Three minutes after coming through the gate and I was under attack. Not much of an attack, but an attack nonetheless. Three AK's and two Storms don't give me any concern (I barely noticed them), but now the Core was alerted to my position. They knew an Arm Commander was on the scene. After a few seconds of self debate about the ramifications of this revelation I decided I liked the idea that they knew I was around.
As I worked my nanolathe building my support structures, I reviewed my orders and my priorities. My orders were simple. There was a Genesis Station on this unnamed planet; don't let the Core forces breach it. The situation itself was far more complex.
Commander Syrnak looked down the small hill at his defenses as they fought off Core forces. It was the third attack from this flank of his base. He had no reason to actually be present other than to satisfy his curiosity. Why was the Core attacking here? And with light forces only? It made no sense to him.
Commander Syrnak shifted his gaze to the distant horizon; spoke through the comlink, "Well? I assume this is about the Wolverine unit design."
"You are certain this line is secured? From both the Core and ... our side?"
"Yes." How many times do I have to tell you? The bureaucrat from Strategic Planning And Review was being overly cautious! "You know damn well it is," he said, exasperation leaking through. "Now, tell me what is so important to justify a Priority Alpha-One call?"
A moment of silence, then, "You're being reassigned. The current situation will be handled by your second-in-command, and -"
"Wait a minute. Why am I not getting this from Central Command?"
"Well, things are a little delicate. CC did not like the decision the SPAR Council came to. CC has full knowledge of what we're doing here."
Full knowledge! Yeah, right! "My obedience is to -"
"Yourself. Your obedience ... is to yourself, first. Hear me out, Commander Syrnak. Trust me, you want to hear me out. You're needed for a Genesis Station evacuation."
Genesis Station evac? Didn't Reflin just complete training for that?
As if reading his mind, the other voice continued, "Commander Reflin is being side-stepped. You've done six full evacs, making you the most experienced. We need you." Then, as if for further emphasis, he added, "The zone is red-tagged. Level three."
There was no hesitation from Syrnak; he was, after all, a professional. "Profile population?"
"Twenty three."
"You'd better be talking about twenty three hundred, and not thousand, or more. Why didn't you contact me when you blue-tagged the zone?"
"It was never blue-tagged."
Better start counting the surprises. That's number one.
"And I'm talking about a much smaller number than twenty three thousand."
Number two?
"I mean twenty three. Exactly."
No!
"They're all Commanders, Third Generation."
NO!
"Commander Syrnak, your Originator profile is one of them."
Syrnak's surroundings melted away from his consciousness, isolating him in his own thoughts, leaving nothing of the outside world but the voice on the other end of the comlink.
"Zone coordinates and other details have been transmitted to the Gate. The Wolverine unit has been approved for operational status. Commander Syrnak? Good luck."
Silence.
The comlink hissed static, then his end of the comlink shut down. His suit automatically erased all memory of the Priority Alpha-One transmission. His mind did not.
One element of the outside world entered his consciousness. The Galactic Gate.
Yes. I have a mission... THEY ARE NOT GOING TO KILL ME!
"Peeper Flight 4, this is GS Command. We need a visual sweep of Sector 12-3."
Human hands rested lightly on the armrests of a command chair. Three of the four screens the chair faced came to life as the info feed from three Peepers was directed to the station. Station Commander Degault glanced to his right as the Terrain Display Unit came to life, tracing a three-dimensional holographic projection of Sector 12-3 from its memory banks.
An artificial voice inquired, "Specify data projection protocols."
Degault answered, "Recon-1."
"Recalling Recon-1 protocols. Dark-paint visual areas. Mark all radar contacts. Iconize confirmed units and track. Warn on possible security leaks. Recon-1 protocol now in effect."
Degault forced himself to watch the TDU, even though he wanted to watch the forward sensor feeds from the Peepers. As if he knew he couldn't rely on his self-discipline alone, Degault pressed down on a switch and the command chair rotated slowly to the right. As the chair came to a halt, three triangles appeared on the near edge of the TDU projection. The triangles were moving at a rapid rate towards one of the far corners. Degault threw an occasional sideways glance at the three screens, as if he could see something on them first.
His attention was soon fully on the TDU as three red dots appeared on the display. The Peepers changed course to intercept the radar contacts. Degault knew they would fly by at too high a speed for him to make out any details on the view-screens, so he kept his eye on the TDU, waiting for it to transform the data into a form he could more easily recognize. More red dots appeared in two other clusters as the Peepers came closer to the original contacts. As the Peepers came into visual range of the contacts the TDU interpreted the information and the red dots coalesced into identifiable icons. They were Arm units; two solar collectors and a metal extractor where there wasn't supposed to be anything. The Peepers changed course again to sweep over the other two clusters. The second cluster was another two solar collectors and a light laser tower hidden behind some trees. As they neared the third cluster they picked up another lone contact deep in some nearby forest. The third cluster was a solar collector, a level one Arm k-bot lab, a Construction K-bot, and a missile tower which did not turn to fire at the Peepers.
Degault was almost sure now of what the Peepers would find, but it was best to be certain. After all, the Core had managed to get their hands on Arm units before. As the Peepers raced towards the last unconfirmed contact, Degault reined in his hope.
The red dot coalesced into a form which was very familiar to Degault. He leaned forward in his chair, opened a channel to the Peepers, and barely whispered, "Identity-check that last contact."
A moment passed before the reply came back, "GS Command, this is Peeper Flight 4. We have a confirmed identity-check on last unit contact. I repeat, we have a confirmed identity-check on last unit contact."
An Arm Commander!
