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you-are-my-neverland · 3 years

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nano 2020 final update

now playing: a playlist for yourself sad (slowed down songs)

final wc. 57, 114 words

general thoughts:

let me try to keep this short: i won!!! honestly, it was very exciting, considering this is like my sixth nano and the only one i’ve cracked an actual 50k on - ahead of schedule, too! (and on that - congrats to everyone who wrote this month! you all did awesome, even if you didn’t make your goal <3).

my writing pace slowed a little, which was fine - we did have thanksgiving break, but honestly that was just for me to further relax (& upon return the stress of school slammed full force hhhh). it’s been a bit tricky because i do have a large ensemble cast of varying importance whose relevance will likely cycle around, but incorporating them into the story is difficult. i’m trying to build relationships for further chapters, but without forgetting or sidelining anyone too much. it’s been a bit crazy, especially since my outline is not super detailed and i didn’t ever get around to writing my character arcs for book 1 like i was planning on. oh well.

we did hit the first little conflict hill though!!

the future:

honestly, i don’t know where i’m going with this - not my wip, but like with writing it and posting updates. this is technically my final nano update, but like i don’t plan on stopping writing this regularly because might as well ride with it, you know? anyways. i think when i have a title, i’ll make a wip intro about it. hopefully my writing doesn’t peter off - i’ll have to try to police myself, like that ever works out (well it did this year but. you know).

if you want to be on a taglist for future possible updates, let me know! right now it’s just @semblanche <3

also here’s the pinterest which i am still building and organizing (i’ll create a spotify playlist in due time)

some scenes:

(beneath the cut because i went a little overboard)

“You jest,” Eden said, looking amused. Ophelia noticed he wasn’t wrinkling his brow as much anymore, as if the headache had finally gone away, or at least she had distracted him from it, which she took as a win.

“I am only ever perfectly serious,” she said.

“I don’t doubt it,” Eden replied.

They looked out at the ocean a while longer.

notes: ophelia and eden (& sebastian) as friends with a certain vibe that i really like ... they’re kind of cute okay <3 but insofar platonic

“That’s fine, I always keep elastic ones on me,” Luce replied, continuing to chat as she began to braid after dividing Ophelia’s hair into a neat part. “Your hair is so nice and straight. It does whatever I want it too. I usually practice hairdos on Laurie, but both of her hair never wants to obey the laws of gravity or force, you know? I’m not pulling too tight, am I?”

Ophelia, who had actually sunk into a relaxed state and felt rather as if she had transcended—it had been so long since someone had touched her hair, her mother stopping brushing it long ago—almost missed the question, before quickly saying, “No, it feels really nice.”

notes: trying to build and integrate ophelia, luce & briar friendship so ophelia can have actual good friendships, also because healthy girl friendships are necessary for any good work xD

Asriel glanced at her over his shoulder, the flames casting a sharp outline across his narrow profile. “It’s not my fault if you take offense to every small thing. Maybe you should think about why you consider that to be a personal attack on you. Perhaps you’re doing something wrong?”

Ophelia exhaled sharply and looked away from him, her fist dropping to her side. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, and it was so infuriating that she almost wanted to cry—cry over the fact that a single sentence made her want to cry to even begin with.

“Forget this,” she said, forcing herself to speak slowly as to not betray the tightness of her throat she felt all of the sudden. “I don’t need to go with you. I’ll make it out on my own. Have fun in the dark.” She stormed past him, shoulder checking him into the wall, and focused on her feet and surroundings carefully, not willing to embarrass herself any further.

“Ophelia,” Asriel said. Just her name. Nothing else. It was enough to make her stop, even as she insistently told her feet to keep going. She looked just barely over her shoulder at him and saw his body sigh with the sound of it leaving his lips. “Let’s go together,” he said, coming up to stand next to her.

“No way,” she said. “You might ‘need’ me, but I definitely don’t need you.”

notes: anyways ophelia & asriel are supposed to be like rivals and the reader isn’t supposed to like asriel that much, but also my personal bias shines through in my writing and i once again make my intentions obvious (enemies to lovers hghjskjs)

She opened her eyes and looked up to see Asriel staring back at her, sitting on the ledge and dangling his feet, a hand still over hers, despite the flames that had started to dance across his skin as well. He didn’t so much as flinch, though Ophelia could make out the slight reddening of his skin beneath the fire. She frowned at that and considered reeling it back in, but who was she if he wanted to risk his life? People got burned. It wasn’t anything that a healer couldn’t solve.

She was struck by his gaze. Not that it carried much intensity, but by the fact that it didn’t—he looked at her as he looked at everything else, with a gaze that simply swept by one momentarily and deemed it not worth his interest. Nothing was worth his interest. Nothing made him smile or laugh; he only frowned, slightly, at some things, sometimes at Ophelia, but he never looked at her with the burning hatred she felt he must see on her face every time they made eye contact.

notes: uh oh this rivalry might have been one sided the entire time? hm.

“You could have killed me.” When she looked up, her eyes were rimmed with red and her voice was raw with some unspoken emotion.

Asriel didn’t flinch. “It was a risk I was willing to take.”

“You don’t get to gamble with my life,” Ophelia said, spitting out each word as if they hurt her to say.

“It wasn’t even real,” Asriel replied, unbothered and unfazed.

“Merlin,” Ophelia whispered, looking away and then staggered to her feet, hands clenched into fists at her side. “I hate you so much. I wish I had made all of you burn alive.” She turned and slammed through the door, letting it bang shut with an echo that resonated throughout the room.

notes: oh yeah. this is why she doesn’t like him lol.

“How classy,” Bell drawled. “Ruel, do you think he should be allowed to rebel with us?”

Ruel shrugged her knobby shoulders, popping her bubble and swallowing the gum back between her teeth. “We shouldn’t invite people.” They exchanged a look with weighted emotions in their eyes that felt much too serious for the current situation. Asriel felt his fingers tighten around his arms, cutting off the circulation, as he waited.

