The Starsprite

Wanted to let everyone know that I intend to get the Starsprite up and running again. It's been a hectic summer and even more so September, but after my SAT next Saturday I should have some free time to do some articles. At the very least I can post comments as well as whine and complain to you all, right?

Feel free to send me any suggestions, comments, an article you'd like to see, special event you'd like posted, etc. to my e-mail address, starsprite@browncoats.com. Take care everyone and see you on the 10th.

-Kris

Lavender eyes flash in the night
Soft, silent footsteps echo through the earth
White mane flows behind
As the Hunter prowls

Pointed ears hear prey
Heat-sensing eyes see prey
A wicked smile forms on his lips
As he readies his blades of death

Curved blades rest in sweaty palms
Coiled legs ready to make the kill
All with a Twinkle of light, ready to deliver Icingdeath
As the Hunter pounces

Steel flashes in the night
The fall of a body echoes through the earth
The deed is done
And the Hunter stands victorious

A snarl is released into the air
As he shows his satisfaction at the kill
Violet eyes spark with a purpose
As the Hunter continues his hunt

Fluid as darkness
The Hunter stalks his prey
A flash of keen light
Leaving only death in its wake

One by One and Two by Two
Ten by Ten, One-Hundred
None can withstand the Hunter’s blades
All die before the Lone Drow

Justice, Honor, Love
The Hunter knows not these words
However they guide his blades
Strike after Strike, Kill after Kill

The Hunter is a Monster
A Monster with a hidden cherub that whispers into his ears, “don’t kill this one,”
And the Hunter listens
But still he lives for the kill

Hands tremble, knees buckle
Blades droop to the ground
Quickly followed by their master
As the Hunter releases his victim

Tears well in lilac eyes
Fists clench in anger
A scream of rage fills the air
For the Hunter will return

By now I’m sure you all have figured it out. At the current rate of delays the site will never get updated so I have decided to slow down the rate of stories.

As long as my workflow remains constant the Starsprite update schedule will move back to once a month.

Currently in the works: Review on Terry Pratchett's Discworld, Star Trek: Enterprise, and E-mail roleplaying games.

I apologize for all of the inconveniences caused by this. Until the next update try checking out www.legendaryfrog.com, an excellent flash film site. Enjoy!

-Kris

I apologize for the lack of an article last week and this week but a lot of work has come my way and I have been to busy shifting through it all to write an article.

I will try to have something ready by next Saturday.

Until then here is a list of outstanding webcomics to give you something to read the next post.

Enjoy!

-Kris



Some of these great webcomics include Real Life by Greg Dean: http://www.reallifecomics.com/ , a comic about a group of friends and their “real life,” while Dean sometimes fails to live up to the name of the comic, the jokes which he draws from his observations of his friends and himself are amusing.

The sensational Schlock Mercenary http://www.schlockmercenary.com/ by Howard Taylor is about a group of space mercenaries in the future, Taylor’s humor is a little harder to grasp and his comic actually has a plotline and, since the beginning, his work has been punctual, updated every day with a new comic.

The online manga Megatokyo by Fred Gallagher and Rodney Caston: http://www.megatokyo.com/ has a Japanese anime style of art that gives it a unique look. Megatokyo is about two gaming fans, Piro and Largo, going to Japan and getting stuck there when they overcharge their credit cards and spend all of their cash on gifts. From there the comic features many misadventures of the pair trying to get home.

The comic for the essential role-player, RPG World by Ian Jones-Quartey: http://www.rpgworldcomic.com/ takes place inside a video game and showcases several fantasy-based characters as they adventure through their world. Quartey’s jokes focus on the behavior of many role-playing video games, his comic contains a complex plot that sometimes detracts from the humor and sometimes adds to it. The site also include includes a sidebar filled with numerous webcomic addresses.

One of the newest webcomics I picked up on is Dominic Deegan by Michael “Mookie” Terracciano. Dominic is a grumpy seer who is forced to contend with all manner of problems. The comic has a D&D flavor about it and an outstanding plot. However some of the jokes do get old with Mookie’s tendency to repeat the same one for several strips.

I finally have a starsprite mailbox set up. Feel free to send any comments or suggestions to starsprite@browncoats.com

-Kris Chester

First off I would like to wish everyone a Happy Valentines Day. Now on to bussiness.

