Handwavium, a vital element in all fantasy settings.
As is Ah - the element of surprise.

QuoteAh - the element of surprise.

Very good 😄👍.


Must see if I can sneak that into a wikipedia page...

Quote from: fred. on 08 June 2025, 05:09:02 PMI think some hand wavium is needed, unless you really want to delve into biology.

By a strange coincidence, the Mind of Mankind was a repurposed handwavium carrier. It would have seeded Brenda    with handwavium as it broke up in the atmosphere.

QuoteBy a strange coincidence, the Mind of Mankind was a repurposed handwavium carrier. It would have seeded Brenda    with handwavium as it broke up in the atmosphere.

Ew! 

Quote from: Raider4 on 08 June 2025, 06:25:42 PMVery good 😄👍.


Must see if I can sneak that into a wikipedia page...

Pratchett got it into a book! (Thief of Time)

Arturis lay under his cloak. He peered at the goats. Two of them. Small ones.  His human ancestors would not have recognised the description of "small goat". The beasts Arturis was studying stood chest high to the average man and weighed as much as two grown humans. These goats may have a similar appearance to Earth goats, but on closer inspection their horns were sharp blades along their entire length, not just pointed tips, and their faces were covered in a bony chanfron.  These features, as well as the thick blue woolly hide gave the goats some protection against the spikes and poison fronds of the pompoms.

They were bad tempered, nimble and well protected. The usual method in hunting was for one hunter to attract the goat, whilst a second hunter approached from the flank and aimed his spear at the goat's throat. It was a risky strategy, and several hunters bore scars because a slow or inaccurate companion missed his mark. Arturis himself bore a scar from elbow to shoulder where his companion had failed to bring down a charging goat. Arturis had stood his ground and aimed his spear at the small target of the goat's chest; the goat had impaled himself on the spear, but his slashing horns had torn Arturis' arms badly. Only the quick intervention of a healer had saved his arm and his life.

Arturis had been awarded a metal bone that year. The star watchers counted the days and every 394 days everyone was awarded a bone. For three years the bones were plain offcuts of goat bone – from the feet or the ears. On every fourth year of someone's life, the bone was dyed blue. Youngsters wore the bones as a fun ornament; oldsters wore the bone necklace to show their great age, but those of prime age kept the necklace off. The bones would clack together when hunting, or become tangled when doing other work. Special events warranted special bones. The year a female gave birth she was granted a bone with a stripe marked on it for each live baby. Arturis had been awarded a metal bone for his courage in bringing down the goat.

Arturis thought little of the practice. What mattered it how many bones a person collected so long as they could hold a spear or gather pompom or give birth or shape metal or any of the many tasks needed for survival. What really burned Arturis was that he had been born two days after year day. Villa, lying twitching two spear lengths from him,  had been born 2 days before year day. By count of bones, Arturis was 2 years older than Villa, but had been on the planet for nearly 4 years more.

Vila squirmed under his cloak. Probably worrying about goat-tics, but everyone knew that they avoided humans.  Villa was tall and strong, but had no patience for hunting. He was the son of a spice-maker, more at home with a pen than a spear. Arturis thought Vila would turn to scribing as soon as he could so he didn't have to lie quiet under a cloak – watching and waiting. 

The goats were slowly making their way between two converging lines of pompoms  towards the fountain which bled blue-water which got immediately sucked up by the ground.

Arturis reached out his mind. He didn't have the ability to speech without words, even close too, but he could detect the living.  At the extremity of his senses he found the rest of the hunting party. They were many hundreds, no thousands of paces away. There were goats there too. He could sense them, though they were more fuzzy than the humans. As he shifted his perception, he found the two goats he was hunting and ...

"Goat mothers!" He expostulated. Vila started prissily at the bad language.
"What?" He hissed.
"Ips. Four of them. Coming this way."


"Ips. Four of them."

The indigenous people, or ips  would be a problem. Not all of them would be hostile, but they would certainly want the goats for themselves. Arturis sighed and then got to his feet.
"Shall we see if we can scare them off?" Vila grinned ruefully. He was no coward, and knew that four ips would be difficult to convince to depart peacefully.

The ips were travelling in line. They had come from behind the line of pompoms and were trotting towards the fountain. They were encumbered with flasks and kegs, so were obviously collecting water.
 
Arturis set a bullet in his sling, and grasping his spear in his other hand, set off towards the ips. Vila left his spear, but drew his blade. Unlike the blade Arturis carried, Vila held an original white-metal sword. Some time, years ago, the  tip had broken off, and was now forked, but it was still a formidable and frightening weapon.

The ips saw the two humans advancing, and changed direction to approach the humans in line abreast.

The ips advance

"They're not going to be scared off." Vila muttered through gritted teeth. The intentions of the ips became clear as the dropped their water containers ad let loose a ragged volley of stones. They'd misjudged the distance and none of the missiles came close. Vila let out a snort and quickend his pace, waving his white metal sword.
Arturis paused, and whirled the sling over his head, aiming at the ip leader. The metal bullet flew true and the ip leader was struck on the head and went down.