“True enough.” Their heads turned in unison to blink at a still standing Asriel: Ruel’s heavy lidded pale gray blue ones and Bell’s dark brown eyes with the thin double eyelid crease.

“See you around, then,” Bell said. “If it’s fate, we’ll meet again.”

Asriel bit back a scoff, a short huff escaping his lips instead. “If that’s that you believe.”

“Ah, so he’s a skeptic,” Bell remarked, voice cold and eyes narrowing.

Asriel gave them both a long look, feeling slightly amused at the conversation and somewhat curious about what a further one would entail.

“I don’t believe in fate,” he said. “And even if fate does exist, it’s far from impartial.”

“Is that your way of saying you doubt we’ve made fate’s favorites list?” Bell asked, looking like they were half joking and half actually interested in what Asriel had to say.

“I don’t know,” Asriel said. “Do you honestly believe fate has taken any notice of you at all?”

“I’m not one of the Divine,” Bell said. “So I couldn’t say, honestly. Could you?”

Asriel let his hands drop to his sides, where he tucked them into his pockets and ignored the burn and pain that came with the movements.

“I would hope,” he started softly. “That fate has no plans for me at all. Good day.

notes: asriel pov asriel pov asriel pov! the way he’s one of what i like to call the core four (not me writing cour fore rip omg, but also that’s sebastian, ophelia, vincent, and him - our mcs if i ever had such a thing) but this is his first pov in 50k. bell & ruel are two minor characters that kind of wormed their way into my heart and now i think i’m attached - maybe they’ll all be friends.

#writers on tumblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #nanowrimo 2020 #nano 2020 #wip: nano 2020 #fantasy #friendship #eh whatever #12.3.2020 #chapter eight was a good chapter.#the way i have a projected ~31-2 chapters and like 1/4 of the way through the chapter count we're at 50k #omg #guess i'll go wild then #this is a long update rip #i just see asriel and i fall in love with him #he's like draco malfoy. but also he is NOT draco malfoy at all in the slightest it makes no sense

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brexodus · 5 years

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The City is Strange

I think Split was the first big city I'd visited since Torino (Turin) in Italy. I just wasn't ready for it.

You see, I'd been travelling mostly by smaller roads, through smaller places and although, yeah you've got Venice and Mistra and Verona and Trieste (Trst) and Ljubljana and Rijeka (Fiume), none of them compare to Split for size and infrastructure. Verona is too venerable, Mistra you skip for Venice which is unique beyond any comparison, Ljubljana is actually quite compact (they've pedestrianised a lot since 2006), and Rijeka is beyond the nightmares of any sane cyclist. Split has the dubious distinction of all the roads going in being dual carriageway motorways. So I had to risk it and join one of these nightmarish things at the end of my descent, still bit wasted, then after find my hostel.

And of course, beyond the traffic problems and battery issues, the street of the hostel is not properly signposted, it being a weird little kind of stepped cul-de-sac running parallel with the main road to the harbour. I spent a half hour going up and down, till I saw two chaps with bulging rucksacks that screamed backpacker to me. So I stopped and spoke to them and yes, we were all looking for the same place. And eventually we found it together.

In real Slavic style, outside was a small table around which a wee group were casually drinking. The lovely friendly receptionist, Anna, checked me in and I put myself into the mindset of 'let's get unladen, get food, get sleep!' I meant business. However one of the drinking party, an attractive dark-haired woman of perhaps mid to late thirties, took it upon herself to get me to play instead. Damn, I was torn between my head and my hips. Now, people who know me know I have a surfeit of energy which comes from oversized balls (and ego), which can often lead me astray; however in this case, utter fatigue from the previous days' cycling, plus all the booze etc, made me desperate to just finish the chores before I collapsed completely. Also, with this woman becoming ever more handsy, I was more than a little embarrassed as to my state: not having washed or changed my clothes for three days I could smell myself (and it was not good).

Nope, I had to be firm but polite, I had to get shit battened down stowed away, and wash, before I could even consider food, let alone romance! And I doubt she would have been terribly 'romantic', to paraphrase Van Halen: she ain't talking about love, her love was rotten to the core [insert suitable emoticon]

Well, I said I'd be at her disposal just as soon as I'd taken care of everything. Despite it all, I was still just another silly male following the divining rod. Unpacking became a whirlwind of activity, my new friend even lending a hand. Then I went for a nice hot shower, telling her we could go for food together after, and maybe more later.

Well I came out the shower feeling fresh and clean and potent. But my new friend had just disappeared. No-one knew where she'd gone, or even if she was staying at the hostel that night. With hindsight, I think I dodged a bullet, much awkwardness, and a reason to stay any longer than necessary in Split. The whole thing left an impression on me though, I am not used to this kind of upfront 'affection' from the fairer sex, and I have to say I was quite flattered. We Brits (and the French too) are kinda repressed. Or not enough so when we drink: there seems to be no happy medium (or endings), for anybody.

Anyway, that was merely the first weird thing I experienced in Split. I decided to just dress up nice anyways and have a good meal down by the sea. Got a recommendation from helpful Anna at reception and freewheeled down to the port where the restaurant was located. Well, the unsavoury vibe I'd had in Novalja returned. The whole place was packed with every type of western tourist you can imagine, and indeed it follows that the more *ahem* coarse elements seemed to predominate, what with them being louder and more obnoxious. I saw the roads to the harbour jammed with taxis and adverts for '8 day party boats to the Islands', which is a red flag for me (and not the good socialist kind). And everywhere the clamour of clumsy drunken Brits bawling to each other and discussing cocaine and booze supplies from across the street. So crass, especially as I hadn't heard anything like it since Novalja, or seen the like, well ever. I missed the tranquility of an open road, these roads were a honking mass of unhappy metal.

