Writing Practice

writing practice 1: Elves are really cool

Day one

Green. For as far around as the eye could see there was only green. Leafy branches, extending out into a massive canopy. Gleaming grass and thick bushes, fed by seemingly impossible dapples of sunlight filtering down from above. The plants shifted slightly in the wind, rustling. The colour of leaves changed as drops of water trailed down them from the recent rain rolled down them. The shapes and texture of different plants and the interplay of light and shadow as the sun, the wind and the tiny movements of forest creatures shifted the woods minutely. There were many shades and flavours in the forest, a palette which the crude tongue of humans could not well describe.

Minori did not blame the humans for their lack of words however. They after all did not know the forest as its inhabitants did, and so would never have had time to fully describe it. They would never have time in their mayfly lives to sit as she did, watching the forest through senses which were far sharper than theirs even without the enchanted blindfold that covered her eyes.

Besides, there were plenty of other things that you could blame them for.

The forest echoed to the tramp of feet and Minori looked down from her high perch, her shifting cloak fitting her seamlessly into the canopy's background. Feet clad only in a thin layer of enchanted silk shifted slightly on the rough wood of the branch as she gazed down at the column passing beneath her.

There were several score humans, each dressed in a faded red surcoat over rusty and ill repaired chainmail armour. Most were on foot, a few on horseback. It was not the humans that held her attention though, but rather the vastly taller figure stomping along in the centre of the formation. The golem looked to have been built from a cage of wood around a giant's skeleton. Some effort had gone into fitting large iron plates to the frame. A massive and rather ungainly looking helmet, far too big to be properly sculpted sat atop its head.

The golem looked back and forth, eyes glowing with the flame of the lanterns behind them. Minori frowned. That was certainly new. These were fighters of a local bandit lord by the looks of it, but the golem was a new edition. Shifting slowly, the young elf let out a cry, too high for human ears, her magic carrying it through the forest in every direction. A sound of warning.

The last human passed out of view and Minori rose, ran and jumped, the enchantments on her stockings lifting her in a superhuman bound. She dropped, falling below her last position, and flung out an arm, enchanted rope coiling from her hand. The rope snaked around a tree, changing Minori's course and letting her land easily then spring off again as the hook untangled. Her pattern zigzagged, keeping always behind the column of humans.

A few minutes later she caught sight of another cloaked form moving through the trees, again all but invisible, but highlighted by the enchanted blindfold she wore. The other stopped about a hundred meters away, easy range for Minori's eyes - especially with the blindfold, and raised both hands to talk.

<<Minori>> The other elf's hand moved in a complicated pattern. <<Should we attack yet?>>

<<Lirna.>> Minori's hands rose in reply. The first sign was greeting, the rest instruction <<When they reach the Blue Tor, then we'll take them>> she looked down at the humans below <<We'll attack the golem. Hopefully when it falls the rest will flee.>> She grinned under her hood. <<Let's give them a scare they won't forget!>>

Day Two

<<You're so merciful Minori.>> Lirna signed <<Hey wait!>> Minori was already well ahead of her, jumping from tree to tree, her bow pulled from its leg holster and in her hands. The elf warrior shook the weapon once, snapping it out to full length, the string coiling around the end, ready for use.

Minori didn't need to look back to know her partner was following. She could hear the slight noises the other elf was making as she bounded after her. Drawing an arrow from the holster by her bow she quickly notched it, leaving the bow's silken string slack. The human column was slovenly as it moved, without even any observers looking backwards, not even an lookout platform on the back of the golem. That was good though, because any observer would be killed by the effect of the arrow.

Ahead a tall slab of unusual volcanic rock reared from the ground: the Blue Tor. It marked the boarder of the area where humans were permitted and as Minori approached, the back of the column just passing it. Beyond the tor there was a large area in which the lower canopy was absent. Most humans would not notice the difference, but to an elf it was obvious. Then again, the trees were crafted that way for a reason: to give people like Minori a clean shot. She leapt, cloak billowing around her and hanging for a perfect moment then drew and fired twice. Without even waiting to see if her arrows struck, the young elf spun in the air, a line snaking around the upper branch of a distant oak, yanking her into a new flight path to avoid any retribution the humans might launch. She heard the arrows though, two satisfying thunks as they struck the golem's wooden frame. The humans didn't know it yet but the battle was already over.

On the ground below, Gemmes the Baker Son, sworn man of the Duke of Foltenmer and just over eighteen summers old, scratched at his beard. He had heard rumours about the forest, they all had. Some told of the place as cursed. Others that there were great riches inside. Gemmes knew which ones the Duke believed, that after all was why he'd sent them. There was something about the woods he found off-putting though, a feeling that he was being watched.

He looked up and for a brief moment saw something flash by overhead, so fast he thought he'd imagined it. Then the golem began to howl, putting it's great hands to it's head. Its wooden frame distorting, as metal nails exploded free, iron plates hurtling off into the trees. The wood rippled, then green shoots exploded out and rammed into the ground. Men were running as the golem flailed, giant's bones crushed to powder as its limbs reached out, more green bursting forth from them.

Day Three

Gemmes ran too, not knowing which way he was going and not caring, so long as it was away from there. A nail flashed past him, imbedding into a tree with a thump. Gemmes didn't dare look back but he didn't need too. Around him the shadows changed, the tall silhouette of the golem growing larger, branching out into the form of a vast tree. The young soldier couldn't even conceive of the power needed to do something like that, he could only run.

