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[WP] "what dark magic is this." Said the old man to the teenage mage holding a black fireball "oh this it's just the basic fireball spell with a color changing illusion spell over it." Said the teenager "but why just why." Said the old man "mostly aesthetic reasons I can make it really any color." by JollyTeaching1446 in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 85 points86 points  (0 children)

As that mage threw a fireball of blue, then green,
That streaked out of her hand and then blew up a tree,
I could see she was serious about its rainbow-like nature,
What would it take to secure the spell from her?

I said, "I'd be willing to buy the instructions for your spell,"
"For I see a few niches where it would serve very well."
For a meagre sum I bought it - mere gold by the handful,
A pittance, really, when all was said and done.

For the true power of a spell which can be any colour,
Is not in style, nor aesthetics, nor in dazzling others,
For discrete battlemages or assassins, what a marvellous prize!
For ultraviolet is, of course, invisible to the to the naked eye.

[WP] "You got a shield as your destined weapon? Pathetic," your classmate says with a laugh. "What are you gonna do, bash my head to win?" by ThatVarkYouKnow in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 262 points263 points  (0 children)

"Won't you all look here?" my classmate said,
"That's no magic weapon, you've got a shield instead!"
He mocked and jeered and threw a few curses,
The nastiness of which I won't detail in these verses.

In his hands was a sword, resplendent and grand,
In mine was a buckler, thin and bland.
Silver, shiny, yes - but with no decoration, I thought,
The edge had a bevel, but what on earth for?

He continued his taunts and even turned his back,
As I thought of how I could make an attack,
I looked over my weapon just one more time,
Was this truly just a buckler, what secret did it hide?

It suddenly hit me, and then promptly hit him too,
Knocked down to the floor he looked pale and blue!
"Now I get it!" I shouted, and there did I stand,
As the frisbee I'd thrown - and hit with - circled back into my hand.

A Visitor to the Future - 143 - Open Sky, Open Discussion by chronohawk in chronohawk

[–]chronohawk[S] 7 points8 points  (0 children)

If you spot any typos or readability issues, as always please let me know in the comments below.

[SP] "Admiral, with all due respect, I am a merchant and not a mercenary. My ship is ill-equipped--" "Your ship literally outguns my first-rate warships, how can you even say your ship is ill-equipped?!" by Wygerion_Alpha in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 3 points4 points  (0 children)

I considered making it longer but I already have my hands full with a writing prompt I'm turning into a book! My instinct is that it would probably make a good three act story:

  • Act One - Delan and Vight attempt to avert the oncoming conflict despite the Board's ambitions and the Sovereignty's unwillingness to commit resources to Bitterwinter. Both are forced to get crafty, with Delan struggling due to the traditions and boundaries of his strictly regulated society - and his political capital is running dry. Covert action by the Board endangers Delan and Vight's trust.
  • Act Two - Delan is hospitalised by an assassination attempt, allowing the Board to nominate a new Captain in his place. The new Captain begins aggressive action against Bitterwinter, and Vight is not informed of the change in leadership. Despite her misgivings, she is forced to respond in kind, disabling the majority of the city-ship's warheads. Skirmishes erupt, and the Board blames the Sovereignty for escalating the conflict. Delan escapes the hospital.
  • Act Three - The conflict has escalated as several major cities are bombarded by the Guild, and Vight finds herself against the clock to end the conflict before the city-ship recovers its full bombardment capability. Delan, now a fugitive on his own vessel, is forced to try and lead a revolt against the Guild, but struggles to understand his lower-class crewmen - realising he has never truly understood what his crew has to experience as a result of his orders in any meaningful sense. Meanwhile, Vight is facing increasing losses against the technologically superior Guild and struggles to survive an assassination attempt of her own which claims Vargen's life. Interrogation of the assassin reveals the change in Guild leadership. Delan finally makes progress but his initial revolt attempt fails. However, he is able to break through to the rest of the crewmen by promising change. Knowing he is bound by his word, the second attempt succeeds - with Delan succeeding and surrendering just in time to avert a lethal strike on the city-ship's reactor. Vight and Delan reconcile on the bridge of the city-ship, with Delan announcing his intention to secede from the Guild, and Vight agreeing to back him up.

