The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

Your Agents page (and I'm guessing lots of your site) has been severely borked by Photobucket's BS. Like, I think they've made it even worse than it was before. Is fixing that on your agenda? {= (

Meanwhile, Twistey, start with Dafydd Illian's mission reports as indexed on his wiki page. That's DOGA's foundational spin-off.

~Neshomeh

Nobody gets into a show just to spork some fic that someone else wants sporked. It's clear that this show interests you, but that doesn't mean it's going to interest anyone else.

Maybe if you told us a little bit about it, and why you love it, and showed some emotional enthusiasm for it?

But that's no guarantee. If no one else is interested, you need to let it go, and that means not putting any more stuff about it on the wiki, too.

~Neshomeh

No wandering into Plort! Go play with Heironymus, Hiernoymous and Hieonymus!

HG

As the High King's laugh echoed around the bowl of Cadair Idris, Jacob leant over to Lise. "What's going on?" he hissed.

The girl's face had set into a stony glare. "This is not King Arthur, if there ever was such a person." She pointed at the mail-clad knight. "This is the Lone Power."

The sound of laughter died away, though the Lord of the High Magic still smiled. "That's where you're wrong, little wizard," he said, his Speech taking on a new, strange accent. "I am that Power that stands alone, yes - but I am also the Pendragon."

Lise didn't waver. "Then you've taken him over," she said. "Like possession, or brainwashing, or-"

"The word you are groping for, child," Arthur said smoothly, "is 'overshadowed', and it is absolutely true." He paused, and his smile widened. "But do you really think I could overshadow a tool of wizardry so powerful as Arthur did he not permit it?"

Lise didn't answer. Jacob pressed his free hand over hers on his wrist and snorted his derision. "Of course you could," he said. "You're evil, that's what you do."

The Lone Power waved this off, sheathing the crystal sword once more. "Oh, minor acts of control are possible, I suppose," It allowed. "But everything is so much easier if the subject consents to the arrangement."

Jacob looked at Lise, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. "He's lying," he told her. "He's of the Dark - he is the Dark - he's not going to just-"

Arthur laughed again, a bark of genuine mirth. "The Dark?" he scoffed. "I am so far above that shadow-play you can't even comprehend." He smirked, looking past them to the wounded Afanc. "But it was an excellent tool for distracting the fickle Powers of this island, wasn't it?"

"You can't…" Lise swallowed, glanced over her shoulder at the monster, tried again. "You can't say you weren't trying to-"

"To what?" The Lone Power gestured at the beast. "To kill a creation of the Dark? You're making my point for me."

There was something off about the words It was using, Jacob realised, their precise meaning in the Speech… not it was an excellent tool, but it still can be… "You're trying to change the future," he said with sudden certainty. "If you kill the Afanc now, then it can never confront Jane, and… and that will change things," he concluded. "Somehow."

Arthur's good-humoured mask slipped a little. "They were so pleased with themselves," he said, "so happy with their idea to counter my new Darkness with an 'Old Magic' of their own - so clever in sneaking around the rules by incarnating themselves as immortal humans. But they were fools." He raised his voice, and the words echoed back from over the grey lake. "When the Dark comes rising, Six shall turn it back… for a time, and feel like they've accomplished something great, and keep grubbing about in their cages of flesh until the next time I choose to stir things up."

"But that wasn't going to happen," Lise said, taking Silver on the Tree out from under her arm and gazing down at the cover. "The book ends with the Dark being defeated, properly defeated. All shall find the Light at last, silver on the tree."

"Four thousand years I kept them pinned to this grubby island," the Lone Power groused. "The Pendragon here was set to do the Old Ones' bidding, destroy the Dark at its very first rising, but when I showed him how they were using him he leapt at my offer. And just a little change - taking away the girl's trust in a strange boy from the mountains who saves her from a monster - will make the second confrontation just as indecisive."

"And that's why he wants to kill the Afanc," Jacob said, turning to Lise. "If it doesn't attack Jane, she'll never really see who Bran is, and…"

"The future changes." Lise nodded and released his arm at last. She opened he Manual and faced King Arthur. "You failed. We won't let you touch it."