I found my restaurant, and asked nicely for the outside table (to keep an eye on my bike). Well they were kind of ok about it, less than accommodating seeing as I was alone and anglophone. They then asked I move my bike under the table cos it was blocking the pavement. I obliged. And then the food came, oh man. It was slow-cooked beef cheeks in a red wine reduction with mushrooms and caramelised onion, fresh bread and salad on side. With a half-litre of red to accompany. All quite delicious.

But spoilt by the surroundings. As it got later I saw more and more party people who I just was not in the mood for. If only I could've somehow 'muted' not just their voices, but their clothes and 'theatre'. I was rather tired and fed-up, but the good food and fine wine helped. Until the bill came.

It was rather more expensive than nice Anna had led me to believe. About 38€ - they charged not just for side salad but also the freaking bread! Yes you pay for quality, and yes it was a treat, but 38€ is like three or four day's of decent living for me travelling. I'd eaten just as well for far cheaper in Pavia, Ljubljana and just north in Ražanac. Ach, I took it on the chin (or in the wallet).

Another strange thing happened before I went to bed. When I returned to the hostel, I was finally able to meet those folks sharing my dorm. Which had a lightswitch to change from normal to green lighting. Bizzare. Anyhow, under these green lights a young lady was just about in tears as she tried to wrestle open her secure locker. These lockers were just like the ones you see on American high-school shows, and come with your bed at the hostel. But this poor girl's locker had jammed, her key would turn but nothing would move or open! And she needed her wallet from inside to pay something urgent (I think was booking flights home, or train or something). So I went and kindly asked Anna to make up some tea and I brought it to the girl, while I got my tools out and started probing the lock (I wish I could make this sound less sexual, but mechanics know how hot it is to delve right into a problem). Eventually I managed to move the interior catch and open the door. Oh man I rarely get the opportunity to see such joy! Especially transmuted from such misery.

She grabbed her wallet and went to close and lock the door again, but I stayed her hand. I wanted to make sure it was functioning smoothly before we tried locking it. She passed over the key and I started fiddling with the mechanism and catch, realising quickly that it was the door itself that had been deformed. All I had to do was bend it back into shape with my spanner, and voila! After demonstrating it to her and giving back the key she gave me a crushing hug and I saw she was again close to tears. It was kinda adorable.

Well I needed a smoke to unwind after the day and night I'd had, so I started to skin up. During this time, the locker girl, another girl, and I had a very interesting conversation, about racism in different countries, and travelling and future plans, all that jazz. Now the second girl was interesting, she sounded not quite London, and not quite Alabama, was dark-skinned and holding a Canadian passport. Quite a background. So she had some fascinating insights to share (Canadians hate blacks too it seems). The locker girl was a tiny cute blonde from Finland (oh man those Finnish girls: terrifyingly clever and all too often also intimidatingly beautiful... *sigh*), and this was her first time abroad as she wasn't even 16 yet! I felt quite glad I'd been able to keep it 'professional' during our interaction, mind you that day I think it was a case of the flesh being willing but disgusting, and the mind had turned to some kind of lumpy but helpful sludge. My inner creep had been anaesthetised. Yup Split was a weird one. Was likely best I'd remained unentangled. The most (nay only) normal part was my bedtime spliff!

Even though I wanted to see the impressive historic sites of Split, I knew I did not want to stay any more time than strictly necessary among such distractions and within earshot of the rude hoi poloi. I would leave the next day. Fit-in sight-seeing as a detour before I hit that awful motorway once more.

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rookie-dm-disasters · 3 years

