Works in Progress

Long Stories

2008-02-07T13:16:11Z

I'm trying to break writer's block. I don't know if it can be truly called writer's block; it's Real Life rudely intruding and disbalancing me emotionally.

In Gotham's Shadow is challenging to write for me. Its projected length is at least 50K because this story was intended to be my NaNo'07 project. Only once before I have written a story so long. Spirits That I Called was the NaNo'05 novel and is only a very rough draft. It isn't finished at all, it isn't even readable yet. After that I was so fed up I haven't been able to look at that pre-novel again so far. (Although I believe that it could become a real novel if I could bring myself to sit down and rewrite it.)

So my personal record is at 50K unfinished. The longest finished story is The Demon's Own at 4.9K. In Gotham's Shadow has just jumped over the 10K hurdle. It is quite respectable for me but now I am lagging and I haven't reached the middle yet. I wonder if I am not cut out to be a novel-length writer. The problem is that the plots I dream up are novel(la)-filling but the act of writing them down - this I find incredible hard.

So, fellow writers, what is the preferred story-length you are writing? Did you ever have similiar problems reaching novel-length? How do you maintain the motivation?

x-posted to kyrre and anvar

Wonderful examples of worldbuilding

2008-02-06T23:04:25Z

I would like to manage such immersion into a strange culture:

The Aphorisms of Kherishdar by haikujaguar

A New Player (Batman Begins AU/ Shadowrun crossover)

2008-02-02T23:13:53Z

Fandom: Batman Begins AU/Shadowrun crossover
Prompt: 075. Shattered
Wordcount: 4434
Beta: by temve, all remaining errors are mine
Summary: In an alternate future the League of Shadows begins the war against a far greater Evil than just civilization.

A New Player

Any other woman attending the party paled in comparison. She was tall and lithe with large green eyes and long, midnight-black hair. Her looks and her smile charmed the men and her voice spellbound the masses. Everything about her was natural, none of her perfection owed to surgery or cosmetics. That was of great importance to him. She complemented his human shape. When he kept his true shape, she was Nadja Daviar, His Voice, who translated his mental speech for the cameras and microphones.

Together they were moving in the rhythm of the tango, impressing and inspiring the other powerful and important men gathered here in the ballroom of the Watergate Hotel. This was his inauguration party and it was only right that he proved to be their leader in dancing as well as in politics.

The various social customs of humanity – many of them unspoken and contrary - amused him often. Nonetheless he adhered to them if they served his needs and plans. So the sudden presence of Carla Brooks, his head of security, at his shoulder in the middle of the dance was a bit surprising.

"Forgiveness, master." The tall, dark-skinned elf murmured in his ear. She didn't waste many words. "It is QuickSilver. Urgent."

"My dear Nadja," he said quietly to his dance partner. "Excuse me. This is a call I have to take without delay." Of course, she gave her assent with a smile. He breathed a kiss on her knuckles as a show of good manners and followed Brooks into a secure conference room. Before its door even closed he noticed the human men crowding around Nadja out of the corner of his eye.

The screen of the telecom unit showed no image although the on light blinked.

"Jane-in-the-Box verified the source and secured the connection. Audio only." Dunkelzahn nodded and Brooks retreated to allow for privacy.

"Ryanthusar?" Dunkelzahn asked while he sat down.

"Master, I need to report. I believe that Aztechnology has found a locus."

Dunkelzahn closed his eyes. No, it is too soon.

"Where are you?"

"San Marcos, forty kilometres beyond the CAS border, south of Austin."

"That is a probable crosspoint," said Dunkelzahn. "What does the object look like?"

With sparse words, his agent gave him the description of a geometrically-shaped, smooth obsidian rock that seemed to absorb the light. Then he moved on to the heavy security and the work teams who worked under the surface of the lake to dig the artefact out. Dunkelzahn's nails scratched over the polished table top while he flexed his hand to release tension. He wished for his claws to shred the wood. His voice, though, remained even.

"Take a quick glance at the aura of the rock, Ryan. Tell me what you see."

Ryan's sharp intake of breath told him much.

"The rock glows in dark indigo, master, and on the surface I can see a network of golden lines. I believe them to be made of orichalcum. But it must an awesome mass if they go through the whole rock like this, master. The lines pulse like a slow heartbeat."

Dunkelzahn could now see the locus before his inner eye. Memories of an earlier age helped him to watch the excavation as if he was standing in Ryan's place. He was honest enough to himself to admit that he was afraid.

I had thought that we, I, still had time, at least a few years. But time has run out. I have no choice.

"Ryan, return immediately and..." He broke off as the speaker transmitted the loud boom of an explosion. For a few long moments only static followed. The sudden fear that his greatest asset in all his contingency plans had been discovered and eliminated engulfed him - and then abated as Ryan's breathless voice reported.

"Master, the site is under attack. The locus... missiles ... damaged... Magical..." The connection broke down in static. Then Jane-in-the-box's image appeared on the display.

"Sir, the line to QuickSilver got jammed. I can't re-connect."

"Brooks," he called, "coordinate our resources with the CIA and military intelligence. I need to know what is happening in San Marco. Immediately."

***

From one moment to the next the night sky lit up and a massive explosion sent tremors through the tower. Ryan Mercury tightened his grip on the ladder of the old watchtower and tried to spot the source. Several more explosions shook the night. Water and mud fountains burst from the shallow water of the lake. Shrapnel rained onto the workers on land, decimating them. A patrolling helicopter dropped from the sky in flames.

"Master, the site is under attack," he reported tensely. Static came from his small wristphone. He didn't know if his words were still being transmitted. Down by the lake the security forces had gone on alert the minute the explosion had hit. Before they could even identify their attackers, even more rockets found their victims. Small drones appeared and opened fire on the foot troops. Still, the Jaguar Guards were well trained; they dived for cover and returned the fire. It wouldn't take long until they got support from the heavier units stationed at the teocalli.

But the unknown attackers didn't let that stop them, and now threw magic into combat. A wave of spells rained destruction down. Too many came too fast to identify them individually although he didn't doubt their deadliness. Mercury's skin prickled from their power. Spirits of all kinds followed this first wave. Mercury saw two of them literally tearing a mage apart who had projected himself into the astral space.

Hastily he let go of his astral perception. Too much was happening on the astral plane to see details and the spirits might target him too if he continued to do so. On the physical plane, things were heating up too. The bombardment hadn't lessened and was still concentrated on the immediate area around the locus. As far as he was away from the lake he could still see the gigantic obsidian rock tremble and then it seemed to start to tilt and slide away to one side, deeper into the lake.

