19 September 2023

So… It’s been a while. And I don’t remember much. So for a bit, I’m going to post three or so times a day, and work on refining everything with author’s notes and whatnot later. I’m impressed how much of a backlog I have, actually; it’s been hard to focus for a long time now.

Sarah wasn’t expecting a familiar to show up in her bedroom that evening. To be honest, she wasn’t expecting one to show up at all. She didn’t exactly fit the “magical girl” profile. Given the choice, she preferred to keep to herself, and her outfit tended toward dark colors, only softened by her golden-blonde hair. And even that she’d dyed black for Halloween last week.

And yet, here the thing was, a weird little pseudo-bunny sitting right on top of her AP Calculus homework. They stared at each other for a minute or two, when a male voice echoed inside her head. “How would you like to become a magical girl?”

Sarah blinked a couple times then scowled. “Heck no. Why would I want to do that?”

Prince Xavian Edwist von Hescher expected this to be a fairly routine contract. The girl–Sarah Dossinger, was it? – had few friends, and one of the highest compatibility scores Xavian had ever seen. By rights, she should have jumped at the opportunity; all his siblings’ contractors had.

So when Sarah declined, Xavian was at a complete loss. What was worse, she disregarded the idea completely, as if it was too much of a hassle.

“W-what do you mean?” he pushed. “Magical girls are granted access to magics and technologies beyond your wildest dreams! What’s more, they are afforded fame and fortune both here and among the Atlanteans. Why would you not desire that?”

To Xavian’s shock, the girl’s scowl deepened. “What person in their right mind wants to be famous? I have to deal with people way too much as it is. As for the rest, well. You know what they say. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Besides, I’ve got a pretty cozy life right now, anyway.”

Xavian couldn’t find words to reply to that. After several minutes where he gasped like a fish out of water, Sarah asked, “Could you move, please? You’re sitting on my homework.”

He hopped down to the floor, and the girl proceeded to ignore him to work on solving integrals and the like. After another several minutes, Sarah asked, “WHy are you still here? Don’t you have other people to bother? More contracts to make?”

“I… No, I don’t. I can’t, actually.”

That made Sarah pause. She pulled back to look at Xavian. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

Xavian flinched. “I, er… Well, it takes a lot to materialize an avatar and send our consciousness to this realm. Without the energy from a contract, it’ll take a while to save up the energy to go back.”

Sarah glared at him, making him shrink even smaller. “How long?”

“Er, it’s… a-about a week.”

“A week.” Sarah’s voice was flat.

“...Yes.”

After a moment, Sarah groaned and rubbed her temples. She muttered to herself, “Mina keeps rabbits, right? Maybe I can pass it off to her for the week.”

Xavian froze. “D-do you really plan on foisting me off like a common rabbit!?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’re the one who showed up unannounced. Why should that be my problem?”

Xavian’s fur bristled. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Not a clue. Not that I care. You skipped straight to your crappy sales pitch, and skipped right over introductions.”

Xavian finally realized how badly he’d botched this whole thing. He did his best to draw himself up regally and bowed his head. “My apologies. I am Prince Xavian Edwist von Hescher, of the Arcadian royal family.”

The look Sarah gave him was filled with disdain, but before Xavian could protest, she just shook her head and turned back to her work. “Yeah, I really dodged a bullet there.”

“Eh?”

“You said Arcadia, right? The fae aren’t exactly known for making fair deals. They’re all about half-truths and twisted words; more like Kyubey in Madoka Magica.” She shot a glance. “Not that you seem very capable of that.”

12 August 2023

Here is part 1 of Hanako’s battle for Nanmoku. Ironically, right after I wrote this—either that same day, or early on the very next—I choreographed the rest of the fight via graph paper, and then proceeded to sit on it for a month. Part of that was getting distracted by other things; there are a lot of amazing stories out there, even among more amateur writing communities like Royal Road. But I think I was a bit intimidated by the following scenes, too. Still, I got it, and they’re written now. Just have to write the aftermath…

Ah, also, about this point is when I started pinning down what the different kinds of oni are capable of; red oni are berserkers, blue are tacticians with an element of “drunken fist”, black (which I call ebony from here on out, to at least try to avoid unfortunate implications) are especially durable, and white/ivory have lightning powers. Still working on yellow.

As the sun sank below the horizon the next day, Hanako could hear the roars of angry oni, and could see the bolts of lightning falling on one location again and again. Even as a grim feeling settled in the pit of her stomach–she was too late to save the town–she also felt a bit of hope. If the oni were still fighting, then there was still someone to save.

That lightning would be a problem, though. Hanako had never had to fight an ivory-skinned oni before, and she didn’t exactly relish the thought. Ah well. One thing at a time.

Then Hanako broke out of the tress, and to her amazement, Nanmoku still stood whole and intact. It was surrounded by a shield of blue energy, which not one but two ushi-oni beat on, and was the reason the ivory oni was calling down lightning without stopping.

Roughly thirty other oni milled about outside, without any sense of order or organization. Most of the red ones, enraged at being denied their hunt, beat on the shield alongside the ushi-oni, while the blue and black ones held back and watched impatiently. One headed over to a row of caged wagons Hanako had missed, and with a start she realized that’s where the last survivors of Tsurui must be.