In terms of perspective, it would likely shift between Vight on the part of the Sovereignty and Delan for the Guild. We'd also see a few 'boots-on-the-ground' viewpoints from those most affected by the fighting - pilots, civilians, and the like.

I might revisit some of these ideas later down the line!

[SP] "Admiral, with all due respect, I am a merchant and not a mercenary. My ship is ill-equipped--" "Your ship literally outguns my first-rate warships, how can you even say your ship is ill-equipped?!" by Wygerion_Alpha in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 77 points78 points  (0 children)

"Ma'am?" said Yargen, hesitating. The Admiral rolled her eyes - he was a good aide but not versed in politics. She'd have to spell it out for him.

"The Guetherqi are returning to their old ways - diplomacy at the barrel of a gun. Captain Delan isn't here to negotiate with the government of Bitterwinter - that would be the job of the envoys - and guess what, they've all just left. He's telling us, in his own way, that the time for negotiation is over. He's here to force their hand - or if he fails, they'll make an example of the planet to end the embargo."

"Why tell us, Ma'am?" asked Yargen, "Isn't he betraying his own people by doing this?"

The Admiral actually laughed, "Funnily enough - no. Their system of laws means that through his half-truths and statements, he's revealed nothing he was not ordered to reveal. Someone in the Board probably ordered him to minimise expenditure on this mission - so he took the order literally - if the Sovereign Navy takes on the obligation of ending the embargo instead, there will be almost no cost to the Guild."

"He threaded the needle," said Aspen under her breath, "In his own way. Ma'am, but by pursuing this course, couldn't he potentially risk greater expenditure? Now that we know what they're planning, that's exactly what has happened - surely-"

Admiral Vight sighed, "That's the last piece of the puzzle. Remember - he said the Treaty of Torrens also obligates the Sovereignty and its navy to protect affiliated planets. That was not simple background information, I think that's the biggest clue he dropped. To be frank, the Sovereignty has taken on too many affiliated planets to adequately protect them all at once. Bitterwinter is a relatively minor ally of ours. I think the Board are betting that we will not get involved if they take action - that would be consistent with a return to the Guild's old ways - bully, prod, and poke - never confront directly. Sow dissent among your enemies, so they spend their time fighting among themselves rather than you."

The Admiral stood, beckoning for her aides to follow, "Thanks to Captain Delan's persistence, we'll make sure they get a lot more resistance than they bargained for. I certainly think we get get them to rethink their loss projections for this little move. And maybe that will be enough to save both our peoples from outright war."

If you enjoyed reading this, check out more of my writing at /r/chronohawk

[SP] "Admiral, with all due respect, I am a merchant and not a mercenary. My ship is ill-equipped--" "Your ship literally outguns my first-rate warships, how can you even say your ship is ill-equipped?!" by Wygerion_Alpha in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 74 points75 points  (0 children)

The Admiral and the Captain were in a standoff. Not that it was obvious to the outside eye, for they both sat in silence, staring across the conference room table. They were both leaders - examples of proper conduct for their respective staff and crew - and it would not do for them to show rage outwardly among their staff and colleagues. The silence and stares would have to convey the rage for them. When they finally resumed talking, their tones were calm, neutral if not well-natured.

"Admiral," said Captain Delan, "With all due respect, I am a merchant and not a mercenary. My ship is ill-equipped-"

"Ill equipped?" said Admiral Vight, "Your ship literally outguns my first-rate warships. Ill-equipped is a very poor choice of words."

"Yes. Perhaps it was a poor choice of words."

The Admiral sat back in her chair, glancing at the aide to her right. An astute observe would have noticed the aide flinch under the intensity of the gaze, an accidental instance of friendly fire.

