Tag: writing

  • My best of 2024

    My best of 2024

    I didn’t do quite as much writing for public consumption as I have in most years since I started blogging regularly in 2008. Some of that reduction was due to me taking a step back at Sounder at Heart, focusing my work content on video briefings and emails, and Full Moon Storytelling being a “when inspired” project rather than an income generator.

    Here at Full Moon Storytelling my most popular writings over the past year were older materials.

    My custom backgrounds and my take on Sports in D&D remain popular as well.

    In fact, that’s where my biggest D&D related project ever came from, and one of my favorites of 2024. I helped out with Worlds To-Go: The Elysians.

    My contributions were five custom backgrounds, most completely new, plus formalization of sports rules including inventing two new sports — The Pentiad and Constellations (a team juggling sport that creates constellations).

    Here on FMS my favorite of the year was Goodbye Alignment. Hello short-form personality. In that article I encourage people to continue to use personality traits in their games, but make them as short as alignment! Then the DM and other players can grant Inspiration based off of something small enough to remember as opposed to the original 5e personality system that was six long sentences that no one remembered.

    There was also a quick review of the 2024 Player’s Handbook.

    If you ever need a quick 5-room dungeon and associated adventure, pick a pop song and convert it into one. That article may not have been well read, but I’ll refer to it when I’m back behind the DM screen.

    I stutter. Sometimes a little. Sometimes a lot. A personal essay I felt compelled to write after a re-watch of Agents of SHIELD, it also falls into the not-well-read column, but it meant a lot for me to share this about myself. It was not the only personal essay of the year. The other was about how the fragmented storytelling technique of D&D may fit me better than novels or short fiction.

    Soccer stories

    For the most part at Sounder at Heart I’m now the weekly columnist, sending out a large newsletter that covers one important topic, plus everything else you need to know for the week.

    Choosing the best of these was easy, because one of them helped change the approach from the organization towards the US Open Cup — Ship’s Log, May 7: Let’s win trophies again.

    My second favorite was about using the Club World Cup to sell the world’s best players on the region that I’ve chosen as home for all of my adult life — Ship’s Log, Dec. 6: Selling Seattle.

    I still dipped into journalism, covering Defiance’s new coach and the new practice facility. Walking through history is one of my favorite pieces of soccer writing ever (and there’s about 5000 of those).

    Factal

    Most of my writing at Factal is in emails. Some additional material is in the various Global Security Briefings I hosted this year, covering news like the Key Bridge collapse, bomb cyclones, DANA storms, mpox, Olympics security and more. On the blog I supplemented editors’ writings on Olympics security and for our year in review.

    Finding me on social

    • Mastodon or a bridge if you are on Bluesky (where I prefer to have most of my RPG and soccer thoughts)
    • Threads (a wider mix of who I am)
    • Instagram (mostly pics of my dog, the moon and soccer stuff)
    • LinkedIn (almost all safety news, intelligence and marketing)

    P.S. That jersey on the header was for the soccer team I sponsored this fall. I’ll be sponsoring again in the spring, because supporting my friends is fun.

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  • When your escape is also darkness

    When your escape is also darkness

    I think my creative nature, both writing and D&D, started during my parents divorce. I turned towards stories of hope, or rising from darkness and fellowship. These were the things I enjoyed in fiction and helped me during those times. In my youth I was at my most creative during high-stress periods — then, high school, the Army, my mother-in-law’s cancer diagnosis and eventual death.

    My creative energy was often an escape from reality.

    I think that’s typical of artists, if I can call myself that. For me writing about Sounders soccer and D&D and the things that I enjoy have been that escape for various points of my multi-classed life. Currently I help market a news-as-security service. I see a lot of bad news. For the past year that’s meant that I have been writing more, crawling out of the darkness that was so deep during the various phases of pandemic jobless and deep despair.

    The last year was a good balance for my creativity — not too dark, but enough that I needed to write still.

    A funny thing happened over the past few weeks though. The hobbies that I use for an escape were also covered in shadow. The whole thing around the OGL with D&D ended my motivation around Dungeon 23. For the Sounders there is a sponsor that has so many of my friends and fellowship angry.

    Sourness eroded my interest in putting words to blank screens. These unnecessary community damaging decisions harmed my ability to escape.

    I didn’t want to rage, because my writing isn’t about rage (any more, now that I’m middle aged).

    I wanted to not think about the decisions that didn’t bring me joy. Instead of creating 365 nuggets of lore and place in my fantasy world, instead of sharing the joys of Renton being the Sounders second home, instead of being hyped for player signings, a new book, a movie I just stared at the blank pages.

    They weren’t a way to escape darker feelings.

