While in Campeche

The Original 

Writing fiction. Writing fantasy. Writing for roleplaying games. I enjoy those kind of things, because I like to exercise my worldbuilding skills and tools. And you know what the trick is? It is stealing. Not just copying, but actually taking something, a trait, a technique, a theme, from another artist, and make it your own. For example, if I wanted to run a campaign of Dungeon World, in a setting which reminds you of Jack Vance's The Dying Earth, (which I do), then there is no better way to do it, than to steal shamelessly from these stories. But not wholesale. It's gonna be things like the decay of the world, the red sun, the "there may be no tomorrow, so all live for today"-attitude, and the ancient and almost forgotten remnants of eon old civilisations.

The Dictionary Edit

Wrong 'un fiddler crab. Wrong 'un Far Eastern. Wrong 'un for roll on gamekeepers. I enjoy those kindred of thinkables, because I like to exercise my World War I Bujumbura skimmia and toolsets. And you know what the trickle-down is? It is a steam iron. Not just a coquette, but actually a talc sommelier, a trammel, a techy, a thenar, from another Aru Islands, and make it your own. For excel, if I wanted to run a Campeche of Dunnage World War I, in a Setúbal which reminds you of Jack Vance's The Dying Earthenware, (which I do), then there is no better wayleave to do it, than to steal shamelessly from these stours. But not wholesale. It's gonna be thinkables like the decelerate of the World War I, the red sun sign, the "there may be no Tonbridge, so all live for toe-in"-attorney general, and the ancient and almost forgotten remorse of eon old CJAs (Criminal Justice Acts).

The Hardly More Sensible Revision

It's a wrong 'un fiddler crab. It's a wrong 'un Far Eastern. It's a wrong 'un for rolling on, gamekeepers. I usually enjoy these kindred of thinkables, because I like to exercise my knowledge of the skimmia and toolsets in Bujumbura during World War I. And you know what the trickle-down from this is? It is a steam iron gift. Not just from a lovely coquette, but actually a talc sommelier, a trammel, a techy, a thenar, if you know what I mean, some from another version of the Aru Islands, where I make it my own. For excellency, if I wanted, while in the Mexican state of Campeche, to run the World War I of wooden dunnage, or in the Portuguese city of Setúbal, something which reminds you of Jack Vance's The Dying Earthenware, (which I wish I could do), then there is no better wayleave to do it, than to steal shamelessly from these remnant stours. But not wholesale. It's gonna be tidbits and thinkables like the decelerate of World War I, the red sun sign, the "there may be no Tonbridge, so all live for toe-in"-attitude of a modern attorney general, and the ancient and almost forgotten remorse of eon old CJAs (Criminal Justice Acts).

Dividing of Parts

To-day we have dividing of parts. Yesterday,

We had daily cleansing. And to-morrow morning

We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day

To-day we have dividing of parts. Lavenders

Sweetly pollinate each others' flowery fruits

     And to-day we have dividing of parts.

This is the strong man. And this 

Is the obedient woman, whose use you will see, 

When you have taken your vows. And this is the dowry,

Which in your case you have not got. The clouds

Float in the skies their white, indefinite forms

     Which in our case we have not got.

This is the heterosexuality, which is always released

With an easy flick from the mass-media. And please do not let me

See anyone using his emotions. You can do it quite easy

If you have any masculinity. The mossy trees

stand defiant, dark, and green, never letting anyone see

     Any of them using their emotions.

And this you can see is the penis. The purpose of this

Is to spread your seed, as you see. We can slide it

Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this

The miracle of life. And rapidly backwards and forwards

The heavenly moon performs its tides:

     They call it the miracle of life.

They call it the miracle of life: it is perfectly easy

If you have any masculinity: like the penis,

And the seed, and the sexuality, and the traditions

Which in our case we have not got; and the violets

Float amongst each others' flowery fruits and the tides going backwards and forwards

     For to-day we have dividing of parts.

