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...what does a badfic sporkable by DOGA look like? Because I have a couple agent ideas that I feel are really good, who I put in that department, but on the other hand, from what I've seen, it doesn't look like there'll be much in DOGA stuff, and I have some equally decent agent ideas in the Department of Floaters.

Also, what would happen to an agent in the DBS as a consequence for making an attempt on their partner's life? I'm trying to double-check the backstory of another agent idea, thinking she'll be moved to another department (which?), but it might be otherwise.

-Twistey

I'm pretty sure Astartes are at least slightly understatted in 40k, but even if they aren't, Psychics are as close to confirmed as working the way they do in the game as is possible.

So Thoth is underpowered regardless.

It's both a fun circular reference and exactly how a Manual would have tried to snag me, back in the day. I have no clue if the rest of the series is also a thing, in this story? But that's not the point.

I love the background behind it, and the idea of the Manual basically being one of the series. But more than that I just love the way you've written it.

hS

Purple is great fun, and I'm glad he's getting a following. As for the glow spell, I have plans for it. Comic plans. =]

Thanks for your kindness. =]

I was pretty pleased with that little thought, and just how much wizards and magic has affected history and culture. It's no coincidence that Siobhan's Manual took the form of a famous book on ethnography.

The joke about what year is it is, er, nicked shamelessly from Night Watch by PTerry. I just couldn't resist a line like that.

Thanks again for the positivity. =]

Thanks for the point about spells being spoken; I should have grokked that, given how magic is called the Speech, and I'll amend that in future chapters. It's all a learning experience! =]

I'm glad you like Purple - he's great fun to write too! I couldn't help the music refs in the way he views magic, and I would apologise for that but I know my audience. The whole thing is based on how much parrots and cockatoos and that love loud noises. There's a great video of a bloke kicking the tar out of a crappy old cage with his cockatoo screeching along in time. =]

Oh, and the botched glow spell? I did that deliberately. Let's just say that there's a reason why I had it go tits up the way I did. =]

Thanks once again for your kind words. It means a lot. =]

The bookstore was practically a warren- it had expanded one room at a time through what once had been a trio of apartments, shelves growing like creeping vines along walls and down hallways. It smelled like books, the unique scent of old paper saturating the air.

Julia wandered. It was raining- the walls were thin enough that she could hear it beating down, even from a room away from the outdoors. She was in the fiction section- somewhere in the ‘C’s, between the old comfort of Bujold and the futurist wonder of Doctorow, when her fingers found something familiar.

The Wizards’ Oath. An old hardback, missing its dust jacket to show the simple binding beneath. Julia pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open.

She had read it before, she decided, as she paged through the first chapter, still wandering the bookstore. It was familiar- children swearing an oath to protect life from entropy, cloaked in christian-compatible imagery of a Dark One who had turned from the path of life. Magic was language- the Speech- although she could have sworn that in her memories, in the printing she’d held years ago, the curly blocks of the Speech had been a cursive script, familiar words in fancy clothes. These were something else- deep, dense, the curling glyphs had a rhythm to them but meaning danced out of reach.

The story turned into an adventure, as Julia’s favorite fiction was want to do- she only barely noticed the chair, tucked away in a convenient corner, or that she was sitting in it. She wasn’t just skimming any more, she was reading, page after page. How had she not loved this book? How had she only barely remembered it?

And then, on a page halfway into the story, a creature of the darkness killed one of the characters.

Julia was no stranger to character death- sacrifice and redemption were regular occurrences in fiction. But this one was different. It wasn’t a noble sacrifice, a hero laying down their life for their companions. It wasn’t a byronic fall, a person redeeming their unredeemable flaw by dying for it. It was just… death. Sudden, shocking, unfair. The darkness had reached for a person and she hadn’t been able to stop it and now she was gone.

Julia distinctly remembered closing the book there, returning it to the shelf, leaving the library.

Not this time. Julia turned the page, kept reading.

The story continued, chapters passed, evil was defeated- not perfectly, not without sacrifice, not permanently. But it did end, three hundred pages after it had begun, and… a curious distance from the closing cover of the book.

“Appendices?” Julia asked nobody in particular, and turned to the next page.

Appendix A: The Oath

There was a page’s worth of warnings. While the narrative was fiction, the Oath, the Art, the Speech- and most importantly the Enemy were all terrifyingly real, or so the book said. To swear the Oath was to reshape your life, or even lose it. This was the real world, not fiction, and the real world killed people.

And then there it was, a block of text set aside from the rest, starting with In Life’s name and for Life’s sake.