    Friday some of that changed. Wizards of the Coast repealed many of their most controversial decisions, now releasing a thing called the 5.1 System Reference Document in the Creative Commons as CC-BY 4.0.

    I cried tears of joy.

    A darkness turned brighter. An emotional night had a beacon of light.

    Then I called the Tacoma Stars versus Empire Strykers MASL game for Sirius XM FC. It was a thrilling game with a supernatural performance by the Strykers goalkeeper. Seeing the coaches before the match, Toth after the match, the players meeting fans on the floor after it — all of that reminded me why I love creating around soccer.

    Writing is a funny thing for me. It’s what I do professionally and semi-professionally. It demands parts of my soul and parts of my mind be clicked together like a puzzle. Much of my process is a puzzle without a guide to what the result is going to be. I work through iterations in my head, but what if those iterations are blocked by a negative ooze?

    I pause.

    Writing doesn’t happen. It slows. I do the labor, but without the passion. I read my passion. My best works are those where my soul is exposed with fellowship and joy rushing out.

    And because emotions are what they are, reactive to outside influences, having brightness in my hobbies is vital for my creativity. The full moon of storytelling seems to be back. Now, I wonder what the next story is.

  • Creating a new world

    Creating a new world

    It comes with just a single question. What if? What if I started a new blog? What if we talked about fantasy fiction? What if the stories told coincided with a role-playing game? What if I set myself back two decades and cracked open Dungeons & Dragons again?

    bard-dave
    Every storyteller needs their tools – a good mug, a notebook (or netbook), a satchel for tokens and memories and a block of cheese maybe some sausage, and a trusty sword.

    What if the themes were strong adult subject matter that made for gritty tales of life, death and heroism? What if magic was real? And the gods could talk, but then they stopped?

    What if the continents were small, the peoples plentiful and not all human? What if humans didn’t believe in magic because it had disappeared in the only continent they know? How about making it so they are defined more by their cultures than by their phenotype?

    Have they stopped believing in themselves, in their gods? Do they see good and evil? How?

    Is there slavery? Why? Is there nobility? Can someone be both?

    These questions and the cascade of answers start to form more questions. It’s a nearly infinite series of responses. World building, particularly the creation of a world that breathes, is hard. Crafting a world-space that can withstand episodic gaming is harder.

    Take chunks at a time. That’s what Full Moon Storytelling will be. Small chunks of content for use in a campaign setting, built around a custom set of rules adapted from 5th edition D&D, but with accompanying tales. If the setting says “The Necromancer is just someone trying to be good” there will be a story that explains how that happened.

    As The Worthing Saga took a novella and broke out portions into branch stories, Full Moon Storytelling takes a campaign setting, rule set and crafts micro-fiction, short stories, plotless narrations and episodic adventures within the World of the Everflow.

    Maybe that’s where we start, not with a character, but with a story about a fountain that flows from a cliff and diverts along two paths – the Font of Two Paths, the Two-Headed Spring, Pool of Life, Lake of Wonder. The Everflow influences the western peninsula of Kin, is clearly unnatural and …

    This is Full Moon Storytelling. It’s a way to share writing, writing process and to think aloud, while words spring forth from tiny digits. Things will happen live, in front of you. Process will be as important as output. Creation is play. Come, join me at this fire under a full moon with clear sky as we look up through trees staring towards the open world of wonder, knowing that behind those trees at your back is whatever reality you can imagine.

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  • Inspiration Is Everywhere: Trees

    Inspiration Is Everywhere: Trees

    There’s a doc open on my computer almost every day. I’m crafting an original D&D adventure for a charity game come spring time. For that adventure I’m researching various tree-monsters. These are common in the fiction which is inspired by and that inspired Dungeons & Dragons. There’s Treants/Ents from Lord of the Rings and the Flying Forest and Sentient Trees of The Magicians.

    Within the game there are Awakened Shrubs and Awakened Trees in the Basic Rules. Kobold Press introduces us to a Dragonleaf Tree, in Tome of Beasts for 5e.

    But trees can help us with more than just monsters. They can inspire creative decisions. Look at this stand across the river.

    There’s some scarring from disease, or something, several dozen feet up. Take a closer look at that.

    Put your “not in the real world” hat on. What if that scaring was from a massive beast? What if the Giant Elk of this realm were so huge that their antlers (looking it up, yes elk have antlers) rubbed off that bark that’s a full 30 feet or so above the river.

    What happens when a herd of them walk the river during logging season with their massive legs crushing through or between the barges? Or are these Elk the friends of your woodland dwelling elves, gnomes, goblins, or other races? Are they ridden like elephants?

    The answers are up to you.

    Trees are also our mighty connection to history.

