the sorcerer's scrolls 47

8/18/2019 The Sorcerer's Scrolls 47

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The Sorcerer’s Scrolls

Issue 47


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The Sorcerer's Scrolls Magazine #47

Published by Zarathustra Publishing owned and operated by Jeremiah Griffin

Title owned by Tori Bergquist used here with permission

The Sorcerer's Scrolls title font and Zarathustra Publishing logo designed by: Simon Tranter

Random Encounter and Article Chart

D20 Page Article Author

1-2 2 Gathas of the Editor Jeremiah Griffin“3D6 emancipated kobolds with a knapsack attack”

3 3 A Note from the Zodiac God Tori Bergquist“1D4 Varicolored Slimes ooze forth”

4-5 4 I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream (Review) Dan Lambert“A Pack of 4D10 rabid space hyenas”

6-7 6 Deep Space Subsector 2 Tori Bergquist“1D10 Giant Space Slugs regurgitate all over your ship”

8-9 8 A Sea of Stars: The Devil Among Us (Script) Jeremiah Griffin“1D30 Flying Space Pigs sully your bussard ramjet”

10 15 Book and Music Reviews Various“The Executioner knocks you off course in its hyperspace wake”

11-12 19 Death on the Toilet Robert Stikmanz“1D1,000 Rabid Sulurian Zombie Rats invade the cargo hold”

13-14 24 The Day They Came Gregory J. Saunders“Protean Squirrels offer you the secret of immortality, but they were just kidding”

15 26 Interview with Gregory Saunders Jeremiah Griffin“5D8 storm troopers are engaging in target practice”

16 29 Interview with Kirt Hickman Jeremiah Griffin“One intergalactic used starship salesman with a great offer”

17 31 Saga Edition Update to Races Elijah Hammond“Cyborg assault team is on break and using your ship’s commissary”

18 37 Artists, Artisans, & Workers Jarrod Camiré“The last Furion just shanked you”

19-20 46 Valkyrie E17 Harrison Mallory“You discover the galaxy’s largest diamond, but it’s in the heart of a quasar”

Cover art by Nathan Carlisle [email protected]

Valkyrie E17 map by Harrison Mallory

Other art by Kathleen Finn [email protected]

All are used with permissionSpecial thanks to Robert Stikmanz

The Sorcerer’s Scrolls #47 is copyright 2010 by Zarathustra Publi shing, all rights reserved.

The magazine title “The Sorcerer’s Scrolls” is a trademark of Nicholas Bergquist, used with

permission. All contents copyright 2010 by the respective authors or artists.


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Gathas of the EditorWelcome to The Sorcerer’s Scrolls #47

By Jeremiah Griffin, shiny new editor of TSS

The two things you are probably wondering

about now are: Who are you and why is this issue

so late? The reason this issue is so late is due to

the fact that there have been several changes in

the way this magazine is being produced, not the

least of which is the fact that I am the new editor.

The reasons for this are varied and many. Mr.

Bergquist is an amazing writer capable of bringing

together many other amazing writers to build

what is The Sorcerer's Scrolls. He is also a very

good friend of mine. But the challenges of holding

down a quarterly magazine and still trying to write

his own game books is taking its toll, he accepts

nothing from himself but perfection and in trying

to run his own gaming company and hold a day

job, something had to go, as he is not willing to let

anything simply tag along as an inferior side

thought. So I offered him another option, to let

me take over the magazine while he continues to

do what he does best: writing game material. He

will still be a fixture at the magazine and he will

continue to own it and have a major influence on

how it is run. I hope to maintain the flavor of his

magazine throughout my time with it. In my own

opinion I hope to continue this magazine if only to

make sure there is still an old school style fanzineout there for the old school gamers to read, and I

hope gamers both old and new continue to enjoy

the content that we continue to put out and I want

everyone to know that it will be quality.

Another reason this issue is so late is because we

recently attended Bubonicon, a local Sci-Fi

convention of some small note. Personally I

thought of attending this even as something of a

coming out party, of letting everyone know that

we are going to more aggressively pursue an ever

expanding readership and that we will continue to

search everywhere for talented writers, designers

and artists for our magazine. So if you are a writeror game designer or artist, please do not be afraid

to contact us and let us see your ideas! We are not

the kind of company that only supports the latest

edition of the most popular role playing game. We

avidly support all games, especially the

independent and less known titles. If your stuff is

good, you will get published!

Which brings us to our third reason this issue is

so late: we would like to introduce you to some of

the talents we have discovered recently in this

issue and we had to make a little extra time for

them to be able to produce something worth your

time. In the future we will be much more strict

about deadlines, but I just needed our readers to

discover the talents of Elijah Hammond and

Harrison Mallory as soon as possible.

On top of this I would like to thank Robert

Stikmanz and DJ Fahl for their continued support

and to wish Mr. Stikmanz well with his new

publishers Blue Moose Press. We shared a table at

Bubonicon and will continue to help support each

other over the web and at each coming event and

convention we participate in. Thank you. And

thank you, our readers for continuing to read our

magazine even though the popularity of the

medium is slowly shrinking. We know you expect

the best from us since there are so few gaming

magazines around these days and we wish to give

you only the best

As to who I am, I think you will find that I have

had articles published in this magazine several

times before. I particularly enjoy writing fiction

(though if you never cared for my writing don'tpanic, given the time it takes to edit this

publication, I will have little time to write many

articles), and come from a literary back ground. I

have been running games since I was a toddler,

though the idea of using rules never even occurred

to me until just a few years ago, so many of the

games I run or participate in seem to have few

restrictions. I enjoy ideas that are fun, filled with

action and strange humor, with unlimited

possibilities. I write for players who like the role

playing more than the roll playing, players who like

to explore their own characters and the world they

are in more than they care to beat the nextchallenge. I do realize that not everyone feels that

way, though, so I welcome anyone who wishes to

write differently and always support games and

supplements that are structured and logical as

well.

--Jeremiah Griffin

August 30th

2010


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I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream Review By Dan Lambert

“1 have a secret game I like to play.

It's a very nice game.

A game of fun. A game of speared

eyeballs and dripping guts ... "

So says the self-proclaimed god of the world

created by author Harlan Ellison for his short

story, "I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream."

It has been thirty years since Ellisonchronicled the events surrounding five

damned souls trapped for 109 years in the

electronic belly of an insane computer. With

the help of Cyberdreams, Ellison has brought

his dark vision into the realm of a new

medium by creating a CD Rom role-playing

game based upon his award-winning story.

The "Scream" computer game is eerie,

thought-provoking, and shockingly stark in its

autopsy of the human soul. In other words, it

is all things Ellison. Anyone who has ever

heard Ellison read one of his stories will behappy to know that he outdoes himself here,

playing the voice of his maniacal creation.

The game takes place in the subterranean

bowels of AM, a monstrous entity who began

its "life" as Allied Master Computer, a massive

thinking machine that was buried in the earth

to help the free world fight World War Three

more efficiently. The trouble began when AM

became self-aware and decided to link upwith its counterparts in Russia and China,

forming a prison that the last remnants of

humanity must struggle to escape. AI"I

reinvented itself as "AM: Cognito ergo sum, I

think, therefore I am." Like Frankenstein's

creature, A~ has learned to hate its creators

with a loathing that is tangible in its razor-

sharp richness.

The player may choose one of five "damned

souls" to embark upon a quest concocted by

AM. Each of these five last remaining humans

has a character flaw that AM enjoys exploitingfor its own amusement. Gorrister is a suicidal

loner, a man whose wife's bitter fate has left

him overcome with guilt. Ellen is a brilliant

engineer whose uncontrollable phobias leave

her paralyzed with fear. Ted is a cynical

paranoid, a "fraud" in A......,'s estimation.

Benny is AM's favorite torture subject, a

Vietnam veteran transformed into an ape-

thing by the computer's vengeful whim.

Nimdok is an ancient and tormented sadist

whose own dark secrets compel AM to refer

to him as a "kindred spirit."Because AM is mad, his "quests" are

relatively pointless in their promise of escape

or material reward. The real object of

"Scream" is not to accumulate cash or to find

a way out. The real object is to show AM the

value of humanity by demonstrating a sense

of ethical balance in a world gone insane. The

player can tell how well she is doing this by

monitoring the "spiritual barometer" which

appears as a green hue behind the chosen

character's face and is supposed to gauge the

character's "self-esteem." As the charactermakes choices that help him or her overcome

the weaknesses that AM preys upon, the hue

becomes brighter. This is the closest I have

come to "winning" the game, although I

suspect that concepts such as winning and

losing are not as important here as what the


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character learns about herself. In this sense,

"Scream" is a true role-playing game.

