Wekker, good news! I’ve brought some reinforcements for the valley.”

“If there’s good news, sir, does that mean there’s bad news?”

“There’s… unexpected news, put it that way. This fellow is Nathaniel, the third son of the Earl of Lynshire. He and his man can explain better than I.”

“The only place I can invite you to is the command post, sir. The fort…”

The four men looked down at where a wooden fort had once stood. The trammechs had reduced it to smoking timbers.

“Very well, Wekker. Lead on.”


Once they were inside the fort, the man in the dark coat took out a map and unrolled it across the small table. It showed all the land from the Union’s northern border and the rebel state there right down past its southern borders with Chaltary, then south still across Jamesland and to the Green Coast.

“This map,” began Nathanial Lynarm, “shows the world as we know it. Our little country sandwiched between Jamesland and the Union, the states of the green coast, all this you know. And, as you know, the Union would like the whole of this map coloured blue.”

Wondering where this was leading, Wekker leaned in towards the map. The Union were aggressive? That was no news, surely…

“The assault tactics of the Union have halted at their current borders. The difficult terrain off the plains stops their great trammechs and cannon being as effective, and prevents their cavalry manoeuvring.”

“And?”

“And, Captain Wekker, they are trying… different methods. Vampires – almost certainly coming as spies – have been seen in Lynn and Murrod. They’re trying to drive a political wedge between their enemies in order to defeat them, knowing they can’t win on the battlefield. And make no mistake, we can’t just retreat to Jamesland. If we lose the Violl River and the Russetcoat Passes, there’s nowhere their armies can be halted. The speed they moved thirty years ago when they conquered northern Chaltary… they could be in Jamestown in three weeks, even right through Jamesland and to Rhienne in a couple of months. And there’s no way without a natural defence that the sort of armaments and numbers they have can be beaten back.”

“So… how does this affect me, beyond being a pep talk about how I should defend this pass?”

“First incorrect assumption there, Wekker, is that I’m going to leave you defending this pass.” The Field marshal finally took his commanding role in the conversation. He stood and looked Hannel Wekker – who was already beginning to stutter at him – firmly in the eye.

“But… I’m being demoted?”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Von Wennedon smiled grimly. “I’ve been asked to provide someone for a little spying work of our own. We need men inside the Union who can unravel who their spies are – and know what their tactics are and how that affects us. And, may I say, you’re the best captain for tactics I’ve got.”

“I can’t leave the pass! We need it defended, surely?”

“Hannel, you’re a good captain. But you’re needed more elsewhere. You’d have been “needed” as a marshal or batallion leader by now if it wasn’t for the fact that the bloody nobles won’t let me promote commoners above the captaincy.”

Nathaniel bridled a bit at the slight on his class, and pursed his lips – but held his tongue, the general’s commanding aura keeping him in line. Wekker himself looked balefully at the nobleman.

“I don’t have a choice, do I sir?”

“There’s always a choice.” The black-coated man looked out from under his tall hat. The Captain was surprised to see that he had a freckled face and short but curly hair, contrary to the picture of a dark stranger one might have imagined.

“Simple choice,” he said, twirling a pistol round one finger, “You come, or I make you come.” He pointed the gun at Wekker.

“Don’t threaten my men, Pearson!” a dangerous light flashed in the Field Marshal’s eyes as he watched the manservant hurriedly lower the weapon.

“Don’t worry sir. I'm sure this... fellow... is just translating into language I can understand." He gave a salute, ever so slightly mocking. Nathaniel strode out the door and Pearson beckoned to Wekker to follow. Hannel gave his commander a wry smile. "By your leave…?”

Von Wennedon nodded.

And it was the nod, they said afterwards, that started everything that was to come.