    Tolkien recognized that. The age of trees is why the Ents knew so much and also why they’d become peaceful and rooted. When you see so much life pass before you are the little lives so precious?

    In the World of the Everflow, the Dragonleaf Trees are ancient, from the era before legends, when Dragons and the other Ken were part of the world of Kin. But they are also dying. A breed that is honored while also being forgotten. They do not seed. They do not spread. There are only twenty or so of these ancient trees left, with almost all of them in the Tree District of Qin.

    When a tree is a millennia old what does that signal in your world? Are they like the trees of Solace in Krynn, with homes and workplaces scattered within the branches? Or is it a single tree from the time before time the sits alone in a desert, with roots that stretch hundreds of feet down and branches in the sky that reach to the clouds, a trade post surrounding this tree so big that it creates its own climate?

    Every journey you take. Every book you read. Every show or movie you watch. Every song you here. Every social media post you scan.

    They’re all inspiration for your world, your character, your dreams. Share them with your table.

  • Queen and Konstruct: A Goblin’s Lyfe

    Queen and Konstruct: A Goblin’s Lyfe

    There are two important things in a goblin’s lyfe. I’m talking about all of us, the gobkon, the hobkon, the mulkon — all of us — our relationship to the Queen and our Guild. This is hard for you humans, with all your divergent nations and cities and faiths and disgusting menagerie animals to understand.

    Goblin
    By creanita design und ausführung by nina saner (CC BY-SA 2.0)

    I’m a printer, part of the Ratxet Guild. My engines run on the power of muls (best!) or whoever else I can hire. The clockwerks give that comforting noise as sheaf and stamp press against each other leaving words behind.

    We’re into gears, mostly. But also some other interesting clockwerks. Frankly, we do better with springs than the Union does. Sure, they’ve the Queens’ Stamp – so we cannot sell to others. In our builds we don’t buy from the Union anymore.

    My first engine was a climbing device. Lean it up against a feral tar-tree and you’ll be able to get to the top on a platform to work that tree with nary your own effort. It was a tough build, because I needed it to be strong enough for a hob. Without a brother there were no hobs to help me. Sis rode atop my shoulders during the entire testing phase.

    At Test it showed a new mechanic for the tar-tree. A Baroness blessed the family via flag and decree. Mother’s standing improved, and the full family took on that glory.

    Now, sister is part of the Airxip Syndicate. They’re relatively new. Taking our bike-props and bladders from the Sisterhood, and the Federation’s tar stacks, the Syndicate built those awesome airxips. I don’t understand her werk. There’s something about steampipes. She’s done well for mother. Her flags came from a Countess, one for her and one for mother. Blerxa left on the First Flight with me.

    I’m Phatha Phioxa Baroness-flagged of the Guild. Sis is Blerxa Phioxa First-Countess Flagged and Many Unfurled of the Syndicate.

    We are what we build and how much the Ladies, may they serve the Queen, reward us for our werks.

    A few more daughters like us and mother could be a Lady. If Blerxa and I hadn’t left for the untamed lands of the Kin Blerx may have earned mother the knighting on her own.

    Our werks are trapped from knowing since we are far from Queen, so I expect mother to have a few more gobkon. Maybe I’ll find out if I go back, not until after I figure out how to use the power of horses in my next werk. They smell, but they are even stronger than mulgobs.

  • Arise & Descend Session Two & Three: Goblin Caverns

    Arise & Descend Session Two & Three: Goblin Caverns

    After being ambushed along the trail we learned of a cave from which these goblins raid the civilized folk along the merchant’s road. Within those caverns may just be Gundran and Sildar.

    So we headed out, an attempt to rescue the men responsible for paying us. We mount this rescue operation out of self-interest, revenge, whatever motivates the individual. We aren’t yet a band of brothers (and sister – Rowan), but this is developing.

    Spoilers for the D&D Starter Set adventure Lost Mines of Phandelver follow.

    Repelling the ambush wasn’t hard. My golden flame axe swung powerfully. The bell of death rung hard. These companions fight well. We are noble, and let one poor gobbo live. He told us where to go.

    It meant a hike, and we left the poor oxen and the burdened cart behind. But Sildar was to the north in the woods, up a stream through the woods, and into a goblin-cave.

    time lapse photo of river between mossy rocks
    Photo by Samuel Kalina on Pexels.com

    Outside the cave an outpost tried to ambush us. The wood elf, Norran, took quick care of those. I think Ambrose and Rowan joined that attack, as they have some effectiveness at range while Krakomand I, honorable dwarves, guarded the rear.

    Yeah, we’re also slow and not good with “stealth.”

    Two goblins dead before I could swing my axe.

    That meant the group was a bit inverted when we entered the caverns. Those faster members of the group rushed past a group of guard-wolves.

