By F Scott Hafner
Chapter 1 - The Baby Unicorn and Trolls
Trolls are prolific expellers of methane gas. The lighter trolls buzzed around like untied balloons. But unlike balloons, trolls never run out of gas. They just spiraled higher and higher until they splatted into the moon. More on trolls later.
Starfire, the cutest baby unicorn you ever did see, was frolicking among the tussocks, columns of tightly packed grass about one foot high and ten inches across. The sky above was endless. And there was a green blanket of tussocks as far as the eye could see. There were 186,000 mosquitos per cubic meter.
Starfire would leap into the air and the mosquitoes would fly underneath her and carry her about. All four legs were thrashing -- it looked like she was charging into the sky. Starfire so much loved to fly.
Starfire seemed an odd name for a unicorn especially her. She was tiny, no more than fifty pounds. There seemed little fire in her, and seemed not destined to be a star. Unicorns are lovely creatures in all respects, well almost. Unicorns smell like a skunk that just got run over. If you ever smell a skunk and can't find one dead in the middle of the road, you can be certain that a unicorn is nearby.
Unicorns appear much like horses. But the horn gives them away. Many unicorns have taken to camouflaging their horns to avoid detection. But they need to roll in the deskunkifyer bushes. The real name of this bush is a tightly held secret. If the trolls knew what it was they could easily destroy all the bushes. This would make it much easier for them to catch and exploit these lovely creatures -- mainly by eating them.
Starfire looked and smelled like all the other baby unicorns, but she was different. And nobody knew why. Unicorns are the most accepting creatures on earth, but even to them Starfire was odd. And Starfire felt odd. She so much wanted to be like everyone else.
Tussocks were generally safe for baby unicorns because trolls seldom go there. Trolls are so heavy that each step smashes two to three tussocks flat to the ground. If you see a trail of smashed tussocks about four feet apart, you are certain that a troll has passed that way. That makes them easy to track.
Trolls are indestructible so they don't fear for their lives. They just fear being found out. When they are it's a big pain for them to get somewhere where they are no longer noticed. If they dove underwater you could just follow the bubbles and when it gets dark you throw a match at the bubbles and follow the flames. The bubbles are usually lit right away to eliminate the smell. It is a little-known fact that trolls often hide in bathrooms.
There are many ways trolls escape when seen. The easiest is to find any manner of charging foods, beans, some health foods, and a variety of special potions This amplifies the methane flow so when they light it there is sufficient thrust to launch them over the horizon. They need to be very careful not to splat into the moon as there is no known way back. Nobody has gone back to the moon yet for fear that a troll might try to hitch a ride home.
No charging foods exist in the tundra. The rate of decomposition for anything there is just too slow because the ground is frozen -- or so it seemed. What is decomposition you might ask? It is what Beethoven is doing lying in his grave. There are only two indisputable facts, water is wet and a troll's favorite food are unicorns. And to add injury to insult, the horn makes for an excellent after meal tooth pick.
| Author Notes | This is likely the first chapter of a children's book about climate change. Starfire teams up with The High Tundra Drifter to battle those promoting fossil fuel while doing everything possible to discourage renewable energy. |
By F Scott Hafner
At first Starfire heard what sounded like a distant pounding of a bass drum. It got louder and louder. Then the mosquitos vanished, rushing madly for higher ground but there was none. Why were they so fearful for their lives?
Well if you would have paid attention in that animal mortality class, you would have learned why. Mosquitoes flap their wings so rapidly, it gives that telltale high pitched buzzing sound. This buzzing creates a lot of heat. If you could see a buzzing mosquito under a microscope in the dark, you would see a tiny flame at the base of each wing. It should be obvious by now that mosquitos only run from one thing, trolls.
The explanation is quite simple. Trolls fill the air with methane and mosquitos ignite it in little pockets, enough to fry that little winged beast but not enough to cause a chain reaction that would blow up the sky. The net effect is that if you put methane in the air, the air heats up. And even without mosquitos, it still heats up but nobody really understands why.
Most people do not realize that the moon had air just like Earth, but what happened to it? Do I need to tell you or can you figure it out yourself? Alright I'll tell you.
More and more skinny trolls splatted into the moon. Because the moon is so much smaller than Earth the amount of methane from the trolls in the air up there just kept getting higher and higher.
