The Prospector: A Rifts story

[Uber_Geek]

The following is based on the Rifts RPG, published by Palladium Books and Kevin Siembieda. Rifts, D-Bee, Fingertooth, Larmac, Krak, Quick-Flex, D’norr Devilman, Techno-Wizard, Flooper, and any other trademarked terms I missed are owned by Kevin Siembieda and Palladium Books Inc.
Let me know what you think. Any suggestions are welcome.


The Prospector part 1

Hob let his robot horse plod along at it’s own pace along the road to Waterltown; he was in no rush to get home since his rent was due and he hadn’t got as much for his artifacts that he had hoped to get. Sure, he knew the Fingertooth who was his regular buyer paid him fairly, it was just that it would have been nice to get a little extra. Between his rent and the repairs his equipment needed, he was left with very little to save. But the market for pre-Rifts trinkets was weak, and so he was lucky to have gotten what he had. It was disappointing considering how much effort he had spent salvaging them. No, he mentally corrected himself, prospecting for them.

He kept to the right edge of the road so faster travellers could pass him, although there was very little. As he approached the bridge over the Gran River, he saw a group of people on the road before it standing beside a damaged hovercycle. One, standing with their back to him, wore the hooded robes of a mage. The other four, facing the mage, were wearing piecemeal armour. He could tell they were a Larmac, a Krak, a Quick-Flex, and a human, and they seemed to be threatening the mage. As his horse drew closer, he considered going around them and ignoring the situation, but the Larmac looked straight at him and growled out, “You got a problem?”

Hob drew his horse up and stared the reptilian D-Bee. “I didn’t until now.” With that, he put his hand on his holstered laser pistol. He didn’t want a fight, but being challenged made him not want to back down. And while he may not look like an imposing figure, being an ordinary bald human in his late 30s wearing battered plastic man armour, but he was betting that these thugs were more used to getting their way through intimidation instead of force and would back down, even if they still had the numerical advantage.

The Larmac, who seemed to be the leader of the bandits, glared at him for several moments, and then snarled out, “This is too much trouble.” He gestured towards the woods that ran alongside the road and then he and the thugs began backing towards the treeline. Hob spurred his horse up so that he was with the mage, keeping his eyes on them.

After they disappeared, the mage turned to him and said in a feminine voice, “Thank you.” She pulled down her hood, revealing the tan-red skin, short horns, and purple, gourd-like back of head of a D’norr Devilman. (Devilwoman? He wasn’t sure of the terminology) “You came along just in time.”

Hob chuckled and replied, “I’m handy like that. So, I can tell that you’re not from around here. Where you headed?”

“To the Institute, to continue my training,” she responded.

He nodded. That made sense since the Institute was the biggest Tech center and many techno-wizards worked there. “Well, how about I give you a ride the rest of the way? Oh, and my name’s Hobert, by the way, although everyone calls me Hob.”

She gave him a small smile and said, “My name is Larfia, and I won’t mind a ride.” He helped her up behind him and when she was holding on, he started the horse off on a trot. Having her pressed up close to him reminded Hob of how long it had been since he was with a woman. It didn’t take long to reach the gates of Waterltown and after passing through them, the front entrance of the Institute. Larfia got down and said, “Thanks you again for rescuing me, and for the ride. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.” With that, she gave him a big smile before turning and entering the Institute.

Hob sat there on the horse, dumbfounded. When she had smiled at him, he felt a funny sensation run through his chest, something he had never felt before. After a few minutes, he turned the horse and headed to his apartment in Waterltown. Arriving there, he parked the horse and walked into the building in a daze. That was broken by the shout of, “Where’s your rent?!”

Hob saw the short figure of his landlord Bort, the Flooper’s ears flapping as he hurried up. “Yer behind again, and I can get paying tenants for your place, no problem,” the D-Bee said gruffly.

Hob sighed. Bort did the minimal amount of work around the apartments beyond collecting the rent. Still, he also kept the place secure and Hob knew his few belongings were safe while he was away. He pulled out the money and replied, “I got everything I owe you right here.”