    The wolves could have been a problem, as they were trying to escape their chains and the uproar meant we would lose all surprise. They died, a couple with burns and blade.

    Krakom and I had to rush to catch the group. The “eating room” created an urgency from the group. In our haste the conflict spread throughout a handful of rooms. The fight was came from all angles and there was much confusing with the screams of pain from goblin and peoples.

    I, me, stopped one pathetic goblin from flooding the caves. I, me, also took a significant blow to the head from some kind of super-goblin. The wretched soul dropped me quickly. I woke a dozen minutes later.

    Ambrose, the ranger, told me of throwing a spear near through one on a bridge. I’m intrigued by spears now. I will not be able to sing with them, but they seem useful. The toothy one can teach me much.

    The stories of the battle are glorious. My friends took out 25 gobbos, a few wolves, and that one thing that smacked me on the head.

    Dear reader, this is where we learn that good Awf is not necessarily a reliable narrator.

    Rowan, by luck of her goddess, or through shear will takes out that jerk that dropped me. What a blessed soul Rowan is.

    Norran and Ambrose rescue Sildar.

    With Sildar, in a room I never saw, was a dark soul. Zardos is quiet. Withdrawn from us, the man offers much power. The others saw him in action, and vouch for his usefulness. His eyes carry knowledge.

    There was a lot of hauling of goods from cave to ox-cart and then the trudge back. Each of us had to make multiple trips. I may hate the goblins more for that then anything else. But when we traverse back towards the caves Krakom teaches me a game that shield dwarves play – golf(?) he calls it. Basically, the goal is to hit a round object (like a goblin head) as far as you can. There are rules, but we just do the long distance smacking, because it’s fun. We have to stop when Krakom sends a head out into an area we haven’t scouted.

    On the journey to Phandalin Sildar tells us about Gundren’s brothers, the goal to re-open a mine, that Klarg’s goblins are working to support someone(?) called the Black Spider.

    Thankfully Phandalin offers a short respite. There we can rest again, sell the goods we have, buy some rations and whatnot, and learn from some dude named Iarno Albrek, a friend of Sildar who is also a member of the Lord’s Alliance.

    I’ve worked with the Lord’s Alliance in the past, as they and the Order of the Shooting Star oft work together. With the Alliance’s goals matching ours, for now, it not only makes sense to help them, it is right and just to work together.

    For now, I’ll bring some joy to the children of Phandalin and whatever their local wines and ales are. Because I’ve got coin in my pocket – we earned our pay delivering the goods that Gundren hired us to bring to the city.

    We also have more goods to try to sell. And clues to discover, and honestly a town to improve. These people are down. Let’s get them up, again.

     

     

  • Fox, Crow and purpose

    Fox, Crow and purpose

    I’ve turned the lantern off, oil is expensive. There’s only light from the embers. This hovel isn’t much, but then again Ooshar isn’t much. It’s a frontier town corrupted by The Fox and Crow. The docks and lifts are slovenly. The Drop is essentially living dung. But the money is good. My family needs money.My daughter is sick. The Sheljar Guard offered up a spot out in Ooshar, so I took it. And then The Awakening. I’m constantly looking for swords, bows, weapons and now it’s even harder. I cannot tell who, or what, can cast these spells.

    I’m one of two outsiders in the Guard. The Ooshar peoples are pretty simple. They’ll be bribed away from simple stuff, take a cut from standard shipping and will never allow someone to harm their nation. They aren’t really loyal to Sheljar. The Captain? She cares, a lot. But she does’t have eyes for everything.

    My new team isn’t evil, just a bit selfish. I do not turn them in. They do not ask questions. I do not ask them questions. I work three days, off two, then three nights, off two. I work a lot lately. Rista’s body was just discovered in the waters.

    It isn’t busy. Estrella’s messenger shop has a fire. Her shop is always bright, pastels by day, orange lanterns at night. Most shifts I end by dropping a note for her to send to my family. It is simple.

    –

    You are loved. I’m sorry I’m not home. Go to the Emperor’s Bank. Show them this seal. Stay well. I’ll be back by winter.

    –

    Estrella knows me. I’m one of the few goliaths in service to Sheljar rather than raising geese, ducks, chickens or axebeaks. I’m just a big, dumb guard that normally manages Down River on Sheljar Side. I’m honest, and I think the families here like me.

    The others have fires, but now it is late. They are dwindling. I’m off. Jelse and Horold replace me and Jhom.

    “Pirti, go home, or wherever.” Jelse is a jerk. Rista is, was, his older sister. Losing another guard in some bizarre attack that leaves no wounds is frightening. It’s not that he dislikes me, but Jelse isn’t concerned with being happy today, or yesterday, and probably not tomorrow.

