#Mars human settlement

[allpleasuer]

About Mars

About Mars: A Comprehensive Guide ALL PLEASUER Welcome to our in-depth exploration of Mars, the fourth planet in our solar system. This blog post will delve into various aspects of Mars, providing a wealth of information for both novice space enthusiasts and seasoned astronomers. We will cover a range of topics, including: Basic facts about Mars The type of planet Mars is Historical information…

[georgelthomas]

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Would You Move to A Mars Settlement? Explain.

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Would You Move to A Mars Settlement? Explain. #WritingCommunity #WriterCommunity #BloggingCommunity #BloggerCommunity #WednesdayWeeklyBloggingChallenge #Challenge #Wednesday #Mars #MartianSettlement #Colony

Hi everyone! I hope you’re all well. Today is Wednesday, and it’s time for another post in the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge hosted by Long and Short Reviews. If you’d like to participate in the challenge, you can find the list of topics for 2023 here. If you’re interested in reading other people’s responses to this week’s topic, you can do so here. Would You Move to A Mars Settlement?…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kelly and Zach Weinersmith’s “A City On Mars”

In A City On Mars, biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead:

https://www.acityonmars.com/

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that ever aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

Every place we might settle in space – giant rotating rings, the Moon, Mars – is vastly more hostile than Earth. Not just more hostile than Earth as it stands today – the most degraded, climate-wracked, nuke-blasted Earth you can imagine is a paradise of habitability compared to anything else. Mars is covered in poison and the sky disappears under planet-sized storms that go on and on. The Moon is covered in black-lung-causing, razor-sharp, electrostatically charged dust. Everything is radioactive. There's virtually no water. There are temperature swings of hundreds of degrees every couple of hours or weeks. You're completely out of range of resupply, emergency help, or, you know, air.

There's Helium 3 on the Moon, but not much of it, and there is no universe in which is it cheaper to mine for Helium 3 on the Moon than it is to mine for it on Earth. That's generally true of anything we might bring back from space, up to and including continent-sized chunks of asteroid platinum.

Going to space doesn't end war. The countries that have gone to space are among the most militarily belligerent in human history. The people who've been to space have come back perfectly prepared to wage war.

Going to space won't save us from the climate emergency. The unimaginably vast trove of material and the energy and advanced technology needed to lift it off Earth and get it to Mars is orders of magnitude more material and energy than we would need to resolve the actual climate emergency here.

We aren't anywhere near being a "multiplanetary species." The number of humans you need in a colony to establish a new population is hard to estimate, but it's very large. Larger than we can foreseeably establish on the Moon, on Mars, or on a space-station. But even if we could establish such a colony, there's little evidence that it could sustain itself – not only are we a very, very long way off from such a population being able to satisfy its material needs off-planet, but we have little reason to believe that children could gestate, be born, and grow to adulthood off-planet.

To top it all off, there's space law – the inciting subject matter for this excellent book. There's a lot of space law, and while there are some areas of ambiguity, the claims of would-be space entrepreneurs about how their plans are permissible under the settled parts of space law don't hold up. But those claims are robust compared to claims that space law will simply sublimate into its constituent molecules when exposed to the reality of space travel, space settlement, and (most importantly) space extraction.

Space law doesn't exist in a vacuum (rimshot). It is parallel to – and shares history with – laws regarding Antarctica, the ocean's surface, and the ocean's floor. These laws relate to territories that are both vastly easier to access and far more densely populated by valuable natural resources. The fact that they remain operative in the face of economic imperatives demands that space settlement advocates offer a more convincing account than "money talks, bullshit walks, space law is toast the minute we land on a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid."

The Weinersmiths have such an account in defense of space law: namely, that space law, and its terrestrial analogs, constitute a durable means of resolving conflicts that would otherwise give rise to outcomes that are far worse for science, entrepreneurship, human thriving or nation-building than the impediments these laws represent.

What's more, space law is enforceable. Not only would any space settlement be terribly, urgently dependent on support from Earth for the long-foreseeable future, but every asteroid miner, Lunar He3 exporter and Martian potato-farmer hoping to monetize their products would have an enforcement nexus with a terrestrial nation and thus the courts of that nation.

But the Weinersmiths aren't anti-space. They aren't even anti-space-settlement. Rather, they argue that the path to space-based scientific breakthroughs, exploration of our solar system, and a deeper understanding of our moral standing in a vast universe cannot start with space settlements.

Landing people on the Moon or Mars any time soon is a stunt – a very, very expensive stunt. These boondoggles aren't just terribly risky (though they are – people who attempt space settlement are very likely to die horribly and after not very long), they come with price-tags that would pay for meaningful space science. For the price of a crewed return trip to Mars, you could put multiple robots onto every significant object in our solar system, and pilot an appreciable fleet of these robot explorers back to Earth with samples.

For the cost of a tiny, fraught, lethal Moon-base, we could create hundreds of experiments in creating efficient, long-term, closed biospheres for human life.

That's the crux of the Weinersmiths' argument: if you want to establish space settlements, you need to do a bunch of other stuff first, like figure out life-support, learn more about our celestial neighbors, and vastly improve our robotics. If you want to create stable space-settlements, you'll need to create robust governance systems – space law that you can count on, rather than space law that you plan on shoving out the airlock. If you want humans to reproduce in space – a necessary precondition for a space settlement that lasts more than a single human lifespan – then we need to do things like breed multiple generations of rodents and other animals, on space stations.

Space is amazing. Space science is amazing. Crewed scientific space missions are amazing. But space isn't amazing because it offers a "Plan B" for an Earth that is imperiled by humanity's recklessness. Space isn't amazing because it offers unparalleled material wealth, or unlimited energy, or a chance to live without laws or governance. It's not amazing because it will end war by mixing the sensawunda of the "Pale Blue Dot" with the lebensraum of an infinite universe.

A science-driven approach to space offers many dividends for our species and planet. If we can figure out how to extract resources as dispersed as Lunar He3 or asteroid ice, we'll have solved problems like extracting tons of gold from the ocean or conflict minerals from landfill sites, these being several orders of magnitude more resource-dense than space. If we can figure out how to create self-sustaining terraria for large human populations in the radiation-, heat- and cold-blasted environs of space, we will have learned vital things about our own planet's ecosystems. If we can build the robots that are necessary for supporting a space society, we will have learned how to build robots that take up the most dangerous and unpleasant tasks that human workers perform on Earth today.

In other words, it's not just that we should solve Earth's problems before attempting space settlement – it's that we can't settle space until we figure out the solutions to Earth's problems. Earth's problems are far simpler than the problems of space settlement.

As I read the Weinersmiths' critique of space settlement, I kept thinking of the pointless AI debates I keep getting dragged into. Arguments for space settlement that turn on existential risks (like humanity being wiped out by comets, sunspots, nuclear armageddon or climate collapse) sound an awful lot like the arguments about "AI safety" – the "risk" that the plausible sentence generator is on the verge of becoming conscious and turning us all into paperclips.

Both arguments are part of a sales-pitch for investment in commercial ventures that have no plausible commercial case, but whose backers are hoping to get rich anyway, and are (often) sincerely besotted with their own fantasies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Both AI and space settlement pass over the real risks, such as the climate consequences of their deployment, or the labor conditions associated with their production. After all, when you're heading off existential risk, you don't stop to worry about some carbon emissions or wage theft.