“Floop floop!” Bort exclaimed as he grabbed them. He had a tendency to lapse into his native tongue when he got excited, such as when he was given money. After making sure the rent was all there, he turned away and said over his shoulder, “All right, yer fine for this month, but be on time for next.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hob muttered as he went to his apartment.

Elsewhere in the former province of Ontario, the four bandits were returning to their hideout, a former bar. Several dozen other bandits were already there, lounging around. The Larmac headed for the back office where the employer of the bandit gang was set up. He was a large cyborg with only his head, sporting bushy grey hair and a beard, remaining human. He was sitting in a large, almost throne like, chair and wore a sheep’s head on a chain around his neck. He looked at the Larmac and asked in his distinctive accent, “So how did things go, baoy?”

“Went good, Oviskull. Shook down a bunch of travellers like usual,” came the guttural reply.

Oviskull Evad narrowed his eyes and said lowly, “You’re keeping something from me.”

The Larmac shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Well, some vagabond came along when we were dealing with a D’norr. We could of taken him, but it wouldn’t have been worth trouble so…”

Oviskull exploded from his chair and seized the D-Bee by the throat in a flurry of movement and pinned him against the wall behind him. “What am I paying you for?!” Oviskull yelled at him. “Is it to run away when you get confronted by some tramp? NO!” He held the Larmac there for a moment, before releasing his grip and letting him sag to the floor. He continued in a calmer voice. “What I’m being paid for, and what I in turn pay you for, is to make people afraid to travel the road, and to stretch out the Ohpeepi so they can’t defend it properly. And if you run from the least little opposition, well, that just isn’t going to happen.” He turned and went back to his chair. “Now, I’m just giving you a warning for now, baoy, because you’re needed, but make sure that the next some vagabond shows some backbone…” He settled heavily into the chair. “You break it.”

[say652]

Like. Especially the nonheroic appearance of the hero.

[taalismn]

Agreed...will watch this. I'm seeing some slice-of-life promise in the storytelling.

[andyskyhawk]

I dig it. Excited to see part 2

[Lao Tzume]

I'm into it. Brave of old dude to stand up for himself in Plastic Man armor.

[Uber_Geek]

(Please note that in addition to the copyright and trademark information at the beginning of part 1, any original concepts in my stories should not be considered offical in any way.)

The Prospector part 2

In an empty hallway in the Institute, Larfia sat on a bench, waiting nervously. She had spent the night in one of the guest rooms and today she was to take the entrance test. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and saw a human woman, about 60 years of age, walking towards her. Larfia started to get up, but was waved back down. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. I don’t go for formality all that often,” the woman said in a friendly manner. She sat down beside Larfia and regarded her with blue eyes that seemed to sparkle. “Now, I am Irma Wilfong, headmistress of the techno-magic department. And I must say, I am very impressed by what your references had to say about you. Now, there is some time before we start, so do you have any questions?”

Larfia thought for a moment and then asked, “I’d like to know about how the Institute was founded, Headmistress Wilfong.”

“Please, call me Irma, and the answer to that stretches back to before the Greta Cataclysm,“ came the reply. “This area was once the city of Waterloo. Many technological firms were housed within it’s limits, as well as two of the most prestigious universities in the country. However, they were heavily damaged by the effects of the Cataclysm, and people were more concerned with survival in the aftermath to rebuild. However, as the years when on, scavengers began to poke around the ruins and rediscovered the lost technology. This brought scientists who wished to study it, and they formed a small community. Over time, it grew larger, and the focus changed from merely studying the artifacts of the past to researching and developing new technology. It was 100 years ago that the Institute was officially founded. The person in charge of it overall is the Grand Master, a position given to the most technological proficient person, although appointing a leader solely on merit doesn’t always mean the best person becomes leader.” Larfia thought she detected a bit of annoyance in Irma’s voice when she said the last part, but it was gone when she continued. “But now it’s time for your exam,” she said as she stood up and gestured to one of the rooms. “Shall we?”

Larfia went where she was indicated and entered a small workshop. On a table were several tools and a collection of components. “It’s really quite simple. All you have to do is construct a device, whatever you want, in thirty minutes,” Irma told her. “Beginning now.”

