#*writes a book that becomes known as the pinnacle of the fantasy genre* “this is a disaster” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thekidultlife · 4 years ago

Text

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate! AU (1)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 4.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to writeopinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

AN OPINION ON THE SOULMATE BOND by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, August 17

If the appeal of romance and the idea that a person whose devotion to us shall surpass eternity exists in our midst, among the younger generations, if there was any doubt in this matter, then the recent excitement for the coming Soulmate Bonding Ceremony is its colorful illustration. Alas, our dear friends of the State! It is once again time for the great and olden tradition of Soulmate Bonding. Here in this land of abundance and prosperity which gifts are said to be owed to this venerable ceremony, we must lay upon our trust and our fate to ancient magic, which we wholly believe shall lead our hearts to our destined soulmate--our lifetime partner, the other half of our soul, and so on.

Yet our dear readers, allow this humble editor to argue the opposite.

It is established that the magic of Soulmate Bonding allows two persons, at most random strangers, to be paired together for a lifetime; sharing either emotions, thoughts or senses. Such a practice has always been placed under a rose-colored light by the government which, if simplified in broad terms is, in our opinion, a blatant propaganda for an obsolete tradition which endangers the wellbeing of our citizens, a practice which limits responsibility and free will, core values of which this land has been founded upon.

If we shall suppose that a relationship between soulmates is perfect and blessed upon by the great heavens, then cases of arguments and cases of abuses would not exist as pests of our society, the destroyer of families and the trauma of children. If soulmate relationships are the pinnacle of success in family life, then divorce laws do not have any purpose to exist in our civil code, as custody battles do not have a place in our respectable courts. We are all blinded by the garish lighting provided by this dictatorship; through their flowery and romanticised propaganda we hear in the radios everyday as we sit down for breakfast or as we enjoy our pudding after dinner. This poor excuse of a government which has deceived its own people, seeks absolute authority through the most invasive ways known to man, inside the most intimate partnership a human being could experience in their entire life.

By consuming this tomfoolery, we become puppets to romance, to impossible dreams, thus vulnerable to the mandates of this dictatorship. It is said that men, whose eyes are set high above the heavens, are doomed to fall off the cliff’s edge. There ought to be balance between idealism and pragmatism, lest we suffer the consequences of our own torn expectations of a perfect relationship and a good life. By relinquishing our right to choose, to exercise free will, we then must forget our roles as individuals, solely responsible for the effects of our choices. We then shall blame it on neutral magic, on fate and the Universe, the mistakes of our own doing. Aye indeed, let us ought to create the most convenient escape from our own flaws and our indecisiveness. Let us forever be destined to depend our lives upon the forces of the Universe, upon accidents of Nature!...

You smelled like ink.

The ugly, artificial scent of a printing press; ink. You had it on your hands as well, catching a freshly pressed newspaper as the midnight breeze blew upon a stack by the window. It was late yet the machine kept whirring, pressing, printing as piles of paper grew into hills and mountains of South Porta Persa.

It would truly be unlucky to trip and make a mess of everything right now, you thought, inspecting the warm paper for any misspelt words or misaligned layouts with a careful eye.

“Good enough for' ya, darlin’?” A voice deep and rumbling interrupted your close inspection, his tone mischievous and mirthful as he wiped his hands clean on his trusty apron, the metal wrenches on it clattering about.

It was good ole’ Jupiter, the ruler of the mechanical movable type in grand Porta Persa, a man late in his forties with a receding hairline to match. You had always liked him since you were a child, in his long beard and ink stained hands, and his various adventures at sea in his large Galleon. Yet now he is a master of the press, and you were his client.

Giving a satisfied smile, you shrugged, placing the newspaper on top a stack without minding.

"Better than anywhere else, my good Sir," you replied, a trace of a laugh hinting to escape. "Nowhere I can trust The Porta Persa Edition to anyone other than in your expert hands."

He chuckled, his belly rumbling; just as anyone named 'Jupiter' should be. "Then I'm honered lass! As I'm honored to be Alex Fireflower's avid reader!"

