7 August 2023

I focused a lot on Elsenaia and making it a viable story at the beginning of last month. It’s still one of my focuses, actually; I quite enjoy Nick and Elsie’s opening scene, and I want to build on that. It took a few attempts to nail down how everyone responds after the mind-dive didn’t work as planned, though. This is my first attempt; I feel like Nick starts off too aggressive than feels natural, especially given the fact he and Elsie aren’t that close yet.

I’ll be making the elvish lines a different color; I used a different font on my google doc, but that’s not as simple to do on here.

When we come to, Elsenaia squeaked and took a few steps back, staring at me with clear trepidation. The guards tightened the grip on their weapons, just a thread away from snapping and attacking me.

Not that the scowl on my face helped matters at all. I glared at Darrett, then turned on Tairsi and drawled, “So princesses aren’t allowed to have friends, was it? No wonder she can’t trust anyone.”

Except… that’s not what I said. Or… it is, but not in English. Somehow, I spoke to them in perfect Elvish.

Everyone, even Elsenaia, stared at me in shock. Adam gave a low whistle. “Damn. If a little mind dive is all you need, sign me up. I always wanted to learn Spanish.”

Meanwhile, Darrett’s eyes flared. “What did you do to our princess?”

“Heck if I know. You lot are the ones who understand magic, right? You know more than me.” As I spoke, I carefully rested one hand on the pistol at my side. With how jumpy everyone was, I figured it’d be best to be ready for anything.

2 August 2023

Ever since I first read it in seventh grade for class, the short story The Lady or the Tiger has always fascinated me. I’d periodically find myself chewing on it, wondering not so much what would the princess choose, but what’s the best outcome overall? I consistently come back to the solution I present below. I should note this explicitly goes against what it says in the original story; it makes it very clear the princess’s beau fully expects her to help him survive the trial. Which always rubbed me wrong.

I had some vague ideas about a potential story arc after the dude kills the tiger, but it’s not a particularly high priority at the moment; we’ll see if and when I get to it in the future.

Princess Nikka could only stare in shock, her blood roaring in her ears. Her father, the king, looked thoroughly pleased with himself, as he sat smugly upon his throne. Did he not realize what he’d just done? Of how utterly he’d just ruined all hope she had for her future?

Of course he didn’t. It didn’t matter how she felt about Leug, or what promises they’d made. It only mattered that the king thought she’d defied him. And so Leug would be put to the Trial. And no matter which doom he chose… She’d lose him. Forever.

Unbidden, and unwelcome for the weakness they implied, tears welled in the corner of Nikka’s eyes. One moment, visions of blood swept over her, as she imagined Leug eviscerated by the tiger. The next, images of Leug’s arms around another woman, while she was forced to watch from afar as she grew old and lonely. Or worse, chained to the side of whatever clan chieftain or foreign dignitary had gained Father’s favor.

A hand rested on Nikka’s shoulder, pulling her out of her waking nightmare. Leug, bound in chains and yet somehow still more noble in bearing than all her father’s court combined, flashed her a smile and whispered, “Send me to the tiger, will you? When the day comes. I know you’ll find out which is which; so when you do, send me to the tiger.”

Nikka’s blood turned to ice. “Do you not wish to live? For your own happiness?” She ignored Father’s souring expression.

Leug chuckled. “Of course I do. But what life, what happiness is there without you? Nor could I be so cruel, to either you or my wife-to-be.”

“So you have given up hope?”

With a shake of his head, Leug explained, “There’s still a way. One single path I can see.” He flashed her a smile, one full of false bravado to mask his fear. “I just have to kill the tiger.”

24 July 2023

Well, this is the last thing I’ve actually written in Majesty at this point. Had ideas for some of the rest, but none of it’s actually been put down to paper yet. I just recognized with this scene that the flow of events was all wrong and felt stilted. I might throw everything together to identify the best point to split off and fix things; probably after the end of the naval battle. I was pretty proud of that scene, and I don’t think it’s affecting the problematic points.

Once the Pirate King had gone, the crew all turned to face the woman, anxious to see what she intended to do with them. She studied them all in turn, before she turned to Jakob and asked, “You there. You were the previous captain of this vessel?”

“Aye, ma’am.”

She held his gaze a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Jakob, ma’am. May I be so bold as to ask yours?”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “I’ve collected more than a few names over the years, both on and off the sea. But you can call me Moira.”

Jakob dipped his head. “Captain Moira, then.”

Moira nodded, then folded her arms. “You’ll be my first mate. Assuming you’re willing. What were your plans prior to our little…delay here?”

[Line from Jakob about seeking refuge from Roland’s city?]

“Hm. while the ship’s being repaired, send some men in boats to check the wreckage of the other ship. Survivors, valuable, provisions. I don’t expect to find much if anything, but it never hurts to look. Once we’re ready to move, resume the same heading we were on before.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Jakob flashed her a salute and started bellowing orders. Charles didn’t understand half of it, but he tried to stay out of everyone’s way as he hurried after Moira.

10 June 2023

My White Room puzzle story continues to fascinate me. It’s a bit like playing chess against myself, and not like Gerti does it in the Pixar short. To add to it, I always seem to write it when I’m exhausted and can’t muster the brain power required to work on one of my other, more focused stories. Makes the whole thing quite fascinating. I wonder what comes next?

I finally snagged the key from where it was wedged between the front of the speaker and the screen. It was as white as everything else in the room; I was more than a little tempted to try and scrape it to see if it was white all the way through, or just painted.