    So I drop the note off in the post-box for Estrella. She’ll send a pigeon tomorrow. I do not see Rohan. But I do see Tlipa and Pipa. They are two low-class idiots. They are struggling to hide in the bushes near ‘Strella’s place.

    I head home. It’s been twelve hours. Glight day is tomorrow. I do not need to work. Tlipa and Pipa continue to move towards the coops.

    My home isn’t much, just a room, a bed, a table and a stove for heat and warmth. I have one chest of goods with a lock and a rack where I store my spear, my shield, the cape of the Guard and the cheapest armor I could buy. My wife needs the money. My door has one window. The wall opposite it has the other. As I close the shutters I see Pipa enter Estrella’s coop.

    My lantern is a foot away. I snuff it out. The stove and chimney still have some heat. They offer little light, but it’s a two moon eve. I shutter the window with force.

    I want them to think I’m asleep.

    Slowly I open the door. ‘Strella’s home is many dozen feet away. There is a inker, a villien and a cheesemonger between us. I start to creep. How does a 12-foot tall man creep on a two-moon even? Carefully, slowly.

    There is a noise. It’s the snick of a lock. The inker has a lock, but he is off to the south. Estrella has a lock. It is her lock.

    ‘Strella reminds me of my daughter, but grown up a bit. She is sweet and caring. She is so loyal to her friends – Teegan, Kellamon, Piyu and Rohan. Mostly to Rohan though. She is fascinated by him. No one has seen the little shit for a couple of days.

    Estrella has been in tears during that time. Rohan and the rest saved her during the day of Awakening. When she felt overwhelmed they stood by her. At the time Kellamon and Piyu were strangers, but all protected her. More than anything she talks about how Rohan and Teegan comforted her, and how he protected them all. Her adoration for the little Kirtin halfling shows through.

    But tonight Tlipa and Pipa are moving in on Estrella’s home. The pigeons coo. That’s a constant noise. Jelse and Horold are looking down at the river, obviously. Jelse is emphatic that something is down there. Horold cannot see a thing.

    Pipa rises from the coop and climbs on the roof. Estrella has two rooms, because her home is her office. He is over the main door. Tlipa is in front of it. Tlipa, a goliath like me, breaks the door down.

    It immediately reforms. That’s Estrella’s thing. She can repair items quickly. Another massive fist bangs into the door.

    I run. Spear in hand and my warbler overhead, why did I go into the army with a warbler??!, I run. My letter must get to my family. They need vials of the Everflow. My money is the only way. A message from Estrella is the only way.

    Estrella’s door falls apart. Pipa has pried up some shingles on the roof.

    She’s just a girl that sends messages. What are they doing to her. If anyone is full of brightness and joy it is this young girl who cannot go back to her home because of a price on her head.

    I glance towards North River. Jelse is pulling Horold to look at something. That bastard is involved.

    Where others have certain powers after the Awakening I have nothing, but I’m 12 feet tall. That’s big for a goliath. I’m also not one of those Crinthians. I can think. I’m a free man in the Sheljar Guard. These members of the Fox and Crow are trying to hurt my friend.

    The dagger at my belt is in my left hand. I throw it underhand into Pipa’s chest. My dagger is as big as his femur. It’s also sticking through his chest.

    “By Sheljar’s rightful Emperor you will surrender.”

    My voice booms. Tlipa is my same size. Horold looks over.

    Tlipa is at the door, and then is gone. In his place is a skeleton surrounded in a purple-black apparition similar to a body. That thing, that corrupt thing, turns to me and wails.

    It is the scream of suffering. It is the scream of pain for thousands. It is the haunting cry of my daughter. I fall to my knees. That noise is too much. Huge tears fall to my cheeks and the ground.

    The wailing will not end. I’m stuck. I drop my spear. My warbler crawls into my beard. She is crying too. There is a rot in this voice from beyond. I collapse. My face falls into the mud created by the water of my eyes.

    A small dog, but no, not a dog. There is no form. Is this a nightmare? It comes to me and licks my brow without touching me. Sleep overtakes me as Rohan steps through the broken door. He has a staff, a robe and a book.

    I only have sorrow.

    A small voices wakens me.

    “Pirti, please Pirti, rise.”

    It is Estrella. Next to her is Rohan, the commander of death.

    “Please Pirti. We didn’t mean for this to happen to you.”

    I shake. I nod. I rise. Estrella’s voice gives me faith.

    “This?” I ask.

    “Rohan can prevent the dead from dying, but it has odd effects on the living.”

    “HE WHAT?!”

    Rohan smirks. “Those I love will never die. Those I hate will never live.”

    I lean on my spear. My daughter, little Llead, she can be rescued. Everyone loves her. If only I can talk Rohan into going to Sheljar.

