Info and comic and such are in the second post. [size=xx-large] A Study on New World Flora and Fauna [/size]
It’s been awhile since I sat at this desk and took the time to just think. Far too much of my life has been action lately; it’s unhealthy for a man to be on the move this often. So here I sit, rewriting my field notes into what (I hope) will be an informative read, or a read at any rate, for whatever poor soul stumbles upon them. Hell, maybe these notes of mine are being looked for; I’ve been missing for a while now. I’d like to think someone has noticed my absence. Let me include, then, some basic information.
I am an amateur biologist by trade and an adventurer by nature. I was sent, along with a large group of more-experienced scientists, to observe and report upon a huge landmass found on the other side of our great ocean; a landmass wholly unlike ours, it turns out. There was little for such a poorly trained biologist to do, as there were only a handful of species to be identified. Thankfully, my adventuring nature took over…but all in good time. I will refer to myself as Charles, by the way, in memoriam of a good friend. I myself am of no importance; think of me as a conduit for the information contained herein. Whether this story of mine succeeds or fails does not change my plans for the future; I will retire here, in this strange land that has somehow become more familiar than my native one. I begin my story the night I was cast ashore…
Landing
I first touched this strange new land on a shadowed beach, under a sky so dark it swallowed the stars’ light, and licked clean the earth of any hopeful flicker. The only glow remaining was that of bestial eyes, eight at a time, scurrying through the dark. I do not know how they failed to see me; I only know that I wanted nothing more than to leave this strange and hostile land. I had arrived by a rowboat deployed from a large schooner, but I couldn’t see her sails despite their brilliant whiteness. I could barely see myself. I curled up in my little dinghy and prayed for the morning sun, and for the schooner to greet me upon awakening, instead of a pair of gleaming spider fangs…
I awoke to a land as alien to me in the day as it had been in the night, the friendly schooner nowhere to be found. Spiders still crept through the shadows. I remained in my boat, but they refused to leave my area; they continued their patrol along the hidden paths of the forest. I could stand it no longer; I stepped aground. They paid me no heed. It was then that I finally remembered my duty, and pulled out my sketchbook and field notepad. The selection was disappointing, to say the least. I could identify three species of plants nearby, and the spiders were the only animals (and I was far from ready to approach them). I sat down in the short grass, amazed by its softness and perfection. Not a single blade was browned or yellowed; each was of uniform height and width, and perfectly hid whatever tiny contours might have decorated the dirt on which it had grown. My notes are as follows.
[size=xx-large]Species A: Unnamed grass. Main groundcover for unexplored landmass, so far. Thick, lush, consistent in color (rich emerald green) and length. Neither diseases nor damage visible on any blade. Root depth of about one meter. Simple structure-single central vein, uniform width ending in a sharp slope to the tip. No aerial reproductive organs found-most likely reproduces through underground rhizomes, which may account for the dense, deep roots. Resembles [size=xx-large]Cynodon dactylon in several respects, including length. Attempting to remove the grass from the ground to study the roots resulted in it withering with alarming speed; it seems impossible to isolate a sample. Definitely unusual. [/size]
I was startled, to say the least, when I discovered the plant’s habit of disintegrating into dust every time I tried to pick a blade. I instead decided to try excavating a chunk that included the roots, so I might take it with me to compare to any other species of grass I found. This did not work either; even though the roots definitely ended about a meter down, the grass continued to disappate whenever it was removed from its “patch.” This, I decided, was a job for the more-experienced scientists who had landed north of me. I would be meeting up with them soon, anyways; our whole surveying scheme meant that I would be seeing my fellow man in about a week’s time. We had been dropped off in order of increasing hardiness (which had drawn several complaints from the pudgier, pastier, more thoroughly out-of-shape scientists and several chuckles from the rest of us) with the idea of the least-fit man walking south after a day’s time until he met with the second least-fit, and the two of them setting south for the third least-fit, etc. This meant I could expect about six scientists, at least two of them ready to drop dead from exhaustion. I would lead this group to find four more men. The final man to be found (and the most fit) was not a scientists but a Herculean carpenter, who would have built for us a lovely cottage to use as a base of operations. This way we managed to survey a fair chunk of coastline without the less physically adept among us being eaten by wolves before they could complete their government-sanctioned duties (after which, the hell to them, let the wolves have their fill. At least this was the impression I got). Hoping to find some more-concrete data to impress my wheezing colleagues with, I set out inland.
