Subj: [ffml] [HD] Adaptation Date: 01-02-27 23:48:30 EST From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com Aelis-Re disembarked from the runner-ship in time honored fashion; he waited until around midnight, then slowly wheeled the Bear off the boat and onto the docks. He was free of nightmares for the present - Larathia must be re-living something that didn't involve him - and he planned to head for the outskirts of town and sleep under the stars. He looked haggard and worn, and knew it. He couldn't wrangle concessions out of weaponsmiths looking like something dredged from the sea bottom. But by the next noon, he was back on track. He entered the shop of what local rumor held to be the finest weaponsmith in Nikeah, and flipped a huge - and stuffed - sack down next to the forge. "You're going to make me a weapon," he told the weaponsmith - who turned out to be a man in his late fifties, built like a tree, with the face of an ogre. "Am I now," the man said, unimpressed. "And just what makes you think that?" A smaller sack - much, much smaller - made a pleasing *krsssh* sound as it hit the cold anvil. Small gemstones poured out, mostly sapphires. The weaponsmith unhurriedly collected the spilled gems and replaced them in the pouch, weighing it in his hand. "And just what sort of weapon would you be wanting for this?" he said, suspicious. In response, Aelis-Re plunked down a small stack of printout. The weaponsmith riffled through the pages, then tossed the pouch back. "Sorry, that design can't be made." He turned away, dismissing his visitor. He turned back when he heard the safety of a gun click off. Turning around, he saw that his tall, thin visitor was casually pointing a heavy-caliber gun at him. He scowled. "Don't think you can threaten me, boy," he said. "I've had people a lot bigger and tougher than you try that, and I used their thighbones to decorate my doorway. Now push off before you annoy me." Perhaps his lack of fear impressed the stranger; an odd, condescending look crossed his face, and he clicked the safety back on. He nodded to the weaponsmith. "I'll just take my business to Bjork then, down the way. He'll be happy for the fame." "Bjork couldn't find his ass with both hands, never mind follow the schematics you've laid out." The stranger shook his head, loose waves of brown hair falling into his eyes. "Don't give me that bullshit. I know enough of weapon making to know the design's not impossible." "Forge it yourself, then," came the reply. A wicked light entered the young man's eyes, and the weaponsmith realized that was exactly what the man had wanted to hear. "How much to just use your forge, then?" he said. The weaponsmith's tree-trunk arms crossed over his barrel chest. "You're too scrawny even to lift the damn hammer, boy," he said. "Don't get off telling *me* you can forge weapons." "If you want to watch me, take the price down by half. Or I'll just pay Bjork to borrow *his* forge." The weaponsmith knew he was being manipulated, but he couldn't help being curious. The schematics the young man had laid out were incredibly complex, a revolutionary redesign of an already rare and hard-to-make weapon. And the guy looked like bare meat on the bone, he couldn't *possibly* be able to lift the hammer properly. And he was so young; weaponsmithing took decades of study, and the guy didn't even look thirty. "Done," said the weaponsmith, and quoted a price - keeping it fair, and taking into account the discount for being allowed to watch. "But you pay full price if the weapon's no good." "Deal," said the man. "Now get out of my way." It took a solid week to make the gunblade, and during the entire time, the man didn't say another word. The weaponsmith watched, fascinated, as the fellow used skill rather than strength to shape the adamantine and other materials, folding the metal over and over and over to create an incredibly tough blade. He wished he'd bargained for the right to take notes; he was learning things he'd never thought possible. The gunblade, when finished, qualified as a work of art. The single-edged blade was broad at the hilt, and made a sweeping taper to a needle-fine point. Although the back of the blade was ruler-straight, it nevertheless gave the impression of curving. The charge-chamber held twelve 'bullets' of glowing ammunition, and the pistol-hilt conformed perfectly to the man's hand. A broad silvery band served as the hand guard, creating an overall look that somewhat resembled a pirate's cutlass. It took another two days for the man to finish making his ammunition, which filled a rather large sack even though each charge was about the size of one knuckle. The weaponsmith was not inclined to ask what the man felt he'd need that much ammunition for. But he did dare to ask what the weapon was called, when it was clear the man was finished. He gave the weaponsmith a look that clearly said "Why would that matter to *you*?" but replied, "Zephyr". With that shining gunblade slung casually over his shoulder, as if it were a stick holding a beggar's bag of goods, the weaponsmith was not inclined to give the stranger any cause to linger. Just holding it in his hands had changed his whole demeanor, as though he'd completed a quest. When he left without incident, the weaponsmith ended up feeling as though he'd been granted a stay of execution. * * * * * Aelis-Re was almost...almost...content. Zephyr was in his hands now; he was armed with a weapon of *this world*, and since he was human that meant he was now playing by The Rules this place went by. He gave the sword an experimental few swings; the balance was feather-light and perfect. It had been a long time since he'd had to forge his own weapons, but thankfully his own memory was damn near perfect of the lifetime he'd learned the skill; the nightmares had given him an unexpected benefit in that regard. He wondered again what had happened to the twin longswords he'd carried then; bladewise, they were ten times more magnificent than the one he held in his hands now. They'd been made for him by his mother, a grey elven archmage so powerful even her own people