He put his wrist to his mouth and just hoped the phone connection was still up. There was no answer to his hasty report. Dunkelzahn's last words had ordered him to retreat. Mercury was only too glad to follow his master's command. He was too close to the action and both of the fighting sides would believe him to be the enemy.

***

She was alone on a vast rock plateau. There was nothing else but the song. Never before had she experienced something that beautiful, never even believed it possible. The song flowed over her like pure light, warming her, and making her bones hum in happy resonance.

She spread her arms. She wanted the song to fill her with its beauty, to make her beautiful too. But in her deepest insides a dark spot persisted and then began to spread. It froze her bones and flesh. Suddenly brittle, her bones twisted the song into dissonance; it made her scream in pain. The pain spiraled her down into darkness and then she writhed on the cold stone of the altar.

"Welcome back, Lucero."

Lucero opened her eyes. Señor Oscuro stood before the altar, a smile on his bearded face.

"I was right. You are the one who can withstand Thayla's song."

Around them the chanting of the ritual circle slowly quieted. Señor Oscuro helped her from the altar, heedless of the half-dried human blood that still covered her body. Lucero shook as she remembered the purpose that had brought her here.

"You have passed the test, Lucero," the man soothed. "You won't be sacrificed."

Lucero awoke with her arms flailing around as if she could push Señor Oscuro's hands aside. For long moments she panted, not recognizing the moon-lit quarters she had been assigned after her test. Then dream and reality separated. Cold, sticky sweat covered her. She rose and found her way to the small bath room. Its lights turned on automatically as the sensors registered her presence. She squinted against the sudden glare and turned the shower on. As the water poured over her she closed her eyes. She didn't want to catch her reflection in the mirrored wall. She knew each of the runic scars that covered her body. The leftovers from years of blood magic. For a long time she had taken pride in them. They were the willingly paid price for the power she had wielded.

Now the scars were just ugly and a reminder of her weakened magic.

There was no place for weakness in the ritual circle. A few months ago, blood loss and the backlash of her spells had harmed her irrevocably and fated her to be a blood sacrifice herself. Too many initiated mages were waiting to take her place. Only the fact that she had passed that test delayed her death. For now, Señor Oscuro found her still useful.

Lucero slipped into a white robe and felt marginally better, cleaner. Barefoot, she padded across the hardwood floor to the wall. At a touch of her hand the floor-length door glided to the side. She entered the open balcony on the side of the teocalli. The stone under her bare feet retained the heat of the day, and despite the late hour the August night had not brought any respite from the heat. She could see the lake and the lights of the relentlessly working excavation teams. From this distance, none of the noise surrounding the dig reached her. Beyond the lake, the old tower's dark silhouette stabbed into the sky.

The object of all that activity, she knew, was an artefact of great magical potential. Since she became aware of it she had felt its lure, the implied promise that she could regain her lost power if she only got access to it.

She gave in to her longing and switched her perception to the astral space. The night lit up with the many vibrant auras of life. But everything paled beside the powerful aura of the excavated locus. The beauty of its pulsing, golden veins took her breath away. For long moments she could only stare and drink in the awe-inspiring impression.

With alarming clarity, it reminded her of the even brighter beauty she had experienced on the metaplanes, the purifying beauty of Thayla's song. She wanted to hear that song again, to bathe in that light. The longing was so strong that tears came to her eyes.

Señor Oscuro will use me to destroy that beauty!

But it didn't matter, at least not enough; she wanted to be back, she wanted to hear Thayla's song.

A loud boom shattered the relative silence of the night, followed by more detonations. The aura of the locus wavered and made Lucero recoil in sudden fright. Several small lights of people's auras winked out of existence. Then the noises of rocket missiles and the answering bellows of guns became muted as the astral space seemed to catch fire. Countless spells flashed with the speed of thought in the direction of the excavation site. Lucero cried out as she recognized them as harmful combat spells. As if this wasn't dismaying enough, a swarm of spirits appeared and started to attack the mages and shamans at the site.

While she still stood shell-shocked, frantically searching for a way to offer her remaining magic to the defense, a silent shadow dropped beside her onto the balcony. With a cry, she backed into her rooms. She fumbled to cast a defense spell as a powerful punch against her back sent her sprawling to the floor. She doubled over in agony. More intruders had waited inside. With a roar a blood spirit appeared over her, obviously one commanded to guard her life. One, no, two intruders drew swords and met its attack. They showed no sign that its aura of fear affected them. A third, the one from the balcony, stood over her, his own sword half-drawn.

"No blood!" snapped one of the men dodging the spirit's attacks.

Her adversary released the hilt of the sword and brought his stiff hand down into a slashing arc against her throat. Lucero tasted blood and couldn't draw breath anymore. The last thing she saw was the men defeating the blood spirit.

***

Mercury removed the hook from the rusty ladder and started to climb down. The series of explosions continued. He shot a quick glance at the lake. The locus sunk deeper into the lake's ground. He couldn't see if or how much the *locus* was damaged. During some of the explosion flashes he could see shadows in groups of three or four who made a stealthy approach to the Aztechnology Defence positions.

A rung broke under his weight and the clangs of it hitting the ladder several times while falling down sounded far too loud despite the combat noises. He froze for a moment and then continued.

A small flotilla of armored helicopters arrived from the teocalli. They were firing rockets of their own into the hellish melee and made strafing runs at the grounds where the mysterious attackers were advancing. Some of the missiles' launching sites fell silent, although combat drones were still arriving in terrifying numbers and mindlessly pitting themselves against the drones sent by the Aztechnology forces.

Some of the helicopters started to sweep the area with search lights trying to find the enemy footsoldiers. A few times they opened fire at the ground, obviously trying to gun someone down. Mercury didn't spare the time to see if the barrages did more than throw up sand. He continued to climb.

Several detonations shook the foot of the hill where the tower stood, almost at the same time. The tower swayed. Mercury put his feet on the sides of the ladder and started to slide down. It was a controlled fall of nearly one hundred meters, faster and faster. The friction heat on his palms reached pain levels but the tower's swaying hadn't stopped. More detonations – Mercury realized that these could not have been caused by rockets, the explosives must have been planted before – and the whole hill with the tower on it was in motion and sliding towards the lake. Before the landslide reached the water, the tower tipped over. Mercury leapt into the void, just hoping that he would land on a tree or shrubs to break his fall.

He was both unlucky and lucky. The searchlights of a helicopter caught him. A hastily fired missile missed him. But it hit the tower full on, and iron and concrete fragments burst in every direction. He cried out as he was hit by several of them. His jump became an uncontrolled plunge. But he did indeed land on a tree.