Bushes tore at him as he crashed through them. The shouts and crashes from behind fading into the distance. He kept going, then stumbled and tripped over a log, slamming into the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Even this didn't bring him to a halt: the soft earth beneath him gave way, and gravity gave his armoured body a rough yank. Gemmes rolled and slid forward, wheezing, finally coming to rest with a painful bump at the bottom of the slope. Whimpering he rolled to his knees and tried to push himself up on a fallen log. Slowly, pushing up on his arms as much as shaking legs, he managed to rise enough to perch on the tree. Wincing slightly and taking deep breaths, he looked around then slowly got to his feet.

The forest around him seemed uninhabited. He could hear birds, the rustling of leaves, his own breathing. Nothing from others who might have escaped the ambush... had it even been an ambush? Maybe it was just some enchantment of this place? He looked back up at the sheer bank. Foolishly he hadn't checked way he'd was running. He hadn't seen the bank when he'd entered the woods so he must have run deeper inside.

Pulling the water skin from off the side of his knapsack, Gemmes took a long drink. Running at such a frantic pace in full armour and heavily loaded had been foolish, and now his body ached all over. He looked back up at the slope but didn't fancy the climb. Instead he began to work his way along it, looking in both directions. To one side there was a clearing, and Gemmes saw something shining inside it. Carefully of his footing, his ankle aching, he walked that way. Perhaps it was a pool where he could refill his skin.

When he saw what actually lay in the clearing though, Gemmes stopped, goggling.

Silver towers rose out of the woods, connected by gleaming paths of white marble. Trees and flowering plants grew in profuse gardens around the great buildings, stretching far overhead. Between the towers graceful figures clad in fine silks went about their business, chatting to one another in lyrical cadence.

Gemmes opened his mouth, then heard a slight sound behind him. He was still turning when blackness took him.

Day Four: Second Practice

Midori hadn't ever seen a Terran before. The woman was tall and dark skinned, long legs reaching almost the midpoint of the smallish waiting room from where she was sprawled in one of the chairs. She wore the long dark blue coat of a Terran Hegemony Officer, with a major's bars she looked too young for on the shoulder. The front of the coat was unsealed so it flowed around her on the chair. In one hand she held a palm top, a bulky looking military model. Her other hand moved across the touch screen with lazy precision, the chirping sound of a game just audible.

Midori cleared her throat "Major Miziku. The Minister will see you now."

"Thank you." The officer quieted the machine, dropping it into a coat pocket as she slid to her feet. Midori saw something through the room's window. Intolerable brightness.

And then something hit her, every sense at once.

"W-what?" The secretary babbled, realizing the Terran was on top of her. She squirmed and the weight lifted off her. The Hegemony Officer looked down, sheepish, then shook her head. In the distance there was another explosion. Air raid sirens sounded.

"Looks like the Arcturans have decided to invade" her voice was rye for a moment, then the humour vanished abruptly: "go find your boss and get to the a shelter. I've got to go."

"But... but...!"

"Go." the instruction was firm, and aided by a push back the way she'd come. Looking stricken, Midori obeyed quickly, taking one look back at the Terran and wondering where she was going.

Nadia brushed herself off, bits of synthetic clanking slightly against the wood panelled floor as it fell. Her coat had absorbed most of the splinters but she could feel blood running down the spikes of her hair. "Ouch." she murmured, reaching up gingerly pull out a shard, the flesh beneath healing over almost instantly. No time to dawdle. Nadia began to make her way down towards the room's entrance, crawling under the cracked windows to avoid exposing herself she moved up to the door and peered outside into the street.

For an instant, Nadia saw only panicked people. Civilians cringing against the ground, frantically aiding or just yelling at people injured by shrapnel or runaway vehicles. For a second it was almost possible to imagine this as merely some terrible accident, some awful computer error. A horrid, but momentary problem.

And then the God Machine thundered overhead, turning to touch down, arms crossed, in the large park at the end of the road. Nadia ducked back inside and scrambled over to one of the broken windows, kicked away the synthetic and going out after it. A missile blasted down the street from a distant tower block, streaking past out of Nadia's sight towards the golden machine. There was a loud explosion then a moment's pause before the top of the skyscraper pinched inward, as if some giant hand had grabbed both sides and squeezed. Debris fountained from the ruin then the whole building began to fall.

Nadia risked peering around the corner of the building. The god machine stood untouched, no evidence that the missiles had even struck it. There was another thunderclap and a swarm of artillery submunitions rained down on the golden figure, wreathing it in explosions but achieving nothing else.

This mission had gone to shit.

Day Five: First day back after holidays!

It was the stench that hit Rin first: a mix of salt, ammonia and rot, stronger than anything she'd ever smelled . She coughed, then sat up, almost banging her head on the low ceiling, and realized the strangeness of her situation. She'd been unconscious. The thought was slightly terrifying: she'd never been unconscious before. It was dark in what had once been referred to as he visible spectrum, but Rin could see the heat radiating scores of other people, laying around her in the cramped space. Some of them looked quite alien. The walls looked like wood around her, and the floor swayed up and down, and the walls were made of wood. Rin also noticed they were chained together. Large collars of black metal connected to the next person along by a thick chain.

Next to Rin, huddled up against her was Akira, an off again on again friend of hers. The pair had been walking back from town together when... Rin didn't remember what had happened then. This place was like nowhere she'd ever been. They were on liquid, and travelling in a wooden boat. Rin checked her internal clock and found only a two hours had passed since she remembered. That seemed too short a time to get her off world, and she was sure there was nowhere on Sakura that smelled this foul. That probably meant that this wasn't real.

Rin was trying to remember some things she'd read about telling simulations from reality when Akira began to stir next to her, her long ears pricking up at the strange sounds around her as. "What happened?" She looked frightened "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Rin did her best to project an aura of collected coolness "this has to be some kind of simulation I think. It doesn't seem like anything on..." Then the hatch opened and a fat, misshapen creature with long dirty claws hauled her out into blazing light.