"Touch it?" Amusement seeped back into the Power's tone. "It's already dying. All I have to do is wait."

"What?" Lise turned, opening her Manual to the diagnostic sections and rattling off a quick spell. "No, no… Jacob, pass me its name, quickly."

Jacob flipped to the prior spell and tapped it on her open book, transferring the whole thing across once more. He had no further doubts - after all, if the Lone Power wanted to stop them, they must be doing something right.

But the Power didn't seem all that concerned. "And what if you do?" It asked in a bored tone. "The Dark is defeated, and I'm down one minor plaything. And the Old Ones? They're all heading off to Timeheart, leaving this island with no-one to speak for it." It turned, spreading Its arms as if to embrace the mountain, and the whole of Britain beyond. "I'll have a free run at the place. Oh, the 1980s are going to be fun."

Lise paused in her spelling, looking torn, and the Power leant in. "Tell you what," It said conspiratorially, "I'll make it easier on you. If you cast that spell," It flicked a dismissive finger at the Manual, "I will banish you forever from this land."

Lise gaped, glancing briefly at Jacob. "You can't do that!"

"Oh, but I can." It drew Itself up, Its crown catching the light. "I am Arthur, the once and future king of Britain. I have the right."

"Then I'll cast it," Jacob said, placing his hand on Lise's shoulder.

"Oh, really, are we rules-lawyering now?" The Power pointed at the two of them. "Let me be perfectly plain," it said formally, still in the Speech. "Anyone who is involved in the casting of that spell will be banished from Britain. Is that clear?"

Lise looked down at the book, then back up at the Lone One. "Absolutely," she said coldly, and quite deliberately set her finger to the page once again.

King Arthur rolled his eyes and glanced at Jacob. "The stubbornness of youth," he said. "I don't suppose you can convince her? After all, I win either way - and if she'll just let the beast die, neither of you have to suffer along the way."

"No." Jacob looked down at the girl's book, at the tracery of Speech forming on the page. "I've half a mind to join her myself."

"No." Lise met his eyes for an instant. "This is my choice, understand?"

"Absolutely." Jacob faced the Lone Power again. "So there's nothing left to say."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but fell silent. The only sounds were the rustling of heather, the lapping of the water, and the laboured breathing of the Afanc.

Finally, Lise traced a sweeping figure of eight and looked up from her page. "Somehow I still can't believe you'll let me cast this," she said dryly.

"If you want to break a promising partnership over a monster, be my guest," Arthur said. It looked into her eyes, wide behind her glasses. "What, do you need an official invitation?" Once again it dropped into a more formal register of the Speech. "I consent to the casting of this spell. Happy?"

"Very." Lise shared one final look with Jacob, held up her book, and began to read.

The familiar silence fell as the syllables of the Speech poured out of her. She first named the Afanc, the recipient of the spell. Then a long list of healing actions to be taken, including several that depended on the outcome of intermediate diagnostics. She moved onto her name, as caster and power source, and King Arthur smiled thinly at the sound of it.

Then: "Bright star that was," she recited, her voice clear and cold. "Dark star that is."

The Lone Powers eyes widened. "What?"

Lise reached out blindly, taking Jacob's hand as she spoke on. "Tempter, Fearmonger, Starsnuffer, Fire-kindler, Master of death, Servant of entropy."

"You cannot-" The Power tugged on the crystal sword in its sheath, but in the grip of the spell, Eirias was locked in place. "You have no right!"

"Fairest." The word fell like lead from the young wizard's lips. "Fallen." She looked up, meeting King Arthur's gaze with fire in her eyes. "Lone Power, I name you, and by your own spoken consent," she hesitated, just for an instant, letting that sink in, "I bind you to this spell." She raised a hand, pointing at the Afanc, and spoke the final syllables.

The Lone Power screamed. The Afanc jolted as the healing energy rippled through it. The mountains shook under them, boulders crashing down from the craggy peaks. Jacob felt Lise's hand slip in his, tried to tighten his grip, but it was no good - she fell away, and everything else followed after, and there was only white...