And critically, both ignore the useful (but resolutely noncommercial) ways that AI or space science can benefit our species. AI radiology analysis might be useful as an adjunct to human radiological analysis, but that is more expensive, not less. Space science might help us learn to use our materials more efficiently on Earth, and that will come long before anyone makes rendezvous with a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid.

There are beneficial uses for LLMs. When the Human Rights Data Analysis Group uses an LLM to help the Innocence Project New Orleans extract and categorize officer information from wrongful conviction records, they are doing something valuable and important:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

It's socially important work, a form of automation that is an unalloyed good, but you won't hear about it from LLM advocates. No one is gonna get rich on improving the efficiency of overturning wrongful convictions with natural language processing. You can't inflate a stock bubble with the Innocence Project.

By the same token, learning about improving gestational health by breeding multigenerational mouse families in geosynchronous orbit is no way to get a billionaire tech baron to commit $250 billion to space science. But that's not an argument against emphasizing real science that really benefits our whole species. It's an argument for taking away capital allocation authority from tech billionaires.

I'm a science fiction writer. I love stories about space. But I can distinguish fantasy from reality and thought experiments from suggestions. Kim Stanley Robinson's 2015 novel Aurora – about failed space settlement – is every bit as fascinating and inspirational as "golden age" sf:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/11/02/kim-stanley-robinsons-aurora-space-is-bigger-than-you-think/

But still, it inspired howls of outrage from would-be space colonists. So much so that Stan wrote a brilliant essay explaining what we were all missing about space settlement, which I published:

https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html

With City on Mars, the Weinersmiths aren't making the case for giving up on space, nor are they trying to strip space of its romance and excitement. They're trying to get us to focus on the beneficial, exciting, serious space science we can do right now, not just because it's attainable and useful – but because it is a necessary precondition for any actual space settlement in the distant future.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

[zvaigzdelasas]

The U.N. human rights office says in a report published Friday that the establishment and expansion of Israeli settlements in the West Bank and east Jerusalem amount to a war crime.

The report covers the one-year period from Nov. 1, 2022, to Oct. 31, 2023, when it says roughly 24,300 housing units in existing settlements in the West Bank were “advanced” — the highest number in a year since monitoring began in 2017. It deplored an increase in the building of new settlement homes in recent months.[...]

Reports this week that Israel plans to build nearly 3,500 settler homes in three areas "fly in the face of international law,” he said.

Türk said the creation and expansion of settlements amount to the transfer by Israel of its own population into territories that it occupies, “which amounts to a war crime under international law,” his office said in a statement.

Israel's diplomatic mission in Geneva, which regularly accuses Türk's office of overlooking violence by Palestinian extremists against Israelis, said the report “totally ignored” what it said was the deaths of 36 Israelis and injuries of nearly 300 others in attacks due to “Palestinian terrorism” last year.

8 Mar 24

[eilinelsghost]

One thing I can't escape in wrangling with Finrod's complex relationship with the Edain (especially as it is worked out in Atandil, but also generally in the text of the Silmarillion) is how the heart of Tolkien's vision for Elves and the relationship between the First and Secondborn Children can be traced throughout his story, specifically as relates to the First House of the Edain.

Tolkien outlines his general thoughts behind the Elves and their place in Arda in his letter to Milton Waldman where he says:

“The doom of the Elves is to be immortal, to love the beauty of the world, to bring it to full flower with their gifts of delicacy and perfection, to last while it lasts, never leaving it even when ‘slain’, but returning – and yet, when the Followers come, to teach them, and make way for them, to ‘fade’ as the Followers grow and absorb the life from which both proceed.”

Letter 131 to Milton Waldman

The "purpose" of the Elves, then, is to love and lift up the Secondborn and then to hand the world on to them.

In Finrod, we see this from the moment he meets Men in Ossiriand. We are told that he sees them and at once "love for them stir[s] in his heart." He loves them exactly as he finds them, before any interaction with or influence over them. They—the new, the stranger, the unknown other—are lovely and beloved in their difference, fellow Eruhíni in the darkness of Arda Marred.

And from that point onward, he works consistently as a mediator to establish peace and friendship between the various Elven peoples and Men.

He teaches them, yes—in Ossiriand and presumably after as they begin to integrate with Elven settlements—but he is also eager to learn from them as well. We are told this in the intro to the Athrabeth, but more importantly we are shown this throughout the text of that same chapter. He enters the conversation with one mindset and understanding, then leaves the conversation having changed his entire understanding of Arda and its future based solely on what Andreth has taught him of humans' philosophy of their own embodiment. Together they wrangle through the pitfalls of each's position and it is their combined knowledge and understanding which brings about the hope at the end of their conversation.

Finrod embraces this mutual work and discovery and holds to the new-found hope at once. "Await us there," he says in closing, both asserting that he has changed his understanding based on Andreth's words and also placing himself in a position of dependency. It is humans whose nature could bring about this hope of Arda Remade and he does not hesitate a moment in embracing that they, the Followers, would then be "the lordly ones." And he does this with joy and eager anticipation.

The clearest example of how he embodies this vision is also the broadest: his relationship with the Edain begins with Balan—Bëor, the Vassal—and culminates with his oath to Barahir and his sacrifice and death on behalf of Barahir's son. He marks this oath with the crest of his own house, which then shifts from the Ring of Felagund to the Ring of Barahir, by which name it is known for the duration of Middle-earth's history.

Within the brief 155 years that Finrod operated in relationship with Men, the First House of the Edain moves from wanderers to Vassals to Heirs.

And thus Finrod is embodying that very purpose which Tolkien outlined as the doom of the Elves: he prepares the way for the Followers, he willingly fades before them, and he passes the world (his life, his own crest/birthright) freely to their keeping.

[planetformer-central]

Introducing, Opportunity! Inspired by @idiotdriftinginspace's design, Opportunity is the counterpart to Spirit.

Opportunity is the only rover with the ability to handle firearms. She only developed this skill after a specific event led her to raise arms against those who wanted to kidnap and harm her siblings. She's an excellent shot, but hates actually wielding her weapons. She doesn't even like carrying one around unless she is actively guarding her brother, Spirit. She much prefers bringing a taser around when she can, but if Spirit is in danger during his various travels to other settlements to speak on Mars's behalf, she can and will bring her more intimidating blasters just to make a point.

Despite her outward coldness toward more external factions, Opportunity is a loving and excitable rover. She loves to collect interesting items with her siblings and holds a fondness for humans, specifically engineers. She greatly enjoys following her favorite astronaut around when Ingenuity doesn't have the poor man's full attention.

She also holds a deep respect for her elder siblings, Sojourner and Marie Curie. The twins have no clue since they are rather focused on getting up to speed now that they are together, but secretly, Opportunity watches them with awe since they can communicate with Mars incredibly easily.

[mysticstronomy]

WILL HUMANS EVER GO TO MARS??

Blog#417

Wednesday, July 10th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Mars has called to us since ancient times. To humans across the eons, the red-tinted speck glinting in the night sky has garnered special attention, with myths and legends wound around its possible ties to Earth. As we observed Mars with telescopes, this fondness graduated into a scientific fascination.