PART TWO

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A young man in a white coat - on a white horse, no less - rode up to the crest of a high, pine-forested ridge. In this place, the trees had been cleared to make a trackway for men and horses, and so a rider could look down into the valley below. The river, deep and fast-flowing, normally slashed down the centre of its valley. Here, though, it twisted and meandered, battering in at steep valley cliffs, then almost doubling back to sweep round and cut off a wide arc before coming back in; in this way it cut off a moderately sized area, with steep cliffs and jagged mountains to the back and the river curving round the front. The man in the white coat - had he not seen the sight many times before - would have been impressed by the natural defences of the place - and the small and bustling city that lay there, protected from the world.

"Murrod's probably grown since you were last here, Captain. More and more we're getting little villages springing up on the outward roads."

“It’s the capital and it’s safe; I wouldn’t expect anything less.” A second man spurred a chestnut stallion up to the ridge and looked down at the bizarre mix of stone, wood, and cracking plaster that, cobbled together in its own ramshackle but resilient way, made up the capital city of Chaltary.

“Nevertheless. Have you been into the Ducal quarter much?”

“Once, when I was sworn as a Captain. Other than that they don’t let the likes of me in there, as you probably well know.”

“I know – though I don’t like it as a system. The total shutting out of ordinary people really isn’t healthy for a lot of the nobles.”

Captain Wekker raised an eyebrow. “You talk about the nobles as if you aren’t one, yet you’re – you’re the son of the Duke of Lynshire! You’re Nathaniel, Viscount Von Tamberdall, for heaven’s sake.”

“Politics is a very mixed thing in Chaltary. The nobility is as spilt as the political ramblings of the commoners; the militarists, reformists and theocratists are all backed by different nobles.”

“The what-ists? Sorry, your worship. Forgive me, I’m no politician.”

At that, a third man – in black, with a tall hat and riding a small dark horse – emerged up the forest path, coming from the way they were facing. He beckoned to them to follow him, and from the vista that had shown them the valley they plunged back into the dark pinewood trackways.

“You may not be a politician now, Wekker, but by all the russet-coats in Chaltary you’ll need to become one. Spying isn’t just about sneaking round the enemy; or at least, not just the enemy you’re used to.”

“What other enemy is there? We only have two damn borders; Jamesland can’t attack us for fear the Union will murder them all, and the Union can’t seem to stop attacking us. Foreign policy is really rather simple as far as our troops are concerned.”

Nathaniel laughed darkly. “There are enemies to your war within as well as without. The Polismoot and the Council of State are both utterly riven with divisions and bickering. In general, the balance is maintained; we keep the military strong enough without it taking over, the people get a poor deal but not quite poor enough to cause revolts, and the church is happy enough not to cause a civil war without us actually giving much power to it.”

“But people might upset that balance?”

“Oh, yes…”


Nathaniel trailed off mid-sentence. “Hannel, dismount.”

The soldier glanced around him as he slid of the horse’s back. Something wasn’t right. He could not see at all far into the murky depths of the woods, but the hairs on the back of his neck were creeping up; a veteran’s instinct. He would have felt slightly shamed that Von Tamberdall had noticed something was wrong first, had he not been intently focused on his surroundings.

The crack of a twig, and Nathaniel spun round, gazing into the gloom.

“Who’s there? Who are you?”

“Nathaniel! Down!”

Captain Wekker leapt across, grabbing the viscount by his lapels and hauling them both rolling down the track. The horse that Von Tamberdall had been standing next to had a knife firmly embedded in one eye, and slumped to the floor. Wekker’s horse bolted.

Their adversary – or were there adversaries? – still remained hidden, and the two men readied what weaponry they had; Nathaniel a sabre and pistol, his companion the stout bayonet of a soldier. Glancing down the track, Hannel couldn’t see Pearson, their black-clad guide. Had he already been taken or killed?

“I commend you on your… resourcefulness, Captain.” A voice like a knife, smooth but cutting, echoed out of the depths of the forest. “It is a pity there are not more men like you capable of serving my cause; no matter, we make up for it.”

“Vampire.”