Degault leaned back and let hope recharge his tired body.
A flight of Peepers came to greet me to this new world. No doubt they were responding to the power surge in the Gate. They requested an identity-check from me in the second fly-by; a prudent move.
It didn't take much longer before I was hooked into the energy and metal distribution system. Then I began my work in earnest. First, I would need to be briefed by the commander-in-charge. Then I would have to verify all the latest intel, personally. Finally, I could begin evac preparations. My initial impression of the mission was that it could take a while.
08 September 2009
03 September 2009
About A Beginning in Sight
After a short break from Utopia, I recreated an account. I don’t recall the exact timeline, but I wrote another story around that time and dated it in Age 15 (Q1 2002). I didn’t share the story with my Kingdom-mates for some reason or another, although I did post it to my GeoCities page.
It’s not a coincidence that this story was written around the time of my other two short stories, “A Crazy World” and “The Keys”. I was in the writing mood, and it’s obvious I was projecting myself onto the characters I created.
There’s actually not much in this story, except a reference to game mechanics that dates the tale (Storms negate Droughts, and vice versa, which seems logical enough, but was only just then introduced to the game), and a light-hearted exploration of Dhuergar’s and Qualath’s friendship. In the end, Dhuergar’s practicality tugs the two back into the harsh realities of their world, just as I too learned to let go of what had to end.
It’s not a coincidence that this story was written around the time of my other two short stories, “A Crazy World” and “The Keys”. I was in the writing mood, and it’s obvious I was projecting myself onto the characters I created.
There’s actually not much in this story, except a reference to game mechanics that dates the tale (Storms negate Droughts, and vice versa, which seems logical enough, but was only just then introduced to the game), and a light-hearted exploration of Dhuergar’s and Qualath’s friendship. In the end, Dhuergar’s practicality tugs the two back into the harsh realities of their world, just as I too learned to let go of what had to end.
02 September 2009
About Homeward Bound
My second Utopia-based fiction was written as an introduction piece to a new Kingdom. It was Age 11 (Q1 2001, soon after I left Canada) and I had actually done the unthinkable. I had traded into an existing Kingdom, taking over someone else’s province. This is expressly forbidden by the rules of the game, though many people did it. The main motivation was either to move into SK’s (Super Kingdoms), or to join people you knew. For me, it was the latter reason. My own Kingdom was dying a natural death, and my then-girlfriend had an opening in her Kingdom due to someone announcing his intention to leave. Hers was a good Kingdom, with a good track record, and a group of players who had proven their ability to play together as a team. So I traded in, despite my earlier conviction that trading wasn’t good for the game.
I made reference to my trading in the story, with the notion that Dhuergar rules the province by proxy, since in-game, I was not playing Dhuergar Warhammer. I can’t remember the name of the province or its ruler. All I remember is that it was a dwarf province, which is lucky for me, because I know how to play a dwarf province.
In the story I also gave an indication of my game-playing experience, by mentioning all the different races I had experience with (Dwarf, Elf, Avian, Faery, Human, Halfling). In fact, I’ve tried all the different races in Utopia, including Undead and the “newer” Gnome (replacing Halfling) and Dark Elf (replacing Faery), except for Orc. The mechanics of the Orc race don’t suit my play style very well, so they’re the only race I’ve never played on any of the Utopia servers. Besides, I could never imagine Dhuergar Warhammer as ruler of an Orcish province!
Incidentally, I didn’t stay in that Kingdom for too long. A few Ages later, my province was deleted, most likely for being a traded account. I can’t confirm that of course, but I suspect that, since a few of us from the Kingdom were deleted in one purge. It was quite common for Swirve to purge the servers of multi accounts or other cheaters every once in a while. By the time I was deleted, I didn’t mind it. My ex had already stopped playing, and I had no particular attachment to the Kingdom, so I took a hiatus from the game when it happened. It was a break I needed.
I made reference to my trading in the story, with the notion that Dhuergar rules the province by proxy, since in-game, I was not playing Dhuergar Warhammer. I can’t remember the name of the province or its ruler. All I remember is that it was a dwarf province, which is lucky for me, because I know how to play a dwarf province.
In the story I also gave an indication of my game-playing experience, by mentioning all the different races I had experience with (Dwarf, Elf, Avian, Faery, Human, Halfling). In fact, I’ve tried all the different races in Utopia, including Undead and the “newer” Gnome (replacing Halfling) and Dark Elf (replacing Faery), except for Orc. The mechanics of the Orc race don’t suit my play style very well, so they’re the only race I’ve never played on any of the Utopia servers. Besides, I could never imagine Dhuergar Warhammer as ruler of an Orcish province!
Incidentally, I didn’t stay in that Kingdom for too long. A few Ages later, my province was deleted, most likely for being a traded account. I can’t confirm that of course, but I suspect that, since a few of us from the Kingdom were deleted in one purge. It was quite common for Swirve to purge the servers of multi accounts or other cheaters every once in a while. By the time I was deleted, I didn’t mind it. My ex had already stopped playing, and I had no particular attachment to the Kingdom, so I took a hiatus from the game when it happened. It was a break I needed.
01 September 2009
About The Dawn of Sylvan Hold
I started playing Utopia in the Second Age, early 1999. The Third Age, however, was my first full Age playing the game. In my first experience with Utopia I had selected dwarf for race, and named my province Mithrils Hold (no punctuation, since Utopia doesn’t allow for punctuation in names). By the time the Third Age was going to start, I had already grasped some of the basics of the game. Since I had faced difficulties with a dwarf province, I selected the elf race for the Third Age.
