Sample for an Article on Magic and Technology in the Redwall World.
Written for Silver Garrison fans.

And the final battle of the Thunder Mountain began for true in the Lattice Chamber, Basilisk’s central elemental world. With so many of the entities gathered there and preserved within their glass shells upon separate pedestals, the guards were the fastest and the most aware within the horde, possessing weapons imbued with the strange elemental powers Basilisk had the power to grant, the power to entrap within the weapons of a select few.

The peculiar green gel which allowed this wielding of elemental weapons without the near immediate dissolution of the bearer into insanity was known as Antinoxen, and the effect of the elementals upon those ungifted with the ability to control the elementals was Noxen, a contraction of Nulla Voxen - "No Voice".

The fourth guard took a sip of the green, unpleasantly textured and bland fluid from his hip, flask. Nowhere could you find a guard who never looked forward to a good night in bed after a long shift, and here was another of those who succumbed to such desires. His eyes slowly slid closed, and he took a deep, satisfying yawn as he stretched, cracking his joints and feeling the life seep back into his deadened feet.

A pity, then, that his head was removed as he flexed his arms behind his torso.

The four stood serenely at the chamber door, the unnatural helical and toroidal carvings in the walls touching them in no way, now they knew what their job was and where their victim lay in wait. Rikard, the huge and aging bear in the body of a fox, glanced across to meet Rei’s eyes, and she nodded. His grandson Muff’in and the hare warrior Richard snared the exchange and turned towards the door, waiting their command.

And it was not long in coming, as Rei Swiftpaw, the first founder of the mighty Garrison, nodded grimly.

"Now."

Basilisk’s head snapped round at the massive crashing sound coming from the Lattice Chamber. The blubber hung loose from his jaw, unsightly in its flaccor. He heaved his aberrant bulk from the throne which had supported him for these last few months. Snapping a finger to the eaves, he continued to haul himself to the Lattice Chamber corridor, waiting for Angulis to appear.

And appear he did, holding himself not as if he were Basilisk’s subordinate but as though they were equals. And it was true that Angulis had a far greater degree of control over the elementals than the usual creature, but it was also true that he desired nothing more than equivalence to Basilisk, a fact the iguana frequently tested through the use of the Ithyr elementals he created.

Angulis understood the Perls, and he had made a move no other creature had ever before achieved. He had created a parasite set of Perls - or at least things which looked like them - and had distributed them across the world. One - the dark leech-stone - had found its way into the hands of a rat by the name of Sabreclaw. And this rat had quickly become the leader of a massive horde, so well did the leech-stone give the illusion of working for him.

But something had happened.

A massive dracine spirit from an age of the world long gone had taken all the power the leech-stone absorbed from those around it, and he had found the power to drive the owner of the dagger to a position of power when the spirit would be able to manifest itself fully, to bring an aeon of agony to the world under the domination of Falsa Doom.

So the world now owed a massive debt to Friar Porter of the Silver Garrison, the Cleric of Ever March…

Fire blazed in the Lattice Chamber - he could feel it from here, and the chances were that Basilisk could too. The forces were loose, there was a maelstrom… He glanced across at Basilisk, who nodded as he struggled with his cumbersome, flabby form. The ferret ran ahead to the side door and smashed through, the force of the earth elementals combining behind his shoulders to rip the doors from their hinges and send them flying into the whirling, grey mass in the centre of the room.

Instantly, the world consisted of great pain for Angulis Windforger. The conflicting currents from the four energies combining, reacting to one another… they were tearing every magical fibre from his body. Pain lanced first through his shoulder, where there had been so much force but a moment ago, and he gazed despairingly at the flesh as slowly, inexorably, with the speed and power of continental drift, it was stripped away.

The most deathly scream escaped his throat, the raw agony and eternity of pain apparent on his face, beseeching to the forms in the whirlwind of pure power to spare him, but slowly he disintegrated, every crashing sound in the room augmented by a sobbing; a petrified, pleading wail for every glass prison broken.

His shoulder was only bone now, all the layers of skin and muscle having been torn one by one from his well-built body and thrown into the glowing, lightning-filled centre of the room.

But then it all stopped.

Shrinking to the floor, gasping in pain and relief, tears coursing down his face, he scrambled away, holding the red-stained bone and ligament as far from the floor as was possible while almost running from something unknown, such a perturbation in nature…

And the great lizard Basilisk stood in the doorway, stood with his head held as high as could be and his arms outstretched. His mind was pouring into this, all his willpower being used to constrain the conflagration of the very fabric of being, all his psyche holding back this miniature Armageddon.