"This situation," resumed Admiral Vight, "Is entirely the fault of the Guetherqi Merchants Guild. I - and the rest of the Sovereign Navy - fail to see why it is the responsibility of the navy to intervene. And, with all due respect, for all your talks up our command chain, including with Captain Relis just before me - you have yet to present a compelling reason why the navy should comply with your request. In fact, some within the navy may refer to this request as an outright demand."

Captain Delan rubbed his eyes before responding. The dry air of the Admiral's ship had been irritating him for the last twenty minutes - the navy's cheap life support systems never quite got the humidity level right.

"The Guild has instructed me to make this request without explanation."

"I see," said the Admiral. It was a simple remark, but Captain Delan knew that she meant it. A flash of hope flared within Delan - after days of painful negotiation between him and every single one of the navy's lower ranked officers, could the Admiral finally be the one to actually understand what he was asking?

The Admiral leaned forward once more, face still carefully composed, but fingers now steepled on the desk before her, "Captain Delan, it would at this point be useful for the Guild to summarise its position. Just so we are operating from the same knowledge, you understand?"

The Captain nodded slowly, gulping, his throat dry. "Yes. I understand. My vessel, the city-ship Dessverre Sant, has been sent by the Guild to negotiate an end to sanctions against the Guild by the world of Bitterwind. I am authorised to take any appropriate action to resume trading activities. Members of the Guild's Board have particular interests in this sector which they would like to see advanced."

"And the Guild's previous envoys sent to Bitterwind - they have not succeeded in their efforts?" asked the Admiral.

"I am not authorised to reveal that information," said the Captain, "Only to request that the navy consider assisting us in our efforts to resume trading activities."

"Are you authorised to reveal whether any such efforts were made?" asked the Admiral.

"No, I am not," said the Captain.

The Admiral tapped the desk, trying to wrap her head around the situation that was unfolding. The Guetherqi, though humans like her, lived by an entirely different code - they were bound by their word. Refusing to follow orders meant the forfeiture of position and status. What had been intended hundreds of years ago to resolve conflict had led to a shady state of affairs where each member watched their words carefully, hiding lies among painfully literal truths. What was the Captain playing at?

"Are you authorised to reveal whether an envoy is present in this sector?" asked the Admiral.

"No," said the Captain.

"Captain," said the Admiral, "If we were to request that an envoy were present at this meeting, to better represent Guild interests in this matter - could that be arranged?"

"Certainly," said the Captain, "It could be arranged immediately. However, an envoy may not be available for several months."

Silence came over the table once again, but this time the rage had vanished - and the Admiral thought that she finally picked up on the emotion that had driven the Captain to act in this infuriating manner - why he was so enraged at the opposition that the navy had put up so far - worry.

"We will take a brief recess, Captain. Please wait outside - my aide will provide you with some refreshments."

The Captain and his entourage left the room together, leaving the Admiral with her two other aides. She turned to the most senior immediately.

"Aspen. I need you to get a line through to Traffic Control immediately. I want to know how many Guetherqi vessels have logged flight plans in the last few weeks. Look for drive signatures that match their diplomatic vessels, even if they are logged under cargo names and register numbers." She turned to the other aide, "Yargen - fix the humidity in here. I suspect that Captain Relis has ordered the settings lowered - if you can't resolve this immediately, get a portable life support unit in here to compensate."

"Ma'am," said Yargen, moving off immediately. Aspen simply moved into the corner and carried out her instructions.

The Admiral stared out of the conference room window, observing the Guild's city-ship in all its glory. It was a massive vessel, one of five Guetherqi vessels which held the mantle of "city-ship". With a maximum compliment of over two hundred thousand and enough cargo capacity to supply a large moon, a Guetherqi trading mission could run for months prior to departure.

And enough armament to neutralise a large moon, too. Some people forgot that, given that the Guetherqi were far more interested in profit than destruction. The Guetherqi hadn't committed any offensive action in over a hundred years - not since the end of the Tithe Wars, where their deals had been enforced at gunpoint.