:gravel:Brave Sight
The weather was nothing short of wonderful; all the terrors of the previous night seemed to melt away in the sunshine and gentle breeze. I found myself humming a ditty I thought I’d long forgotten; soon I was belting it out, the strange grass my only audience. The biodiversity remained tragically low; it seemed to me that such a lovely day deserved some creatures beside myself to enjoy it. And enjoy it I did; I even chanced a wave at a wandering spider, though it ignored me. The “forest” near my landing site had turned out to be little more than a tight cluster of a dozen or so trees, (such things tend to look far darker and more dangerous when one is trembling in one’s boots) so I had decided to find a true forest, maybe set up camp in one of those lovely caves that one’s always hearing about in adventure books. I had a week to waste, and precious little work to do; might as well try out some of my old Boy Scout skills and enjoy what came my way. However, there were no forests to be found. This struck me as absolutely bizarre; the trees near my landing had appeared to be old enough to produce seeds, yet there was no evidence of any sort of forest spread. I decided it might be due to the lack of birds, since they would usually carry such things far afield. In all my wanderings I had never heard a birdcall, and my little landing forest was devoid of any nests. The wind sang its own song though, so it was not so lonely.
It was about noon when I finally decided to climb to higher ground to try to spot a forest. Until now I had been wandering along a chain of grassy valleys and passes. Now that I could see the land for what it was, though. It was…amazing, to say the least. Breathtaking. I had never truly seen a mountain before that day, nor, I think a cliff, nor an ocean. I saw it all with new eyes. Gorgeous. There was a cascade of lava, dropping far into some unknowable depths. A lake ridged with reeds that was its own temple. The forest, too, that I had been searching for; greater and livelier and more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. Singing and laughing and skipping, I made my way down the mountain and to those sacred woods, pausing only for a drink from a clear-flowing stream. From the corner of my eye I swore I saw something tall and green, with black eyes, but if it had ever been there then it vanished when I looked. I could not have cared less. Resuming my song and skip, I continued my journey.
The Great Forest
I reached the forest a little after midday, though in the understory it was already twilight. When my motherland was little more than a collection of dirt huts, these woods were already ancient; that little village was now a prosperous empire, though I doubt anything it has produced could compare to the regal giants of the forest. I wandered among them, lost in thought; on an impulse I embraced one, and found that I could not reach my arms all the way around. Even the youngest trees on the very edge of the forest, were about a meter in diameter. Oddly enough there was neither leaf litter nor shed branches to be found. I had planned on collecting some for a fire in my prospective cave home, but the sun was still high and I was in no mood to worry. I settled down between some welcoming roots and pulled out my notebook. [size=xx-large]
Species B: Common tree, currently unnamed. Shares many similarities with known deciduous trees; cuboid trunk, rough brown bark, thick roots and branches, and leaves forming tight clusters that block out most, if not all, light. Nothing unusual to report; I will add further notes after further study, of course.[/size]
My note-taking had given my legs a chance to rest, so I set out once again, hoping to find a homey cave to complete my day of exploration. I was not disappointed; the forest bordered a mountain range on one side, and there were many to choose from. I settled in a little cut in the mountainside that opened into a cavern about the size of my living room back home. There was a stream running down the slope beside it that was cold and sweet, and it merged with a lake farther on that I might find some fish in. By now it was near sunset. I had brought with me several torches, but no hatchet; worse still, I had failed to find any kindling on the ground. I set out on a last-minute collection run, hoping to have more luck finding twigs and sticks on the shore of the lake. Not only did I fail, I was now half an hour from my cave, and only minutes from nightfall. Not looking forward to the panicked run back to my base nor the cold and frightening night that would ensue, I took my frustration out on a nearby tree. I punched it once, and not with much force, but I noticed that the trunk gave under the impact. What was this? I experimentally hit it a few more times, and it soon popped into a resource block, ready for collection. I whipped out the notebook and added an addendum.