Then it happened. A mosquito got caught in a troll's nose hair and could not escape. As it approached the moon it ignited all the methane and burned up the sky and the lush forests that once grew there. Some of the trolls blew off the moon and landed on mars. That is why we have not yet sent people to mars. NASA just can't figure out how to solve the troll problem.
Just as Starfire was leaping from one tussock to another a dark shadow loomed over her. She looked up and saw a horrible sight. Large green teeth first caught her attention. They were dripping a foul liquid that could be mistaken for diarrhea. The big fat belly looked more like a part of a coconut shell, just tightly knit bristles. The sky was blotted out by the scaled foot that was crashing down on her. She caught her wits and sprang to the side just as the foot stomped.
Starfire was braying in terror. And the millions of mosquitos started flapping their wings in unison as if to send a distress signal, but to who? The massive hand swatted at her with a glancing blow. The unicorn was sent spiraling through the air. She dove out of sight between the tussocks. But the troll could follow the swaying of the tussock smashing down with each step growing closer and closer. The baby unicorn's heart was patterning at an unbelievable rate. How long could she endure? At any moment, she would surely perish. The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of eternity fertilizing a tussock.
Then off in the distance a sound, chug, chug, chug ... It grew more rapidly with each chug. The troll stopped briefly to see what was happening. Off in the distance, He saw this man, 6'5", more legs than anything else, black Stetson hat over bushy hair. He was carrying what looked like a flag on a pole. He was closing in rapidly on the troll. But the troll just turned and continued to close in on the horrified and nearly breathless unicorn.
But then the mosquitos were no longer fleeing. They were orbiting at a safe distance in anticipation. Just as the unicorn could flee no more, the troll looked up to assess the situation. Contrary to popular belief, trolls are far more intelligent than people give them credit. What was that flag and why were the mosquitos edging dangerously close? OMG thought the troll -- that flagpole was sporting a fireproof blanket covered with sticky goo. He instantly recognized the threat.
This very odd man was going to use the pole to smack him on the butt and that fireproof flag would wrap him up like a diaper. While trolls were indestructible, they were quite susceptible to nasty itching mosquito bites. The instant the troll was wrapped up eliminating the threat of fire, the mosquitoes would attack, millions of them. The troll immediately put his hands to his chest and started flapping his arms like chicken wings. His belly grew bigger and bigger until there was this blinding flash of light. The troll slowly rose into the air with rocket flames billowing out behind him. He soon disappeared over the horizon.
Starfire and The High Tundra Drifter approached somewhere between formally and casually -- a better word would be respectfully but maybe a combination of all three. There are just no words to describe this special relationship. They nuzzled noses if that makes things clearer.
| Author Notes | This is a second chapter of a book - more description to come. |
By F Scott Hafner
Dad switched on the light and said, "Breakfast in 10."
It was 4:30am. The outside bit with cold and wet teeth. The full moon arced towards the horizon. Our hero who would become known as The High Tundra Drifter, then eight years old, lived in southern California about 30-miles from the coast and 20-miles north of the Mexican border. They called it the heartland, a conservative enclave. But pre-Fox News conservative - people had a right to their opinion.
The Drifter crawled out of the sack, put on his jeans, Pendleton wool shirt, and work boots. His jeans and shirt were nice, but his boots had seen better days. Hunting, splitting wood, hacking weeds, and slushing through mud were not kind to his boots. But his boots were a part of him just like his lanky knees and elbows.
Only time he got a new pair was when his toes were dancing out the front. His mom once bought a new pair for Christmas, but he never opened the box. Doing so would have hurt his old boot's feelings -- boots do have feelings more so than most imagine. Putting his old boots to rest was a solemn affair.
The Drifter would brush them up real clean. Then gently put them in his knap sack before taking a long hike looking for the perfect rock outcropping. There he would find a crack between the rock and push his boots down deep with the aid of a long stick carefully selected for the task. He would stand up, bow his head and say a few words.
He was a devout Catholic and a man of few words. Once his mom asked what he had done with his old boots. He just said, "threw them in the trash." His mom knew he was lying but ever since honored his privacy. The Drifter had always meant to return and pay respects to his boots, but just could not bring himself to do so.
The Drifter could smell the deer meat and eggs frying. While he was destined to become the chairman of the biology department at a major University, he was a mountain man at heart hunting, fishing, and sleeping under the stars. Never killed for sport, just for food. He much prefers the stars for a roof. He recounts with fondness how primitive people lived and strives for that standard.