I headed back to the Ebony room and tested the key in the lock. It worked, though it did feel strange to use such a pure white key on such a pitch black door. The door swung open to reveal a bright, almost garish, scarlet room. Unlike the other two, there were other colors as accents; one of the throw pillows was white, and the small end table by the couch was black. I think it had more or different furniture than the other two rooms, but I was too tired to really notice or care. Instead, I just crashed on the couch and zonked out.

9 June 2023

Short little fluff piece; the kind of day-to-day shots that were half the reason I started writing Elsenaia to begin with. I can’t profess a great wealth of experience in matters of romance, but the ones that stuck with me the most in things I’ve read and watched weren’t the ones about passion or grand gestures of love. Those could show up at times, sure, but it was the quiet moments, the small shows of support, the ability to simply be with each other that make for the most poignant romances to me. I might have to write an article on that at some point.

Of course, a healthy relationship makes for poor drama, which means to have a story, either the relationship needs flaws, or there needs to be a major outside force that is the actual focus of the story. That’s probably why almost none of my favorite romances are found in the romance genre.

On this particular Saturday morning, it was Nick’s turn to fix lunch. It was a gorgeous day outside, and he found himself humming cheerily as he cooked bacon and cut tomatoes for some BLTs.

Once he had everything ready, he headed downstairs to get Elsenaia. It was amazing how much more vibrant the house felt with just one more person. He found her with her hair tied back, pointy ears showing, and dressed in a ratty shirt and old jeans, both covered in fresh paint of all colors. It was probably to most casual he’d ever seen her, and somehow, it made her seem even more radiant.

She stood before a large canvas, palette in one hand and brush in the other. Other paintings cluttered the area; several bore a stark resemblance to Jackson Pollock’s art style, but there were a few landscapes and other things mixed in.

6 June 2023

There’s this one concept for a D&D character that’s been knocking around my head for years, but I’ve never really gotten a chance to play her. She’s a cleric with a split personality; one, graves domain, that is shy and timid but also incredibly kind, and the other that is the death domain and can best be described as…uninhibited. I got tired of waiting to move somewhere I could find a group (my internet here sucks, so I don’t consider that a viable option), so I tried writing a scene. Don’t particularly plan on continuing at the moment, but I may change my mind and develop the arc and story later.

The alcove Tarynn found herself in wasn’t especially comfortable. For some reason, she’d figured that since it was in the temple of the Eternal Rose, it would have some comforts, but she had no such luck. Probably from all the pushback about the corruption that had run rampant a decode or so ago.

She poked her head out to look around, but at the sight of her lady-in-waiting, Anya, just around the corner, she pulled back into the alcove. She’d tried too hard and come too far to just get dragged back home now. Not for the first time, Tarynn wished her other self were out right now; for all the problems she caused, the other one was a lot more bold, and would never just let herself get carted off. She probably wouldn’t have resorted to hiding in uncomfortable alcoves, either.

“You’re sure she went in here?” Anya said, with clear concern in her voice. “I know things have calmed down recently, but given her… connection to the Undying Princess, this isn’t the safest place for her to be…”

“She’s here, alright.” Tarynn recognized the voice as Joseph’s, her official bodyguard. “Storms have mercy, that might be why she’s here; she assumed we wouldn’t think to look here.”

Tarynn blushed. Joseph was absolutely correct. Obviously, that hadn’t worked out so well, but she hadn’t gotten caught yet, so it was all good, right?

The pair chatted for a little longer, and Tarynn began to sweat. If these two were here, where was Robin? Officially Tarynn’s maid, and unofficial her scariest, most capable bodyguard, Robin was the one Tarynn worried about most; even her other self had trouble dealing with her.

Soon enough, the two voices moved away, and after several moments of silence Tarynn poked her head out again. When she didn’t see anyone, she stepped out of the alcove and heaved a sigh of relief.

That lasted until a voice behind her said, “Running away from home, m’lady?”

Tarynn let out a squeak and spun around, shoulders drawing together.” There stood a tall-ish tiefling, maybe a head and a half taller than her own 5’3”, with a mane of shaggy brown hair around his curled horns. A pendant of the Rose’s symbol hung free on his chest, and Tarynn took a step back.

He raised his hands above his head, an easy smile on his lips. “Easy there; I mean no harm. Just curious, I suppose. You’re the one they’re looking for, am I right? So, why are you hiding?”

Tarynn’s thought began tumbling over themselves, churning her brain to such a mess she had trouble sorting one from another. She opened her mouth to try to answer, then turned bright red when nothing came out.

5 June 2023

It’s been a long time since I wrote this. I’ve been struggling with Majesty a lot, actually; not really satisfied with the opening scenes I have (with a couple exceptions), and I’m not really sure where I’m going with it, either. In particular, I don’t think this is how Moira gets introduced, or how the Pirate King handles this situation. Might have to let it stew in my brain a while longer…

…eyeing various crew members.

Then a fairly tall woman from the pirate ship strode over. “Alright, Jasper, that’s enough of that.” She had dark brown, nearly black hair cut roughly to jaw length, and wore a vest over a sleeveless shirt. Her pants went down to mid-calf.

The King chuckled, then eyed the woman. “You hae something to say?”

An easy smile fell on the woman’s face, and she leaned back against the ship railing. “This is a pretty nice ship. Don’t you think?”

“Eh. The big ol’ hole in the side dampers that a bit.”

“True. A bit of a shame, that.” She pushed off and began pacing around. “Do you have any plans for it?”

Charles and Elliott could only watch the exchange slack-jawed. Who was this woman, and how could she banter so easily with the Pirate King of all people?