It seemed- well, not silly. They were serious words, but she’d plucked the book from a shelf full of books full of serious words. But at the same time…

Bookstores were usually quiet, this one was no exception. But right now, even though the rain was still beating on the windows and steam was hissing in the radiators and the floor overhead was creaking as someone moved, the little corner Julia was in was unusually quiet. Like the universe was waiting. Like the universe was listening.

Julia read through the Oath again, more carefully, not quite mouthing the words as she went. They were good words- she could agree with them, even if they were nothing other than a promise to herself.

She took a breath and read the Oath to the listening room. For an instant, it felt like she was on a stage, reading to a room full of… everything. For an instant, it felt like the everything exhaled, letting out a breath it had held for fifteen years.

And then there was someone else, leaning on the shelf, looking down at her with a bit of a smile.

“I’m afraid we’re closing,” the shopkeeper said, “and I must kick you out into the rain. Come on, I’ll get you at the front counter.”

Julia followed, book tucked under her arm. She didn’t expect to read it again terribly soon? But something was telling her that she couldn’t just swear an oath and then walk away.

Also, I think of the MEQ thing as more of a case of Space Marines not living up to the hype. Games Workshop states that much of the fiction is propaganda, or otherwise inaccurate in-universe. For example, they used this to get around the existence of C.S. Goto's Dawn Of War novels:

https://regimental-standard.com/2017/10/18/5-reasons-to-despise-the-perfidious-aeldari/

(Part 4 of the article is where this comes into effect.)

It's small, its dingy, and the holos are suggestive.

The Truth Hurts: Dust in the Wind, by Metool Bard (Spoilers for "Wonderbolt Academy" and "Rarity Investigates")

This is a one-shot in which an OC named "Haymaker teaches Lightning Dust a lesson the only way she'll understand[,]" using an unexpected visit from Wind Rider as an object lesson.

Of course, there had been a lot more than just reading involved - not that it made Marisa love her new program any less! If she'd had any mobile form of computer, she would have loved to have been able to take it from place to place. As it was, she only got time to progress on the readings in the evenings (as long as she did her normal schoolwork - unlike in the Harry Potter books, she'd learned she was not going to be taken to a faraway place where her home worries would cease to matter), and to practice some of the associated exercises on her own time.

The exercises had also gotten strange - not strange bad, but in the sense that she was learning what seemed like a foreign language (something else her parents would have been pleased with - as it was, they just thought she had gotten increasingly studious and better mannered. There were worse things.), and being tested in her comprehension on that through her readings. And, almost naturally it seemed, there had been writing and vocal exercises to go with it as well.

All to the good, as far as Marisa was concerned, for the stories were amazing. Never before had she seen fiction (or nonfiction) from the perspective of AI that seemed - somehow - so accurate.

Maybe that other worlds thing is real! she thought with glee- only to be brought to reality by a familiarly distressing buzzing.

Such was the pain of being outside - bugs. Sure, she couldn't think of one solid reason they made her so upset; maybe it was the noise they made, that they were so often small and fast (and could get in her face), that they could sting her, or maybe it was because when they got in the house everyone got upset.

So, switching moods from "cheerful at school and her new AR program" to "EXCESSIVE DISTRESS", she screamed.

/Go AWAY, bug!/

It had come out in that new language she'd been learning - but no one else on the playground had looked at her odd. In fact, the only being that really noticed was exactly that bug, which flinched and, somehow surprising Marisa, flew away a short distance.

/Not so loud!/ the bug replied - and Marisa's eyes went wide. /Why don't you just run away from me, like most humans do?/

Marisa had been surprised, so the bug - a bee, maybe? - got an honest answer.

/Uh, okay. I can do that next time...? Just please go away; I don't like bugs,/ she said quickly.

She got an impression of a /harrumph/ from the bee, which then flew away obligingly, back over the nearby fence. Apparently being polite had worked.

Well, her program's agreement had said 'all sentient beings'. She just hadn't really considered that bugs counted.

Learn something new everyday, she thought slowly - then deliberately turned back to the playground, vowing to be more polite to bugs. Maybe they'd leave her alone, then...

Purple is my new favourite bird (though don't let Peach hear me say that). I love his description of magic as he sees it - you've excellently melded worldview and nature together.

The one thing that worries me is the 'rough approximation' of her light spell. The Speech is a perfectionist's tool - mucking up the lines could lead to Issues down the line. Obviously it did, with the parameters for brightness being all out of whack - but I'm concerned that if the Manual provided her name for her (in very simplified form, since she didn't have to put in any parameters), she might have messed that up...