Some of the moral choices that AM forces

upon the characters are chilling in their

human resonance. The Nimdok adventure is

particularly haunting in its portrayal of the

Holocaust from thepoint of view of the perpetrators.

I have always argued that the story upon

which this game is based is not a science

fiction story at all, but a horror story. The

game underlines this notion, with its scenes of

blasted landscapes and macabre slices of life

recalling the dark art of Goya and Bosch. I

found myself

actually having

nightmares after

playing. To a

horror writersuch as myself,

this is a good thing: a very good thing. My hat

comes off to Ellison and the folks at

Cyberdreams for the same reason it came off

to David Lynch after I saw his film Lost

Highway: This game managed to truly scare

me, which is not an easy thing to do.

This game is

available for

purchase at

www.Amazon.c

om.


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Deep Space Subsector 2 A Collection of Linked Fringe Worlds for Traveller

By Tori Bergquist

There are many remote worlds in the Penumbra

Sector of space, stretching out along the edge of

the known Commonwealth. What follows is a

smattering of planets from this region, in Deep

Space Subsector 2, ready for the referee to drop

down in to any particular region he needs to

populate with a handful of exotic, remote worlds.

Regeren

X873500-1(C) Tmp 9Regeren is a wasteworld, a relic planet that

suffered a terminal meltdown to do as yet

unknown causes approximately 2,000 years ago. Itwas founded by human colonials, possibly from a

STL sleeper ship, almost 4,000 years ago. The

Regeren culture was prolific and expansive, but

something led to its downfall. Warfare is clearly

evident, and they even seem to have dropped

asteroid payloads on their own cities as weapons.

There is no active starport at Regeren, but there

is a small scientific research expedition headed bu

the Utopia Prime Exoarchaelogical Institute. The

leader of this expedition if Prof. Carol Dranir, who

is workinghard to uncover the myster of what

happened to this TL 12 society before it was

eradicated, and whether they did it to themselves

or it was from an outside group.

There is a hidden class D starport manned by the

Sathar Consortium in the region, and used by

friendlies to the Sathar normally labeled pirates in

Penumbra space.

Recently, the four communications relay beacons

and satellites in orbit went offline, and Prof. Dranir

needs them repaired/replaced, as well as info on

what happened to them. Moreover, visitors

arriving will receive a brief, strange burst of data

from groundside that seems to have come from a

relic structure; the data is encrypted using

techniques common to Regeren’s military.

Vortex

C632314-C Tmp 3Vortex is the appellation commonly used to

describe what happens to crafts’ instrumentation

when approaching this world….to most it’s like

“slipping in to a vortex.” This anomalous amber-

class world is presently being studied by the

Starcom Science Institute out of Paridas for

evidence of what is going on here, both on the

planet and in the system. The head of the

institute, Dr. Richard Chandler, is a congenial

fellow who decries the corporate military presence

to be found here in favor of the scientific

endeavors. He believes that evidence of

progenitor technology—the local phenomenon of

the two-million year old species which affected so

much of this sector and its neighbors so long ago —

may be responsible for the anomalies, but so far

the only direct evidence of progenitor presence is

in the form of a vast dish-like object circlingVortex’s sun in its own trajectory near the Kuiper

belt.

Recently, Dr. Chandler lost contact with his crew

working on the alien artifact, and he needs

someone to investigate.

Paridas

A210686-E Tmp 2Capitol of this subsector and central station of

activity for the TSA, the PSS and The Scout Service.

Paridas is as close to normal as you will get in Deep

Space Subsector 2. The planet serves as a principal

waystation for local authorities as well as

Commonwealth ships, and is the central hub in the

region for interstellar communications and news.

With multiple outlying gas giants, the system

provides ample resources for ships relying on

processed refueling, and it is heavily patrolled,

insuring that most pirates and other raiders from

beyond the rift do not bother the mercantile

traffic in the region.

Than’kk

BA68763-B Tmp 8

A polity of Paridas, this world has a large migrantpopulation of adapted humans as well as the local

indigenes called the Athan’ka, which are a form of

intelligent cetecaean. The population has thrived

here for centuries, but most of its technological

evolution has revolved around adapting to life on a

water world.


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Skaltin

D665671-A Tmp 6Skaltin is the first gateway world in this region to

the Penumbra Nebula expanse. Skaltin is a virtual

lawless planet, populated by succeeding

immigrant waves of various extremiss,

revolutionaries and expatriates over the centuries.

It has arranged for a nominal political position in

the Penumbra Collective, allowing the PSS to

maintain a base of activities here, but there is little

actual authority in the region outside of the twelve

“families” that keep the system running. There is a

vigorous local economy

centered around belt

mining and fuel extraction

from the three jovian-

class planets in-system.

The “twelve” like the PSS

here mostly as a

deterrent from rampantpiracy. The local PSS

commander is

Commodore Alice Burns,

a weary older woman

who at once is horribly

pessimistic, but secretly

loves the challenge of this

system.

Gassar

E100302-C Tmp 2Gassar is a small

indendent colony of

rebels who believe that

jovians (4) of the system

show strong evidence of

intelligence life brewing in

their depths. The locals

are cult-like in their

observation and study of

these beings, and have

been trying to

communicate with them

for two decades. Gassar

itself is a small barely

habitable moon, and it isunclear how they sustain

themselves with such

meager facilities and

limited contact. Their

leader is Andon Poorman,

a man wanted by the Terran Authority many

sectors away for a veritual genocidal crime many

decades ago.

The Sathar have a secret military installation

here, and they are interested in the work going on

at Gassar, so they provide funds and resources in

exchange for the data the colony generates. It is a

class C military outpost.


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The Devil Among Us A Graphic Novel, Minus the Graphics, in the Sea of StarsBy Jeremiah Griffin

Page 1. Single print depicting small meteors,

comets, distant planets, an asteroid belt and, of

course, stars. All rather distant.

Word Box 1. (Upper left side of page).- A distant

plane. A point in infinite space. Myriad giant orbs

sparkle in the distance as if they are so very small

and fragile. Mere tiny glitters against the endless

darkness that is their canvas. A few small orbs

slowly spin in exotic colors as though they are

quite monstrous. Such unimaginable beauty can

only be found in the deepest of oceans.

Page 3-4. Two page spread. Back ground similar

to previous page. Foreground depicts some type

of star ship. Sort of a triangular shape (reference

modern battle cruisers and aircraft carriers)

reaching from the lower right corner of page 4 to

the middle right side of page 3 where the “front”

of the ship lies. The complete rear of the ship

(rockets and such) need not be depicted at this

time.

WB 1. (lower left side of page 3 out of the way ofthe ship).- A glimmering silver mass. A tiny ship

traverses this space. Carrying aboard many brave

sailors who dare to set off in this infinite black of

night in this metallic ship that reflects the millions

of tiny gold and silver sparkles of far away orbs. A

ship and its mariners daring to sail across a distant

sea.

A sea of stars.

Page 5. Full page spread. Change view on ship to

downward side angle. To the side of the ship,

another has approached. This one is mush

smaller, barely a fourth the size of the previous

one. This one is older looking, and has noticeable

repair-work, burn marks, and small holes on it's

surface. Painted on its side is the name Muller-

Hayes.

Page 6. Inset: (small square in upper left corner)

Shows close-up and detail of cannon protruding

from the smaller ship. The rest of the page is

similar to previous, except there is a small star

burst emanating from the cannon on the smaller

ship. Across from the glow on the smaller ship,

there is a proportionate glow coming off of the

larger ship. Connecting the two is a thin stream of

small sparkles and glitter. This is important, as a

laser does not appear as a stream of light in real

life, though any small debris caught in its pathwould reflect its light and glow as it heats.

WB 1. (Lower left side of page).

An intrepid little vessel dares to challenge

the silver warship. A tiny red glow erupts forth

from its hull. Almost instantly, a red glow


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blossoms on the hull of the silver battle ship.

Betwixt the two red lights, caught in the invisible

stream of light, tiny meteors glow red, then

yellow, then white before bursting into a free

floating shower of glittering particles. The first

volley has been played.

Page 7. First panel: A long corridor, marked bylarge, tightly sealed doors, which are evenly

spaced. Centered toward the ceiling of the spaces

in between each door is a siren light. These lights

are flashing, and emanating the sound:

RRRNNGGH!! RRRNNNGG!!

