19-01-2014, 08:42 AM
Me? In Harry Potter, I ship Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, (Draco/Ginny - fanfic only), James/Lily, Severus/Lily...
In the Glee fandom, I used to ship Sam/Quinn, then Sam/Mercedes, and I've always shipped Finn/Rachel and Kurt/Blaine. I haven't watched a single episode of Season 5, though, so I'm pretty far behind on who's together and who isn't.
The following 1 user Likes Rebecca Ripple's post:1 user Likes Rebecca Ripple's post
21-01-2014, 11:34 PM
A decade or so ago I wrote a few pieces of Dragonlance fan fiction, mostly in the humour vein. I no longer have My DL site up, but some of the pieces have been kenderized (i.e., found their way onto other peoples' DL sites). At this link, for instance, I'm the author or co-author of "When you might be obsessing..." and the Krynnish Dating Game.
02-02-2014, 08:24 PM
I've...done some stuff.
I was once quite enamored of the setting/fantasy reality that is "Iron Kingdoms"
Flight or FIGHT!
Flight or FIGHT!
Branches whipped at his face, undergrowth tugged at his trouser legs as he bounded a fallen log in his path. In his eight or so years in the service to the scout corps he'd never run from a threat, evaded, outmaneuvered and hidden but on this day Sergeant Gunter Ryley wasn't ashamed to admit to himself he was fleeing for his life. Hidden behind him amongst the forest something pursued his headlong flight. Gunter’s one clear thought was,
*Must. Run. Faster.* just in front of him he could make out the back of the Lieutenant to whom he'd been assigned to undertake the supposedly 'safe' mission. When he'd initially heard the Lieutenant’s name his reaction had been to collapse onto his bunk and hang his head between his knees. At the moment he was just immensely glad that said Lieutenant’s War caster armor, from the funnel of which a thin streamer of smoke trailed in the figures wake, wasn't slowing them down.
Lieutenant Allison McCain raced through the 'light woods', as her Sergeant had called them not a day ago. As her breath burnt in her throat and lungs, she concentrated both on keeping her armor coated legs from tangling in the scrub and the bobbing blond pony tail of Scout Katerine 'Kat' Denby in sight, though she was managing to swear on every second exultation now. She took a brief moment to mentally thank the gods, currently a grab bag with their names all inside, for her war-caster armor being of the 'light' variety since it meant she only needed it 'idling' to generate enough power to run in the bl@dy stuff. Of course that didn't stop the thing being confining and awkward and Allison was glad she'd borrowed one of the Scouts 'bandannas' to hold down her hair since, at the moment, it was doing a great job of keeping back the sweat that plastered her black mane to her head.
The ground had begun to level out and the trees to thin allowing more of her mind to think about what was happening, about what had happened. A simple first independent mission, the task of sneaking over the river, getting more 'behind' enemy lines, find any Khard forces, count the legs and divide by two (Or four as the case may be) and then sneak back with the gist of what they'd seen.
Allison had been assigned a bunch of Cygnars finest tree skippers to brighten the mood and highlight the more scenic aspects of the countryside. It had been a credit to the bunch of them that they’d only been in country a day or so before finding some, said same, Khardorans. Sergeant Ryley had been startled to come across so many bad guys moving about but Allison hadn't been so surprised at all, well not as 'expletive-ly' as the Sergeant.
Anyway, it was an enemy's job to annoy and harass and she'd been glad the Khards were going about and doing their job so thoroughly. The trouble had been the Khardoran Bush Buggerers who'd found them as well. Again Allison made a mental note to work harder at surprising the enemy in future.
Nash Langswroth loped along, as the tallest amongst the Scouts his long legs ate up the distance while his gait made it seem as if he were just stepping over some of the smaller lying obstructions. As the trees gave way to the rough, rubble strewn riverbank. He gave a huff of relief as he slowed his pace slightly to pick his way across the rocky ground; they should have enough distance between themselves and their pursuit to get the boats away and be safely out in deep water before they were caught up to.