"Oh stop flattering me," you chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Ah, it seems quite late now, isn't it? I better go."

Jupiter nodded. "Aye lass, you're movin' to the Academy tomorrow, innit? Ya should hurry home now before anyone catches ya!"

"Aye, captain!" You replied in a singsong voice, quickly moving to the exit. "Oh and please tell Soonyoung, if he comes over later in the morning that I need help with the bags! Thanks, Jupiter! May Jove kiss you on the asscheeks!"

Kissing his cheek goodbye, you bounced down the stairs as you heard him bark in laughter and raced back to the home you have been staying since you were a child. Even as a daughter of the city alchemist, you lived humbly with your father in a two-story house with a style akin to stale bread. Yet he was usually absent, either in the homes of the sick or in some faraway place hunting ingredients for his potions. It didn't matter to you anyway.

Snuck behind the back door, you eventually reached your room and lit a gaslamp on your otherwise messy desk full of paper and books. It never gets cleaned up in some way or another, you thought.

Sitting on your bed, you watched the glittering lights of Porta Persa at midnight, wondering if Alex Fireflower's words in that widely popular newspaper would lit a fire in people's hearts. Despite your young age, being a writer in a prolific paper was anxiety inducing, knowing how much words could stir up a person's sentiments.

From afar, you could hear a faint melody of a love song between lovers, soulmates. A concept you disdainfully look down upon, if your writings were any indication to that. The bonding ceremony never sat well with you. You never understood those who excitedly and eagerly surrender their life to the whims of coincidence and then live to become happy. It was either a pretense or an 'anyone will do' type of situation.

"Oh, isn't the ceremony later in the morning?" You remarked, peaking at the calendar on your desk. You shrugged.

In any case, you have been prepared to deny this unwelcome intruder. It took a while to research but there were ways to suppress the connection between soulmates, mostly elaborate spellwork and potions. Yet you have been ready for years, almost a decade: casting spell upon spell on yourself and drinking disgusting potions, truly glad that you had an alchemist for a father. Now nothing will stand in the way between you and your aspirations.

Getting a bit sleepy, you snuck in your sleeping gown and laid on the bed. Closing your eyes, and for once, leaving the rest for the Universe's turn in this game of chance.

The next thing you came to was a dull throb on your head, something akin to a mediocre hangover, and a loud rapping on your front door. It was late in the morning. The birds were chirping, the loud clattering of bustling human activity and Soonyoung’s rather energetic shouting on your front door was grating on your ears.

You tried to think of any reason why you were particularly not feeling a hundred percent today yet was once again interrupted by Soonyoung calling you out.

Rolling off your bed however, made everything come crashing down on you. You lurched on the floor, thinking about throwing up yet none came, only your empty coughs and an uncomfortable pressure on your diaphragm were there. Your limbs were weak and trembled as you tried to lift your leg up, inevitably stumbling back to the floor and hitting your back against the bedpost in a painful thud.

What is this…?

In your pain, you grit your teeth, unable to utter anything with your dry throat. You tried to massage your temples to alleviate the throbbing, yet that was the exact moment you realized what was actually happening. With eyes as wide as saucers and a heart rate that seemed to increase in great increments, a cold sweat ran down your spine as you saw what was on your wrist. A cynical grin on your lips, you scoffed at the chances.

“...dammit,” you squeezed out, glancing at the bracelet-like tattoo around your wrist, in its clear straight horizontal bars and iridescent shine whenever you turned it around. You almost laughed at how ridiculous things were. Your greatest nightmare has happened while you were asleep. A bond has been formed.

Finally having some sort of clarity, you were suddenly feeling much better, knowing what to do next. Dragging out a chest underneath your bed, you fished out a concoction which would weaken the suppressants you had induced upon yourself over the years.