For his part, the King just scratched at his cheek. “Dunno yet. Doesn’t seem to be much worth keeping.” Then he paused, and looked right at Elliott. A feral grin broke out across his face. “Well, well. What have we here?”

Elliott pinched Charles, who’d been about to answer. Instead, Elliott said, “Alan, sir. ‘Prentice carpenter. And this is my friend, Charles.”

The King raised an eyebrow. “That so? Say, Alan. Don’t suppose you’ve heard the little rumor that your prince is still alive, have you?”

Elliott started… [9 May 2023]

…think of that?”

“You know, boy,” the woman added, before Elliott could answer. She wasn’t looking at them. “If you’re going to try to hide your identity, you ought to at least make it believable. Your accent’s all wrong for a lowborn apprentice, and even from here I can see your hands are too soft for carpentry work.”

Elliott’s face paled, and he looked up at the Pirate King. The King reached out to grab him, but Charles couldn’t just watch any longer… [9 May 2023]

…decided to remain very still.

“If you’re finished deciding what you want,” the woman cut in, “how would you feel about handing the ship over to me? Complete with crew and passengers.”

Everyone around inhaled sharply. Once again, who was this woman, that she could talk to the Pirate King as an equal? And what would she do once she got them?

The King just raised an eyebrow. “Hardly seems worth the effort. I was thinking I’d just scuttle it and be done with it.”

Cries of alarm came from many of the crew, including Jakob, but neither of them paid attention to any of that. The woman smiled. “Then it won’t matter if I take them, will it? Consider this repayment on that debt.”

The King scowled, but thought for a moment. “And after this, we’re clear?”

“One hundred percent.”

He glanced at Elliott. “I’m still taking the kid.”

The woman shrugged. “What use do I have for a prince?”

That elicited another round of protests, which got no more of a reaction than the last. The King grinned and extended a hand. “Shake on it.”

They did, and the King immediately ordered some of his crew to begin repairing the ship. He grabbed Elliott by the collar and dragged him off. The wyvern sitting on Charles waited until they were aboard the Fortune’s Blessing before it hopped off and scurried after its master.

3 June 2023

Mei is fascinating to me. I’m not 100% sure why. I wouldn’t call her “good” per se, but I don’t think she’s evil, either; that may be why. She doesn’t operate of the same framework as most humans. Also, as soon as I made the connection between the jorogumo myths and the way female spiders eat their mates, I couldn’t separate them anymore; the jorogumo may well be 100% sincere about loving and caring for their husband. Doesn’t change how things end up. Puts a curious spin on the whole thing. Still don’t know how her sub-plot plays out; I have ideas for a side story involving her kids a few decades in the future, after Hanako’s story is finished, but I don’t know who the father is, or if something changed to let the father survive. Not gonna worry about it yet.

Daiki wasn’t sure how to react. He looked again from Mei to Hanako, who’d lowered her sword down to her side, even if she hadn’t sheathed it.

Hanako, for her part, barely noticed him. “Were you part of the attack on this village? Are you with the yokai village?”

“Good heavens, no!” Mei looked repulsed at the thought. “No, I simply felt lonely, and assumed a bright young man eager to aid a girl in need would make a decent companion.”

It was too much for Daiki to keep up with. “So… you’re jus… looking for a boyfriend?”

“More or less.” Mei smiled, which unsettled Daiki more. It was very unnatural. Still, when he thought about it, she was quite beautiful, even with the extra eyes.

Right when he turned to ask Hanako if Mei could join them, however, she raised an eyebrow at him. “You do know that most female spiders devour their mates after the deed, right?”

The blood drained from Daiki’s and Fumito’s faces, and they stared at Mei. She shrugged. “Where else would we get the energy to lay all our eggs?”

Fumito went to heave up what little was left in his stomach, while Daiki swayed, on the verge of fainting. For her part, Hanako just studied the spider woman for several long moments. Then she sheathed her sword. “As long as you’re not with them, fine. Try not to make things too much harder for the people around her, alright?”

She moved to leave, but Mei called out. “And what about you, oni girl?”

“Sorry, not interested.”

Mei laughed. “That was not my intent, though I’ll not shy away should you change your mind. No, I mean, what do you hope to accomplish alongside these humans?”

Hanako moved to reply, but found she had nothing to say. The silence hung loud for several moments. Then Mei’s eyes softened. “Perhaps I will ask again, next we meet.” She turned to leave and called back, “If your next destination is Nanmoku, best hurry. I overheard an oni say they planned to begin their attack tomorrow, before i turned him into a snack.”

Hanako’s eyes went wide. She turned to her two companions. “Will you be alright on your own?”

Daiki blinked. “You can’t go after them on your own, can you? It’s still two days to Nanmoku!”

“On horseback, yes.” She turned to Fumito, who’d recovered some of his color. “I’ll let you decide if you are going back or following me, but be careful. Don’t talk to anyone on the roads; stay hidden as much as you can. Will you do that?”

Fumito nodded, and Hanako flashed him a quick smile. Then she took off, far faster than their horses could have gone. There was only the smallest chance it was even possible to make it in time, but she had to try.

2 June 2023

I was trying (and am still trying, with varying amounts of success) to pin down the plot of Majesty book one. And since most plots revolve around the actions of the antagonist, rather than the protagonist, I decided to try and get information out of Roland. It didn’t pan out as well as I hoped.

I am once again seated with Roland. He raises an eyebrow at me. “And what can I do for you?”