But another shape stood in the other corner of the Lattice Chamber - a wildcat, pushing the fires into further rage, forcing the flames into a higher state of perdition. There was a dagger strapped to her waist, fibrils extending from its pommel to her chest and disappearing within, wrapping so closely to her heart that the two were inseparable. She stood angered, fuelled by hatred for the place and principles it stood for, for the way in which this lizard had trapped the elements here, forced the joy of the world into containers for his own use.

Rei pushed with all the power of her mind, every scrap of potency she could muster forcing its way into her elemental manipulations, holding back the tides here and freeing them there. A shard of glass from one of the broken balls was embedded in her paw, yet still she took no notice as the sharp, jagged material tore away the sinew in her palm and left paralysis in its wake.
 
 

Markaris, the stoat, is about to confront his adversary. Having pulled up the courage over the past few days to stand up to the rat, he is now ready to bring about his attack verbatim as he has rehearsed it. Not only that, but our friend Markaris is a good actor, so he can disguise the fact that he’s as scared as hell and face up to the rat without looking like a total gu-tra (give up, then run away). The rat he is hoping to sort out is currently sitting with his back to him, warming himself by the fire. His form is perfectly silhouetted against the smouldering red of the dying flames, and Markaris approaches. His first words come out a little garbled, so he tries again.

"Why, Briseus? Why do you torment me? What makes it so fun to pick on me out of everyone here, hey? What possible pleasure could you get from it that you couldn’t from hunting grouse with your friends?"

The rat turned slowly, his features lit a warm yet haunting red by the fire’s last embers.

"To see if you would ever pluck up the ardour to challenge me thus, my friend. It took a lot of nerve to say what you just said, and through that nerve you are now due the utmost respect. Simply for this will you no longer be tormented by I or my friends."

And Markaris realised just who this rat was - he was the one who would soon gain power, who would lead them all to glory, he who would stand higher than any other had before.

Excerpt 1 beta: universe D&D.

Markaris was confident. His skills were ready, his spells prepared, his powers augmented by the possession of one more scroll. His adversary sat foolishly by the fire, nursing his cold hands against the flames and displaying the perfect target for the opportunist who knew what he was doing. And he’d asked for it for long enough. Given the torment, the jibes and the annoyances the rat presented, Markaris was bent on destroying him with all the power of his mind.

And there Briseus sat, unknowing of the pain which awaited him in the form of this single acid arrow, this single manifestation of matter at Markaris’ fingertips.

And the green bolt flew through the air, and bit into the back of the rat, who screamed in pain and fell forwards into the fire, howling and gasping for breath, ragged in the dissolute agony which overtook him as quickly as his lungs were erased from all conventional existence by the acid. He choked, and coughed up a mixture of blood and acid, and before long, his lifeless corpse lay still, engulfed in the sudden inferno the fire had become.

And Markaris had failed to hide himself properly. Three apprentice mages has found him. One lay dead at his feet, eyes and skull punctured by a magic missile array, and the other two stood before him in grim determination. They muttered a spell, both the same words, and their outstretched hands crackled with electrical energy. Both reared back at the same instant, and Markaris tried to turn and run. But he was caught in the discharge, millions of volts passing through his body in an instant, destroying his mind and his limbs, which lay twitching in the moonlight as the carnage was cleared away and the others were shown the cost of killing a guard in the Leader’s honour.

Well, decide for yourself. All universes can be roleplayed in - this can be proved by the sheer diversity of roleplay on the internet and the plethora of worlds you can find if you try. Hence there is nothing ultimately taboo about uber-violence, magic, technology, substance abuse, anything which happens in our world, anything which happened in Blade Runner. Provided it makes a good story, provided it is at least legible and believable, who can argue with what you can do? However, I feel I must also make this point - although there is a massive free rein in the internet as a whole, there is no such thing in a single club. There are those with rules which you must adhere to, or live with the guilt of the destruction of a good club - or alternatively a big "banned" sticker - branded on your forehead. The most nottable of the lenient roleplay zones are the Fantasy: Survivor series of sites, in that many of their contests are multi-planar based, allowing for a huge choice of culture, society, physics, metaphysics and behavioural patterns for your characters, even those you can dream up by yourself (most notable of my such achievements - my only such achievement, actually - iis Hadrasca Cormonte, from a world I created in three days flat).

I leave you with such a choice - make it count. And when you’re happy, don’t move. Always take the time to wrap up any thread you’re a part of before leaving someplace, and try never to forget where you are. And above all (even though most of us have), never join a club and then leave your character to stagnate. There’s no point.