    “Please, please,” I start to beg. Rohan interrupts. “Do not beg. You will live. I am only concerned with the Fox and Crow.”

    “No, I need help. My daughter, Estrella, tell him of my daughter,” I’m pleading. “My life does not matter. Llead needs you. She is rotting away. The blight has her.”

    Rohan looks to Estrella. She nods, knowing the truth. “Rohan, Master Pirti tells only the truth. Can this thing help him?”

    “I will try. You must keep safe. I will go to Sheljar. Find Piyu, Kellamon and Teegan. Tell them I’m leaving and that Willan wants you dead. Tell them to run.”

    “Why?” asks Estrella.

    “Because Tlipa is still under Willan’s control. Every night Tlipa’s skeletal form will try to complete its task – to kill me and you. Tlipa will try to do that until we are dead. Please, run. I cannot lose you as I lost Alleway.”

    Alleway is next to him. The terrier and a boulder occupy the same space. That tiny dog moves through the boulder beside the Kirtin-ish shepherd.

    Estrella responds, “We will run. Meet us in Telse.”

    Rohan smacks me across the head with his staff. I drop to the mud again.

    When I rise, I’m in the infirmary. There is panic. All that remains of the Guard is myself, Horold and a middle-age halfing that worked Glight Gate. Horold tells me that Willan’s forces are in charge of Ooshar. They’ve declared indepence from Sheljar.

    Trade still runs the river. The road is still a passage, but a petty gangster is in charge. A few outsiders left, heading to Telse and the Font of Two Paths. They hope that the Everflow can be sanctuary. Those that stay are haunted by the wailing of a goliath that will never die and a gang that will kill to take its wants.

    Rohan broke the town. But he got away. I pray to Selley, goddess of life and hearth, that Rohan can save my Llead. I pray to Glight, god of knowledge, that I may return to them.

    We hide. We hide and we hide for days. There are three of us. Hiding in the guard tower on the Ooshar Bridge means they will not burn us down, for the whole of the town will collapse.

    And we wait. Willan will have to make an offer, because we can bar the gate. But we cannot ask for much. I have a spear. Horold has his sword and mastiff. Old Davd has a goat, a suit of chain mail and the peculiar ability to create food.

    Please, Lord and Ladies of life and light, let my Llead live. Let Rohan help her.

    And so I rise. I have my spear. I have my reason. I’ve heard death, and it will not stop me again. I have my Llead.

    I step to the gatehouse door, slamming it open.

    “Tell Willan I will talk to him about Tlipa’s fate. Tell Willan that Pirti will speak now.” As I shout I slam the butt of my spear into the bridge. Its massive 60 foot wide, two-story, 700-foot long structure shakes.

    “Tell him now. Before I have to find him myself.”

    I have my reason. I have my Llead.

  • Alleway Lives

    Alleway Lives

    That petty gang that hangs in The Drop is up to something. The other day they cut a lift that Piyu was working. The trader from Qin, by way of Telse, lost a crate of dry goods, and the front of their boat needed repairs. It seems that riverboats don’t take well to cargo falling from several dozen feet up near the lower level of Ooshar Bridge.

    Plus, that poor trader lost one of his crew’s monkeys. I sent Alleway after the cut-boy. The little halfling scampered up a stair on Uphill side and then slipped through the crowds to Sheljar side. Alleway got stuck at the top of a down pole. Couple minutes later I’d found the little guy, at least he got quiet. It only took one time commanding him and now Teegan didn’t mind him around. It only took three years for her to accept the dude.

    Picking him up and scratching behind that left ear as the pup looked down the hole it was clear the cut-boy was in The Drop. The odor was there too. The Drop is where all the waste and feces collects from the Ooshar Bridge chutes. Then it falls into the river. North River is clearly marked and the gate only opens every few hours, but The Drop always reeks.

    I imagine that none can see us. A gasp behind me let’s me know that I’m gone, but noticed. I’m invisible and down the pole.

    Some meat goliath (Tlipa?) is there with the cut-boy Aron, little Pip, that human girl Rista and Willan that crusty, old halfling that they all looked up to. I scratch Alleway’s ear again. I can feel his tail wag, but he’s quiet.

    There’s a little nook behind Tlipa, yeah, it’s Tlipa. I slip off that direction. I can make that shadow and listen.

    “Aron, excellent, I needed that jade. It was an outsider, right?” Willan asks.

    “Of, course,” Aron responds. “She should be leaving tonight, came on a flatship.”

    “Perfect.” Willan tosses a few silver to Aron. The boy gets a huge grin. He pockets three of them, one just twirls across his fingers. Then he tosses it right at me.