The viscount nodded. He had gone pale; the fear of the Other Kindred was strong across Chaltary – particularly among those who had not fought them before. Vampires made up a good half of the statesmen, spies, commanders, engineers, and diplomats that were the real brains of the union – with its vast numbers of slaves, huge ironworks, and impossibly large manpower being the body. The Other Kindred, as they preferred to be known, were stronger, faster, and quicker thinking than any ordinary human. Their powers of healing were such that you couldn’t be sure a rifle would stop one, let alone kill it. That was why they were so hated; vampirism just wasn’t quite fair.

“You are, of course, surrounded. Nevertheless, your antics at the Pine Gulch last summer were amusing, Wekker. You showed that idiot Darroux quite well.”

That was one thing, thought Hannel, which the Vampires hadn’t got rid of; just as human strength and skill were increased, so too was the human propensity towards rivalry and backstabbing.

“And for that, I think I’ll give you a few seconds’ chance this time. As much as I’m not one to play with my food… see that tree down there? I think I should like to see you run.”

A sort of odd silence governed the dark trackway for a moment as the two men stood up. At last, too, their attackers came into view. Not big or burly men, any of them; sharp-featured and well trained, though. Four on either side of the two travellers.

Finally, the vampire stepped out. He was pale – so pale that even in the darkness his face barely looked shadowed – and he had wide eyes with hair of a sort of pallid red. Looking at him, you could see why the Other Kindred’s state was a curse, however much they affected pleasure in their skills and power. It was like watching a fire without a spark; there was no magic in him, or lust or joy. Even true malice was probably beyond him… he would kill you, true, but only for the intellectual or physical challenge.

“Well? I think I told you to run, Wekker.”


The captain gritted his teeth. He would not – his pride told him he could not – run for this monster. He was a soldier of Chaltary, and by the Gods he’d die that way. The silence grew louder and louder. The stares sharper. No-one moved.

Then, quite suddenly, everything happened. The crack of gunpowder eachoed through the woods, and the four men to Wekker’s right dropped down, clutching arms and chests that were already beginning to stain with blood. The Vampire looked around quickly, and then – realising far before his men did that whatever had killed four men that suddenly would not hesitate to do the same again – pulled his cloak around him and ran silently into the shadows once more.

His four remaining minions were hurriedly picking up their guns, but Wekker was too fast. Swinging his bayonet, he tore a red gash across the throat of the first before stepping forward to stab the second firmly in the gut. Nathaniel, startled and no hardened warrior, only looked on as the captain pulled his weapon back, ramming the butt of the gun into a man who had tried to attack him from behind. Finally, seeing the last man coming towards him, he pulled his pistol – but too late.

The troopers may not have been a match for a veteran like Wekker, but Nathaniel’s fencing and pistol-shooting classes had never prepared him for a real fight. In a second, the man had swung a heavy cavalry sabre, knocking the gold-encrusted gun onto the floor. He raised the weapon above his head, over the cowering man; Wekker was running, but he would surely not get there before his death. Then Nathaniel noticed something odd about his attacker’s chest; it had a knife-blade poking through the ribs. As he rolled aside and the man slumped forward, he saw a familiar freckled face peering down from beneath a black top hat. The man nonchalantly carried a duck-foot pistol in the other hand; the four splayed barrels, originally used for captains faced with mutiny at sea (and now illegal in ninety percent of urban areas this side of the Alpennine mountains), looking strangely quiet considering that he had just killed four men with them.

“Pearson!”

The small, dangerous man looked between his two charges.

“Let’s get to the city.”

1554

Guns, Swords, and Steam / GS&S: Intro and FAQs

« on: June 17, 2012, 01:00:01 PM »

This will include basic info and frequently asked questions.

GENERAL INFORMATION

What is all this about, then?
Guns, Swords, and Steam is a setting I've been working on for a long time. Its primary manifestation is twofold; in an episodic story I've been writing about it, and as a set of tabletop dice-based RPG rules designed around the world. The basic theme is clockpunk, steampunk and gothic inspired; it's a world of vampires, steam tanks, and hardy footsoldiers slogging it out. There are plenty of twists, though; other magical creatures are included, and a magic system primarily based around illusions and mind tricks is also worth watching out for.