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Chapter 9: Someone’s Crabby

After a brief rest in the town of Tammel, the party was ready to head back to the goblin infested cavern to explore the rest of the cave. They had gone the same way they did the last time, following the river upstream that came from the cave itself. It was another peaceful walk through the forest on their way back. Assuming the goblins had not yet discovered the bodies of the dead minotaur, they should still be fine to go through the cavern unhindered, or at the very least, get the jump on them and take them out quickly. The small hill appeared in the distance once again and they saw the unguarded entrance to the cavern. They went into the cavern and saw once again that all the goblins were still looking for something amidst the plants in the wide, circular room of the cavern. The goblins were distracted and were completely unaware of the party when they entered. Thorfreyer looked at his party and said, “Don’t worry, I got this.” And took a step forward. Niama tried to stop him but was too late. Thorfreyer yelled out to the goblins, “Line up for inspection!” causing the goblins to quickly snap to an attentive stance. They all lined up, ten in total at this point. Some shivered and shook in fear as the minotaur walked down the line, eyeing them intensively. He yelled out again, “Everyone face the wall!” At that command, the goblins took a moment to look at each other with a bit of confusion. None of them were quite sure that this was a part of a standard inspection. Their fear for Thorfreyer outweighed their confusion and the complied. They all turned around and faced the wall of the cavern. At that point, Thorfreyer gave a quick signal to the party while lifting his axe. He yelled, “Now!” and swung his axe in a massive arc, decapitating three of the goblins with a single blow. The rest of the party attacked on his signal. Nariel, Niama, and Veldora fired arrows and pierced goblins through the head while Rum cast a divine spell to drain their life away. Pumpeck ran in and ran her sword through two of the unsuspecting monsters. At that point, only three remained, but they realized what was happening far too late. Pumpeck and Thorfreyer picked off one more each while an arrow found purchase on the third, sent from Niama. Thorfreyer looked at the party with a big grin and said, “Told you I had it.” Niama shook her head slowly. “Just tell us the plan before you try anything.” Thorfreyer waved away the statement. “Yeah, whatever.” The party returned to the statue of the dwarven wizard once all the goblins were dealt with. They looked again at the outstretched arms with the upward facing palm. They noticed this time that the palm of the hand had a few grass stains on it, and noticed again the inscription that read, “Formula for greater restoration.” Rum scratched his head. “Well, I know that greater restoration is a potion. I’ve never brewed one myself, but maybe we just need the ingredients.” Nariel and Veldora volunteered to do any of the work with finding plants. Nariel had a good education growing up and knew a good deal of plant identification. Veldora lived off the land most of the time and became skilled in making a few of his own tinctures. However, neither of them knew what was required for a greater restoration potion. They recalled that the room they fought the minotaurs in was lined with books and had a desk filled with beakers of various sizes. They figured it entirely likely that the previous owner of this cave was a skilled alchemist who specialized in making potions. If they could scour the books, they were likely to find the recipe somewhere in there. They went to the room and got to work. There was a plethora of books in this one room, each one about plant life and how they functioned. In the process, they also found a book on plants that were used in various alcohols, which rum pocketed when no one was looking. After finding books on the growth cycle of plants, formula for poison antidotes, paralysis antidotes, and even bizarre potions that could make one completely immune to magic for a time, they finally found what they were looking for. In a notebook on the desk was a handwritten formula that had been scratched out and changed many times, was a formula titled “Greater Restoration.” The final formula had been circled and underlined three times. Which was a pretty solid indication that was the formula that they needed. The exact plants that they needed were listed in the formula and exactly the amount of each one. No pictures of the plants were shown in the text, but Nariel and Veldora were proficient enough in botany to find the correct plants within the cavern garden. With the plants in hand, the group returned to the statue and placed the plants in the hand of the stone dwarf. Once the plants made contact, there was a flash of green light from behind the statue, and the wall melted away. When the wall had completely disappeared, it was revealed that there was a staircase leading deeper into the cavern. The crew looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Niama looked down the stairs into the darkness and said, “There may be more goblins down there. We need to go take them out.” Thorfreyer agreed. “You’re right, we have a job to do.” Niama and Thorfreyer started walking down the stairs before the rest of the party could say anything. Pumpeck quickly ran in front of them and said, “No, let me go first. If anything happens, nothing can break through my defenses.” Niama had a moment of concern for Pumpeck. She was certainly worried about her safety but recalled that Pumpeck has been completely fierce in battle. Even if anything did attack, they probably couldn’t get past her shield anyway. Niama nodded. “Alright, go ahead.” Pumpeck raised her shield and prepared her sword for an attack. Going down the stairs, they descended into darkness. The only ones that could see anything were Nariel and Niama thanks to their dark vision. All the others had to guide them were the stairs that determined their path. Nariel and Niama didn’t think about it and forgot that their friends couldn’t see in the dark until it was too late. At the last possible moment, Niama realized that Pumpeck was blinded by the darkness, and yelled, “Door!” Thunk! “Oowwwww.” Pumpeck whimpered. Niama could see she was rubbing her nose but didn’t look injured. Niama put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe those of us who can see should be in the front.” Pumpeck looked up at her, sniffled, and nodded. Niama pressed her hands against the door and slowly opened it. The moment a crack was made in the door, light poured in to the stairway. Everyone was momentarily blinded by the sudden ray of light beating against their eyes. It took a few blinks of the eye to adjust to the light, and they continued through the door. They entered a large, circular room that was made of fine worked stone. It was not the stone of the cavern above that had occurred naturally. This was a stone that was clearly man made, and various dwarven runes were inscribed along the walls. There were four hallways in the room. The one they had come from, one that led straight ahead, one that went to the left, and one to the right. The runes along the walls emitted a light so the whole room was well lit. They continued into the room with caution, not entirely trusting the runes on the wall. As they entered a sparkle on the floor caught their attention. It appeared to be a large bronze coin. Rum bent down to pick it up, thinking to himself, Lucky. When he got closer, the coin sprang to life. From its sides, eight legs sprang out launching it into the air. Rum jumped back in surprise and watched as this living coin landed. When it did land, it produced two arms in its front that looked like claws and two stalks grew out of it, each one topped with a black orb that could only be assumed to be eyes. The small creature stared at them for a moment, and then looked directly at Rum. It waited a second, and then waved slowly. The creature scuttled away, quickly going down the hall straight ahead. Thorfreyer looked at Rum. “What was that thing?” Rum shook his head and made his way after the creature. “That’s my new best friend, that’s what.” Thorfreyer looked back at the rest of the party. “Guys, I think we are pet shopping for Rum now.” Niama walked past Thorfreyer and followed Rum. “Just follow the damn crab.” The party begrudgingly followed suit after Rum. They didn’t entirely like that Rum was suddenly going after this thing, but as long as they were continuing the exploration of the cavern, they didn’t entirely mind either. They caught up to Rum just in time to see him watch the small creature slide under a door that was at the end of the hall. Rum reached for the door handle and the party quickly yelled at him to stop. Niama grabbed his wrist. “Rum, we don’t know what’s in there. For all we know, that thing was made to lure us into a trap.” Rum shook his head. “No way. That thing looked way too friendly and cute to be malicious.” Rum