Jorick
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My Minecraft name thing is Jorick.
Sole said
Do not tell predictions to the author because they might actually use them. xD
The other day, Elly and I were talking and I said something about what I thought was going to happen with Zed and she went "I think that it'll probably go the opposite." You don't think, woman. You know. You know because you're gonna write it that way.
Nahhhh, the thing I'm thinking was based on hints already put in the story, not just random conjecture. I was right or I was wrong regardless of what Elendra's plans actually were.
Chapter 8 is good. All the different gods with scenes back to back was neat, and I liked seeing all their differing motivations and such.
Also, I'm pretty fucking sure one of my predictions that I told you on Skype is true, the one about Zed. I was about 75% sure, now it's more like 99% sure. Shit is gonna go down in the next chapter. :D
Also, I'm pretty fucking sure one of my predictions that I told you on Skype is true, the one about Zed. I was about 75% sure, now it's more like 99% sure. Shit is gonna go down in the next chapter. :D
Clearly I should be the big bad evil guy of the story, Toellner should be my right hand man, Elendra should be the evil femme fatale who simultaneously arouses and terrifies the heroes, and Nat should be the recurring useless mook who is more of annoyance than an actual threat to the protagonists.
The blow to his left arm was exquisitely painful, but not enough to put Kasim out of action. He didn't need his left arm to use the short sword anyway, so it wasn't an immediate problem. It was rather disappointing that his arrow had only knocked the orc's helm off, but it wasn't a total loss. That blood creeping toward his enemy's eyes would be Kasim's best chance to deal with this fight quickly, to be the first to finish off his opponent and be able to claim the glory of being the best combatant in their little group.
As the orc remarked on the fight as glorious, Kasim circled around to his shield side and made a quick slash at his enemy's leg. It had little force behind it, just meant to harass and draw a little blood if the blade's tip made contact. He kept on circling around as soon as he swung, moving to stay on the outside of the orc's axe range, ready to move quickly if the big bastard did anything crazy or if he saw an opening. Kasim was waiting for that blood to get in his enemy's eyes, for the orc to get blinded and distracted, at which point he'd rush in and go for the neck to end the fight in one blow, if possible.
Upon finding her efforts largely futile, just one of the militia snapping out of their fearful stupor, Zin felt her own panic gripping her once more. She felt obligated to help the man she'd sent into battle though, and almost started to make more illusory fire to scare the spider to distraction, but she hesitated long enough to see something to make it even better. A small barrel went rolling down past the spider, and flames chased it.
Zin yelled out to warn the militiaman, since the voice yelling about minding flames hadn't been specific enough for her liking. "Watch out for the barrel!" She drew on her magic to try to make illusion flames spring up in front of the spider, around the militiaman, flames about a foot high in a curve about five feet long in total to scare it and herd it back and closer to the exploding barrel. The soldier would feel no pain or heat from the fake flames, but hopeful the spider would flee them on instinct and run right into the other threat and leave itself open for an attack from behind as well. The only problem was that this level of flame conjuring was something she had not mastered, so she shouldn't be sure it would actually work. Zin concentrated as hard as she could on making the spell work, ignoring the other fighting going on around her for the moment.
My name is Jorick and I want to be an antagonist. 
"Alright, fuck this, we're getting out of here!" Nathaniel drew his pistol and flipped off the safety, knowing that his rifle was probably spent and lacking confidence in his ability to reload it quickly enough to matter. He fired a few quick shots at the wolf creature eying them from atop the APC, then motioned for the biologist to follow him. "Run!" Nathaniel led the way, hoping Daniel would provide rear cover for them.
He heard Brucey's plan through his radio and decided it was their best bet, and he added his own piece for the squad to here. "Coming through with the VIP, cover us!" Nathaniel angled around the mech's flame, running to try to get back behind Brucey and make use of his covering inferno. He spotted the new arrivals as well, which he hadn't quite realized were there before now, and figured they'd be helpful too. Nathaniel held his pistol at the ready as he ran for the relative safety of his fellows, hoping he could react fast enough to anything that came his way and that a few pistol rounds would be enough to make it back off.
The wedding was a tiresome affair for Eli, though that was nothing new. He could often be found sitting quietly by himself among crowds and revelry, and that was how he preferred it, but that had been hard to achieve at this royal wedding. Eli was not one for expressive jubilation, or expressive anything for that matter, so he tended to drift toward the edges of activity to claim a relatively calm and quiet space for himself. Normally he might have succeeded and found a refuge among his fellow Midlanders, but being something like a guest of honor, invited to fight in the final event of the tournament, brought plenty of attention his way. Eli supposed he should get used to this sort of thing, since regardless of winning or losing on the morrow the name Eli the Fearsome would probably spread throughout the people of Albany. Unless he died, of course, in which case he would have no need to fret about dealing with the attentions of admirers or detractors.
Both types of attention came his way that night, mainly the latter. Nobody knew who Eli would be fighting, but the lords of Albany made many snide remarks about how he was sure to lose against the king's chosen champion. They apparently viewed it as some show to prove the might of their homeland against foreigners, wherein the champion of Albany would defeat the champion of the Land of a Thousand Kings and prove once and for all which was the greater land. Eli was very amused by those implications. Judging from the indifference or outright coldness he received from most of the other Midland visitors, they did not view him as their representative in any way. A couple had implied that he was some kind of traitor since he fought for various lords of Albany, never mind the fact that he'd never turned his sword against his homeland. It was all very tedious and draining, but he responded to all of them with courtesy nonetheless.