The following post is a little different than usual. This week my English teacher assigned her class a short story to write, about the great depression, or more accurately the Dust bowl.

Obvious I wrote a story (6 pages to be exact) and I thought I’d share it with all of you. While it’s not exactly science fiction or fantasy I believe it’s a solid piece of writing. Perhaps in the future I can post other short stories, maybe even some that are actually about fantasy or sci-fi ^_~.

The following story is entitled “Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand,” (yes, as in part of the Firefly theme’s lyrics) it is about two elder gentlemen in California the “promise land” seeking work and plotting for revenge. Anyone who has read John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath will be better equipped to understand where a lot of my inspiration came from.

Well, hope you enjoy it. Starsprite will be back to a normal article next Saturday.





“Tap, tap-flop, tap, tap-flop,” rang forth the squeaking of well worn leather soles as their owner continued his long march to find work in the land of the promise, California.

The owner of these noisy shoes was Benjamin Reynolds an ex-farmer of Oklahoma, forever dubbed an “Okie” by the local inhabitants. Reynolds looked across at his cohort, Mr. Augustus Smith or Ol’ Gus, as he was better known.

“Looks like rain tonight’,” Ben stated, looking up at the cloud free sky, the topic of weather was one of the pair’s more interesting subjects especially when they enveloped it in fiction.

“Yep, snow too!” Gus exclaimed with a wide grin on his face. “Though I woul’ prefer it if it rained gold coins instead.” The elder man added.

Reynolds replied with a big sigh, “Me, I would settle for a loaf o’ bread or two.”

“That ain’t nothin, I would settle for a slice.”

“Fine then, a crumb.”

“Jus’ the taste of God awful moldy bread.”

“Well, Gus, you got me there,” Ben admitted with another large exhale. “Now that’s just the problem with all the other poor saps out there. They fight for lower wages, not higher.”

“Yeah, but they is hungry, and how else they supposed to feed their families? Huh, Ben?”

“I don’ know Gus, I just don’ know . . .”




About four miles down the roadway Ben stopped, pointing out for Gus a large billboard in the distance.

“What’s this crap?” he asked as he strained his tired eyes and cracked spectacles to read the sign.

“Next time, try the train, Relax” read the sign

“Now that’s bull,” Ben stated.

“Wha’s it say?” asked the ever-inquisitive Mr. Smith.

“Nex’ time, try the… train, relax. HA! Ain’t that a laugh?”

Gus hooted forth a laugh. “Yeah, if only dear Marsha could have seen it, the dang slave drivers advertising their own luxuries. I say we tear it down.”

Ben replied, “Nah, ain’t worth it. Too big and we ain’t got enough tools. Maybe the next one.”

“Still, somebody’s got to teach these slave drivers a lesson before they kill us all.”

“Yep, but it ain’t gonna be these old bone nor those,” Ben stated while gesturing at first himself and then Gus. “Now if my boy were still alive, then he’d take the fight to um, they wouldn’ last through the night!”

“Yeah, but that’s what I’ve been sayin’, they took my Marsha and Emily from me and your Robby an’ Julie. Cheap bastards.” Gus whined out.

“Well it ain’t nobodies fault but our own. If I had done a better job then both Julie and Rob would still be alive. Blaming the bank or even the damn Californians won’t do either of us any good, understand?”

“Yeah, but . . . wait . . . what was that?” Gus asked his wizened ears perking up.
Reynolds stopped, using his old ears to detect the noise of a car motor. While many a car had passed by the pair throughout this day and every other day before this car in question was peculiar. By peculiar it can be said that the car was not a car at all, but rather a truck or some other large and equally unruly vehicle.

Both men turned and saw a large gray pickup truck approaching them, coming to a halt several feet away.

Curious, both men ventured over, Ben popped his head threw the rolled down window on the passengers side.

“Good mornin’, Mister!” Ben greeted attempting the closest thing to a cheerful look on his wizened features.

“Good morning yourself, Grandpa,” answered the young driver at the wheel. “Got somewhere to be?” he brusquely asked the men.

“Why? You offerin us a ride, young fella?” Ben questioned.

“Sure, if it’s not out of my way.”

“Good, we’ll take you up on your offer then. Name’s Ben Reynolds; this here’s Gus.” Ben replied.