moved for the door handle again, disregarding what his party was saying. He slowly opened the door and saw a small library inside. The crab was scuttling to the center of the room towards a circular table. It climbed up the legs of the table and rested on the top. The table itself had a single chair and sitting on that chair was a dwarf who looked exactly like the statue on the floor above. The dwarf stood from his seat and slowly approached the party. In a deep gravelly voice, he said, “Greetings. I am the wizard, Tenris.” Rum took a step forward to meet the man. “Hello, Tenris. I hope we aren’t disturb-“ “If you are seeing this illusion, it means that I am long gone and have returned to my home in Storm hold.” Niama leaned to Pumpeck, “Is this guy for real? Leaving an illusion message? What ever happened to just leaving a letter?” Pumpeck looked up at her and shrugged unsure of what to make of this man. Tenris continued. “I apologize for my abrupt departure. I had meant to provide the nearby town of Tammel with a gift that should help with their goblin problem. That gift should still be in the treasure room. I came to this area for its unique plants, which I thought I could use to create an elixir that could cure my sister of her disease. It hasn’t been cured by any of our clerics and they ran out of options. I came here in hopes to create a unique cure. But my time is up. My sister’s condition grows worse and I am needed for aiding in the battles to come. I must take back what I have and hope that it is enough to save her. To whomever finds this message, please give the orb to the people of Tammel, and good luck in your future endeavors.” The image of the dwarf then flickered away, and the party was left alone in the library, their only company being each other, and the small metal crab. The crab stood still for a moment, watching where the image of the dwarf stood. It hopped down from the table and ran out of the library. The party quickly chased it down the hall and the crab made a sharp left in the circular room they entered in. The party started to follow after it, but Thorfreyer stopped and said, “No, I’m not following that crab anymore. That guy was a wizard, and that crab is some wizard shit, and I’m not dealing with it. We’ve been around too many wizards lately and they’re all freaking weird. I’m going right.” And without waiting for the party to acknowledge what he said, he started walking away. Pumpeck looked at the rest of the party and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll go with him. You all go ahead.” Pumpeck ran after Thorfreyer to catch up. The rest of the party continued following the crab. Thorfreyer and Pumpeck found themselves at the end of the hallway. There was an opening that seemed like a door should have been there leading them in to a large square room. Littered about the room were various pieces of armor and weaponry. Scorch marks covered the walls and floor. “What do you think this is?” asked Thorfreyer. “I’m not too sure.” Said Pumpeck. “Maybe it was some kind of training room? Argibold had us fight a suit of armor, maybe this guy animated suits of armor for himself to fight for exercise.” It was the best theory they had at the moment, though it didn’t entirely matter at the time. They started searching the room for anything useful. They dug through the various weapons to find anything of a nice make, or quality. Pumpeck saw an axe, the blade riddled with dwarven runes. While all the other weapons appeared to be rusty and in disrepair, this axe was in pristine condition. While she was holding and admiring it, Thorfreyer strode over and picked it up while Pumpeck still held on to it. Thorfreyer held her up to his face and said, “I’m keeping this. I’m bigger than you.” Pumpeck let go and landed on the ground. She looked up and him and said, “And I’m smaller than you. What does that have to do with anything?” “I’m stronger, I get the axe. Simple.” The barbaric society that Thorfreyer had grown up in was starting to show. Where he was from, strength was truly the only valued quality. Pumpeck said, “You’re stronger, but I can heal people and cast divine magic. That’s still irrelevant.” Pumpeck sighed and shook her head. “Not everything needs to be turned into a competition, you know. We all have our own thing we are good at, and that doesn’t make any of us less valuable than anyone else. We are here to help each other.” She turned around and started walking down the hallway they came in from. With her back turned she said, “I was going to give you the axe anyway. I know you like them.” Thorfreyer looked at the axe, holstered it, and followed after Pumpeck. Veldora, Rum, Niama, and Nariel found themselves at the end of their hallway. There were two doors on opposite walls. One door looked very plain and made of wood. The other door was incredibly ornate stonework. Various runes and sigils were engraved on the door itself and the door frame around it. The symbols glowed in their own color, giving the impression that the door was emanating a rainbow. The crab stood in front of the rainbow door, its claws held up. Veldora looked at the door. Not entirely sure what to make of it. He said to the party, “You think its magic?” Rum looked at the door. As it emanated a rainbow of various colors, he could feel arcane power humming around the door with such force that it made his teeth rattle. He looked at Veldora and said, “Yes. Yes, I would say that this door is magic.” Veldora reached a hand out to open the door and Niama grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back. “Don’t. Touch. The Magic. Door.” She said with a growl. Rum bent down and picked up the crab, seeing that it was trying to reach the handle. Once it was high enough, the crab jumped onto the handle and put its claw into a small key hole. After a few clicks and fiddling with it, the crab brought its claw out and the lights of the door went dead. The crab jumped back into Rum’s hand and climbed up to rest on his shoulder. Rum could no longer feel any of the magic that had been there only seconds before. Rum looked at the small mechanical crab on his shoulder and said so quietly no one else could hear it. “I’m going to call you Paco.” At that point Thorfreyer and Pumpeck met up with them, and they saw that Thorfreyer was holding a new ornate axe. “Guys, look what I found.” Thorfreyer said, holding the axe in the air. Rum looked at the blade and saw the dwarven runes engraved on the blades’ edge. “I wonder if that’s the owner.” Said Rum. Thorfreyer said, “Who is the owner?” Rum pointed at the axe. “It has a name engraved on it. It says Ignis.” “Ignis?” As Thorfreyer said this, a spark lit up from within the axe and the blade was set ablaze. Thorfreyer stared at the flame in bewilderment. He says it again, slowly. “Ignis” and the fire goes out. It tests it a few more times, saying the word over and over. The flame flickers on and off with each passing of the command word. He starts laughing and holds the flaming axe in the air. “I GOT A FIRE AXE!” he yells. “Keep your voice down.” Said Niama, hoping not to cause any unwanted attention in the cavern. They still weren’t sure if they were alone down here. Niama approached the door and started to open it slowly. This new room was as well lit as the rest of the cavern with the runes carved into the walls. There was a single workbench at the far end and at the very center was a pedestal that held a green glass orb that was encased in what looked like vines made of silver. Once the orb was in their view, Paco jumped down from Rum’s shoulder and ran to the pedestal. He climbed up and waited directly in front of the orb. “What do you think it is?” Asked Veldora. “I suppose this is the orb that the image of Tenris mentioned.” Said Niama. “Though, I’m not sure what’s so special about it.” Pumpeck ran to the pedestal. “It’s really pretty. Maybe it’s a treasure for them to sell so they can have more wealth.” Rum approached the orb as well. “Something tells me we won’t know until we take it back to town.” He grabbed the orb and examined it. In his hands, he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. Throughout the silver vines encasing the glass, there appeared to be a total of eight tiny holes. He couldn’t imagine what they must be for and didn’t think much of it while he put it in his bag. They looked around the room to see if anything else could be hidden and found nothing. They left and went into the plain wooden door they had ignored before. This led them into a bedroom that was very barebones. All that was in here was a single bed, a treasure chest, a table and a plant. It was pretty clear that the dwarf really did intend for this cave to be a very temporary base of operations. Pumpeck immediately darted to the treasure chest saying, “Ooo treasure.” She flipped the lid and looked inside. Resting on top of a crimson satin pillow was a golden rod. The rod had small lumps in it that were a variety of colors. It was as if gemstones had been embedded into the gold itself, and the tip of the rod had even