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Science Fiction and Fantasy
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| Rimworld | |
| By Mr_E_Writer | ||||||||
| 01 August 2008 | ||||||||
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Discworld or Ringworld? Inspired by Pratchett and Niven; the best of both worlds.
Armitage awoke groggy and ravenous.
Hunger pulled him from between camilla skins and kept him under canvas long enough to prepare a handmeal. It was cool in the tent, always cool, the lanterns always low. Eating one-handed, he brushed aside the flap and strolled out into first light. The land was dry, the air arid and thin; indeed, the very gods themselves seemed absent this close to the edge. It was little more than two weeks since he had journeyed from the tall spires of Great White - the once shining citadel that now stood crumbling at the edge of the Great Ocean - yet already his provisions were running low. His fruit was gone, his meat supply dwindling, and the harsh land yielded naught but tasteless fungi. For many centuries, Great White had been Rimworld's centre of commerce. Trade vessels had drifted in like manner across the surface of the clear blue water, hauling cargos of precious spices and medicinal herbs along with limestones from the mines of Delphina. But when the waters turned from blue to green, the holy men began speaking of The Prophecy and the populace began to move inland, reducing Great White to a city wherein dwelled only the ghosts of its glorious past. Although Rimworlders were land-dwellers, they had always embraced the ocean, living with it and on it. Yet when the change came they grew wary of the water, believing that it would turn again. And turn it did, from its putrid stagnant green to a viscous brown sludge, and it was then that the people learned to fear the water. Armitage packed away his equipment and commenced with loading the heavy burden onto the flanks of his long-haired boontharn. Besides an impressive array of weaponry there was his camping equipment, a food testing, purifying and preparation kit, phials of dietary supplements and two waxed-hemp pouches containing the small amount of medicinal herbs he'd acquired with the last of his skayles. Placing his sajjāda upon the polished white stone that formed the surface of Rimworld, Armitage knelt down, stretched out his arms before him and placed his forehead to the coarse woollen pile. Jah Keü See, he muttered and looked to the north, confident that, by nightfall, he would be standing at the very edge of the world gazing down the white cliffs towards the tops of the giant rain clouds that floated serenely many miles below amongst a sea of stars. Armitage stood, rolled up his rug and strode purposefully towards his boontharn. With the gods on his side, he'd strike it rich with a vein of limestone and be back home in Doulton in time for the B-Day celebrations.
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