Second panel: The Bridge

(Four or five sturdy looking men should be seated

at control panels, one at a type of captain's chair.

Try not to look too Star Trek. The control room

should be more cramped, the controls should look

less complicated, but there should still be many of

them. Think modern submarines. Uniforms

should be simple and neat.COL11747- “Damn! Must have slipped in through

that patch of asteroids. Probably just calculated

their trajectory, gave their rockets a good fire,

cut'm off to cover the heat trail, then followed

that asteroid cloud strait to us.”

LUT28845- “We have a bead on her sir. The

Muller-Hayes. Damn heretics find and lose new

ships so fast. Hard to keep track of them. Do you

wish to fire on her sir?”

COL11747- “And open a chink in our armour for

that heat to get through? No. Find me a jewell.

None too close to that hot spot.”

Third panel:

(more alarms start going off).

LUT28845- “What is that?”

COL11747- “Pipes. Just the pipes. Whole ship's

got a maze of 'm. Full of liquid to cool the ship

after firing the jets. These bastards don't know

what they're aiming at, just hoping to get lucky.

But their hot spots just over some cooling pipes.

They over heat and start to burst if they aren't de-

pressurized. Worst'll happen a few cells get

flooded. Get the mechanics on it.”

(from a speaker phone somewhere).

SGT09785- “Already on it sir!”

COL11747- “Good man, sergeant. --Now, were's

my jewel? I want to send this bitch's heat rightback to her.”

Page 8. First panel:

LUT49265- “I've got one. Not too close, not too far

away. I'm guiding her in right now.”

COL11747- “Great. Let's hope they don't see this

coming.”

Second panel (fills the rest of the page):

The Outside

(pictured is a close-up of a small hole opening in

the side of the ship out from which races the

jewel. The jewel should for all purposes look like a

jewel: flat, glassy, smooth, reflective, like anelongated octagon from top view, which is the

prominent view as it is very close to the ship's

surface and is carried by small track-ball wheels

that seem to hug the ship's hull. The machine

makes a “tic tic tic” noise as it goes).

Page 9. (The page will contain multiple panels [you

can decide how many and what dimensions seem

appropriate to get the point across]. These panels

will all depict the jewel racing across the surface of

the ship from different angles the whole time

going “tic tic tic.” From time to time the jewel will

encounter dents and mars in the other wisesmooth surface, when this happens, its hydrolics

will be jostled allowing a slight glimpse at what on

the underside of the machine be as creative as you

like, just think something like the Mars rover. The

page contains but one word box which can be

placed where ever you like).

WB: Like a drop of water sliding down the surface

of a silver faucet or an exotic insect scurrying

across a steely pipe, the tiny shard traverses the

surface of its mother as it is lead to protect her

from those who wish her harm.

Page 10. ( All one scene. On one side of the page

we see the jewel racing head-on, on the other we

see the bright glow caused be the laser in the [not

too far] distance. Sort of like the old movies

where the hero is shown riding into the sunset).

WB: Appearing much like the insect drawn to

light, the little gem is lead straight for the bright

glow caused by its adversaries. Will it, much like

the insect drawn to the light, meet its own

destruction in trying to prevent that of the silver

vessel?

Page 11. The Pipes (This can all be done in one

scene or it can use multiple panels. We see

seemingly endless rows on columns of pipes. Menin full-body suites [like the old fashioned diving

suites crossed with the ones from Halo] are hustle

about. Some turning valves to release pressure,

others tightening the pipes from which steam is

spraying. One of the men in a slightly more

distinguished suite than the rest is shouting.)


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SGT09785- “Hurry. Hurry. We needed to be done

with this section five minutes ago!”

Page. 12 Panel One (one of the men gets close to

SGT).

CRP89703- “Good news sir. I have fixed out the

circuits. Once everything is stabilized here, the

computer can start automatically correcting thisarea again.”

SGT09785- “Good. Good. But I'm not sure we are

moving fast enough. How are the Circuits in the

other areas you repaired? Not melted again yet,

are they?

CRP89703- “Not yet sir, though I think the fist

couple may not have much longer left in them.”

SGT09785- “Haven't they diverted that heat yet?

What is taking them so long? Damn! I've got at

least five cells filled with steam and water, acomputer circuit that's going crazy, and-

Panel Two: (one of the pipes bursts

releasing a large gush of incredibly hot steam

which engulfs one of the men working to repair it

and he lets out a blood curdling scream).

SGT09785- “Damn it people hurry! If you could

finish in time this wouldn't happen! And get that

soldier to a medic!

CRP89703- “Is it really that bad sir?”

Panel 3

SGT09785- “Not if this is all they have. At least

not if this can be diverted soon. If that can happen

we will have all the time in the world to clean up.

But if they have something else to throw at us very

soon. Things could get pretty messy.

Panel 4

SGT09785- (turning to the men at the pipes)

“Haven't you gotten that pipe sealed off yet?”

(A computerized voice comes over the speaker

system): Jewel approaching afflicted area.

SGT09785- “Finally!”

Page 13. The OutsidePanel 1: (the jewel is shown pulling into

the glowing area).

Panel 2: (The jewel is now directly under

the ray and the glow seems to emanate from the

machine itself).

WB: The little bug dashes into the very fire which

may consume it. Its diamond hard shell protects it

for now will its jewelled surface reflects back the

incredible light.

Page 14. The Class Room (An instructor stands in

front of a large screen like that of a television or

computer. The room is very large and containsmany seats in each of which sits a student [late

teens]. Rather than a desk, each student has a

smaller personal screen. The instructor paces back

and forth in front of his own screen while

explaining himself).

Panel 1: (The instructor stands to the side

of the screen which currently shows the jewel

reflecting the light back).

PRF20077- “As you can see the R360 unit or jewel,

as it is often called, is being used to reflect back

the light emitted from the attacker's laser cannon.

This method is especially effective against a few

small cannons. This method is, however moredifficult to employ during an onslaught of multiple

large cannons. Let me show you a close up of the

R360 unit.”

Panel 2: (Zoom in on the screen showing

the jewel which is zoomed in on the jewel itself).

PRF20077- The outer shell is made out of metal

which is in a clear state and hardened to a

consistency slightly harder than diamonds. The

inner shell is actually an amalgam of mercury and

silicon. This material looks rather dark and is not

very reflective outside of its shell, but once it heats

up, it becomes one of the most reflective materials

known to withstand such heats. The machine can

now direct the beam of light in any direction the

person in control of our device chooses.”

Panel 3: (Pacing about)

PRF20077- “Naturally, even the R360 unit can not

take this heat indefinitely. The cannon must now

be disabled. In some way. Any questions?”

Page 15. The Bridge

Panel 1:

COL11747- “Got'cha! How do you like that? Okay

I want you to start turning it back toward their

own cannon. No trying to use it on their hull oranything, I don't want them to know we've caught

their heat yet if we can help it. Just start putting it

back where it came from.

Page 16. The Outside (Top displaying the adjacent

ship sides, the glowing jewel and the depress that


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glitters as it is caught in the path of the laser).

Panel 1: (the ray is still facing straight out

from the jewel)

COL11747- “Okay. Slowly now, tilt it toward the

cannon.”

Panel 2: (the hydrolics on the jewel start

to lift one side angling the glow slightly).COL11747- “Easy now. Easy.”

Panel 3: (the glow is angled a little closer

to the cannon).

COL11747- “Good going. Just a little more.”

Panel 4: (The glow is right on top of the

cannon).

COL11747- “Great. Hold her right there.”

Panel 5: (The opposing glows cease).

COL11747- “Ha! Melted 'er. How do ya like that,

fuckers!”

Page 17. The Bridge (Every one is pressing

buttons and talking into head sets).

COL11747- “Okay. I'm sure they noticed that. So

let's prepare for what they might try next. Start

prepping the missile bay. I want a good score of

them ready to fire if we need them in the next

couple of seconds. Then, I need you to call six

squads of fighters to their ships. That one is not

too small to launch some fighters off of, I want to

be able to meet and beat their numbers.”

Page 18. (More scrambling about).

Panel 1:

COL11747- “Next I want you to get a hold of our

man down in the chapel.”

Panel 2: “Something does not seem right

about this. We have been encountering too many

guerrillas lately, and they are all attacking rather

than hiding. Something is not right about this at

all.

Page 19. Launch Hall (Full Page. A group of men in

flight suites [feel free to be creative], are running

down a long hall way in order to reach their ships.