The corner of my mouth quirks up. “I suppose I wanted to apologize. I was wrong last tim. It is not the Conqueror you are scared of.”

Roland blinks; he wasn’t expecting that. His reprieve is short-lived, however, and the smile on my face finishes forming. “No. You’re scared of Moira, and this new country of refugees she’s started up on your doorstep.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Roland jumps up, far more agitated than I’d expected; he even sweeps the papers off his desk. “I tried to warn the Council, of the risks from having a literal dragon next door eyeing our city, but do they listen? Fortune forbid!” He slumps back into his chair and rubs his temples.

The outburst did startle me, honestly, but I make a point to continue sipping amy hot cider and act unperturbed. Once I’m fairly certain his rant has finished for now, I set my cup down. “So what are you planning to do about it?”

“What am I…?” He stares in wonder for a moment, then his eyes narrow. “You’re trying to get me to reveal it so you can counter it.”

“Hardly. No matter what it is, countering it isn’t the problem. After all, if I wanted to…” I snap my fingers and we are instantly teleported to the ocean floor of some coral reef. Roland’s eyes go wide and he reaches for his throat, desperate to breathe. I snap again, and we’re back in his office, torrents of water pouring off Roland as he gasps for breath. I, notably, remain completely dry.

“So you see, it’s not really even a matter of will I stop you or not. Realistically, I even already know how; I just need the details of your plan to see how it all fits together.”

Rather than say anything, Roland just glares at me. Ah, well. Suppose I can’t be too surprised; that was a bit heavy-handed, and even if I hadn’t been, Roland seems to be the stubborn sort. I sigh, bid him farewell, and leave the room.

15 May 2023

Finally went back to Elsenaia. I’ve been working on it recently (as in, beginning of August), as well, and I’d like to turn it into a proper story. So here’s my attempt to redo some of the early bit. There’s going to be a lot less time spent inside the mind dive, I think.

Elsenaia hadn’t participated in many mind dives, and certainly never a human’s, so she hadn’t really known what to expect. Still, every other mind she’d visited had been neat and orderly, whether it was a carefully planned garden of thoughts or something more like her own stately palace.

They definitely weren’t like this. This was… What else could she call it but chaos? Some kind of instrument–a piano, he called it?--was covered in bits and bobs of memories and hopes and dreams, with few if any of them actually about music. There was a cupboard under the stairs that tried to dump her into a whole other world where people rode around on broomsticks, and a greenhouse inside the house that not only stretched on for infinity, but seemed to constantly shift its layout every time she looked at it.

She eventually wound up in some sort of dining area that itself was full of junk. On a counter sat a small group of figurines; Elsenaia picked one up, and nearly fainted at the notion of half-elves, before she realized it was all made up. …Wasn’t this Nicholas a bit old to be playing pretend? Strange.

Nothing, though, could have prepared Elsenaia for th things she saw when she sat down at the table. It was… Nick’s family. His siblings. His father and mother. Even now, they still flirted as they prepared dinner. There was laughter at the table. When his parents asked how Nick and his siblings were or what they were working on, they meant it, and they listened, no matter how small the concerns seemed.

And Nick’s brothers and sister! There were no sly looks, no competing for affection or prestige. When they teased one another, there was an undercurrent of fondness, not spite.

Elsenaia tried in vain to prevent tears from forming in her eyes. Why couldn’t she have had this? Why was this man, with no particular renown, so loved, while Elsenaia had been left alone?

She tried to banish the thought; she knew it was unfair. But before she could, she felt Nick grab hold, and indignation warmed the room around her to uncomfortable levels. To Elsenaia’s shock, Nick wasn’t mad at her, despite her rude thoughts, but at her family. And… at Tairsi?

Suddenly Elsenaia had a flashback, clear as the moon of the day Tairsi had left. The day they stopped being friends, and were merely a princess and her subordinate.

After all, princesses aren’t allowed to have friends.

Then Elsenaia saw him, eyes burning. Nick was there. Nick was watching her memories. Somehow, Nick was inside her head.

Panicked, Elsenaia cut the spell off, and they snapped back to their bodies. Tairsi and Darrett stepped forward protectively, but Nick wasn’t intimidated. And to the shock of everyone present, when he opened his mouth, he spoke in perfect Elvish.

12 May 2023

This is just notes on a dream I had, but depending, it may be good reference material for another story later.

Set in an Indian-style culture (or, as much as can be w/ my limited knowledge). Central character was a young woman with special powers; she could either reinforce things or superheat them. This was good, because they were often attacked by brass/bronze creatures. I’m not sure how they moved; it almost seemed weeping angel-ish, but everyone acted like they could move normally. Maybe it was just a low-budget dream?

There was romance; the central character loved a guy from the upper city/upper class, and he even seemed to reciprocate. I don’t think the class divide was an issue; I think the problems came when he found out she was attracting these brass monsters (they werre trying to kill her), and he and all his people wrote her off as cursed and refused to have anything to do with one another.

That’s when the things actually attacked in the dream. She piled scraps and paraphernalia together and reinforced it into walls for everyone. The rest of her village seemed used to this; they knew how to fight the things, and did so w/o fear. Only a couple small ones even made it to her. She was fending off a couple rodent statues (a rabbit and I think a squirrel), when a couple others tried to sneak in behind her–snakes. She noticed them (this is where the freeze-frame came into play), and took care of them.

The only notable thing that happened in the dream after that was when her (ex-)boyfriend was kicked out of the upper city during this attack. He was too closely associated with the main character, and thus also cursed.