The D’Norr woman turned to the table and after taking a moment to assess what was before her, decided to make a simple recording device. She knew this test was not just to see her skills and understanding of technical principles, but also to see if she was able to work under a deadline and with limited materials. Her nimble fingers flew as she assembled the device.

She had just finished when the door opened and a stooped over man entered. Even hunched over, he was tall for a human. Larfia knew him by reputation: Smith Underly, the current Grand Master of the Institute. She had heard a rumour that he had been a technical officer in the Coalition States’ army before coming here, but didn’t know how much truth there was in that. As he begun to examine her handiwork, she stole a glance at Irma. For a second, she thought she noticed a tenseness in the older woman as she observed Smith.

Her attention was drawn back to the Grand Master as he set her recording device down. He grunted and said tersely, “Competent.” Then he turned and walked out of the room without a second glance.

Larfia’s heart sank. She had worked so hard to get here, and yet it all seemed to be dismissed with one word. So she was surprised when Irma approached her and said, “Let me be the first to welcome you to the Institute.”

She blinked and said in confusion, “What…?”

Irma chuckled and replied, “Grand Master Underly is a particular man. That was, in his way, of saying he thought your work was excellent. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have said anything.“ She picked up the recording device and put it in Larfia’s hands. “Keep this, as a symbol of your worthiness here. Now, let’s go get you a dorm room.”

* * * * *

A few days later, Hob was in the woods far north of Waterltown. He was back out in the field, searching for more artifacts. He had to go all this way since the lands around the town were all farmers’ fields, and they didn’t care for people poking around looking for what they would call garbage. Plus, most of the sites in settled lands have been picked over. So Hob would ride up to the new growth forest that had sprung up after the Great Cataclysm and locate a road, and then search along it for a ruined house. Then he’d set up a camp and dig through the rubble for the next two or three days.

The current site he was at was a fair distance within the forest. He had been digging for a few hours and hadn’t found anything saleable, but that could change. As he tossed some bricks away, he heard a rustling in the nearby brush. His eyes shot towards the sound as he reached to his sidearm. There were a number of animals that roamed this area, as well as nastier things. He waited for a moment, but didn’t hear anything further or see anything. He let out a slow breath and turned away, figuring that whatever it was most have wandered away. He went back to shifting through the rubble.

Suddenly the air was split by a blood curding scream. Hob spun around to see a terrifying sight. It was a creature that stood almost 9 feet tall. It’s head was skull-like, covered by a thin layer of skin, and had a comparatively small mouth. It was covered by thin layer of fur except for it’s head and chest, and had four arms that were currently spread out. Hob had heard of creatures like this; it was known as a diashun.

He turned and ran to his robot horse, and mounted it faster than he had ever done before. He set it running southwards as fast as it could among the trees. He stole a glance back to see the diashun chasing after on all six limbs. He turned his gaze back forwards and saw the edge of the forest fast approaching. He relaxed somewhat, since once they were there, the horse could go full out. Plus, even if he couldn’t outrun the monstrous D-Bee, he could encounter people with weapons stronger than his laser pistol.

And then just as the horse’s head broke the treeline, it suddenly jerked to a halt. Hob was thrown violently off. He hit the ground hard and rolled several times. His armor protected him from injuries, but the impact still hurt regardless. He shook his head and saw a large rock close by. He scrambled over to it as he drew his pistol. Looking back to the woods, he saw his horse hobbling around. One of it’s rear lower leg’s had been crushed.

And then he saw the diashun, moving from behind one tree to another, and he heard it laughing. “Ke ke ke.” It could have caught him at any time, but had let think he could escape for it’s own amusement. And now he was stuck behind the rock, waiting for it to attack.

Just as he thought it was preparing to make it’s move, he heard the drone of hovercycle engines drawing closer. The diashun snarled and slunk off deeper into the woods. Hob turned and saw two hovercycles, the pilots wearing the uniforms of the Ohpeepi. He holstered his gun and called out, “You came along at just the right time.”

