Maelstrom

Oops, mea culpa. Title and rating added. Spot on, Travis. Spoiler alert: it is absolutely not a vampire. I will certainly welcome any critiques or corrections of things I get incorrect.

Thanks guys. I have a very loose idea of where I'm going with this and I'm just filling in the blanks. Trying to be as historically accurate as possible.

Title: Tagebuch eines Höhlenmenschen Rating: PG-13 Rated for: I don't expect there to be any sex or graphic violence, but my target audience is definitely not a 12 year-old. Critique level: Critique encouraged Franchise: Science Fiction Chapter 1: Aurignacia I learned how to make the best spears from Neanderthals. To the best of my knowledge, it was the first industrial process. We collected birch and buried it in ash under a fire. The resulting pitch would collect on a rock we placed inside the top of a mammoth skull, and it was an excellent adhesive for our spearheads. I watched a documentary at the start of the 21st century about how the Neanderthals had an amazingly sophisticated method of creating spearheads, and I was impressed that the anthropologist got it mostly right. It took the anthropologist 18 months to perfect the technique; I mastered it during a long winter in a cave in Iberia. It wasn't my first attempt to reproduce it, but I suppose I was always just too busy to really give it a proper go before then. There were about a dozen of us in the cave that winter. In our party, two were Neanderthal, a man and a woman. By that time, they were becoming a much more uncommon sight as most had been absorbed into our various groups. I didn't understand at the time that these were among the last I would encounter, but it wasn't a tragic extinction or extermination as some have portrayed it in history. Our cultures melded together, which saved and doomed them. Our true strength has been our propensity to breed and we slowly pushed the Neanderthal genes into a dark corner of our genome. I still remember the true hybrids, half Neanderthal and half Cro-Magnon: what a sight! The inherent strength of the Neanderthal with the stamina of my kin, they sometimes had the best of both worlds. Slowly, the characteristics faded out of sight and memory, all that is of course but the red hair. Today, they call the cave Cueva del Boquete. They even found a recloir that could have very well been from our party, but of course there is no way for me to know that. We were hardly the first or last to use the caves, but I can still recollect that sound it made scraping against a hide. I visited again a few thousand years later just before the Bronze Age and found the equivalent of hillbillies occupying the site. Of course, pure-bred Neanderthals were all gone by then, or had been pushed to the island of Gibraltar. While I wasn't born in Iberia, I think it's the closest thing to a home I have ever had. I am thankful I wasn't in the region by the time the Phoenicians and Greeks arrived. With their arrival, the serenity of that winter in the cave was extirpated by squabbling warfare. As near as I can tell, I was born in or near modern Germany. It all looks different now of course. I was still very young when we crossed the mountains into Spain, maybe 50 years old although I appeared 30. Of course, I still appear to be in my early thirties. That was my first stint as leader, and as chief of the tribe I lead the hunts. Having the Neanderthals present for those hunts was a blessing. Their strength was incredible, the average Neanderthal could easily bench over 300 pounds without any warmup whatsoever. Jamming a spear through the tough hide of a bison or mammoth was an afterthought, and they could absorb the physical punishment of a charging animal much better than we could. Of course, they were very mediocre at moving swiftly or for prolonged periods. We initially created a system of trade where we hired them to hunt with us in exchange for goods, services, or even arranged marriages. Within a few decades, there was little political distinction between our groups and we freely intermingled and mated. I had a few half-Neanderthal children myself, considering my first few wives had died long before or shortly after crossing into Iberia. My age drew attention for better or for worse. Usually, it was just easier to move on to another group. Considering most people didn't live past the age of 30, it was easier than you might think to not draw a lot of attention. No one was old enough to notice that I was an oddity, and it's not like there were newspapers. I could just go to the next valley over and start anew. Village elders proved to be difficult, but I could always just say I was a relative if they pointed out a similarity. The act didn't really get complicated until the Bronze Age, and I learned early to avoid positions of power. It was much more difficult to start over if I had been particularly successful in leading a band and my fame would spread. Of course, the record-keeping back then was oral, so any fame I accrued quickly died out or became a fantastical myth. All of those stories died out within a thousand years of their last telling. In fact, the stories of the cannibals persisted long before and after the tales of my exploits. They were the boogey-man to our children, the eaters of the dead. Of course, no one had ever seen these demons. I later learned of a species called Homo antecessor that existed in Spain, and I was humbled that their story and myth had lasted for hundreds of thousands of years. Still, youths on their first hunts would peer nervously over their shoulder, ever fearful of a nonexistent boogey-man. I discounted the story as hogwash for tens of thousands of years until reading about the hominid, and it does pique my interest about other stories I've discounted as myths. I'll add more later...

