Lionman's Stories

Background: Forge

2007-11-19T17:04:21Z

Forge doesn’t remember so much about where he came from. As a young lawman, he ran afoul a witch of sorts.

As a Justicar, these lawmen are empowered to be judge, jury and executioner when the situation called for it. When you get out into the wilds, with a small settlement, sometimes they’re all the law there is. A Justicar has to be an instituation that is respected.

Unfortunately, a Justicar isn’t all-seeing and all-knowing. They can, and occasionally do, make mistakes. This mistake cost a young woman her life. The young woman’s grandmother did not take kindly to Forge’s mistake, and placed a curse upon him.

Several weeks later, another Justicar found Forge, wandering in the wilderness. He couldn’t remember a great number of details, but more than that, he could not speak. The witch had taken his voice from him, that he might not speak the death of another innocent again.

This was, of course hard on the lawman. But, he bore this burden and it served to keep him mindful of just what his job was.

Introduction: Forge and Penn

2007-11-19T16:55:51Z

Forge was a Draxian. They were an offshoot of the Gnolls, but unlike their dirty, less-than-civiliazed cousins, the Canis had risen above their baser instincts. They knew that there were ways to live in peace, that the land could offer some of their needs, and they didn’t need to simply TAKE what they wanted.

However, they often lived in what the other races considered backwater ways. Still somewhat nomadic, they would move when the season required, or when the land needed a rest.

This is about Forge, a Justicar for the government of the nation. But not a Justicar assigned to a territory, like a roaming sherrif to help local law enforcement, but one who was tasked with roaming to keep the peace, and troubleshoot. A top-gun of the Justicars; with only a step or two between him and the King.

Forge didn’t do this alone, he had his Deputey, Penzalen; a devoute follow of the Deity Valleron. Penn was an Ursar, a large, bear-like creature, who was nearly as good with his scatter-gun as his very sharp axe.

Hiding in the Sub-Levels

2007-11-02T03:43:48Z

People don’t go to the sub-levels of the city any more. It’s simply too dangerous. The escaped Recoms lived there, or so the story goes. It’s probably just a wives tale, perpetuated by the authorities to keep curious teens out of there.

However, there was some truth to it. Unfortunately, Anthony was going to find that out the hard way. He slipped passed the opening the sewer grate and slinked into the shadows. Ignoring the smell, he remained still as the pipe and bat toting pursuers started to make their way by.

A couple paused and peered into the tunnel for a few long seconds, then turned and moved on. Anthony breathed again as he leaned against the wall.

If he went out there, they’d just find him again. He’ll have to lay low and try later. He started to inch his way further into the pipe, already up to his knees in sewage. “I’ve got to keep this data safe,” he whispered to himself.

He found a ledge in a small junction. Huddling there, he tried to rest. It was then he realized he wasn’t alone.

J-Zero-Three-L (J03L - Joel)

2007-11-02T03:25:01Z

They’re called Recoms. It stands for Recombined DNA .

Condemmed by any passing gathering of an group with an ethical bone to pick, they were outlawed by most any recognized treaty in the last half of the 22nd Century. Nonetheless, they were made.

Built in test tubes by geeky scientists, never really meaning to play God, or even claiming to. These creatures were based on Terran animals with human DNA introduce to guide their evolution. During the process, they were never allowed to be passible as human. They weren’t even 2nd Class Citizens, they were property. Nothing more than slaves.

They didn’t really know otherwise. The Recoms were highly controlled, taught what to think, to do, focused, kept on task. If one showed any sign of creative thought, it was either re-educated, or re-cycled. Neither was pleasant.

J-Zero-Three-L would lay awake at night, staring up in the darkness of the barracks. His mind wandered. He knew what would happen if they knew. Joel said nothing to let them know. “Why?”

Bullseye

2007-11-02T03:12:09Z

Tink, tink, tink, tink went the tell-tale sound of weapons-fire bounceding off the armored mecha. Johnny half-growled to himself as he pushed the control forward while turning and increasing his thrust.

Excited Argon-gass allowed Johnny to unleashed a pulsed laser beam in response to the ineffective projectiles. It lashed out across the blackness of space and passed under the right arm of the intended target. However, Johnny simply walked it right into the bullseye.

The reactor of the smaller mecha was breached and soon cascaded into critical mass. Within moments, the white flash of the explosion errupted and crossed the expanse to Johnny’s Razorback, throwing the robotic ship into a tumbling spin.

Withing the cockpit Johnny reacted, trying to compensate for the three dimensional movement of the mecha. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself into his chair as he worked the controls. “Those little things pack a punch when you blow them up…” he muttered into his open comm channel.

Inspiration

2007-11-01T13:47:54Z

David adjusted his glasses and stared at the laptop screen. He poked the inspiration button and started to enter in keywords one after the other: space, spaceship, spacecraft, starship, shuttle.

The images that came up time and time again were not really, ...inspiring to him. “Spacestation, perhaps?” he thought, but that didn’t yield anything that prompted his muse. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed a deep, long sigh, tinged with disappointment.

He gazed out the window, across the land as the morning rays of sunlight slowly crept across the green grass. Little by little, the shadows retreated against the onslaught of light.

Dreaming of places, things and times that were not his own, David thought that writting these really short fictions would be fun. They were. He only need a little spark to give him enough words to fill the little box with text. It’s just that this morning, it wasn’t coming easily.