    Obscon! I cannot move fast enough. My right hand drops to my dagger. My left hand drops Alleway. He yips as he hits the ground. He’s visible. I’m not. We’re down-pole. There’s a stair through a couple passages and doggie doors in the Drop, but Alle isn’t down here enough to know how to get home. Home for him is up. He can’t get up. He can’t get up!

    Willan, Tlipa, Rista, Pipa and Aron… where are their companions?

    I throw that dagger at Aron. Now I’m visible. Aron’s down. Whoa, got him in the neck. He’s down. A whelp and whimper comes from behind a set of crates.

    I look quickly. Tlipa’s duck just flies out through one of the holes. A little retriever follows after a whistle from Pipa. It’s two v. six. That’s not good. I’m alone. Estrella is expecting me back this evening.

    Can I dive that hole? No. It’s over a hundred feet down. There might be a boat there. Can’t wait.

    I cast my missiles – four of them. Pipa, Rista and Tlipa twice. Smack, smack, smack-smack. Willan opens a chest and tosses the jade in there. There are two books in there. I’ll review that memory if I survive. Alleway screams. There’s a Obs-worshiping rat biting him.

    Tlipa charges me. I duck, but that’s like a dozen halflings landing on top. I can’t pull a blade, plus I’m down to one. It probably wasn’t a good idea to merely wound a goliath. Bastards are huge.

    It’s been a few seconds now. Pipa collapses. I shouldn’t laugh, but the idiot sent her dog out the hole. Alleway growls, tosses the rat against a wall and chases it as it scurries away.

    I try to slip through Tlipa’s legs. Willan is staring at me and then I see horns. Oh, my, he has horns. I can’t do this I can’t escape. I’m out numbered and Willan is possessed with some kind of forsaken curse.

    Rista let’s out a blood curdling scream. I try not to laugh. Alleway’s a terrier. A rat is easy for him to deal with. He killed it. Crazy woman bonded with a rat. Still that’s two healthy against me, and one dude has horns. The other is nearly ten feet tall.

    “I was just watching,” I cower. “It’s just petty theft, and let’s be honest the Sheljar guard likes me less than you. Please, please, get the big ass off me.”

    Willan’s laughter is loud without echoing. He has powers. “Tlipa, up.”

    The command is immediately answered. Tlipa isn’t free. Unlike Piyu, he just found a new controller.

    “Please”

    Extra begging can’t hurt at this point. Willan has a gang behind him. I don’t think Alleway or I killed any, but they aren’t well and that’s our fault.

    Willan’s voice drops deep. It is filled with authority and I am filled with fear. “You are spared. Little Rohan, you are spared. But you are ours now. You do not talk to Piyu. You do not talk to Kellamon. You do not talk to your sister, Teegan. You serve.”

    Alleway is running back. The hole is still open. One of the chutes aimed at it empties a slush of feces, piss and rotten food. Alleway leaps over the chute, landing at my side.

    I nod. I do not talk. I serve.

    “You go now. Do not come to the Drop. You’ll know when you are needed.”

    While I walk away Tlipa kicks me in the ass. His foot is the size of my butt. I stumble a few feet right hand rubbing my butt. Tears pour down my face. I’ve been dominated mentally, Alleway is bleeding from a hind leg and I’m beaten. Fuckin’ Aron stole a few gems and gold. He didn’t even share the gold with Willan.

    Never try to steal from the local gang. I head down river. Estrella’s house is there. She’ll have a salve for All, poor All. He’s limping. One of Sheljar’s guard glares at me. I’ve got blood, but the guard watched me come up from the Drop. I reek. He’s not going to talk to me.

    What would I say?

    Estrella is surrounded by pigeons. It’s so beautiful. Feathers, and wings, and life just surround her. She waves. I smile. Alleway tries to run after one of the birds, but looks back to me, yipping happily.

    ‘Strella makes everyone happy. There is no crowd in the evening. Most are eating, or on the Bridge, or down at River. I run to her, covered in tears. I am bruised, battered. I cannot stop crying.

    She holds me. As always, she is warm and welcoming. I need welcoming. I need warmth. The space in front of her hearth is warmer. That fire is always strong. I settle into blankets leaning away from the boot print. Alleway curls in front of me. He’s so weak. That leg is giving out, and it stinks.

    a day later

    His leg is gone. His belly is disappearing. Alleway is about to die. Willan’s gang, who I cannot talk about, is killing Alleway. He’s fading away.

    My little terrier isn’t breathing. I just wanted a bit of jade to give ‘Strella and Willan’s gang killed Alleway with a rat, A RAT. They took him via disease, but now they’ve angered me.

    Those books were ‘…omicon’ and ‘llusions.’ Jade and a couple books in a chest, and big key in Willans pocket.

