N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 17 days ago
Status
Recent Statuses
17 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
likes
25 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
likes
1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
like
3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
1
like
Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
Note: Not technically a pencil
Annika watched the Duke closely. He was a strange sort of man, with the broad burly frame and cragy features of a Hawkwood but with the aquiline nose and broading features of a Li Halan. That ancient and strange house was not well liked in the palaces of the Sultan, their holier than thou judgmentalism and austere self denial did little to endear them to the al Maliks they encountered. Since she had left Isktar Annika had seen little to confirm those biases, but those Li Halan she encountered did tend to be outsiders to their own family.
“Priests…” Duke William muttered, casting a baleful look at Mobian, “Priests!” The repeated word began in the same tone as the first but ended in a shriek. Annika risked a glance at Mobian who stared forward stoically a slight grimace in his stern expression.
“Priests! What do they know… I know more of the Pancreator than…” the Duke trailed off his eyes falling on Annika.
“Who are you?” he asked, his fury draining away as quickly as it had arisen. Mobian stepped forward.
“She is a sorcer... “
“SILENCE!” the Duke roared, rounding on the Avestite in an eyeblink.
“I am not speaking to you,” he snapped before spinning back to Annika. The mood in the chamber was growing tense, with the various advisors and hangers-on casting surreptious glances at one and other.
“You were saying my dear?” the Duke continued.
“I am Annika Comennos al Malik your grace,” she responded with a graceful curtsey. Her ecclesiastical rank was clearly displayed on her clothing and the Celestial Sun amulet she wore but if he noticed William Rochfort did not comment. Instead he took her hand and kissed it in courtly fashion. Annika kept an iron grip on her gifts, she could feel the Dukes moods surging and fading like waves lashing a rock. Mobian might be a fool but the Avestii had theugry of their own, and if he caught her using psychic powers on a man of Rochfort’s station she would go to the stake for certain.
“Charmed my dear,” he told her, “tell me are you endowed with the gifts of Euterpe?”
“As best as one not beyond the gates of Silinas your grace,” she responded. William smiled at her and then the expression seemed to freeze on his face. The corners of his mouth pulled the smile into a ricktus and his eyes grew wild.
“I must pray!” he declared and spun on his heel, heading towards the rear of the chamber in little short of a run. Mobian cast a baleful glance at Annika and Orion.
“Your grace,” he called after William, “What is to be done with this false knight and his…” Mobian evidently realised the Duke was too far away to address the question and then hurried after him as quickly as he could with the indignity of breaking into a run. Both men disappeared through a large door at the rear of the chamber which slammed behind them.
“I shall take charge of Sir Pentecost,” announced one of the advisors who had been trying to keep out of sight at the edge of the chamber. The speaker was a lean man in matte black from head to toe, something that put him at odds with the other occupants of the chamber, most of whom were dressed in silks or furs. He was dark haired and handsome and his eyes slapped down the other councilors.
“If you will come with me Sir and Sister,” he told them, leading them from the main chamber and through a hallway to a large library, with shelves of books and bundled scrolls that stretched from the plush carpeted floor to the high ceilings. He moved to a sideboard and took out a quaraf of what looked to be brandy and three glasses.
“I apologize for your reception in there, I am afraid Brother Mobian had the Duke’s ear this morning and spent most of it calling you all kinds of things,” he said, apologetically.
“Oh where are my manners, I am Dieter Engel, the Dukes Chamberlain.”
“Priests…” Duke William muttered, casting a baleful look at Mobian, “Priests!” The repeated word began in the same tone as the first but ended in a shriek. Annika risked a glance at Mobian who stared forward stoically a slight grimace in his stern expression.
“Priests! What do they know… I know more of the Pancreator than…” the Duke trailed off his eyes falling on Annika.
“Who are you?” he asked, his fury draining away as quickly as it had arisen. Mobian stepped forward.
“She is a sorcer... “
“SILENCE!” the Duke roared, rounding on the Avestite in an eyeblink.
“I am not speaking to you,” he snapped before spinning back to Annika. The mood in the chamber was growing tense, with the various advisors and hangers-on casting surreptious glances at one and other.
“You were saying my dear?” the Duke continued.