Memories of what she’d seen in that town washed over her, and the monster inside her roared. This time, though, she welcomed it. Channeled it. There was no need to hold back against monsters such as these.

The black oni by the wagon never had a chance to sense Hanako before his head fell off his shoulders. Five more oni died before the rest even recognized something was wrong. The others tried to surround her and kill her, but none were able to get within an arm's length of her and live.

Then the world turned white, and all she could feel was pain.

11 August 2023

Fera’s official recruitment of Kyra. Honestly, reading back over it, I’m not especially satisfied with this; I might cut it entirely, if the previous scene ended well enough, or I might rewrite it in the future. We shall see.

…twice and let go. “How would you feel about joining me on an expedition to the demon king’s castle?”

Kyra blinked slowly. “What?”

“You and me. Based on the scuffle last night, you seem quite strong. If you think it’s too dangerous, though, I understand.”

It took another moment for Kyra to catch up. Then she snorted and shook her head. “Hate to break it to you, but unless you can somehow get the saintess to join us, no way they’ll be letting us anywhere near the front, much lest into the heart of the demon realm.”

Fera pointedly avoided meeting Kyra’s gaze. “Ah, yeah. Um, about that…” She held out her hands, which slowly started to glow.

Kyra’s jaw dropped. After a few moments, she said, “You’re the saintess? Here?” When Fera nodded, Kyra planted her face into the palm of one hand. “What the hell did I do last night?”

“You stepped in when I was accosted by a trio of overzealous noblemen. Really, if you hadn’t immediately gotten sick, it would have been quite gallant.”

Kyra groaned, her cheeks flushed. She took a deep breath, and then she looked up at Fera. “So, let me get this straight. If I go with you, act as your bodyguard, you’ll give me a chance to punch that son of a bitch demon king in the face, yeah?”

Fera shrugged. “More or less.”

A positively feral grin formed on Kyra’s face. “Then count me in.”

10 August 2023

I wasn’t super happy with the timing and pacing of the scene, so the next day I rewrote it, let Kyra show up sooner and get dismissed. I also felt like I did a better job demonstrating that Fera is capable of taking care of herself better, but I think I could do more; perhaps in future scenes. That could be fun, actually. Someone—maybe even Kyra and/or the rest of the party—underestimates her badassery until they get to witness it first hand. …Might be too cliche. She still needs to show off at some point regardless, though.

“...offer, then?”

Before Fera could reply, the door to a nearby bar slammed open, and a tall redheaded woman stumbled out into the street. She had a hard look to her, and Fera couldn’t help but stare at the twin axes on her belt. She ignored the lot of them to retch in the alley behind them.

Fera took the chance to dick around and step away from the young man. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be better off on my own.”

The young man frowned, and his lackeys stepped in behind Fera. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous the city can be, saintess.”

Well, pickles. Why did every brat with a title think they knew what was best for her? Fera sighed and began gathering mana to her palms. It was amazing how often a simple flash of light let her escape unpleasant situations. And if that didn’t work, it’s not like she didn’t have other options.

As she prepared, though, the redheaded woman appeared behind the young man and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hey, asshole. She said no.”

The nobleman jerked back and began to draw his sword. “What!? How dare you–”

The sword was still halfway in its sheath when the redhead decked him, leaving him out cold on the ground, nose broken. Fera was so shocked she let go of her spell, letting the energy dissipate, while the nobleman’s lackeys cried out and jumped at the redhead.

She caught the first in the temple with a hook kick, then stumbled out of the path of the other’s sword. “Oof. Might have had too much to drink.”

The last young man roared and lunged, but the redhead dodged to the side and drove her fist into his stomach. Before he could do more than wheeze, she flipped him onto his back and knocked his lights out.

For a moment, Fera could only stare in shock. Then a wide smile broke out across her face and she hurried over. “That was incredible! Thank you, miss–”

The redhead held up a hand to keep her back, and then unceremoniously vomited all over the alley floor.

Kyra woke with a splitting headache. That wasn’t really a surprise, though.

A young blonde watched her expectantly from beside the bed. That very much was.

What the hell happened last night?

Once the young woman realized Kyra was awake, she beamed. “Good morning! How are you feeling?”

Still groggy, Kyra sat up, then groaned as her headache spiked. “Terrible.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry if this is insensitive, but… Who the hell are you?”

“Ah, yes.” The young woman held out a hand. “I’m Fera.”

Kyra eyed her warily a moment before she accepted the handshake. “Kyra.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kyra.” Fera pumped her hand twice and let go. “I’d like to hire you as a bodyguard.”

9 August 2023

I decided that the best place to start building my “goddess of battle” story — where Kyra kills the demon king while they’re sealed together and takes some of his powers — was to write down the backstory, so I could have it on hand and reference it throughout the modern-era story. I’m also hoping it will give me ideas, between world building and the party’s experiences together, that will lead to the plot of said modern-era arc. What flaws does Kyra have? How do they interact with the world? What flaws might society wind up with? Etc.

She certainly gives off a very different aura here than she did when we first met her, doesn’t she?