This was the side effect, you considered as you took the potion in one swallow. The suppressants would make you feel terribly ill, more so because this was day zero of the bond, but it will effectively block out the connection. On the other hand, you can weaken the blockage, yet it would as well restore the connection between you and your soulmate.

You cringed at the thought, yet there was no other choice. Today was moving day and you knew, without a doubt, that left alone for any longer, Soonyoung would break into your house, worrying something had happened to you. Something did happen, yet it was none of his concern.

And speaking of the devil, there he was rushing into your room; panting and sweaty from probably climbing the terrace and into one open window, as you hid your trunk of potions back under the bed.

“Y/N! “ he shouted, barging inside and spotted you dusting your lap as you stood up. “You weren’t answering the door, so I--“

“I’m fine,“ you interrupted, sensing energy forming at the base of your stomach as it wells up and stretches into a thin string. Hopefully, the amount of potion you drank was not too strong enough to lower your walls.

You shook your head. “Anyway, can you help me with my stuff? They’re already down the hallway, so we only have to carry them to the terminal.”

“Oh, sure, sure. But seriously, are you alright?” Soonyoung asked, noting you were more closed off than usual. You only turned your back at him and walked towards your closet.

“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Don’t worry,” you dismissed him. “Now, could you please allow me to dress myself up?”

He was quiet for a while but eventually nodded, and left you in your ministrations. Sighing as he closed the door and disappeared, you struggled to keep yourself up. Just by lowering the suppressants, a tidal wave of thoughts barraged inside your head, immediately overwhelming you. They were obviously not yours and now you wondered if this was your connection, and if your soulmate was also thinking what you were thinking at that moment. Before you could arrive at an answer though, the thoughts once again stopped and your mind calmed down.

You breathed in and out. There was no way you could truly understand what was happening. You can only form conjectures and draw theories yet none of them were absolutely irrefutable. You couldn’t understand why it suddenly stopped, but nevertheless it was a welcome development. You can finally finish your chores without disturbance.

As soon as you were done, you went downstairs to look for Soonyoung who seemed to have been waiting at the drawing room. He had already hailed a carriage to carry your belongings to the terminal, so you guessed it was only you they were waiting for.

“I hope no one has called the police when you climbed through the terrace again,” you greeted him with a smile, your personal trunk on your hands.

“Nah, they know it’s just me,” he replied, grinning back as he took your trunk.

Soonyoung was a childhood friend, the heir of a fine and lucrative shipping company among many in Porta Persa. He has a natural talent in mischief and a bundle of energy, yet surprisingly hard working. Together with you and Wonwoo, who was another friend, Soonyoung was currently preoccupied with The Porta Persa Edition as one of its editors.

"We'll be seeing more of each other from now on!" He remarked excitedly, helping you up the carriage before joining in as well. "If you know what I mean."

You sighed at his rather indiscreet methods of discretely conveying that you three were running a rather controversial newspaper.

"How was today's paper though?" You asked as the carriage began moving and jumping around the cobblestones.

Soonyoung grinned victoriously. "Folks were deliciously eating it by the news stands and Wonwoo said the Parliament and the Royal Elders were absolutely livid with Alex Fireflower's piece!"

You feel a sweatdrop roll down your cheek.

"It's kind of scary with the way you say that," you replied, and then continued with a more confident tone, "but I'm glad they got the message. People need to wake up from this farce."

"You seriously hate the soulmate thing, huh?" Soonyoung commented. "I mean, I can't really say anything since I don't have my bond yet."

You glanced at him, thinking of your own bond and instinctively hid your wrist underneath your gloves.

"Lucky for you."

By the time you both arrived at the terminal, it was all a breeze from there. The teleportation portals were not as busy compared to other days, thus with just a cart and Soonyoung by your side, you have officially moved to the Royal Academy of Porta Persa.

The Royal Academy of Porta Persa, or just the Academy, was a state-ran university, yet the most prominent among other universities in the area. Atop a hill overlooking the main port, it was constantly covered by wisteria and cherry blossom trees all year long thanks to magic, painting a surreal landscape for all of Porta Persa to see.