"Good Morning," boomed his dad, most likely to wake him up as most times he was a gentle quiet man. "Did you have nice dreams?"
"I sure did," replied The Drifter almost with glee. "I rescued the cutest baby unicorn from a troll up in Alaska." It would be a while before Drifter realized his dreams were real.
His dad continued, "Looking forward to your first day collecting data on migrating birds?" "Absolutely." The Drifter beamed. While he was a mountain man at heart, birds fascinated him. He had already learned to identify birds with his Audubon Society book.
| Author Notes | The Drifter is a real person but his identity is not revealed. Yes, someone can find all biology chairs at major universities and see who attended San Diego State and Duke. But I think the readers will honor his privacy. But many know him as The High Tundra Drifter. He claims I gave him that nick name. I don't have specific permission to write this but my intent to do so has been made clear. If I withdraw this book from the site, you will know why. It does not meet his standards. |
By F Scott Hafner
By the time The Drifter gave his valedictorian speech at his high school, his optimism about the state of the world was quite low. His speech was full of anger and foreboding about the future. DDT was killing his birds. He wanted to do something about it.
The Drifter wanted to go to a top university. The Drifter had straight A's in all the right classes and field research to back it up - reality struck. He needed a scholarship. And that required information about how much money his father made. In the Heartland, a man's privacy was next to honor. There would be no scholarship. San Diego State University was the least expensive university in the area and that is where the Drifter began his studies.
It was at San Diego State where he began his arctic field research. He seemed quite a man underneath his black Stetson. But he usually kept to himself. Camp was 104 miles Northeast of Fairbanks Alaska. His research required him to stay awake over 48-hour stretches. He could be seen walking about camp trying to convince the other researchers that people do not need sleep. The less he slept, the more he talked.
Near camp lived a very famous gold miner by the name of Alice. One day The Drifter was walking down the dirt road towards Alice's cabin. She said, "Look at that no good varmit coming down yonder, best I go get my Ought 6." It is what she called her high-powered rifle. She was assured Steve was safe although she did not quite believe it. She left her ought 6 in the cabin.
The Drifter was in Grisly Bear country. Any researcher coming up from the University of Alaska always had a high-powered rifle. There were no guns at The Drifter's camp. They were as wild as the grisly bears.
The Drifter finished up his Master's degree at San Diego State and moved on to Duke. In keeping with his boots, The Drifter committed to a professor and line of research in graduate school. When he had the opportunity to change course to a professor he greatly admired and a topic more directed towards his interests, he stayed the course. Once he makes a commitment, you can depend on him.
And when he speaks, there is wisdom in his words.
| Author Notes | A pretty accurate description of The Drifter's college days. This is a chapter in a book and is intended to paint a picture of what he was like as a person. |
By F Scott Hafner
Starfire knew not what she was doing. Where was this quest taking her? For fifteen days, she walked towards the great mountain, three miles high from base to peak. Nothing but black rock of ancient times. One side a sheer cliff and the rest suitable only for goats. But on she plodded - no possibility of water or food.
She had been frolicking among the sedrack on her third birthday. Sedrack is quite like corn stocks in height, width, and color but suppler, they flow in the wind like the golden wheat of the plain. The fruit of the sedrack, called a klisk, has been likened to the taste of Apple and carrot. It is bell shaped flaring to about four inches at the base and averages about eight inches in length. Klicks come in a wide variety of colors, red, blue, yellow, and seemingly all hues in between. Sedrack fields are stunning in mid spring but soon die off to be reborn after snowmelt. Horses and unicorns just love it.
She was tiny as unicorns go, four feet at the withers - but odd withers they were. The other unicorns called her hunchback, of course not to her face. Unicorns are polite.
Her coat was salt and pepper, the salt looked like marble, shiny but lush. Why it seemed so, no one could say, but it appeared able to deflect the sharpest and swiftest arrow - it could deflect anything as one glance made clear.
While grazing alone one day in the northernmost sedrack of the realm, a numruck began to hover in front of her eyes.
A numruck is an odd creature, roundish about the size of a softball. Its stubby bumblebee wings make a thunderous buzzing sound. It weighs about one pound. It looks of green and gold blotches about one inch across. Not dangerous but clearly annoying. It eats only sedrack stalks as far as anyone knows.
It has this most peculiar habit. It lays in wait, low on a sedrack stalk. As an unwitting creature, trundles by be it unicorn, horse, goat, or pig, it leaps in the air with thunderous wings. It goes from zero to forty miles per hour in less than ten feet. More like a loosed arrow than anything else. It rams its head directly into the rear hind quarter of the beast. Then the numruck starts spinning in a circle emitting an almost laughing like screech.