Within only about the last half century, as science has continued to advance, we gained the ability to land scientific instruments on the Red Planet. Beginning with the Viking probes in 1976 and continuing through the Perseverance rover and its flying companion, the Ingenuity helicopter drone, this robotic exploration has allowed humans to discover complex secrets of Mars.

But this is far from the end of our ambitions. Indeed, humans have planned crewed missions to Mars since at least as far back as the 1950s. Scientists and CEOs alike have crafted intricate ideas to establish a presence on the Red Planet, ranging from small-scale research outposts to major settlements. Elon Musk’s plans to put a million people on Mars stand as a particularly bold example.

Yet even with all the money and influence being poured into the goal of putting boot prints in the Martian regolith, there remain considerable doubts that we will ever actually get there. Between economic and ecological problems mounting here on Earth and the major challenges facing even the most basic mission to send humans to Mars, the impetus to spend the money necessary to fund such an initiative has ebbed with the political tides perhaps more so than any other space mission.

But the fascination remains, and the call of Mars is still as loud as it was to the futurists of the past. There seems to be something of a destiny in this call that makes it all but inevitable that humans will one day step down onto the surface of Mars, much as we once first stepped onto the surface of the Moon.

This history itself is instructive. In the earliest days of the Space Race, many people thought it inevitable that humans would one day set foot on the lunar surface, even if it took decades as opposed to the scant few years promised by visionaries like John F. Kennedy. But the illusion of inevitability is not proof of its existence in fact, as many failed predictions through history have shown.

Even the Moon landings were subject to faulty predictions. The New York Times’ 1920 declaration that rockets could not fly through space due to the lack of air comes readily to mind. Yet on July 21, 1969, two men from Earth stepped onto the surface of the Moon, proving all but the most determined doubters wrong. Will their spiritual successors at NASA and other space agencies one day follow suit on Mars? The first person to step on Mars likely walks among us now, and their moment in history may be coming soon.

Originally published on https://www.astronomy.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, July 13th, 2024)

"WHAT IS THE COLDEST PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM??"

[holymaccaronii]

It’s lore dump time :3 (each day this AU gets even further from looking like it’s inside the ihnmaims universe BUT I SWEAR IT IS!!! IN MY HEAD!!!!)

So euurm these are concept designs for some of the models that I once mentioned in another post, in a few words, funny robots that live in a settlement on the moon and that are divided in a hierarchy. I’m gonna really try my best to explain myself abt this, even with my English, so enjoy!!!1!!

-All the robot units that inhabited this “kingdom” were divided into a hierarchy. The units were named after planets, though the hierarchy didn’t necessarily follow the order of the planets to rank them (from higher to lower ranks of units we have: Sun (HEL-102), 34RTH, M3RCUR1, V3NU2, N3PTUN3, UR4NU2, M4R2, 7UP1T3R, 24TURN, and PLUT0 respectively.)

[Important details to take note of: all robots consisted of a “shell” (empty body parts/model) and inner cables/systems that brought that shell together, thus a robot was able to change models by transferring its cables to another one (similarly to what snails do). We call robots with both a model (shell) and inner cables a unit. We call the shell alone models, and these own the names with both letters and numbers. The ranks are named after the proper name of the planets].

-Units of the hierarchy:

The monarch, HEL-102 (they/he), was considered the “Sun”: supreme leader and the only one to give permissions for any important activities or movements done around. The insides of its body contained the encapsulated remains of his original human body, still alive though unconscious. Although he did have a solid model, they also enjoyed to move around without it as an amalgamation of cables.

The monarch’s closest subordinates that communicated any events to them were the M3RCUR1 (Mercury) units: they constantly supervised the city around and practically were the sun’s secondary eyes. The M3RCUR1 units were the ones to decide if a unit was worthy of keeping its model/rank or not: those who did an inefficient job on their rank could be downgraded to the model of the rank below (with an exception of 34RTH units) forcefully.

The V3NU2 (Venus) units were in charge of entertainment and sometimes tidiness inside the monarch’s palace. They had a lot more liberty to choose the shape of their model. The wax inside them could be colored and dispersed at their will to simulate clothes, and their screens could show a face of a character in order to act in a play. Even so, they also offered many other entertainment spectacles such as circus shows, dances, and even simulations of tv shows.

The E4RTH (Earth) units were considered as high ranks despite them having the N3PTUN3 units as their superiors/caretakers/teachers: they were in charge of supervising the seeds and embryos now stored in a vault inside the moon where the original AI was kept. They were considered valuable as their programs and physical models were being adapted to help humans regenerate Earth’s nature and biodiversity with plenty of strategies and methods (involving plant propagation, care of embryos, etc etc.), + they were built with the materials closest to the core of the original AI. These models were not allowed to access the city itself, and were safely kept inside a dome where they were constantly trained, upgraded and tested for the efficiency of their programs in different situations. For some reason, they weren’t allowed to touch each other either.

The M4R2 (Mars) units were mostly authorities for the army that directed the investigation, recollection and attack missions to Earth. These missions had the objectives to 1: investigate the bowels of AM as much as they could, occasionally the surface too, 2: recollect materials, mostly metals, to replenish most of the models and 3: slowly but gradually attack AM’s systems as their army was exponentially growing. M4R2 models were usually seen in two versions, as one type usually took charge of the investigative missions and the other of the offensive/defensive ones.

… (Missing a few units to draw yet.)

Ok as a last comment now I have a lot more material to doodle with, so expect them being silly very soon (and perhaps serious too). I also wanted to explain their common behaviors and other stuff but I’ll leave that for another post.

[yokowan]

The bus is late. You tug uncomfortably at the mask of your pressure suit. This isn't your first time wearing one by any means, but it certainly doesn't help make the walls of the city leaning in around you feel any less stifling. An old man lowers himself onto the bench next to you. "Y'on't look like yer from here. Mariner Valley?" You reflexively jump in your seat a little, alarmed by the unprompted attempt at conversation. "Y-yeah. How could you tell?" "Ah, all you communists look the feckin same." You open your mouth as if to speak, before electing not to respond.

WELCOME TO MARS MOTHERFUCKERS

It is two hundred and fifty-odd years in the future. Mars, once a cold dead husk, is now a developed world with bustling industry and a contested legal status that hasn't become a problem yet because everyone chooses to ignore it. The planet has slowly been gaining a breathable atmosphere, not through any concerted terraforming effort, but instead because oxygen is produced as a byproduct of many metal refining processes. After over a century of heavy industry, the parts of the planet's surface at low elevation have a high enough atmospheric pressure that crops can be grown in the open air, and humans can survive without needing a pressure suit.

Which parts of the planet become breathable first has a huge impact on Martian socioeconomics, leading me to perhaps my strangest science fiction writing project yet:

THE REGIONAL STEREOTYPES OF MARS

EAT MY TAINT YOU GODDAMN MARINER HIPPIES

Hellas

Hellas is a large impact basin surrounded by the southern highlands. Its very low elevation means it was one of the first parts of the Martian surface to have arable land, and provided the majority of the planet's food before most agriculture moved north. The height of the surrounding terrain traps in moisture, resulting in it being the most lush part of Mars, containing its only wild grasslands. Hellas is the most populous region of Mars, and is home to the planets colonial administrative capital of Badwater.