had not dared to anger her, or condemn her for loving a degenerate desert elf. They'd had tigers-eye inlaid on the guard and hilt, and were enchanted to be able to hit *anything* - even things normally invulnerable to weapons. He couldn't enchant the gunblade, though it was good enough quality that it would hold any enchantment laid on it. But he wasn't a mage, now. He could remember no spells, though he knew well enough how they were constructed and could probably identify any spell as it was being cast. He didn't have the internal power to cast them, not in this life. The gift for spells had been replaced in this life with a knack for computers, and a fat lot of good *that* was going to do him, here. For a moment he debated finding a mage or archmage in order to get an enchantment. That hit-anything enchantment had really come in handy on more than one occasion, and he rather suspected he was going to need all the firepower he could get. Anytime his wife got tapped by her crazed goddess, he ended up needing more firepower than he had.... He shook his head to clear his thoughts, pulled off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. Enough of such negativity; the first hurdle was cleared. The next was to find this 'lone avariel girl' his wife had been sent to guard, and stick by her until Larathia showed up. Then find out how *long* he had to guard the girl, do that, and get the hell off this world before something insanely stupid killed him. He put his new weapon through a few practice moves, getting a feel for it. Oh, yes...he could use this. It was, quite literally, made for him. He headed back into town, his new weapon casually slung over his shoulder. He'd noted how respectful the weaponsmith had gotten, and that was an attitude he very much wanted to cultivate. It was time to see if the locals knew anything of this girl he was supposed to find. Subj: [ffml] [HD] Bank Error in Your Favor, Collect $50 Date: 01-02-28 12:36:50 EST From: larathia@mcs.net (Larathia) Reply-to: ffml@yahoogroups.com To: ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com Rumors around Nikeah held that a lone avariel had been looking for a group of men and boys that were said to be part of a seducer's harem. Which meant that if he could find that group, he'd probably find the avariel - or at least news of her. So when Aelis-Re set out from Nikeah, he set off after the harem. He had a better idea of the girl he was hunting, now. She had made no secret of her wherabouts while in Nikeah; probably so this harem group could find her. He'd found traces of her spells all over the place, rippling tingles on his fingertips. Thankfully he didn't have to guess what the spells had *been* - holes in a few walls, and lots of dripping cold water, told the tale easily enough. Well, if she felt the urge to throw snowballs or icicles at *him*, Zephyr was fast enough to deflect them. Back home, the only combat training he'd needed had been with the gun, which was easy enough to learn. He'd re-learned swordfighting by a combination of meditation on his past-life memories and occasional practice bouts with the local branch of the SCA, but hadn't really had to use it. For some reason, just *holding* a sword like you knew how to use it intimidated a lot of people. Here, he felt the strong need to bone up on his sword-swinging. So every night, he put Zephyr through its paces, doing every sword-dance he'd learned in a thousand lifetimes. He didn't want to waste the explosive power of the charges by using badly-aimed strikes. During the course of his practice, he understood why the gunblade was a rare but respected weapon; getting the hang of the odd, angled grip and the timing of the charges was a bitch - but once you *did* get the hang of them, the stopping power of the weapon was enormous. It might be a combination of sword and gun, but when it came to *using* the damn thing, it was in a category all its own; neither his experience with guns nor most of his experience with swords would help him use it. The dance he'd devised was a new thing, made to fit the weapon. And yet, as he pulled it through the sword dances, he got the feeling that this thing he had made had a huge reservoir of untapped potential. Which was crazy. He'd killed the monsters for the materials needed himself; he'd designed and forged the weapon all on his own. There shouldn't be *anything* about it he didn't know, inside and out. Yet he couldn't shake the suspicion that it could do more...or maybe that it could make *him* do more. . . Wondering about that kept his mind occupied during the long hours of searching and tracking. The ferocity of the sword dance kept him tired enough to stay asleep even through the nightmares of his wife's memories. He was *really* hoping she was there, guarding the green-winged avariel girl, and that he could help her get through this. Part of that desire was love and the need to help...but an increasingly large part of it was the desire to *sleep* at night. Tonight, he was in a huge, blasted section of what used to be forest. Something *big* had practically levelled the place fairly recently, but when he touched the blasted tree-trunks the tingle in his fingers told him it was the result of magic and not a monster's attack. Any mage that could - and *would* - take out such a large part of the surroundings as well as his foes (for there were a few bits and pieces of tattered clothing around charred flesh and bone) would have done a superlative job in making sure every last one was dead. So Aelis-Re felt quite safe in making the place his campsite for the night; it afforded a good view of the surrounding forest, and quite probably the most dangerous possible opponents were already dead. He sheathed Zephyr by the simple tactic of jamming it point-first into the ground (he knew the adamantine blade wouldn't dull at the treatment) and hunted in the Bear's saddlebags for his sleeping-mat. A slithering sound behind him told him that he probably should have checked the area more thouroughly. He *hated* snakes. He reached out slowly for Zephyr's hilt. Time to see whether all the work