Without warning, the floodgates opened, and he typed a title: Emergency Stations!

Morning Sun

2007-11-01T13:13:49Z

The rays of golden sunlight reached out over the horizon and touched Top Paw’s fur as he laid there on the walkway around the top of the abandoned control tower. Its warmth crept into his fur, making it all the more comfortable a place to sleep that morning.

Last night he’d gotten here just in time to let go and shift into a werewolf as he always did during the full moon. By the morning he’d returned to the canine form he was born to. It wasn’t the warm rays of the sun or the slight breeze that blew over him that really woke him, but rather the caress of a hand on his fur that jolted his thoughts to a more focused state.

The German Shepard-Wolf mix opened one eye to look up and see just who was petting him. A child looked down at him. Top Paw thought the child looked odd, his clothes were not quite right and he realized they were older, probably from 1972 not 2007. The realization made him close his eyes tightly and groan. Another lost child, another ghost who hadn’t found where he was supposed to go.

Warm Mission

2007-11-01T12:56:46Z

Sarah made her way through the rain towards that red neon sign above the run down church. She scampered up into the overhang of the front doors, but they were massive and seemed cold to her. She gripped at the handle and tugged, but it didn’t budge.

She turned and leaned against the door. She was cold, wet and afraid The one who’d saved her said there was a place for her here. It was then that the smell of something caught her attention. Looking around to find the source, Sarah spotted the lights in the basement.

She dashed down the short flight of stairs and under another overhang keeping the doorway of a much smaller, warmer and inviting door. Gripping the handle of the door, it was warm to the touch and soon opened easily as she pulled it.

From inside a flood of warmth and light rushed against her. She stood in the doorway for a long moment as her eyes readjusted. When they did, she found a number of people looking back at her, paused from their meals to see just what had come in from the rain.

Into a Dark Alley

2007-11-01T12:48:11Z

Downtown at night with a storm coming on, is not where a young woman should be. Business’ had long since moved out, and most buildings were abandoned, un-maintained, or slated for demolition.

Sarah was in trouble. Her clothes torn, she ran roughshod down the street, looking for help. And not too far behind, a band of hoodlums hooting, hollering, and shouting their catcalls. They wanted to have their way with Sarah, and she’d thought perhaps she could make some money on the side, show a guy a good time, you know, easy money. She’d gotten more than she bargained for.

No one heeded her cries, and the boys weren’t going to heed her plea’s to stop. They only continued to chase her mercilessly. In her distraught state, she made a misstep, and turned down an alley, away from the main street.

Falling on her knees, clutching the top of her dress, Sarah’s tears were lost in the rain. And soon her pursuers surrounded her. “Please, help.” she whispered. These two soft, quite words did not go unheard.

Over the Edge

2007-11-01T01:38:04Z

Marten almost jumped when the comm barked at him. “Yes S-sir!” he stammered out in return. He took several more breathes as he screwed his courage down tight.

Looking down the line of men, he could see they were scared, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that. Every time a particularly shrill scream pierced the air, several men cringed.

“Men! Unpack your ultrasonics!” Marten half-screamed over the horrifying sounds of battle. One by one, they pulled out the special equipment they’d been given and broke the seals as they opened them. Uncertain, each man put the masks on and secured them down snug.

One man cursed as he realized that his package took a hit earlier. He’d face the Psykers without it now.

Soft clicks followed, one after the other, immediately accompanied by a rising pitch as the systems warmed up. From inside each mask, green illumination bathed each man’s eyes as he adjusted to the new images presented.

With a motion of his hand, Martin commed, “Over the edge, boys…”

One against One

2007-11-01T00:11:29Z

Xan’s eyes watched the clone of Verin closely, his eyes never blinking, his gaze fixed. The two spoke no words, simply breathed steadily as they watched one another.

Ever so gently, Verin shifted the position of his fingers. Xan eased his hand down inches away from his holster, and the lightsaber fixed to the front of it.

A prickle upon the back of his neck, Xan knew Verin would move. The Force Surging, Xan lept as Verin’s lightsaber jumped from its place on his belt and into his hand. It ignited between that position and where Xan once stood, though it found no purchase, only empty space where Xan had been.

A flick of his wrist as he summersaulted through the air, Xan’s own lightsaber ignited as it too lept into his hand. Upon landing, he spun around and faced the Dark Jedi with a determined look.

Verin chuckled a deep, ominus reply in amusement, “This may be more interesting that I had thought.” The clone shifted his stance.

Xan could hear his mother’s voice, “I will bend like the reed.”

In the Darkness

2007-10-31T22:20:25Z

Xan had gone down to the shuttle bay to retrieve his toolbox. The lighting was minimal, which left eerie shadows playing across the walls and ship. As he made it to the top of the ramp of his ship, he paused. The back of his neck prickled. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t quite get a feel for what it was.

Spying his toolbox, he snatched it up with one hand before he turned and made his way back down the ramp. Xan was cautious, but he would not let fear control him. Something moved in a shadow. “Hello..” he called out towards the darkness.

A chuckle came as the reply, “Hello..Karthane.”

Xan stopped as feelings he’d not sensed in years started to well up inside him. He held his breath for a moment and slowly exhaled as his mother’s voice drifted through his mind, “I will be like the reed. I will bend in the wind. I will not break as the storm rushes around me. My root is strong. I will bend with the wind.”

Slowly, Xan set down his toolbox, “I Xan, not Karthane,” he said pointedly.