My ruler name for the Second Age was Dhuergar Warhammer, a reference to AD&D gray dwarves (duergar) and the Warhammer fantasy world. Plus, the warhammer was often associated with dwarven characters, so that seemed to fit. My province name was just a quick nod to the mythical metal mithril, from Tolkien’s LoTR universe.
When I created my account for the Third Age, I was a little stumped for a ruler name. Then I decided to maintain the one I had used previously, for continuity sake, as well as for role-playing reasons. To this day, I have not changed my ruler name in Utopia. For my province name I just changed the reference from a dwarven reference to an elven (forest) reference.
As an introduction to my Kingdom, I wrote a short story to explain how an elven province came to have a dwarven ruler. I posted the story in the Kingdom’s forum at the beginning of the Age. I can’t remember the reception it received, except that it didn’t start a flurry of role-playing in the Kingdom. Somewhat discouraged, I realized that people played Utopia more for the strategy than anything else, so my role-playing took a backseat. In those early days though I made all my forums posts IC (in character), rarely posting OOC (out of character).
As a bit of Utopia history, in the Third Age, Mehul (the game’s creator) did away with ruler titles. Players were free to prefix their names however they saw fit. The standard titles made their reappearance in a later Age. That bit of history fit well with my story, as I explained how Dhuergar Warhammer would carry no title, having earned none in the eyes of the elves.
My ruler name for the Second Age was Dhuergar Warhammer, a reference to AD&D gray dwarves (duergar) and the Warhammer fantasy world. Plus, the warhammer was often associated with dwarven characters, so that seemed to fit. My province name was just a quick nod to the mythical metal mithril, from Tolkien’s LoTR universe.
When I created my account for the Third Age, I was a little stumped for a ruler name. Then I decided to maintain the one I had used previously, for continuity sake, as well as for role-playing reasons. To this day, I have not changed my ruler name in Utopia. For my province name I just changed the reference from a dwarven reference to an elven (forest) reference.
As an introduction to my Kingdom, I wrote a short story to explain how an elven province came to have a dwarven ruler. I posted the story in the Kingdom’s forum at the beginning of the Age. I can’t remember the reception it received, except that it didn’t start a flurry of role-playing in the Kingdom. Somewhat discouraged, I realized that people played Utopia more for the strategy than anything else, so my role-playing took a backseat. In those early days though I made all my forums posts IC (in character), rarely posting OOC (out of character).
As a bit of Utopia history, in the Third Age, Mehul (the game’s creator) did away with ruler titles. Players were free to prefix their names however they saw fit. The standard titles made their reappearance in a later Age. That bit of history fit well with my story, as I explained how Dhuergar Warhammer would carry no title, having earned none in the eyes of the elves.
31 August 2009
A Beginning in Sight
The storm finally passed. After two days of incessant rain and howling wind, the sun poked its rays through the clouds. Streams of light danced amongst the lingering shadows, bridging earth and sky. To describe the lands in one word was easy - wet.
Dhuergar Warhammer looked down at the rain-soaked fields and forests of his province and smiled. The experiment had worked! The knowledge of the new Storm spell had passed to his province's wizards just recently. There was now an easy counter to the Droughts that would undoubtedly plague his lands in any war, and as a dwarf his fear of Droughts was an especial one.
"Well. It worked." He turned to his friend and advisor who stood next to him.
Qualath kept his gaze on the lands stretched out beyond the battlements of the fort, surveying for any damage done by the storm. "Indeed."
Dhuergar turned from the view and stode towards the tower; Qualath followed a step behind. Dhuergar's brisk pace was easily matched by the half-elf.
"Be sure to have a note of thanks sent to our friend." Wizards from a neighbouring province had aided in the experiment.
"Of course, my lord." Qualath was efficient, and he had no doubts about the success of the new Storm spell; a note had been drafted the day the original agreement was signed. All that remained was for the official seal to be applied, and a rider to deliver it to its destination.
The pair were through the door and climbing down the stairs. "I want reports by this evening."
Qualath nodded in silence. That also had been looked to; forewarning had been given to the appropriate people. Those people were doubtless already gathering the necessary information for their reports. Qualath, however, would have to personally see to it that the war-room was prepared; only one servant was trusted to enter that room, and only when supervised.
At the bottom of the stairs Qualath stopped by Dhuergar's side. "By your leave, my lord."
Dhuergar did not pause in his strides, saying only, "Go, Qualath. No time to be wasted." There they parted ways.
They crossed paths again in the afternoon, Dhuergar almost walking past Qualath in one of the courtyards. Qualath was sitting on a stone bench near the center of the garden, his gaze fixed on a point in front of him. Curious, Dhuergar looked in the direction his friend was facing. There was nothing there; no flowers, no bushes, no statues, no paintings, nothing.
"Hmm." If there was one thing the battle-scarred dwarf knew, it was that his weakness was dealing with what he called the 'softer emotions'. Still, he had many years of experience dealing with other races, and was constantly learning how to deal with them. And though he never considered his old friend 'soft', he knew that Qualath had the heart of an elf. Quiet repose was a part of his character.
Dhuergar approached the bench and sat next to his friend. "Well."
No response.
He tried a more direct tack. "What happened to that elf lady friend of yours?"
Without turning his head, Qualath answered, "She - had to go."
It was a short answer. "I see."
"She was swept off her feet by some elf. A prince I think."
"Oh." So far, by Dhuergar's own reckoning, he was doing very well. "Hmm."
"Not much chance for a half-breed like me to impress her."
"Well, that's her loss." His reply was automatic, but, he also felt, the right one.
A smile threatened to tug the corners of the half-elf's lips up. He half-turned to face the dwarf.
