StV: Another Attempt

Sophia Antonius stepped out onto the sidewalk, holding her bag and glancing back to make sure her boyfriend...

...was missing. Cedric was missing. She reached out for magic, found it, called it into herself. Then she extended her senses, reaching out... 

Cedric was just behind her, unconscious and invisible on the floor just inside the doorway. Two men she couldn't see were moving towards her, one coming out the door while another approached from the street. 

Her brother would have just murdered them, but Sophia was trying for a less lethal outcome. That didn't rule out making it painful, though.

"Cedric?" she called out, doing her best to sound confused about where her boyfriend might have gone. Under her breath, she was muttering rapid phrases and shaping energies... 

You'd better not have hurt him, she thought, as she wrapped them both in what would normally be shields and began to squeeze.  

Both men had apparently just come to a halt in the street, and were having difficulty breathing. Sophia held her grip where it was, waiting, and after a moment they were both visible to regular sight. So was Cedric, collapsed across the doorway... bleeding. 

Sophia clamped down with her shields, and heard the wet-wood snap of breaking bones. She hurried over to Cedric, and activated the general-healing spell that she'd stored in her necklace. Healing spells weren't her most-practiced area, but keeping one prepared in advance gave her time to think through the movements, phrases, and techniques she'd need... and kept her calm enough to use them.  

I may have overdone it

Looked at my To Do list on Monday and pushed through a whole bunch of it, and between that and everything else I am exhausted. And every time I think I'm starting to pull back out, it turns out that no, no I have not. 

 In the last six-or-so weeks: 

•  Secondborn started school and promptly got sick. 
• We got Firstborn into his dorm room, met his new roommate, and made it back home. This part, I'll note, while hectic, actually went pretty well. 
• I spent the next day working from home (as expected) and then was sick as a dog for the next week and a half (not as expected, and probably with whatever Secondborn had picked up at school).
• Just as I was starting to recover from that, I went into the kitchen and realized that the light fixture above the kitchen sink was dripping. This is not the sort of behavior I like to see from an electrical appliance.  
• The roofing guy came out and looked at it, and sealed some likely entry points on the roof. 
• Four days later a 2' x 2' square of the ceiling above the sink filled with water and collapsed, scattering insulation everywhere.
• My dad went into the hospital on a Wednesday for an inability to eat, developed an inability to breathe, and passed away that Sunday.
• After a certain amount of back-and-forth with the insurance company, we got the roof replaced. I do not, in all honesty, remember when exactly this happened; this particular bullet point may not be chronological.
• Beautiful Wife started a new job, at a good company with a good team and an absolutely batshit CEO. 
• The cat escaped on the following Friday night. We found him in the yard late Saturday night, but he escaped again. On Sunday, I put out the medium live-animal trap with some cat food and tuna. We captured a possum, and while we were trying to figure out what to do with that the cat meowed from just outside the fence. We managed to recapture the cat and release the bonus possum -- do not get those two reversed -- and then went the hell to bed.

It's just one damned thing after another, I swear.  

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part twenty-one

It was a trio of gnolls that came towards the break. Two of them stopped thirty strides out; the the third, armed and armored, continued forward. 

When Jacques stepped out of the trees, it stopped, grunted whined... and then dropped back, motioning the robed gnoll forward. 

Jacques continued forward, putting himself will within bowshot -- and both of the apparent guards were armed with crossbows -- and stopping just two strides back of the robed gnoll. "You're the leader, here?" he asked. 

The gnoll ducked its jackal-shaped head. "I am," it growled, then raised its head to study him. "I am Graznir Toothtaker, researcher and scholar and accidental wizard."

Jacques grinned, but kept his teeth covered. "Jacques Fontaine, firstborn son of the King, and Baronet of Caristhium. I won't say it's a pleasure, since we came here following reports that you were raiding the local households, but I'm given to understand that while your recruiting is... unconventional... most of the captured locals will consider themselves satisfied if you pay whatever you've promised."

Graznir regarded him. "Are you a scholar, Jacques Fontaine?"

"A dabbler," Jacques demurred. "I was trained for the Court -- a bit of this, a bit of that. I have been reminded that the gnolls are descendants of the Formorians, who once controlled a puissant magical empire in what is now the desert not far from here."

