Sun 23 Jun 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under One-shot
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Work had been, if satisfying, also quite wearying; when Matt’s phone rang well into the evening, not a common occurrence but hardly rare enough to signal something amiss, he wasn’t in a great rush to answer it. So long as he did so before it went to voicemail, no harm done, right?
When, just after the third ring, he saw the name on the display, he snatched the handset in such a rush that he almost sent it flying.
“Hello?” he called, still scrambling to bring it to his ear.
Sun 16 Jun 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under MLP:FwB
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Stormchaser glowered at the bulletin board, tail flicking anxiously behind him. Lead pony. It was a vote of confidence, sure, and he wasn’t going to dismiss that out of hand – but when he’d come to grips with the stiff competition he’d face at the Academy, it had actually sounded somehow restful that he might not have more eyes on him than would be on anypony else.
And now, this: lead pony.
It wasn’t too much of a surprise that he’d be working with Comet Trail – he and the Las Pegasus stallion had been neck-and-neck in everything they’d done at the Academy so far, both at the top of the class in everything but raw speed and not far behind on that, both of them agility fliers. But on reflection, it seemed a little bit weird. Why pair him with someone who was already pretty much a match for him? Why not have him mentor a pony who was struggling to keep up, and put Comet Trail in a similar spot with another such pony?
At least if he’d been put in that kind of spot, sure, he’d still have been saddled with the extra responsibility, but he probably wouldn’t have been scrutinized quite so closely as he would be now that his team was the two best candidates here.
Sun 16 Jun 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under Bucket o' Bolts
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The ship’s bridge wasn’t much of a conference room. For that matter, it wasn’t much of a bridge – civilian vessels didn’t need all that much as it was, and in this case, auxiliary displays and a few secondary stations had been shut down and stripped for parts to keep more essential things running. But it was an even worse conference room, with crash chairs and consoles cluttering the open space. The only reason there was enough room for everyone present to sit facing one another was that the engineer was small enough to perch on top of a console.
In fairness, part of the reason for that was that their security chief and loadmaster took up as much space as any two of the others. Kirrik could have sat in his lap, but the Trygg didn’t really want to draw any more attention to their unconventional arrangement than might already be upon it, not during anything remotely official anyway.
Tue 28 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under Tribes of the Long Night
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The place was abuzz with magic. It was so strong it made Samal’s teeth ache, but even without sensing the aura it would have been obvious – snow whirled all around, driven by wind bitter enough to sting through Samal’s dense white pelt, but that one spot was calm, lush, and by all appearances warm. Time was out of joint there – the gloom of arctic night was split by the illumination of a sun at zenith that shone only there, on that placid water garden.
The centrepiece of which was a block of unmelting ice – with a figure trapped inside.
This discordant zone was doubtless the very source of the region’s eternal storms which he’d come seeking. It stank of black magic, but didn’t seem directly harmful to anyone but its hapless focus. Samal stepped over the boundary.
One moment, he was leaning on his staff with both hands and planting all four paws against the wind. The next, all was calm, and sunlight poured down on him. The reprieve was sinfully delightful – but he wasn’t here to enjoy the scenery.
Mon 27 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under One-shot
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Most of the bar’s patrons were regulars, just here for a normal Friday night. But there was one of them who was out of place. Not unfamiliar – actually Will knew the zebra quite well – but this wasn’t someone he’d have expected to see here. And on moving closer, there was something troubling about the way he was sitting.
It wasn’t a sort of trouble that sent off “leave me alone” vibes, though, so Will made his way over.
“Hey, Rollie,” the marten greeted. “You’re looking pretty rough. What brings you here?”
“Hmm? Oh, hi, Will,” Roland said back, glancing over for a moment and then gesturing invitingly at the empty stool beside him. He looked back down into his half-empty glass, sighing. “You’d think two years together would be time enough to get to know someone.”
And there was a valid reason for the normally-sober Rollie to turn to hard liquor. “Still torn up about Tabbie, huh?”
Mon 20 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under Fanfic, MLP:FwB
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It was the biggest thing this side of the Summer Sun Celebration. The ribbons were hung, the streamers were flying, and dozens of merchants had set up stalls or sales-wagons in the main square of Horseshoe Corners.
With this much bustle happening and traders from the nearby towns and beyond setting up shop where the trade roads crossed, Rough Rider had been a bit shocked, in the way of foals, when he’d learned that the oddly-named First Harvest Fair was just a local thing, not something celebrated across Equestria. Even more than the holidays that were in fact that widespread, this was the day everypony looked forward to. No Summer Sun formalities or Heart’s Warming pageantry or Nightmare Night offerings – instead there were games, foods from near and far, and wonders from all across Equestria to see as their little town turned into one big market for a day.
Thu 16 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under ICQ
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It had been a reasonable request. When a student who missed school – through no fault of her own, at that; sickness happened whether it was convenient timing or not – wanted some extra coaching to catch up, that was initiative that Matthew Zweigart wanted to reward and encourage. So it took some extra time after school; for a worthwhile cause like that, he’d make time. And the student in question was a decent student; he’d never regretted juggling those hours around to make those sessions happen.
The way the dog lit up under his direct attention didn’t hurt, and while it might not have been just the look of an eager student getting the instruction she needed, there was enough of that to disregard the possibly-lurking less-proper things.
So, once again, that brought them to his classroom for the hour after school. Jessie-Belle had put in good work between sessions, and he had no problem telling her so. Especially not with the way it made her smile.
Fri 10 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under World Tree
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Two days ago for the Herethroy protector-adventurer I finish the talisman of immortality.