Hellas' habitability and developed infrastructure means it is the region of Mars most frequently visited by outsiders. Its culture and general appearance have become Earth's main conception of the planet.

Hellas is positioned on the opposite side of the planet to Mars' other major population centers, so overland travel is inconvenient and uncomfortable. This has made it quite culturally isolated, with much of the planet seeing the region's citizens as stuck up, backwards, and blind to the plight of the average Martian. Having the planet's oldest settlements, Hellas' residents view themselves as being the "real" Martians, and hold some resentment towards the rest of the planet for being so weak-willed and forgetting their roots.

Chryse

Chryse is a large, flat plain in the northern hemisphere. Its elevation is mostly not low enough to be habitable to humans without pressure suits, but genetically modified plants thrive in the nutrient-rich alluvial soil. Though Chryse's population is quite small, only having a couple of dense towns located in deep craters, it provides a majority of the planet's food.

Chryse's inhabitants are commonly perceived as easygoing, hospitable and a bit simple-minded. That is, if they are perceived at all. Despite its importance, the region is often forgotten in discussions of Mars.

As its exports are mostly local to Mars and occasionally to the outer solar system, the region finds itself largely isolated from Earth politics. This is a point of pride for its inhabitants, who consider themselves for this reason to be truest Martians, embodying a spirit of independence and self-reliance.

Mariner Valley

Mariner Valley is a system of rift valleys near Mars' equator. Its higher elevation means that it became habitable slightly later than Hellas, but the moderate climate and abundant water make it highly desirable as a place of habitation. Originally it served as a staging point for people and cargo moving to and from mining settlements on Tharsis, but it slowly evolved into a highly developed center for manufacturing and industry.

The region's value as a manufacturing hub which is easily accessible to the outer solar system makes it highly desirable to Earth corporations, who have long been vying for political influence in the area. This is met with resistance from many of the locals, upset that the fruits of their labor are largely spent on the interests of Earth instead of bettering their own planet. Mariner Valley is the nucleus of a socialist independence movement, and is currently under partial administration by the Martial Coalition. This is allowed to exist as it serves to take some administrative burden off of the colonial government and doesn't inconvenience them, though any acknowledgment of its existence is completely informal and under very vaguely defined terms.

Depending on who you ask, Mariner Valley is either a place for well-meaning but starry-eyed and unrealistic idealists, or a rotting trench full of communists. Its anyone's guess, really. Broadly, Mariner Valley sees itself as the future of Mars: real, red-blooded Martians who truly believe in their people.

Tharsis

Tharsis Rise, often simply "the rise", is a massive plateau around the Martian equator. Its high altitude and harsh winds render it uninhabitable. Its valuable deposits of highly accessible ore minerals mean that people live there anyways. A pressure suit is needed to be outside here. At moderate altitudes, a partial counterpressure suit to assist with breathing is sufficient. In the mountains, full body pressures suits are necessary to prevent bodily fluids from flash boiling.

Settlements in this region are largely run by Earth corporations and structured entirely around resource extraction. Despite the huge value of the area's resources, it remains among the planet's poorest. Escaping poverty proves particularly difficult when your boss sets the price of oxygen. Public perception is largely divided, with some people seeing the struggles of Tharsis as a symbol of Mars' oppression, and others seeing it as their just comeuppance for being lazy and reliant on handouts from Earth.

The population of Tharsis is spread out, and apart from a few large settlements with good transportation, isolated from the rest of the planet. They are not linked by kinship nor ideology, but are together in their misery. They're born in the dirt, they work in the dirt, and they die in the dirt. In the dirt, they're one people, and what's more truly Martian than that?

All elevation maps were made with MOLA data using JMARS

[clonerightsagenda]

A major hurdle that must be cleared before we achieve self-sustaining space settlements is determining whether humans can successfully reproduce in those environments. Some animal experiments simulating altered gravity found that rats' testicles sink into their abdomens, which can damage sperm health. An experimental solution for the rats was surgery, but understandably, there have not been human trials. However since Elon Musk is so enthusiastic about his Mars colony I nominate him to take this bold first step/invasive balls surgery for humanity.

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 4)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (3) | Next (5)

Word Count: 2.2k

------ Chapter 4: An Arrow to the Knee ------

Eren had the misfortune of living near the colossal border walls. No humans wanted to be in the shadow of the unsightly structures that marred the natural landscape and reminded them of their own confinement, so settlements on the fringes of the kingdom were sparse. Eren had grown up in the area, so she was used to it. There were advantages to living away from the large farms and the bustle of the cities. Her humble little cottage was surrounded by a forest with abundant quantities of untapped resources. She could harvest fresh mushrooms and berries and hunt for game like rabbits and deer. She also had plenty of room for a modest garden of fruits and vegetables. She appreciated the solitude and extra space. 

Even so, Eren hated to be reminded that she was fenced in on all sides like a caged animal. While she had peace and quiet most of the time, giants were noisy simply by virtue of their great size. Their footsteps frequently caused seismic ripples through the earth. Occasionally, during late nights, the giant guards would get drunk and rowdy, and Eren could hear their deep voices resounding from the other side of the wall as the scoundrels laughed, argued, gambled, and engaged in minor scuffles. She’d have to bury her head under a pillow and plug her ears to get any decent sleep. 

Hatred festered in her heart for giants. She despised them for their arrogant air, their casual cruelty, and their constant oppressive presence. With her being so close to the border crossing, she had personally witnessed giants carrying off distressed humans in cages. They felled trees by kicking them over and scarred the forest by crushing the vegetation underfoot. She’d almost been stepped on once herself, with complete indifference from the offender. They didn’t care about human lives at all and saw them as nothing more than commodities to be exploited, not people. 

Today, she was hunting in the forest, one of her favorite activities. She enjoyed the thrill of the hunt: tracking an animal through the woods, stalking her prey, killing it, and reaping the fruits of her labor in the form of a hearty meal. She discovered a set of fresh deer tracks in a patch of mud and followed them. She spied the distinctive shape of a deer through the trees and slowed her pace, moving stealthily in a crouch until she had a direct line of sight. 

It was a doe with her spotted fawn, grazing on a plot of grass. Eren slid an arrow out of the quiver strapped to her back and raised her bow. She aimed, keeping her hands steady, and pulled the string taut. Just as she was about to launch her arrow straight into the deer’s breast, the earth shook beneath her and disrupted her aim. The deer jolted at the interruption and darted off into the forest. 

Eren cursed to herself with frustration. The ground quaked again, and again, with the rhythm of giant footsteps, several of them. She didn’t have to look far to discern their towering profiles striding towards her. A flock of birds scattered in a panic. 

“Why—the trees are so small!” a deafening voice boomed, echoing through the woodland. The birds swooped past the giant’s pillar of a leg, far thicker and taller than any tree. “Look at those birds!” 