(Oh, also you have to speak a spell to get it to run. The diagram is actually the less-essential half.)

hS

And the Primal Scream sounds... very odd, but also very much canon-like. It's a good combo. :>

Hope that glow spell comes back again! Or gets turned off; whichever happens first.

Doesn't me explaining why I shouldn't be elected count -4?

HG, still clinging to his cosy corner :-)

I love the Gordian Knot reference- that is such a clever connection of ideas!

Purple is also going to be great fun. Magic as the art of screaming at things!

I'm not sure how "what year is this?" fits into the dialogue? The answer is great, and shoes some of how Purple thinks about the world, but it seems out of place and not necessary to get to the punchline.

Julia’s day had been a lot like the previous day- gray and empty. Part of this was due to the weather- the year was grinding to its dark conclusion, days shrunk to eight hours of rain-choked dimness before the long nights. Most of it, though, was that she still clung to the belief that she was a boy named James.

She did a reasonable James impression. The name and gender had been hung on her at birth, like a sign, and she’d gotten used to their weight. Mostly. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care. It worked. Mostly.

But in the dark afternoons of the dark months of yet another year, it all felt.. Hollow.

And so she was wandering. Looking for an adventure- she'd certainly read enough books like that, a wandering child drawn into a fantastic adventure. Not that she was a child any more. But somehow, she didn't feel like an adult, either- she was caught in the in-between place, stuck in an emptiness she couldn't let herself describe.

And so she was wandering. The day was starting to fade, or maybe it was just the clouds thickening.

Second chances sold cheap, caught her eye, and it took her a moment to realize it was a small sign in the window of a used book store. There was a whole collage of them, little notes, advertisements. On second look, she couldn't even see what she'd thought she'd seen- there was used books sold cheap and second-hand books and the name of the place, Twice-Sold Tales, text knocked out of alignment by the cat sitting on it.

It was starting to rain, it was starting to darken. A bookstore seemed like a reasonable place to catch her breath, browse a bit. The girl who thought she was a boy named James opened the door and stepped inside.

Since the nomination thread is rather dead at the moment and about to fall off the front page, it's about time to call some elections and ask for more opinions in others.

First off, I think it's safe to say, Larfen J. Stocke, esq. and Hieronymus Graubart, please come to the podium to receive your official Permission Giver hats! Congratulations, both of you.

Second, to keep all the results in one place, Akrinor has been elected as a Discord moderator for about two weeks now.

Third, I, Tomash was nominated for moderator (which, if it had gone through, would have been my second time holding that position per this post). Given that PoorCynic objected, and not many people actually had an opinion, I'm going to say the nomination fails (barring the case that almost no one actually saw the nomination and a whole pile of people come out to be in favor of it).

Now, on to potentially unfinished business:

doctorlit has six votes below, and the only person who's unsure about the nomination is doctorlit himself, who's concerned he won't be active enough to be a good PG. I'm currently interpreting his post about this as being hesitant about taking the job but not actually turning it down, so I'll say if we get another 5-6 more people in support of the nomination, doctorlit will get a hat too.

- Tomash

Siobhan kept reading. And reading. The Oath she'd taken hadn't affected her thought patterns, not exactly; rather, everything seemed heightened somehow, as if the world had suddenly come into focus. She still didn't entirely believe, though. So what do you do when you don't believe a claim? You test it.

She flicked through the chapters for something basic, something that would deliver demonstrable effects with no other explanation. Extraordinary claims required extraordinary evidence and all that.

The book responded almost as soon as she had the thought. A diagram caught her eye, purporting to be an inscription on a gold dish from the La Tene culture. It was a simple little spell, insofar as anything involving magic was simple, to make an object glow. Perfect for her purposes. Siobhan grabbed a felt-tip whiteboard marker and a T-shirt she never wore any more and got to work.

The marker scratched and caught in the fabric, and Siobhan's arm twitched sometimes, but the result was a very rough approximation of the design on the golden dish. The circle containing the spell's wording was thick and dark as a gathering storm. It also seemed too small and too big at the same time; perhaps an artifact of the inexact transcription of the spell. Oh well, she thought, Here goes nothing.

She drew the final twisting shape, the Wizard's Knot that tied it all together. She was suddenly reminded of Gordius and his Knot; was he a wizard, and the beautiful Alexander some avatar or servant of the Lo- It, she corrected herself- with that idea of breaking knots as a simple, effective solution to unsolvable problems being an end goal of It, affecting the ability of humanity to practice magic...