This little stunt always works on horses, pigs, and goats. But the unicorn is far brighter. In fact, they have a contest on how far a numruck can be kicked with the hind hoof. The record is 150' before the numruck gets back into controlled flight. Numrucks only surprise a baby unicorn once. This is considered a rite of passage and a source of entertainment for older unicorns. There are no lessons on numrucks until after the first head butt.
The hovering numruck put Starfire in the deepest trance, she followed it for forty-three hours with no awareness of the outside world. The numruck just crumbled from exhaustion, nothing left but dust floating in air. Starfire was again in charge of her senses, but no matter, her fate had been set and on she trundled.
It was twelve days to the mountain, each step excruciating pain, but she could not stop. She would have cried if she thought it might help. Unicorns cry often but only from sympathetic pain from the hurt of others. There was so much to cry about on earth, some stopped visiting. Even unicorns have their limits.
What laid between the skin and bone was nearly undetectable. On she staggered one grueling step after another. The vultures began to circle above looking down upon this decaying unicorn. Starfire felt a pang of joy when she saw the vultures.
With almost her dying breath, she made it to the top. Starfire looked over the edge of the cliff and shook with terror. She was forced to the edge by all-consuming force. She staggered back and her body began to shake, at first gently but very soon violently. She began to turn at first to the left then right. The shaking and turning became horrific. Her shoulders began to itch painfully beyond prior torment. There was nowhere to scratch. Her head was thrashing about in a vain effort to scratch her shoulders with her horn. She began to neigh as if to cry - the sound was pathetic. Never had a unicorn cried because of its own plight.
But somehow, she began to feel alive, more so than she had ever felt - is this what it feels like to die? Was she dead already? She reared up on her hind legs, and clawed at the sky. When her front legs came down, she collapsed. Completely still the vultures spiraled down. A flick of her tail, then silence. The vultures landed but did not approach, they stood at attention, heads bowed in two rows perpendicular to the cliff with Starfire dead center.
Starfire's head snapped up from the rock, body now writhing in agony. Hooves crawling with no purchase. A crack, she popped to her feet. All signs of fatigue gone. She raced towards the cliff only to recoil, a false charge, no fear. Her features transformed, no longer a starving wreck. The power of her stature was breath taking.
She galloped as far from the cliff as possible. And then she reared up on her hind legs and made a sound, a glorious sound, one that could be heard throughout the heavens. A lion's roar might approximate, but it shook the very foundation of the mountain. The vultures looked up but did not move. Two soon lofted into the air and landed on Starfire's back just above her front legs and dug their talons deep - a sharp quiver from Starfire.
Starfire bolted straight for the cliff down the road of vultures with rage of determination. Just before the cliff, the vultures opened their wings. The resistance of the wings against the air stopped the vultures in midair as Starfire barreled over the cliff. The vulture's talons held a piece to meat dripping crimson blood, one feet wide, two feet long and three inches deep. Just as Starfire cleared the edge she turned her head to offer a nod of approval.
Starfire's front legs conformed perfectly to her body with hind legs straight back. This reenergized mass of muscle shot like an arrow straight downward. The ripped hide spewed a fine mist of bright pink blood, when the blood cleared, such magnificent wings. They were pure white but included all the colors of the rainbow. You could see the color of every person on earth in harmony together.
Starfire rolled counterclockwise in a deep dive. She pulled her wings up but just accelerated the spin. Backing off she extended her starboard wing that again accelerated the spin. Then she extended her port wing and the spin slowed to a stop. She pulled up her wings just before smashing into the jagged rocks below.
She gave her wings a flap surging forward. She appeared as a bird underwater. Each flap gained more speed and altitude. Then she began rolling uncontrollably. Extending the correct wing as before just made the spin go faster. She extended the wrong wing and the roll stopped. Starfire shuttered uncontrollably. Instinctually, she dove hard for speed. Everything became calm and quiet. Her wings now undulated like the flanks of a stingray.