"Just so," said Graznir. "Legend -- our legend -- has it that there was a vault, sealed away, that contained the core of our magical knowledge after our empire turned on itself. I have spent my life tracking down clues and references, and I believe that it is here."

"This temple?" asked Jacques. "Or beneath it?"

"Beneath it," the gnoll said, his voice soft with reverence. "If it proves true, we could reclaim the desert, reclaim our ancient cities, and perhaps restore the entire area to the life it once contained."

Jacques considered that. "That land technically belongs to Sol Povos, and thus to my father. Would you be willing to negotiate with him? A gnoll -- or Formorian -- barony within Sol Povos is not out of the question, but given the current state of the kingdom I wouldn't like to see it mistaken for some sort of rebellion. We have other, more meaningful, fights to undertake."

 "The elves have their own kingdom, in alliance with Sol Povos. Would your father consider something similar for a small kingdom of Formorians?"

Jacques chuckled. "Knowing my father, he would definitely consider it. Whether he could make it stick with the other nobles... I don't know. But if you keep a low profile and don't let on that there's anything here worth finding, I suspect he could play it off as a concession to someone who would keep order."

The gnoll's face twisted in a way that Jacques thought reflected a frown. "You are the Baronet of Caristhium? You are far from your home."

"Father's orders," Jacques said, and offered a small shrug. "And my friends came to deal with the raids... but if you aren't truly raiders, then another approach seems called for. So... do right by the ones you have working for you, let us help you, and let's see what we can manage together." 

"I think we have little choice," Graznir replied after a moment. "I had hoped to manage this without being noticed, but since you have come... Yes. Very well. Bring your people, and I will show you what we do here."

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part twenty

Jacques slipped up to the doorway. "We're here to rescue you," he whispered. 

"You're what?" It was male voice, grumpy at being awakened, but still quiet so as not to awaken anybody else. 

"We're here to get you out and let you get back to your farms."

"We won't get paid if we do that." The man had risen, solid and stocky, light-haired in the darkness. "The gnolls promised us a reward if we helped them dig out the temple and the complex beneath it."

"They did?" Jacques let his surprise color his tone, audible even though they were whispering. "And you believe them?"

The man shrugged. "They didn't take our children, or our elderly. There's one of them can speak Common, and he says they're studying the ruins, hoping to find something under them."

"But they did kidnap you," Jacques pointed out. 

The man nodded. "They did, and there're some here as might resent that... but they've promised us payment once they get access to their temple, and so far they've been straight with us. No whips, no torments. Hard work, but no harder than running a farm. And if they find the gold they've promised us, well... we'll be well-repaid for our labor."

Jacques considered that. Beside him, Skyflower was frowning. Yvette asked, "You'd trust them?"

The man straightened, and his expression sobered. "I'd be lying if I said we weren't all a little concerned for our kids... but they know how to take care of themselves, and how to keep the farms in basic order.  Ellia had a newborn; they took her husband but left her behind with the kids. They aren't monsters, s'far as we can tell. They just took us because they needed help and had no other way t'get it."

Jacques made a decision, because there was no safe way to consult with the rest of his group. "Very well. Ask the one who speaks Common to come towards the treeline in the morning, and I'll meet him -- or her -- there, so we can talk."

"Just to talk?" asked the farmer, suspiciously. 

"Just to talk," Jacques reassured him. "I want assurances that the gnolls will pay you and release you when you're done digging for them, and I want more information about what they intend here. I don't intend bloodshed unless they do."

"Aye. All right, I'll tell 'im. You go your way now, before you bollix this whole thing up."

Jacques nodded, though he doubted the human could see him, and motioned for the others to back away. They slipped back out of the camp just as quietly as they'd entered, leaving one -- hopefully -- unconscious gnoll, and a pen with its door wide open.  

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part nineteen

Skyflower led the way, silent and precise in her movements, and Jacques followed in her steps. Risk moved close behind him, surprisingly silent for all his bulk. 

Skyflower held up a hand and they paused; after a moment she lowered her hand and motioned them forward. Nobody spoke; they all just followed. Morrigan had turned into a massive bear, but moved with a surprising lack of noise for her size; she was sniffing the air, and apparently had some sort of communication worked out with Skyflower. 