more, very small rods protruding from it. Each one was tipped with its own orb, each one a different color. Pumpeck picked up the odd rod and thought that it looked more like a children’s toy than a treasure a wizard would keep. Despite its appearance, however, she could feel some kind of magic flowing through it. It was a different breed of magic from the magic that is often granted to her by Liira. While the magic from her goddess felt like a tool in her hands to be molded into a shape in this world, this rod felt more like holding a wild animal. This magic she was holding was wild and free, and she knew that it could not be told what to do. Pumpeck placed it in her bag for now, not knowing what to do with it. The party realized there was not much left for them to explore in this cavern. It certainly was minimalist in its design. The party made there way up the stairs that they came from and left through the cave. On their way back, Pumpeck felt the rod she had found calling out to her. Without thinking, she reached in her bag and pulled it out. She examined it as they walked and heard a single word echo in her mind: Wonder. It echoed through her head as they walked through the forest and the compulsion took hold of her. She held the rod aloft and said, “Wonder.” A green light shot from the rod and landed in a field of grass. Once the light made contact, the grass in that area grew incredibly tall and incredibly fast. The once short blades of grass were now standing at five feet tall. The rest of the party looked at the field, then down at Pumpeck, and then back at the field. “Pumpeck,” Said Niama. “What did you do?” Pumpeck continued staring at the rod and said, “Looks like the rod made the grass grow.” Niama pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, it’s some kind of wand of grass growing?” Pumpeck shrugged. “The person who owned it grew plants for experiments. Maybe he used this wand to make plants grow faster.” Niama was unconvinced that this was the only thing this wand could do. “Try it again.” Pumpeck nodded and held the rod up again. “Wonder.” The tip of the rod glowed a faint blue and grew brighter as if it was storing up power. The air around the party started to crackle and hum with a faint power. Then, a large bolt of pure lightning shot out of the rod and into the sky. Everyone’s eyes went wide as the radiating power left the area. Thorfreyer started to clap and laugh. “That was amazing! Maybe I should start learning magic if it means I could do stuff like that.” Rum made a motion to start saying something but decided to let it go. He turned to Pumpeck and said “Pumpeck, please do not use this unless it is an emergency. Even then, probably don’t use it.” They had all decided that an item that can both grow grass and shoot lightning is probably capable of doing some other crazy things. They decided that they should hold onto it, but probably not use it. They made their way back to the town of Tammel and as soon as they passed the threshold of the town, Paco jumped off Rum’s shoulder and started to run to the very center of the town. The party quickly followed and as they ran, the mayor saw they returned and he started to follow them, wondering what the heroes were up to. When they finally caught up to Paco, they saw him trying to dig furiously into the ground. Rum ran to him and helped him dig. Once they had a small hole that Paco seemed to be satisfied with, Paco made a gesture that looked like a circle and pointed at the hole. Rum produced the orb from his bag and placed it in the hole. Paco climbed on top of it an placed the tips of each of his legs in one of the small holes that were in the orb itself. The orb began to glow with a faint green light and Paco climbed off and started to cover the orb. Rum helped again, and the moment it was covered, they all saw a green light begin to emanate from the ground and a barrier began to grow from the orb, made of green light. They all felt a wave of energy pass over them as the barrier grew, and when they were in the barrier, they felt an odd change to the air pressure and needed to pop their ears. Once the barrier was at its full size, completely surrounding the town, it disappeared with no light to be seen. The Mayor looked at Rum and said, “What did you do?” Rum took a moment to sense the energy that was now surrounding them. It felt familiar, like he knew this spell somehow. He recalled the priests of Eldath performing this spell back at the temple. He remembered that this was the same arcane signature as the protection from evil spell. The wizard must have known that Tammel was regularly attacked by goblins and made this barrier for the whole town to deter the evil forces of the goblins. Rum relayed this information to the mayor, who was a bit confused. Magic wasn’t something this town was known for, and no one really understood what the barrier was, or why it would help them. Rum tried to explain in the most plane of terms. “It’s an anti-goblin field. Goblins don’t like it, and if a goblin comes inside, they become very week.” The mayor nodded, seeming satisfied with that explanation. After a brief exchange and receiving payment from the mayor, the party made their way back to Waterdeep, with new treasures in tow, and a knew friend in Paco. They had a brief conversation going over what all had happened. Thorfreyer was holding his new axe, igniting it and extinguishing it as he swung it around. “So, there seems to be a war happening between some dwarves and minotaurs to the north. Those minotaurs said something about killing dwarves in Storm Hold. Maybe we should check that out. Could be fun.” Niama said, “Don’t be rash. A whole war may be far beyond what we are capable of.” Pumpeck said, “It would at least be worth talking to Argibold about. He may want us to do something, if he doesn’t do something himself.” Thorfreyer sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think he’s the type to do anything himself. Pretty sure he’s retired.” Niama tilted her head to the side. “You’re right. What does he even do all day down in that basement?” Thorfreyer nodded. “And now he has that weird half breed that was taking notes on us.” Pumpeck watched the two talk about Argibold, her head turning back and forth as if she could see the words bouncing off each other. She recalled what Dragovich had once told her about Argibold. He was ultimately pretty harmless, just not all there when it comes to socializing. She didn’t think they had anything to worry about as far as Argibold went. They returned to the city of Waterdeep shortly after sunset. Everything in the city was becoming calm as the light began to fade from the sky. They reached the doors of their base of operations, The Dusty Dunes Tavern. The night was lively, and music was in the air. They saw at the back of the room, below the stairs, a stage had been set up. Standing on the stage and playing a lute was none other than Willow. Looking closer it could be seen that where his hand had once been was now a green, gelatinous hand that looked like Argibold’s arm. Argibold must have taken some type of pity on Willow and decided to help him out by providing him with a new functional hand. Thorfreyer chuckled to himself. “Heh. Argibold gave him a hand.” Rum facepalmed. They could see Argibold at the bottom of the stairs with something that looked like a chisel. He was engraving some kind of runic script in the banisters. No one bothered him or seemed to mind much. If the people here were regulars, they were probably used to any oddities happening with the halfling. Dragovich was running around hectically bringing various food and drink to the tables. He looked like he was being run ragged, but that didn’t keep him from having a smile on his face. Pumpeck ran over to the stairs to see what Argibold was up to. “Argibold, what are you doing?” Argibold held up a hand. “One second.” He said. He chiseled a few more symbols and put the chisel away. He produced his wand and gave it a twirl in the air. The runes on the banister gave off a faint purple glow. At that point, the party noticed that it wasn’t just the banister. All along the base of the walls of the tap room began to glow the same purple. The glow remained a few seconds and then dissipated. The party looked around to see what the point was and suddenly saw surrounding Dragovich, various floating objects. Bottles, tankards, plates of food. They all appeared to be floating out of the kitchen as if they were being carried by some invisible force until they landed on the table they were destined for. Thorfreyer ran to Argibold. “Did you just summon ghosts?” His eyes wide. Argibold said, “No, that would be profoundly stupid.” He gestured to the room. “It’s an unseen servant spell. I enchanted the room so that we now have invisible waiters at our service. Dragovich said he needed some help serving the customers, so I made him some.” He dusted his hands off his robe. “Now then, back from the field, full report.”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #writing #amwriting #fiction #fantasy