"Of course."
And that was that. Dhuergar slapped his knees enthusiastically, pushed off the bench, and gave his friend a good clap on the shoulder. Just before leaving the courtyard, he stopped and turned to his friend again. "I will see you later then. It was good to talk." That, he felt, was a good finishing touch.
The smile came to Qualath's face finally, as he lowered his head to stare at his hands. "Yes. On both accounts."
And the day continued, as the two most powerful men in the faery province of Voide Knite prepared their followers for war.
Dhuergar Warhammer looked down at the rain-soaked fields and forests of his province and smiled. The experiment had worked! The knowledge of the new Storm spell had passed to his province's wizards just recently. There was now an easy counter to the Droughts that would undoubtedly plague his lands in any war, and as a dwarf his fear of Droughts was an especial one.
"Well. It worked." He turned to his friend and advisor who stood next to him.
Qualath kept his gaze on the lands stretched out beyond the battlements of the fort, surveying for any damage done by the storm. "Indeed."
Dhuergar turned from the view and stode towards the tower; Qualath followed a step behind. Dhuergar's brisk pace was easily matched by the half-elf.
"Be sure to have a note of thanks sent to our friend." Wizards from a neighbouring province had aided in the experiment.
"Of course, my lord." Qualath was efficient, and he had no doubts about the success of the new Storm spell; a note had been drafted the day the original agreement was signed. All that remained was for the official seal to be applied, and a rider to deliver it to its destination.
The pair were through the door and climbing down the stairs. "I want reports by this evening."
Qualath nodded in silence. That also had been looked to; forewarning had been given to the appropriate people. Those people were doubtless already gathering the necessary information for their reports. Qualath, however, would have to personally see to it that the war-room was prepared; only one servant was trusted to enter that room, and only when supervised.
At the bottom of the stairs Qualath stopped by Dhuergar's side. "By your leave, my lord."
Dhuergar did not pause in his strides, saying only, "Go, Qualath. No time to be wasted." There they parted ways.
They crossed paths again in the afternoon, Dhuergar almost walking past Qualath in one of the courtyards. Qualath was sitting on a stone bench near the center of the garden, his gaze fixed on a point in front of him. Curious, Dhuergar looked in the direction his friend was facing. There was nothing there; no flowers, no bushes, no statues, no paintings, nothing.
"Hmm." If there was one thing the battle-scarred dwarf knew, it was that his weakness was dealing with what he called the 'softer emotions'. Still, he had many years of experience dealing with other races, and was constantly learning how to deal with them. And though he never considered his old friend 'soft', he knew that Qualath had the heart of an elf. Quiet repose was a part of his character.
Dhuergar approached the bench and sat next to his friend. "Well."
No response.
He tried a more direct tack. "What happened to that elf lady friend of yours?"
Without turning his head, Qualath answered, "She - had to go."
It was a short answer. "I see."
"She was swept off her feet by some elf. A prince I think."
"Oh." So far, by Dhuergar's own reckoning, he was doing very well. "Hmm."
"Not much chance for a half-breed like me to impress her."
"Well, that's her loss." His reply was automatic, but, he also felt, the right one.
A smile threatened to tug the corners of the half-elf's lips up. He half-turned to face the dwarf.
"Of course."
And that was that. Dhuergar slapped his knees enthusiastically, pushed off the bench, and gave his friend a good clap on the shoulder. Just before leaving the courtyard, he stopped and turned to his friend again. "I will see you later then. It was good to talk." That, he felt, was a good finishing touch.
The smile came to Qualath's face finally, as he lowered his head to stare at his hands. "Yes. On both accounts."
And the day continued, as the two most powerful men in the faery province of Voide Knite prepared their followers for war.
Homeward Bound
The sun rose over the hill, casting brilliant colours upon the valley beyond. The city nestled in the center of the valley was already awake, and so were the surrounding villages. People here rose early to meet the new day. Two figures atop a hillrise looked down with the sun. Watching. Remembering.
"Back home, my lord?" One bearded face looked to another.
"Home?" The dwarf turned and looked up, ever so slightly, at his half-elven friend. "Home, Qualath? What home have we had these past few years? We are wanderers. We have traveled far and wide, moving with a band of believers - " he waved a hand back at the large camp packing up behind him, " - going where there was a need for leadership. Leaving once we heard certain news." At this, he turned and spat on the ground in a show of disgust.
The half-elf, Qualath, listened to his friend and lord. Dhuergar needed this. He needed to be reminded where they were traveling next. And, as his loyal advisor, he was going to make sure Dhuergar was prepared for any emotions that might get in the way of good, sound judgement.
"No, Qualath," the dwarf continued, turning back to face him, "though I am returning to my birthlands, I am not returning home. Though I am returning to the company of a dwarven nation, I am not returning home. My home is here," he thumped his chest over his heart, "and here," he pointed to the earth beneath his feet, "I bring my home with me where I walk. And I welcome you to share it with me!" He broke into a wide smile and gave his friend a hearty slap on the arm. "Come. Let us make our move."
They turned to face the sun and made their way down the hill, leaving the valley behind. Ahead of them was a band of dwarves, elves, halflings, humans, and even faerie-folk! The seasoned dwarven warriors were organizing the final preparations to pack up camp and begin their march. Above them, a flight of griffons twirled in the sky. It was a varied group, but they all had one thing in common. They had all sworn an oath of loyalty to Dhuergar Warhammer.
"You know, it's good to see you in a beard again, Qualath!" Dhuergar's laughter ran down the hill before them, washing over the band known as the Wanderers. It set the mood for the day.