Eren rolled her eyes. Stupid giants. They were so clueless and indifferent to the interruption their mere presence caused as they stomped through the forest. She perceived, with some alarm, they were heading right for her as they stepped over the trees like they were nothing more than tall grass. She dashed to get out of the way, ducking into a bush as an enormous boot clomped down and split a tree trunk straight down the center with a loud crack. Eren shuddered at the raw power on display. The giant didn’t seem to even notice as he kept walking, chattering on in a voice that resounded across the land.  

Their long strides brought them through the area with alarming rapidity. Their footsteps faded as soon as they came. They transformed into distant figures on the horizon, their voices still traveling through the air in a low reverberation. Eren huffed and gritted her teeth, returning her unused arrow to her quiver. She was mad about missing out on some venison, but her rancor over the situation ran deeper than that. More than anything, she felt weak and insignificant, in the face of such overwhelming power. 

She tried to push on through the day and sought out the deer she lost, but they were gone. The giants had disrupted the wildlife and sent the animals into hiding. Her mood soured further. Later on, she caught sight of a rabbit nibbling on some dandelions, unaware of her presence. Her heart quickened with anticipation as she prepared her bow. Yet again, the ground rumbled and the rabbit fled at a breakneck speed. 

“Sir Maneater, are you alright? You seem a bit flustered,” a giant voice cut through the air. “You needn’t worry, no harm was done to the wee lass.” 

Eren swore and glared up at the great behemoths as they appeared far above the treeline. With her bow still drawn, Eren leveled her weapon at the nearest giant in a burst of impulsive anger. Without thinking of the consequences, she shot her arrow. The projectile sailed over the leaves of the trees and bounced harmlessly off his boot as he raised his leg to step over a tall tree. She heard the soft clink of chainmail from under his clothes. 

“I’m fine. A word of advice, Joey, it’s best not to get too attached to humans. Particularly with our purpose for coming here,” the knight wearing the chainmail recommended. He was speaking more to himself than to Joey, as he couldn’t get the cute, tiny blonde damsel out of his mind. He knew it would be foolish to get emotionally involved—yet, he could still almost feel her light weight in his palm, and for whatever reason it made his stomach flutter with butterflies. 

Eren’s temper flared hot at his dehumanizing words, particularly since she was unaware of the context. She had a brief moment to reconsider her actions, but dismissed any caution and nocked another arrow. Her rage encouraged her to be reckless. She knew better than to try piercing chainmail, and instead aimed for the other giant he was speaking to. She aimed far higher and fired another arrow, watching as it sailed in a magnificent arc and planted itself right beneath his knee. 

“Ouch! What was that?” Joey muttered, halting in place. A small spot of blood appeared on his breeches. Eren covered her mouth and giggled to herself, hiding behind the trunk of a tree. Joey deftly pinched the tiny arrow embedded in his skin and plucked it out. “I got a splinter or something in my leg.” He didn’t realize that the microscopic bit of wood was, in fact, an arrow, and tossed the minute sliver away. 

Emboldened by her victory, Eren loaded another arrow and aimed as high as she could. She drew back the string with all her might and released with a twang. The arrow followed an impressive parabola and stabbed into his leg again, this time in the flesh of his thigh just above the knee. 

“Ah! Again?” Joey said. This time, when he pulled the arrow out, he examined it closely. “Hey, this is an arrow! Somebody is shooting at me!” He angled his head down and his glasses caught the sun with a bright flash. His fearsome look made Eren’s blood run cold as she realized she was in danger. She stayed hidden, her heart pounding in her chest. Fortunately, the giant wasn’t able to spot her in the bushes. 

Leon and Sir Maneater shrugged and kept walking, clearly not considering the mini rogue archer a threat. Joey frowned but followed behind them, continuing to sweep the ground with his eyes as he proceeded. The canopy of verdant foliage obscured his view of the ground, however. He felt a tiny droplet of blood dribble down his knee from the fresh wound. It bothered him that a creature so small was able to wound and evade him; his pride as Sir Maneater’s trusty squire was wounded, ever so slightly. 

As the giants stomped past her, Eren experienced a surge of courage and peered out from around the tree. She aimed her bow at the flesh of the giant’s calf and launched a final arrow. Her arrow bit into its target with perfect accuracy, and Eren grinned mischievously. Her grin vanished, though, when the giant spun around with startling speed. He was expecting her to fire again, so he was already on edge and ready to go. Eren didn’t have time to duck behind the tree before his eyes landed on her. 

Her mind went blank with fear and she bolted, just like the rabbit and deer earlier. She couldn’t outrun a giant, however, and he easily crouched down on his haunches and blocked her path with a massive hand exceeding her height, like a wall. She squeaked and dropped her bow as he effortlessly scooped her up into his hand. 

“Hey, what are you doing? Why are you shooting at me?” Joey inquired. “Attacking a giant so rashly could be dangerous for a little human!” He didn’t intend to frighten the diminutive woman, but his voice was as loud and menacing as thunder to her. Thinking fast, she grabbed an arrow out of her quiver and thrust it into one of his fingers. 

“Ah!” Joey gasped with surprise and dropped her. Luckily, she didn’t fall far and managed to land in Joey’s lap without serious injury. Before he could react, she slid down his enormous thigh to a soft patch of ground, sprang to her feet, and sprinted as fast as her feet would carry her. 

“Hold on, wait—” Joey called to her, reaching out his hand, but then he stopped. He could’ve easily grabbed her again, since she was well within arm’s length, but he considered the look of terror on her tiny features and reconsidered. He watched her disappear into the brush, her long black hair flowing off her shoulders. He felt a mild guilt, knowing he had frightened her; it hadn’t been his intention. His regret only deepened when he realized that this was his first real interaction with a human, and he had failed miserably, without regard for how she might feel about being grabbed against her will. 

Joey looked down at his hand pensively, at the arrow poking out of his skin. She hadn’t hurt him that badly. The tip was sharp, but the arrow was too tiny to really cause him significant damage beyond spilling a single drop of blood. He pulled out the thin stick and flicked it away. He noticed the miniature bow in the grass and picked it up gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, so as not to break it. Joey, in his training for knighthood, had handled a bow many times before, and he marveled at how teeny and cute the weapon was, like a toy, while also so precisely crafted. No giant could possibly manufacture an item so small and with such fine detail.  

“Joey, are you coming?” Leon questioned, from several paces off. 

“Y-yeah,” he replied. He carefully set the bow back down where he found it, as tempted as he was to keep it as a souvenir. He stood back up, removing the other arrow from his calf, and rejoined the other giants. 

Eren felt like her lungs were going to pop from exertion as she fled at top speed. She ran as far as she could before her breath finally gave out and she had to stop, flopping down against a fallen log. She gasped for oxygen, sweat pouring down her face. Despite how terrifying the encounter had been, she was exhilarated. She had succeeded, not only in wounding the giant, but also evading capture. She survived, with only her bow as a casualty. 

Despite their godlike size, the behemoths weren’t immortal beings, immune to damage. They could be hurt, which meant they could be killed. Eren grinned to herself wickedly, clenching her hands into fists. She wanted to slaughter them all. She’d gotten a huge thrill out of sinking her arrows into some giant flesh, as revenge for their complete domination of Minimaterra, and their despicable superiority complex. Her resentment escalated into bloodlust as her victory clouded her judgement. 