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romanceinthevice · 4 years

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Early Refills for the Lonely Girl’s Soul

Chapter One: “Life Skills to Kill”

“The tide is high but I’m holding on.”

And the tide is made up of 75 (edit: 80mg actually, they allowed me an increase today) milligrams of thick Methadone that runs a marathon through my bloodstream. It always wins the race for nothing. It’s all for big nothing.

Welcome to the static years. I’ll be your unreliable narrator with a heart of a darkness. Did anyone else read that in University English-lit? I couldn’t get through that book. Then again, I could barely get through campus mid semester.

Die with the lie? (Insert French for yes)

I’m questionable at best. And a terrible fake crier at worst. I need my Methadone every morning or I think about stabbing the walls of my apartment. I need my coffee for the ride to the clinic or I think about crying in the middle of the parking lot. Middle-class tragedy. Spoiled since day one. I NEED. I NEED. I NEED. I need you to read this.

My death wishes used to be bad-girl-charming at 22. Cute in that worried type of way. “She’s such a mess, isn’t it fabulous? I just love how complicated Cat makes everything.” Fast forward three psychiatrists, two evictions, one overdose and a series of voided lovers. Currently they’re just a broken record of empty. No! Really! I look in the mirror and regret it instantly. These days I see right through my own smoke and static; the attempts to distract my social circle from the rattling pharmacy bottles. There’s not enough black lipstick to mute a friend who cares. But there should be. (MAC, take note.)

Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the shameful of them all.

You are. You really are.

End of Chapter One

But maybe it’s mandatory for an author to have a loud reputation. You know what?A writers persona should be shrouded in rumors anyway. Fuck it. The checkered past. An affair with their professor. Or maybe their student. A secret arrest during the holidays years back. Maybe a forgotten relative with unfinished business. A hit and run inspired by Johnny Walker Red. A blood soaked sweater in the back of their closet to remember.

I have convinced myself that every writer deserves a notoriety to keep the masses at arms length. My, my, my, the mystery!

But the troubled-addict-writer is a cliche. And writers hate cliches. But writers also hate themselves.

Well, the good ones do anyway. What? Too far? And where was I before I launched a tangent of misplaced-poor me-bullshit?

Mmmmm. Methadone. My clinic has the pink kind.

I’m not the only one hurting myself, I tell myself over and over.

I think about how dramatic I’m trying to be, wanting to sound right and profoundly right at that. I feel like a bad actress in a dying career resurrecting a classic play. No need for an encore. Just cut. Besides there’s an after-party that I need to disappear into for eight hours.

I hate introducing myself in the first blog. Anything I write feels like the wrong thing. It’s so forced, I’m convinced no one knows themselves that well. Especially not I. Isn’t it better to keep a distance? Perhaps we can be strangers who make prolonged eye contact across the room.

Hi, I’m Cat. I feel like I just moved here. (Wherever here is.) I don’t know how to describe myself without comparing myself to the status quo. So, shallow generalizations about women, here I come!

Most girls find peace in an afternoon of shopping. Or make-up at Ulta. They get lost in the aisles and yell funny remarks to their friends about fashion sensitive culture. Maybe I’m jealous. And by maybe, I mean, absolutely.

Or perhaps They stalk their ex’s social media for clues about them, as if they were solving a murder. A new Facebook friend? An instagram story that makes no sense? It’s not adding up now, but it will. Oh, it will. By the way, who the fuck is Alicia and why are you tagging her?