10 May 2023

Here it is; the last of the Elden Ring fanfic shorts. This one explores a pretty common idea to play with; what must it be like for the enemies when the player character comes back over and over and over again, no matter how many times you kill them?

The fight, if it could even be called that, barely lasted an instant. Strangely, Malenia felt… disappointed by that. The armor he wore, with the stylized lion on the chestplate, should have meant he would pose more of a challenge.

No matter. The warrior was dead, now, faded to mist as tarnished soldiers werre wont to do. Malenia had nearly put the whole series of events behind her when a bright glow beamed at the entrance to her grotto.

She spun, and there was the tarnished, performing Golden Vow with the iconic halberd of the Tree Sentinels. He shifted it to his off hand and swung another halberd, in a style Malenia recognized from Morgott’s Night Cavalry, to his right.

This fight lasted barely any longer than the first, but still the tarnished warrior returned.

9 May 2023

Honestly, a great deal of this section of Majesty just didn’t land quite right with me. That’s not why I took such a long break—we can blame Tears of the Kingdom and other video games for that—but I don’t think it helped that I knew something was off, and I didn’t know what to do about it. In particular, it’s not like there’s anything inherently wrong with this section, or with the alternate version of it I wrote in June and July. It just…wasn’t right for the story or the characters. I think I’ve pinned down a solution, but I’ve been writing other things this past week, so I haven’t actualized any of that.

…Jakob’s story. In the meantime, he prowled around the deck, eying the various crew members. When he noticed Charles and Elliott, he paused. “What’s your name, boy?”

Was the King talking to him? Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Elliott spoke up first. “Alan, sir. Carpenter’s apprentice. And this is my friend, Charles.”

The Pirate King raised an eyebrow, and looked the two boys up and down. “That’s interesting. Say, Alan, had you heard that your prince is still alive?”

Elliott started. He shook his head, trying to do his best to recover. The King nodded to himself. “Yeah. The Conqueror announced she’d killed off Averny’s king and queen, but that the princeling had scurried off like a cowardly rat. What do you think of that?”

Charles’ eyes went wide and he spun to look at Elliott. For his part, though, Elliott kept his face impassive as he shrugged. “That’s… good, I suppose? Assuming he wasn’t on the Siren’s Lament.”

The wyvern on the King’s shoulders chirped, and the King snatched Elliott’s arm, bringing his hand up to inspect, making Elliott gasp. “You know, Alan, for a carpenter’s apprentice, your hands are awfully soft, wouldn’t you say?”

Elliott struggled to free his hand from the Pirate King’s grasp, but to no avail. The King pulled him forward until his nose was almost touching Elliott’s. “Last chance, princeling. Who are you really?”

Charles couldn’t just watch any longer. He bit his lower lip, then tried to tackle the King. The pirate dodged, but he was distracted enough that Elliot was finally able to pull free. The wyvern jumped off the King’s shoulders and bowled into Charles’ stomach. It glared up at Charles, snapping at the boy’s nose, and Charles decided to remain very still.

Elliot pulled himself up as tall as he could. “You are right; forgive me for lying. I am Prince Elliott.”

There was a great deal of muttering from the crew, but the Pirate King ignored all that. His men came back from below decks, and one whispered in his ear. He nodded, and stepped toward Elliott with a feral grin. “Tell you what, princeling. Now that we’re being honest, how about a deal? You come with us, and I spare all those refugees downstairs. By Fortune’s breath, I’ll even repair the ship, keep ‘em from starving to death. What do you say?”

Elliott bit his lower lip. “And what do you intend with me?”

Jasper shrugged and paced behind Elliott. “Dunno. Might sell you; could get a lot for a fallen prince. Might try to strike a deal with the Conqueror, see what you’re worth to her.” Then he leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Or I might get bored and just decide to kill you one day. Just for the fun of it.” He pulled back and watched the boy. “So what will it be?”

Elliott glared up at him. “You swear that the people on this ship will not be harmed?”

“I swear it.”

He debated only a moment longer. “Make sure they have enough food to get them to the nearest port, and we have a deal.”

Charles cried out, but both Elliott and the King ignored him. “Do you really think you’re in a position to negotiate?” the King asked.

Elliott said nothing. Finally, the King flashed a grin. “Well, you’ve got more guts than some of the royals I met. Alright. Deal.” Then he grabbed Elliott by the scruff of his coat and dragged him off. “Get this ship repaired pronto!”

Charles watched, tears in his eyes, as Elliott was dragged aboard the Fortune’s Blessing. Even after the wyvern flapped back to the King’s shoulder, all he could do was lie there and weep.

8 May 2023

This one’s pretty short. I was traveling at the time, attending a wedding, so I was squeezing things in were I could. I think that’s another reason I went for fanfic; I didn’t want to spend too long figuring out what was happening. So here’s my take on what’s going through Malenia’s head during the opening cutscene to her boss fight. There’s one more of these I’ll post tomorrow (10 May 2023), which would eventually lead into the alternate route/side story for Malenia. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to it, though; I’d prefer to prioritize my own stories.

When she woke, everything, especially her memory, was blurry and indistinct. She had the feeling that a piece of her was missing, but she didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was or where to look for it.

One thing she did remember, though, beyond the flashes of gold and rotten red from her dreams, was him. Her brother. He was… gone. But he heart beat with hope; he had promised he’d return.

By the time she had fully roused, she realized someone was standing before her. She didn’t recognize him, but there was something… His armor, in particular, made her incredibly wary of him.

She narrowed her eyes and drew her sword. “...Heed my words. I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat.”