I REALLLY need to get my beard checked for lice. Great stuff, I love this thread.

I love it. I scratched my beard whilst reading this. I envision that the haven smells like leather-bound books, dark liquors, and cigars.

Sitting in a corner, Burt Macklin swirled his drink around in his glass, taking a slow puff on a death stick. In the middle of the bar, a man appeared to be about to expose himself. As Yaki drew his pistol on a barstool, Burt couldn't help but chuckle to himself. With his gaudily ringed chubby fingers, he put out his deathstick directly on the table, popped his collar, and slammed the drink back. Burt couldn't help but observe the lack of Twileks and other playthings. Ah well, I can always just steal something fun out of the pipeline. Burt kicked his feet up on the table and closed his eyes for a nap.

I hit up TBAG a little tonight, just a handful of threads, going to try and get some of rep back. Not all the way, of course, but just try and get the forum going a bit. I sent welcome back PMs to HJP, Zero, and LKN. They all responded basically saying they weren't sure how long they'd stay, but hey, it's cool they showed up.

I combed through some old threads looking for stuff to put into the Hall of Fame.... ...and I realized I lost my edge. I had forgotten what kind of a poster I used to be. I wouldn't even think to post a lot of that stuff now. Crazy. Example A: http://forums.jedi.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=22072 What the hell? How did this even pop into my head?

I didn't really say that! (I don't think?) And yes, you are now roped into this forever, V. The RP made me chuckle....sometimes I think I'm Tom Fairfax to your Oliver Cromwell.

I can't stop laughing. Ohhhh man....that doesn't even seem that long ago, but it really is. I totally warranted an eye rollie on that one. I have zero recollection of writing that, not sure if I was drunk or had my panties in a twist. If I'm ever in a situation where I'm coaching/counseling a user on how to behave, I can definitely use that thread to point out that yes, even jackasses can change their behavior and become something valuable to the site. I cited myself while talking to Travis, but that's pretty good proof. Thanks for calling me out on that, I got a really good laugh out of it.

Good gawd....just read that twice....what the hell. I must have been drunk.

LAWL....TROLOLOLOLOL Touche sir, touche.

The staff has decided to reopen this forum to allow commenting on completed stories. Please post any active stories, random FanFic threads, inquiries, etc. in the Jedi Library.

Hello ladies and gents, Addressing two issues: 1) As some of you have noticed, commas and apostrophes are a little wonky with some of your threads. It has to do with Microsoft Word using a specific type of both, so when it's copied and pasted it confuses our board. It's something we're working on, sorry for the problem. In the meantime, you can obviously just edit those in your posts. 2) We're going to merge the current Library with the Archives. There are a lot of great stories in there, people should be able to comment and critique them. Cheers! Mael

haha effing epic.

My writing solution is to get better at technical writing. From elementary to high school to English Comp 1 & 2, everyone stressed creative writing. Nobody ever bothered to teach me how to write a report, grant application, project proposal, or scientific paper. I am definitely learning the hard way.

Yeah, for the record, we do NOT adhere to the metric post count system.

Did you get those cushions at Pier 1?!

Mael paused, and after considering what he'd say he determined he had nothing to hide. "Was training to become a Jedi, but my Master seems to have left. I came into Theed to buy some new clothes and weigh in on the local politics. How goes the Academy?"