[size=xx-large]Species B’s wood is extremely soft, and can easily be harvested by punching, with no damage to the hand.[/size]
Did every plant on this landmass have some strange quirk? I was extremely thankful, though, and set about harvesting the wood. It took me another three blocks to notice that I had a visitor. It was about my height and had four legs arranged at its base like the roots of the tree. Its body was slim, and its head was cube-shaped. Its face was what disturbed me the most; both the eyes and the mouth were just holes in its face, and seemed to radiate a bizarre emotion. I would not call it sadness or anger or hatred; negativity is the word, I guess. A general unhappiness with the world and a more-specific loathing of its current time and place. Also unusual was its skin, which even from a distance I could tell was like that of a succulent leaf, all green and veined and fleshy. I raised my hand experimentally and the creature’s eyes followed it; the head was attached to the body by a slender vine “neck.” Frightened but unwilling to show it, I continued to harvest the tree. I had joked before that I would rather die than be caught leaving a floating canopy; time to eat your words, Charles. When I had harvested the tree in its entirety, was it just me or did the creature nod a little, as if in satisfaction? I set about destroying the remaining leaves, lost in my wondering. If the creature wished to harm me, I decided, wouldn’t it have done so already? Then why was it watching me? I took the saplings and began to plant them in the places I knew they would grow. Like the floating canopies, this was a pet peeve of mine; if one wished to harvest, mustn’t one plant first? When I had finished reseeding the area, the creature had left. Maybe it had simply been curious? The sun was sinking low now, and I realized that I might be in serious danger. My head was so full of questions that I found it difficult to focus on my path. One more terrifying question managed to fit itself in though; how the hell was I going to find my way back to the cave?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ask me about giant, Canadian, zombie-steampunk tyrannosaurus rexes.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
Thankfully, I am better at writing than at art. I hope. Bonus comic for coming to my thread!
The title really needs some work (it sounds about as interesting as the research paper I'm currently slacking off on), so ideas are appreciated. Like the story? Let me know, goshdarnit! I can see that you people are looking at it Oh yes, the info...
Hey there, folks. I haven't gotten to do any creative writing in a long, long time, so I'm slacking off on my research paper to type up a fanfic. Disclaimer time; I'm very rusty, this is my first fanfic (yes, ever), and I'm one of those annoying farmer types. You know, the ones who have a wheat farm set up on the second day of a server and end up covering that lovely mountain in a giant reed farm? Yup, one of those. This fanfic actually stems from my love of pixelated plants over ores. Haha, stems? Did you see that plant pun? A terrific example of the high comedy you can expect from this fanfic. /hopefullysarcasm. Anyways, feel free to correct me on whatever you see fit, I'm pretty used to it. Also, if this story sounds like a research paper, think of it as my mind resetting. You can still make fun of it, though. Or not. Yeah, it's not like I care if you guys read it at all.
In the meantime, I'll just reread my...was it quite this purple when I posted it?