While Starfire was peaceful and calm, the ground below erupted in a swath of shattered glass and a boom the likes never heard. Her mother once told her that her father's name was Pegasus, could that be ...
| Author Notes | Starfire is the High Tundra Drifter's sidekick. This is the story of her coming of age. |
By F Scott Hafner
The planet Teklan is in the Kleckton quadrant of the Andromeda galaxy. Teklan is remarkably similar to earth. Nearly identical suns with both planets 93--million miles away from their respective suns. Both have similar surface areas of water and land. Tekla's oceans have just about 80% of the Earth's salinity. As such, the Teklan's oceans are more efficient absorbers of carbon dioxide (CO2) making them more acidic. You won't find any coral reefs on Teklan -- the acid levels destroyed them a long time ago.
Teklan became industrialized hundreds of years prior Earth, their ocean's abilities to absorb carbon dioxide delayed the impacts of CO2 on climate by about that same 200 years. Teklan's oceans are reaching their CO2 saturation point. Breaking waves show signs of fizzing as do carbonated drinks on Earth when shaken.
The people of Teklan showed great responsibility in developing alternative renewable energy sources. These sources included wind, solar, tidal, ocean currents, nuclear fusion, matter/antimatter reactors to names the major ones. Others are more advanced than can be explained here but one relates to how quantum foam and worm holes interact. This can't be adequately explained until the constraints of the uncertainty principle are overcome on Earth.
A hint at how to get around the uncertainty principle is the universe expands along two degrees of freedom. This allows two simultaneous observations of the same object. Too much incomprehensible stuff here. So, I'll move on.
The Darangazi Cartel controls the prices of oil, gas, and coal. There was a time where prices were less controlled but not by much. Ransk and the Horbadies, two of the top three world super powers, formed a coalition that took over the Middle Arkines. The Middle Arkines, had been an area once controlled by tribes with no specific boarders. A great deal of the most accessible oil resides in the Middle Arkines. It was too much trouble controlling the Middle Arkines from afar so the strongest countries of this world, stablished individual countries by somewhat arbitrarily setting boarders between each state.
While the world outwardly proclaiming peace for the region, the Middle Arkines were much easier to control and exploit if constant low-level conflict continued to exist. As peace seemed imminent, outside powers would intervene to stir things up. A very effective strategy was to ensure the region is overflowing with light and heavy weapons. And warlords were rewarded handsomely for stirring things up.
Oil, gas, and coal, require money to extract and transport over long distances. The economics of the renewable energy supplies made fossil fuels less than attractive -- they cost more than the renewable sources that did not pollute.
The Darangazi Cartel moved to make their vast holdings in fossil fuels profitable again. To do this they began to undermine renewable resources primarily through political means. Money drives politics as there are no campaign finance restrictions. There is little profit in renewable energy so fossil fuel is always attractive to those with the most money. Like here on Earth, the wealthy have an unquenchable thirst for more.
Anyone who stood up the Darangazi were dealt with harshly. Fossil fuels were rearing their ugly heads with no apparent means to stop them. But the Cartel was not anticipating the High Tundra Drifter and his able partner Starfire, the most amazing unicorn.
This begins the saga of the battles that ensued to keep Teklan habitable for the higher life forms. The Drifter enters Teklan through his dreams. Starfire roams as she pleases.
| Author Notes | Energy is in a balance between making the rich wealthier and maintaining a balance that will sustain human life on Earth. This is the beginning of a story about a global warming research scientist known as The Hugh Tundra Drifter. It is his real nickname and the Unicorn Starfire represents all who are motivated by the research to help keep our planet habitable for other than ants and cockroaches. It is intended to be a children's series that will include various researchers under different monikers. |
By F Scott Hafner
The Adversary
The Ectoplasmic Torsion Index (ETI) of the Northern Lights regulates the birth of magical creatures. Some associate ectoplasm with ghosts. They say it is the sticky substance that ghosts excrete on their surface when they wish to interact with the real world. This would allow a ghost to move a squeaking door or tickle the back of your neck.
Ghosts realized a long time ago that they had no interest in horrifying people and anything they might try pales to the horrors humans can inflict upon each other. Ghosts exist when the deceased feels they need to hang around to comfort those they left behind. Life challenges get in the way of many of the living -- substance abuse, mental illness, addiction, gambling, violence..., When a person dies all these challenges cease and they can see the destruction they have wrought while among the living.
Problem is many of the challenges are hereditary. Every condition had a positive application at some point in history. One example is the ability to ignore all potential negative consequences when faced with battling a sabre toothed tiger likely to their own death. While the tiger always won, The tiger learned that there is easier prey to eat.