Eli sat at the edge of the largest pocket of Midlanders, at the side of the room bur near to the dais as befit the higher stature of those making up this clump, and felt the position was very suiting. He was on the border between his homeland and Albany, a presence in both but truly part of neither. He was left alone for the moment, all those who wanted to wish him ill for tomorrow's fight apparently having already done so, and he looked round the room without any goal in mind, just seeing what was happening and keeping an eye on the goings on. Amidst this aimless watching, Eli saw a particular set of eyes turn his way a few times, seemingly directly and only at him before looking away. That struck him as passing strange. He had made his courtesies to the king earlier, thanking him for the honor of the invitation, and he had extended that to the queen as well. Why in the world would she be looking at him? Did she think his earlier address had been rude since he did not speak to her directly, only as a secondary inclusion in what he said to King Pompey? Did she view him as some kind of foreign threat that needed to be watched? There was really only one way to find out.
After making his way through the various tables and standing people, Eli stood at the base of the dais. He was not nearly so presumptuous as to climb the steps without leave, so he bowed to her from where he was. His left hand naturally went to his hip to grasp his sword hilt, the traditional warrior's bow, but it closed on empty air; he had left his sword behind and went to the wedding unarmed, as doing otherwise would have been seen as an insult or perhaps a threat. As he stood straight he put on the slight smile he used for diplomatic endeavors, squinting his eyes just a bit to make the pleasure look genuine. He'd already decided to act as if he was here of his own volition, rather than coming to see why the queen kept looking at him, and appearing pleased to be in her presence would help with his chosen excuse.
"Queen Julia, it is an honor to stand before you. I fear I may have been impolite earlier, when I spoke to the king and gracelessly ignored your presence. Your radiance was so captivating that I found myself tongue-tied, and so I fled without paying proper respects. I am a simple wandering knight, and a foreigner at that, but if there is anything I can do to make up for my earlier impertinence I am at your service." Eli bowed once more, this time holding his left hand out slightly to the side in proper courtly fashion rather than reaching for a missing sword. He hoped he'd gotten his guess right about the reason for her glances, and that the queen did not view him as a threatening presence, otherwise this foolish gesture might be taken in very much the wrong way.
Both types of attention came his way that night, mainly the latter. Nobody knew who Eli would be fighting, but the lords of Albany made many snide remarks about how he was sure to lose against the king's chosen champion. They apparently viewed it as some show to prove the might of their homeland against foreigners, wherein the champion of Albany would defeat the champion of the Land of a Thousand Kings and prove once and for all which was the greater land. Eli was very amused by those implications. Judging from the indifference or outright coldness he received from most of the other Midland visitors, they did not view him as their representative in any way. A couple had implied that he was some kind of traitor since he fought for various lords of Albany, never mind the fact that he'd never turned his sword against his homeland. It was all very tedious and draining, but he responded to all of them with courtesy nonetheless.
Eli sat at the edge of the largest pocket of Midlanders, at the side of the room bur near to the dais as befit the higher stature of those making up this clump, and felt the position was very suiting. He was on the border between his homeland and Albany, a presence in both but truly part of neither. He was left alone for the moment, all those who wanted to wish him ill for tomorrow's fight apparently having already done so, and he looked round the room without any goal in mind, just seeing what was happening and keeping an eye on the goings on. Amidst this aimless watching, Eli saw a particular set of eyes turn his way a few times, seemingly directly and only at him before looking away. That struck him as passing strange. He had made his courtesies to the king earlier, thanking him for the honor of the invitation, and he had extended that to the queen as well. Why in the world would she be looking at him? Did she think his earlier address had been rude since he did not speak to her directly, only as a secondary inclusion in what he said to King Pompey? Did she view him as some kind of foreign threat that needed to be watched? There was really only one way to find out.
After making his way through the various tables and standing people, Eli stood at the base of the dais. He was not nearly so presumptuous as to climb the steps without leave, so he bowed to her from where he was. His left hand naturally went to his hip to grasp his sword hilt, the traditional warrior's bow, but it closed on empty air; he had left his sword behind and went to the wedding unarmed, as doing otherwise would have been seen as an insult or perhaps a threat. As he stood straight he put on the slight smile he used for diplomatic endeavors, squinting his eyes just a bit to make the pleasure look genuine. He'd already decided to act as if he was here of his own volition, rather than coming to see why the queen kept looking at him, and appearing pleased to be in her presence would help with his chosen excuse.
"Queen Julia, it is an honor to stand before you. I fear I may have been impolite earlier, when I spoke to the king and gracelessly ignored your presence. Your radiance was so captivating that I found myself tongue-tied, and so I fled without paying proper respects. I am a simple wandering knight, and a foreigner at that, but if there is anything I can do to make up for my earlier impertinence I am at your service." Eli bowed once more, this time holding his left hand out slightly to the side in proper courtly fashion rather than reaching for a missing sword. He hoped he'd gotten his guess right about the reason for her glances, and that the queen did not view him as a threatening presence, otherwise this foolish gesture might be taken in very much the wrong way.
Awson said
I meant the logistics of "chipping in."
Oh. Well, Doivid already gave a reasonable answer to that.
The logistics actually aren't that complicated. There are companies that rent out Minecraft servers for flat monthly rates or adjusted rates based on bandwidth usage and such, so if someone really cared to get that sorta thing running they wouldn't have to actually know how to do things with servers, they'd just need the money.
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