THE BACKGROUND

How does magic work in GS&S?
Essentially magic comes in two linked forms, illusion and summoning. Magic can't directly manipulate the physical world; it's essentially a form of communicating with the "astral" - a sort of secondary universe that brushes up close to our own and supplies a lot of the necessaries for conciousness. Summoning basically opens/finds a hole between the universes big enough for some raw conciousness to get through and imbue physical forms with a thinking mind for a time. Illusion uses the astral universe as a shortcut straight into someone else's (or lots of other people's) head or heads, allowing the manipulation of their thought processes.

Will there be technology X...?
- Airships?
> Certainly not common or in frequent use, but probable yes to occasional and somewhat dysfunctional ones being constructed.
- Cyborgs/Robots?
> Confirmed no.
- Hovercrafts?
> Probable no, though I can't say I've looked in every inventor's workshop to check!
- Rifles?
> Confirmed yes, though muskets are still far more common and rifles are hard to produce.
- Spaceships?
> Confirmed no.
- Steampunk body modifications?
> Maybe relatively low-tech ones, I can imagine some barber-surgeons might get fairly experimental at times - it'd certainly be a risky and unusual process.
- Steam-guns?
> Confirmed yes, but they're not nearly as efficient as a modern machine gun and are not seen on most battlefields - tactics still look more like those of the early C18th than the first world war.
- Steam tanks?
> Confirmed yes - they look very much like Da Vinci's tank design, and are known as "Trammechs".
- Submarines?
> Confirmed yes, but they're rare pieces of cutting edge technology. And may or may not run on pedal power.

1555

Cepheida / What is Cepheida? (FAQs)

« on: June 16, 2012, 04:03:02 PM »

This thread will have the basic explanations of what this project is about and any other FAQs that need answering.

So what is this?
Cepheida is a project I started with a "World Building" series of articles on A Call To Arms. The aim has been to develop a setting - and, later, a skirmish game - that is in a sci-fi setting but doesn't have the grimdark, militarised feel of a game like Warhammer 40,000 and most other science fiction games. It's a bit more tongue-in-cheek and light hearted, and focusses on the exploration and planet-hopping side of sci-fi. There's plenty of fighting too of course, but the primary aim of most races isn't genocide. And there are cool aliens.

Tell me more about the setting...
It's set in a star cluster or small galaxy, somewhere out there in the far future. Humans, unlike in most settings, are not the civilising force in Cepheida; they're generally seen as thuggish but useful barbarians from some war-torn fringe worlds. The huge, armoured creatures known as Verwynn have built a major Empire across the centre of the cluster, with their four-legged Gruth servants being just the largest amongst a whole host of other subject races. The other major race is the S'ruba, classic eyes-on-stalks aliens with hoof-like feet. They account for three of the other forces. One is the Homeworlders, a benevolent but communistic state that resists the Verwynn and keeps order in the original S'ruba system but is expanding rapidly in the search for resources. There is also the Lexihad, a bizarre religious cult determined to find their lost leader by searching every planet in existence until he returns to them, and the anarchically democratic rebels who call themselves the Free S'ruba. The self-building Tangalak cyborgs and the trading Hanstellartic League are also trying to expand their reach over the cluster, giving quite a diverse array of outlooks, viewpoints, and goals for the different factions!

You mentioned a game?
I'm working on a set of skirmish game rules to go with the world. Your different alien and mercenary bands will be going out to explore different randomly generated planets, with different aims (conquest, trade posts, killing off the other players, etc etc). You'll be able to play individual fights, but the main focus is on having a big planet-hopping campaign where players roam a stellar map and seek to fulfil their goals and defeat both native aliens and other player groups who oppose them. Alien factions also mean there'll be diversity in fights for the players, as each player will get to control native forces that fight against the other player ships and crews.