Damned adjective gnomes, messing up my stories. Back in a few. *grabs a can of Raid and a sharp stick*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ask me about giant, Canadian, zombie-steampunk tyrannosaurus rexes.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
Heheh, Boy Scout skills. Looks like we updated our fics at the same time, lawl. :tongue.gif: I like this, and I *could* help you figure out a title if you want help. :3
Three cheers for matched updates (hip hip hooray) :3 And yes, I desperately need a new title. Any help would be most appreciated! Congratulations on your fanfic by the way, it's coming along very nicely.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ask me about giant, Canadian, zombie-steampunk tyrannosaurus rexes.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
It’s been awhile since I sat at this desk and took the time to just think. Far too much of my life has been action lately; it’s unhealthy for a man to be on the move this often. So here I sit, rewriting my field notes into what (I hope) will be an informative read, or a read at any rate, for whatever poor soul stumbles upon them. Hell, maybe these notes of mine are being looked for; I’ve been missing for a while now. I’d like to think someone has noticed my absence. Let me include, then, some basic information.
I am an amateur biologist by trade and an adventurer by nature. I was sent, along with a large group of more-experienced scientists, to observe and report upon a huge landmass found on the other side of our great ocean; a landmass wholly unlike ours, it turns out. There was little for such a poorly trained biologist to do, as there were only a handful of species to be identified. Thankfully, my adventuring nature took over…but all in good time. I will refer to myself as Charles, by the way, in memoriam of a good friend. I myself am of no importance; think of me as a conduit for the information contained herein. Whether this story of mine succeeds or fails does not change my plans for the future; I will retire here, in this strange land that has somehow become more familiar than my native one. I begin my story the night I was cast ashore…
I first touched this strange new land on a shadowed beach, under a sky so dark it swallowed the stars’ light, and licked clean the earth of any hopeful flicker. The only glow remaining was that of bestial eyes, eight at a time, scurrying through the dark. I do not know how they failed to see me; I only know that I wanted nothing more than to leave this strange and hostile land. I had arrived by a rowboat deployed from a large schooner, but I couldn’t see her sails despite their brilliant whiteness. I could barely see myself. I curled up in my little dinghy and prayed for the morning sun, and for the schooner to greet me upon awakening, instead of a pair of gleaming spider fangs…
I awoke to a land as alien to me in the day as it had been in the night, the friendly schooner nowhere to be found. Spiders still crept through the shadows. I remained in my boat, but they refused to leave my area; they continued their patrol along the hidden paths of the forest. I could stand it no longer; I stepped aground. They paid me no heed. It was then that I finally remembered my duty, and pulled out my sketchbook and field notepad. The selection was disappointing, to say the least. I could identify three species of plants nearby, and the spiders were the only animals (and I was far from ready to approach them). I sat down in the short grass, amazed by its softness and perfection. Not a single blade was browned or yellowed; each was of uniform height and width, and perfectly hid whatever tiny contours might have decorated the dirt on which it had grown. My notes are as follows.
[size=xx-large]Species A: Unnamed grass. Main groundcover for unexplored landmass, so far. Thick, lush, consistent in color (rich emerald green) and length. Neither diseases nor damage visible on any blade. Root depth of about one meter. Simple structure-single central vein, uniform width ending in a sharp slope to the tip. No aerial reproductive organs found-most likely reproduces through underground rhizomes, which may account for the dense, deep roots. Resembles [size=xx-large]Cynodon dactylon in several respects, including length. Attempting to remove the grass from the ground to study the roots resulted in it withering with alarming speed; it seems impossible to isolate a sample. Definitely unusual.
[/size]
I was startled, to say the least, when I discovered the plant’s habit of disintegrating into dust every time I tried to pick a blade. I instead decided to try excavating a chunk that included the roots, so I might take it with me to compare to any other species of grass I found. This did not work either; even though the roots definitely ended about a meter down, the grass continued to disappate whenever it was removed from its “patch.” This, I decided, was a job for the more-experienced scientists who had landed north of me. I would be meeting up with them soon, anyways; our whole surveying scheme meant that I would be seeing my fellow man in about a week’s time. We had been dropped off in order of increasing hardiness (which had drawn several complaints from the pudgier, pastier, more thoroughly out-of-shape scientists and several chuckles from the rest of us) with the idea of the least-fit man walking south after a day’s time until he met with the second least-fit, and the two of them setting south for the third least-fit, etc. This meant I could expect about six scientists, at least two of them ready to drop dead from exhaustion. I would lead this group to find four more men. The final man to be found (and the most fit) was not a scientists but a Herculean carpenter, who would have built for us a lovely cottage to use as a base of operations. This way we managed to survey a fair chunk of coastline without the less physically adept among us being eaten by wolves before they could complete their government-sanctioned duties (after which, the hell to them, let the wolves have their fill. At least this was the impression I got). Hoping to find some more-concrete data to impress my wheezing colleagues with, I set out inland.