They were leaving behind an elven province, and marching towards the dwarven lands.
A scowl marred the battle scars on Dhuergar's face. "What? Rule by proxy?"
Qualath looked across the table. Dhuergar was still looking down at the maps spread out on the table, but his attention was with his advisor. He had been trained to study maps with half his mind, while focusing on other matters with the other half. It helped on the battlefield.
"Yes. The Overlords will not approve of the Wanderers' intervention here. The Kingdom wants us here, but they will not anger the Overlords. So, you rule by proxy." Qualath's eyes followed Dhuergar as the dwarf went to the large desk on the other side of the room.
"I understand you have...more than a passing acquaintance with one of the Rulers. An elf, if I hear correctly." Qualath could hear the smile in Dhuergar's voice.
"Uh, yes, that's right." Qualath glanced over at the open door. He would have to get someone to look at that; it refused to stay shut.
Dhuergar was silent as he looked out the windows. After some time, he turned back to his friend. "Who here knows?"
"Everyone, my lord."
"Then it's just the Overlords who will not know?" Dhuergar stepped away from the windows and made his way back to the maps.
"Yes."
"Very well. Rule by proxy. For now."
"Of course. If there is nothing else?" Qualath straightened, as was his habit when he was on official business. Dhuergar was his friend, but he was a Ruler.
"No, no. Not at this time. I will be receiving visitors soon. I think you will be free for the rest of the day. If you have anyone to see..." Again, there was the hint of a smile.
Dhuergar looked up into Qualath's face, and could sense the unease there. He smiled at the half-elf, and waved towards the door. Qualath hesitated a while, then nodded at his lord and left the war room.
"Back home, my lord?" One bearded face looked to another.
"Home?" The dwarf turned and looked up, ever so slightly, at his half-elven friend. "Home, Qualath? What home have we had these past few years? We are wanderers. We have traveled far and wide, moving with a band of believers - " he waved a hand back at the large camp packing up behind him, " - going where there was a need for leadership. Leaving once we heard certain news." At this, he turned and spat on the ground in a show of disgust.
The half-elf, Qualath, listened to his friend and lord. Dhuergar needed this. He needed to be reminded where they were traveling next. And, as his loyal advisor, he was going to make sure Dhuergar was prepared for any emotions that might get in the way of good, sound judgement.
"No, Qualath," the dwarf continued, turning back to face him, "though I am returning to my birthlands, I am not returning home. Though I am returning to the company of a dwarven nation, I am not returning home. My home is here," he thumped his chest over his heart, "and here," he pointed to the earth beneath his feet, "I bring my home with me where I walk. And I welcome you to share it with me!" He broke into a wide smile and gave his friend a hearty slap on the arm. "Come. Let us make our move."
They turned to face the sun and made their way down the hill, leaving the valley behind. Ahead of them was a band of dwarves, elves, halflings, humans, and even faerie-folk! The seasoned dwarven warriors were organizing the final preparations to pack up camp and begin their march. Above them, a flight of griffons twirled in the sky. It was a varied group, but they all had one thing in common. They had all sworn an oath of loyalty to Dhuergar Warhammer.
"You know, it's good to see you in a beard again, Qualath!" Dhuergar's laughter ran down the hill before them, washing over the band known as the Wanderers. It set the mood for the day.
They were leaving behind an elven province, and marching towards the dwarven lands.
A scowl marred the battle scars on Dhuergar's face. "What? Rule by proxy?"
Qualath looked across the table. Dhuergar was still looking down at the maps spread out on the table, but his attention was with his advisor. He had been trained to study maps with half his mind, while focusing on other matters with the other half. It helped on the battlefield.
"Yes. The Overlords will not approve of the Wanderers' intervention here. The Kingdom wants us here, but they will not anger the Overlords. So, you rule by proxy." Qualath's eyes followed Dhuergar as the dwarf went to the large desk on the other side of the room.
"I understand you have...more than a passing acquaintance with one of the Rulers. An elf, if I hear correctly." Qualath could hear the smile in Dhuergar's voice.
"Uh, yes, that's right." Qualath glanced over at the open door. He would have to get someone to look at that; it refused to stay shut.
Dhuergar was silent as he looked out the windows. After some time, he turned back to his friend. "Who here knows?"
"Everyone, my lord."
"Then it's just the Overlords who will not know?" Dhuergar stepped away from the windows and made his way back to the maps.
"Yes."
"Very well. Rule by proxy. For now."
"Of course. If there is nothing else?" Qualath straightened, as was his habit when he was on official business. Dhuergar was his friend, but he was a Ruler.
"No, no. Not at this time. I will be receiving visitors soon. I think you will be free for the rest of the day. If you have anyone to see..." Again, there was the hint of a smile.
Dhuergar looked up into Qualath's face, and could sense the unease there. He smiled at the half-elf, and waved towards the door. Qualath hesitated a while, then nodded at his lord and left the war room.
The Dawn of Sylvan Hold
A tale you seek, is it? Hmm. I have a good one for you then. Come, take a seat. Let me tell you of Dhuergar Warhammer and the Utopian province of Sylvan Hold.
In the previous age of Utopia, there was a province named Mithrils Hold. It was a young province, with not much history in the second age. Yet, however brief its appearance in the Kingdom of The Second Empire, there were many in the lands of Utopia that would sing its praises. But what of this province, you ask? What has it to do with the province of Sylvan Hold? Was it not a dwarven province? Right you are.