1556

Arts, Crafts, Music & Drama - The Artisans' Guilds / Science songwriting?

« on: June 06, 2012, 01:47:51 PM »

In case anyone's interested, just got forwarded this link:

http://sociablephysics.wordpress.com/

It's only for 18 or under people sadly, basically just a "write a cool sciencey song" competition, thought I'd post it in case anyone was interested.

1557

General Chatter - The Boozer / Exam Moaning Thread!

« on: May 28, 2012, 10:09:21 PM »

A thread for me and anyone else doing exams to moan about exams! Yay!

Maths is improving a bit, but I haven't really started on History properly. Ack. 

1558

Stories and AARs / The Sixth Finger

« on: May 28, 2012, 09:59:19 PM »

A slightly comical and random twist on a story or two you'll all already know. Came up with the idea and decided to write it.

The Sixth Finger

The cybernetic hand flexed, powerful but yet strange in the artificial smoothness of its movements. The husky, harsh rasps of breath were all that could be heard in the quiet of the control room, telling the figure whose hand it was that he was still alive. Whatever alive meant nowadays. There wasn't much challenge left in the job, or sacred task, or whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. Construction projects behind schedule, generals and admirals bungling around trying to squash pathetic attempts at resistance. He suspected he could have tackled a lot of the recent wars on his own. Without backup.

He looked down again through the red-tinted lenses of his dark eyes. Six. Had that just been a mistake on the part of the Emperor? The six-fingered cyborg stood and walked over to the screens that showed him a read-out of what was going on across his space station. A sith lord, the most powerful ever perhaps, and here he was sitting looking at screens that were reminiscent of an old gaming console. That was galactic progress for you. Darth Vader would have snorted, if he had still owned a functional nose.

In the old days, it had almost been fun, enforcing the new Galactic Empire. Tortured, he had endlessly scoured the galaxy, defeating all who came before him in deathly rages, utterly devoted to the Dark Side of the force. And then came the second wave, the sons or fathers who sought him out - him, personally - bearing a grudge. But they were amateurs. They had a little grief, a little fear, but it deserted them too fast and a red flash of light ended their quest. The six-fingered man, the dark sith lord, the enforcer, became so feared it was rumoured he was invincible. Eventually, slowly but surely, the good ones died out, and thereafter the stormtroopers shot most potential assassing. And then in the end they had stopped coming altogether.

A light flickered on the monitor. Intruder alert. It would have been of interest, but the damn security systems on this thing were still incomplete and kept playing up. Three figures, apparently. Probably stormtroopers whose security keys had malfunctioned.

Tapping fingers on the keyboard, Vader asked the station to give him readouts on the people. One very weak, not much life, helped along by one big and strong, with another normal figure accompanying them. Odd. Could it be intruders for real this time? Some old nemesis, a remnant of the jedi order? One of the rebel captains on a suicide mission? He glanced down at his dormant lightsaber, getting half hopeful. In fact, he almost let himself think that it might be master Yoda, or Ben Kenobi, the last missing Jedi masters. Ben would be old now... perhaps the weak figure was him?

He took note of their coordinates within the Death Star, and strode towards an elevator. He was swiftly transported to their level, and glanced around, almost nonchalant in his mastery of the known universe. A dying soldier slumped by the wall, gasping something about a giant and a fighter. Interesting. Or at least, almost interesting.

A trail of dead stormtroopers led around the level, the occasional broken blast door. Drat. Further behind schedule on building this thing.

Linking up to a communications channel from his helmet seconds before the intruders blew it, he heard the first crackle of a conversation.

"Level... next... take West... princess..."

Rescuing a prisoner. So that was it. Was it Leia, the girl from Alderaan? He barely bothered to remember the names of prisoners. Either they were pleading or dead, generally. She could have been called Emma, or K'duri, or Buttercup for all he cared. He sighed, the noise jarring with the stillness and only interrupted by the clank as a dead stormtrooper's hand finaly relaxed and let the gun it had vainly held clang onto the metal floor.