Reiko looked around as they were dragged into the light and her mouth dropped open. In front of her the two young women in what looked like some kind of school uniform were talking urgently to one another in something that sounded almost but not quite like Japanese. The stench was worse up here and she almost started to cough. They were on a wooden ship, all manner of strange, monstrous crew members tending to tall sails and ropes, rigged in a way not even the most backwoods violet would use. Above the sky was angry red, roiling like a gas giant, the sun must be hidden behind them. She couldn't see any of the rest of her squad yet, or any of her equipment. The people around her were men, women and stranger creatures. Reiko saw women in silk robes that looked straight out of a fantasy movie, a man with strange jet black skin, another with small horns. A gleaming humanoid machine tramped near the back of one line. The school girl in front of her had long pointed elf ears and deep orchid purple hair. In another line she'd seen two different women with angel wings.

Not for the first time since something had crashed through the wall of her bivouac Reiko thought she must have lost it. It had to be a dream or something, no matter how real it felt. The monster holding her chain yanked and Reiko was pulled forward, redirecting her vision towards the ramshackle town ashore. Buildings of bone, rotten wood, stone and iron grew like fungi out of the shore line, connected by narrow, winding streets laid out in an utterly disorderly fashion. Massive crenulated battlements of a metallic fortress overlooked the town, and Reiko could see huge brass cannons overlooking it. A massive fleet of ships and barges stood on the docks, unloading various cargos: animals, machinery, gold and gems. Things she couldn't recognize. . . and slaves. Like her. Reiko put her head down as she was dragged onto the dock, telling herself the watering of her eyes was just an effect of the river's fumes.

The balor looked Law over, his eyes moving to the other captives important enough to be chained on deck rather than down in the slave holds. The group were chained together, iron collars marked with runes that restricted their magic gleaming on their neck. "I fear you are mistaken oh princess." He grinned. At one end of the deck a hatch was opened and several dretches began to pull lesser prisoners out of the hole. The balor captain stood back as several other of the least demons grabbed the chain connected to Law's collar and began to yank her group towards the gang plank.

Everpresent Diamond Law felt slightly sick as she looked at the settlement. Her eyes kept trying to find patterns but there were none. She was looking away, feeling slightly ill when a large shadow fell across her. A massive tower of fat, brown flesh, covered in bristling untidy hair learned down on her. One of its clawed hands grabbed her hair and yanked her head back and attempted to stick its massive tongue down her throat. Law gagged, eyes blazing and found enough play in her chains to drive a fist into the bloated demon's grotesquely fat stomach. The tanar'ri coughed, withdrawing its head and letting Law breath for a second before it backhanded Law, knocking her down onto the deck, in a clatter of chains. The huge demon raising a foot to stomp on Law as she struggled to rise when a hand settled on its arm, flames licking around it. The big demon stiffened as the shorter form of the ship's captain stepped into view behind it. The fiend was shorter than it's subordinate, its proportions more humanoid. Its body was baleful orange fire around a horrific spiked skeleton

"My apologizes Princess." The balor's voice was the screams of the murdered. It's flames rippled to smoke as it reached down offered her a courteous hand up. Law ignored it, rising on her own and looking up at the archfiend angrily "My first mate could not resist your beauty." Law maintained her silence and the balor chuckled. "Alas you are our lords property."

"I am no one's property." Law said, voice quiet so to conceal her anger and fear.

The Balor grinned, running one finger across the dark abyssal iron of her collar, then his eyes moving to the other captives important enough to be chained on deck rather than down in the slave holds. The group were chained together, iron collars marked with runes that restricted their magic gleaming on their neck. "I fear you are mistaken oh princess." The balor captain stood back as several other of the least demons grabbed the chain connected to Law's collar and began to yank her group towards the gang plank, following the lesser slaves who had been below off the ship.

Day Six

Eirin tried to stay close to Yasmin as their slave line was yanked down onto the dock, wincing slightly every time her sword, chained to her collar by a short length of chain to make it impossible to wield banged against her back.

Useless girl. Quorin hissed in her mental ear. See now what your wilfulness has bought us too!

Shut up Quorin. Command growled. You berating her is not helping.

If she'd listened to me in the first place and not associated with that woman we wouldn't be here!" Quorin retorted, but quieted a bit after that.

The line stopped on the dock, the short, fat demon holding their chains looking back at Eirin and talking to another. The dock demon seemed to be of the same general type, but was never the less thoroughly different in features, with green fur and a face who's ugliness was far different from thinner and more mean than the first. Eirin shrunk behind Yasmin. "What are they saying?" She whispered.

The dark skinned mage looked back, adjusting her robes so that the hem didn't catch in the mud. "The crew demon is informing its dock side counterpart about why how removing your artefacts would kill you" She replied after a moment, then gave Eirin's hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, we'll get out of this somehow."

The dock demon grabbed the chain and began to drag them off through the streets again. Eirin looked around curiously, unable to escape a fascinated curiosity with this place. The street narrowed and widened without seeming reason. Some areas where bare earth, others paved with rock or iron. On either sides buildings rose, ramshackle hovels made from drift wood nestled against impossible seeming palaces of gleaming metal, glass and quartz. Random assortments of stone and brick rose high into the sky, next low lying bunkers half submerged in the rock. In some areas stinking alkaline slime flowed across the street, bypassed by one or another bridge, always a different design.