Glancing about he checked his bearings, noting landmarks both near and distant, as he zeroed in on the spot of riverbank where the groups transport had been drawn up and concealed. Racing up to the water edge he began to regain his breath as he looked about amongst the long tussocky grass and low shrubs scattered about. Langsworth's eyes picked out the anchor rope to the barge and followed it back towards…the...water... .As around and beside him the rest of the group stumbled to a huffing, winded halt. In the distance behind them came the echo of crashing trees from the denser wood.
"Yes, yes. I remember your lessons on the medicinal use of mosses, thank you Scout master Langsworth for all those lessons," Lieutenant McCain raced up to the river bank, huffing but obviously wanting to hustle her troops along, "But I think you'll agree with the good Sergeant Ryley that we're all in a bit of a hurry and every body agrees it's time to...go...?" Her voice trailed off in a surprised squeak. She knew they were in the right spot, even her nascent bush craft could tell that much. She could even see the prow of their 'skiff' under its covering of bushes just to her right.
What caused her consternation was that the rest of the long boat had been sheared away, its ruined hull lying jumbled and submerged off in the river current. To her left where before a large barge had been drawn up under the concealing shade of an over hanging willow, now only the anchor line trailed away into the rivers dark, turgid depths.
"Oooo...cr@p..." She breathed softly. A soft rustling of foliage a decent way off to the group’s right caught their attention and had all seven of them turning and raising weapons as a sun bronzed figure in furs stood up, grinning at their plight.
"Awe, poor leedle svans. Too afraid to get feadders vet?" The powerfully built fellow called in a thick accent, while casually holding a large hand axe nonchalantly across one shoulder, with a second such weapon in a sheath at the small of his back.
"Oopsie! It Look like you boat, zhey haff a leedle accident? They don't float so goot no more." The Khardoran Manhunter chortled deeply. More a rumble from his chest than a laugh, as he theatrically spun his axe off his shoulder with one hand and stroked his thick black beard around his smile of white teeth. The sounds of trees smashing grew louder.
Allison snarled as anger sparked inside her. The heat of her ire sweeping through her body as she stepped forward and drew her pistols, snapping them to bear upon the Khardoran. The barge and its contents had cost her a small personal fortune to acquire.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
The Lieutenant’s guns blazed away, each cycling and spitting a second round as the mechanica nature of the devises reloaded the weapons seamlessly. Allison was impressed, the Khardoran managed to both pull his second axe as well as deflect two of her pistol rounds with the blades. She was smugly pleased at the surprised look on the Manhunter’s face as her second rounds had slammed home and taken him down.
The Scouts looked on impressed at the range, accuracy and rate of fire of the Lieutenant’s pistols. Young 'Kat' glanced from her rifle to McCain's pistols; she'd definitely be addressing some caliber issues when she got home. Allison turned back to the Scouts, pistols twirling back into holsters,
"Right! Quinnt, Gowan! Unpack those inflatables! Katerine? Strip out the bracing’s on the backpacks. Gafneagh and Langworth get to fitting the metal work into the rubber dinghies, that should give them a bit more back bone for the paddle across the river!" Her orders had the Scouts 'hopping to it'. Sergeant Ryley stepped up to her and whispered confidentially,
"Y'know them blow ups'll only hold three apiece, Ma'am?" She heard the uncertainty in his voice.
"Yes Mr. Ryley," She whispered back, "I can do math’s. It's one of the harder things they force us command types to learn." She smiled in reply, then held up a hand to forestall anything as Gunter bristled mistaking her humor for sarcasm.
"There are six of you, two boats. That's two groups to get back with the information of what's coming down on Northguard." She stated simply looking directly into the Sergeants eyes and they shared a look of understanding. He dropped his gaze first, then looking away to the far bank of the river and nodded his face grim. Allison looked to the forest and the rising columns of smoke emerging from the rent canopy as trees continued to fall, toppled out of the way as their pursuers drew ever closer.