The weather was nothing short of wonderful; all the terrors of the previous night seemed to melt away in the sunshine and gentle breeze. I found myself humming a ditty I thought I’d long forgotten; soon I was belting it out, the strange grass my only audience. The biodiversity remained tragically low; it seemed to me that such a lovely day deserved some creatures beside myself to enjoy it. And enjoy it I did; I even chanced a wave at a wandering spider, though it ignored me. The “forest” near my landing site had turned out to be little more than a tight cluster of a dozen or so trees, (such things tend to look far darker and more dangerous when one is trembling in one’s boots) so I had decided to find a true forest, maybe set up camp in one of those lovely caves that one’s always hearing about in adventure books. I had a week to waste, and precious little work to do; might as well try out some of my old Boy Scout skills and enjoy what came my way. However, there were no forests to be found. This struck me as absolutely bizarre; the trees near my landing had appeared to be old enough to produce seeds, yet there was no evidence of any sort of forest spread. I decided it might be due to the lack of birds, since they would usually carry such things far afield. In all my wanderings I had never heard a birdcall, and my little landing forest was devoid of any nests. The wind sang its own song though, so it was not so lonely.
It was about noon when I finally decided to climb to higher ground to try to spot a forest. Until now I had been wandering along a chain of grassy valleys and passes. Now that I could see the land for what it was, though. It was…amazing, to say the least. Breathtaking. I had never truly seen a mountain before that day, nor, I think a cliff, nor an ocean. I saw it all with new eyes. Gorgeous. There was a cascade of lava, dropping far into some unknowable depths. A lake ridged with reeds that was its own temple. The forest, too, that I had been searching for; greater and livelier and more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. Singing and laughing and skipping, I made my way down the mountain and to those sacred woods, pausing only for a drink from a clear-flowing stream. From the corner of my eye I swore I saw something tall and green, with black eyes, but if it had ever been there then it vanished when I looked. I could not have cared less. Resuming my song and skip, I continued my journey.
I reached the forest a little after midday, though in the understory it was already twilight. When my motherland was little more than a collection of dirt huts, these woods were already ancient; that little village was now a prosperous empire, though I doubt anything it has produced could compare to the regal giants of the forest. I wandered among them, lost in thought; on an impulse I embraced one, and found that I could not reach my arms all the way around. Even the youngest trees on the very edge of the forest, were about a meter in diameter. Oddly enough there was neither leaf litter nor shed branches to be found. I had planned on collecting some for a fire in my prospective cave home, but the sun was still high and I was in no mood to worry. I settled down between some welcoming roots and pulled out my notebook.
[size=xx-large]
Species B: Common tree, currently unnamed. Shares many similarities with known deciduous trees; cuboid trunk, rough brown bark, thick roots and branches, and leaves forming tight clusters that block out most, if not all, light. Nothing unusual to report; I will add further notes after further study, of course.[/size]
My note-taking had given my legs a chance to rest, so I set out once again, hoping to find a homey cave to complete my day of exploration. I was not disappointed; the forest bordered a mountain range on one side, and there were many to choose from. I settled in a little cut in the mountainside that opened into a cavern about the size of my living room back home. There was a stream running down the slope beside it that was cold and sweet, and it merged with a lake farther on that I might find some fish in. By now it was near sunset. I had brought with me several torches, but no hatchet; worse still, I had failed to find any kindling on the ground. I set out on a last-minute collection run, hoping to have more luck finding twigs and sticks on the shore of the lake. Not only did I fail, I was now half an hour from my cave, and only minutes from nightfall. Not looking forward to the panicked run back to my base nor the cold and frightening night that would ensue, I took my frustration out on a nearby tree. I punched it once, and not with much force, but I noticed that the trunk gave under the impact. What was this? I experimentally hit it a few more times, and it soon popped into a resource block, ready for collection. I whipped out the notebook and added an addendum.