The upper foliage buffered his impact, then he fell from branch to branch. Somehow he managed to cover his head and his face with his arms while falling but his limbs took painful hits on his way down. The impact on the ground drove the air from his lungs.

Mercury hardly took the time to draw a breath before calling on his magic to suppress the pain. He had to move. The hill ground was still sliding. He jumped to his feet and fell into a stumbling trot down the slope, away from the lake and the raging battle. His hands checked for injuries and which of his equipment was still left to him. The holster with his Walther PB 120 and the belt with his darts had survived. Some shards had pierced his only lightly armored night suit whose purpose had been stealth rather than protection anyway. The wounds were bleeding. This wasn't much of a cause for worry in itself, but together with the other punishment his body had suffered in the last minutes his physical reserves were running low. Without his magic he would be in serious trouble. He hoped that he had also a bit of luck left. Without being detected, he needed to reach his car that he had left at a good mile's distance from his position.

He kept to the shadows of the trees. But there weren't enough of them to keep him covered all the time and the helicopter was aready cirling over his position. The missile impacts and fires might hide his heat signature to the helicopter's sensors but it probably wouldn't last.

A red shine with sharp, long shadows flooded the battle field. The teocalli itself had now become a target of the attack. Several levels of the gigantic building were already on fire. Especially the top platform was being hit by more rockets. Mercury didn't waste any more thoughts on the Azzies' plight. The light made it harder for him to hide among the sparse vegetation.

Suddenly, the helicopter peppered his surroundings with rail gun fire but Mercury managed to reach a thicker patch of trees. Then the helicopter touched down to release a group of soldiers who fanned out in his direction. Hunting.

Mercury risked a quick glance into the astral and found the ghostly likeness of a robed man hovering above the tree line. The helicopter crew had brought a mage, and he was astrally projecting to find their quarry. Mercury wanted to curse. But in that very instance a spirit flashed near and attacked the glowing figure, mage and spirit bound up in the deadly dance of astral combat. Mercury heaved a silent breath of relief. At least for a time he wouldn't have to worry about the mage. But there was still the cat-and-mouse game between the other Aztechnology soldiers and him. They were many and he was only one, and wounded at that. But while they lumbered through the underbrush, he could move as silently as a shadow. He would need that advantage because his chances of escaping on foot and actually getting away from this place were slim. His wounds were slowing him down to much.

So instead he readied a dart and circled back. Maybe he could use the helicopter for escape. At least they wouldn't expect this move.

He came close enough to see a rigger-pilot and the slumped form of a man he took to be the mage. Whether he was still in astral space or already dead he couldn't say. To be certain, the mage had to be his first target before he could even attempt to subdue the pilot. But before Mercury could put his plan into action, a rocket seemed to appear out of thin air and thundered into the aircraft. For a few moments Mercury could see the rigger writhing in the fireball before burning to ash.

He didn't know what prickle of sensation warned him. Whirling around and drawing his pistol in a quick move was one move. He fired twice at the hulking mass of a man bearing down on him. None of the shots had any visible effect.

The man looked mostly human but the proportions of his head, torso and limbs were skewed. And he was fast, almost as fast as Mercury who barely managed to avoid being overrun. This enemy was heavily cybered. A quick glance at his aura confirmed his guess. He had never before seen someone who appeared almost like a shadow in his astral perception, his outline illuminated by a firework of bespellments. This one was indeed far more machine than man, kept alive by powerful magic. Mercury had heard about such creatures – they were aptly called cyberzombies.

The man bared his teeth in a vicious grin at Mercury. Almost leisurely but still far quicker than an ordinary man he once again closed the distance between Mercury and himself. Although he had an arsenal of weapons hanging from his belt he didn't bother with them.

He knows, thought Mercury, that I can't escape him.

Nonetheless he loosened a volley of throwing darts at the cyberzombie. Maybe the paralysing toxin would slow him down. But the hulking creature simply batted most of them away, and those few that hit he didn't seem to feel at all.

More men appeared in the clearing. For a moment Mercury feared that the rest of the soldier group had arrived. But these ones didn't wear the tan uniform of the Jaguar Guards. They wore black, their swords drawn and their faces masked – must be the mysterious attackers.

One of them, dropping an empty rocket launcher, snarled in disgust: "Abomination!" As one man, they attacked the cyberzombie.

Mercury fell back, glad to be ignored for now. The fight didn't last long. He would have believed that the cyberzombie would easily dispatch just three opponents armed with only small arms but the ninjas proved him wrong.

They matched the cyberzombie in speed and worked as a unit. Whenever the cyberzombie focused on one, the other two moved in. Their shuriken seemed to have a far more potent toxin than Mercury's because after only two hits from the throwing stars the cyberzombie's movements became uncoordinated. After that, the end came fast. They literally cut the cyberzombie to pieces. One picked up the severed head and threw it away into the darkness.

Then they turned to Mercury. He backed away, feeling the blood loss keenly. He showed them his empty hands.

"I'm not your enemy," he told them.

For a few moments they seemed to consider it but then someone said softly: "The demon doesn't need witnesses."

It was the signal for the three to spread out and surround him. Mercury wanted to curse. In his weakened state his chances were slim against these skilled opponents. Nonetheless, giving up was not an option.

Veering sharply to the right, he tried to break through the circle. He needed to put distance between him and them for an escape. But the man to his right met his frenzied attack and didn't give ground. A fraction of a second later the other two engaged him and then all he could do was to dodge blades and darts. It couldn't last.

A dart pierced his right shoulder and he felt coldness spreading from the small wound. He stumbled in surprise and then tried to continue dodging his adversaries' attacks. They changed tactics immediately. Instead of pressing the attack they just darted forward in turns and kept him off balance. Mercury tried to call on his inherent magic to neutralize the poison. But exhausted as he was, all he could do was to slow its spreading down. His limbs went numb and heavy. He never felt it when he hit the ground.

***

A few of the trid screens in Dunkelzahn's lair were displaying satellite photos of San Marco. A clearly marked area looked like the aftermath of a war. As far as his own and the government's experts could tell, that was exactly what it was. The giant San Marcos *teocalli* was a smoking ruin, the old amusement park was burnt and riddled by shell craters. Mud slides seemed to have partly filled up the lake.

Air elementals sent to scout the place brought back disturbing reports. The astral space there reflected the destruction. None of them could get clear impressions of what had happened. Too much magical energy in a short time had created something like static, a smokescreen of spent spells. Just one thing was clear. The magical battle there had been even fiercer than the conventional attack.

Dunkelzahn rarely flicked a glance at the screens. For a casual observer he might seem relaxed but his staff could read him well enough to give him a wide berth. A brooding dragon was best not disturbed.