"Right! You lot! Get those dinghies inflated!" Gunter waved away 'Kats' comment about oars. "There's two boats, two paddles, one per boat. How many more d'you need? We'll just have t' make do with th' rifle stocks. We're scouts, we improvise! Langworth, Gaf? Start spelling Quinnt and Gowan at the pumps. Come on lads! The sooner th' boats're afloat the sooner we're all across." He turned and gave Allison a wink, "The me an' Langworth c'n come back fer th' Lieutenant here!" Gunter’s last comment had all the Scouts surprised, they faltered briefly in their preparations and glanced nervously at one another as the arithmetic of their situation dawned on them. Young Denby slowed her work at refitting the backpack frames into the boats and looked nervously towards Allison. She chewed her lip and Allison caught the look,
"Katerine, did you leave everything on the barge just like I asked you?" The Scout nodded, braid twitching.
"Good! No worries then!" Allison grinned and smiled happily, then her voice shifting pitch,
"Now you lot! Get your digits out and get HOPPING!" she barked, re-motivating the troops. Quickly the water proof, airtight bladders were inflated, the bracing was put in place that had been scavenged from the frames of their backpacks and the replacement 'boats' were being carried into the swirls of the current at the rivers edge. The Scouts continued to look unsure as one after another they splashed aboard, still with the occasional worried glance being thrown in Allison’s direction. As Gunter pushed his rifle butt through the water for the first time he glanced over his shoulder and saw the first of the pursuing enemy break clear of the tree line.
Standing almost twice the height of a man, the Khardoran War-jack held the uprooted trunk of a small tree in one large metal fist, as its stacks chuffed smoke and steam into the sky from the effort of tearing its multi-ton bulk through the forest. Tossing the felled lumber away with a casual seeming ease, the War-jack shoulder its way completely clear of the foliage and walked forwards, its eye plates aglow and scanning, a second machine appeared pushing further trees out of its way to make room for a third. All the Scouts blanched at this display of mechanika and bent their backs to row faster.
Allison McCain stood her ground, her booted ankles almost lapped by the flowing river at her back. All three machines armored carapace was covered in the blood red enamel that signified elite Khardoran units. The massive hands of all but one were simple curled fists; each backed by large, spiked metal plates. Three sets of double stacks chuffed fire; ash and steam skywards as the two lead machines stepped left and right making room for the third War-jack to step to the fore. It raised the great mechanika axe it held in one hand as a way of salute and Allison stared into human eyes where vision plates of a 'Jack should be.
"Ah, the rabbit has run its course." The man's voice issuing from within the hulking twelve-ton construct sounded strange. An echoing, hollowness affecting its tones as the machinery within the modified Kodiac chassis augmented the sound over the roar of boilers, heartfires, steam and hydraulics systems. Kommander Karchev stepped forward.
"Your last name wouldn't be Cathmore, would it?" As he spoke a strange look came across his pale, scarred visible features. Allison smiled and straightened, focusing on the face of the man and not the thirty odd tons of destruction arrayed before her.
"Nope, sorry to disappoint. If I see one I'll be sure t' let 'em know you're in the neighborhood." She gave a lop sided grin. "Perhaps, sounding all 'Nobility' like, they'll arrange tea and biscuits?" Her gaze moved up and down Karchev's hulking metal body. "Um, perhaps you should bring a straw?" She tilted her head knowingly at Kharchev's figure, then made a dainty motion of lifting cup and saucer, one pinky extended. She saw the man's eye flicker to an arm of the machine that was his body before focusing back upon her with a deeper scowl.
"You show spirit commander...?" His voice trailed off, though it showed no hint of him rising to Allison's verbal 'bait'.
"Lieutenant Allison McCain." She smiled and waived him a salute.