The procession finally came out into a large square, in the middle of which a large rough hole had been dug. A massive iron tree jutted out of the hole, on each branch and twig hung a large cage, each filled with frantic looking captives of all sexes and species. More cages waited below. The demon turned and spoke. Yasmin translated "It says this will be our new home."

Day Six

Eirin tried to stay close to Yasmin as their slave line was yanked down onto the dock, wincing slightly every time her sword, chained to her collar by a short length of chain to make it impossible to wield banged against her back.

Useless girl. Quorin hissed in her mental ear. See now what your wilfulness has bought us too!

Shut up Quorin. Command growled. You berating her is not helping.

If she'd listened to me in the first place and not associated with that woman we wouldn't be here!" Quorin retorted, but quieted a bit after that.

The line stopped on the dock, the short, fat demon holding their chains looking back at Eirin and talking to another. The dock demon seemed to be of the same general type, but was never the less thoroughly different in features, with green fur and a face who's ugliness was far different from thinner and more mean than the first. Eirin shrunk behind Yasmin. "What are they saying?" She whispered.

The dark skinned mage looked back, adjusting her slightly torn silk robes to better cover herself. "The crew demon is informing its dock side counterpart about why how removing your artefacts would kill you" She replied after a moment, then gave Eirin's hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, we'll get out of this somehow."

The dock demon grabbed the chain and began to drag them off through the streets again. Eirin looked around curiously, unable to escape a fascinated curiosity with this place. The street narrowed and widened without seeming reason. Some areas where bare earth, others paved with rock or iron. On either sides buildings rose, ramshackle hovels made from drift wood nestled against impossible seeming palaces of gleaming metal, glass and quartz. Random assortments of stone and brick rose high into the sky, next low lying bunkers half submerged in the rock. In some areas stinking alkaline slime flowed across the street, bypassed by one or another bridge, always a different design.

The procession finally came out into a large square, in the middle of which a large rough hole had been dug. A massive iron tree jutted out of the hole, on each branch and twig hung a large cage, each filled with frantic looking captives of all sexes and species. More cages waited below. The demon turned and spoke. Yasmin translated "It says this will be our new home."

Day Seven

Zanitersa'zig'thelmaediam watched the new slaves arrive with idle distain, annoyed at how cramped her cell was about to become. The demon sighed to herself and ran a finger across the collar that constrained her. Only just freed and now bound again. The cosmos had a cruel sense of irony... a fact only confirmed when her old master, Yasmin of the Nine Circles was shoved into the cage by a grinning Dretch.

"Yasmin." Zani sighed "How interesting to meet you here."

Yasmin frowned a bit "Zani... why are you... well why are you in a cage?"

"Alas in my absence it seems some forces in hell have got rather used to being without me." Zani's small wigs beat in irritation "and thus I was sold out to the Abyssal lord here." She sighed, then brightened at the sight of Eirin. The younger necromancer instantly shrank back. "Still my dear Yasmin, I'm sure I can help you get out of here... for a price of course."

"What kind of a price?" Yasmin asked watchfully, moving to sit down beside Zani.

"Why, you have to get me out too of course!" Zani frowned "That should be o..." Zani was interupted as a man fell against her. His flesh was saturated with holy power. "Watch what you're doing churl!" The demon hissed, kicking him back then wincing as her flesh turned a nasty burned shade of pink. Captivity had just got a lot more uncomfortable.

Cibo winced and recoiled from the demoness who was yelling at him. "Hey, sorry. I didn't try to fall against you you know!" He snapped back.

The demoness fumed for a moment then smiled more politely "I apologize. My captivity has not left me in the best of moods." She looked around at the crowd of people now shoved into the cage. "My my. There are a lot of you now. Please, allow me to introduce myself, I am Zanitersa'zig'thelmaediam. I'm afraid I've been a prisoner here rather longer than the rest of you, so if you want to get out, you'd better listen to me."

"You must think we're pretty stupid if we'd listen to a demon." The speaker was a blond woman in medieval looking clothing, a nasty bruise marking the side of her head at the other side of the cage from them. Cibo could feel holy power, somewhat different from his own flowing off her. "For all we know, you're an informant planted in here to spy on us."

"I guarantee you." Said the arabic looking woman in silk robes who'd been speaking to a demoness "Zani would never put up with such an arrangement."

"Oh and you consort with her kind? That makes you extremely trustworthy too."

"Hey. Can everyone focus a little?" Cibo frowned wishing for his cigarettes, if only to cover the stench of the river. "We can fight one another after we get out and get free... if we ever do." He looked down at the demons below but they seemed to have gone, leaving the cage hanging high in the tree.

"Oh, I didn't expect one so full of the stench of holy power to be so sensible." The demoness laughed. "If only all with such power were so sensible..." She smiled at Cibo "but then I sense that you are also a scholar and man of learning."

"Don't start." Cibo gritted.

There was a cough from down the end, where a slim, aristocratic looking woman with a some kind of symbol that cibo didn't recognize visible around her neck was sitting. Somehow cutting through the confusion. "Perhaps we should all introduce ourselves?" The speaker suggested. "I am Alene the Augur. Who are the rest of you?"

A voice piped up nearby in halting English "Hey I know this is a simulation but why does it have to be in a dead language? Could you all speak more slowly, my English is only so good and I have to translate for my friend."

Day Eight: something different I'll actually edit

Tressa leaned on the rail, feeling the gentle motion of the ship, and watching the world pass in front of her. The ropes and sails creaked in a gentle breeze. Crew calling to one another as they toyed with the rigging. Tressa was no sailor, certainly not on a ship as complex as this one, so she could only watch the scenery go by.