He had retreated to his estate on Prince Edward Isle. The rebuilding in the White House had already begun but was far from finished. He didn't intend to spend more time than necessary in human shape. His lair here accommodated his natural size.

Already the Aztlan government had directed vague accusations at him and the UCAS. Although no one took that all too seriously. The general term used was 'terrorist attack'. The rebels of Yucatan had spoken of a great victory against the corrupt Aztechnology corporation but such a strike was plainly beyond their abilities. They would have directed it at a target that made more sense, anyway.

The problem was that this site was only of any importance to a few who might have an inkling of what had been hidden there. And none of those who would oppose Aztech acquiring the *locus* would have used such brutal, blatant, no-holds-barred approach.

As far as I know. Dunkelzahn half-rose and stretched to his full length. Either I seriously miscalculated one of the known parties – and I don't believe that - or there is someone new who has intervened in the conflict.

The chime of the door interrupted the quietness of the great chamber. It was Brooks who brought the scheduled update. Dunkelzahn regarded her balefully. It wasn't her fault but the dealing with this crisis for the last few days coupled with the lack of reliable intelligence had been doing bad things to his temper.

Is there anything new in your report, Brooks? A hint of his irritation crept into his mental voice and the elf stiffened. But she was too much of a professional to back away.

"No, sir, nothing of substance. The specialists are trying to profile likely candidates. But they are drawing blanks. It just doesn't add up. Jane-in-the-Box tried a few data runs against Aztechnology but they have either closed down their systems or are on high alert. McFadden wishes to try anew to find QuickSilver by ritual magic, sir."

Ryan Mercury hadn't reported in and Dunkelzahn found it worrisome. Chances were that he had become collateral damage of the strike just when he needed his best agent more than ever. His plans were unraveling through this new development and he didn't like it.

See to it, Brooks. I need to...

Brooks' hand flew to her ear where the ear knob of her tactical computer rested. Her eyes widened.

"Master, we have contact. QuickSilver is at a small private clinic in ... Las Vegas? How did he get there?"

Dunkelzahn felt a wholly unfamiliar rush of relief.

Bring him home, Brooks. Now!

"Yes, sir." She sprinted from his chamber, all the while excitedly muttering orders that her headware transmitted to her people.

Shadows of the Past (Batman Begins AU/ Shadowrun crossover)

2008-01-12T19:47:58Z

Fandom: Batman Begins AU/Shadowrun crossover
Prompt: 085. Missing
Wordcount: 4146
Beta: by temve

Shadows of the Past

The vast floor-to-ceiling glass window allowed Bruce Wayne a spectacular view of Gotham. The evening sun threw long shadows over the cityscape. With half an ear he listened to the news trid reporting about the last hours of the elections. Nothing was yet decided. Dunkelzahn and his main rivals were extremely close in the polls.

The world has so much changed since the Awakening. Magic has returned, we have had to get used to metahumans and paracritters. Technology has blurred the line between men and machine. He glanced at the trid screen where the report cut to Dunkelzahn's speech. Dragons run for presidency. Sometimes it feels too strange. I belong too much to the old world of my youth. And at other times it feels the same, Gotham with its glittering outside, corporate and political battles hidden behind smiles, afflicted by barely restrained corruption and crimes inside.

Someone knocked at the door and then entered without waiting for an invitation. Wayne was expecting him. Gordon, his head of security, was a lean man in his forties and born into this new, the Sixth World where one needed either magic or technology to gain an edge. The datajack at his temple and the inhumanly smooth movements betrayed that he had boosted his natural abilities with cyberware. Although the characteristics Wayne valued him most for were his loyalty and efficiency.

***

"It is missing, Gordon."

"Yes, sir, we were able to verify that the box was transferred with the others from Wayne Manor to the warehouse of Gotham Storage and Logistics. Our records prove this. The hardcopy of the shipping manifest and the gap in the box numbering have also convinced GS&L even though their electronic records don't show this item and their deckers could not find any trace of a data manipulation.

"GS&L offers their deepest apologies and immediate compensation as soon as we let them know the value of the content."

Bruce Wayne frowned at his head of security. Gordon knew his boss well enough that it was in thought and not in displeasure. It didn't serve to lessen his tension. The contents of those boxes had been private, even he didn't know their contents in detail.

"It was a keepsake, Gordon. It had no actual monetary worth."

He stood up and slowly paced the length of his office. A bad sign, Gordon knew. This wasn't a small matter any more.

"But it wasn't accidentally misplaced, it was stolen. Who would target such an item? This item. And why?"

Gordon offered a theory. "Possibly for ritual magic then, sir?" It was a slim chance, usually such a magical attack needed an actual body tissue to work. Nonetheless he made a mental note to strengthen the magical security, he wasn't taking any chances.

"That makes the question of whodunnit even more important, doesn't it?" Wayne's grin was humourless. "I'm not interested in settling a claim. GS&L need to give us full access to their system for an investigation. Put your best men to the case. I need answers."

***

A trio of human men awaited them. Kim Larsson identified the one in the middle as the CEO of GS&L. He looked nervous, eyes flickering between him and his colleague. Two men flanked the CEO, the grim-faced head of security and an emaciated man in a rumpled suit. On the latter's face the corporate smile slipped repeatedly to make way for worry and resentment in turn. By his out-of-place look and the gleaming datajack in his temple he was probably a security decker, dragged from his familiar booth by this emergency.

Dan Burke, his colleague from Internal Investigations, accompanied Larsson. Burke was an orc with an unflappable temper. Larsson was glad to have his reassuring bulk at his side. Especially in those situations when he was uncertain of the required etiquette and manners. He hated being regarded as socially inept but such skills did not come easily to him. He always needed to pay careful attention to social rituals such as appropriate greetings to avoid embarrassing or, worse, offending slip-ups.

After a few awkward moments the formal greeting seemed to give the CEO a grounding and he slid into the familiar routine by introducing the two other men. No surprises here, Larsson had already read their files from their database.

Burke took over the introductory talk, listing the locations and systems they might need access to. Larsson didn't need his main focus there anymore; instead, he mentally reviewed the known facts of the ongoing investigation and the disturbing lack of evidence.

They knew there had been a repelled shadowrun about two weeks ago. It didn't come anywhere near the high security storage rooms where Wayne's boxes were kept, but the current theory was that it had been a staged distraction for a far more covert run.

Conventional or magical forensics had turned up nothing at all. That was not surprising if the assumption about the time was right. Professionals hardly ever left any traces. After two weeks even those would be unidentifiable.

