Posts by Ndro

Ndro (n.) - [En-droe] A vaguely out there writing furry who inhabits a corner of the United Kingdom. Possibly against it's will. To answer your questions: Yes, No, Yes, Yes, Milton Keynes, Twice, With ham, Twenty Seven and Borange.

A Matter of Respect

The Fionswood Cemetery was a thoroughly modern solution to a truly ancient problem. As the City of Tarnhaven ballooned ever larger from the influx of people drawn across the nation by the industrial revolution, the graveyards and burial grounds quickly ran out of space. But the dead care not for the tribulations of mortals, and kept piling up without end. Eventually, the problem became so great action was required. After careful consideration a site outside the village of Fionswood, to the south of the city and much further from the coast, was chosen and a grand necropolis was constructed. Deceased Tarnhavenites of every species, culture and creed were accommodated in the carefully landscaped vistas, and their living loved ones were afforded every modern convenience, from heated chapels to gas lighting, there was even an ironroad connection direct to the city. Every day a steady stream of hundreds made the journey south, whether it was to their final rest or simply to visit those who had already departed. 

The cemetery represented something very different for Moren Galag, however, to him it had become an opportunity. The ragged canid watched the rest of his crew as they skulked around one of the lanes of gravestones as if none of them had actually listened to the plan. Like him, they had all once been disgruntled dockers who had drifted towards the petty criminal life, but he was the only one that had any ambition. He had been the only one to get fully behind old Tevar when he had got them the job fetching and carrying for the smugglers, and after the old bastard had… disappeared he was the natural choice for new leader. Now it was clear he was the only one of them who saw the deal they had been getting was skewed heavily against them, and naturally he had a plan to fix that.

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At The Speed of Light – Part 2

The repairs took longer than expected, but eventually Brett was satisfied. As the Pikes Peak restarted its jump preparation, the atmosphere on the ship was one of unease and paranoia. Everyone aboard knew the risks of cutting corners, but no one wanted to attract the wrath of Captain Cole, whose mood had remained foul ever since the problem first arose. By the time the eight hour recharge cycle had completed, he seemed ready to snap. As the ship prepared for the next jump, everyone aboard, Mike included, broke with routine and filed on to the flight deck as if it would be a good luck charm. Compared to before, the Jump was conducted almost in silence, with only the most minimal of interaction between Cole and the ships computer. As ship’s voice counted down to zero, everyone held their breath and crossed their fingers.  The more experienced among them knew that if something did go wrong with a Jump it would at least be quick, but that was little comfort. The clock hit zero…


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At The Speed of Light – Part 1

The shuttle pulled away from its freighter and slow-burned towards its destination. As acceleration-induced gravity took hold of the cabin, Mike Wiggins got his first glimpse of the Tochka Gagarina relay through the narrow viewport. It wasn’t anything special, just a landing gantry with a small centrifugal gravity deck bolted to one end, something of a step up from the work-shack stations that orbited even the most isolated planet, but not by much. Along the gantry was a trio of sleek express courier ships, each a lifeline of interstellar civilisation despite being little larger than the shuttle, and the boxy shadow of a Russian gunship. He fumbled in his pocket and looked over the itinerary sent out by the company a week before. Something big was happening back on Earth, something that needed his presence and specific expertise in person, and it couldn’t wait for the sedate pace of a normal passenger ship. He looked back out the viewport as the shuttle’s own docking rig extended to meet the gantry and sighed. One of those tiny courier ships would be his home for the next few days. He wasn’t looking forward to this.

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The Final, Fatal Fall of Gigantro!

It had been a clear, peaceful early morning in the city when suddenly Gigantro the Terrible, scourge of all mankind, came looming out of the ocean depths. Innocent civilians fled as the monstrous,  back-projected lizard-thing made landfall in what had, up to that point, been a popular resort spot. He cared not that the homes and businesses of thousands were in his way, destroying vehicles and buildings as if they were nothing but unconvincing papier mache props in a cheap monster movie. As he strode across the petrified conurbation like a scaly colossus, his piercing roar echoing off the distant hills to announce his angry progress, striking fear into the souls of his hapless victims and shattering windows a split second too late to be wholly convincing. As he passed deeper in to the city’s coastline, a tower belonging to an overpriced hotel obstructed the beast, and a swift flick of the tail brought it crashing down like so much polystyrene, leaving nothing but smoking rubble. Gigantro truly dominated all he could see, no puny human could ever hope to even slow him down, let alone stop him. Truly all hope was lost to the city.