Gus undertook his own attempt at a less grim façade before hopping into the cluttered bed of the truck. Ben shrugged and slid up into the passenger seat. “And who are you, young fella?” Ben asked, as the vehicle started moving along.

“Samuel Tomas Jr. Though people usually call me Deuce,” the driver answered.

“Nice to meet ya, Deuce,” Ben replied.

“Tap… tap… tap…” Gus knocked on the rear window of the truck, pointing down at a recently uncovered array of firearms lying on a thick wool blanket.

“Uh…. I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m off hunting?” Deuce asked, nervousness creeping into his adolescent voice as Ben turned a stern look his way.

As Ben slid open the window, Gus poked his hairy, bearded head into the cabin and asked, “I don’ suppose we can borrow a couple to kill some Californians?”

“Wha- really? That’s ironic because my pa and I have been thinking about the same exact thing….”





The threesome talked about a great many topics on their way to pick up Deuce’s father, Samuel Tomas senior. Finally Deuce pulled the truck to the side of the road, asking Ben to move over. Reynolds watched with anticipation as a little shriveled man, leaning on a wooden staff walked out of the shrubbery and approached vehicle. The small man opened the door and hopped into the seat beside Ben. “Now who the hell are you?” he candidly asked.

“Benjamin Reynolds, an’ you would be Sam,”

“Tap . . . tap. . . tap,” marked Gus’ introduction.

With a swipe of his hand Ben opened the back window. “Can’ we jus’ go shoot them Californians now?” pleaded the fifty-four year old.

“And this woul’ be Gus,” Ben said with a sigh.

Sam began his interrogation by asking, “So what have you two got against the Cali’s?”

“Them bastards killed my kin. Marsha, my wife and Emily my daughter,” Gus boldly proclaimed.


“I see. And you Mr. Reynolds?” Sam asked, dignity reflected in his voice.

Ben was too busy thinking of the consequences of any action the group took against the Californians, after all the last thing he wanted was for Gus and himself to end up in prison.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Repeated Sam.

“Wha-? Oh, the Californians are the cause o’ of my family’s death too. Couldn’ get no work and that meant no food and no food which means they go the way o’ the dust,” explained the evicted Oklahoman farmer.

“I can relate to that gentlemen, I assume my son has expressed my propos-“ Sam began only to be cut off by twin beams of dazzling light accompanied by the steady thrum of a forthcoming motor.

The vehicle pulled up alongside theirs and it was only then that a swear escaped Gus’ lips. The other vehicle belonged to Californian state police.

“Be calm, gentlemen,” Sam ordered quietly.

As the impending crunch of booted feet grew louder Deuce started quivering at the wheel, Gus shuffled in the back of the truck, and Ben remained still, silently thanking God for the officers intervention. Ben had never wanted to kill Californians and had always abhorred Gus’ fascination with revenge.

“Good evening, fellas, can we help ya?” The officer questioned.

“Not at all officer, we were merely reminiscing about old times,” Sam explained.
The cripple’s vocabulary plainly confused the officer as he turned to his partner, still seated in the car, for help. It was at this time that Gus panicked. The man drew out of the blankets a long barreled rifle, swiftly connecting the butt to his shoulder and firing at the officer, nearly clipping him in the ear.

The trained law enforcer rolled to his left, flinging dust and gravel into the air as he reached for his sidearm.

Deuce likewise panicked, hitting the gas pedal as hard as possible, accelerating the car faster than an Okie could lose work.

Shots rang forth in the dark as Californian cops fired at the retreating truck. The foursome had only made it a few hundred yards when Deuce wildly swerved, flinging the truck headlights first into a nearby ditch.

Ben could feel himself fly forward, connecting hard with the dashboard. He also heard the launch of numerous projectiles from the bed of the truck over the top and out of the ditch. The guns, Ben thought.

The youth began to hyperventilate as Ben pulled his head slowly back from his collision with the dashboard. With a groan of discomfort Ben checked the condition of his fellows. Deuce was grabbing at his chest, paralyzed in place. With a turn of his head Reynolds saw the corpse of Samuel Tomas senior, the shriveled man’s head positioned unnaturally against the dash.

Ben shuddered before bringing his neck around to look out the back. He was surprised to find Gus nowhere in sight. Then a thought entered Ben’s head, people could be projectiles too.