She no longer felt like some insignificant little bug at the feet of the giants, only worthy of being stepped on. She had agency. She could become a giant slayer, a hero, saving the lives of other humans. She imagined sneaking into the castle and assassinating the giant king, perhaps poisoning him or slitting his throat while he was sleeping. Her thoughts may have been nothing but pure fantasy, but they were rewarding, and comforting to her. They followed her into her dreams that night, and she slept well, despite the obnoxious voices of the giant guards over the walls, echoing from afar. For once, Eren felt she had control over her life, an outlet to vent her murderous resentment. She had hope for the future. 

Chapter 5

[mariacallous]

Would you like to travel in the advance party to Mars, aboard the space rocket of a man who can’t sort a livestream? Ideally you would have to get in line for this species-level honour behind thousands of Earth’s leading shitposters, who not only trust implicitly in X owner Elon Musk, but truly believe that if they grind away for hours a day telling him that on his platform, one day he will see one of those posts. I hope he does, guys!

In the meantime, my favourite recent headline on this interplanetary settlement programme ran “Elon Musk denies his sperm will seed Mars colony”. Sure. It’s just a hunch, but I feel like they’re going to have way more sperm than they need up there. It’s the other bit necessary for human life that you sense will be in shorter supply.

Anyway, from the future of the red mist planet to the future of political discourse: Monday night’s conversation between Musk and Donald Trump on X (audio only, only almost an hour late, and only for massively fewer live listeners than advance estimates suggested). It was so dysfunctional that even Trump’s dentures were trying to escape. Hours after it had taken place, Musk issued an intriguing APB: “Anyone have a <1 hour edit of the highlights of the @realDonaldTrump conversation?” To which the only reply is: sorry … what? That is like NBC putting out a request reading: “does anyone have any highlights of the Olympics?” YOU OWN THE PLATFORM. How can you not have organised some highlights?!

Still, in the absence of his, here are mine. We’ll kick off with Musk portentously informing Trump that “We’re at a fork in the road of the destiny of civilisation”. And ye shall know this fork for it is signposteth with an error screen. In the UK, we have an expression for benchmark incompetence: we say someone couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. But a tech boss being unable to organise a tech event on a tech platform feels like a new industry standard: the brewery’s head of piss-ups being unable to launch a piss-up in his brewery. On Monday night you could watch live footage from any number of bird nesting boxes around the world, but it was impossible to watch any of the would-be president of the United States. That said, I’m afraid both species soiled their floors.

If only there’d been some warning that you could trust X to cock up these live events. Do recall that Musk was previously backing the former Republican nominee candidate Ron DeSantis, and managed to persuade the Florida governor to launch his campaign on X last year. The tech-fail that followed was “a DISASTER!” Not my take, fanfolk, but that of a certain Donald Trump.

Either way, making it audio-only felt less than futuristic. I saw someone say it could have been an email, but it would have worked best as a fax. It wasn’t so much like the tech revolution hadn’t happened, more like the Industrial Revolution hadn’t happened. Hopefully as time wears on, Musk will upgrade his server to a spinning jenny. In the meantime, he would like you to believe that there was some sort of cyber-attack on his ancient looms. He explained to frustrated users that X Spaces had been subject to a “massive DDOS attack”, which strangely didn’t affect any of the rest of X. This is definitely the most self-sabotaging excuse since Katy Perry claimed her recent plastic feminism single was “satire” and “a reset for my idea of feminine divine”. After Monday night, the haters need to understand: Elon’s aural frotting of Trump was satire, and a reset for his idea of masculine divine.

It was certainly a reset for the spectacle of 21st-century power broking. Behold, the billionaire hedge funder Bill Ackman, who recently came out for Trump, and who, on Monday night, could be found replying plaintively to his preferred candidate’s cobwebbed X handle: “Please let Elon know we can’t join”. Posting impotently at a presidential account that Trump has not personally used in three years to bleat that the meeting host isn’t letting him in … I’m sensing that a big part of the reset of the idea of masculine divine is old guys shouting that they can’t make their computers work. Have you tried simply switching the masculine divine off then on again?

Let’s deal only briefly with the eventual contents of Elon and Donald’s fireside chat, as long as we’re clear the fire they were sitting next to was a dumpster, sparks from which had long since set both their pants on fire. “I want to close the department of education,” Trump slurred at one point. According to Trump, Biden was ousted in a “coup”. Hey, at least the Democrats can organise a successful one.

For a genius, finally, Musk’s interview technique is surprisingly like that of a nitwit breakfast host. (Donna Air once asked the Corrs how they met.) He guffawed his way through most of Trump’s ramblings, reserving special admiration for the authoritarians and dictators he’d encountered. Trump mentioned meeting with Kim Jong-un. “That was cool,” gurgled Musk, whose platform is banned in North Korea. “If something happens with this election,” concluded Trump, “we’ll meet the next time in Venezuela, because it’ll be a far safer place to meet than our country.” Fortunately, as is the case with pretty much anywhere ruled by these freedom-loathing strongmen, X is also currently banned in Venezuela. So at least we’d be spared having to glitch our way through another meeting of minds like this.

[dailycharacteroption]

Planar Tour Guide: Negative Energy Plane part 2

(art by SapphireHollow on DeviantArt)

Geography

As we said yesterday, the negative energy plane is mostly a empty black expanse, a void that can never truly be filled. This embodied entropic hunger, which we know as “negative energy” or perhaps “void” energy, sucks at both vitality and matter itself. For unprotected mortals, it is death, one that devours their very soul and their body soon afterwards, and even the undead are not truly safe, with some losing their bodies after millenia of erosion until their souls too are devoured, leaving behind a negative impression that in time too will fade. However, there is still terrain and features if you know where to look.

Perhaps the most “common” area of permanent matter are the metaphorical “edges” where the plane brushes up upon others. These vast reaches of barren rock are pitted, cracked, and corroded, and are a metaphorical and metaphysical representation of how The Nothing erodes at every part of the cosmos it can reach, with pieces breaking off constantly to drift away until consumed entirely by the void.

While some of these pieces break down entirely, some become islands of refuge, particularly for those that wield magic powerful enough to hold the consuming effects of the plane at bay. Mortals trapped on islands of matter pulled from the material plane, huddling around a magic artifact to survive, as well as the private domains of particularly morbid mages and liches fall under this category.

There are, however, some well-known locations, such as the planet-sized crystalline sphere known as Eternity’s Doorstep. Despite being named by the sceanduinar, they know not it’s origin or purpose, but it’s effects are well-known. Undead that get too close are drawn to it by an insidious siren’s call, until they are pulled in, their souls ripped from any body they have left and pulled into the sphere, pulled deeper by shadows inside the sphere. The cryptic messages carved into the sphere’s surface, as well as the fact that it seems to be a congregating point for devourers, the one type of undead that seem immune to the call, suggests that this edifice may originate outside the Great Beyond, a creation of the same force that turns evil souls that venture beyond the cosmos into devourers as well.

Another massive edifice is Fallen Duromak, one of two planets drawn directly from the material plane. Evidence of a great war between daemon and devil-kind mar the surface, with only a cryptic message in a former temple of Pharasma hinting at what might have happened. Either way, it represents a treasure hunter’s dream. A world of relics, but one guarded by a population of undead, including nightshades aplenty made from the fiends pulled into the Void along with the planet.