The Paladin kept getting distracted anyway. Her eyes roamed across the vista of the shore. The countryside of the second layer of Elysium was gorgeous, Tressa had seen royal gardens that lacked its beauty. Everywhere she looked was some new wonder: Vast soaring mountains, their tops pristine white, clouds pooling around their tops like wood smoke. Beautiful green hills, blue and red flowers just visible in the distance. Thick vibrant woodlands that looked like they could be the site of a hundred childhood adventures. It was picturesque, awe inspiring and unrelenting in a way that Tressa found slightly off. Never was there a feature that was ugly, but as she looked she would constantly notice how the terrain seemed only to follow the normal rules for as long as it suited them. The moment a formation could be considered other than wondrous it was broken by another with distressing swiftness.

The boat tipped slightly and there was a yelp followed by a splash. Tressa looked and saw a splash of colour amid the cool blue perfection of the water. One of the passengers, a young black haired boy in a brightly patterned coat bobbed in the swell.

Tressa didn't have to think about what she did next. The moment she realized what had happened she was off the rail and into the water, wincing slightly at the cold shock of it and then opened her eyes and began to swim strongly towards the child. Her boots made swimming difficult, but suddenly an eddy of the current pushed the boy towards her and Tressa grabbed him. "Don't let go!" she turned, swimming back towards the boat, which was coming about, crew lining the rail. Tressa was a little way off, thinking how she could grab a line and pull herself up with the child in one arm, when strong arms closed around her and she was lifted into the air.

Looking back Tressa's breath caught. She was caught round the waist by a jet black deva. Tressa found her gaze returned by nonchalant eyes of emerald green. The embrace was soft but firm, lifting Tressa and the boy and deposited them gently onto the deck.

Tressa stood for a moment amazed, even the crying child standing for a moment in awe of the creature standing before her. The Deva was tall, taller than Tressa, her build powerful, limbs thick with muscles. Her hair was long and even blacker than her skin, specked with silver like a sky at night. Behind her large wings preened and adjusted, sending droplets of water arcing back towards the river. Her face... was perhaps the loveliest Tress had ever seen, and set in a cheerful smile.

"I'm honoured by your assistance Milady." Tressa managed to find her voice and dropped a curtsey. The boy, his tears drying moved over to his parents.

"I don't think you needed it, but I do not like to see those who perform good deeds made less comfortable than necessary." The Deva extended a hand "I greet you. I am Lilaranna."

"Tressa. Paladin of the Holy Church " a small smile. "Lost and far from home." The moment passed quickly as Tressa shivered.

"Then I shall not ask you from which holy church you hale." The Devas smiled as one of the crew men handed Tressa a towel. "Let us talk a little... after you've changed clothes perhaps?"

"I'd be delighted." Tressa nodded.

Day Nine: Practicing descriptive writing

From the note book of Tressa the Lost, Paladin of the Holy Church:

The Upper Planes
The Upper, or good aligned planes stretch across the notional top of the great wheel. Given the vast distances involved it is difficult to ascertain whether the ring shape is real in any physical sense, or a construction of philosophers. Certainly the finite boundary that directionality imply would seem to go against the notion of infinite planes, yet it is hard to deny the evidence of your own eyes.

As not all areas of the lower planes are instantly deadly or torturous not all of the upper planes are peaceful, safe or beautiful. Similarly, as the Blood War rages across the Lower Planes, there are many disagreements, feuds and politics across the upper. For these reasons I often found my travel among the upper planes rather disheartening. It seems that perhaps perfection is not yet possible even here. I console myself with the notion that the all the planes seem product of the human heart and human condition, and perhaps as we can improve upon it then the planes too will be improved.

The River Oceanus
Whether the wheel is actual or notional, direction through the upper planes is not hard to find. From its headwaters in the forth layer of Elysium, it flows in both directions around the ring. I have heard the tributaries called many things. Sages I spoke with in Mount Celestia described the tributary flowing in their direction as Superior and the one that flows in the other direction as Inferior while those in Arborea spoke of the one flowing towards Law as Sinister and those flowing towards chaos as Dexter.

I find these explanations needlessly confusing and frankly pejorative. Instead It is simpler to describe the flow towards the docks and aquifers of Arcadia as the Lawful direction and the flow that finds its end point in the shining seas of Ysgard as the Chaotic. In the text from now on I will use these distinctions.

The River Oceanus is the highway of the upper planes as the Styx is for the Lower. In many ways however, despite the potentially lethal nature of the Styx and it is inhabitants it is less navigable, with large stretches rendered impassable by geography including sharp drops and vast canyons which can shatter any ship.

The Oceanus is also not without many large unintelligent and hungry predators who will prey upon travellers, and local authorities across the upper planes are kept busy dealing with the more dangerous of these creatures. The water is also often rather cold, and extremely deep, however the currents seem beneficent, helping a swimmer rather than hindering in most cases.

Arcadia
If Mechanus is a great clock, its inhabitants cogs devoted to tending the machine, then Arcadia is a machine who's output is the benefit of its inhabitants. The entire plane is a vast city, with buildings which seem to go on forever, many of them as large, or larger than prime material worlds.

This is not to say that Arcadia is a wholly artificial plane though. There are massive parks and outdoor and indoor gardens, carefully landscaped farm lands calculated for maximum yields of food and overseen strictly by the Plane's various rulers, be they Powers, mortals or the plane's native formians.

Unlike Mechanus, the structure of Arcadia does not seem to be free standing. There is a ground, which projects upwards at some points, forming mountains which may project up through one or more layers. Most of these mountains have been almost mined out by now, and some have been turned into vast buildings in their own right.