"Allison Mc Cain?" Karchev looked puzzled and sounded intrigued by her surname, though now it was Allison's turn to scowl, shake her head and wave her hands negatively,
"No, no. NO relation. Just one of those coincidences of life." She quickly replied, though a hint of anger still showed on her features at the implied association. Karchev sighed, another weird sound from the man/machine, as he looked away his expression seemed almost bored now. The Kodiacs to either flank of him continued to slowly sidle away from him, the better to keep her hedged in against the riverbank by a semi-circle of steel.
"Surrender." A single word, delivered with no emotion, no inflection of feeling or care. Allison theatrically crossed one hand to an elbow and her other to point a finger to a cheek.
"Um, let me think about that for a minute. Hmmm, nope! Sorry, you're going to have to actually work at catching your rabbits!" Her hands blurred to her hips.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Karchev lifted his axe, Slaughter, up before his face as the Cygnaran's shoulders shifted. He heard the cracking report of her pistols sound. The trilling ring of metal striking metal. He was long inured to the prodigious rates of fire exhibited by Cygnaran weapons, what did cause him to blink in surprise, however, was that none of the wench’s rounds hit him. Glancing to his left from were the sounds of impact issued, he saw the Kodiac there venting steam and hydraulic fluid from large holes in the machines shoulder plates, even as he caught the motion of the girl scampering along the river bank in that direction.
He snarled as he poured focus into both Kodiacs, and his own metal body's turbine, pushing the enormous machines into a lumbering, earth shaking run. He grit his teeth, the minx would not escape back into the forest to lead him on another chase. As the War-jacks drove through the bushes and scrub of the river bank, metal feet clipping rocks and kicking off shards and raising dust, to head off Allison's path of flight even as she stumbled to a halt with one boot splashing into the river.
"Whoops!" She exclaimed, regaining her balance half stepped into the river as she was, feeling the cold of the water through the thick leather of her boot. Karchev and his machines smashed through the terrain of the riverbank before slowing and turning to face her again.
"Ah, you are like the fox brought to bay by the hounds!" His rumbling voice carrying easily over the sounds of the river and the mechanika of war. Karchev redirected his focus and a wall of mystical force sprang across the gap between his form and the hulls of the Kodiacs to either side.
"And like any fox driven from the hen house, steps have to be taken to remove the threat, to make the house secure again." Allison watched the Kodiacs slowly begin to step diagonally away from Karchev, both widening the line as well as drawing the two far edges closer to the river, putting their large metal fists in range to strike at her should any attempt at flight bring her close to them.
The strange wall of force expanded across the increasing gap. Its presence marked by a roiling sheen as if a gray film of oil, or a giant dirty soap bubble had been stretched between each. As she noted the occasional shrub or other detritus come into contact with the barrier, she watched it get viciously wrenched and shoved about and she knew that going through the arcane field was not an option.
Out on the river the Scouts pushed their oars and paddles through the water Fervently. Shoving their rifle butts fiercely into the water, willing the bobbing and twisting craft to move faster through the water. While keeping the jostling bows of the craft directed upstream, the crews fighting partially against the current of the river to prevent from being swept further down stream while battling across its width as fast as they could. 'Kat' glanced over a shoulder and gasped when she saw the three great constructs and the wall between them towering over the shape of the War-caster, how it was slowly moving closer towards the bank.
"Stop gawkin' an' keep paddlin'!" Gunter huffed angrily, she nodded and focused on her task at hand.
Allison McCain began to hesitantly step backwards. Splashing into the swirling waters, feeling each step with a cautiously placed boot heel. She had so much adrenaline running through her system that she hardly noticed the cold water as it began to soak through her clothes. Concentrating on her footing while holding her pistols well clear of the rivers tumbling surface and her eyes on Karchev and his 'pets' in case they made any sudden movements.