On a smaller scale is the settlement of Malikar’s Keep. This castle and surrounding hunk of earth would be little different than any other sinister extraplanar lich’s lair if not for the fact that Malikar also maintains a population of living humans within the protection of his magic. Despite being stuck in one of the worst places in the cosmos to be, Malikar treats the mortals under his care relatively well for a despot, expecting them to serve him as needed as he keeps them alive.

And then there are sceanduinar cities like Xul Karanith, formed of twisting and spiraling masses of crystallized entropy. Where the bat-like crystalline creatures cultivate the crystals that give rise to their own kind as well as variants, not to mention where spheres of annihilation grow like fruit from such masses.

With examples like these, there is a lot to be said about the dangers and horrors of the Void. The very properties of the plane sap life from mortals, with only a rare few places being of a minor negative trait. Naturally, these properties inhibit healing magic while strengthening hostile necromancy. However, the gravity of the plane is subjective, making those able to protect themselves able to move about fairly easily.

That, of course, assumes that the traveler doesn’t run afoul the undead or anti-alive entities in Entropy’s Heart, but we’ll be covering those horrors in the next entry. Look forward to it tomorrow!

[hezzabeth]

"I don't think that's it. Here, let me show you something," Revati said, gesturing for her sister to follow.

Dityaa, who always found silence terrifying, spent the brief walk chattering away.

"I don't know if I should continue things with the Duke; he is adorable and very sweet, but I've been stabbed and bruised," Dityaa said, more to herself than to Revati.

"Exactly," Revati agreed.

"Of course, it would be nice to live in a romantic villa with a wardrobe filled with gowns," Dityaa added, touching her dress.

"You do love gowns, and that one is starting to look a bit shabby," Revati smirked.

"Don't judge me for liking feminine things! You act like a warlord but you still make lipstick out of ash and oil," Dityaa snapped back.

"I don't judge you for being girly! I judge you because you spend your life acting like one of the drunk moths hanging around our lampposts," Revati argued as they turned a corner.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Dityaa demanded.

"You go to balls and seduce dukes, ignoring the fact we are trapped here for the rest of our lives!" Revati said. It was something she had thought many times but never said. Mars had been long ago terraformed in pockets with massive stretches of freezing wilderness between countries and settlements. Older Landon had been built miles away from the nearest city in the middle of an AI machine zone. The only way to reach the park was, of course, by driving or on a high-speed floating train.

"I don't ignore it; I remember more than you do! I remember us running towards the gates trying to get the last train out! I remember watching people leave the park on foot thinking they could walk to the city," Dityaa replied. Sometimes, the Hardi brothers would discover the old bodies of tourists frozen solid in the wasteland. They would, of course, rob them and then rush back towards the park before night fell. Sometimes late at night, Revati could see the distant city lights. It didn't change the fact it was still a day's walk away.

"What's that?" Dityaa suddenly asked, stopping her tirade.

Dityaa had spotted the Android.

"I have no idea; it said it was looking for its daughter," Revati admitted as Dityaa stooped down at the Android curiously.

"Daughter? Can androids have a baby?" Dityaa asked.

"I suspect it was a human using the Android as a surrogate. The voice didn't sound like an AI appliance," Revati admitted.

"It looks familiar, doesn't she?" Dityaa asked.

"It looks exactly like the portrait of the lost princess in Whistleton," Revati said as Dityaa carefully touched the Android's face.

"No, it's more than that," Dityaa said in a soft dreamy voice.

Revati merely leaned down, grabbing the Android's broken legs.

"Go get the balloon cart and push it back here," Revati said.

"You're not thinking of taking it back home, are you? Amma will kill you," Dityaa protested.

"Obviously I'm bringing it back! I need answers," Revati snapped back, and Dityaa marched off.

The second she vanished around the corner, the Android's metal eyes fluttered. Its hand tried to grab Revat's wrist before falling dead once more.

******

A forest had engulfed Baker Street. A romantic, sunlit forest with twisting trees covered in puffy, bright yellow blossoms bursting from upturned cobblestones. Dotted among them were smaller, dark trees heavy with bunches of magenta berries. Two of the feral children had already attacked the berries, their lips a deep purple.

Dityaa stopped helping Revati with the popcorn cart and started skipping towards the children. Revati sneezed loudly as the pollen hit her nose. She hated to admit it, but it was all rather pretty.

A few feet away, Brigadeiro was working outside the greenhouse along with the school students and Dusk. Mrs. Gupta was glaring at them with firm disapproval. “Does that fool have any idea how much water plants use?” She grumbled to Revati, who was pushing the cart towards everyone.

“I told you, Mrs. Gupta, these are all drought-resistant native Australian plants,” Brigadeiro replied as he stooped over an upturned cobblestone, spraying the mud below. There was a faint rustling sound, and a bush burst from the earth. The bush had peculiar finger-like mint-green leaves. Seconds later, it was covered in hot pink fleshy fruit.

“They look like your hair,” Revati remarked, faintly startled by the entire thing. “Here, try one,” Brigadeiro replied, picking a piece of fruit and handing it to Revati.

“I was only gone for less than an hour! You’ve turned the entire street into a jungle” Revati pointed out.

[caputvulpinum]

An old Prasadi proverb says that "Creation's bones are scarred with war; there is no farmer's field that has not been watered with soldiers' blood." An exaggeration, but surely only just. If the Essence of battlefields and death could more readily be soaked in the succor of Mars or Saturn, perhaps there would be no need of the Salt Gardeners; alas, the stars are far more distant and sparse than the appetites of the Dead, and so Creation must find its own ways to prevent shadowlands from breaching the skin of the world.

Unlike the Ifrit or the Quanshi, the Salt Gardeners--though elementalists and wild-witches often call them by their proper names, the Washio-Shiok--are simplistic and humble, liminal creatures. Formed of mud or gravel into the crude shape of slugs as tall as a human child, the Washio-Shiok come to the surface of a battlefield after a period of rain which compacts the ground and gluts the soil with fallen blood. These creatures then live for scarce more than a day as they ooze and crawl across the surface of the earth, seeking each other to perform something akin to mating as they burrow back beneath the dirt. The Salt Gardeners get their name from the slick trails they leave behind them, a slurry of rainwater and condensed salt deposits soaked up from the surrounding soil. As the trails dry, the salt remains, which acts as crisscrossing barriers and banes to the Dead. Though this protection is only temporary, often it is at least enough to alert nearby settlements of the need for proper consecration of the area.

Obscurity (1/3/5): The salt of the Washio-Shiok is a naturally forming bane and barrier against the Dead; it is of no surprise that it is valued and collected as a material common for exorcists and spirit-leaders. Thanks to the relative common nature of the Salt Gardeners, their salt is rather cheap (at least relative to the usual prices of magical materials), though it is frequent practice to further consecrate and purify it to even greater use than its more raw states.

Clever elementalists might seek to summon the Washio-Shiok themselves in a time of drought or if they are unable to naturally form in an area due to some form of interference against Fate preventing their births, but their usage as elemental servants is limited in the extreme. They seem to barely contain sapience and struggle to follow orders given through sorcerous binding. Additionally, training is not considered as pragmatic or possible due to their exceedingly short lifespans.