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2018 Holiday Message

Merry Christmas or whichever winter light festival you and your loved ones choose to celebrate, and a Very Happy New Year, dear Hypothetical Audience, see you all in 2019 to continue our adventures!


On Tumblr & the Woes of Automoderation

So it looks like Tumblr is royally screwing the pooch (possibly bad choice of words) over this “blanket ban on adult content” thats going on over there right now, which seems to have left the site determined to drive a wedge between the service and it’s user base. While the circumstances are different, somewhat depressingly this has revealed its routes in a trend that is common across the modern social media orientated internet, and is simply a new reaction to an existing problem.

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On Continuing

Excuse me a second as I blow the dust off my blogging engine will you? Ahem. There we go.

Hello, hypothetical audience, it has been such a long time hasn’t it? I figured, since this fully armed and operational… I mean URL’d up blog is actually getting some intermittent content from me once again I might as well hammer keys to circuit board and actually blog again, but more on that later. First, since it’s been such a long time since I did this outside of fiction, how are you all?
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The Big Stink – Part Six

Tirran dashed across the muddy yard towards the gate. He realised he didn’t have that long before the man he left on the floor in the hut raised the alarm, so a quick escape was the best option. Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed nine, meaning Scovie should have had just enough time to get back from Inche Street. It was just a matter of not getting killed before reinforcements arrived now. It seemed that every member of the gang was now involved in breaking into whatever sewer ran underneath the yard, leaving an almost clear run for the gate. Even so Tirran tried to keep out of the dull light cast by the braziers, skidding in the mud back around to the side of the cart. The home stretch was in sight, it was just a short sprint and he would have been free. Tirran almost reached the edge of the yard when someone grabbed him from behind and threw him into the mud.

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The Big Stink – Part Five

The day dragged slowly towards evening. Tirran and Scovie had settled into the motions of a stake out, one constantly sat by the window while the other tried to keep an eye on the door just in case and remain sane. A round of half eaten bacon baps comprised of mostly gristle sat on a bed side table. Food was clearly not the pub’s strong point. Scovie had produced a deck of cards from somewhere and they had been useful to pass the time for a while, but Tirran was convinced either the young Constable was a very accomplished cheat or the deck had a few too many primes for his liking. Either way, the dimming light put an end to it, Tirran had decided quite early on that they couldn’t let it look like someone was watching the street and so decided to forgo any form of lighting that could be seen through the windows. Beyond a sliver of light seeping under the door, the entire room was lit only from the window, which now silhouetted Scovie as he sat on watch. Despite being there all afternoon, neither one of them had seen anything untoward out in the street, and the lack of activity was starting to take its toll.

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The Big Stink – Part Four

Tirran dragged his suspect back to the Inche Street Station House in handcuffs. One of the old Coach Houses out the back had been converted into a set of holding cells long ago, its rough iron cages keeping suspects and drunks alike in one place until they were charged and taken along the Gibbetgate Road to the dark, foreboding gaol just beyond the city walls. As he forced the Murid into a cell, Tirran couldn’t help but note the atmosphere of despair the building was soaked in. This simply added to the man’s already visible panic, which was already making it painfully obvious that he hadn’t anticipated quite how much trouble he had gotten himself in. Rather than leave him in the main holding cell alongside the other pick ups from that morning, Tirran directed him into a separate empty cell with solid walls. Even with only a single occupant, the room was cramped… oppressive, lit only by a small barred window out into the yard. As he was pushed into the room, he began to whimper audibly. Tirran ignored him as he undid the handcuffs and left the Murid to stew in his own guilt, slamming the iron cell door behind him.

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