I’ve always been sicker than the others.i win! Damnit. As the in crowd of seventh grade used to call it, I am “fuckin’ weird, no offense.”

“None taken” I nodded back taking a knee during gym class.

I do like to shop, although always by myself in the lonelier corners of shopping centers. And duh! I stalk many lucky persons on a semi-regular basis. It’s the American way at this point, I do it for my country. But on top of these typical hobbies of the expected feminine divine, I’m orbiting a different side of town. The side that no one thinks to go to for good reason; it smells weird and has no relevance to most standards of living.

Bare with me.

I’m a curious party. I’m also a drug addict in the harshest way. The combination of these two factors equal my favorite hobby; reading pharmacology research papers. Yes, sir. complete with abstracts and hypothesis that outlines the right balance of factual accuracy. Gets me giddy just thinking about it!

I like knowing what the new, FDA approved antidepressants are categorized as. And why they aren’t as good as Prozac. But better than Paxil. And less harmful to the female orgasm. Ladies, you know what I mean. It’s a cruel game when you finally stop thinking suicidal thoughts but suddenly can’t orgasm. God is really a piece of work. A sexist piece of work, come to think of it.

These new prescriptions hold possibilities, a potential change for an addict in the screaming cycle of addiction. It’s hope, baby. I’ve got that shit, I can’t play the bad ass who doesn’t care about anything anymore. I’ve been there and got the t-shirt. I had to rip it off.

Goodbye apathy. I’m blowing you a kiss. Of death.

I’ve been a pharmacy baby since day one. Hell, I was a pharmacy baby hopeful-groupie-wannabe-poser before ever cashing my first Celexa prescription. Or maybe it was Lexapro. Oh well. Same thing. I was so excited to be an official member of all the statistics I read about.

The few. The proud. The prescribed.

It began with therapy in ninth grade for a knot of emotional problems that caused me to isolate and skip class 80% of the school day. My counselor found this worrying. I thought nothing of it. Who gives a fuck about geometry? I wanted to listen to Celebrity Skin on my disc man and walk around the outdoors. If life was a one off, I was going to sit in this meadow with Malibu blaring my ears into deafening bliss.

Girl power. I understood my selfishness on a promising level, one that spoke volumes about who I was going to be, a stunningly poised sociopath with nothing to offer most of society. Adults felt the aura on me most of the time and soon their would be meetings about my “goals” and “friends.”

No wonder people were worried. I was a walking red-flag of rage and I hadn’t even gotten my first period. I didn’t have many good reasons to be pissed off and I was usually morbid about something if I wasn’t in my bed. This wasn’t looking ideal for a freshman with zero college ambition and no interest in recreational activities that would accompany academia and no doubt introduce me to new social groups. I wasn’t athletic enough to play school sports, and I was too wrapped up in my depression (which had no real cause, according to my family).

And they were rightful in their judgment. I was better off than most of my school friends, sporting the latest lava lamp that glowed my room a deep purple or concert tickets that we would countdown the days too. I got to see Ja Rule and Ashanti up close and personal much to the dismay of my classmates deep in the bleachers bitching constant complaints.

I didn’t have it bad. And I knew it, which made me feel worse. I hadn’t the faintest idea what my problem was. I couldn’t smile anything or even pretend to for the sake of my parents, who just wanted me to have a normal teenage existence that didn’t kill every mood with some invisible, existential threat. I must have been the most annoying fourteen year old with a lava lamp.

This stubborn depression led me to weekly ninety-dollar checks that were flawlessly made out to one Dr. Pat. Pharmacy Baby’s first shrink. Awww!

We all have to start somewhere. My start was Thursday’s at 4pm. This appointment made me vacate the bu on an earlier stop than the routine one. Kids soon began to take notice. And they couldn’t comprehend why I had to see a doctor four times a month. I must have leukemia or some other young person disease they saw on Dawson’s Creek. I must have been really sick, dying really! Afterall, my sole school-bus pal Kendra saw her hair stylist more than her primary care physician and the dentist combined. Highlights are a serious thing, she would state this as seriously as a heart attack. It made me chuckle and she never understood.

Unfortunately, the punchline was that I was dying. At fourteen years old I knew this was the start of a love-hate relationship with “irony.”

At my worst I was existing and not knowing why. I was wanting to sleep life away. Sleep was the answer.

At my best I was killing my old-self, the girl who reeked of unexplained trauma and bad moods and now this annoying trademark “irony.” The metamorphosis came around the third month of counseling. An anniversary with Dr. Pat meant we drank hot cocoa and did worksheets revolving around behavior and choices. Fuck prom, I had Dr. Pat! I was blossoming.

And i was learning about the power that was “change” and how it could empower you like a butterfly. Or whatever insect fit the worksheets. I sometimes felt like a spider, but I never told Dr. Pat this.

It’s never easy to kill the old you. Even more demanding to bury the old body, and just praying it won’t come back from the dead and replace you. Hoping wasn’t enough. I had to ask with my eyes closed.

I wanted to be a butterfly. I needed my wings. (Commence the beginning of secret plans that were thoughtlessly detailed in my diary, ready to be exposed any minute to a league of jealous girls re-enacting Mean Girls). The writer inside me cringed. Privacy truly died before Twitter. No girls thoughts were safe. They would never be safe. I would need to find new ways for my secrets and dreams. Then, I would fly away into the night, into a new city of strangers, outside of a small minded town of familiars. I wouldn’t need numbers in my yearbook. I was going to find what I was looking for.

But what the fuck was I looking for. Sweet sixteen started to taste sour.

I remembered Dr. Pat told me, “Happiness is a butterfly.”

I wrote it down in my diary, much to my own dismay, hoping that it would be both safe and true.

By: Caitlin Alysabeth Thomas, March 10, 2020, “pharmacy baby blogs,” “Romance in the Vice.”

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