She is the useful enough bug, the longtime companion, the quite reliable Herethroy that mostly I do not mind doing some favours for, such as the very long time doing no other enchantments. It is her share from the time we adventure together that pays for this talisman. Partly it is the carved statuette of ivory, the very detailed robed Cani forever leafing through a book with lifelike animation, the glory of Kvarse, that pays for the talisman. The work is long and difficult with many setbacks, but mostly I do not mind.
Today the krango-striped Rassimel says that he does not want such a talisman, not even if only my stash of wealth pays for it.
Fri 3 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under World Tree
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Weak, they’d called him. Sickly. Ill-favoured, if they were feeling kind; ugly, otherwise. The Duke’s son he might have been, but his brothers and sisters were Duke’s sons and daughters and hadn’t seen any reason to include an unhealthy little boy in their games and activities. It wasn’t as though an unhealthy puppy like Wreffen was likely to live to adulthood, never mind inherit their father’s title, so why cultivate loyalty with him?
Oh, the rest of Wreffen’s litter hadn’t been so harsh – they were all Cani, after all, and they were around him enough to know he had a keen mind and a good head for magic. But outside of that immediate circle, it wasn’t Cani who made up his associates – the children of a Rassimel legeriator here, young Orren guildsmen there; he’d even chanced to do an early favour for a very unlikely friend, a Sleeth on the cusp of becoming a mastersmith – the right word in his father’s ear had eased that appointment along.
Ironic that he’d survived through adolescence and into adulthood, while the same healthy children’s pursuits he’d been excluded from had killed Trust and Nastrothon.
Wed 1 May 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under SLASh
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The Hall of Dedication was a vast dome – one of the single largest structures to rise above the canopy of Sasheron. Through the reinforced glass of the dome shone the brilliant sunlight of a waning spring afternoon; beyond it on one side lay Sasheron’s main military staging facility, the second-largest stretch of developed land on the planet that wasn’t parked over, while on the other side lay some of the dense, red-leafed forest that had earned the world the moniker of “The Ruby of the Empire.”
Within the dome, opposite its arched entrance, between the main floor and the red expanse, a raised plinth was home to a rank of statues, armour alloy in three-times-life scale. There was one silvery statue for each race that had a large enough world in the Empire to muster a battalion of Imperial Guard, and two more: one, more alien than the rest, representing the Diplomatic Corps and, through it, all the Empire’s friends and allies; and another, ambiguously musteline – a hybrid of ermine and otter, if one read one’s history – to stand for all the races that hadn’t yet gained that distinction. Except for the amphibious Shikat in Diplomatic Corps regalia, all wore uniforms of the Imperial Service; and despite the anonymous grey of the metal, they wore Imperial Guard insignia.
Fitting, then, that the evening’s proceedings were to happen as the sun sank into a red sunset, with the red forest in the background.
Wed 24 Apr 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under One-shot
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In the first days, the Sun turned the light of his gaze upon the world; and he despaired, for it was bare and empty of beauty. And the Moon came upon him in the heavens, asking why he wept; but when he showed her the empty world that was his to warm, she did not share his despair. For though the world was empty, she told him, that meant only that it was ripe for whatever things they could create. They could make this world a thing of surpassing splendour, and it would be all the finer for their own craft upon it.
The Sun was amazed by the Moon’s wisdom and charmed by her beauty. If he could make one thing even half as fine and lovely, he declared, he could be satisfied with what he had wrought until the last days. And for his first offering, he sent to the world a spark of his essence, and there it prospered and the first fire was born, with a touch of the Sun’s heat and power but inspired by the Moon’s luminous beauty.
Wed 24 Apr 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under Legacy
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For a Crandil male, he was big – tall, muscular, and clad in shining bronze mail over his russet pelt. His thick fur was marred in places by scars, sprinkled with grey, and his eyes were hard as he looked over his visitor.
Smaller even than most Crandil men, that visitor was in some ways what the big warrior was not. He was sleek, handsome, and dark, wearing an elaborate wrap of many separate lengths of cloth. He might be beautiful if one liked that sort of youthful look, but in neither form nor demeanour was he very imposing.
“So,” the bigger man sneered, “this is the mighty Jisarr that the locals are clamouring for?”
Fri 19 Apr 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under ICQ
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Tue 16 Apr 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under SLASh
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Drevin blew out his breath, leaning back in his command chair and gazing into the tactical display. Over to the side, Vree announced the all-clear on the short-range plot, the snow leopard’s voice weary and ragged.
And well it might be. This was the fifth time in as many hours that they’d been stumbled upon by a Sakkarn patrol – and the third time in the last single hour. They were getting closer, their patrols thicker, their response times shorter. There was only so much the Red Valour and her remaining fighters could do to avoid a full-on clash.
But for so long as they could do so, that was what they would do. Again the instructions went out for a gentle course change. The last five times they’d done it, they’d gone in a different direction from the initial strong burn, sometimes a little bit different, sometimes greatly so; this time, the planned change was in the same direction.
At least they’d kept this up for longer than they’d dared hope. There were only two hours left on the minimum-response-time estimate, now.
Fri 12 Apr 2013
Posted by Shurhaian under SLASh
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A shake to Drevin’s shoulder brought the ferret out of what might, for lack of a better word, be termed a doze.
Blinking cobwebs out of his eyes, if not entirely out of his mind, he shifted himself closer to upright in his command chair. “Mmnf,” he greeted the universe at large. “’s going on?”
“They’re repositioning,” said the vac-suited snow leopard who’d awoken him, taking the liberty to touch the controls on the arm of Drevin’s chair and bring up the tactical plot.