7 May 2023

I don’t typically write fanfic. It feels… strange to me, I guess? Regardless, Elden Ring sparked something, and I think a lot of that has to do with Malenia. I find her fascinating, both as a boss fight and as a character, and I low-key wanted a Malenia ending on top of the existing ones. Even after playing with the idea for a year and a half, I’m still not positive what that looks like, but I at least had a general idea of how it started.

Then I heard Aviators’ amazing song Half-Wolf about Blaidd, and I had a thought; would the needle free him from the Elden Beast’s influence? So I decided to write a scene about it.

Malenia followed behind the tarnished warrior, looking warily around as they strode through the Carian Manor. “Was this not the lair of the witch, Ranni? I rather doubt she would be pleased to see me…”

The tarnished grimaced. “She… isn’t here. I have reason to believe she’s on the Moonlit Plateau, actually.”

This only confused Malenia even more. “Then why lead us here? The Carians hold no love for me and my brother, not that I can blame them.”

The tarnished stopped, then turned to look at Malenia. “That needle, from Miquella. It can remove the influence of the outer gods?”

“Yes, generally.”

“And would that extend to the Erdtree and the Greater Will?”

“It should. Though… No matter the entity, if the hooks are deep enough, you may have to kill the source…”

He chuckled darkly. “I doubt that will be and issue.” He turned ahead, his eyes distant. “There Is… a good friend I want to save. He is one of the fiercest warriors I’ve ever known, and loyal. So loyal, in fact, that he sacrificed his own sanity rather than betray his lady.”

Malenia’s eyes grew wide. Memories flashed, of a pair of half-wolf soldiers. Brothers. They’d been loyal–more loyal than she’d thought possible. At least… until Miquella had slit from the Golden Order to create the Haligtree. Malenia still remembered the feel of their flesh on her sword.

She shook herself out of her reverie. “You can’t mean…?”

“Blaidd. His name is Blaidd.” The tarnished breathed in deeply through his nose, and readied his halberds. “Could I ask you to stay back and watch? If it’s at all possible, I’d like to avoid killing him.”

She almost denied him, but the tarnished so rarely asked for anything. “Very well. But if you die, I will kill him. I don’t care if you’ll come back, touched by grace.”

That earned another chuckle. “Thank you.”

Malenia watched as the tarnished found his half-wolf friend. It was an intense fight, in large part because the tarnished was pulling back on his attacks. He kept baiting the half-wolf warrior, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

And then it came. Blaidd thrust with his sword, and the tarnished narrowly dodged. He dropped his weapons, and with one hand grabbed Blaidd’s wrist, while with the other, he pulled out the needle and jammed it in the opening just under the armpit.

The half-wolf staggered, almost collapsing into the tarnished’s arms. When he pulled back, the madness was gone from his eyes, replaced with a growing anxiety.

“Old friend?” he said quietly.

The tarnished flashed him a sad smile. “Come. There is much to talk about. And not all of it good news.”

Malenia watched them enter the rise and decided to station herself at the door. It felt… intrusive, somehow, to involve herself further. Not for the first time, she wondered exactly what connection her savior had with the hated Lunar Witch.

6 May 2023

This feels like the first real introduction to the second major antagonist group; the yokai army. They feel a lot trickier to work with; I want to stay true to original Japanese legends, but also leave room for Hanako’s middle ground. Regardless, I wanted the yokai army to be positively brutal, and I think I achieved that here.

Also, we’re finally going to meet Mei. :) She is a very fascinating character; I’m not 100% sure what all I’m going to do with her yet, but it’s going to be fun.

It took a couple of days for the three of them to reach what was left of Tsurui. The smell of char hit them before they could properly see it, but it wasn’t long before they stood in the midst of the desolated village.

Many of the houses had burned down, and those that hadn’t had been smashed apart, as if a giant child had decided he was done playing and knocked everything over. The worst of it, though, was in the village square. A pile of bones lay smoldering. As soon as they found it, Daiki, the younger of the two workers, immediately turned and hurled onto the street.

Fumito looked a bit green, himself. “They just… burned everyone alive? Why?”

Pushing down her own nausea, Hanako approached the pile. With her sword, she poked among the bones. Many still showed teeth marks; some were even cracked to get at the marrow. She managed to cough out, “They… they weren’t burned alive. This was what the yokai did with the ones they’d finished eating.”

Fumito’s eyes went wide, and soon he was spewing out the contents of his stomach next to Daiki. Hanako closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe, then turned away from the pile to see if there was anything she could learn about the monsters that had done this.

She noticed one house at the edge of the village that seemed somewhat better intact than the rest; instead of being caved in, it was only the windows and the door that had been smashed open. It seemed the ushi-oni had spared this one for whatever reason.

Cautiously, Hanako stepped in and immediately wrinkled her nose. The smell of urine and other foul scents permeated the place; had the yokai army saved it as an outhouse? But no; Hanako found manacles, and then began seeing other traces that prisoners had been kept here. This must be where they stuffed everyone they hadn’t eaten during that initial feast.

Not that it stopped some of them from sneaking a snack before they left. In the corner, Hanako found a skeleton, with bones far too small to belong to an adult. Her blood froze, then started to boil. With tears in her eyes, she screamed, with such force it [could be heard for miles around]. 

Daiki and Fumito came running over. Hanako gathered her composure. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” She paused and heaved a breath. “We should go. There’s nothing more we can learn here, and the sooner we catch up to them, the better.”

As they left, however, a woman’s voice called after them, “H-hello? Is someone there?”