.but backwards and omitted, to turn it all poetic

Joshua trees tells of arthritic glory

They all fell on dead pictures 

Bar, weatherbeaten, roared dry songs

Screen doors came up miserable big steak dinner

Her face had to see supersonic pilot

Free steak dinner serve few pilots

The day was implausible and strange

No reverberation had become tremendous mid-afternoon 

Any case was never quite the chief

Another possibility did strategic breakthrough 

Wartime was hard brass

On the minds was directly among the people

The flight line was not to go be informed

The press put on top security orders

Wright Field break supersonic ship

Instruments checked out deadpan Yeager

"Machometer" could be picked up by the secret exchange

They had understood the High Lake

Aerobatics rolls back down and land at the world

A king's solitude was vast rocket fuel

He was faster than Heaven

Pilot had the top of the X-I

Space was simply looking too thin

Air had reached the same sun

The moon turned straight through the sensation

Yeager topped sonic like a bat

Jack guess poker-hollow Yeager's

They think it seeing Chuck

It heard many, Theodore von Kármán

The physicist heard the ground rock over that moment

Ol' machometer make off .96

The needle pinned elevator note

The Assassination of the Duchess

Scenario to be used for the Blades in the Dark role-playing game. Set in the default fictional universe of the game.

The players' crew of assassins is approached by a darkly but finely cloaked man. He says he is the messenger of two important nobles in the city. One, his master, a wealthy Count, desires for his daughter to marry into power. The other, a Duke, has become jealous of his wife, the Duchess, and her frivolous affairs. Together they've agreed that the Duchess must be killed so the Duke can remarry the daughter of the Count. But neither are particular skilled in murder, and will not want to get their hands (too) dirty, to decrease the cost and probability of potential bribes to The Magistrates of Law.

And so, the messenger found you, the crew, to do the job for them. He tells you that the assassination must not lead back to either of the two nobles, and that the payment will be 4 coin, 2 coin extra if it looks like an accident. Note: 1 coin is the common parlance of a heavy sum of money in Doskvol.

Upon asking for further details, the messenger will tell you that, the Duke lives in an estate in Whitecrown, the richest and most opulent of districts in the city. The estate has a terrace, and should he find it appropriate, the messenger will tell an anecdote of the Duchess riding around on a white mule in the terrace on her birthday, and how she was showered with other amazing gifts, amongst them cherries. These signs of luxury will be obvious to anyone living in Doskvol, as horses and mules are expensive compared to the more common large Akorosian draft goat, and cherries are hard to grow beneath the sunless sky. However, the messenger, who was with the hardhearted Count as guest, could see the Duke's jealousy grow as he saw the Duchess thanking the men for their fine gifts. When the messenger questioned his master, the Count told him that the Duke considered his ancient name to be of larger worth than any of these gifts, and that the Duchess have cheated him out of her thanks.

The messenger will further tell you about Frà Pandolf, a painter originally from the Silkshore district, later moved into the richer Brightstone district, renowned for his artistic ability. The messenger will identify him as a slide of a man. Charismatic, handsome, and of sleazy character to anyone not moved by him. The messenger will tell you that, if you can find evidence that he and the Duchess had had an affair, the price on his head will be a further 2 coin.

Fire of Chariots

"You need to cut it down, Chariots," the foreman said to the scowling performer, while reading his datapad where it clearly stood "Down cut, fire of Chariots."
"Cut it down?!" Trace Chariots could not believe their ears. "How can you cut it down, it's an essential part of the show!" 

"I am very sorry, but a 10 meter high flame is too big of a hazard," he continued dryly.

"An essential part of the show, though!" Chariots repeated. "We've taken the necessary safety precautions, haven't we? Why does it suddenly need to be cut down?"

The Red Sun

A 5 minute poem

Under the red sun I lie

Seeing oceans passing by

By the cliff and mountain dust

And the looming towers of rust

Beauties of green lied everywhere

With buzzers and movers here and there

But now desolation reign supreme

In this dread necromantic dream

Soon the sun will fade to black

And leave this ancient ground in cold

The people will never again come back

They left in their ships so bold