"Even if I've seen this from my window every night, this is still quite a sight to take in," you exclaimed as you both walked towards the dormitories.

Soonyoung gave a small smile. "I was like that last year, you know."

Due to the prestige of the Academy and its quality of education, only a select few can attend its venerable halls of learning: the elite and the intellectually gifted. You were lucky to be part of the latter group. The entrance examinations were intense yet you still made it, happy that you were finally able to attend their Effective Journalism class which was the reason why you wanted to go in the first place.

"I'm sure your dorm master will tell you later, but I'm going to say it anyway," Soonyoung started as he pushed your cart up a slope. "In the dorm rooms, the ladies and the gents are separated."

He made it seem so controversial that you made a deadpan look by the time he finished talking.

"I think that should be obvious by now."

"Eh? But aren't you disappointed? We can't brainstorm article ideas together with Wonwoo, you know!"

"But we can just talk in the courtyard." You shrugged, not really getting Soonyoung.

"We can't just talk in the courtyard! People will know we're The Porta Persa Edition!"

You stopped walking. "Soonyoung, the newspaper is registered in your name. I think, except my identity as Alex Fireflower, this is no longer any secret."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "You're such a killjoy!"

"Oh, look. We're here," you pointed out, totally ignoring Soonyoung's comment.

The girl's dormitory looked especially lavish with marble and ornate columns. Lilac wisteria trees dotted the surroundings, creating a flowery curtain around the dormitory. On the entrance way though was a female guard and the dorm master.

"I think I can manage from this point on," you said, taking the cart from your friend's grasps, "Thanks for your help though! I'll contact you later!"

"Oh if you say so then! Hope your roommate's nice though!" he replied, taking a step back and giving a small salute. "I'll wait for you and Wonwoo in the dorms! See you!"

You gave a cheeky smirk and saluted him back before pushing your way inside the dorm. As you entered, the dorm master welcomed you with a polite smile in her dark floor length dress and clipboard in her hands. She was an older woman yet lacked the frightening aura dorm masters seemed to have.

"Good morning! You are Ms. Y/N, I assume?" She asked and you nodded, showing your identification pin as proof.

"Well unfortunately, we don't have any room in the main building, which is why we have decided that incoming students have to stay at the refurbished building." She started as she began walking you across the courtyard. "There were a lot of students last year, we really had no choice."

"I see. Well, I'm ok with anywhere, to be honest. As long as I have a bed and a desk to write on," you replied, gazing at the fancy architecture prominent among all the buildings.

She chuckled. "Don't worry. The rooms are considerably bigger in the renovated building with a private bathroom and a small kitchen, though you have to share it with another person."

"That's quite fancy, huh? Looks like I still have my luck today," you replied with a chuckle, pushing your cart forwards.

Shortly, the building you were to stay for the rest of your years in the university pulled into view. It was indeed massive and frighteningly grand, and seemed like only the rich can afford such residence, which definitely worried you. It would be quite difficult if you got paired with a snobby and spoiled princess of some far away land.

Entering the building, you noticed that the hallways were no different with its golden inlays and dark marbled floors. Ceiling to floor windows graced on your left as the dorm master led you to the third floor (via an elevator) and to a wide ornate door.

"I think it's this room." Fishing a set of keys from her pocket, she opened the door and led you inside.

To no surprise, it was an extravagant room. In your front was a sofa set by a fireplace which serves a sitting room for guests. The common room proper was separated by french doors and a wall of glass which looked like sets of windows.

You slowly took it in, unused to this kind of place. Taking a step forward, you looked around: there were fresh roses on the side table, bookcases filled with heavy tomes and encyclopedias, a scent of nearby cherry blossom flowers from an open window.

This was definitely not what you had expected. This large room fit for royals was not what you had in mind when you imagined yourself living in the dorm rooms of the Academy. And it frightened you.

"Do...do I have to pay for this?" You asked the dorm master who was waiting for you at the doorway.