Hanako spun on the spot, hand reaching for her sword, only to find an exceptionally beautiful young woman running toward them. Her hair was black and tied back in a braid, and her clothes, while filthy, seemed to have once been of high quality.

5 May 2023

Well, I have more of a backlog built up than expected, considering how much time I wasted this summer, so for a while, at least, I’ll be double-posting again. It’s also been long enough that many of my thoughts on what I’ve written have gone fuzzy, especially for today’s posts, which I actually typed in months ago and just never posted on here.

I do know that I feel the crew’s reactions are way too muted for their circumstances; they should be pissed off, and even if they can’t really act on that anger directly, it should still express itself in some way. Wouldn’t surprise me if Jasper even revels in such things.

While Jakob surveyed the damage, Charles and Elliott headed above deck to see what was going on. The whole crew were dispirited; some were shaking with fear, while others just shook their head and looked at the Siren’s Lament with pity.

Their sister ship had already pulled a league or two ahead of them, and the pirate ship had drawn close enough Charles could make out the faces of individual pirates.

And just like Jakob had said, none of them gave the Dragon’s Flight more than a passing glance. All of their focus was on the Siren’s Lament. Charles noticed a man with sandy blonde hair, perhaps in his mid-20s, standing at the helm. He wore a bright scarlet coat with the sleeves rolled back to the elbows, and a green wyvern draped itself around his shoulders.

The man in the scarlet coat gave an order, and their cannons thundered. One of the masts on the Siren’s Lament cracked and fell, and it stopped dead in the water. They raised a white flag, but the pirates didn’t care. The man barked the order again, and another volley of cannon fire tore into the hapless ship.

The passengers and crew of the Siren’s Lament panicked. Some tried to prepare longboats, while others jumped straight into the ocean, trying to put as much distance as the could between them and the doomed ship. All the while, the pirates unloaded volley after volley, and did not stop until the ship had finished sinking.

Charles couldn’t pull his eyes away. His entire body shook, and nothing he did could make it stop. Next to him, Elliott bent over the railing and threw up. When he finally stopped, his face was pale and sweaty. He and Charles shared a look, and quietly collapsed onto the deck.

Soon, the pirate ship pulled back alongside them and prepared to board. Charles finally saw its name; the Fortune’s Blessing. He looked again at the remains of the Siren’s Lament and shuddered.

Jakob came back above deck right as the pirates began to board. The man in the scarlet coat was one of the first to arrive, and Charles noted he had an earring in one ear, a fang of some kind. He looked around, then demanded, “Who among you is captain?”

Jakob stepped forward, arms folded across his chest. “Aye, that’d be me. What can I do for you?”

For several long, intense moments, the man stared at Jakob. There was a sharp glint in his eyes, and Charles was sure Jakob was about to die. Then he smiled, which was quite unnerving, and offered a handshake. “Jasper. King of the Pirates.”

Jakob hesitated only a split second before he took the pirate’s hand in his. “Jakob.”

The Pirate King shook once and let go. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be helping myself to the contents of your hold. That alright?”

With a snort, Jakob answered, “Couldn’t stop you if I tried. Not with my ship in this state. Still, don’t tink you’ll find much. Got caught up in that mess back in Averny; with all the refugees, didn’t have much space for cargo.”

The King’s eyebrows rose, and his smile widened. He nodded at a couple of his crew, who headed belowdecks, probably to verify Jakob’s story.

3 May 2023

Hanging out with family is not particularly conducive to being timely with things. Especially when I’m a time zone over…

Anyway, this is exploring some potential story arcs for the end game, particularly Roland, who I was thinking could actually be the exact opposite of what I imagined, and be the one inviting foreign powers to take charge for one reason or another. This is trying to get a feel for that other power. She is not Asian, if she even exists; I went back to a more Egyptian vibe for her, after all, shortly after this.

I sit across form a woman straight out of Egyptian history; dark hair, tanned skin, lots of gold jewelry with her Egyptian-cut white dress. The room around is just as lavish; almost too bright for my eyes. I look over the Cleopatra look-alike again; I doubt she’ll be staying like that by the time I’m done. But who knows?

Then I have a thought and snap my fingers. The aesthetics shift, and we are sitting in an Asian tea room, and a very Chinese empress now sits across from me. I’d been considering adding or changing things to include oriental dragons; would this work?

The queen gives me a knowing smile. “This certainly does feel more comfortable.” She takes a sip of her tea, and for a split second I thought I saw fox ears. She’s certainly not a kitsune, but all the research on Japanese legends lately, especially Tamamo-no-Mae, is affecting my perceptions. How would I want to handle this?

For a long time neither of us speaks; we just study each other carefully. Then she says, “I hear you’re not sure if I even truly exist. Is that correct?”

“Indeed. I need a major threat Roland himself created; I’m not sure that has to be you.”

“Oh?” She leans forward. “And what, pray tell, would you replace me with? Volcanoes?”

“Perhaps.”

She scoffs at me. “As if anyone would accept that.”

“We’ll see.” My smile turns devilish. “But first, my dear queen, what on earth drives you to fear Agthere so much?”

She freezes, looking for all the world like a teenager caught sneaking back into the house past curfew. “Whatever do you mean?”

I lean back and waved my hand dismissively. “Come now. This is a story about courage, especially here in Book 1. Charles arc is about overcoming, and helping others overcome, their own fears. Am I wrong?”

When she didn’t reply, I continued, “And if you are the antagonist, you must serve as a foil. Ergo, you would have to be motivated by fear.” My smile turns malicious and I lean forward to rest my elbows on the table. “So then, tell me, O Queen, what are you so afraid of? And what do you intend to do about it?”