"You know." She called, "I can understand why you sound in such a bad mood." She continued to grin at Karchev's slightly puzzled expression, glad that the Khardoran War-caster was as focused on maintaining his magical field, "That nose of yours much Itch something shocking!" Though she didn't see his reaction as she suddenly had to catch her balance, her feet twisting on the weed slick rocks on the river bottom. Water splashed around he hips. Karchev did glower as his anger was riled by the impudence of the Cygnaran’s jibes.
"It is a shame you are not a Cathmore. Though for you I think I will find some satisfaction in you death." He called to her.
Allison nodded back somewhat absently as well. Her features twisted in concentration. Every step behind her had been with a tapping drag of a heel along the sunken barges anchor rope. Internally she was focused on her 'arcane sight', one of the distinguishing gifts of a Pistol Mage. This time she was looking 'backwards' and 'down' into the murky depths, tracing the line back to the sunken barge and its submerged cargo. Suddenly, to her sight, shapes loomed up black and silent out of the murky swirling silty water. Stopping her retreat waist high in the river she shifted her focus to a different and trickier task and wondered just how much of a surprise she'd be able to make out on Karchev's face.
The transformed Khardoran War-caster moved his 'wall' forward slowly, continuing to concentrate on hedging the Cygnaran in. The lass was backing ever further into the river shallows, eventually she would have to stop or risk falling into the deeper water of the rivers central course. He didn't care how she chose her end, if she would rather risk being swept away ad dragged to a watery doom by her quenched Caster armor so be it. He himself was in no hurry to follow her, since for him an extinguished boiler meant certain doom. The close proximity to the river laced all of his motions with caution, though his frustration at not having brought a Destroyer to hand rubbed at him. He'd chosen his personal Kodiacs the better to clear a path at speed through the forest and keep the scouting group 'contained'.
He wondered if he would be reduced to simply picking things up and throwing them at the wench. The idea brought a rueful smile to his features as he remembered a time long past of pleasant strolls along shaded stream banks and the child hood fun of tossing rocks into the water to sink twigs . He looked down and his eye alighted on a 'small' rock. transferring Sunder to his 'off' hand he bent and picked it up, testing its weight before hefting the stone out into the river. As he followed its arc, he registered the questioning signal from one of the Kodiacs. With his grin widening he gave instructions to his two machines and soon all three were bending, sorting, retrieving and launching stones out into the rivers flow to splash and spray all about the object of their attention. As some of the resulting shots came close to hitting the girl, he almost laughed at her sodden expression as the gouts of water sprayed over her.
Suddenly his pleasant revere was broken as he felt an arcane 'surge'. Flexing defensively he searched and 'felt' for the manifestation of the magical effect the woman had cast. Maintaining his field he glanced to either side and saw no change in his Kodiacs and the Girl still stood waist deep in the river. He thought harder, trying to analyze the fading trace of power. Then he saw the arcane glow in McCain's eyes, the sign that she too was communing with War-jacks. Startled he turned one Kodiac to scan into the forest, looking for a 'Jack that he may have missed powered down amongst the foliage, He shifted a small amount of focus into the Kodiac, preparing it to charge against some light scouting 'Jack such as a 'Hunter' class chassis.
Suddenly he saw them. Two large hulking shapes rising swiftly from the depths of the river to stand either side of McCain. Within seconds the dripping stacks and upper hulls of the machines burst from the waters and Karchev found himself staring into the glowing, glassed in ports of Mariner class labor-jacks. As their vents came clear of the river they opened with a 'clank' and then a belch of smoke and ash erupted form their stacks as the machines switched from their internal systems to 'breathing' clear air.
Allison McCain grinned, completely oblivious to the cold river waters swirling about her, as to her left and right her Mariners raised the cannon they each held and she poured her arcane might into their systems.
The wounded Kodiac was hammered under the double blows of the cannons. Instantly blasted to scrap under the augmented power of the Cygnaran War-caster.