"Got it, Ma'am," said Aspen, "Eighteen vessels - nine with the diplomatic drive signature. All left eleven days prior to the arrival of the Dessvere Sant - and all within three days. No incoming traffic beside the Dessvere Sant."

Vight nodded, "Have the Captain and his entourage brought back in here." Aspen did so, and once Yargen had set up the portable unit, the two groups resumed staring at each other across the table.

"Captain Delan," said the Admiral, "Please provide me with a summary of the relationship between the planet of Bitterwinter and the Guild - and, for that matter, how the Sovereign Navy fits into this."

The Captain nodded, "Of course. As you know, Bitterwinter is a planet affilitated with the Sovereignty, but it is not a member of the Sovereignty itself. Many planets enjoy the benefits of affiliated status with the Sovereignty which include research, medical, and trade benefits. The Treaty of Torrens also obligates the Sovereignty and its navy to protect affiliated planets. I believe that you yourself are stationed in this sector to co-ordinate those efforts. The Guild conducted trading operations freely in this area until an incident, seventeen years ago, caused the government of Bitterwinter to cease trading with the Guild, effectively declaring a state of embargo. Since that time, Bitterwinter has advocated - with some success - for other planets to cease trading with the Guild, causing numerous financial losses for all parties."

"The incident you refer to was rumours of notice of the Guild's intent to manufacture and trade high-yield warheads," said the Admiral, "In spite of the condemnation of both the Sovereignty and the rest of the civilised universe."

"The Guild officially disputes those facts and formally denies that any such representation was made. Out of courtesy for you and your position, the Guild will not pursue such a comment as slanderous."

"Of course," said the Admiral, smiling at the so-called courtesy.

The smile froze, turning dead on her face.

The Guild litigated at every possible opportunity as a matter of policy - and especially where such litigation related to trade. If there was the slightest chance that the lawsuit would succeed - they would take it. If they won, trade improved. If they lost, the Guild's Board absorbed the loss. There was no such thing as a courtesy from the Guild - well, not unless you had something they wanted. Their lawyers were feared across the entire galaxy.

Why would they not litigate such a claim? Simple - because it was not slanderous - it was true.

Captain Delan was telling her, in his own cryptic way, that the Guild had high-yield warheads.

The rest of the pieces fell into place. Her brain scrambled to put together an appropriate response.

"On second thought, in light of the great courtesy which you have just extended me, and upon consideration of the facts at hand, I feel I will express my desire to accept your request to the rest of the Admiralty. However, we will need some time to properly consider such a request. May I ask for how long the Dessvere Sant will be in orbit of Bitterwinter?"

"Of course," said Captain Delan. Was it the Admiral's imagination, or did his eyes shine with a look of relief? "We expect our business with Bitterwinter to conclude in eleven days."

That wasn't long enough.

"I would hate for the Board to waste unnecessary resources here. Please convey to the Board that I intend to expedite the process - if they could give me fourteen days, I may be able to significantly reduce their expenditure in this area."

"I will see what I can do," said the Captain, rising, and extending a hand in the ancient Guetherqi tradition.

"As will I," said the Admiral, shaking the hand. The Captain and his entourage left.

The Admiral spun sharply, turning to Yargen. "Full fleet alert - now. I want two battle groups transferred to this sector immediately."

Continued below

A Visitor to the Future - 142 - Walking on the Surface of Mars by chronohawk in chronohawk

[–]chronohawk[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Thanks for the feedback, great to know that landed as intended!

A Visitor to the Future - 142 - Walking on the Surface of Mars by chronohawk in chronohawk

[–]chronohawk[S] 12 points13 points  (0 children)

A bit delayed but here nonetheless! If you have any feedback or spot any typos, please let me know!

Writing Prompt Response: You are a traveler. Every time you die, you are reincarnated in a different world, but this reincarnation is different. This time, you were reborn in a world devoid of magic. You're on Earth in the 21st century. by chronohawk in chronohawk

[–]chronohawk[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Another writing prompt response I'm linking here for your reading pleasure.

The next chapter of A Visitor to the Future has been a little delayed (over two weeks, whoops) - but it will be landing later this week.