But those who are immune to consequence today are little match for laws and moral standards. And like the tiger, some people learn to fear these people and that can lead to many problems. A few examples include Genghis Khan, Hitler...
All the above is to show there is some reality in all beliefs or lore. Back to the topic at hand, magical creatures. The ETI governs how long a magical creature remains in the womb so to speak. If the ETI is too high the northern lights are too sticky, and the creatures are never born. If the ETI is too low, the creatures fall to their doom. You see this as meteors.
Magical creature pods come from outer space. The earth's magnetic poles pull the pods to the poles thus allowing them to be nestled with the Northern Lights, and the Southern Lights as well. But this book will deal with efforts to protect the Northern Lights. A just as capable band is dealing with the Southern Lights, but they are being written about elsewhere.
Many things seem simple at first where the hidden meaning is buried deep. There is no greater example of this than Goldilocks and the Three Bears. This story was written to reflect the challenges of the ETI. It can't be just a bit too little or too much, it has to be just right.
And here is the challenge for the High Tundra Drifter and Starfire, how to keep the ETI just right, while many find it in their best interest to disrupt it for naïve and short-term gain. It is not possible for them to see the folly of their ways. They are the ones who would fight the sabre tooth tiger, but their time has long passed. Many ghosts come from this once honored stock.
Many detest ghosts but if taken in context of they were not born in their time, some can apply sympathy for their plight. But they are fought on all fronts, nevertheless.
The remainder of this story describes how these ectomancers, those who bring their own form of magic to manipulate the ectoplasmic torsion index, try to impose their misguided will. And how Starfire and The Drifter fight this battle against seemingly hopeless odds.
For 10,000 years, the earth had been in a wonderful equilibrium where stable weather patterns provided and environment supporting a wide variety of creatures. This condition needed the constant care and attention provided by the magical creatures. Some are always good; the unicorn is the best example. But others can be less reliable, and the troll is the example here. They lack the fine brain of the unicorn nurtured during their long gestation period within the northern lights.
Earth had been under surveillance by the ectomancers for a long time. They came from a galaxy beyond the reach of our best telescopes. The resources on earth were of great interest to them. Few planets have the right Goldilocks index to have large amounts of coal, oil, and natural gas.
These products were not coveted for energy generation, but their advanced chemical structure are the building blocks for a vast variety of products of value throughout the universe. The building blocks had been in peaceful slumber for hundreds of millions of years. The Trans-galactic council protected earth from exploitation but leadership changed to a more self-centered authoritarian structure.
This works well for the short term and is somewhat easy to create. Just tell inhabitants there are many terrifying things and only the tyrants can protect them. But in fact, the objects generating the terror are usually manufactured lies and the tyrants are those to be feared.
The alliances that protected earth had been shattered allowing the ectomancers to invade with the intent of denuding the earth of all petrochemicals. Some thought coal, oil and gas are dead, long ago surrendering life as their ancestor plants died. Nothing can be further from the truth. As the ectomancers awoke them from their slumber, they were enraged. They relentlessly attacked all that made the earth a wonderful hospital place.
Weather became inhospitable. There were massive droughts and floods, temperatures rose as did sea levels. Shifting seasons wreaked havoc with ecosystems essential to sustaining vibrant life. Waves of bugs no longer aligned timewise with the hatching of birds depriving them of much needed nourishment. Mosquitoes and other disease vectors were no longer contained by natural barriers.
The ectomancers recruited trolls and other life forms to do their evil bidding. They drilled into the ground, stripped the land clean, and in many ways disturbed the slumber of the fossil organic matter (FOM)-- just a fancy word for coal, oil, and gas.
The troll had a sense of honor on par with unicorns, but they lacked the discernment required to always do the right thing. Or one might say, they did not have the opportunities to keep their fingernails clean. The unicorns greatly respected the trolls even though they were often at cross purposes.
The magical creatures had a prime directive to return the FOM to their resting places to chill their anger. But the ectomancers were pulling it from the ground as fast as possible, so it could be distributed throughout the universe through the vast network of wormholes, direct portals from one place in the universe to another.
The age-old question is who is smarter the troll or the unicorn? That would be like asking what is more beautiful a poem or a sunset. They are very different things with boundless potential for beauty. In the case of trolls, they are very social creatures with a complex society and they live at equilibrium with their environment. In that context they are brilliant.