---

Author's Miscellaneous Notes:
-Just the epilogue to go. I'm not quite cruel enough to leave it there.
-The conceit of this story is that, four millennia ago, the Lone Power created the creatures of the Dark to wreak havoc on Britain. The Powers of Britain - who were much like the Irish ones, hanging around way too long - chose to counter that by inventing the Old Magic, and incarnating themselves en masse as the Old Ones. The first to enter his incarnation was Merriman Lyon; the last was Will Stanton.
-Arthur, meanwhile, is a lord of the High Magic - a wizard, at least in theory. But, other than time travel, we never see him engage in magic... this is why. He's sold his soul to the Lone Power.
-As for Bran... it never really came up, but my notion is that he's Overshadowed by wizardry itself. Given the existence of Bobo, it's not too farfetched a concept, and Bran certainly always seems a bit unaware of what he does in the books.
-We'll find out what comes of Lise's gamble next time. See you soon.

hS

OK. But it's very easy to get into the Loud House Canon. You can watch the show on nick.com/loud-house.

You'd think folks wouldn't be too hard on the bards back in those days, when spoken word was the main source of stories . . .

—doctorlit, also perplexed by a knight bringing a swarm of people-eating ravens to visit his king

I'll get the bracket assigned and set up on Monday!

I think near the Nechsiv would make sense, since that puts the place in Chaett and near a baronial seat.

Or we could hypothecically drop a river through Baroness Juliette's territory.

Or ... heck if I know, I forgot to think about geography.

- Tomash

I just got back into the works of Tolkien via Blind Guardian, and this hit the spot.

And I am ready to lose horribly try my hardest!

So, here is my team:

Gardevoir
Gallade
Metagross
Delphox
Swoobat
Slowking
Malamar

I swear I know what I'm doing and this team is actually carefully researched and considered and totally not put together at the last minute because I'm both busy and easily distracted.

The 'snapshot' spell was moving along quite speedily - almost too speedily, Marisa thought. She wanted her parents to get this.

"Take a look around," Marisa urged them, thought at them, for her mouth was otherwise occupied speaking the spell. And so they did.

All around them, it seemed as if the world stopped needing walls, and so they had stopped existing. The three of them could perceive where everything was - her brother, there by the entrance to the living room, the viewing window into the kitchen on the other side of the room - through that the windows in the kitchen, and through those, outside. Furthermore, they could 'see' every branch of the trees outside, as if they were frozen in place. The swings out there could also be seen - they weren't perfectly centered, as if a breeze had come in just then to nudge them. Around them, because this was outside, they - Marisa and her parents - could sense the wildlife.

Birds, bugs. A few squirrels, their actions brought to a rare moment of stillness. But beyond them were their neighbors houses, their cars and yards and children and pets and-

"This is what wizards protect, mom, dad. But we can't protect what we don't know about, what we can't connect to. This is Life, and this is what I serve."

Marisa reached the end of the spell, enunciating the syllables of the Wizards' Knot precisely, and the world snapped back into motion - and their perception of it, back to their living room.

Her Dad - Mike - looked at her again, attempting to get his nerves back. "But do you need this power?"

Normally, Marisa suspected, this would be when one or both of her parents would say she couldn't do it - or the Lone Power would speak through them, trying to get her to give up her wizardry willingly.

"If I couldn't be any good as a wizard, it wouldn't have been offered, Dad." She said with absolute certainty.

"And the... outburst, this afternoon?" her Mom - Debbie - added.

"Being a wizard doesn't make me any less human, Mom! It just means I have more ways to figure things out, resources I never would have had otherwise, even with the problems."

They looked defeated, now - or maybe they were still just windswept from the wizardry; she couldn't blame them.

"So, I'm okay with having time out. But when Those who gave me wizardry say I'm needed somewhere, I'm needed there. To help."

"And you'll tell us?" Mom, again - possibly trying to keep Dad from starting a new argument.

"Yes, mom, I'll try. If I can't do it right away I'll call, or email, or something."