“I am Annika Comennos al Malik your grace,” she responded with a graceful curtsey. Her ecclesiastical rank was clearly displayed on her clothing and the Celestial Sun amulet she wore but if he noticed William Rochfort did not comment. Instead he took her hand and kissed it in courtly fashion. Annika kept an iron grip on her gifts, she could feel the Dukes moods surging and fading like waves lashing a rock. Mobian might be a fool but the Avestii had theugry of their own, and if he caught her using psychic powers on a man of Rochfort’s station she would go to the stake for certain.
“Charmed my dear,” he told her, “tell me are you endowed with the gifts of Euterpe?”
“As best as one not beyond the gates of Silinas your grace,” she responded. William smiled at her and then the expression seemed to freeze on his face. The corners of his mouth pulled the smile into a ricktus and his eyes grew wild.
“I must pray!” he declared and spun on his heel, heading towards the rear of the chamber in little short of a run. Mobian cast a baleful glance at Annika and Orion.
“Your grace,” he called after William, “What is to be done with this false knight and his…” Mobian evidently realised the Duke was too far away to address the question and then hurried after him as quickly as he could with the indignity of breaking into a run. Both men disappeared through a large door at the rear of the chamber which slammed behind them.
“I shall take charge of Sir Pentecost,” announced one of the advisors who had been trying to keep out of sight at the edge of the chamber. The speaker was a lean man in matte black from head to toe, something that put him at odds with the other occupants of the chamber, most of whom were dressed in silks or furs. He was dark haired and handsome and his eyes slapped down the other councilors.
“If you will come with me Sir and Sister,” he told them, leading them from the main chamber and through a hallway to a large library, with shelves of books and bundled scrolls that stretched from the plush carpeted floor to the high ceilings. He moved to a sideboard and took out a quaraf of what looked to be brandy and three glasses.
“I apologize for your reception in there, I am afraid Brother Mobian had the Duke’s ear this morning and spent most of it calling you all kinds of things,” he said, apologetically.
“Oh where are my manners, I am Dieter Engel, the Dukes Chamberlain.”
Emmaline pushed herself up against one of the cool adobe walls, blowing a lock of blond hair out of her face as she did so. She couldn't have imagined that she would ever find herself in an ancient Nehekaran city, a year ago she would have considered an exciting night escaping from a card game gone wrong.
"Talking skulls do have an excellent reputation," she agreed before closing her eyes and promptly falling asleep.
The cool touch of night air awakened her and she opened her eyes to find that the scene hadn't changed much during the hours she had slept. The blazing heat of the day had passed and the cool of night was stealing over the land. Carefully she stood up and stretched her aching muscles. A small pile of items lay on the earthen floor, evidently household nicknacks Amal had been able to find while she slept though there was nothing very remarkable about them. An ancient knife, a small figurine that might have belonged to a child and a few fragments of pottery.
"Sleep well," Amal asked appearing as if from nowhere out of the shadows. She shook her head ruefully feeling embarassed.
"You should have woken me so I could watch while you got some sleep," she half scolded him. Amal shrugged as though this was of little import.
"You obviously needed it," he replied simply. Ever fibre of his being seemed to convey an eagerness to be off and exploring the greater mysteries of the city and so Emmaline pulled herself to her feet, taking a couple of dates from the back and popping them in her mouth as she did so. She retrieved her staff and looked out over the city. In the distance was the ruin of a pyramid, stark and white against the moon.
"Well," she said simply, "one guess which direction we should go."
"Talking skulls do have an excellent reputation," she agreed before closing her eyes and promptly falling asleep.
The cool touch of night air awakened her and she opened her eyes to find that the scene hadn't changed much during the hours she had slept. The blazing heat of the day had passed and the cool of night was stealing over the land. Carefully she stood up and stretched her aching muscles. A small pile of items lay on the earthen floor, evidently household nicknacks Amal had been able to find while she slept though there was nothing very remarkable about them. An ancient knife, a small figurine that might have belonged to a child and a few fragments of pottery.
"Sleep well," Amal asked appearing as if from nowhere out of the shadows. She shook her head ruefully feeling embarassed.
"You should have woken me so I could watch while you got some sleep," she half scolded him. Amal shrugged as though this was of little import.
"You obviously needed it," he replied simply. Ever fibre of his being seemed to convey an eagerness to be off and exploring the greater mysteries of the city and so Emmaline pulled herself to her feet, taking a couple of dates from the back and popping them in her mouth as she did so. She retrieved her staff and looked out over the city. In the distance was the ruin of a pyramid, stark and white against the moon.
"Well," she said simply, "one guess which direction we should go."