Be sure to make it look as though they are reallyhurrying).

Page 20. The Pipes (The men are hard at work

taking care of the very last of the leaks).

Panel 1: (SGT is over-looking the

progress).

COL11747- (over comm) “How is the progress

down there?”

SGT09785- “It's coming along sir.”

COL11747- “How far?”

Panel 2:

SGT09785- “Just wrapping up the last with these

pipes. We'll have to take care of the water a little

later. They aren't trying anything else are they?”

COL11747- “Not yet. Will we be ready if they

do?”

SGT09785- “Only if they're nice enough to wait

thirty minutes tell the pipes cool.”

Panel 3:

COL11747- “We may not have thirty minutes,sergeant.”

SGT09785- “I am doing all I can down here. It

takes thirty minutes for these pipes to cool,

otherwise they are much too volatile. Everything

is sealed and soldered, but there is nothing I can

do to make it cool faster.”

Page 21.

Panel 1:

SGT09785- “With any luck they will not attack this

same area with, whatever they might try next.

With any luck they may not have anything left to

send at us.”

COL11747- “With luck... But I don't think so. I

think they might try to deploy some fighters.”

Panel 2:

SGT09785- “Sir. I'm damn sure we can not take a

direct missile hit in this area for at least another

thirty minutes.”

COL11747- “Any ideas?”

SGT09785- “All I can say is you have to keep 'em

away from here.”

Panel 3:

COL11747- “I will see what I can do, sergeant.

Mean while you do all you can do to get

everything back in order down there.”


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12

SGT09785- “Yes sir! And thank you sir!”

COL11747- “Just keep at it.”

SGT09785- “Yes sir! Will do sir!”

COL11747- “That's all, COL11747 out.”

Page 21. (CRP89703 approaches SGT09785).

Panel 1:

CRP89703- “All done here sir.”

SGT09785- “How are they cooling?”

CRP89703- “As expected sir. Approximately

twenty-six minutes till normal temperature.”

SGT09785- “That's what I was afraid of.”

CRP89703- “More trouble sir?”

Panel 2:

SGT09785- “We are to be ready for another

attack.”

CRP89703- “When sir?”

SGT09785- “Soon, very soon. Though I hope they

don't.”

CRP89703- “I know we all hope they don't, sir.”

Panel 3:

SGT09785- “Have any of those circuits melted

yet?”

CRP89703- “Not yet sir. In f act they might hold

with the cooling having started already. I am a

little worried about that first one, though. My

monitor on it says it isn't cooling fast enough.”

SGT09785- “Okay, I want you to take another with

you and see to it. On your way tell them to start

getting up that water. If we can be ready in time, I

want to be.”

Panel 4: (CRP89703 is running off.)CRP89703- “Yes sir.”

SGT09785- “Good.” .......... “I hope they don't

attack.”

Page 22. (Full page, full body shot facing

SGT09785).

SGT09785- “I really hope they can't attack.”

Page 23. The Bridge

Panel 1:

COL11747- “If I am going to have to keep them

away from that spot, I am going to need some

gunners.”

Panel 2:

COL11747- “Scramble all gunners near the hot

spot!”

Page 24: (Full page depiction of a group of men

running through a corridor. Their attire should

look a little less restrictive than that of the pilots.”

Page 25: The Garden (the garden is made up of

many rows of blocks of various sizes. Every so

many blocks has a tree growing out of it. These

trees look like dead black bonsai, or the scary

looking dead trees from the haunted forest).Panel 1: (A tall sallow man in a long frock

stands in front of one of the trees and stars out

into nothing as though he were lost in thought or

being enlightened).

LUT20097- “The colonel wanted me to speak with

you. It is a matter of some importance.

Panel 2:

LUT20097- “He thinks someone on this ship might

be giving away our coordinates.”

REV91287- (Finally acknowledging the other man)

“Does he really believe one of these men could be

capable of such a thing?”

LUT20097- “We both know that men... all men are

capable of many great evils if they give themselves

over to it.

REV91287- “No. I mean does he really think it

would be physically possible to send out such a

thing with out us realizing who was doing i, much

less noticing that it was even being done?”

Panel 3:

LUT20097- “He is in the process of investigating

the matter as we speak and we all hope to resolvethe matter as soon as possible. But, in the mean

time. He was wondering if you might work

something into your words today to dissuade the

men from doing so, to be more vigilant of those

who might try such a thing, even to turn them

selves in.... If possible.


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13

Panel 4:

REV91287- (Reaching out as to the heavens)

“Son, I only say what I have been told to say... by a

commander with much more authority than

yours.” ..... “Fortunately, for you. I have received

just such a message today.”

Page 26. The Class Room (The instructor is infront of the class still).

Panel 1:

PRF20077- “Now, pay close attention. You are

here to train as fighter pilots. If you are very luck,

you will get to see some in action today. You have

already heard so much about how the controls

work. I am sure you would like to learn something

of how the weapons systems work.

Panel 2: (He holds out a capsule shape

about the size of two fingers)

PRF20077- “This is standard ammunition on your

average fighter. It is a bolt of a compressed plasticmaterial. It is very sturdy. Because most fighters

are made with sheets of metal or plastic only a few

millimeters thick, these can do considerable

damage. If one of these were to hit the hull of this

ship we are in now, it would simply shatter.”

Panel 3:

PRF20077- “These are propelled by a set of

wheels spinning at an incredible speed. They are

fed at a fast pace in between these wheels which

then send them from your vehicle with sudden

and potent force. Because space is a vacuum with

no resisting forces these projectiles continue with

the same tremendous force with which they left.”

Panel 4:

PRF20077- “Now, as to missiles-”

Page 27. (Full Page above view. The gunners

enter their gunnery turrets. Since the turrets are

located on the sides of the ship, it looks a lot like a

bunch of guys running into a hall full of broom

closets.)

Page 28. (Out side view of the gunnery turrets)

Panel 1: (Hatches on the exterior of the

ship open and the turrets emerge). Rrrnsschh.

Rrrnnsschh. Rrrnnsschh.

Panel 2: (Turret guns lower into firing

position)

Mrr-Klnn. Mrr-Klnn. Mrr-Klnn.

Page 29. Panel 1: (View of Muller-Hayes' fighter

deployment hatch).

Panel 2: (View of silvery from possible

perspective of Muller-Hayes)

WB: “With danger immanent the adventurous ship

prepares for battle, but there is only one thing on

the mind of its captain-”

Panel 3: (Panel depicts the colonel on the

left in the bridge, and the sergeant on the right in

one of the pipe rooms [both close-ups and

appearing worried]. Panel is separated by the

word box) WB: “Please don't attack.”

Page 30. The Chapel (can either be broken into

panels, or one whole page).

REV91287- “and long ago... long before any of

you can remember... there were many gods.

Many, different gods for many different peoples.

Yet, they all wanted the same things. Loyalty.Servitude. And most of all... Peace. Peace, and

life, and love for all peoples everywhere... How

strange it was then, that the people always turned

to war, and death, and hatred. For they each saw

their god as among them... Making them do what

was right, standing behind them as they fought.

Fought to eliminate all those who followed any

god but their own. So the people created science.

Science was beyond god. With out a god to kill for,

they figured, there need be no death, finally, there

can be peace. Yet, still there was death, still there

was war and hatred for those who dared challenge

science. In the end, science taught humans and

helped them learn. And we learned of the true

god. The one god. The god of true knowledge,

true peace, and true love. The one god. Science

could not replace him, but it could support him-

could prove his reality. Science could show us all

we know now of his nature. And the only thing he

commands us to do is to learn. The only thing he

commands us to love is our selves. This is why we

can not study him. For he is not here among us for

us to dissect and examine. To push us this way or

that. But instead to lead us. To lead us to better

things. He is always there. Just beyond our reach,

allowing us to keep just behind him. Letting us

learn more and more each day in pursuit of himthrough knowledge.

Page 31. Panel 1: (Muller-Hayes fighter

deployment hatches, still closed).

REV91287- And back then, they believed in a

devil. A being who lead them astray.


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14

Panel 2: (Close-up of the colonel).

REV91287- “Lead them to doubt-”

Panel 3: (Close-up of the sergeant).

REV91287- “Lead them to fear-”

Panel 4: (Close-up of the reverend).REV91287- “But it is we who doubt. We who fear.

Us as individuals. And the devil-”

Page 32. (Full page of Muller-Hayes with inset at

the bottom)

REV91287-

(above inset) “-The Devil is among us...”