And right then, the doorbell rang; Marisa jumped. Mike and Debbie looked at each other.

"Who is that?"

"We, uh, called your speech therapist, in case she could tell us about something we'd missed. She insisted on coming over," her Dad explained - and did Mike actually look sheepish, now? Color Marisa surprised.

"Mrs. Riley? Why?" But she had a feeling she knew. With their mother's approval, Sam (her brother) opened the door - and before anyone could say anything, Mrs. Riley called,

/Dai Stiho, Marisa!/

((AN: Yes, I went cliffhanger on you. :V
As to the tape - yes, I really am like that. XD Leave no mess, if possible! Also, the family's Jewish - just be glad she's more-or-less concretely proved their beliefs instead of wholesale destroying them! That, and Marisa's the younger child. And since becoming a wizard helped Marisa throw fewer temper tantrums, Mike and Debbie aren't as mad as they would have been if this were a regular thing for Marisa - and therefore they'd expect her to have learned 'not' to get upset like she did. :V))

I'm revamping a Semi-Fic Blip to make this agent, and I'd forgotten that I'd given her the ability to mess with people's dreams, so I figured it would be more fitting and less severe to have her just make her partner dream they're dying horribly, which would be a lesser offense and more of just an "abuse of powers" thing. That fits the consequences a lot better.

Anyway, I don't know which fics to click on on hS's page, can you guide me on that?

-Twistey

...some of you may remember how I visited-then-realized-I'd-joined the Board thinking you were a ruthless group of critics I could "sic on" a badficcer friend when she didn't listen to anything I said about her work. The FAQ: For Other People did sort of give me that impression.

While I did sort of take a little immature happiness at the brutal snark of the original FAQ: For Other People (as I myself sometimes need to be restrained on my critiques of things), I do believe that this is definitely going to have better effects on our relations with outsiders and opponents, how people perceive us, our membership, and all that jazz.

As I've said... two times before? I like y'all, y'all force me to be mature. And I think it's a lot better that the FAQ matches that now.

-Twistey

So I came across this bit of rather crack-y theorizing about the current location of the Silmarils. It seemed like the sort of thing people here might like, so here it is.

I'll replace Azumarill with Klefki.

I think the line that most speaks to me here, oddly enough, is the comment about taping the tape to itself. It's just so distinctive, like a window into Marisa's personality.

I'm in two minds over her parents' acceptance of her story. On the one hand, it does feel very fast, despite the fact that 'that wasn't English but I understood it' must be a big pointer towards something Weird being up. But on the other hand... well, given the events so far, they're probably at least partly 'playing along' so as not to upset their daughter. That makes perfect sense to me, so yeah.

hS

And you were saying my story wasn't a classic Ordeal... ;) Talk about replacing the hero! Sounds just like It, though.

And variations of 'a wayward Instrumentality' have been bouncing around in my brain... more-or-less since 2015. Glad I got to put it someplace!

Thank you very much for your continued support (though if you sneak a reply onto the 'main storyline', so to speak, I can tag the next piece of the story onto that, and not just reply to myself. The email notifs I get help me pace myself. |D)!

Diancie
Gardevoir (Mega)
Azumarill
Primarina
Sylveon
Tapu Lele
Togekiss

We'll see how far it goes...

... about going all-in with the AI stuff. For some reason the phrase 'a wayward Instrumentality' really pleases me. ^_^ It says you're doing something very different with what started out looking like a very classic Ordeal.

I am very much enjoying this story (including this side-branch, which I agree doesn't quite fit with the flow/style of the story proper), and am very hopeful that you manage to finish it. :)

hS

PS: The plural of 'spectrum' is 'spectra', though. Sorry, scientist, can't help myself.

Jacob tried to take a step to the side, but cool fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. "My lord," Lise said, "we cannot."

"Cannot?" King Arthur's brow furrowed. "Child, this monster came from the Dark. You who serve the Light by the High Magic should be glad to see its end."

Jacob tried to pull free, but Lise had a firm grip. Frowning, he did his best to avoid eye contact with Arthur - King Arthur! In an effort to keep from freaking out, he set about identifying the route his family had taken to walk up to Llyn Cau the previous year.