Yvette was staying close to her brother's back, evidently trying to step exactly where Jacques stepped -- which he appreciated, since she was far more of a scholar and a spellcaster than a rogue. Rose and Ash trailed them at the back, half-blind in the darkness but making their way quietly along despite that. They dropped back just a bit before the prisoners' pen came into view, in something that was evidently a shared decision. 

A faint grunt reached their ears, and Jacques looked over just in time to lock eyes with the gnoll who'd just come around the corner of the pen. For a moment, he froze. 

Risk had no such hesitation. He dashed forward, struck the gnoll in the solar plexus and then the side of the neck, and grabbed it as it sank towards the ground, gentling its fall and cutting off its air at the same time. He returned to the group with silent steps, then used his hands to mimic breathing; Jacques took that to mean that the gnoll would live.

Skyflower nodded and blew him a kiss; Risk grinned. 

There was door near the corner of the pen, heavy wood crudely fastened together and held closed with a pair of bars on the outside. Risk glanced at Jacques, who nodded and made a go ahead gesture. The half-dragon slipped forward, slid first one bar and then the other quietly free of their clasps, and then caught the wooden door as it fell towards him. That left him balancing a wooden beam and a door, but Morrigan came forward and braced the door so he could set the bar quietly aside. 

"Who's there?" whispered a voice from inside the pen.  

 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part eighteen

Intrigued, Jacques watched as his siblings and the children of Ruin sorted out who would venture into camp and who would wait at the edge of the trees. Jacques himself would venture into the camp; he was stealthy, and he could see in the dark, and he might possibly even be able to provide a distraction if they needed it. Somewhat to his surprise, his sister Yvette joined him; she could see in the dark, but wasn't as practiced at stealth. Their brother Julien, on the other hand, shook his head and drew back; he would wait to cover them. 

Of the True Elves, the cleric Tybalt went to stand beside Julien, reaching up to put a companionable hand on his shoulder. The paladin Ash, however, came forward to join Jacques and Yvette. Somewhere in there, she'd switched out her scale mail for a simple buff coat -- a heavy leather arrangement that offered decent protection but wouldn't slow her down or make her clumsy. The paladins of Amun and Helios generally wore the heaviest -- and most magical -- armor they could get their hands on, and had all the grace and stealth of an iron golem. A paladin of Ruin, on the other hand... apparently they were more subtle, or could be if they wanted to. 

Azrael went and joined his brother. He was armed and armored and looked ready to fight, but Jaques thought that his decision to remain behind was correct: he didn't look at all sneaky. Skyflower slipped up beside Jacques, grinned, and strung her longbow. The two who looked like regular elves -- the druid Rose and the werebear Morrigan -- also joined their group. That brought the three animals -- the wolverine Brick, and the wolves Geri and Freki -- over to join them.

Too many, Jacques thought. "Can you send the animals over to wait with the others?" he asked quietly. "I'd like to keep them in reserve."

Skyflower glanced back at him, smiled, and touched the haunch of one of the wolves. All three animals quickly retreated, settling in around Julien and the others. 

Seven to enter the camp, Jacques thought. Eight to watch our backs. He wasn't sure that his tutors in the study of military theory would have approved of this, but then they tended to focus on movements in squads and divisions and wings -- and even they admitted that the presence of Solari always threw things off. Not that anybody here even remotely qualified as Solari... but if they all had anything in common, it was a tendency to throw things off. 

"We're going to try this," he said, glancing at Skyflower and offering a smile in return. "If anybody finds that they're hearing themselves move, just slide back and join the others. It looks like they used the trees they cut down to make the pens -- so we're looking for less solid entry points to open up. The gods alone know what they might have used for doors, so keep an eye out -- and keep an eye out for guards. Moonset is almost here, so they'll be relying on darkvision just as we will. We might have the edge in hearing and smell, so use that. If we can get everyone out before we're noticed, great. If not, then we're covering their retreat. It's well past midnight, so hopefully most of the gnolls are asleep and we can pick them off a few at a time -- or bluff our way out."