Arcadia has three layers, Abellio, Buxenus and Nemausus, each is a different layer of the city. All entrance portals enter Abellio, the city's top layer, and from there a traveller must make her way down through each of the others. It is a bright, sunlit place which holds many of the city's parks and farms as well as the docks but heavily fortified and well garrisoned by the various forces that make Arcadia their home. I would have thought more inhabitants would wish to live out in the bright sunlight, but in fact Abellio is relatively sparsely populated by Arcadian standards, with most inhabitants worried about it's insecurity, and preferring to work their shifts on the collective farms then return below to live.

The second layer, Buxenus is where most of the plane's business takes place and where most of the inhabitants live. Buildings here are constantly being redesigned, improved and reconstructed, old materials salvaged and new ones mined out and grown. It is vibrant but extremely crowded, despite the amount of space. It is also heavily patrolled. Most inhabitants seem unwilling to leave and strangers are treated with some suspicion. Identity papers are a common requirement for citizens and visitors on Buxenus, and those without them face fines or imprisonment, depending on the district.

Finally, the third layer, Nemausus, is the deepest, a place of almost eternal night and artificial lights, where vast industries are constantly in use. Nemausus is also the area where the River Oceanus finally comes to rest, forming the cities vast aquifer. From here water is pumped to every other part of the plane through vast canal pipe lines which also serve as transportation. Much of the plane city's government and amenities also lie down in the depths, such as the great library and various central ministries (though these seem to have little real power, at least for the moment.) Getting down to Nemausus is difficult for outsiders, and will require a large amount of paper work and assessment. Be prepared for a long wait.

Arcadia is a host to some rather troubling politics. As it stands the plane is divided into numerous districts, each of which has its own slightly different body of laws and regulations. Various different districts are constantly debating and squabbling over the best shape for a general set of laws that would rule the entire plane. This situation is aggravated by the The Modrons and the Harmonium, a faction of mortals from across the plane and the Order of the Planes-Militant and Achrons of mount Celestia, who are constantly intriguing against one another and with and against the locals to bring Arcadia more towards their own planes, usually by influencing

While most of these conflicts are heated words only, it seems to me only a matter of time before they become all the more serious and potentially bloody.

Day Ten/Eleven: More Upper Planes

Mount Celestia
Of all the planes and places I visited, none was more pleasing to me than my time on Mount Celestia. While it was impossible to visit the Twin Goddess's blessed sanctum on the Seventh layer, I never the less found it a plane in which I fit in easily, and the terrain did not seem (as in all the other planes I visited) subtly off.

This is not to say that I found my journey across the hallowed mountain an easy one and I suspect a traveller of a different personality to my own might find it a more daunting place.

Mount Celestia is as the name suggests a single vast mountain. Each layer slopes gradually upwards into the next, large plateau of relatively flat ground are common however. It is on these plateaus where most of the civilization on the plane exists.

As with Arcadia, all traffic enters at the bottom of the Mountain, generally through the sea in Lunia, the Silver Heaven, a moonlit place full of great ships. The Oceanus and the outland portal, also at sea, both exit here, as do many portals from Sigil and other places. The shore of the Lunia are the hub of much trade, but also the Mountain's primary layer of defence. Fortresses and shore batteries dot the shore, and warships are on frequent patrol.

Such defences are needed as it seems many have a grudge against the Seven Heavens. Fiends, Modrons, even the inhabitants of the Outlands all frequently raid the place looking for plunder, slaves, or simply to disrupt the plans of its inhabitants. While nowhere near as paranoid as Arcadia, it is suggested that a visitor stay good humoured about being questioned by local authorities, who after all are only trying to do their jobs and will follow local laws strictly. I did find it useful however to find a copy of the most prominent local laws before visiting a new local however, as there is some variation in what is and isn't allowed across the layer and plane.

Above Lunia is five other layers which a mortal may access: Mercuria, the Golden Heaven, Venya, the Pearly Heaven, Solania, the Electrum Heaven, Mertion the Platinum Heaven and Jovar the Glittering Heaven. Above those lies Chronias, the Illuminated Heaven, but no mortal but a saint may enter there.

Each of the six layers holds numerous kingdoms, states, churches, shrines and monasteries, far too numerous and diverse for me to describe in detail here. However as befitting a plane that holds to law as well as good Mount Celestia obeys the laws of nature as they apply to mountains: as you go further up, it becomes colder and the air becomes thinner. Further, the Mountain has only one day and one night, which are the same on each layer except Lunia, where the mountain seems to block the sun, meaning that there are only brighter and darker patches of twilight.

Mount Celestia most numerous inhabited are the archons. These apparently represent the faithful dead of most of the powers that live there. Where as follows of the Twin Mother perfect themselves in the mortal realm it appears other powers have chosen to have their followers perfect themselves on Mount Celestia itself. The souls promised to these powers become archons, goodly beings of great power who over their lifetimes metamorphose into more and more powerful and sinless forms as they climb higher on the mountain.

Mount Celestia is not an entirely peaceful place. There are fierce debates, tourneys and even sometimes wars between various kingdoms over points of doctrine and of law. Usually the archons or other celestial beings step in to prevent hostilities turning bloody, but conflict is by no means impossible. Still, compared to many other places on the planes, Mount Celestia is blessedly and wonderfully peaceful and well regulated.

Day 12: My Armour

My Armour

When I was seven, on the third day of training, the arms master told me: "Love your armour." She stood before us, looking so tall and fierce, clad in blue washed plate. "The book of night and says: "Let all those who care for their craft first care for their tools." Her look was stern "Your armour, your weapons, your steed. These are your tools. Your craft is the war for salvation." Another look, her hair a lion's mane around her face "The book of night and day says: You who swear yourselves to the goddesses, you are theirs and do their work." We try to look serious, too young to really understand what's being said. "You are promised to the goddesses, you owe it to them to protect yourselves."