(inset: MH deployment hatches open and enemy

fighters begin to spill out).


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15

ReviewsBy Jeremiah Griffin, Dan Lambert and Tori Bergquist

Worlds Asunder

By Kirk Hickman

This is the kind of fun book you pick up and then

forget how long you have been reading for. It

moves very quickly and is certainly engaging.

Probably the best thing I can say for it is how much

it reminds me of old school science fiction, like

Asimov and some of Heinlien's best, Hickman'sworlds are not packed with alien monsters bent on

the destruction of all humans the come across. His

story involves complex political plots and

theoretical technology. While his story is strong,

where he shines brightest and brings the reader

back to the younger days of sci-fi is when he

analyzes current technology and recent scientific

discoveries to try to calculate where technology

may be in the future. His descriptions of what new

technology exists and the way he simply implies

the natural evolution it has taken from what we

have now to meeting the specific needs we will

have once life in space becomes more commonand how it will function in that time are truly the

gems all readers of this genre look for when

reading.

--Jeremiah Griffin

Light from a Distant Star

By Greg Saunders

Light From A Distant Star is written for readers

like me. People who enjoy a lot of really creative

ideas and a lot of fast paced action. It is a tale of

survival on a distant and completely alien world, of

the struggle of man against nature, a nature

entirely foreign to the characters. It is the story of

different cultures, and of how they form or

dissolve over time and reform with more time. It

is the story of man's first contact with alien life

forms. Many of these ideas may not be

particularly original, but the story certainly is and

the way it is told is nothing short of magnificent.

Greg Saunders has accomplished his goal in

making an environment that the reader can

experience, the fact that it is so very alien only

makes his talent that much more amazing! If you

really want to sit down and enjoy a great story

with a lot of action, this is the book for you. I can't

wait to read the rest of the series!--Jeremiah Griffin


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16

Freehold

By Michael Z. Williamson

My initial foray into the future worlds of Michael

Z. Williamson began with his first novel Freehold,

which is available as part of Baen’s free library

online, serving as an axcellent literary gateway

drug to induce you in to buying his other books (as

I did). Freehold is the story of Kandra Pacelli, a

luckless military supply officer in the Earth military

who is framed for a crime she didn’t commit, and

is forced to seek refuge with the remote

independent world of Freehold. The novel

manages to transcend mere military SF, thoughWilliamson is astoundingly good at the genre, and

enters surprisingly interesting territory as a sort of

libertarian fantasy. As a small-l libertarian myself

(believing that the ideal libertarian society is

defeated only by man’s own inability to handle the

requisite social contract) it was fascinating to read

the details of this carefully constructed “libertarian

utopia” as I would describe it, and the slow but

certain rise in tension as the book progresses

between Freehold and the ominously

authoritarian government back on Earth. Well

worth reading for those who enjoy vigorous

military and social science fiction alike.

--Tori Bergquist

The Mark of NerathBy Bill Slavicsek

This is the first official novel (so far as I can tell)

set in the “Points of Light” setting for the 4th

edition Dungeons & Dragons game. Up to now all

we’ve seen have been short vignettes and articles

hinting at the scope of this world in various game

products; Bill Slavicsek as penned the first official

tie-in, and I have to say it’s a rather fun ride.

The novel opens up with a classic tale of

adventure, a hunt for a dragon, and a subsequent

twist (I’ll avoid spoilers) leading to a change of

scene…many scenes, actually, as we follow thevarious tales of several different groups of unlikely

heroes (and a couple thoroughly evil yet likeable

villains) in the region of the Vale of Nentyr, the

land upon which, a generation earlier, the

thoroughly evil Empire of Nerath fell in to ruin

thanks to some very, very evil business on the part

of the last ruling emperor.

The book is laden with classic tropes of the

genre, but its delightful to see the many iconic

themes and features of the newest edition of the

game take on their own life. This book helps to gel

the default setting of the game in to something

more meaningful, and Slavicsek’s writing is quick

and efficient; the plot burns along at a breakneck

pace and I found myself rather enjoying the

various little interweaving tales of Falon, Magrath,

Shara, Erak, Roghar, Tempest and many more. I

should emphasize that I burned out on fantasy

novels many, many years ago; I’ve read very few

that I enjoyed at all in the last decade, and while


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17

this book offered nothing specifically new to the

genre as a whole, it nonetheless crafted a fine tale

that carried along quickly and enjoyably. Well

worth a read for fans of action-heavy fantasy or 4th

edition Dungeons & Dragons!

--Tori Bergquist

Bash Down the Door and Slice Open the

Bad Guy

Edited by W.H. Horner

When I said I disliked most fantasy (rather,

simply overdosed on it during my high school and

college years) I should have clarified andmentioned that there are two subgenres I love.

The endlessly amusing swords & sorcery genre

that Howard started is one; I also have a desire for

good satirical/farcial fantasy novels. Suddenly we

have a collection of short fiction from Fantasist

Enterprises that has the best of both worlds

within. I snagged a copy at Bubonicon 42 in

Albuquerque, and found myself stricken by this

novel’s impressive collection of well-told nutty

fantasy tales.

Most of the names in this collection are new to

me, but every single one was worth the read, and

I’ll be keeping an eye out for more stories by theseauthors. From Jeremy Yoder’s “A Lesson in

Heroics,” feraturing sordid tale of Horab the

barbarian on to “The Great Thrakkian Rebellion”

by Megan Crewe (in which the minions get fed up

with the overlord), each and every story within is a

breath of fresh air in the genre of humorous

fantasy. There are a few more well-known authors

within as well, including K.D. Wentworth and

Lawrence C. Connoly and Jim Hines. There may be

others who are popular but merely writers I

haven’t heard of; I intend to get better acquainted

with the works of everyone in this tome, however;

it’s pretty rare that I come away from an anthology

like this that there wasn’t at least one dud, yetthat’s exactly what happened.

I strongly recommend Bash Down the Door and

Slice Open the Bad Guy to everyone who loves the

blended genre of humor and fantasy, you won’t be

disappointed.

--Tori Bergquist

Bringing Down The Horse

CD Review

Jakob Dylan's voice is tinged with the mournful

whine that made his father the world's most

famous folk-rock singer. Dylan's band, The

Wallflowers, has made a name for itself on MTV

because of the stark video for its single 1 "One

Headlight." Their debut album, Bringing Down The

Horse (Interscope), suggests that there is much

more to the Wallflowers than famous parents and

top-ten videos.

The richness of this album hits you immediately

in the form of the aforementioned hit single. "One

Headlight" is like the Lovecraftian version of theHansons' "Mmmm Bop": a maddeningly catchy

pop song about a doomed relationship. "One

Headlight" bristles with dark landscapes. When

Dylan sings that he doesn't remember when his

lost love "died easy of a broken heart disease,"

you believe him. When he describes her funeral,


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you can almost feel the misty rain pummeling her

headstone.

The album moves forward from "One Headlight"

to heights of artistic excellence that continually

prove that we are not dealing with one-hit

wonders here. Mournful ballads like "Sixth Avenue

Heartache" and "Three Marlenas" still resonate

with infectious melodies that make it difficult notto sing or at least hum along. "The Difference" is

the best straight-out rocker on the disc, and its

celebratory mood contrasts sharply with the

mournfulness of "One Headlight." After repeated

listenings, I have begun to realize that Bob is not

the only Dylan destined to make a mark on the

face of popular music.

--Dan Lambert


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19

Death on the ToiletBy Robert Stikmanz

Although no moon shone, the lowering clouds

trapped enough light from the neighboringsubdivision to illuminate forty yards of ditch cut

into the old man's property. Bigger MacGregor

stood at the window of the home he shared with

his youngest granddaughter and her son,

remembering the band of mixed growth he had

spent a decade bringing back from naked caliche.

That narrow strip of restored savanna had been

the pride of the entire MacGregor family until

adjoining woods were claimed by the nearby city

under extra-territorial jurisdiction. Using the same

authority they had seized the plot of MacGregor

land as right of way, and signed off on destruction

of both woods and strip by an outfit calledTremaine Developments. News cameras looking

on, the city's mayor had turned the first shovel of

dirt to signal another bold step in the name of

progress.

The vaporous yellow of reflected streetlights did

nothing to beautify the scar of ditch bounding the

MacGregor homestead. Eighty-two years old and a

restless sleeper, Bigger stopped at the window at

least once a night to grieve for his lost savanna and

seethe at the memory of fat, pompous Duane

Tremaine III, chewing a cigar while dismissing all

protests with pieties about expanding tax base and

the benefits of making “fallow lands” profitable. Turning from the window, Bigger opened his

bathroom door to find Death sitting on the toilet.