"Dark though it is," Lise said, "it is still of Life." She shot Jacob a look, which he steadfastly ignored. The worn path he remembered wasn't visible - well, The Dark is Rising took place in the seventies or something, maybe they hadn't put it in yet - but he recognised a string of boulders, and the opening of a low valley.

"It serves death," Arthur told the girl in front of him. "It brings death. It has murdered oxen, farmers, even young maidens of the hills about Llyn Barfog."

The frown on Jacob's face deepened. The forest that covered the slopes of the mountain seemed distinctly closer than it should be, and… he glanced over his shoulder at the lake, and the slate-strewn slopes beyond. Everything seemed taller, crisper… older…

"But it has been driven from that lake," Lise said. "It was banished here by-"

"You, my lord," Jacob interrupted, then lowered his voice. "Arthur was the first person to banish the Afanc. I think we've been sent back in time."

"What?" Lise shook her head. "Way to drop a timeslide on a girl without warning. But I'm glad you're back with me." She straightened up, speaking for Arthur's ears again. "The creature can do no harm here," she said. "Why kill it?"

"Why?" Arthur sheathed his crystal blade, folding his arms across his chest. "For the same reason that I slew Aelle in the glory of Badon, or Rhitta the beard-taker on the highest peak of Yr Wyddfa - to put an end to them, and prevent their evil ever returning."

"But…" Jacob bit his lip, then stepped back in to Lise's side. "But we swore an Oath," he said quietly. "We swore to use our Art in Life's service, not that of the bringer of Death."

"No Art of yours is needed," King Arthur said, dropping his hand once more to the ornate hilt of his sword. "I will do the deed, and gladly; all you need do is step aside."

Lise gasped softly, but waved off Jacob's look and flipped open her Manual. Shaking his head, Jacob looked up at King Arthur again. The king's face seemed to glow slightly against the stormy sky behind him, suffused with wisdom, compassion, and the power of the High Magic - wizardry itself.

And why shouldn't I stand back? Jacob asked himself. After all, he hadn't wanted to get involved. It had been Lise who insisted on getting in Arthur's way, and now she was off reading a book, mumbling to herself as she searched for something. And the Afanc was evil - it had tried to (or would try to, or however the grammar of time travel went) attack Jane, and had terrorised the region in Arthur's time. It wasn't like Cadair Idris was in the middle of nowhere, either - anyone could wander up here, if they had a few hours to spare. It was still a danger.

And above all that, it was King Arthur asking, the King Arthur. Granted, on a scale of one to winding up in a Susan Cooper book, that wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to him today, but… how do you argue with the High King of Britain? Better to move away, let him do what was, after all, the only right and proper thing for someone from his own time.

But...

"'To these ends'," Jacob said softly, "'in the practice of my Art, I will ever put aside fear for courage, and death for life, when it is right to do so'." He straightened his shoulders and met Arthur's gaze firmly. "'Looking always towards the Heart of Time, where all our sundered times are one, and all our myriad worlds lie whole in That from Which they proceeded'. I am truly sorry, my lord, but… you cannot pass."

For the first time, a crack showed in the nobility of Arthur's face. "I can and I will," he said, thunder rumbling in his words, and the crystal sword Eirias rang as it left its sheath. "Stand aside, and you will come to no harm."

Jacob planted his feet amid the blooming heather and shook his head stubbornly. He doubted Arthur would kill them, but even if he just gently pushed them aside, it was the failure that would burn, his failing of the Afanc, of wizardry, of Lise…

And then suddenly Lise was there, closing her Manual with a sharp click. She looked up at Arthur, no fear in her eyes, though Jacob could feel her hand trembling where it gripped his wrist.

"I know you," she said quietly. She took a deep breath, and then spoke again, her voice high and clear in the mountain air: "Fairest and fallen, greetings - and defiance."

The world fell still. The heather ceased its rustling. The soft lapping of the water on the lakeshore faded away. The sky grew darker. The very mountains seemed to lean in, listening.

And Arthur laughed.