Or maybe she was talking bollocks. It could quite easily be that.

Her musings on the nature of long-dead kings and emperors was interrupted by the beginning of the spell. True to form, the shirt began to glow a soft orange colour... and then it began to get brighter. A lot brighter. Siobhan yelped and ran to shove the incandescent shirt in a suitcase and zip it up tight. Then she sat down on the edge of her bed and shivered for a few minutes.

This Speech, the source code of the universe, was magic. Real, honest to God magic. Okay, so she knew how it was done, but that never stopped anything being magic. And it worked, as the shirt proved. Smegging hell. She looked out of the window, at the kind old sun casting shadows through the trees, at the green parakeet sat on the window ledge, at the sea and the burnt-blue sky.

Siobhan opened the window and leaned out, letting the sea wind fill her world. She looked at the parakeet. It looked back.

"Dai stiho, cousin," she said, largely out of curiosity.

"Dai stiho," replied the bird. "Always nice to meet another servant of the Primal Scream, even one whose accent is atrocious."

"What." Siobhan jerked up and bashed her head on the window. "Ow. Smeg. What? I'm talking to a parakeet. Who is also a wizard. What?"

"Skree, you must be newly hatched. How long have you heard the Noise?"

"What year is this?"

"Twelfth Soar of the Twenty-eighth Great Turning."

"About... half an hour then."

"Skree," said the parakeet. "Name's Eats-The-Purple-Fruits. You got one, cousin?"

"Siobhan. Er. Siobhan Jones. Nice to meet you. Er. How long have you been a wizard?"

"Three flights. Years. I'm a bit of an oldie."

"Well, I've lucked out then. Can you... teach me? Is teaching a thing? My book of magic is being a bit obtuse."

"Old wizards don't teach so much as guide, Siobhan Er Siobhan Jones. We trade power for experience and finesse. Besides, magic doesn't work the same for everyone. Starlings work spells with their own bodies, crows write them in fields, seagulls... well, seagulls is where it gets a bit distressing, if I'm honest. Parakeets like me? We scream at the air. We call to the world and the High Shadows and work the Noise into art. We read magic from the currents and thermals, and we call to echo the Primal Scream. That's our book of magic, Siobhan Er Siobhan Jones. And it won't work for you."

"Then, er. Can you guide me?"

"Sure. What's in it for me?"

"I can get you a pretty ready supply of fat balls from the local garden centre-"

"Sold. Right. You don't have to, by the by, I was just trying it on."

"No no, a deal's a deal. I'm not a thief. And just call me Siobhan."

"Call me Purple then."

Siobhan backed up and let Purple fly in through the window. The parakeet flew around a bit before perching on the radiator on the back wall. He poked experimentally at the orange suitcase, then took to the air again.

"Okay then, Siobhan. Where do you want to start?"

---

hS has Kaitlyn, Scapegrace has... a small green bird. Hurrah. =]

Currently: on Coruscant

Welcome to the capital planet of the galaxy, and hub of culture and government everywhere (with some exceptions). Now, you're not out of the woods yet (except in that there are no forests on Coruscant), but your chances of survival have just increased dramatically. So that's good!

Before you go anywhere, it'd be good to know what sort of building you're outside.

-It's huge and impressive, and the holos are of an old white guy's face.
-It's small and dingy, and the holos show food.
-It's small and dingy, and the holos show... uh... well, they're probably not suitable for kids.
-It's a giant spacescraper, and the holos are mostly text.
-I think the fact that the holos are flashing red while an alarm blares is probably more important.

Currently: attempting to borrow Artoo

It sounds like you've got this all figured out - soon you won't need a Mysterious Voice from Above at all! At any rate, your quarry (sorry, 'prospective rescue-ee') and the droid you need should both be back on the Royal Starship, so head there now!

...

Are you there?
-Yes, and Queen Amidala is super happy to see me.
-Yes, but now Captain Panaka has me at gunpoint.
-No, because the Queen is staying with Shmi Skywalker, foolish Voice.
-No, because that's where the duel is, duh.
-I tried to fly there in my stolen ship and now I'm somehow in hyperspace.

(And to answer your other question here: AR is Accelerated Reading, or something like that. At my school, you read a book from the library, then answered 10 questions about it in a computer program to see how much you paid attention. Trivia, character reasonings and so forth. If you got enough questions right/points from the quizzes, you could get a prize at - the end of each month, I think? It was mostly trinkets.)

Anyway, I do like the dialogue and what actions were incorporated with it. :) And the mangled Irish.