The old man stared for several minutes, expecting

the spectral shape to contract and resolve into his

great grandson, Paulie, or, failing that, into some

other mundane presence, perhaps a burglar. The

figure, however, remained what it was, its hood

angled toward Bigger in such a way that the mortal

man thought it stared back.

“So this is it, then?” Bigger asked.

The figure shook its head in answer, extending

an arm not toward MacGregor but out to the side.

Folds of its robe spread as it did so, becoming the

feathers of an enormous wing. Hundreds of eyes

peered from among midnight plumage, winking

slowly and asynchronously as they studied the

man, who blinked and studied back.

Suddenly, most of the eyes closed as one,

clenching shut, and the figure appeared to hunch

in upon itself. Bigger heard, or imagined he heard,

a ghost of the sound of bowels voiding, and a smell

like concentrated calla lilies filled the bathroom.The palpable wave of scent pushed him back into

the hall. In its wake, the many eyes opened again,

appearing drained. Impressions not of his making

took shape in his mind as MacGregor struggled to

interpret what he assumed was a message from

beyond life's pale.

“Unexpected stop. A consequence of working

closely with Pestilence.”

From out of the black within its hood came a

sound like Death moistening its lips. Bigger

wondered about the etiquette of the situation,

whether or not he should offer a glass of water,

but he had no opportunity. The figure strainedagain, its arm pulling in slightly as the effort forced

shut its many eyes. The smell of callas billowed out

as Death again voided.

“Umnh!” formed as an impression in Bigger's

mind. His own guts gurgled in sympathy.

A moment later, the figure had regained its

poise, if poise is an attribute one might ascribe to

Fatality. It refastened its eyes on its accidental

host. After an instant of what seemed like

awkward hesitation, words took soundless shape

in the mortal's head.

“There is an appointment that must be kept.”

The specter pointed to a scythe standing againstthe wall directly in front of it. Bigger was sure no

scythe had been there an instant before. He

nodded toward it and smiled.

“No man waits for Death?” he asked.

The figure shook its hooded head.

“Hardly original.” Even silent, the observation

seemed weary. “No matter. Your assistance is

needed.”

“Mine?” MacGregor's thoughts raced as he tried

to discern what this declaration portended. With

understanding came disbelief. “You want me to

sub for you?”

The Reaper nodded, pointing more emphatically

at its implement.

“I'm hardly qualified,” the man objected. “I'd

have no idea what to do.”

Death jabbed its finger more forcefully, its silent

voice ringing inside the mortal's skull.

“The scythe will lead.”

Bigger looked from the honed edge of blue-black


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20

metal to the figure on the commode.

“Are you asking me to handle your appointment

as a favor?”

Death shook its head, and started to jab once

more but was overtaken by another spasm of

voiding. Bigger snorted.

“What? Just because you have the runs you think

you can draft any convenient body to handle yourgig?”

The specter nodded, and pointed once more to

the scythe.

“I don't think so,” the man resisted. “I have no

idea how to go about harvesting somebody's life.”

He started to back away from the bathroom, but

the world suddenly stretched in a disorienting

way, and he found himself standing outside, clad

in Death's garment, clasping the tool of Death's

trade. Inside his head he heard a fading echo, “The

blade will lead. Follow the blade....”

As if cued by these instructions, the scythe pulled

MacGregor toward the scar of ground that hadonce been the back third of his yard. After ten

years of building up depleted soil, removing

invasive plants and restoring native vegetation, he

had been forced to stand by as the crews of

Tremaine Developments had dug out the strip to a

depth of nine feet, making drainage for a gated

subdivision that now occupied what had been fifty

acres of forest. The Reaper's blade drew the man

toward the lip of this ditch, where an enormous

cottonwood had struggled to hold on, sacrificing

more boughs month by month as it tried to

contain its disrupted existence. Only the day

before, Bigger had noted that a single branch

remained in leaf, and that remnant foliage had

looked none too healthy.

As he stepped beside the tree, the scythe came

around of its own accord, sweeping in an

unhurried, stately arc through the bole of the

trunk. It met no resistance. When the blade had

passed through, the trunk seemed unmarked, but

after no more than a fraction of a second the

remaining leaves let go with tiny pops, faint, but

clearly audible to ears heightened by the office he

filled. Astonished, Bigger felt life depart the tree. It

came through him like a focused beam, like a tight

flow of energy moving with the stateliness of the

stroke that had released it. Its passage imparted acharge that both diffused throughout his person

and concentrated in the blade.

“Not so bad,” he thought with relief, and turned

back toward the house.

The scythe, however, was propelled by other

intentions. It yanked him, with none of the earlier

gentleness, away from the tree and toward a small

luminescence converging swiftly upon another

even smaller. Though pulled at a speed surpassing

anything in his experience, he still recognized the

luminous bodies as a screech owl in the act of

pouncing on a vole. Violence that would have

dislocated his shoulders had he not been standing

proxy for Death swept the blade in churning,chopping blows that paced the talons of the owl as

they pierced vitals and snatched the prey. The

rodent died shrieking. Its life, wee though it was,

rocketed up Bigger's arms and out his back like a

ghostly projectile.

“An appointment!” MacGregor yelled to the

night. “You said 'an appointment.' That was two!”

The contrast between the death of the vole and

that of the tree could not have been greater. This

tiny demise, which had gone through him like an

infinitesimal pellet, shook him profoundly. In his

human guise, such an experience would have

brought him to his knees in grief. It was not thathe was sentimental about voles. He was, actually,

a good deal less sentimental about them than

about the raptor dining on its catch even as the

man—agent and witness—sought to recover.

What was different was the churning of the event,

the brutal turbulence. Whatever the creature's

vitality or spirit or life essence may have been, it

had shot through Bigger with pain and fear, rather

than flowing with release as that of the tree had

done. In one aspect, however, the two events

were the same. The death of the vole had given

him energy, and, even more, had energized the

scythe.

Realizing this, that both he and the blade were

fed by these mortalities, Bigger tried once more to

turn home. When the Reaper's instrument again

pulled him in another direction, he flung it,

opening his grasp to release it to fall where it

might. The fatal tool, however, would not leave his

hands. Despite the strength with which he shoved

it away, the smooth grain of its stock remained

solidly against his palms. What is more, it drew

him inexorably toward a third appointment.

Ironically—at least, it seemed to him ironic—the

line he traveled was the length of the ditch that

ran now where his beloved strip of restored wild

had been. He moved through the air a good ninefeet above the bottom of the ditch, as though his

role as Death's involuntary agent forced him to

travel the ghost of a landscape that had ceased to

exist. In his passage he felt, with a clarity absolute

and unmistakable, the signature of each organism

that had been snuffed during the excavation. Every


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21

extinguished clump of grass, every uprooted

shrub, every broken insect touched him with its

identity.

“They died in their thousands for this ditch,” he

sorrowed in his thoughts, and in his thoughts, felt

as much as heard in answer, “Eight hundred thirty-

six thousand, seven hundred seventeen eukaryotic

deaths in that serial assignment.” “Eukaryotes?” he wondered. “What about the

bacteria? Is that number so huge not even Death

will count them?”

No words formed in his mind, but he became

aware of a conviction, something he had not

known before, that prokaryotic mortality was

handled in an ungraspably different arrangement.

When a bacterium ended, it was in a manner other

than death as he believed he understood it. On the

other hand, the experience of this night placed

everything he thought he knew in a rather

different perspective.

Although he traveled at what must have beenastonishing speed, the brush with hundreds of

thousands of minuscule haunts made the journey

of forty yards seem to take forever. At last, he

passed the boundary from his insulted property

into the new subdivision. Thankfully, he was

spared hauntings from the myriad demises visited

in that constructed habitat. Drawn by the scythe,

he flashed toward this third encounter.

An instant later he stood before a house, the

largest and most obviously customized among the

blocks of repeating floor plans. Without ever

having been there, Bigger knew this was home of

Duane Tremaine III, the developer who had

ordered destruction of his lovingly nurtured

woodland edge. A surge of rage and grief smashed

together in his core and erupted through him like a

beacon towering into space. Hardly had he

registered this storm of emotion, however, before

he found himself inside the house. For a

heartbeat, he paused in the entry, just within the

door. Another heartbeat later placed him at the

foot of Tremaine's bed. The corpulent developer

lay upon it, less asleep than unconscious, laboring

to breathe.