---

Author's Miscellaneous Notes:
-... yep.

hS

... than the gloriously psychedelic Dream of Rhonabwy, the youngest story in the Mabinogion. Here's a quote:

And Arthur sat upon the carpet, and Owain the son of Urien was standing before him. "Owain," said Arthur, "wilt thou play chess?"

"I will, Lord," said Owain. And the red youth brought the chess for Arthur and Owain; golden pieces and a board of silver. And they began to play.

And while they were thus, and when they were best amused with their game, behold they saw a white tent with a red canopy, and the figure of a jet-black serpent on the top of the tent, and red glaring venomous eyes in the head of the serpent, and a red flaming tongue. And there came a young page with yellow curling hair, and blue eyes, and a newly-springing beard, wearing a coat and a surcoat of yellow satin, and hose of thin greenish-yellow cloth upon his feet, and over his hose shoes of parti-coloured leather, fastened at the insteps with golden clasps. And he bore a heavy three-edged sword with a golden hilt, in a scabbard of black leather tipped with fine gold. And he came to the place where the Emperor and Owain were playing at chess.

And the youth saluted Owain. And Owain marvelled that the youth should salute him and should not have saluted the Emperor Arthur. And Arthur knew what was in Owain's thought. And he said to Owain, "Marvel not that the youth salutes thee now, for he saluted me erewhile; and it is unto thee that his errand is."

Then said the youth unto Owain, "Lord, is it with thy leave that the young pages and attendants of the Emperor harass and torment and worry thy Ravens? And if it be not with thy leave, cause the Emperor to forbid them."

"Lord," said Owain, "thou hearest what the youth says; if it seem good to thee, forbid them from my Ravens."

"Your move," said Arthur.

The entire thing is like that, with the ridiculous colours and eventually the massacre of Arthur's entire household by Owain's ravens (which, quite reasonably, causes Arthur to crush the golden chesspieces to dust). It seems to have been written for the sole purpose of irritating bards who tried to recite from memory alone.

And then, of course, there's the wonderful Culhwch and Olwen:

"I crave of thee then," said Culhwch to Arthur, "that thou obtain for me Olwen, the daughter of Yspaddaden Penkawr; and this boon I likewise seek at the hands of thy warriors. I seek it from Kai, and Bedwyr, and Greidawl Galldonyd, and Gwythyr the son of Greidawl, and Greid the son of Eri, and Kynddelig Kyvarwydd, and Tathal Twyll Goleu, and Maelwys the son of Baeddan, and Crychwr the son of Nes, and Cubert the son of Daere, and Percos the son of Poch, and Lluber Beuthach, and Corvil Bervach, and Gwynn the son of Nudd, and Edeyrn the son of Nudd, and Gadwy the son of Geraint, and Prince Fflewddur Fflam, and Ruawn Pebyr the son of Dorath, and Bradwen the son of Moren Mynawc, and Moren Mynawc himself, and..."

... and on he goes, for another two thousand words comprising the list of knights he wants Arthur to send with him. I have a copy with annotations of things like the meanings of the names, and the list is about eight pages. There's a 3000-word list of tasks Culhwch has to do a bit later, too...

Anyway, Arthurian legend is ridiculous and the Welsh are bad at writing.

hS

Being so used to modern fiction, I have a strong desire for all the known Arthurian material to interconnect like a book series, with internal consistency and characterization and clear plot threads. I know that isn't the case, though, since it all started as word-of-mouth legends with multiple authors contributing, so of course, every individual piece is at least somewhat self-contained. They just weren't designed to be consumed the way The Hunger Games, for example, was. It's kind of a shame. :(

—doctorlit, wanting to read it all

In the last part of the Morte d'Arthur, Gawain and Lancelot have a big, multi-day fight. During the fight, Lancelot discovers that Gawain's strength increases massively as the day heads towards noon, only to drop off again in the afternoon.

I always figured that this is actually the girdle/belt at play, though Mallory never says as much. We already know it's a finicky piece of magic (it doesn't actually protect Gawain completely), so this would fit perfectly as a different tradition about it.

hS