The two ‘cycles pulled up, and Hob recognised one of the officers as Staff Sergeant Alexander. “Actually, we’re on our regular patrol. You just got lucky,” he replied.
“Well, thank anyways,” Hob said as he stood up and dusted his armour off. “Now could you come with me so I can get my gear?”

This brought a chuckle from both Alexander and the constable with him. “Sure, we got nothing better to do than protect scavengers,” Alexander said sarcastically. “Besides, looks like you have other things to worry about,” he continued, gesturing to the damaged robot horse.

Hob was annoyed by the answer, but he was even more annoyed by the fact he was right. They did have more important things to do than help him. With a nod of resignation, he started leading his steed back to Waterltown.

[andyskyhawk]

Seems like old Hob needs a couple of rough and tumble type friends to run around with...but then he would have share his loot and nobody wants that.

[say652]

Poor horsey

[Uber_Geek]

(wrote this part a while go and finally posting it)

The Prospector part 2.5

It was well after dark when Hob got back home. He put the robot horse away for the night and went up to his apartment. When he got up the next morning, he took it up to the Institute. There were a couple of operator shops in Waterltown, but they mostly served travellers. Locals went to the Institute since it was cheaper because the lower level members did the work as part of their training. Hob led the horse to one of the repairs bays. As he waited for the initiate to arrive, he started calculating how much this was going to cost even at the reduced rate as well as how much it would cost to replace the gear he had left behind, and came to the unhappy conclusion that it would wipe out most of his savings.

Lost in thought, he turned when he heard footsteps draw near and was surprised to see the D’Norr woman he had help a few days previously. “Oh, hey,” he said, since he couldn’t think of anything else. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Larfia replied. After a moment of silence, she asked, “So, what brings you here?”

Hob blinked before speaking. ”Oh, right. I need to get this cannon replaced,” he said, pointing to the crushed lower leg of the robot horse.

She examined it before saying, “That shouldn’t be too difficult to repair. Is there anything else?”

He thought about the question for a moment before doing something he’d never done before. “Well, what would you say if I asked you to go to, you know, dinner. With, um, me.”

Larfia considered the question. He seemed earnest and he did chase away the thugs who were trying to rob her. She gave him a smile, and again his heart did flip-flops like the other time she did, and said, “I’d say yes.”

[Hotrod]

I love the concept. A few ideas on edits and strategy moving forward.

The best advice I ever got as a writer was "Show, don't tell." Once you get past the mechanics of writing (which you seem to do well), what separates good writing from writing that isn't as good is the proper application of this axiom. If you're explaining things to the reader, it's like George Lucas jumping in front of the camera in Empire Strikes Back, saying "SEE WHAT'S GOING ON?! LUKE IS TOTALLY SHATTERED TO HIS CORE BY THE REVELATION THAT DARTH VADER IS HIS FATHER!"

Let's apply this axiom to your opening paragraph:

"Hob let his robot horse plod along at it’s own pace along the road to Watertown; he was in no rush to get home since his rent was due and he hadn’t got as much for his artifacts that he had hoped to get."
The opening bit is good, but the rest of the opening sentence is a whole lot of explaining that doesn't seem necessary in the opening sentence. It also doesn't make a whole lot of sense. If he doesn't have enough for rent, why would he be plodding along? Is he sulking or brooding as he tries to come up with some kind of explanation to his landlord? Is he scanning the area as he goes, looking for other spots to scavenge? Is his robot horse in need of repairs and maintenance, so he's not pushing it hard? Is it just tiring for him to ride it at its designed travel speed? Is he worried about bandits who would kill him for his meager haul? I'd consider what you're trying to convey about this character and his situation and try to convey that in a compelling way, especially since this is your work's opening sentence.

"Sure, he knew the Fingertooth who was his regular buyer paid him fairly, it was just that it would have been nice to get a little extra.
I like the internal dialogue here. My only suggestion would be to take out the "who was his regular buyer" and replace it with "the Fingertooth was a haggler, but they always settled on a fair price; even so, it would have been nice to..." This conveys that the Fingertooth is his regular buyer without explaining it. Also, try to minimize your use of adverbs. Better to use verbs with a specific meaning.