    Those bastards killed Alleway for a few gems and a couple of books. They took him from me!

    A sharp bark wakes me from my strife. I look down at my puppy. His body is rot. The bark continues, it’s his happy bark. We’re both wrapped in the blankets, trying to heal from that day. That and hide, we’re trying to hide from life.

    Alleway isn’t alive. But he’s barking he keeps barking. He sounds so happy, but this body is empty. The barking is from my right. There he is off to my right. How? How is my little one there with me.

    He is shadow. He is incorporeal. He is loyal. Beyond death, he is loyal.

    Now, I rise. Willan has a key and two precious books. I have a dog that cannot die and my powers. I need not talk again. Alleway walks through the wall towards the bridge. It is fifteenth night in winter. The Dragon is full, but the other moons are new.

    Alleway is powerfully striding towards the downriver stairs. That’s where Rista preys on the poorest of Fort Ooshar’s visitors. It takes me a bit longer to get to the top. Alleway doesn’t slow down for bushes and trees.

    My little terrier breathes my hate for Willan’s gang and is fueled by my love. We see Rista. He charges at her leaping into her mouth. His ghostly form enters her. She runs to the side of the cliffs and jumps off. Little Alleway jumps back to me.

    We continue. Tlipa is next and then Willan. I’ll take his jade, his books and his gang. I will speak again. Willan will suffer, because I can no longer touch my little dog. I can hear him, kind of see him, but no longer will he sit on my lap or snuggle with me. Alleway remains, but he is only a representation of love now.

  • Song for Mehmd

    Song for Mehmd

    As Saffron gets to know Behn and Samul she wrote a song celebrating their homeland.

    Night pours over the rolling dunes.
    First, pink and purple, swallowing the sun-soaked sky.
    Then red to match the blood-soaked hands.
    And a whisper in the wind decries:
    nothing remains now
    except stars and scars.

    Dawn breaks the black horizon.
    We are thirst, and thirst is all we know.
    We are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky.
    We are.

    Here, in the desert,
    We cannot be claimed nor owned.
    Carried by winds,
    A mirage of heart and bone
    And memories built by hand.

    I turn toward emptiness.
    I see nothing, hear nothing.
    Yet through the silence something throbs.

    Here, in the desert,
    Ahid wraps tight around our ribs
    Preparing us for battle.
    We stand at the gates,
    Men and women,
    Myths and legends.
    Ready to fight.

    We are Mehmd.

  • Expeditionary fleet of Airxip Ixkon leaves Kon

    Expeditionary fleet of Airxip Ixkon leaves Kon

    Laurelyn looked over her works. Her funds sending a flight out over the Spires of Xelgar were larger than any other. It is her town that gets to host the final rising of the airxips; her vassals that operate the Ship of the Fleet and its three carrax; her pamphleteers that will write the story of these days. Other families had more money, fame, power, but the Ixkon discovered the anti-sink balloons and taut-line messaging that is needed for such a large expedition.

    There are two other models like her Airxip Ixkon (of course she gave it the family name), one is slightly larger and with an additional two tenders. Gerarldine played the game well, but proximity to the High Mother could not earn her more than the vital discoveries necessary to cross the Spires. The third broadxip, Arx Golmul, comes from the North. With just two carrax helping it over the Spire it is most likely to struggle with the winds. But the northern community harvests the fuel trees for the bellows and they are experimenting in granting mulkon the right to vote. If the High Mother sees Arx Golmul do well major changes could be forced. It is likely that the Mothers Parliament were outmaneuvered when they approved that flight. No matter for Laurelyn, she is focused on earning her family, all of her family, more money.

    Her artists turned out great posters for the launch. Sales are going well and the non-Ixkon living nearby continue to fall under her sway. There was a need for last minute recruits, and the posters helped.

    What a perfect day. The winds are blowing towards the Spires. Normally that’s a problem, but today it’s what they need. Two Feyelfs (weeks) floating to those harsh isles and then the steep rise after extensive fishing. After the rise the ships will cross towards a land unseen for centuries, if the math is right the expedition will float for just a Glibbon (month) before landfall.

    Captain Yerxian walks beside Laurelyn

    “Ma’am, you’ll have to leave or this xip will not float. It is our time, the winds are right and the crew ready.”

    “Certainly Captain. You have the cares and wishes of all of Kon behind you. Bring us something wonderful. This is your fleet now.”

    There are no large speeches. The High Mother’s words were in every gobkon, hobkon and mulkon’s wallets, pockets or hands. That pamphlet is half orders and half inspiration to be as great as Kon can be. Each ship has a press so that new pamphlets can be made, and with the taut-line messaging system those can be more easily coordinated when at altitude.