But cyberspace didn't have such a decay time. A clue left there might still be available; although the matrix investigation had also come up negative so far. But because Wayne's own records and all hardcopy seemed untampered with, all evidence appeared to point to a highly expert matrix run in GS&L's own system. No wonder that the security man and the decker looked that grim: it didn't give a favourable impression of their departments when such a run wasn't noticed at all, not even after the fact.

***

They had been given full access to all of GS&L's systems, of course. As with many other medium-sized businesses in Gotham, Wayne Industries was, through various investment and shell companies, a major shareholder.

Larsson had requested to use the same jackpoint from which the previous matrix investigation had taken place. With disdain he looked at the workplaces of the GS&L deckers. Small cubicles, six foot square, lined a narrow corridor in a bland office space. To make it worse, the one he was shown into was cluttered with empty paper cups and pizza cartons. This was so like a bad caricature of the decker cliché that it wasn't funny any more. How anyone who lived for the perfect simulacrum of the matrix could be so messy was beyond him. Fortunately at least the chair appeared reasonably clean.

He connected his cyberdeck to the matrix port and reluctantly sat down - only to suppress a wince immediately. GS&L obviously cut costs when providing their employees with office furniture. He would get backaches for certain if he stayed for more than half an hour. Longingly, he thought back to his couch in the comfortable working lounge he shared with a few colleagues. But a job was a job. Hopefully he would be done before his back took too much harm.

As always he enjoyed the abrupt change from the meat world to cyberspace. This was the world he understood and ruled. One glance around was enough to orient himself. GS&L's sculpted reality was ergonomical and economical. In Larsson's not so humble opinion it was also simplistic and unimaginative.

Little, rough pixeled manikins pushed boxes around a grid, busily storing those data files in their intended locations. Different colours marked them as belonging to different departments. There were also one-way passages representing access controls and floating mines that were obviously IC programs monitoring the system. At times, colourful balls with gaping mouths bounced around – the users of the system.

It reminded him of the computer's stone age. Then, the technical possibilities had been restricted. Now? Simplistic, he sighed. And ugly.

The glass sphere that represented his persona in the matrix rolled along the blinking lines that led to the different departments of the logistics and storage firm. Because he had been given unrestricted access, the ICs didn't bother him. The first routine check confirmed GS&L's results: nothing seemed out of place.

It was time to dig deeper. This doesn't need to be a fast job, he reminded himself, just a thorough one.

In the meat world his fingers flitted across the keys. In the electron world the glass sphere sweated drops of quicksilver that rolled like silvery pearls over the floor to the little transport boxes where they seeped into the cracks and vanished. Larsson waited patiently what his search programs might find.

For a long time there was nothing. The quicksilver drops reappeared one after another - showing no results - only to vanish into the next cracks. They had checked almost all the little boxes in this department and Larsson was beginning to suspect that there wouldn't be anything more to find here when suddenly they coalesced into a puddle and covered a certain datafile.

Larsson grinned. An anomaly, finally. He called up his analyzing tool and pointed it at the singled out box. At first the anomaly didn't look to be more than the remains of a correction. Someone had edited a wrong input. But as his tool went deeper and deeper through the code a trace was uncovered. Like a puzzle it led to other files and from there to other ones still. It must have been a strangely complicated method to hide an illegal modification. But the unusual and completely unobtrusive pattern the enemy decker had left had been not recognized by the Intrusion Countermeasures and the deckers of GS&L. Larsson grew excited as he started to follow the trail. He could probably trace the way the break-in had taken, maybe even right back to its source.

So intent was he in following the faint traces that he was taken by surprise as the trail looped back to meet itself and then suddenly took shape. Like a lasso or a giant snake, it caught him in its coils. A trap! An intense pressure built up around his persona that threatened to squash him. Immediately he activated his defenses and the coils slid loose on the curves of the slick glass sphere. But nonetheless, they whirled him around and around until his surroundings blurred beyond recognition.

When he came to a halt again, he was somewhere else.

***

Cold. It was freezing cold. Instinctively he took a step back and paused. A step? He looked down at himself. His persona had changed. The reflecting sphere was gone, he now appeared as a man packed in thick layers of worn clothes with scarf and gloves that were not enough to keep the cold from creeping into him.

He tried to revert to his own persona but the change persisted. That was worrisome. The sculpted reality of this system node should not be able to override his Master Persona Control Program. Only UV hosts could do that and he didn't want to contemplate the implications if he was really caught in one. In search of a clue, he looked around.

He stood at the foot of a majestic mountain on a stony trail that wound through a vaguely Asiatic-looking village consisting of a few modest houses with curved roofs and some wooden huts. He had no idea if there were actually people who lived this backward or if it was entirely a product of the system designer's fantasy. The huts looked as if they would fall apart in a winter storm. People of different ages scurried around. If this was built like a traditional system these must be data packages or utilities. He moved to intercept one of them but those closest to him shot him furtive glances and retreated into the huts. The doors slammed shut, bolts were drawn.

He rubbed his hands together, partly in frustration, partly to get them warm again. Again he tried to access any of his deck's utilities. But all that materialized was an old Swiss army knife with broken blades. Not good.

He started wandering around; the village was tiny. But whichever direction he turned, the streets emptied before him. Then he stood at the edge of the settlement, the trail led up the mountain. Halfway up there was an abandoned-looking castle built from stone and dark wood. Before him intensely blue flowers grew between the stones. He bowed down and plucked one of them to take a closer look. The stem and the leaves were hard and bristly even through the glove. The sensory detail was extraordinary. Whoever designed this had been a master. Not to forget the computer power it took to sustain such a system at this detailed level.

"Turn back!"

He wheeled around and found a wizened old man staring at him.

"Turn back," the old man repeated. He pointed to the fortress. "There are tzelanit there." Then he turned and also vanished in one of the houses.

The decker looked at the motley collection of modest houses and huts and then up at the forbidding building above. "I have no idea what a tzelanit is but down here I won't find any answers."

The way up looked fairly easy from below but the wind picked up and drove snow like tiny shards into his face. The trail was covered in sleet and sometimes he crawled on hands and knees over slippery spots. His hands and feet were numb from the cold. He persisted by distracting himself with the calculation of just what kind of system resources someone would need to duplicate this.

Finally he stood before the heavy, wooden gates. After the warning from the old man he was wary to enter by the obvious way. He walked the length of the wall looking for a backdoor, either one more or less obvious or one that was hidden in the code. He desperately wished for his analysing tools, but as before he couldn't access them. His hands felt for the tell-tale lines of a hidden door but he found nothing. The fortress leaned against the rock of the mountain. When he craned his neck he could see small openings, arrow slits, if he remembered it right from the historical sims.