[size=xx-large]Species B’s wood is extremely soft, and can easily be harvested by punching, with no damage to the hand.[/size]
Did every plant on this landmass have some strange quirk? I was extremely thankful, though, and set about harvesting the wood. It took me another three blocks to notice that I had a visitor. It was about my height and had four legs arranged at its base like the roots of the tree. Its body was slim, and its head was cube-shaped. Its face was what disturbed me the most; both the eyes and the mouth were just holes in its face, and seemed to radiate a bizarre emotion. I would not call it sadness or anger or hatred; negativity is the word, I guess. A general unhappiness with the world and a more-specific loathing of its current time and place. Also unusual was its skin, which even from a distance I could tell was like that of a succulent leaf, all green and veined and fleshy. I raised my hand experimentally and the creature’s eyes followed it; the head was attached to the body by a slender vine “neck.” Frightened but unwilling to show it, I continued to harvest the tree. I had joked before that I would rather die than be caught leaving a floating canopy; time to eat your words, Charles. When I had harvested the tree in its entirety, was it just me or did the creature nod a little, as if in satisfaction? I set about destroying the remaining leaves, lost in my wondering. If the creature wished to harm me, I decided, wouldn’t it have done so already? Then why was it watching me? I took the saplings and began to plant them in the places I knew they would grow. Like the floating canopies, this was a pet peeve of mine; if one wished to harvest, mustn’t one plant first? When I had finished reseeding the area, the creature had left. Maybe it had simply been curious? The sun was sinking low now, and I realized that I might be in serious danger. My head was so full of questions that I found it difficult to focus on my path. One more terrifying question managed to fit itself in though; how the hell was I going to find my way back to the cave?
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
The title really needs some work (it sounds about as interesting as the research paper I'm currently slacking off on), so ideas are appreciated. Like the story? Let me know, goshdarnit! I can see that you people are looking at it
Hey there, folks. I haven't gotten to do any creative writing in a long, long time, so I'm slacking off on my research paper to type up a fanfic. Disclaimer time; I'm very rusty, this is my first fanfic (yes, ever), and I'm one of those annoying farmer types. You know, the ones who have a wheat farm set up on the second day of a server and end up covering that lovely mountain in a giant reed farm? Yup, one of those. This fanfic actually stems from my love of pixelated plants over ores. Haha, stems? Did you see that plant pun? A terrific example of the high comedy you can expect from this fanfic. /hopefullysarcasm. Anyways, feel free to correct me on whatever you see fit, I'm pretty used to it. Also, if this story sounds like a research paper, think of it as my mind resetting. You can still make fun of it, though. Or not. Yeah, it's not like I care if you guys read it at all.
refreshrefreshrefreshOHGODHASANYONECOMMENTEDrefreshrefreshrefresh
In the meantime, I'll just reread my...was it quite this purple when I posted it?
Damned adjective gnomes, messing up my stories. Back in a few. *grabs a can of Raid and a sharp stick*
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
What? I don't know. Transparent bump is transparent. I'm very tired right now.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
I understand the want for the bumps and constant refreshing, no one's commented on my story yet either. ^^;
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
(Also, Chapter 3 is up. Finally, something action-y will happen! :biggrin.gif: )
I own one, and her name is Cuddlemuffins.
The treehugging bit made me lawl, and I wonder how our hero will get back to his cave. Keep it up!