Annika sat in her meditative pose considering Orion's words. Even having just prayed it was difficult to resist the urge to peer into his mind with her gifts, to see the images and feel his thoughts about the things he described but that would be sinful, terribly sinful given that she was hearing his confession. It was interesting to know the reason his leige bore him such ill will, though she doubted it was within her power to remedy. As for the rest of it...
"The Pancreator, in His Wisdom, created the pagan as well as the righteous," she explained.
"While it is our duty to bring all men to the proper worship of the Pancreator, it is not for us to undo his design, though it may vex us," she went on, thinking of the instruction she had received from pagans at the cloister where she had been sent after her abilities first manifested.
"We do not know his purpose, and should Ragnar play you false there will be a time and a place for..."
"I might have expected to find you spreading such Heresy!" a voice snarled. Annika was snapped out of her focus and looked up to see a man clothed the the blood red robes of the Temple Avestii. He had a severe face half hidden by his cowl and he carried a flame gun, though he wasn't pointing it at either of them as yet. She recognized Brother Mobian from the Farsi though she had never thought to see him again.
"How dare you interrupt the confession of a member of the Faithful!" Annika blazed her anger overcoming proper ecclesiastical discipline. A sacrament such as this was private and Mobian's intrusion was well beyond what Church authorities were likely to accept. Formal complaints between Estakonics and Avestii were common, but even here where the Orthodox held sway, interupting a sacred rite was not likely to be looked upon kind.
"Faithful might be a stretch if he consorts with witches..." Mobian paused to nod his head towards the bound Ragnar, "and Pagans."
"I shall have charges drawn up before the curia..." Annika continued her eyes narrowing with rage but the Avestii merely made a dismissive guesutre.
"Unfortunately 'sister' I am here as an arm of the civil government during a time of crisis and as such am not subject to censure for minor infractions of Cannon law," he smirked. Annika felt her teeth grind, Mobian was correct in that, or at least correct enough in an Orthodox See that it didn't matter.
"His eminence has sent me to collect this ... knight," he said contemptuously.
"As he made no mention of you, you will remain..." Mobian went on but it was Annika's turn to cut him off.
"As he made no mention of me, and you are, as you say acting in the capacity of the civil government, I am free to come and go where I choose, and I choose to remain with Sir Pentecost." Mobian's jaw clicked shut, his eyes filling with rage at being caught by his own logic, for a moment it seemed he might argue but then he merely pointed at Orion.
"You are commanded to appear before the Duke, why do you delay?!"
"The Pancreator, in His Wisdom, created the pagan as well as the righteous," she explained.
"While it is our duty to bring all men to the proper worship of the Pancreator, it is not for us to undo his design, though it may vex us," she went on, thinking of the instruction she had received from pagans at the cloister where she had been sent after her abilities first manifested.
"We do not know his purpose, and should Ragnar play you false there will be a time and a place for..."
"I might have expected to find you spreading such Heresy!" a voice snarled. Annika was snapped out of her focus and looked up to see a man clothed the the blood red robes of the Temple Avestii. He had a severe face half hidden by his cowl and he carried a flame gun, though he wasn't pointing it at either of them as yet. She recognized Brother Mobian from the Farsi though she had never thought to see him again.
"How dare you interrupt the confession of a member of the Faithful!" Annika blazed her anger overcoming proper ecclesiastical discipline. A sacrament such as this was private and Mobian's intrusion was well beyond what Church authorities were likely to accept. Formal complaints between Estakonics and Avestii were common, but even here where the Orthodox held sway, interupting a sacred rite was not likely to be looked upon kind.
"Faithful might be a stretch if he consorts with witches..." Mobian paused to nod his head towards the bound Ragnar, "and Pagans."
"I shall have charges drawn up before the curia..." Annika continued her eyes narrowing with rage but the Avestii merely made a dismissive guesutre.
"Unfortunately 'sister' I am here as an arm of the civil government during a time of crisis and as such am not subject to censure for minor infractions of Cannon law," he smirked. Annika felt her teeth grind, Mobian was correct in that, or at least correct enough in an Orthodox See that it didn't matter.
"His eminence has sent me to collect this ... knight," he said contemptuously.
"As he made no mention of you, you will remain..." Mobian went on but it was Annika's turn to cut him off.