Mael smiled, "I haven't seen Keiran in quite some time." He felt relief that the Jedi held no hard feelings from their previous encounters, and Mael felt some guilt at his actions at the academy. His face lost the smile, "Is that what brings you to Naboo?"

As Mael came up to the waterfalls below the great cliffs of Theed, he slid off the kadu and gazed up at the royal palace. The cliff was fairly extensive and he didn't feel like walking around all the way, but also didn't want to enter the city on an animal. Due to his stint as a raider, he knew of a "path" up the cliff, and through various handholds and ledges he climbed to the top in roughly 10 minutes. Dusting off his grungy clothes, he decided to pick up some new undergarments. He had left his armor back in the hut, doubtful he'd ever need it again. He walked into one of the classier establishments and picked up some brown clothes, and he got a charcoal colored robe to cover him from the weather. As he walked out, he felt the presence of someone familiar, but couldn't quite place it due to his senses not being quit attuned. Tentatively walking into a lodge, he noticed a very familiar figure seated. He froze, and wondered what would transpire next.

After waiting for months at his hut for his master, Mael determined it was safe to say his Master had left. Bored with his stay at his native swamp, he decided to head towards civilization and see what money could be had or business relationships could be achieved. He collected his freshly constructed lightsaber, but left Keiran's hidden in the hut so his master could return and retrieve it. Packing food and throwing his T21 rifle over his shoulder, he wandered through the muck torwards the edge of the swamp. After an hour he came to the beginning of the great plains of Naboo, and succeeded in capturing a kadu. Hopping onto the animal, he rode torwards Theed...

Mael deactivated the saber and hooked onto his belt. He sensed his Master returning, and walking into the clearing to meet him. He looked to have come right in the middle of an intense conversation, and quietly took his place by his Master's side with arms crossed, not wanting to be disrespectful by interrupting. Seeing the other padawan, he nodded in greeting.

Mael sat down on the floor of his hut, examining the deassembled pieces of Keiran's lightsaber. He had stared at the parts for 2 hours, making a mental blueprint. This is truly marvelous engineering. It would have taken Mael years to think of some of the power saving and boosting designs that had been incorporated into this. Mael stripped various parts off of the Y-Wing, and cut it into strips and casing with a cutting torch. He put Keiran's saber back together, but it failed to ignite. Taking it apart, he noticed that he inverted one of the power channeling circuits, and reassembled it successfully. Once he had the basic design down, he assembled a simpler version for himself. Although not as elegant or energy efficient, it wasn't a bad start. For the first time in his training, he had success on his first try, as he ignited the blue blade. Still not satisfied, he spent the next 6 hours incorporating some of Keiran's unique mechanical designs into his saber. Instead of relying on Keiran's intricate and cramped design, Mael opted for a more open and simple design for increased reliability. Once finished, Mael stepped outside and ignited the saber, slowly swining it in wide arcs.

"Sorry for the delay Master, this trip shouldn't be as long. The Gungan city is much closer, I'll give that a shot." He'd take the Y-Wing for this trip. He jumped in the cockpit and lifted above the canopy, and began heading east. Once next to the deep sea, he landed the Y-wing and hopped out. Grabbing a tarp out of the ship, Mael created an air bubble and began to descend. Holding on to a rock, he sank to the Gungan city, and broke through the water barriers. Immediately met by security, they recognized and welcomed him. He was one of the few outsiders allowed, as he had helped them track down a band of Naboo raiders that had plundered their various outlying settlements. After a few conversations with some old acquantances, he preceeded to a stone-cutter. Mael worked the pedal, and got the chiseling wheel spinning. He cut a crystal into a shape that would fit a lightsaber. Examining it closely, he noticed that he had put a crack through it, and attempted again. The second time was a success, and after chatting with a few Gungans, he was escorted via ship to the surface, and departed in his Y-wing back to camp. Landing the fighter in the clearing, he jumped out and entered the hut.