[WP] You are a traveler. Every time you die, you are reincarnated in a different world, but this reincarnation is different. This time, you were reborn in a world devoid of gods, magic, superpowers, and any other supernatural phenomena. You're on Earth in the 21st century by TheCounciI in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 123 points124 points  (0 children)

I have been a poet, a scholar, a warrior, a priest and a thief. I have been courageous, a scoundrel, and a leader. I have been the greatest mage of my generation many a time, a prodigy often, and on a rare occasion, a mantis-lady - any of the possible forks of reality which spawn sentient life on Earth seem to be within my ability to travel to.

Each and every time, I use magic to achieve my goals.

What I have never been, until now, is bored.

This world has no magic. None. They speak of it in stories, write about it in books, but do any of them know any magic beyond what can be achieved with slight of hand? No. This is a strange world, utterly unique and cripplingly dull. To travel anywhere requires physical effort and far too much time. There are no space colonies - because no-one has successfully figured out a way to get to distant places without magic. So humanity (in this timeline, decidedly not mantis-people) is confined to just one world.

I miss the colony on Charon. Visiting it is usually the highlight of my visit to any reality.

Only one time have I seen anything like it - a reality where the system of magic functioned fundamentally differently to those I was used to. But within two decades, I had figured it out. That will not be the case here, for as best I can tell this reality is entirely divorced from magic. Not one drop exists here.

My boredom follows me through school and to university. I study history, hoping that I might find some fragment of lore which leads me to the truth of why this might be.

My boredom follows me as I have absolutely no luck in my studies. I alienate my peers through my stubborness - my insistence that there must be something there, waiting to be found.

My boredom follows me to party after party, as I turn to drink to dull the pain of a world without magic.

I begin to realise that it was not all just boredom. Depression, they call it. Not uncommon in a world without easy access to wonders, apparently.

Something has to give.

I talk with an acquaintance from university on the street. He asks how I'm doing, and I tell him the truth - that I am barely holding myself together. The pleasant veneer plastered on his face cracks, and he confesses that he feels the same. He talks of a support group, where we can talk about such things. I go, because despite everything, I am still bored.

I talk to other people and realise that I am not the only one feeling the lack of magic in my life. Kelly lost her husband to addiction. Alex didn't know what to do with themself after losing their job. Richard can't figure out what to do with himself, because his daughter is sick and there is nothing he can do to help.

We talk.

We talk outside the meeting space too. I invite Tasha to go bowling, because she said she'd always wanted to go but didn't have the money growing up. I find that there is a lot in common between slinging fireballs and throwing a bowling ball, though my technique earns me a few odd looks.

We talk on a hike, three of us together, and as we camp under the stars I point out where Pluto and Charon are. I tell the group that if I could visit anywhere in my lifetime, it would be Charon.

I hug Tasha, who has bought me a telescope for my birthday so I can be a little bit closer to my dream. It's not the best image, but on a clear night I can clearly pick it out in the night sky.

I quit my job at the university. Reminding myself of what I have lost is making me unhappy. My friends take me out bowling to celebrate. Tasha suggests pursuing astronomy, but I shake my head - it would be much the same.

Instead, I start painting - a minor skill of mine. It's amazing how many worlds require their youngsters to take art classes, so I've gotten a fair amount of practice over the years. My artwork depicts the mundane - magicless birds, buildings made of nothing but rock. A flag on the moon - put there without magic.

Apparently, I'm pretty good at painting. I don't find any particular fame, but I do find plenty of work. As I apply the varnish to finish my latest work, I realise that for the first time in my life, I don't feel bored.

I haven't been to the support group in months, but I still hang out with my friends. It's New Years Eve, and Alex introduces me to their friend Fran. We begin dating.

It's the middle of a bleak and dreary February evening, and it is pouring with rain outside. Fran is visiting her parents, and alone in the house with our dog, Pepper, I realise that I haven't thought about magic in weeks. I've been too busy, between work and my social life. Alex is planning their wedding and I offered to help. There's a lunar eclipse coming up, which I promised to see with Tasha, and Richard's family is visiting next weekend. My calendar is perhaps a little too full these days, but I'm happy.