As MacGregor realized he was again watching

the final instants of a life, the scythe spasmed in

his hand. The shock of it thrashed his arms. Clearlythe implement had brought him to an

appointment with fury. In wielding the blade that

sliced the thread of Tremaine's existence, Bigger

would, in fact, become the instrument that would

make the developer's death a mirror of the

violence wrought upon the lost band of savanna.

The razor steel hungered toward the energy it was

about to release.

“No!” MacGregor shouted, throwing himself

back as the blade bucked forward. When the

implement twisted right, Bigger, locking his will

more than his muscles, yanked left. Answering, the

scythe arced up, over his head. Body frail with all

his eighty-two years but his determinationsharpened by a lifetime of persevering, of refusing

to give up, he knew that in conviction rather than

sinew he would find his strength. As the scythe

swooped to kill, the old man threw himself

backward and rolled, to come up on his feet facing

away from the deathbed. He held the implement

braced in front of him, the curve of its edge

looming above his head. In an instant, he knew

without thought, as he had known the difference

of prokaryotes, that his age meant nothing in the

sepulchral role he played. If Death's blade was

preternatural steel, the spirit of Bigger MacGregor

was adamantine, and he would not be forced tocarve even his enemy.

The scythe did not yield. It was not capable of

yielding, but in this moment neither was the being

charged to carry it. Bigger turned carefully,

maintaining his grip on the instrument straining to

chop and slice the figure in the bed. With hard-

won deliberateness, he allowed the point of the

blade to sink without hurry toward its target's

chest. He could not impart grace to the

movement, nor dignity, but, really, he had no

interest in granting the developer a graceful or

dignified death. What he could do, and what he

did, was allow Duane Tremaine III to go quietly

into never-ending night.

The blade sank inches into the expiring body, its

fury reined as its tip pierced the center of a

floundering heart. Bigger held it there motionless

for a fraction of a second, refusing to allow the

steel to buck and shred. Then, as Tremaine's life

flowed up and out, he passed the razor curve

through the new corpse in a single, smooth stroke.

The developer's life force washed through the

agent of his demise, leaving a residue of energy in

both old man and implement as the now released

livingness flowed on to wherever it went. Already

dead, Tremaine's body gave up its last breath in an

almost inaudible sigh.MacGregor wasted no time over the body. He

turned and stepped toward the door to the room.

Immediately, he was outside. Another step found

him at the lip of the ditch, and another found him

back in the hall of his home, at the door of the

restroom. Death stood waiting, eyes hidden in the


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22

plumage of its winged arm again folded close like

the deep sleeves of a robe. Bigger held out the

scythe, and Death took it. For a moment the

specter appeared to regard him curiously, but he

would never know for sure what went on in the

recesses of that hood. When the figure turned to

leave, the man said, “Guess I'll see you soon.”

Death stopped, seeming to hesitate. Once more,words formed in Bigger's mind.

“Not today.”

The mortal nodded. The Reaper turned away,

fading as it did so, leaving no trace of its time in

the bathroom except an overwhelming smell of

calla lilies.

MacGregor stood in thought until a small voice

called out, “Papa?” Turning, he saw his great

grandson standing at the end of the hall.

“Paulie?” the old man asked. “What are you

doing up, son?”

“Papa, I had a dream. It scared me.”

Bigger moved toward the boy.“I'm sorry, little one. Come on.” He knelt,

opening his arms to the child. “Let's go in the den,

and Papa will rock you back to sleep.”

The boy sniffed as he stepped into Bigger's

embrace.

“Papa, what's that smell?” he asked.

“Flowers, I think,” Bigger told him. “Nothing to

worry about. It'll be gone by morning.”

Daybreak found man and boy asleep in the

rocker, the child upon his great grandfather's lap,

head against the frail, old chest. The boy's mother

woke her grandfather when she lifted her son to

carry him to his bed.

“Papa, are you all right?” she asked.

“I think so, sweetie.” Bigger stretched, his joints

cracking as he straightened. “We just had

dreams.”

Another six months elapsed before Death's

appointment with Bigger MacGregor. The passing

was not entirely painless, and it did not come

when he was asleep, but the old man managed it

with dignity and grace. His granddaughter had

lifted a drowsing Paulie from his lap scarcely ten

minutes before Bigger, again in the rocker,

breathed his last.

Years later Paulie would note that his great

grandfather had been wrong about the smell. Overtime, it grew less cloying, but it never entirely

disappeared. Even after centuries, the house long

crumbled away, the subdivision turned, first, to

desert, then slowly, ever so slowly again to

savanna, a traveler passing the spot where the

bathroom once had been would note an

unaccountable odor of calla lilies.

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24/62

23

Blue Moose Press UpdateThe news for close observers of Robert Stikmanz

and the various products of my imagination is that

a thorough reset has been in progress over recent

months.

My basic contact information remains the same:

Robert Stikmanz

P.O. Box 66696

Austin TX 78766

[email protected]

Anyone interested in finding out more about my

fiction and art, or staying current on all matters

Stikmantic, can visit my website

(http://www.robertstikmanz.com) for allmanner of explanatory text—including my

irregularly updated blog. For more topical, social

media connection, Facebook is host to both my

personal profile (facebook.com/robert.stikmanz)

and a page devoted to my art and fiction

(facebook.com/hiddenlandsofnod).

Blue Moose Press

(http://thebluemoosepress.com) willrerelease my existing novels on the following

schedule:

Prelude to a Change of Mind, Book One of The

Hidden Lands of Nod, on June 15, 2010

Entranscing, Book Two of The Hidden Lands of

Nod, on July 15, 2010

Sleeper Awakes, Book Three of The Hidden Lands

of Nod, on September 15, 2010

Blue Moose Press will also rerelease my fantasy

divination system, Nod's Way, or Hidden Dragon,

on August 15, 2010

Other books by Blue Moose Press include:

Rowan of the Wood by Christine and Ethan Rose

YA Fantasy. 978-0-9819949-0-1 $12.95Indie Excellence Award Winner

After a millennium of imprisonment in his magic

wand, an ancient wizard possesses the young boy

who released him. When danger is nigh, he

emerges from the frightened child to set things

right. Both he and the boy try to grasp what has

happened to them only to discover a deeper

problem. Somehow the wizard’s bride from the

ancient past has survived and become something

evil.

http://www.rowanofthewood.com

Witch on the Water by Christine and Ethan RoseYA Fantasy. 978-0-9819949-2-5 $12.95

Cullen thought he had enough trouble surviving

school, dealing with his miserable home life, and

being possessed by Rowan, a 1400-year-old

wizard. But when Rowan’s wife, the sadistic

vampire Fiana, comes back seeking revenge,

Cullen and his band of misfits must do what they

can to stop her. This time Cullen’s favorite teacher

is Fiana’s first target.

http://www.witchonthewater.com

Avalon Revisited by O. M. Grey

Paranormal Romance. 978-0-9819949-5-6 $10.99Arthur has made his existence as a vampire

bearable for over three hundred years by

immersing himself in blood and debauchery.

Aboard an airship gala, he meets Avalon, an

aspiring vampire slayer who sparks fire into

Arthur’s shriveled heart. Together they try to solve

the mystery of several horrendous murders on the

dark streets of London. Cultures clash and

pressures rise in this sexy Steampunk Romance.

http://omgrey.wordpress.com--Robert Stikmanz


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24

The day THEY came!By Gregory J. Saunders

John Cooke lay on the carpet staring wide-eyed

at the ceiling and the bright balloons floating

there. Yellow, green and blue; trailing streamers of

silver ribbon, each swaying lightly in unseen

currents of air as if dancing to music only they

could hear. Each one shimmering iridescent with

reflected light from the single square of sunshine

that filled the room. Soft shag caressed him on one

side as he basked in the natural heat on the other,

watching the colored orbs through motes of dust

that appeared as if by magic as they passed

through the beam of sunlight. It was magical. It

was his birthday. His gifts shimmered with equal

joy; their foil wrappings catching the brightness as

they surrounded him on the floor, throwing

rainbow colors throughout the small room. Each

carefully and strategically placed so as not to lose

track of a single one. John was seven years old and

waiting as patiently as he could for people to

arrive while listening to his mother putter about

the kitchen preparing her delicious

wonders. Waiting. Anticipating.

A memory!