Bellowing with rage, two of the ip charged at Vila, the remaining one adjusting his charge towards Arturis.

Vila laughed maniacally and waved his blade at the two ip. This blunted their enthusiasm for the charge long enough for Vila to sink his blade into one of them. The second ip, recovering from his awe of the white metal, and perhaps desiring it, lunged with his spear and too Vila in the side.

Arturis is charged as Vila is wounded.

Meanwhile, Arturis had side stepped the lunge of his opponent, and let the ip run onto his spear. The ip's falling body tore the spear form Arturis' hand, and he heard the familiar crack of the shaft breaking. 

He reached for his blade and turned in time to see Vila fall. With a snarl, Arturis leaped at the remaining ip, and dashed the hilt into the ip's temple. The ip fell unconscious.

Arturis knelt by Vila. Vila was still alive, blood seeping from his side. Arturis glanced around to check that the ips posed no danger, and turned his mind inward. He laid his hand on Vila's wound and focused on it closing. He was not the healer that the elders were, but he could do enough to keep Vila alive until they returned home.

Vila opened his eyes. He tentatively probed at his wound and found it closed, though still bruised and painful. He winced, sitting up and looking around.

"Do we try and get one of the goats?" He asked.
"No. I've broken my spear and I think they're aware we're here."
"Let's go home then." 
"Let's"

Vila painfully got to his feet, making sure he returned his sword to the scabbard. The two humans turned to home.



A deliberately small skirmish to try out my "Traveller on a low tech planet where psionics are common but undeveloped" rules.

Pondering the incident did make me think about things like the measurement of time. Brenda has almost no axial tilt, so no seasons. With no seasons, no religion and no agriculture, the measurement of time had become less important. As survival was hard, age and sex mattered less than capability and intent. 

I'm reasonably happy with the rules. Arturis and Vila were both very strong, and capable with their weapons. Arturis also measured above average in dexterity and endurance, making him an ideal hunter; whereas Vila was both educated and of high social status. Despite that, and the advantage of the white-metal sword, they despatched the ips very easily. This make me think that I have made ips a bit fragile, though bot humans did throw exceptionally well.

The skirmish took about 15 minutes to play out. I probably need to develop a goat reaction table.       

Superb narrative Nobby, well written
Goat Reaction Table - great name for a band

Brilliant, Nobby !!

Nice one, Will !    

Brenda's "goats" are GOAT. Your narrative does honour to our hobby. 

OK, I think the goats have got big enough.

I hear those are only the older juveniles, wait until an actual adult appears...

They look as if they a contemplating a meal.

Those ARE big goats !  

Life on Brenda is hard. There is a lack of diversity in foodstuffs - it's either pompom or goat. Agriculture of pompoms has been tried, but constant proximity of animals (including humans) increases the likelihood of pompoms developing toxic and aggressive tendencies. Goat herding was tried but the goats died if confined, or got killed by the pompom hedges designed to contain them.

Humans tend to breed, and so every now and again, a community will outgrow its resources, and so will need to spawn a daughter community. Usually, two or three communities will contribute to make a stronger expedition, and also to make sure gene pools don't get shallow.

This is a time for the goat sensitives. These people can form a mental bond with goats, can calm them and get the goats to do their bidding. The goat sensitives must maintain the bond or the animals will  come to their senses and that never goes well for those around them. The goat sensitives must maintain the contact, it's a bit like trying to count in your head whilst doing everyday things. Most goat sensitives have trained long enough to do this, but if they are distracted, say by being poked by an ip spear, they lose their concentration and the goats break free.

The goat sensitives go out and bring back a pair of goats. These can be hitched to carts to transport essentials for the new community. The ghost sensitive walks alongside the cart, hands holding the quick release so that if the goats do go rogue, they will not drag away their precious cargo. The goat sensitives will not allow goats they have bonded with to be killed. When their service is no longer required, the goat sensitives will walk them away, and then release them back to the wild. 

Arturis has joined the expedition from his community. He yearns for adventure, and hopes that he may meet Maye from the neighbouring village and maybe start a family.

The expedition comprises six carts. Four hold tools and artifacts, and household good for the new community. Two coaches are given over to the more precious water purifiers, writings and scientific equipment. These carts will be stripped down to use as building materials at the new site.

Each cart has a goat sensitive, whilst three more trail behind to take over should one become over tired or one of the goats needs some extra calming.

The rest of the colonists stand to the flanks of the column, to protect the precious cargoes, and also so that they do not inadvertently disturb the goat sensitives. 
     
   

Arturis (2nd from left at the bottom) watches as the scout returns with news. Since this is Brenda, it's not going to be good news.

Dumdumdum! And other ominous noises.