Here is how we, the people of Sylvan Hold, tell this tale:
It was dark when the riders entered the elven fort. The lead rider dismounted and quickly entered the fort. He walked quickly, his cloak still draped over him, the hood pulled up, hiding his face in shadow. The soldiers standing guard throughout the fort snapped to attention at the sight of him walking the halls. The clasp on his cloak was easily identifiable, and so was the decorated hilt of his sword peaking through the folds of cloth that hid his frame. Even so, his long and quick strides were enough to identify the man as Qualath, personal advisor and right-hand man to Sir Dhuergar Warhammer. This was the second most powerful person in the province of Mithrils Hold. Though he was not dwarven, it was rumored that he was the next in line to rule Mithrils Hold. And there weren't many dwarves that would not accept him.
When the doors to the throne room opened, the second most powerful man in Mithrils Hold entered and went down on one knee. The only person he would kneel to gestured to him and called him to the side of the room.
"My lord."
"My friend, it is good to have you back. I could use some advice right about now. What news?"
Qualath sighed as he pulled his hood down and unfastened his cloak. "There is no easy way to say this."
Dhuergar glanced up at his most trusted advisor, the half-elf that saved his life so many years ago. He had feared that the news was not going to be good. Several weeks earlier he had received a message from a neighbouring elven province with which his own province had good relations. The two rulers had become close friends over the period of several years, and on more than one occasion, he had sent his berserkers to the elven province in military aid. The message did not come from his friend, but rather from one of his council advisors. The message was a short one, explaining that Sir Dhuergar Warhammer's presence was desperately required. It was grave indeed and he wasted no time responding to the summons.
Upon arriving at the elven province with his entourage, it was revealed that his good friend had been murdered at the hands of plundering orcs. The elves were not a strong military force and they were not prepared for a strike deep in their territory. Now their province was in disarray and they needed help. Fearing that the roving orcs might still be nearby, Dhuergar ordered his most trusted advisor to return to his province and oversee preparations for a search and destroy mission. Dhuergar himself remained with his personal guard to assess the chances of the elven province.
Now, his friend and advisor returned from his own province.
"It wasn't random, was it?"
Qualath lowered his eyes. There was no easy way, but he so wanted to save his friend from the anguish and pain that was sure to follow his news. "No. It was well-organized, beautifully orchestrated. Trolls from the north hit our search parties first. Then the magical assault began. Orcs attacked from everywhere. We couldn't regroup in time. It was your father's old nemesis."
"You are sure." It did not come out as a question.
"Yes. The pennants they flew were as those described. Some of the older dwarves would attest to this fact."
Dhuergar waved a hand at Qualath. "I do not doubt you." He paused to gather himself. "Mithrils Hold?"
"I am sorry." Qualath bowed his head.
Dhuergar's fist slammed down on the table. "Damn." Sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it aside. He still had problems to solve. Later, he would have time to mourn. "The elves here have asked me to lead them."
"I know."
"It comes as no surprise to you? You knew then."
"It was the only course of action from their standpoint. There is no one else in line to lead them, unless you go outside ordinary sources. Also, their mystics probably foresaw some version of what you would be put through."
"Yes. And they saved me so I could lead them."
Qualath nodded. "There is much that is different about leading elves and leading dwarves."
Coming from anyone else, that would have been an insulting remark. From Qualath, it was a reminder. "I already know."
"You accept then?"
"Yes. Now we must save as much from Mithrils Hold as we can."
"There are two marches behind me. All that is left, all who survived the onslaught are on the way here."
"Very well then. Now begins a new history. The history of Sylvan Hold."
"My lord, the elves...they will not recognize your human title of Sir, nor your dwarven title of Thane."
"I know. Here, I am simply - Dhuergar Warhammer."
In the previous age of Utopia, there was a province named Mithrils Hold. It was a young province, with not much history in the second age. Yet, however brief its appearance in the Kingdom of The Second Empire, there were many in the lands of Utopia that would sing its praises. But what of this province, you ask? What has it to do with the province of Sylvan Hold? Was it not a dwarven province? Right you are.
Here is how we, the people of Sylvan Hold, tell this tale:
It was dark when the riders entered the elven fort. The lead rider dismounted and quickly entered the fort. He walked quickly, his cloak still draped over him, the hood pulled up, hiding his face in shadow. The soldiers standing guard throughout the fort snapped to attention at the sight of him walking the halls. The clasp on his cloak was easily identifiable, and so was the decorated hilt of his sword peaking through the folds of cloth that hid his frame. Even so, his long and quick strides were enough to identify the man as Qualath, personal advisor and right-hand man to Sir Dhuergar Warhammer. This was the second most powerful person in the province of Mithrils Hold. Though he was not dwarven, it was rumored that he was the next in line to rule Mithrils Hold. And there weren't many dwarves that would not accept him.
When the doors to the throne room opened, the second most powerful man in Mithrils Hold entered and went down on one knee. The only person he would kneel to gestured to him and called him to the side of the room.
"My lord."
"My friend, it is good to have you back. I could use some advice right about now. What news?"
Qualath sighed as he pulled his hood down and unfastened his cloak. "There is no easy way to say this."
Dhuergar glanced up at his most trusted advisor, the half-elf that saved his life so many years ago. He had feared that the news was not going to be good. Several weeks earlier he had received a message from a neighbouring elven province with which his own province had good relations. The two rulers had become close friends over the period of several years, and on more than one occasion, he had sent his berserkers to the elven province in military aid. The message did not come from his friend, but rather from one of his council advisors. The message was a short one, explaining that Sir Dhuergar Warhammer's presence was desperately required. It was grave indeed and he wasted no time responding to the summons.