1 May 2023

I’ve always found fae fascinating. Deals, exact words, true names… I don’t know that I’ll do much more with these characters; perhaps finish this scene/short story, and leave it at that. But who knows? We’ll see.

The clank of a blacksmith’s hammer rang over the homestead. Fynn didn’t recognize the old man, though something did seem familiar about him. After looking around for a bit, Fynn finally found David. He called out to his old friend, with just a touch of suggestion laced into the words; he needed David’s help, and on the off chance he was still sore about what happened last time, a little… persuasion could go a long way. “Good day, old friend! How goes the farm?”

To Fynn’s surprise, the magic found now purchase in the young man, sliding right off him like water from a leaf in a rainstorm. The young man turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Do I… know you?”

Concern tickled at Fynn’s heart, but he hid it behind a jovial laugh. “Come now, David! Surely there are better times for games!”

Behind him, the clank of the hammer stopped. The blacksmith spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “Leave my son out of your schemes, Fynnelion Summerchild.”

Fynn was rocked to his core. Those words carried power, especially with the use of Fynn’s true name. What’s more, Fynn realized why the old man looked familiar. He spun slowly to face the blacksmith. “David?”

28 April 2023

I really hate our internet.

I really liked this scene, though. Even if the presentation is different, this scene comes directly from the dream that started this whole story. Well, that and specifically when the second ship is actually blown out of the water. The name of the second ship is probably going to change; I’m pretty sure its current name is the title of a comic on Webtoons I saw and read a bit of, though I’m not sure. If not, I might just keep it. Also, I figure they wouldn’t necessarily have the same motifs for their version of the Jolly Roger; I’ll have to figure out what I want to use instead and how to communicate that.

I am also considering, almost certain, that rather than send the boys to Moira’s ship, Jasper gives Moira and Arylwen this ship. Dunno if it got it’s current name [the Dragon’s Flight] before or after they took over, though, so it might change in this scene still.

There was a shout from the crow’s nest, and old Jacob’s face turned pale. He pulled out a spyglass and looked off to the horizon.

“What is it?” Charles asked. “What do you see?” He squinted, as if that would help him see farther.

“Pirates,” Jacob whispered. “And not just any pirates. It’s the bloody Pirate King himself!” He spun and barked a furious string of commands, eyes focused as he strode the length of the ship. Charles couldn’t understand more than half of them, but the crew scurried about, racing to keep their ship moving as fast as possible.

At a gesture from Jacob, they signalled their sister ship, the [Siren’s Lament], and even from here Charles could see how their crew, too, burst into a frenzy of action.

“I-is the Pirate King really that scary?” Charles asked. “Scarier than the Dark Conqueror?”

“I don’t know about that, but he’s terrifying enough. Unpredictable.” Jacob set his mouth to a grim line. “Run along down with the other refugees, lad. Leave this to us.”

Charles wanted to protest, but Jacob looked as serious as Charles had ever seen him. Reluctantly, he headed below decks. Almost immediately, Elliott came over and started interrogating him. “We can hear the crew up there, busy as bees. What’s going on?”

“Pirates,” Charles said simply. “Jacob said it was their king.”

There were more than a few gasps and sobs from the other refugees. One even fainted on the spot.

Elliott’s own face soured, and strode to the stern, Charles on his heels. Soon enough, he’d found a porthole and smooshed his face up into it. Charles squeezed in next to him.

By now, the pirates’ ship was clearly visible, even with the naked eye, including the flag featuring [a dragon’s wings]. Combined with the black sails and all the cannons, the ship looked very intimidating.

Over the next hour or two, the boys took turn watching the pirate ship creep closer and closer. It wasn’t until then they heard the distant roar of cannonfire, followed by a column of water bursting upwards just a hundred or so yards behind them. There were a couple more shots, as both they and the [Siren’s Lament] returned fire, but they were still too distant yet to do more than try to warn them off.

But one didn’t earn a moniker like “King of the pirates” by backing down from a fight. The pirate ship continued closing in, and soon enough they were exchanging fire with both refugee ships. 

Then, there was a pause from the cannons on the [Siren’s Lament]. Worried they’d been hit, Charles darted over to a portside porthole, and saw that no, the other ship was fine. They had just been turning their cannons…

Which were now aimed directly at the Dragon’s Flight.

Charles could only stare mutely as their sister ship prepared to fire on them. Elliott barely had time to pull him down before cannonballs tore into the ship, leaving them crippled in the water.

Only a moment later, Jacob stomped down the steps to survey the damage. “Tend to the wounded,” he ordered the refugees, “and stop up the holes as best you can. Ship’s carpenter’ll be along when he can.”

From there, he headed over where Elliott was stilling covering for Charles. “You alright, Your Highness?”

Elliott shrugged and sat up. Charles looked up at Jacob. “Why? Why would they do that?”

“Because they’re damn fools, that’s why,” Jacob spat.

“They thought, since the pirate ship had us outgunned and outmaneuvered, only one of us would escape. Then they wanted to make sure it would be them, am I right?” Elliott’s voice carried more than a trace of bitterness.

“Like as not. That was a mistake; must not have heard much about the latest King o’ Pirates. May the Goddess have mercy on their souls.” He saw the confusion in the boys’ faces, so he explained, “This King might be unpredictable, but if there’s one thing he hates, it’s cowards. And what’s more cowardly than shooting an ally in the back so you can escape yourself? He’ll sink ‘em without question.”