The gaps between the stones looked wide enough to hold. He dug his frozen fingers and the tips of his boots into the cracks and pulled himself up. But for the first time the simulated world broke its 'realism'; the gaps vanished, forcing his fingers out and he slid back down. He muttered a few curses under his breath and tried again in a different place, then another. Always with the same result. Obviously this wasn't the right way in.

"I feel like I'm in a fragging roleplaying sim."

Full of unease he stared at the gates. Their carvings were almost covered by ice and snow but he believed them to be demonic faces that tauntingly grinned at him. Finally he raised a fist and pounded on the wood a few times. It echoed ominously. The gates swung open.

A gust of warm air shot out and enveloped him with the smell of incense and the heavy dust he associated with old ruins. Carefully he took a few steps forward. Behind the gates waited almost-darkness that betrayed nothing of what lay behind them.

He waited a few more breaths, then stepped forward.

The darkness gave way to a hall lit by torches and ornate braziers. The low ceiling added to the feeling of oppressiveness. But the warmth was a welcome change from the iciness outside. He pulled the scarf away from his face. With some effort he pulled the gloves from his fingers.

He had moved just a few steps deeper into the hall as the gates fell shut. He jumped, then gathered his composure. "Fragging sound effects." His whispered words were far too loud.

"This is not a game." The disembodied voice resounded from a raised platform at the end of the hall. Try as he might, the decker couldn't make out more than a shadowy shape on a throne-like chair.

Something tugged at his sash. The blue flower slipped from its folds and rose into the air. It hung in the centre of the hall, perfect and glowing with an inner light.

"Have you come to dedicate yourself to the eradication of injustice and evil? Have you come to leave your old life behind and vanquish your fear?"

"What?" he stammered. It had to be a password protection of some kind but he had no idea what the voice was talking about.

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Ready... I just arrived... I can't..."

"You can't?" The voice turned threatening. "Evil does not wait for you to ready. Evil is not fair or considerate."

"If you are not ready now, you will be destroyed."

From the four corners of the hall shadows coalesced into black-clad, masked warriors who drew swords. He retreated but they drew the circle closer. Desperately he tried to activate some of his defense programs but they didn't even shimmer into existence. All he had was the Swiss army knife and that was close to useless. A sword arced toward his head. Somehow he managed to dodge. He tried to jack out. But even that didn't work. Despair turned into hysteria as a sword sliced his arm open. The pain burnt like fire through his body. He imagined his flesh body lying dying over his deck as another blade bit into his side. He stumbled and fell onto his side. The warriors raised their swords for the killing stroke as everything went gray-black.

***

He returned to consciousness shaking. The nerves in his arm and his side hurt from phantom-pain. A growing headache made him see double. Dumpshock, he noted dimly. Can't remember when I had this the last time.

He recognized Burke standing over him. The orc held his datacable in his hand. At his side the GS&L decker was wringing his hands.

Larsson managed a smile and croaked, "Well, that was interesting."

The investigator smiled in relief. "It looked liked your brain was about to cook when I pulled the jack out. You found something then?"

"Yes, and thank you. The rescue came in the nano-nick of time."

***

A medic checked Larsson over while the Ares Dragon carried him back to Wayne Tower. He rejected the offered stim tabs and opted for a strong coffee instead.

On arrival he was hustled straight to the executive suite. Obviously news of his accident had preceded him. He felt only faint surprise as he was shown into the presence not only of Gordon but also the Old Man himself. The previous events had dulled him against unusual happenings today. Still, he bowed out of reflex. Wayne dipped his head in response. Gordon's expression was dead serious.

"Mister Larsson, Investigator Burke's preliminary report indicated that there was a serious incident in the GS&L matrix," said the head of security. "Please give us a verbal summary first."

"Yes, sirs. Whoever broke into GS&L's records was a prime decker. He covered up his tracks nearly perfectly but intentionally left a hint that could only discovered upon closest analysis. It turned out to be the bait for a trap."

"To attack the decker who discovered the hint: you."

"Not directly, sir. The trap displaced me into another host."

"I didn't know that this was possible," Wayne said.

"It isn't, sir. Or rather, it shouldn't be possible under normal circumstances or happen to a skilled decker with the equipment I had available.

"But it did, and I could not access my programs. The metaphors used to sculpt that host's reality were rather peculiar and extremely naturalistic. I got the impression that the symbolism had a certain meaning and that I was being given hints. But I don't know what about."

"Describe the symbolism, please."

Larsson heeded the request. He tried to find the right words to describe the intensity of the experience. He didn't know if his listeners, who never entered the matrix, realized how extraordinary the details and circumstances had been.

Maybe one of them did - because Wayne's expression turned thoughtful and then grew impassive. Gordon's mien remained unreadable. When he got to the unseen voice in the fortress and its words, Wayne tensed and then interrupted his report.

"Thank you, Mr. Larsson, I think that's enough for now.

"Please deliver your report directly to Mr. Gordon. Include as much detail as you can recall."

Larsson was almost indignant; he was the one with the mnemonic enhancer. His ability to remember far surpassed the combined memories of those before him. But they were his superiors and they were right to be worried.

As Gordon escorted him out of the office and gave him detailed orders, the greater part of mental capacities was intrigued by the possibilities of those odd events and his bosses' reaction to them. There was not enough data to solve this riddle but one thing was certain.

Someone had wanted to send a message and this message had hit home.

***

Bruce closed the door of his private study. Although by far smaller than his office, it provided him access to all amenities his work might require. Still more important, it allowed him complete privacy and a place to be undisturbed.

Something he needed desperately right now.

It was strange how much the idea of crossing paths again with that man left him reeling. There were too many conflicting emotions. Surprise. Exhilaration. Dread. Joy?

He raised a hand and regarded the age spots on his leathery skin. He was extremely fit for a man of his age; a gift, he assumed, from their last meeting. But he had aged. Was he still fit enough to hold his own in a conflict with him?

I don't even know if it is really him, the cautious part of his mind whispered. But who else would know enough to do this? A successor in the League, perhaps. He hadn't been invulnerable.

Bruce hesitated. The thought didn't feel right to him but it was a possibility he couldn't dismiss. A successor might have access to all that information and believe that it could give him leverage over an old, rich and still influential man.

Whoever had started this game, he would deal with him. Age and experience always beat youth and beauty... And then he couldn't suppress a bitter laugh because this might just be the greatest irony ever.

But how to proceed? He could hardly let his security deal with this matter, nor Gotham's law enforcement. Not at this stage, with only a vague threat hanging in the air. It would require too many explanations. And that part of his past had better remain hidden.

Fortunately those days were not completely gone. It was time to talk to old friends.

He keyed a long number into his comm from memory. It took time to make the connection and then the display staid empty.