Upon arriving at the elven province with his entourage, it was revealed that his good friend had been murdered at the hands of plundering orcs. The elves were not a strong military force and they were not prepared for a strike deep in their territory. Now their province was in disarray and they needed help. Fearing that the roving orcs might still be nearby, Dhuergar ordered his most trusted advisor to return to his province and oversee preparations for a search and destroy mission. Dhuergar himself remained with his personal guard to assess the chances of the elven province.
Now, his friend and advisor returned from his own province.
"It wasn't random, was it?"
Qualath lowered his eyes. There was no easy way, but he so wanted to save his friend from the anguish and pain that was sure to follow his news. "No. It was well-organized, beautifully orchestrated. Trolls from the north hit our search parties first. Then the magical assault began. Orcs attacked from everywhere. We couldn't regroup in time. It was your father's old nemesis."
"You are sure." It did not come out as a question.
"Yes. The pennants they flew were as those described. Some of the older dwarves would attest to this fact."
Dhuergar waved a hand at Qualath. "I do not doubt you." He paused to gather himself. "Mithrils Hold?"
"I am sorry." Qualath bowed his head.
Dhuergar's fist slammed down on the table. "Damn." Sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it aside. He still had problems to solve. Later, he would have time to mourn. "The elves here have asked me to lead them."
"I know."
"It comes as no surprise to you? You knew then."
"It was the only course of action from their standpoint. There is no one else in line to lead them, unless you go outside ordinary sources. Also, their mystics probably foresaw some version of what you would be put through."
"Yes. And they saved me so I could lead them."
Qualath nodded. "There is much that is different about leading elves and leading dwarves."
Coming from anyone else, that would have been an insulting remark. From Qualath, it was a reminder. "I already know."
"You accept then?"
"Yes. Now we must save as much from Mithrils Hold as we can."
"There are two marches behind me. All that is left, all who survived the onslaught are on the way here."
"Very well then. Now begins a new history. The history of Sylvan Hold."
"My lord, the elves...they will not recognize your human title of Sir, nor your dwarven title of Thane."
"I know. Here, I am simply - Dhuergar Warhammer."
About Utopia stories
Utopia is one of the oldest browser-based multiplayer games, coming online in January 1999. In its heyday it could claim to be “massively” multiplayer, drawing over 100,000 players (more or less, depending on who you ask). It won the Webby Gaming Site of the Year Award twice, in 2002 and 2003. Being a text-based game, with an interface that hasn’t changed much since its first days, Utopia may not appeal to the gaming masses who are more graphically-inclined and for whom World of Warcraft and its ilk are true representations of massively multiplayer online games. Nevertheless, Utopia has its following.
I was introduced to the game by my cousin, and was first attracted by the traditional fantasy RPG background. So much so that I wrote a story as an introduction to my in-game avatar. Of course, my naiveté was met with complete silence on the Forums for my Kingdom. Good thing I took an interest in the strategy of the game, otherwise I would probably have abandoned the game.
The story-writing was actually inspired by a collaborative-writing-cum-role-playing experience I had back in 1995, at The Dragon’s Inn. The Dragon’s Inn was a newsgroup on Usenet (alt.dragons-inn or alt.pub.dragons-inn) for role-players who would maneuver their own characters through collaborative adventures. I mostly just read the various entries posted to that listserv, but I did de-lurk to introduce my own character. The Dragon’s Inn was the birthplace of Lothaq, which became my alter-ego on the net, and also used as my nom de plume.
I’ve only written three Utopia-related stories, and they were all beginning of Age stories. The first two were shared with my kingdom-mates, while the last was written just for my own amusement, although it was also published at my GeoCities site. None had titles previously, and I even recorded them with just the Age number. I’ve given them titles for posting here, and will reveal the timeline in my backstories.
I was introduced to the game by my cousin, and was first attracted by the traditional fantasy RPG background. So much so that I wrote a story as an introduction to my in-game avatar. Of course, my naiveté was met with complete silence on the Forums for my Kingdom. Good thing I took an interest in the strategy of the game, otherwise I would probably have abandoned the game.
The story-writing was actually inspired by a collaborative-writing-cum-role-playing experience I had back in 1995, at The Dragon’s Inn. The Dragon’s Inn was a newsgroup on Usenet (alt.dragons-inn or alt.pub.dragons-inn) for role-players who would maneuver their own characters through collaborative adventures. I mostly just read the various entries posted to that listserv, but I did de-lurk to introduce my own character. The Dragon’s Inn was the birthplace of Lothaq, which became my alter-ego on the net, and also used as my nom de plume.
I’ve only written three Utopia-related stories, and they were all beginning of Age stories. The first two were shared with my kingdom-mates, while the last was written just for my own amusement, although it was also published at my GeoCities site. None had titles previously, and I even recorded them with just the Age number. I’ve given them titles for posting here, and will reveal the timeline in my backstories.
25 August 2009
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
I just finished reading The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold last Friday. The weekend earlier my sis had recommended it to me, after telling me about the upcoming film adaptation. The movie is directed by Peter Jackson, and is due out at the end of the year. I’ll admit that the association of an A-list director with the story piqued my interest. So my sis pulled out her copy of the book and handed it over to me. It doesn’t take much to get me interested in reading a book, but I did read the back cover before deciding to turn its pages immediately instead of putting it in a “maybe” pile.