"Between his rent and the repairs his equipment needed, he was left with very little to save." What's he saving for? Is he trying to get rich? Does he have a specific thing he wants to buy?

"But the market for pre-Rifts trinkets was weak, and so he was lucky to have gotten what he had. It was disappointing considering how much effort he had spent salvaging them. No, he mentally corrected himself, prospecting for them.

Try to focus on how Hob feelings manifest. Maybe he sighs just before he continues this internal dialogue. Maybe he shrugs. Maybe he wipes the stinging sweat out of his eyes. Also, think about detailing how much effort he had spent salvaging them. What did it cost him? Sore muscles and body odor from a hard day's digging? A broken tool? Sunburn? Perhaps he paid someone for the tip of where to find this stuff?

Also, you might consider getting more specific about what the trinkets are. It's fine to wait until later if that's an important reveal for the plot, but if not, then that kind of detail helps paint the picture of what's going on.

I like the mental correction at the end; it suggests that he likes to think of himself as a prospector, not a scavenger. Here, some kind of em-dash interrupter might work better. Something like "salvaging – no, prospecting for them."

Please don't take any of these suggestions as a condemnation of your work. I really like this concept, and I love me some good Rifts fiction. I wrote up a Rifts novel manuscript some years ago, which got me into learning how to write better. I hope this helps, and I look forward to reading more!

[Uber_Geek]

I love the concept. A few ideas on edits and strategy moving forward.

The best advice I ever got as a writer was "Show, don't tell." Once you get past the mechanics of writing (which you seem to do well), what separates good writing from writing that isn't as good is the proper application of this axiom. If you're explaining things to the reader, it's like George Lucas jumping in front of the camera in Empire Strikes Back, saying "SEE WHAT'S GOING ON?! LUKE IS TOTALLY SHATTERED TO HIS CORE BY THE REVELATION THAT DARTH VADER IS HIS FATHER!"

...

Please don't take any of these suggestions as a condemnation of your work. I really like this concept, and I love me some good Rifts fiction. I wrote up a Rifts novel manuscript some years ago, which got me into learning how to write better. I hope this helps, and I look forward to reading more!

Thank you for your feedback. I'll Keep them in mind as I continue the story.

[Not-a-rogue-scholar]

(wrote this part a while go and finally posting it)

The Prospector part 2.5

It was well after dark when Hob got back home. He put the robot horse away for the night and went up to his apartment. When he got up the next morning, he took it up to the Institute. There were a couple of operator shops in Waterltown, but they mostly served travellers. Locals went to the Institute since it was cheaper because the lower level members did the work as part of their training. Hob led the horse to one of the repairs bays. As he waited for the initiate to arrive, he started calculating how much this was going to cost even at the reduced rate as well as how much it would cost to replace the gear he had left behind, and came to the unhappy conclusion that it would wipe out most of his savings.

Lost in thought, he turned when he heard footsteps draw near and was surprised to see the D’Norr woman he had help a few days previously. “Oh, hey,” he said, since he couldn’t think of anything else. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Larfia replied. After a moment of silence, she asked, “So, what brings you here?”

Hob blinked before speaking. ”Oh, right. I need to get this cannon replaced,” he said, pointing to the crushed lower leg of the robot horse.

She examined it before saying, “That shouldn’t be too difficult to repair. Is there anything else?”

He thought about the question for a moment before doing something he’d never done before. “Well, what would you say if I asked you to go to, you know, dinner. With, um, me.”

Larfia considered the question. He seemed earnest and he did chase away the thugs who were trying to rob her. She gave him a smile, and again his heart did flip-flops like the other time she did, and said, “I’d say yes.”

Waiting for p3.
The good: it's fingertooth and hob seem developed. Hob is interesting and so is his road. Plastic armor and poverty = humble beginnings. Hobs prospects could be anything from before the apocalypse, so that keeps me wondering what is he going to find.
The bad: I, personally, think it has 1 or 2 too many characters that distract from the prospectors. Cant put my finger on it, but I seemed distracted from hob. Fingertooth landlord fleshed out hob more, while mage took me to a magical place, away from the artifacts.
Idea: the mage might go prospecting with hob, identifying things and values he was ignorant of.