Behind him, "Sun, Scar, Julien..." Tybalt's voice was firm. "It's a clear night, so the rest of us can see a little, but we're working by starlight. You're the ones who can actually see in the dark, so stay alert. Don't neglect listening, and keep an eye on how the animals respond. We may need to follow their lead. Or, we may be able to wait back here and escort people away. We won't know until it happens."

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part seventeen

"Hold up," said Skyflower. "I'm not opposed to talking to them, but I'd like to do it with the prisoners safely out of the way first."

Beside her, Morrigan nodded. "If we could break them out, then deal with the gnolls..."

Jacques considered that. The True Elf Paladin and his sister Yvette were both nodding, and he could see their point. "So... try to set the prisoners free without the gnolls noticing?"

Skyflower nodded. "I say we hold up here, wait until dark, and then see if we can get them out without the gnolls noticing."

"I seem to recall being reminded that the gnolls can see in the dark," Julien observed quietly. 

Skyflower nodded at that. "They can, but only so far out. If we can get to the prisoners without being seen, then we might be able to pull it off."

"And if we can't?" Jacques asked. 

Skyflower shrugged. "Then we back out and try diplomacy."

"I think..." Ash, the paladin, looked thoughtful. "I think I prefer this approach."

"Does anybody oppose it?" asked Jacques. 

Risk shrugged. "If we aren't fighting anyway, we might as well try this first."

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part sixteen

"Okay, so the gnolls aren't raiding farms to eat the people living there, or to sacrifice them some dark god. They're basically kidnapping farmers and using them as slave labor." Tybalt looked frustrated. "That means that if we start moving against them, they could easily turn their captive labor force into hostages."

Jacques nodded agreement. "A direct attack could go very badly, and if we set to picking them off by stealth... we'd have move carefully and make no mistakes."

"Not all of us are that stealthy," Julien remarked, and Tybalt nodded. They could shed some armor and be quieter, but none of them were dedicated rogues and Jacques suspected that he was one of the stealthier ones there. Skyflower would be good at it, and Risk and Rose could manage... 

"Well," said Tybalt. "We might actually have to fall back on diplomacy. M'lord?"

Jacques nodded. He was unquestionably the best suited for that -- the golden half-dragon sorcerer Scar was compelling in his way, but lacked training in diplomacy and information-gathering. 

"I'd very much like to know what they're doing," Ash (the true elf paladin) said. She sounded frustrated, and Jacques couldn't blame her. 

"The gnolls..." said the golden half-dragon cleric Sun, "...are the descendants of the Formorians, who held a sizeable and magically-powerful empire in what is now the forgotten desert, between Wellfort and Fort Dedo. The champions of Fort Dedo were said to have discovered powerful magical artifacts in the ruins there, artifacts which the Dark Army later claimed and used."

Jacques had a vague memory of that as well. "Yes... crossbows that fired magic missiles, and... ballistae that loosed bolts of lightning? Something like that, anyway. Maybe some Flame Blade swords as well."

"So do we think they're looking for weapons?" asked Ash. "If so, they may want to murder their prisoners to keep anyone else from learning about them." 

"They might just be after magical secrets," suggested Azrael. "Who knows what's buried down there?"

"The gnolls do, apparently," observed Skyflower darkly.

"Very well," said Jacques. "Do we have any way of learning more without approaching them, one way or another?"

Sun shook her head, looking frustrated. "I'm too new to this."

Scar looked around the group, grinned, and said, "Well, I propose that we just go ask them. We've a large enough group. If we walk out to the edge of bow range, and wait for somebody to come talk to us, they'll likely send someone. If they swarm us, they're away from the prisoners -- and they'd need most or all of their group for that, according to Rose and Skyflower and Morrigan's count of their numbers. We could take them out without risking the prisoners. If they ignore us, they have to worry that we could just walk away and come back with a bigger force. They'll know we know where they are."

"It's a gamble," said Yvette, but she was thinking hard. "They might already have some of those weapons."

Scar nodded. "It is, but I don't think it's a foolish one. And I think we're safest -- and most threatening -- if we move together." He glanced at Jacques. "No offense, new friend, but you had a look in your eye as if you were thinking of going to talk to them alone. I think you should do that, just... with the rest of us standing ready at your back."

Jacques chuckled. "When you put it that way..." and Tybalt nodded.  