Tinny music came from the loudspeaker and an automated switchboard voice said: Please hold the line. The next available agent will be ready to take your call. Please hold the ... But Wayne didn't wait.

"There is a strong suspicion that the first entry on our watchlist has made a move to involve me. You will soon get the full report; try to find a trace. This is important."

Over the blabber of the telephone's hold pattern came a reply. "Has it got a higher priority than repelling Shiawase's takeover attempts of our biotech group?"

"No, but only because it will likely be a tedious search and take too much time."

"Consider it started, then."

"Thanks, Oracle, I owe you for this."

"You know how to show your appreciation, my prince." The title is spoken with humorous teasing.

***

The gray-haired woman pulled her datacable free and leaned back into her wheelchair. A fingernail tapped a sharp staccato on the case of her deck.

"Well," she addressed the old photos on the wall. "What did I expect? There hasn't been anything since this man and his organization appeared to vanish from the face of earth." Her smartframes permanently looked for data traces of everyone on the watchlist. But there had been no forewarning and there was also no sign of them right now.

"What now?" she asked the picture of her father. Sometimes she felt silly to speak aloud to them but it helped her to organize her thoughts.

Deception and secrecy are the main tools of the League of the Shadows, Wayne had emphasized in the file.

I won't find any trace of Râ's al Ghul then that he doesn't want to leave. With a sigh, she started to adapt the program code of the smartframes. They had to search for ripples his hidden actions might have caused, or the lack of ripples where some should be. 'Difficult' was an understatement.

Her hands stilled as a new thought took shape.

Why now, after more than forty years?

Foreshadowing (Batman Begins AU)

2007-12-31T23:53:48Z

Fandom: Batman Begins AU
Prompt: 076. Rebirth
Wordcount: 695
Beta: by temve

Foreshadowing - A Prologue

The first sensation when he opened his eyes was a biting smell that made him gag. He coughed up a greenish, stinking fluid. The same, he realized, that covered his skin from head to toe. He was naked - that was his second realization. It was warm. There was uneven rock under him and a few feet away he could see a small pond, shimmering a sick yellow-green in the dim light. Everything else was hidden in the damp fog. His mind worked far too sluggishly and he couldn't remember how he had ended up in this place.

Then adrenalin shot through him as his last memory returned to him. The hostage-taking on a friend's yacht. The terrorists who wanted to prove just how serious they were about it. The raised machine gun. The bullets he had no chance to dodge, sitting as he was in the wheelchair.

He flopped on his back and ran his hands over his chest. Smooth skin. No mark, no sign of a bullet wound. He hadn't dreamed that, had he? There were only a few fresh cuts and scrapes on his hands, and another memory rose as he looked at them, of him screaming as he crawled from the shallow pit, ranting and beating against shapeless shadows and the rock with his bare hands. Had this been real?

A door creaked. Steps approached. Bruce rolled onto his side and flattened himself to the ground. But the steps unerringly came to him.

"There is no need to hide, Bruce."

The voice was familiar. In shock, Bruce surged to his feet, only to stumble and to fall to his hands and knees in even greater shock.

"You!" and then "How?"

Ducard - no, he was Ra's al Ghul, Bruce needed to remember that - squatted down next to him.

"I have given you a gift only very few even know of. Rebirth, Bruce. And complete healing." He smiled at Bruce's incredulous stare. "The secret of my immortality, Bruce."

Bruce needed a few moments to get his bearings, to let his mind catch up with what it was being fed. The sensations swamped him. He could feel his kneecaps scrape on the rough ground. He could curl his toes. It should be impossible, but it wasn't. Finally he found his voice.

"Why? We are enemies, Ducard!" The familiar name slipped unbidden over his lips instead of the hateful Ra's al Ghul.

Ducard cocked his head thoughtfully. "Maybe because my world would be poorer without you. Maybe I enjoy it too much having an adversary who can keep me on my guard. Maybe I care for a certain young boy who needs his father. But mostly," and his voice took on a deadly seriousness, "because the world we know is about to change and I prefer to keep at least one familiar constant in it."

A chill swept through Bruce. "What are you planning? Another mass murder?" Possibilities, one worse than the other, flitted through his mind.

"I? I plan nothing but to wait and see. This great change has nothing to do with me. I don't even know what is coming, just that it is."

"You are speaking in riddles."

Ducard leaned forward, his demeanour even more intense than before.
"I have read the omens, Bruce, I have seen the signs. It is coming and it will be soon." He met Bruce's incredulous stare.

"I know that you don't believe in matters science can't explain - yet. But you will see. This change will affect everyone. I feel it in my bones."

He rose, indicating that their conversation was finished. "You will need to train your muscles before you will be able to walk again. But I can trust you to take care of those details. I have arranged for your return to Gotham, my boy. For the time being, farewell!"

With that he vanished into the fog. Bruce himself felt like in a daze, even as some men came to help him up and get ready for his journey.

He still brooded over Ducard's words for a long time after he returned home to the Gotham of the year 2010.

Intro: In Gotham's Shadow

2007-12-31T23:44:01Z

I had planned to participate in NaNoWriMo 2007 but Real Life was against me. I still have a lot of plot notes and parts of an outline from October.

I want to write the story. I will not aim at 50K in 30 days, maybe 500 a day is more realistic. I will post the story here in chapters or scenes as soon as I have finished them. I can't promise that they will be in order, we will see.

It's an Batman Begins AU that turns into a crossover with the Shadowrun RPG world whose canon timeline I will twist into an AU too, I believe. Prior knowledge of SR won't be necessary, I believe, to read this.

The tag for this is: In Gotham's Shadow.

Complication (Batman Begins drabble)

2007-05-02T21:48:45Z

Fandom: Batman Begins AU
Prompt: 029. Teammates
Wordcount: 100 without title
Beta: none

Complication

Bruce turned sharply when he heard the faint scuffle from the hallway. He hid the photocopies in his back-bag and ghosted to the door.

A dark-clad man crouched over an unmoving form. Bruce bit back a curse. The break-in had been too easy. They had become careless.

The other looked up. "He was patrolling..."

"And you let yourselves be seen?" The last word was a hiss of displeasure. The other shrank back. His distaste of unnecessary deaths was well-known. Bruce stared him down and considered contingency plans.

"Torch the place," he ordered his teammate. "Make it look like an accident."

Justitia's Sword (Batman Begins AU ficlet)

2007-05-01T21:46:15Z

Fandom: Batman Begins AU
Prompt: 089. She
Beta: none

Justitia's Sword

"Rachel? Rachel!" She jerked her gaze away fom the candles when his voice penetrated the daze she had fallen into. She looked at him and he could see the deep exhaustion.