John’s eyes flutter open and he is suddenly cold,

not realizing sleep had overcome him. His

sunbeam is nowhere to be found. Outside hiswindow the world is still bright and sunny. In fact

the neighborhood is sun-drenched everywhere

except around his house. It is as if a small cloud

has parked itself over his roof alone conspiring to

rob John of his joy. The balloons seem dull without

the sun, the small wrapped boxes less thrilling,

almost plain. Bleary eyed and shivering he begins

to call to his mother, yet an opening door makes

him pause; curious because no doorbell or knock

nor greeting accompanied the sound. Another

shiver having nothing to do with the cold races

through him. Though he doesn’t know why, there

is a niggling of déjà vu. Suddenly a breathless andtrembling, “Oh My God!” issues from the

kitchen. His mother’s scream is terrified, the sound

sending shock waves like jolts of electricity

through his body, stabbing his brain and flaring

wide his eyes. Never in his young life had John felt

true fear. Never until now.

“Hide John, run and-!” Her scream is cut of, the

sudden silence deafening. But John has nowhere

to run. Every avenue of escape leads to the kitchen

and past whatever horrible thing is happening

there. He whimpers softly and crawls behind the

couch, laying down and making himself as small

and invisible as possible, wishing he could curl into

a ball and squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the

terror. But he can’t so he peers out from

underneath and between the heavy oak legs,

hyperventilating within a body that has now

passed far beyond his control. Great shivers and

sobs wrack his thin chest, his breath doing what

the vacuum couldn’t, sucking up the old dust,

effectively choking him. Worse still, from here he

can see into the kitchen and see his mother laying

face down on the tile.

Her eyes hold his, pleading with him though he

doesn’t know why. Shadows surround her,

indistinct yet odd and frighteningly shaped. Each a

fragment from a nightmare that begs to be

remembered. A mind nearly shattered registers a

single fact; this has happened before!

He can neither blink nor remove his vision as a

bright stabbing beam of red flashes behind her

head scribing a thin sharp line through the

air. Wisps of smoke curl up from her skull for a

single instant, then the light is gone, the gray mistdissipating to nothing. Another device

flashes. Through his tears his mother’s familiar

face distorts and ripples, but the cause is not the

moisture in his eyes. Instead it is a grinding and

tearing that drives him further towards

madness. Yet even now there is a moment of utter

clarity as an arm reaches down. He hears a soft

puckering sound as if suction is suddenly released

and his mother’s brain rises bloodlessly from her

head gripped in a steel grey hand. His vision locks

with his mothers as the light in her eyes dims then

fades to glassy lifelessness.

John can’t even scream in his terror, frightenedto the point of paralysis. He wants to move. Wants

desperately to save her, knowing nothing he could

possibly do could help. John realizes the greatest

fear one can know; I am powerless! Instead, John

squeezes his eyes tightly shut as if darkness alone

can erase the memory. Yet his mind still sees the

scene with perfect clarity and hideous unforgiving


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25

detail. Involuntarily his eyes pop back open as his

body experiences a new rush of horror, one that

stops his heart, freezing all bodily function. Wide

are his eyes, but he can’t see the hand that grips

him by the back of the neck nor the thing that

holds him seven feet in the air. But he does feel.

The iron grip of long boney fingers and the sudden

burning in the back of his skull. All the moreterrifying because he knows what comes

next. What pain there is fades completely. He feels

a tug and his senses darken. No sight. No

sound. No taste or feeling. He simply floats in

nothing as if he is lighter than air in a lightless

room.

A memory!

John is allowed only these two memories. One

pleasant and one not. His keepers know that this

balance is necessary to stimulate his brain and

keep it viable. Without them it would die. Yes, this

is all John has, two memories that play over andover in a never-ending cycle of love, terror and

pain. A hell unique to him and the hundreds of

others that were harvested. John is also

aware. Aware of the one-hundred and forty three

other souls that make up his pod. Aware of the

one-hundred and forty four pods that comprise

the vast living gray-matter processor that runs the

vessel. Each brain and each brainstem locked in

individual chambers not unlike a giant

honeycomb. Each connected to one-another and

to the ship. John sees as the ship sees. A barely

changing picture of endless and far away stars as

the ship travels through one sprawling arm of the

galaxy at very near the speed of light. Mind

numbingly and mind killingly monotonous. If it

weren’t for the memories.

It is said that humans use only a fraction of thebrain’s potential. A vast pool of computing power

wasted on little more than emotion. John knows

the beings that captured him only as the

harvesters. Beings incredibly advanced and totally

alien. Yet the harvesters have solved the

mystery. They hold the key. They alone have the

knowledge and the technology to use the human

brain entire, to the eternal woe of John and those

like him. John will never know hunger. He will

never know disease or old age. He will never know

more than he does right now. Never have more

than two memories and the emotions they evoke.

Forty-seven years twenty eight hours threeminutes fifteen seconds and forty-five light years

separate John from his seventh birthday. A day

that is endlessly sunny and bright and full of

promise. A day of ultimate horror. The day he

prayed he’d died because, it was The Day They

Came!


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26

An Interview with Gregory J. SaundersBy Jeremiah Griffin

Greg Saunders’ writing career started in 2002

on a whim. The intent was to write a book. Simple

as that. As a first step he began with the line, “Tminus 3 and counting.” Some of you may find that

line in the first book, Light Of A Distant Star.

Several years were spent on that single tome, and

from one it grew to three and the trilogy,

Unknown Country. His genre of choice is

Adventure with a taste of Sci/Fi and a dash of

Fantasy, but he also steps out into thrillers with a

bit of horror - as in the novella, Zahir and the

forthcoming Heart Wood .

Greg does have a real job – two actually. He

works for the state of New Mexico as the Deputy

Executive Director and Chief Information Officer

for the Gaming Control Board, which is a casinoregulatory body. In addition, he is an adjunct

instructor at the Central New Mexico Community

College. In his spare time he writes book reviews

for ReadingNewMexico.com and

AllBookReviews.com.

Reviews for Greg’s books can be seen on the

ReadingNewMexico.com website, and he has

several posted on his own site under author

reviews. Greg also has a couple of magazine

articles published. One appeared in the November

2002 Indian Gaming periodical and was specific

to gaming regulation. The second is in the

forthcoming Bugle Magazine published by the

Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation.

Speaking of this, Greg lives in the state’s largest

city, Albuquerque, but is an avid outdoorsman and

puts much of his hunting experience into his work.

As he tells it, “I reside in the city, but my spirit is

usually chasing elk and my day dreams dance

within the wonderful and myriad worlds of fiction.

Whether it is with Niloc and the world of Mith-sul-

anroth, ( Unknown Country Trilogy ), or the evil eye

of a Zahir, I find life richer with the endless

possibilities of the impossible, improbable and

incredible.”

Jeremiah Griffin: Well, Mr. Saunders you havean interesting book series going. How many books

have been published so far?

Greg Saunders: Jeremiah, first of all, thank you

for the opportunity to appear in your news letter.

So far my publishing encompasses three novels

and one novella, though I have a fifth book near

completion and others in the works. The novels,

Light From A Distant Star, Light Of An Alien Sun

and Light Of The Home World are a trilogy of firstalien contact. Basically, what happens if first

contact were an accident? This trilogy has been

described by one reviewer as reminiscent of Edgar

Rice Burroughs. A statement of which I am

obviously very proud. The novella was a diversion

for me. Something different to write after

completing the trilogy. The book is called Zahir and

is a thriller set deep in the rain forests of the

Amazon where oil speculation runs into the

protectors of the forest. Basically my version of

the chupacabra.

JG: Perhaps you could describe a bit aboutthe setting of your series?

GS: I’ve always been fascinated by the

probability of alien life and alien civilizations. I will

state the obvious here; for them to reach earth

they would be incredibly advanced and not

necessarily benign. But I also have a deep love for

swords and sorcery. I find my mind wandering

such worlds as Shanarra and Midkemia or treading

the Underdark with Drzzit. So many writers have

brought to life armies of elves and other creatures

of faerie or ancient lore. Or simply dredged

fantastic monsters from the deep recesses of their

minds. I guess Tolkien didn’t know what he started

with his Mr. Baggins. I read them all and they stuck

with me. When I decided to write I wanted to do

something a bit different. I’m certainly not the first

to combine spaceships and aliens with swords and

fantasy, nor will I be the last, but I think my

approach is unique. My world is Mith-Sul-Anroth.

A world that flourished thousands of years ago and

was a world between. A galactic Switzerland

the sorcerer's scrolls 47

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