She smiled. "No need to worry, Ms. Y/N. All of your expenses here are paid by the state."

"Is it really alright for me to be here…"

Your words faltered, thinking about how lucky and privileged you were to be living in this kind of place in the next few years, while there were others who stayed in a much humble dorm room.

"Is it not to your liking?" The dorm master asked which you immediately denied.

"No, no. This is good," you said. Too good even.

Your thoughts you flushed out before it could convince you to just stay at your family home. That would definitely not be ideal at all. Tentatively opening the french doors leading to the common room, what you saw was definitely not what you expected.

Fresh from an immersive bath was a man, not much older than Soonyoung, in his half naked glory.

"Who on earth are you?" He asked and you froze.

Frozen because all you wanted to do was to wake up from this horrible nightmare of a day, or you wanted to evaporate there at your very spot from sheer embarrassment.

Without a word, you immediately closed the door and ran back to the door where the dorm master was looking at you in confusion.

"This…! This room is clearly occupied! By a man!" You nearly screamed at her, yet still held a bit of your composure.

You could still see the afterimage of the man in your mind, his dark black hair wet, his toned body only covered by a mere towel. You furiously tried to erase it out of your eye sockets before you sink into the gutter.

"Huh? But the records say this room is occupied by Iris Appleby," she replied in panic, checking her clipboard over and over again.

In the midst of her checking, the man emerged from the bedroom, now much more appropriate in trousers and a button up. He seemed to be a bit annoyed from the disturbance, you noticed.

"I assume there must be some problem here," he said coolly, hands in his pockets.

If anything, you thought the dorm master had seen a ghost from how pale she got just from taking a glimpse of the man.

"Sir Lee Jihoon! I must apologize for this inconvenience!" She exclaimed tearfully. Her panic had doubled and was now frantically checking the records.

You blinked several times upon hearing the name, and then finally, it clicked a second after.

The youngest parliament member, huh?

"I'm sure there was some mistake! We thought this room was occupied by someone else, Sir! And it's the only available room we have!" The dorm master cried, and you grimaced.

"Alright, madam. Please take a deep breath," you told her, patting her back. "We could check if there are other rooms left, okay?"

"I already did through the clipboard! We have the dorm rooms monitored by magic tracing, yet in some way, only this room was registered with a wrong name," she replied as her shoulders sagged.

"I don't mind her as a roommate," the third person involved finally spoke. "The rooms are separated and we only have to share the bath, the kitchen and the common room anyway."

The dorm master seemed hopeful for that solution as she gave you a questioning look. Lee Jihoon also glanced at you, his sharp eyes seemingly judging.

It's either here or back at home, huh? There was no way you're going back.

"As I said earlier, madam, I can sleep anywhere as long as I have a bed and a desk," you replied with a reassuring smile and then gazed at Jihoon. "It's not really as bad as it looks."

Ecstatic with your answer, the dorm master shouted her massive amount of gratitude and bowed farewell after giving you your keys.

Turning around, you faced Lee Jihoon who had his arms crossed, and an unimpressed look on his face.

"I'm Y/N! First year History of Magic major! Nice to meet you, my roommate," you cheerfully introduced yourself yet was met with only sheer silence. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"This is the point where you also introduce yourself while shaking my hand and we then go on with the particulars of our own lives, never to interact again except when sharing the kitchen and the bath," you continued, clearly irked.

He raised his brows at you in amusement. Taking your hand, he shook yours firmly.

"Lee Jihoon, Magical Law, 2nd year. A pleasure as well," he replied, and then gave the most sarcastic smile you've ever seen, if you've ever seen one, before dropping your hand.

"Let's actively avoid each other from now on," he replied with his back turned. Walking away, Jihoon waved at you and then went towards his own room.

Alone, the silence was empty. Yet you simply shrugged at the whole event. Having a politician as a roommate was way better than a princess.