He found the monitor room for the level, and pulled some of the broken cables together momentarily with the force. Gone were the days when force chokes were all the rage, he reflected; he also realised what a revolutionary career he might have had in the electronics business. It seemed a little late to consider retraining at this point in his career, however. The screens flickered back to life; the party had split up, with two heading for the cells, and one... for him. Interesting. Perhaps two were on a mission and one was on a vendetta? He could but hope.

His boots thudded down the corridor, in perfect time with the bionic clocks that were built into his very life support systems. And then, black cloak swirling in suitably dramatic fashion, he saw his opponent. And his shoulders slumped. Pathetic. Not even a decent suit of body armour.

The man had ragged hair, and a moustache. His attire spoke of some far-off planet, lost to time, with a battered brown jacket and some sort of hand weapon holder at his belt. He could have been any of the feeble types who had come hunting a six fingered man before and failed. Except even worse. And he'd pretty much destroyed an otherwise moderately complete level of the ship, and he didn't have enough electricians as it was. It would be a short fight; he'd slash a few times, make a couple of blocks, and then probably decapitate his enemy. Boring. Thoroughly boring. Life is not fair to brutal galactic dictators.

The man looked up, seeing the dark-robed figure loom in front of him. He had been hunting for a six-fingered man for a long time, Vader realised, sensing his foe's emotions. His skin bore an impression of having once been tanned, but it had grown pale in colder climes since. And then, through the lenses of his face-mask, Vader looked into the eyes of the man. And there he saw something that made him both glad and unsettled. The eyes were cold. This one had steel in him.

Would it actually be a challenge? The corridor was lit bright with the red glow of the sith lord's lightsaber as it flashed into action. Tensing, waiting for the fight to come, he looked at his opponent again. A bright silver blade appeared in his foe's hand, and the stranger took a couple of practise swipes, flicking his wrist expertly with the blade. This one had studied, too. How strange. How had he come here? What of the things Vader had done riled him so? The questions would probably never be answered.

The stranger then spoke - softly, in a voice that had the melodic sound of a warm homeland, but with an edge to it. His eyes flickered with a heatless fire, and he nodded to his opponent with a small smile, almost bowing, but holding his weapon at the ready. He only spoke one sentence, with the air of one who has been waiting to say it all their life.

"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

1559

History, Science, and Interesting Information - The Great Library / Elon Musk - Visionary, Madman, or both?

« on: May 19, 2012, 12:37:07 PM »

Okay, this is the news that SpaceX, an American company, is getting closer to being able to claim a contract for haulage to the ISS. Elon Musk, the company's CEO, is claiming that over the next few years (perhaps even by 2014/15) SpaceX will be able to get haulage costs to orbit down to $1000 per pound of payload lifted. That's two orders of magnitude lower than at present, an incredibly impressive claim. It gets better, though; apparently going to Mars could be achieved for half a million dollars within twenty years. SpaceX hasn't demonstrated any of this yet of course, so the real question is how feasible their plans are...

Here's an article on the company including an interview with Musk that's well worth a listen:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-17439490

1560

Finished/Dead Mafias and RPGs / If it looks like a mafia and sounds like a mafia (Day One!)

« on: May 18, 2012, 09:42:33 PM »

Okay, I want to run some really simple mafia games as well as our big convoluted epics, at the same time. These will be smaller, faster paced, with simple roles only.

I'm starting with a five player only game, of the setup called Dethy. Four town players are cops - one is sane, one is insane (always gets the wrong result), one is naive (always shows up as good), one is paranoid (always shows up bad). Then there's one mafia with a nightkill trying to blend in and kill off the cops. I'm thinking two or three days only per phase, so please if you sign up ensure you'll be active.

Players:
Nightangel
The Khan
Phoenixguard
Comrade_General
Dripping D