I love my armour. I care for it. Oil it, clean it, and polish it. When it becomes more than my skills can fix I take it to a blacksmith. It has saved me many times. It was built for me, custom forged to fit my frame. It is light, built of true silver, admantium and high grade steel. Arrows and swords and gunfire have not pierced it.

I hate my armour. I hate what it is and what it shows about the lands I am from and I hate what it says about me. A land who has made such strides in the arts of war. A land that cannot feed its people. A knight who knows a hundred laws and holy books. A knight who cannot do good without doing harm.

This is my armour and this is me.

Day 13: Non-Speculative Fiction

Anti-climax

You say some combination of "Thank you" and "good bye" to the typing assistant and walk out of the exam room. You've waited for five minutes and probably followed him or her around as they screw around with tying your exam paper in whatever red tape has been ordered for today. Because this is an enterprise university (unless that guy can sue successfully).

You finished early. Because you always finish early. Because despite the fact that you're dyslexic and you dictate too fast at times, the thought of trying to redo your answers is worse. You've taught yourself to look it over a bit and make sure that there's not too many obvious errors, that took years. After you've finished both your questions the amount of reward in a somewhat better grade a few months down the line is simply nowhere near worth the amount of pain it would cost to sit in that room a moment longer.

So you don't use your extra time. You don't use all of your normal time either. You watch the printer spool out your exam paper (possibly after some of the usual comedy of errors of university printing) and then once the paper is enveloped and taken. You leave.

What are you feeling what precisely? Drained perhaps. From days or weeks of irregular sleep. From several hours of awful intellectual rigour. More than that.

You are alone.

On those crowded steps, outside the cheap automatic doors. Above the inevitable smokers. You are more alone than at any other time.

Or maybe you just care more.

Your course friends who are also doing the exam are either somewhere else at the main exam or they haven't finished yet. Or both. Nobody knows what you just went through. There is no catharsis on those steps. Nobody to talk through the bad questions and the good, too laugh with about this or that lecturers influence on the paper, too be hopeful or disappointed with. After they're done they'll go somewhere together. Because they all finish at the same time.

So you leave, and if you're lucky, you go to the pub to wait for the rest to finish so you can finally obtain closure on this. If you're not you walk home. You call your parents maybe so at least you've got someone to talk to about it.

What must it have been like before mobile phones?

Day 14: Mecha

Kiwako stepped out of the van, picking her helmet up and putting it under her arm as she stepped free. The air was night cool on her face, the sun starting to brighten the eastern sky. Beside her, she felt Katsuko approach, the gynoids electronics meshing with hers like a hand clasp. Kiwako smiled slightly. The gynoid returning the look shyly.

Amid the spotlights at the end of the field two machines squatted. Kiwako felt the network buzzing around them, still encrypted and unreadable. The machines were giant human shapes cut from something almost but not quite silver. Even kneeling, Kiwako could judge it taller than the halberd class she'd trained on, their forms slightly thinner. The Kirin looked slightly unreal, like something pulled directly from the imagination, not made by human hands.

Major Smith was there, her long coat billowing around her, watching launch preparations, her uniform's cap settled firmly against the spring chill as she stepped over. "Morning" she nodded briskly, inspecting their gear, "all geared up and your equipment checked?" There was no saluting with the base on alert.

Both pilots nodded. "Yes. Ready to fly." Katsuko volunteered.

The older woman looked sheepish for a moment. "This isn't at all how I wanted your first sortie to be, but we don't have a lot of choice. As soon as you're away, we're packing up and getting the hell out of here ourselves." She shook her head "I would have liked to have put you in the cockpit before well... this."

Kiwako realized that the American was scared out of her wits and doing her best to hide it. "Major," She looked seriously at the other woman, "don't worry. We can handle this. We really can."

Smith took a deep breath and then exhaled "I hope to hell you're right kiddo." She muttered. "Both Kirins are fully fuelled and armed. Once you're loaded and up, head directly south. Don't get any ideas about heroically leading them away. Everyone and everything important is already evacuated." She

"Major." Katsuko said, "Please get out of this alive."

Smith opened her mouth, then closed it for a moment before saluting. "I'll do as you suggest flight officer. Carry on."

Both returned the salute and then headed for their machines. There was no words between the them. There didn't need to be. Her crew chief handed Kiwako a small pad. "Here's the unlock codes for the networks Sir. She's armed and fuelled, all components checked and anything that looks dicey replaced from stock."

"Thanks chief." It was easy now. She just looked at the code and the Kirin opened to Kiwako's mind. Quickly she walked around the machine, checking it's outside visually. Despite the chiefs words when she got into the frame, she'd be responsible for it. You made sure.

"Good luck ma'am." He saluted as Kiwako stepped onto the lift into the kneeling machine's cockpit."And good hunting."

Day 15: Arcane Singularity

Dresora took a deep breath and checked her hair in front of the mirror, making sure the long dark braids were just so, then begin to fit each pin into it. Once the last pin was in place she looked at it critically, moving her head back and forth to see if perhaps it would look better tied some other way. After a moment she realized she was simply dragging her feet and lifted the first of her micro-shrines to eye level. The shrine was a representation of its patron deity, Thenopia, ancient goddess of knowledge. She pulled one of the small offerings out of the microshrine's box, and examined it for a moment. The shaped plug of artificial amber glittered slightly, the light catching its engraved supplication. Dresora pushed it into the slot in the shrine's arms. With that done she let go, the small idol drifting backwards to click into place on one of the pins between her braids.