was worth it. When he spun around, Zephyr held at an angle before him in a ready position, he almost groaned. Not one big snake, but *three* _very_ big snakes. Very hungry snakes. God, he hated snakes! Thankfully, they made choosing his target easy for him; one of the snakes darted out its head, fangs ready to deliver a poisonous bite. Quicker than thought, the blade of Zephyr sliced through it - though Aelis-Re missed the timing on the trigger. That proved to be a bonus, though. Since he'd designed the blade to extend the energy burst beyond the blade's tip, missing the first snake meant that the blast got carried right into the second. It was immensely satisfying to see the energy charge turn Big Hungry Snake into Kibbles 'N Bits, even if it wasn't what he'd planned to do. That left Big Ugly, who opted to attack with its tail instead of its head - wrapping it around Aelis-Re's legs. Oh, great. The underbelly of the snake wasn't smooth, it was covered in *spikes* - and they were driving into his calves and thighs in an incredibly painful manner. The world was turning red. Something in the feel of the gunblade in his hand *clicked* with something in the back of Aelis-Re's mind. Just for a moment, he wasn't at all inexpert with the weapon. In that moment, that do-something-now-or-die moment, there was a place beyond fury or rage or pain. Bladesingers had called it the moment of final clarity; the point in time where your entire life and being make absolute and perfect sense. Warriors could be trained to use that moment to save their lives. And now, Aelis-Re was once again a warrior. Not a network manager, not a heavily-armed cracker working for someone else...a warrior in his own right. He took that moment of clarity and siezed it for all it was worth. The gunblade came up in a flash, and slashed completely through the snake again and again and again. The coils loosened around Aelis-Re's legs, and he still kept slashing. When the moment of final clarity faded, he blinked a few times and fell to his knees. There was blood all over his legs from the bone spikes, and he'd have to check to see if he had another pair of jeans. The last snake looked worse than the one the energy charge had hit. It looked like it had been smeared by a train going at high speed. He hadn't hit it *that* many times....had he? "Bahnungluek," he said to himself. Train Wreck. That's what the scene looked like. After he'd gotten his legs bandaged up and a pair of jeans without holes in 'em on, he checked the archives for information on past gunblade users. Not on the gunblade itself, which he'd already extensively researched, but on the people that had used them. For the most part, the information available was pointless details on their personalities and histories. He didn't care about that; he wasn't them, they were dead, he wasn't going to meet them or anyone who'd known them. But they'd done this...train wreck...of a move, too. The text described it as a Limit Break, which made an odd sort of sense. You reached your limit, of pain or whatever, and you broke something. The last snake was *certainly* broken. You couldn't even tell it had been a snake. There was footage available of these limits. How Larathia had found them was a mystery, since all of it was history of the ancient sort even the last time they'd been here. He scanned through the various attacks, but none quite matched what he'd done to the snake. Well, of course. By the look of it, the personality of the wielder had a great deal to do with what form the break would take. He couldn't see anything of himself in the wielders on file. One was an egomaniacal lunatic that reminded him sharply of a previous employer, and the other... He laughed to himself over the idea of being like the other. Yeah, right. Anyone that'd walk out of the house in the morning dressed like *that* needed to get a life. He wasn't a fashion cop, and cared nothing for current styles - that had nothing to do with it. This...this was just *unreal*. He could see the need for a leather jacket, good hardwearing stuff, probably not so expensive here where hide was more plentiful than heavy cloth...but if you're going to wear one it ought to be long enough to actually keep you warm. And the belts..hah. Try sitting down in that getup and there'd be pain everywhere. The pants looked to be leather too. Either the guy had legendary self-control, then, or he just wasn't interested in having kids. He checked Larathia's margin-notes and shook his head. Another one of her favorites, it seemed. Well, practicality had never been her strong point. He took note of the getup; yes, she *had* mentioned wanting to see him in something like that once or twice, but she'd been grinning and he'd thought it was a joke. It *better* be a joke. This was as bad as that obsession she'd had with kilts a few years ago. He'd stick to plain jeans and a t-shirt. He added notes to the archives on his own limit, and cross-referenced them to the schematics of Zephyr. Where it asked for a limit name (as a short reference), he entered 'Bahnungluek', train wreck. He shut down the laptop and put it back in the saddlebags, limping heavily. There were no notes on how the previous wielders had died. Presumably, this meant that they'd managed to survive into old age, dying peacefully or otherwise uneventfully in their sleep. That was a good sign. As Aelis-Re got as comfortable as he might on his sleeping mat, he let his mind wander over the information he'd uncovered and his wife's fascination with the *stupidest* things. "Catch *me* in leather pants, yeah right," he muttered, as he drifted off to sleep.... Larathia http://www.mcs.net/~larathia ICQ: 22170253 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Everything you need to know is in there somewhere, you just maybe haven't been to the right group yet. The golden rules are: crossposting is better than multiple posting, killfiles are better than flaming and long signatures are conceited. -- Simon Travaglia, "Most of what I needed to know about life I learnt from Usenet News" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------