"As he made no mention of me, and you are, as you say acting in the capacity of the civil government, I am free to come and go where I choose, and I choose to remain with Sir Pentecost." Mobian's jaw clicked shut, his eyes filling with rage at being caught by his own logic, for a moment it seemed he might argue but then he merely pointed at Orion.
"You are commanded to appear before the Duke, why do you delay?!"
Rene and Solae exchanged looks. Neither of the wanted to lead, certainly they had both been born to it, but following their own inclinations they would have both chosen to lead simpler lives. What the Syshin suggested made sense in their frame of reference but the broader political implications were problematic. It was, marginally, acceptable for Rene to be Solae's consort but even that limited roll was likely to cause her headaches in the future. It might be understood that he would wield the power of counsel to his partner, but taking on official power, even in a situation like the Syshin was a more dangerous question. Whether Rene would be seen as an evil adviser advancing himself at the cost of the people, or a Cappelan lording it over the local aristocracy largely depended on the bent of whomever was spinning the story.
Not for the first time Rene wished they were free to choose their own destiny, without having to run every choice and action through the myriad political ramifications it might have, but a fish might as well wish it could fly. Of course, Rene thought, there were the rare exceptions that could. The idea cheered him considerably.
"Speaking of your people, were you able to make anything out of the records you found on the Bonaventure?" he asked, expertly changing the subject. It was not abandoned, but something he and Solae would need to discuss in private before they did so infront of her retainers. Yarue's face fell somewhat at the question.
"Little," he confessed, "The records are ..." The Syshin struggled for the words.
"Incomplete, fabricated, filed by idiots?" Rene prompted. The Syshin nodded at the last.
"There is automated data and the occasional note, but nothing that makes things clear," the Syshin responded. Rene pondered that for a moment.
"Why don't you as Mia to take a look with you, it isn't quite the same but she has a great deal of experience in piecing together facts and theories from fairly limited information," he told Yarue. The AI could extrapolate a thesis worth of data from the phrasing of an RSVP and the twitch of an eyelash, Rene was fairly certain it was up to reconstructing the rudimentary files of a couple of degenerate space pirates.
There was a gentle tone at the door and a moment later it wavered out of existence revealing a slender but relatively diminutive Kalderi. Gender was still be no means certain, but Rene's mind instinctively classified this one as female. She wore a flowing robe of plane white save for gold thread that had been bound around her wings in a lose netting that formed an intricate cats cradle.
"Greetings," she said in flawless if exotic sounding Standard. Solae stood and offered her greetings and Rene followed suit.
"I am Kel'shaiei," the Kalderi said lowering her eyes deferentially to Solae.
"I am to be your guide in matters of protocol for tonight's dance, we do not wish you to be intimidated by unfamiliar customs."
Not for the first time Rene wished they were free to choose their own destiny, without having to run every choice and action through the myriad political ramifications it might have, but a fish might as well wish it could fly. Of course, Rene thought, there were the rare exceptions that could. The idea cheered him considerably.
"Speaking of your people, were you able to make anything out of the records you found on the Bonaventure?" he asked, expertly changing the subject. It was not abandoned, but something he and Solae would need to discuss in private before they did so infront of her retainers. Yarue's face fell somewhat at the question.
"Little," he confessed, "The records are ..." The Syshin struggled for the words.
"Incomplete, fabricated, filed by idiots?" Rene prompted. The Syshin nodded at the last.
"There is automated data and the occasional note, but nothing that makes things clear," the Syshin responded. Rene pondered that for a moment.
"Why don't you as Mia to take a look with you, it isn't quite the same but she has a great deal of experience in piecing together facts and theories from fairly limited information," he told Yarue. The AI could extrapolate a thesis worth of data from the phrasing of an RSVP and the twitch of an eyelash, Rene was fairly certain it was up to reconstructing the rudimentary files of a couple of degenerate space pirates.
There was a gentle tone at the door and a moment later it wavered out of existence revealing a slender but relatively diminutive Kalderi. Gender was still be no means certain, but Rene's mind instinctively classified this one as female. She wore a flowing robe of plane white save for gold thread that had been bound around her wings in a lose netting that formed an intricate cats cradle.
"Greetings," she said in flawless if exotic sounding Standard. Solae stood and offered her greetings and Rene followed suit.
"I am Kel'shaiei," the Kalderi said lowering her eyes deferentially to Solae.
"I am to be your guide in matters of protocol for tonight's dance, we do not wish you to be intimidated by unfamiliar customs."
© 2007-2026