“Well? What do you think?” The young man in front of Fera flashed her a grin. His sword was still poised from the impromptu demonstration he’d given. As far as Fera could tell, he, along with his two companions, were all dressed to see who could best imitate a peacock.

Fera forced a thin smile. “Ah, um. Yes. That was… a very fine display.” And it was; very flashy. But “flashy” didn’t always mean “skilled”, and her journey to the demon lord’s castle was going to be dangerous enough as it was.

Still beaming, the young man sheathed his sword and stepped in closer than Fera was comfortable with. “Does that mean you accept my offer, then?

Fera ducked around him and stepped away. “Truly, thank you, but I must decline. I’ll be quite alright on my own.”

The young man frowned, and his followers stepped in behind Fera. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous the city can be, saintess. Much less the demon realm.”

Well, pickles. Why did every member of the nobility expect her to just agree with whatever they said? Common-born or not, she was the saintess, wasn’t she?

Fera opened her mouthe to tell him off when the door to a nearby bar slammed open, and a tall redheaded woman stumbled out into the street. She had a hard look to her, and Fera couldn’t help but stare at the twin axes on her belt. The redhead took one look at Fera, then the trio of men surrounding her, and managed to ask, “Need help?”

8 August 2023

I was much more satisfied with this attempt, though it does still have its own issues. I tried several versions of both Darrett’s offhand remark belittling Elsie, as well as Nick’s insult in response. Not 100% happy with either yet, but it’s greatly improved from some of my earlier ones. It feels kind of like threading a needle; for example, in Darrett’s case, I want something that is clearly dismissive and insulting to justify Nick’s response, while still being mild enough he doesn’t seem blatantly insubordinate to the princess.

…attacking me. Not that the scowl on my face helped matters any.

Tairsi’s eyes flared, and she grabbed me by the lapel. “What did you do?”

“Heck if I know. You lot are the ones who are supposed to be ‘in tune’ with magic right? You probably know more about what happened than me.”

To my surprise, instead of English, I spoke to her in perfect Elvish. Everyone, even… (see August 7) …learn Spanish.”

Tairsi let go, and I straightened my shirt. In English, I asked Elsenaia, “So, what now? Was that enough for you to trust us?” Then I recalled the fleeting impression I had during the dive. “Did you find what you needed?” Carefully, I rested one hand… (see August 7) …ready for anything.

“I… No, I did not.” Then in English, “But… At the very least, I know you hold no malice towards us.”

Darrett scoffed. “So you debased yourself for nothing, then? Typical.”

Something snapped inside me. With a smile that did not reach my eyes, I quipped, “That’s rich, coming from the king’s pet hound. All you can do is bark insults at your betters.”

The glade grew silent for a moment, then Darrett unsheathed his blade and lunged at me with a roar. I’d only gotten my pistol halfway out when a sharp crack rang out, and Darrett collapsed in front of me, clutching his leg. He reached for his sword, but Robin moved forward, gun in her hands. “If you so much as touch that blade, the next one goes through your skull.”

Whether Darrett understood her words or not, the intent was clear enough, and Darrett pulled his hand back. All the elves looked shocked, and Elsenaia’s face seemed pale. Tairsi muttered, “What manner of spellcraft is that? I heard no incantation, saw no magic circle…”

I shrugged, pulling my gun out and holding it to the side. “No magic. Just physics.”

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.

11 May 2023

I love the way this chapter ends. I don’t know if it’s going to be the actual chapter break, but I really like this moment.

There is something about jorogumo and similar entities that I find fascinating. Maybe it’s something to do with the combination of beauty and death? …Maybe it’s best not to think too deeply on that.

The woman crept out of hiding, and Daiki took a couple steps toward her. “Are you alright?”

At the sight of someone else alive, the woman rushed over, tears freely flowing from her eyes. She threw her arms around Daiki. “I, I was so scared! Th-they came, and… and…”

Daiki pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. We…” He turned to his two companions. “We can take her back, right? Or one of us could.”

Fumito nodded, but Hanako said nothing. She just stared at the woman.

Daiki either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “See? Everything will be fine. Once we–”

He started as a sword entered his vision to press lightly against the woman’s neck. He and Fumito both cried with alarm and protested against Hanako, whose eyes were as steely as her sword, never wavering from the woman.

Without the slightest shift in her expression, Hanako told them, “I’m a bit disappointed. This place was just ransacked by yokai, and you immediately trust a pretty face just like that?”

The men’s eyes snapped to the woman, who tried to shake her head at them. Hanako glared at her. “You can drop the act; I can smell you. You’re a jorogumo.”

For the longest second of Daiki’s life, no one did anything. Then the woman smiled, far too wide to feel natural, and then shifted. Her hair changed to a glossy black, reminiscent of chitin. Three more pairs of eyes opened on her face, and hr clothes appeared new and fresh, cut in such a way as to entice men.

With one hand - the fingers of which were just a bit too long and spindly - the jorogumo pushed the sword away from her throat. “Very well. No more illusions.” She refocused on Daiki and bowed low. “A pleasure to meet you, good sir. I am called Mei.”

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.