Next came Bargarn, demon lord of the ninety third pit, keeper of secrets. His micro-shrine was his impressively ugly demon form, hands outstretched to grasp the offering, a tiny metal scroll tube in which was contained a coiled paper with a secret printed on it. Dresora took care that the pair were separated by the quartz etched rune of blocking in the middle of the pin so they didn't interfere with one another.

She fitted eight more shrines into her hair, small statues and abstract space, then put on her crystal glasses. The standby glyphs lit and Dresora fired a charge of mana into them, powering the shrines up mostly for the first time. The medical choker on her throat sent a brief chill through her as it connected, potion of intelligence mixing into her bloodstream. Dresora felt the world open up, thinking becoming cleaner and brighter and easier. Information rushed into her brain as the various spirits and knowledge bases she was connected too came online, the world flooding in through her glasses. The crystal lenses were clear of course. Everything happening was simply projected into her mind. Dresora sighed in relief then checked her reflection one last time in the mirror.

Tall and neat, wearing a silk shirt and jacket, and smart cotton trousers. Done in a rebellious black and white rather than the riotous yellows and reds that were currently fashionable. A blue silk cravat for colour and dark boots. "Looking pretty good for a dead girl" The half elf muttered, flicking a speck of imaginary dust from her suit. She couldn't put it off any longer. Turning she stepped to the door, pushing it open and stepped into the corridor outside, pausing to let the two police officers outside get up. "Alright chaps. I'm ready."

"Yes Ma'am." The taller of the two officers, an elf woman said. "This way please. We're using the local portal." Her voice was gentle, soothing. Her partner, a male who looked entirely human looked appropriately sombre but stayed silent.

Dresora felt her mouth set, her pride stung slightly "Don't worry, I'm not going to go crazy about this." She rubbed the back of her head. "I'm fine now, really. It's not like this is the first time I've been to a crime scene."

"Yes Ma'am, but well, this is more than just a crime scene isn't it?" The elf stepped up beside her. "We're pleased you've decided to act so quickly, obviously the longer we wait the more beat up the scene gets, but are you sure you wouldn't like to talk to a counsellor first?"

Dresora let out her breath. They were being nice. She shouldn't snap. "I want to get this over with." The half elf's hand rose to her head again, then fell. "Let's just get moving."

Day 16: trying to fire the engine again

It's pretty complicated being a super heroine. For one thing, the hours are long. Squeezing in university classes, social life and fighting crime is a headache to say the least. It's difficult to date and go out with friends when at any moment you might have to fight an army of Doctor Wako's Ninja Robots at any moment.

Also the pay is lousy. It's not unpaid anymore thank god. There's always someone willing to give you a grant for your activities. You can cash the checks at the Super Bank and they'll get you the money without compromising your identity. Don't expect a huge amount of fortune though. You can get fame, but unless you want to do icky stuff like appear in playboy, you're not going to get rich of it.

Also don't expect too much fame unless you're willing to fight criminals while dressed like you're in playboy. Even with over sixty percent of the world's super beings being women, there's still a way to go in the cause of gender equality.

Finally there's problems like this: take out five heavily armed meth heads who have got trapped in a bank by the cops before they kill the hostages. I could wait for SWAT to breach, let them do some of the work. The problem is that the local SWAT team is frankly incompetent, and even if they do succeed, they'll likely kill the hostage takers.

If I can prevent it, I'd prefer nobody died. Not even criminals.

There's one advantage major advantage I have: the bank robbers don't know I'm coming. I'm hovering above the bank, high enough up to avoid media attention in case the cops have the TV on. I can see their heart beats from up here with my radar sight, the hostages sitting, the criminals pacing, up and down, staying clear of the windows.

Here's another advantage: Super powers.

I rocket down, bursting through the one of the walls of the bank, picking an area with no hostages below so I don't drop any debris on anyone. The robbers are a shabby bunch in cheap clothes and improvised body armour. Crime is not a glamorous business unless you're a super villain. The hostages are normal looking, scared and cringing.

Hostages and criminals both see a warrior angel in a white armoured body suit smash in through the wall. Then they see a series of dazzling flash as I unleash my powers. The one on the hostages looks up, gaping and I sock him in the jaw, then lift him and throw him into the next nearest one, sending them both down in a heap.

The third robber bellows, trying to bring up the oversized pistol he's holding and I close in and crab it, locking one hand around the cylinder so he can't fire and then head butting him hard enough to knock him out. He then becomes a human missile to take the legs out from number four, sending him crashing down into the floor tiles with a yelp. I stomp on his shotgun to break it and give him a gentle kick in the face to knock him out.

The last bank robber back peddles and manages to fire a wild burst from the Uzi he's carrying, mostly into the ceiling rather than into me. My costume acquires several holes as the rounds impact my flesh. More repair work. I end it with a kick to the head.

And then a police sniper shoots me through the window. In the head too. Ouch. Where did the local cops get the money for a .50 cal and why are they shooting it at me? I turn to glare at the source and find the sniper looking sheepish. Obviously a mistaken shot.

Robber number two crawls out from under number one and I turn to hit him but he puts up his hands. "Please lady! I surrender!"

"Great. The cops will be here soon." The door opens and several SWAT officers crash into the room. That's my cue to leave and I do, rocketing out of the same hole I used to enter and leaving the shouts and orders behind.

So now I have a headache, my costume has some holes in it and SWAT is still incompetent. Why do I stay as a super heroine?

Guess I'm just a adrenalin junky trying to do the right thing.

Then again. What else are you going to do with the power to bounce bullets off your skin?