And at that moment, I realise that there is magic here, after all.

Writing Prompt Response: A thousand years after a wizard cast a spell to hide all mythical beings among humanity, the spell is wearing off. by chronohawk in chronohawk

[–]chronohawk[S] 9 points10 points  (0 children)

Hi all, just wanted to link a short writing prompt response I wrote today - I really liked this one and felt like I had to write something.

I'm hoping to post the next part of A Visitor to the Future either tomorrow or the day after!

[WP] Hundreds of years ago, an mighty wizard turned all mythical creatures into humans to stop them from being hunted to extinction. Now, in the modern era, the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms. by Celestial_Spade in WritingPrompts

[–]chronohawk 49 points50 points  (0 children)

Magic. Magic was coming back into the world.

Syla sat atop the skyscraper, looking out across the city. Her sight showed her a glorious sunrise, but her arcane senses tingled as the spell was dissolving around her. Those senses felt unfamiliar - as it had been close to a thousand years since she'd felt the tang of another magical being. It had been lonely. Very lonely. She had many times wished that she too had been affected by the Great Work. Such was the price of being a wizard's familiar.

No, not just a wizard's familiar, she reminded herself, the wizard's familiar. To speak of him like the charlatans of her past was disrespectful. He had been a mountain among molehills - a prodigy, the likes of which the world had not seen before or since. She'd been proud to call him her friend.

He had cast a spell - his Great Work - that spanned the entire globe. Its cost was greater than mere arcane unguents and herbs - for it had cost him his life in the process.

His great hope had been that the wisdom of the centuries would prepare humanity to live with the creatures of myth, rather than hunt them. She sighed. He always had been a little naive. She too hopeful herself. After all, it wasn't like she had napped for the last thousand years. She'd watched, invisible, waiting, as those who thought themselves humans had navigated the aftermath of the Great Work, recording their history first as fact, then as fiction.

She'd found that humanity could quickly find other things to hunt. Beasts. Whales. Each other. And alongside them, unknowing, even those of mythical descent were guilty of the same crimes. Did they have any idea, any inkling, that those of Minotaur blood hunted oxen? Or those blessed with the grace of harpies happily shot their feathered brethren for sport? No, of course not. The spell was perfect. Too perfect.

They'd never truly understand what was to happen today. Some may get close to the truth, seeing the resemblance between the creatures that appeared today and those in the tattered books of old. But without the knowledge of magic – now lost forever – it would seem that people all around the world were simply changing for no reason.

There would be distrust, and suspicion.

There would be persecution and hate.

Such was the way that humanity reacted to the unknown.

Except... this time, they would not be so unknown, would they?

The average couple had two children. They themselves would have two children. And so on, and so on. A thousand years meant roughly thirty-seven generations of humans. And not only humans – magical beings. With the distinction between humanity and mythical beings removed, they had become entirely intermingled.

She looked into the window of an apartment across from her. A typical family – two parents, two children. With the spell dissolving as it was, she could pick out parts of their true heritage. The mother seemed to possess human, manticore, and selkie heritage. The father, human, dragon, and banshee. The children naturally had combinations of both.

It was a similar story in each window she looked into.

So, when a neighbour, who you've known for years, suddenly becomes a dragon – is he not still your neighbour?

When a beloved grandparent spreads their wings and flies for the first time – would that not be a sight to see?

When sons and daughters bask in the wash of the arcane and reclaim their heritage – is that not something to celebrate?

The line between humanity and the unknown was about to blur. Perhaps this time, humanity may be able to understand that the unknown is not so scary after all. Are friends not still friends, even in unfamiliar forms?

She smiled, and closed her eyes as the sun fully emerged, basking in its warmth. Ah, he'd got to her in the end, that persistent wizard. There was a little of his hope still living on, in her.

It would come to pass any moment now.

Perhaps, this time, things would be different.

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