That said, though knowledge of it is exceedingly rare, the results of the Salt Gardener's "matings" would be of significant value to not just exorcists but necromancers as well, for the Washio-Shiok gather up any seeds of Deathly Essence as they drag themselves across the ground and through the earth and wrap it in protective layers of nacreous Earth Essence. These seeds take the shape of pearlescent black spherical "eggs" which very easily decompose back into Earth Essence, spreading the necrotic taint safely through the various rivers and channels of the Pole of Earth beneath the soil. Such a mixture would make an excellent offering to the deified dead or other powerful ghosts, and they are sometimes compared to demesne tokens.

[praetorqueenreyna]

lovely and lonely, Tamlin/Lucien, chapter 15

Read below, or click here to read on AO3!!

(Click here to start from the beginning)

***********************************

5 weeks after the curse

In no time at all, the soldiers of Spring established a schedule. Every day, one of them would cross the Wall and roam the human lands. Andras had the idea that they should be turned into a beast that humans feared and hated almost as much as the fae, to entice them towards violence. They were instructed to growl and behave aggressively, but not to harm anybody. At dawn, Tamlin would meet them in the courtyard. He’d place a hand on their forehead, a blessing as well as a thank you, and transform them into a wolf. Although it was long before most of them had to be awake, Lucien and the other sentries were always present. The grief in Tamlin’s gaze as he sent the transfigured fae into the woods compelled them all to be there, lending whatever support they were able.

Tamlin hated sending his sentries out as bait, but he grew extra surly whenever it was Lucien’s turn. Every time, he asked if Lucien could skip it, and every time, Lucien declined.

“There’s no point in you going out anyway,” Tamlin complained. He was braiding Lucien’s hair before his transformation, which made it easier to manage post-wolf.

“What do you mean?”

“I could never love somebody that killed you.” Stated as an obvious, immutable fact. He finished tying the end of Lucien’s braid and resorted to smoothing his hands across his forehead, sweeping around his ears to the back of his neck.

Lucien, throat clogged with emotion, couldn’t speak. He leaned back against Tamlin and closed his eyes, savoring what could be their last few moments together. The soothing brush of Tamlin’s fingers in his hair grounded him.

In the courtyard, in front of everybody, Lucien received no special treatment. He kneeled before his High Lord, and the hand that Tamlin placed on his head was devoid of his earlier warmth. The transformation was painless, and Lucien did his duty as well as anyone else. He sniffed out the nearest human settlements, he chased their children and he slaughtered their sheep. He prowled around the women, snarling furiously, hoping that one of them would be brave enough to strike against him. Despite what Tamlin said, Lucien knew that if he were gone, the curse would be broken far more easily.

Each time Lucien returned, Tamlin embraced him and fucked him like it was their first time. Whatever affection he withheld in the morning was returned tenfold in the evening, when they were alone and together again.

2 months after the curse

Tamlin rolled one of the innocent-looking red berries between his fingers. “Have you tried them before?”

“A few times.” Witchberries were potent, and usually caused a wicked hangover. Lucien had indulged with Andras and some of the other warriors, and had mixed results. It had come up that Tamlin had never had them, and so Lucien had dragged him outside immediately to pick some. He did have an ulterior motive: everything was going terribly. Fae were pouring out of Spring Court, seeking refuge in other courts or retreating to under the mountain to curry favor with Amarantha. There had been no luck with the sentries so far; all the women they encountered as wolves screamed and ran away. Tamlin was barely sleeping, dark circles marring his beautiful eyes. He needed a distraction.

“How many should I take?”

“Start with one, then see how you feel.” Before either of them could chicken out, Lucien popped one of the berries in his mouth. His tongue was flooded with a deceptively sweet taste; any fool who didn’t know the effect of the fruit could eat a huge quantity before realizing what a mistake they had made. Never one to be outpaced, Tamlin followed suit.

Half an hour later, they were both giggling on the ground. The berries made one euphoric, light-headed, and unsteady. The ground had rolled under Lucien’s feet in a very disagreeable manner, sending him to his knees. As he prepared to attempt to stand up again, Tamlin had fallen against him, sending them both tumbling into the grass. Lucien laughed until his sides ached and tears spilled out of his eyes. He looked over at Tamlin, who was glowing. Either the hallucinogenic properties of the berries were giving him a golden aura, or Tamlin had let his glamour slip. Either way, Tamlin shone, even in the bright midday sun.

“Golden prince,” Lucien murmured. He reached out on hand to brush the back of his fingers against Tamlin’s cheek.

“What’s that?” Tamlin caught his fingers in his own hand and kissed them.

“The first time I saw you, that’s what I thought.” To Lucien, his own voice sounded very far away. “You visited Autumn when I was a child. I thought you were so handsome, and you were so kind to me. A golden prince.”

Tamlin hummed thoughtfully against Lucien’s hand. “I don’t remember that.”

“I never forgot.” Lucien rolled over on top of Tamlin, laying against his chest. As he kissed his High Lord, the grass around them turned to rolling waves. They were in the middle of the ocean, completely alone.

4 months after the curse

Lucien could see the moment that Veer was killed. Him and Tamlin were eating in Tamlin’s office, taking a quick break from the endless mountain of work that they had to do. The apple that Tamlin had been preparing to take a bite out of dropped from his hand and fell to the floor with an ominous thud. His eyes widened and his skin paled.

“What’s wrong?” Lucien was scared, plain and simple. He had never seen Tamlin react like this before.

“Veer is gone.”

The words hit Lucien like a punch to the gut. After months of sending soldiers to the human realm daily with no change, they had grown lax. Lucien had joked with Veer as he was transformed into a wolf, never dreaming that it would be the last time he would see him.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it.” Tamlin’s gaze was empty, his green eyes clouded over. “He was trying to provoke a young woman to attack him. A man surprised him, came out of nowhere. He was looking for her. He had an axe.”

There was no need for him to continue. Lucien could see it playing out in his own imagination. Veer, focused on his goal, missing the human man creeping up behind him. The man rising up and swinging the axe before Veer even knew he was there. Only the most brutal wound would be enough to kill a High Fae. It was likely that Veer had been beheaded, then butchered and consumed.

Lucien felt sick, but he had to ask. “And you’re sure it was a man that killed him?”

“Yes.” Tamlin’s mouth tightened in a line. “I’m sure.”

Veer had been funny. Foul-mouthed, but good-humored. He had been one of the first sentries that welcomed Lucien to Spring Court. He entertained them with ridiculously exaggerated stories that made them all forget the hardships of being a soldier. And now he was gone.

Lucien rose to his feet. “I’ll tell the others. You should eat.” He pushed a plate of food towards Tamlin.

“I’m not hungry.” Tamlin ignored the food and hunched over his desk. He picked up a pen to continue writing, but his claws shot out and sliced it into three pieces. He growled in frustration, and Lucien worried that all of their paperwork was about to be shredded to pieces. Instead, Tamlin shoved his chair away from his desk and strode past Lucien. “I’m going out to patrol. I’ll be back at sundown.” Lucien had no choice but to watch his love walk away from him, helpless to fix what had been irreparably broken.