Dragging your cart of belongings inside, you went to what you assumed was your room, opposite to Jihoon's. You noticed that the common room consisted of another ornate fireplace, a large gilded table and a high tech kitchen fueled by fire-charged stones. There were also a few pieces of expensive decor which would really suck if you managed to break one.

The common room was fancy, and your room was, of course, no different. It was a bit bare yet it was already filled with furniture. The canopy bed was at the center; a tall curtained window behind it, as well as a set of chairs just in front of a fireplace. A desk and a few bookshelves was at the far right, near the door. Your closet was a walk-in type, you observed, yet immediately grimaced, knowing you never had that much clothes in the first place.

Huffing, you sat on a lounge chair at the end of the bed. (It wasn't dusty, thank god.) Yet today was by far the most exhausting day you had.

Removing the glove on your right hand, you checked if the soulmate marking was really there or just an early morning nightmare of yours. It was still there though, glistening against the midday sunlight from the window.

It looked innocent that way, just black horizontal bars. Yet its meaning was something you wished did not exist at all.

--!!

All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pang on your head, followed by a sound of static on your ears and a barrage of muddled thoughts in your head. You grabbed a fistful of your hair to at least calm it down a bit yet it was for naught.

A bad migraine, you convince yourself. It was definitely not.

Struggling at the lounge chair for several minutes left you panting and nauseous. There was no solution to this as this was of course the result of you tampering with the connection. You felt like banging your head on the wall because of the pain and because of your own sheer stubbornness, yet that wouldn't really solve anything, will it?

Before you could even contemplate asking your roommate for help, the pain and the overwhelming confusion disappeared and left you in a state of clarity.

Exhausted, you closed your eyes and sighed.

"I never knew you detest me so much, my dear soulmate."

Those were definitely not your thoughts.

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fluff #the most convenient escape #chapter 1 #i accidentally deleted the original post.....

59 notes · View notes

hermanwatts · 4 years ago

Text

Sensor Sweep: Barbarian Prince, Borgia Blade, Hugo Awards

RPG (Tor.com): I’d even say it was the pinnacle of ‘80s solitaire fantasy games (I’m not sure that’s a huge category, now that I think of it). But Barbarian Prince is quirky and poorly balanced, and there are plenty of more recent solitaire games that have surpassed it. We should be talking about them instead. Like the superb Nemo’s War, or some of the great Leader titles from Dan Verssen Games, or the engrossing Charlemagne, Master of Europe from Hollandspielle.

Hugo Awards (American Thinker): The Hugo Award annually acknowledges the best sci-fi and fantasy. Martin was the toastmaster for this year’s award show, which was held via Livestream. As the host, Martin made jokes and quips throughout the show. He later said of his performance that, “Most of the stories I told last night were time-tested, in a sense. I have told those same stories before. Usually they get big laughs.” This time, Martin did not get big laughs. Instead, he offended the social justice community.

H. P. Lovecraft (Book and Film Globe): In 2014, a storm arose over whether winners of the annual World Fantasy Award should continue to receive a bust of H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937), designed by Gahan Wilson, in recognition of their achievements, or whether a more politically acceptable figure should be the emblem of the revered program. The World Fantasy Awards have long been some of the most coveted prizes for authors who write stories and novels in the weird, horror, fantasy, and slipstream genres.

RPG (Geek Native): At Power-Con today, a virtual convention for She-Ra and He-Man fans Mattel announced a Masters of the Universe RPG. Legends of Grayskull will be powered by Cortex Prime, the latest version of Cortex from designer Cam Banks. Masters of the Universe becomes the second hugely popular series Fandom’s Cortex has signed up as many weels, with Netflix’s The Dragon Prince also announcing an RPG called Tales of Xadia with the system.

Publishing (Legends of Men): Flashing Swords was one of the first series of Sword & Sorcery anthologies. The first was published in 1973. It lasted five for five volumes with the first two featuring some awesome Frank Frazetta cover art. The series was edited by Lin Carter, one of the best-known authors and champions of S&S, though his books don’t seem to be considered the cream of the crop in the genre. The fifth volume was published in 1981 with mediocre cover art. The series has been untouched since then until 2020 that is.