The Lovely Bones tells its story in an unconventional way. The story is narrated by the – shall we say – spirit of a teenaged girl who has been raped and murdered, and now watches her family, friends and even her murderer from her personal heaven. The entire novel is narrated by our protagonist, Susie Salmon – no, not Simon; like the fish – from her unrestricted vantage point above us in heaven. The free-floating nature of our protagonist allows the narrative voice to follow any and all characters through space and time, but we are still giving gentle reminders that the narrator and the protagonist are one and the same. Susie’s viewpoint sprinkles our study of the world, and we get a sense for her priorities and her emotional stake in the characters we – both reader and narrator – observe.
This is not a whodunit, since we know from the very beginning who Susie’s murderer is. Neither is this a tale of vengeance or otherworldly retribution, although, in one delicious piece of foreshadowing, there is room for interpretation in the role played by that “perfect murder” weapon. In fact, when Susie is granted the chance to impart damning and conclusive evidence that would catch her killer, she instead indulges in those pleasures denied her by circumstance of her death.
No, this is not a mystery waiting to be solved. This is a tale about grief, and moving on, and how different people deal with loss as individuals, as a family, as a community. Those left on Earth aren’t the only ones coming to terms with the abrupt ending of a life. Susie, too, has her own journey wherein she has to accept her condition and that those she loved will also need to move on with their lives.
The Lovely Bones is a powerful novel, and its message creeps up on us as it does our protagonist. Susie and her family discover through the period of the novel that unexpected loss happens, and the only way past it is to remember those still with us. It is a good lesson for us, the reader. Honour those we have lost by living our lives to the fullest.
I’ll end this review by echoing Susie’s parting words to us, the reader: “I wish you all a long and happy life.”
The Lovely Bones tells its story in an unconventional way. The story is narrated by the – shall we say – spirit of a teenaged girl who has been raped and murdered, and now watches her family, friends and even her murderer from her personal heaven. The entire novel is narrated by our protagonist, Susie Salmon – no, not Simon; like the fish – from her unrestricted vantage point above us in heaven. The free-floating nature of our protagonist allows the narrative voice to follow any and all characters through space and time, but we are still giving gentle reminders that the narrator and the protagonist are one and the same. Susie’s viewpoint sprinkles our study of the world, and we get a sense for her priorities and her emotional stake in the characters we – both reader and narrator – observe.
This is not a whodunit, since we know from the very beginning who Susie’s murderer is. Neither is this a tale of vengeance or otherworldly retribution, although, in one delicious piece of foreshadowing, there is room for interpretation in the role played by that “perfect murder” weapon. In fact, when Susie is granted the chance to impart damning and conclusive evidence that would catch her killer, she instead indulges in those pleasures denied her by circumstance of her death.
No, this is not a mystery waiting to be solved. This is a tale about grief, and moving on, and how different people deal with loss as individuals, as a family, as a community. Those left on Earth aren’t the only ones coming to terms with the abrupt ending of a life. Susie, too, has her own journey wherein she has to accept her condition and that those she loved will also need to move on with their lives.
The Lovely Bones is a powerful novel, and its message creeps up on us as it does our protagonist. Susie and her family discover through the period of the novel that unexpected loss happens, and the only way past it is to remember those still with us. It is a good lesson for us, the reader. Honour those we have lost by living our lives to the fullest.
I’ll end this review by echoing Susie’s parting words to us, the reader: “I wish you all a long and happy life.”
24 August 2009
About “The Keys”
“The Keys” is a much more autobiographical story compared to “A Crazy World”. The protagonist and I share many similarities, both in personality and circumstance. For example, both of us are sentimental people. That’s about all that I will confirm publicly though.
There is a link between “The Keys” and “A Crazy World”, as they both deal with a disappointment in my life. “The Keys”, however, deals directly with my sense of loss, instead of skirting the issue. At the time I wrote the story in early 2002, I was acutely aware that some part of me still felt a longing for the way things were in the past. Writing the story let me express that feeling.
It should be noted that though there are many parallels to real life, this is still a piece of fiction. Events and circumstances described are not exact parallels of what happened to me, but instead are meant to capture the essence of what transpired in real life. Similarly, there are embellishments to characterizations, meant only to make “The Keys” work as a better story.
Having said that, I do believe that one should write about what one knows. There must be something in the story that you can relate to closely, so that the writing is sincere. That’s what I did with “The Keys”; I wrote to capture my sense of loss and longing.
I’ve made one edit to the original version. In the third paragraph, I replaced “sad” with “cheerless”, since the original was redundant. It now reads:
I think it reads better with this slight edit.
To the person this story is about, you may have read the story now. It is history now, and I’m glad we can move past it.
There is a link between “The Keys” and “A Crazy World”, as they both deal with a disappointment in my life. “The Keys”, however, deals directly with my sense of loss, instead of skirting the issue. At the time I wrote the story in early 2002, I was acutely aware that some part of me still felt a longing for the way things were in the past. Writing the story let me express that feeling.
It should be noted that though there are many parallels to real life, this is still a piece of fiction. Events and circumstances described are not exact parallels of what happened to me, but instead are meant to capture the essence of what transpired in real life. Similarly, there are embellishments to characterizations, meant only to make “The Keys” work as a better story.
Having said that, I do believe that one should write about what one knows. There must be something in the story that you can relate to closely, so that the writing is sincere. That’s what I did with “The Keys”; I wrote to capture my sense of loss and longing.
I’ve made one edit to the original version. In the third paragraph, I replaced “sad” with “cheerless”, since the original was redundant. It now reads:
… I’ve never seen my own sad smile. I can’t bear to look in a mirror when I think of her for fear I might see her standing next to me. A friend of mine described it for me: cheerless, nostalgic. I guess I’m a sentimental kind of guy.
I think it reads better with this slight edit.
To the person this story is about, you may have read the story now. It is history now, and I’m glad we can move past it.
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