"I'm sorry", she apologized. "Here I am having dinner with a wonderful man and all I can do is thinking about work."

"You had a trying day", he answered with a weak attempt at a pun. "But you won."

"No, I lost." Frustration etched sharp lines around her mouth. "Zsaz is only a thug. But we lost a vital witness and so Judge Faden didn't even deign to hear about the evidence of Falcone's involvement. Again.

"Falcone is doing what he wants and everyone covers it up." Her hands closed to white-knuckled fists on the white table cloth.

"Sometimes I wish I could break the rules too. To bring them to justice." She pressed her palm to her forehead. "Forget that I've said this, Henri. I shouldn't even think it."

He smiled in understanding and squeezed her hand in wordless comfort. Soon, he thought. She was almost there.

Goals for 2007

2007-01-01T00:48:35Z

2006 was a happy year for me, but not really productive regarding my writing. I was distracted. :) And I haven't coped with the change that being a parent brings. Usually I become productive after midnight, like now, when I am tired and my inner editor has already fallen asleep. Then I don't care anymore if I write crap and in most cases it doesn't turn out too bad or is rewritable. But my Little One is an early riser and if I don't go to bed until midnight the next day is hell. I haven't found a solution yet.

I forfeited the x-over ficathon and the slashromance challenge. I didn't write much for the au100 challenge but at least I wrote something for it. All five of the ficlets listed below. NaNoWriMo was a good effort but ultimately a failure. I did some conlanging and worldbuilding but it wasn't really post-worthy.

January:

Resolutions (Batman Begins AU, ficlet)
Surprise! (Batman Begins AU crack!ficlet)

March:

Heir (1/5) (Batman Begins AU drabble)
Heir (2/5) (Batman Begins AU drabble)

July:

Hot and Cold (Batman Begins AU, ficlet)

November:

NaNoWriMo - 23,882 words; dropped out

So what are my goals for 2007?

Getting back into habitually writing. Writing a minimum of 100 words at least 5 days a week.
Reviving the Sith AU.
Making at least a serious attempt at rewriting and expanding the 2YN novel.

NaNo progress 2006-11-20

2006-11-20T23:08:09Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 1,413
Total Count: 23,882
Writing time: 2h

Real Life intruding with bad news.

NaNo progress 2006-11-15

2006-11-15T22:02:18Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 1,025
Total Count: 19,550
Writing time: 3h

I'm not happy but I call it a day. It's like pulling teeth today.

NaNo progress 2006-11-14

2006-11-14T23:11:44Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 1,886
Total Count: 18,525
Writing time: 2h

I had problems to motivate myself and started late, at 10pm. Still 4,813 words behind.

NaNo rogress 2006-11-13

2006-11-13T23:05:22Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 3,015
Total Count: 16,639
Writing time: ca. 3h

I made the 3k for today with just a minute to spare. Still ~~6,380~~ 5,032 words behind the timetable.

NaNo progress 2006-11-12

2006-11-12T23:01:14Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 2,592
Total Count: 13,624
Writing time: 3h

If I can keep this pace I might finish the 50K in time. I feel some doubt, though. I am 6,380 words behind the timetable.

NaNo progress 2006-11-11

2006-11-12T16:24:36Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: none
Total Count: 11,032
Writing time: none

Computer crashed today and nothing I did made him boot up properly.

NaNo progress 2006-11-10

2006-11-10T22:02:16Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 2,599
Total Count: 11,032
Writing time: 3h

Wrote the beginning of a neat little subplot. I could visualize it better than the other scenes so far and it showed. Only 5,638 words behind the time table.

NaNo progress 2006-11-09

2006-11-10T13:26:15Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 190
Total Count: 8,433
Writing time: 10min

I have arrived late this evening at my parents for my mother's birthday tomorrow and some downtime (the Little One is still sick). Either the wordcount goes up because the proud grandparents are spoiling my Little One, or it goes down because I spent my time socializing.

Worse. Just before I left for the visit I got Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook delivered. It's the worst possible time to start worrying about depth and quality when I should just churn out the words.

NaNo progress 2006-11-08

2006-11-08T23:09:29Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 1,243
Total Count: 8,253
Writing time: 2.5h

This NaNoWriMo started too early for me. The plot didn't coalescence yet. Usually I work it through in my mind's eye until I see it as a kind of movie. There wasn't enough time for that. Now I am writing in the Plot, what plot? way and let things just occur. The advantage is that I get pleasant surprises like the walk-on character who mutated to a cross of Hodsha Nasreddin and James Bond. The downside is that I am constantly wrestling with my inner editor who is advising me to abandon this WiP.

NaNo progress 2006-11-07

2006-11-07T23:01:59Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 2,041
Total Count: 7,010
Writing time: 3h

NaNo progress 2006-11-05

2006-11-05T23:04:57Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 673
Total Count: 4,243
Writing time: 1h

My Little One is still sick. I took him to the doctor today with fever 40°. *sigh*
The wordcount is from after midnight. I didn't write at all this evening.

NaNo progress 2006-11-04

2006-11-05T01:01:57Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 458
Total Count: 3,570
Writing time: 1h

My Little One has fever. *sigh*

NaNo progress 2006-11-03

2006-11-03T23:04:37Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 833
Total Count: 3,112
Writing time: 2h

NaNo progress 2006-11-02

2006-11-02T23:26:27Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 1,524
Total Count: 2,279
Writing time: 3 1/2

It goes too slowly. I am falling behind. I will go on for another hour to finish at least 1,700 words for this night.

NaNo progress 2006-11-01

2006-11-01T23:10:16Z

Project: untitled so far
New Words: 755
Total Count: 755
Writing time: 1 1/4
Ranking: page 11/45 of the list of fantasy authors

A slow start. I blame the defect heating (repaired now, fortunately) and my inner editor, who didn't realize that he is supposed to be on vacation.

[poll] If I would participate in NaNoWriMo

2006-10-03T19:50:19Z

So people all over the world are signing up for this NaNoWriMo madness again. And I tell myself: Don't! Let it be! You have no time for that.

Suddenly ideas what I could write in November are stirring in the back of mind.

There is that unfinished SW AU I occasionally work on since 2000. There are only a handful of scenes written so far but I know what should happen in the sequel.

I could write the prequel to my last year's NaNo novel (the one from the 2YN course). It's about Anvar's backstory.

I have also enough hooks in the 2YN novel to write in that world somewhere else with different characters.

There is also a story idea for a Batman Begins AR that would probably work even better as a original fantasy story. It's set in early Arabia or Persia and I don't think that this setting has been used much yet. Or I am mistaken?

So, out of idle curiosity, which one appears most interesting to you?

View Poll: #836069

(231 word)