RPG (Tales of Flothmar): Burials of Teganshire Post 1 of 30. The number one campaign killer, in my realm of experience, is apathy for the game world. Burials of Teganshire puts in the work to help a DM avoid the Shiv of Don’t Care. Go to the crowdfunding campaign on Indiegogo to get your copy. Once apathy sets in, the campaign putters out. Goes splat. Deflates. Poofs in a puff of sadness (and sadness poofs are the saddest poofs of them all). Over the next several days, we’ll be discussing the player association to a campaign and ways a DM can jump on the verisimilitude bandwagon.

Fiction (DMR Books): If someone had told me three years ago that I would soon be singing the praises of Gardner F. Fox to anyone who might listen, I would’ve laughed in his face. At that time, I only knew Fox from his comics work for DC and from his sword-and-sorcery tales. I was never that big a fan of DC. While I do have a soft spot for Gar’s Niall of the Far Travels stories, I never cared much for his Kothar and Kyrik books.

RPG (Jeffro’s Space Gaming Blog): It didn’t matter, though. They were dead set on retrieving them now. Narjhan broke in to insist that I give him a payout for the Snakepede head he recovered previously. Rhedgar the Veteran needed to have his research into the nature of the Woman in Ice resolved. I revealed that she was a powerful sorceress in a previous Aeon. That she was known to have a powerful demonic henchman. Also, that she was imprisoned in ice by a powerful variant of the Spell of Forlorn Encystment that we really ought to get a name for soon. The players wanted to know more, but that is all they get for 50 gold pieces and a week of down time.

Fiction (The Dacian): Cadiz, 1811, a city under siege. Napoleon’s army surrounds the city, subjecting the population to daily bombardments. Inside the besieged city, swarmed with refugees, British soldiers, and rife with political turmoil, the mutilated bodies of several teenage girls are discovered. In the chaos of war, there is a killer loose in the city. Police Commisario Tizon, a brutal and complex man with a love of classic literature takes the case and tracks the killer across the chessboard of the city. His investigation crosses paths with a young woman who runs a successful mercantile company, a rough corsair captain, a French artillery officer, and a taxidermist turned spy.

Fiction (Woelf Dietrich): Clark Ashton Smith was considered one of the big three of Weird Tales, along with Robert E. Howard and H. P. Lovecraft, and was a member of the Lovecraft Circle. An American poet, sculptor, painter, and intermittent author of fantasy, horror, and science fiction short stories, Clark Ashton Smith, took the fevered dreams of his childhood and laid them bare in his short stories and poetry. He chose his own path from a young age and left school early because it could not teach him what he needed to learn. It would just have been a distraction, which, although a romanticized way of looking at it, is probably not the whole truth. Smith’s health issues played a big part in his decisions.

Cinema (Jon Mollison): The Vast of Night. This was pretty good. It’s a slow-burn mystery set in small-town New Mexico way back in the lost golden age of the 1950s. The plot revolves around a technically literate high-school girl – one who feels organically smart rather than performatively so because screw you manbabies – and a street-smart DJ who stumbled onto some strange doings while the rest of town is pre-occupied with a high-school basketball game. Yeah, it’s aliens, but the mystery remains, and the limitations of 1950s tech and social rules are played up to perfection.

Star Trek (That Hashtag Show): In 2015, on the podcast The Nerdist, Quentin Tarantino was asked what his vision for Star Wars would be. In true Trekkie fashion Tarantino answered that he would be much more interested in making a Star Trek movie. Elaborating on how the Abrams reboot series was an opportunity to revisit some of the classic episodes. Expanding such an episode to a feature film length that explored the concepts more. This remained a fun little encounter until 2017. When Deadline announced that JJ Abrams would produce a Star Trek film directed by Tarantino and written by The Revenant scribe Mark L. Smith.

Sensor Sweep: Barbarian Prince, Borgia Blade, Hugo Awards published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

0 notes