"Still think I'm just a leddle fox?!" Allison yelled, jamming her pistols into her breastplate in an effort to keep them dry, before quickly beginning the cycle of reloading one of her Mariner's cannon. Karchev's throat issued a growl of hate and anger in response. He threw his anger and power into arcane force, willing the very ground to rise up and blast away the impudent b#tch. His remaining Kodiac turned towards the new threats.
From some where close behind Allison there came a whoosh and gout of spray and she winced as a surge of water buffeted her into the 'Jack she was working on. She grabbed at the rope lines on the machine’s shoulder for support as the water sucked back into the river. The drizzling cloud of water that fell over her momentarily veiled her vision. Secretly she was glad the big Khardoran lug liked hitting things with his axe. He couldn't throw a ranged attack to strike the broad side of a Colossus.
Sweeping wet hair from her eyes with the back of a wet sleeve she finished reloading just in time to see the second Kodiac come charging into the river at her. She didn't think, just reacted, pulling both pistols awkwardly and poured energy into her Mage-Locks. The huge ten-ton machine, running at full steam, sloughed into the river shallows and losing speed as it forced its way through the water, its bluff form raiseing an impressive bow wave before it. Then Allison's blast of arcane energy struck it. Such was the power focused through the guns that the Khardoran's charge not only stopped, the machine was actually forced backwards.
The Kodiac's cortex streamed impulses to the giant machine's systems as it fought to remain upright. With arms flailing and systems straining the War-jack stumbled trying to maintain its balance only to have the treacherous stream bed shift suddenly beneath its legs, sending the 'Jack tumbling backwards. An eruption of steam exploded from the toppled 'Jack as its heartfire submerged and the river invaded in through the openings in its hull.
Peering through the mist and haze Allison kept her pistols pointed in the direction of the river bank, wary in case Karchev himself came barreling down upon her. As seconds turned into moments and the air cleared, she listened to the pings and creaks as the Kodiacs chassis cooled. She heard a commotion from behind her and turned one of her mariners to survey what was happening. 'Looking' towards the river she could see Sergeant Gunter rowing back.
"Woo-hoo! Way to go lass!" Gunter hollered, "Th' big red lug has packed it in!" Though he didn't stop pushing his oar through the water. His spirits rose immensely as he took in the be-draggled form of Lieutenant McCain standing there peering at him from between the two Mariners from under the black mop of hair plastered over her face.
"Sergeant, you're back early?" Allison’s voice and the smile on her lips showed the joy and relief she felt at the sight of the bobbing inflatable craft.
"Aye Ma'am. Young 'Kat' came up with th' idea. She got Gowan t' throw us their oar about two-thirds the way across. Then she got out and swum th' rest o' th' way." There was pride in Gunter's voice as he told the tale of the scout’s gumption. Allison nodded and accepted the Sergeants handshake in celebration of having survived the encounter.
"I'll make sure to put in for a commendation for her." She said as they pulled the boat into the shallows near the fallen Khardoran machine. Gunter noted she sent one of the Mariners back into the river.
"Right, we've about an hours labor time in the 'Jacks. Enough time to salvage a few things from the barge and get this rigged up and dragged across the river. We can find some where to stash the three for when we come back for the salvage." She grinned happily at Gunter and Langworth, who nodded and smiled back.
"Aye, it were a good plan o' yours, t' use the Mariners as a sort o' 'engine' t' be drawin' us up stream like that, Lieutenant. T'is a pity th' buggers had t' go an' sink th' barge, it would a' been a right pleasant trip back down agin." Gunter complemented Allison on her tactics.
"Oh well. You know what they say about the best laid plans.." Her voice trailed off as she concentrated on giving orders to the submerged mariner as it went about its salvage tasks.
"Um, no Ma'am, I don't rightly do?" Gunter replied puzzled, though the explanation was forced to wait as they went about the tasks at hand so that they could safely 'tactically withdraw'.