Panic bounded up and down his spine, he pushed and scrambled his way past Deuce into the ditch itself. Quickly standing he located Gus, laying spread eagle on the ground, nearly a dozen yards away.

Hope leaped into Ben’s throat when a stifled groan echoed from the downed man. With a quick check he confirmed his friend was ok, injured, blood spread across his face, but ok.

“Damn Calis,” moaned Gus, more wounded in pride then physically.

“Don’t worry ‘bout them, we just need to get you out of here,” Ben informed his friend as he lifted him onto his worn leather soles.

“Fine, but later on we’re comin’ back for some o’ them buggers,” proclaimed the weary Gus.

Ben heard three things, the approaching police force, Gus’ complaining and the beginnings of rain. The sweet, sweet rain started trickling down his back as he moved his friend along.

“Now ya ole fool, we ain’t doing anything like that again, I swear to God if I even see you thinkin’ ‘bout going back there then I’ll knock your head around faster than you can swear,” vowed Ben, as he tried to keep his friend thinking about freedom, not the undoubtedly catching up police force.

“I don’ see what your problem is, Ben. We is still free,” Gus informed his friend, trying to be optimistic.

“For now, but fer how long?” Ben asked, looking over his shoulder as the officers came within sight, guns pointed in their direction.

“Well Gus, it seems like we have a little luck after all. You’re gonna get a good doctor to fix you up and we’re both gonna get a hot meal,” Ben said, a smile spreading across his normally grim features.

Duel combatants rotate their blades flashing through a complex series of parries and thrusts, whipping the sharp steel in their hands around in hopes of placing a razor tip against their opponent’s throat. After several lightning fast seconds a winner is chosen. The award is not given to the winner instead it is given to the loser, the ultimate release, death.

This is the way of the samurai, while gruesome it is the truth expressed by the movie The Last Samurai starring Tom Cruise as Captain Nathan Algren. Samurai is the detailed and realistic if not historical accurate story of how Algren, a United States cavalry officer, learns the ways of the samurai and eventually fights side by side with the katana-wielding warriors.

The story starts simple enough with Captain Algren, a drunk trying to forget his history with the military, advertising Winchester firearms. We quickly learn that Algren served under the infamous Lt. Col. Custard and was even present at the last stand at Little Bighorn. Algren is quickly dismissed from his job after firing into a crowd of spectators with the very rifle he is supposed to be advertising. The bemused Captain soon finds himself drafted as a Japanese training commander with an astonishing $500 a month paycheck to keep him preoccupied.

Once in Japan Algren does a satisfactory job training his troops to fight the rebel samurai led by the chief samurai Katsumoto played by Ken Watanabe. Algren’s group is ordered into combat before training is complete giving Katsumoto an easy victory.

During the battle Algren holds his own against his foes even going as far as slaying several of his opponents with only a flagpole. Katsumoto is impressed by Algren’s skill and after the American captain passes out from blood loss orders him taken as a prisoner of war.

In the samurai camp Algren learns about their exotic ways, including how to handle a katana, the native language and the samurai code. Algren resists at first but eventually gives in as Katsumoto’s methods start making sense and the two become allies and more importantly friends.

Finally Katsumoto decides to head back to Tokyo to discuss the current issues with Japans Emperor played by Shichinosuke Nakamura. Katsumoto is unable to convince the Emperor that the samurai’s way is the right path to follow and is captured.

Naturally Algren and the samurai free their leader, escaping back to the mountain camp. It is there that they all realize their inability to defeat the modern Japanese army. Instead the samurai decide to have a last stand against the westernized foe, pitting bow and arrows and katanas against the might of cannon fire and gatling guns, can you guess who won?

The battle is gruesome but sort, with the samurai being peppered by artillery fire. It is only when a detachment of infantry is sent against them do the samurai prove their battle ferocity and skill. In the end only single samurai is left alive, Algren. The fatigued captain goes on to convince the Emperor that the samurai way was correct, completing the legacy left by Katsumoto.

In the end Samurai is a delightful romp through Japanese culture, foreshadowing the consequences of a modernized Japan and providing an opportunity for Cruise to launch himself back into the eyes of Hollywood. Hopefully we can expect more from Cruise in the coming years and maybe more samurai based movies.