A unicorn is a solitary creature looking out for themselves and issues they hold dear. You would not have a unicorn society because they just would not know what to do. But neither the troll nor unicorn select the environment into which it is born. Sometimes they get lucky and sometimes not. Both are brilliant in their own way. But comparing a troll to the unicorn standard is ridiculous and vice versa.
| Author Notes | This describes the villains and the setting where they operate |
By F Scott Hafner
The Ectomancer scout was watching The Drifter eating blueberries within the 6-foot tall bushes. Being 6'5" and sporting a black Stetson, he was easily followed by the scout. What the scout could see, and The Drifter could not, was the presence of a very large grizzly bear eating berries within the same bushes. Neither the bear nor The Drifter had any idea of the others presence. Both were moving somewhat backward while harvesting these tasty little morsels.
To the surprise of both they backed into each other. While most considered The Drifter to be a gentle soul, this was not apparent at the moment. He whipped around and charged the bear. The bear rose to its full height of 9 feet and wrapped his razor-sharp claws around The Drifter hoisting him well above the ground. The bear roared, if you could call it a roar, sounds more like someone with dry heaves. The Drifter gave his patented high-pitched battle cry.
The Drifter reached out and grabbed the bear's ears and they nuzzled noises. It was The Drifter's way of saying hello. The bear swatted the drifter into the air and ran beneath the landing spot. The drifter came down right in front of the bear's shoulders where he again grabbed its ears. The bear was off and running at top speed of 35 mph. The Drifter was holding on to the bear's ear with one hand and waving his black Stetson in the air with his other while hooting and hollering. The grizzly reared to its full height with The Drifter hanging on tight.
The bear then lowered its head to allow The Drifter to slide off. The Drifter turned and faced the bear. Odd as it might seem, the bear sneezed in The Drifter's face covering it with stinky slimy bear snot. Both appeared to laugh their heads off. After much fun, both returned to berry munching with no further regard for each other.
The ectomancer returned to base and reported his findings. An ectomancer prime directive was to blend in with the native species. This meant figuring out the bear/drifter interaction and duplicating it. There seemed no indication that the drifter or bear had any prior knowledge of each other. So, a plan was developed, how can an ectomancer ride a grizzly?
As ectomancers come from different worlds, much the same as Messi and Renaldo, nothing on earth could kill them not to say they could not be injured nor suffer great pain. Each ectomancer has a stable full of genetically identical spare parts as well as real time brain data. You could squish an ectomancer with a 500-ton stone flatter than a frog on a freeway and still rebuild it with memories of the squishing pain intact.
The first attempt at bear back riding had a young ectomancer trooper just back into a grizzly in a blueberry patch and once the bear turned around it would give a high-pitched scream most certainly an invitation to begin the ride.
Well that is not how the bear saw it, nor how her cubs for that matter. Mama bear swatted the ectomancer's head and it flew off while being connected with a rubber band like spinal cord. The head snapped back but landed backwards. The bear none too pleased slashed the ectomancer's stomach and intestines spewed about like spaghetti but returned somewhat intact. The bear then charged the ectomancer and bit into its crotch. The previous two screams were impressive but this one was special. The bear charged the flapping body towards a cliff and threw it over not caring much about where it landed.
The troopers body was recovered and made whole again. Careful review of the video showed the obvious flaw in the plan. The trooper failed to grab the bear's ears. A trooper was sent back to make amends for his failed attempt. The details of the resulting action can be found in the Ectomancer Chronicles -- they keep meticulous records of all their exploits.
The problem was soon sorted out. The reconstructed trooper was to go back and grab just one ear while waving his hat in the air. This should bring to mind the saga of the mailman and the puppy. The mailman approaches the house only to retreat upon hearing the puppy's mighty bark, only for the mailman to return the very next day to a much more perturbed puppy. The dog and mailman never quite make it as friends. Such was the saga of the bear and the ectomancer.
As the ectomancers were scouting The Drifter, such was the case the other way around. The Drifter had a good laugh at each failure. The bears and The Drifter saw the pattern develop, so they played into the game. The Drifter would do five jumping jacks in front of the bear and an ectomancer trooper would answer in kind looking for the magic formula -- of course ectomancers do not believe in magic.
But in reality, the bears and the Drifter were acquiring much valuable intel on ectomancers -- their thought processes, how long it takes to rebuild one or more importantly how long one stays out of service given a specific injury.
| Author Notes | The High Tundra Drifter plots with the grizzly bears to put a hurt on their adversary and gain valuable intel that will be helpful in the upcoming battle. |
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