Faculty: Dr. Brawn

Name: Jefferson William Brown
Codename: Dr. Brawn
Age: 56
Appearance: 6'8" with broad shoulders and a solid musculature. blond hair and blue eyes; generally wears a suit and tie with Converse All-Stars.
Job: Art, Art History, Popular Culture, Sociology, Political Science, Economics.

Dr. Brawn looks like he should be a super-himbo, and his power-set seems to match that: he's nearly invulnerable, and incredibly strong. Owing to the influence of the other faculty, he does carry a greatsword made of some ridiculously hard-to-damage alloy -- and he knows how to use it. His true love, however, is learning -- and he's used that to get PhDs in Economics and Political Science while still pursuing his other interests. 

His lectures can be a little dry, and he knows this -- so he generally assigns readings and then grades on the basis of understanding as expressed in class discussions for topics like sociology, poli-sci, and economics. He's a good and experienced moderator, so this approach is generally well-accepted.  For Art and Culture, he generally just lets his passion carry him through, and students also respond well to someone geeking out about ancient roman statuary and modern video-game aesthetics side-by-side. 

Dr. Brawn is married to a stay-at-home mom name Naomi Littleton Brown, who is currently occupied with home-schooling their three kids (all under age ten). He has spoken to the headmaster about opening an elementary and middle school for potential Anomalies, but so far both Saint-Vincent and Salvatore have balked at the potential difficulties and liability. 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part fifteen

Skyflower and Morrigan moved as a team, one on either side of the trail, the companion animals spreading out around them. From the tracks and scents, the gnolls didn't appear to have done much scouting here in the woodlands; they headed out along the trail, and brought people back along the trail. 

The call was a bit of birdsong, possibly out of place here in the Ladraio Woods but unlikely to be noticed. Morrigan slowed, turned her attention ahead, and then slowed further as she advanced. The whistle she gave back was soft, still passably avian, and expressed her shock. 

The gnolls didn't have guards in the woods, because the gnolls had cut down the trees to create a massive clearing and build cages and guard-towers. She could see them keeping watch, though there were fewer on guard than she might have expected. Their prisoners were digging out something that had sunk into the earth, some sort of ancient stone structure... and some of the gnolls were helping as well. 

What is happening here? Morrigan just stared, watching. There were maybe twenty humans and ten half-elves, all in decent shape and apparently reasonably well-kept, working with shovels and picks and ropes. Oxen hauled loads of dirt away, and the gnolls were... well, they didn't seem to be abusing any of the prisoners. 

"This... isn't what I expected," whispered Skyflower, and Morrigan nodded. 

"Nor I," she replied, still studying the scene in front of them. There were pens for the stolen animals as well, and even something that looked like a half-planted garden.

"Nobody seems immediately in danger," Skyflower said, after another minute. "We should check back in with the others." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part fourteen

Rose drifted across the sky, flapping occasionally to keep her position but mostly letting the late-afternoon updrafts hold her in the air. The feel of air playing across her wings was like nothing else she'd ever experienced. Morrigan and Skyflower were down in the trees somewhere, making their own way with bestial companions to protect them if they needed it. Either of them could handle herself, but if some of the gnolls surprised them it would be better if the deaths looked like animal attacks.

Her mother was a priestess of Amun and her father was god -- no matter how minor -- but Rose had only truly come to understand herself as a druid. She'd never shared her parents' fixation on weapons and battle. She'd humored them, learned enough to hold her own, but she'd never be a deadly blade. On the other hand, she could take the form of an eagle and fly, or go unseen as an ordinary dog, or tap into the power of the land to cast her spells. 

She hadn't known her father as well as she knew her mother, but both of them had supported her decision. Her father, in particular, had frequently said that he only wanted her to find a place of her own, where she was happy and fulfilled. And her father had had a certain attachment to the druids, and not just Alnira among them -- though their connection had certainly made it easier for Rose to find her way to them. 

Her mother had been disappointed, perhaps, that Rose hadn't followed her into the priesthood of Amun or at least Corellon, but Rose had simply never felt that calling, that attachment. When her sister Sun, the golden half-dragon, had stepped into that role instead, Rose had been nothing but relieved. Even so, her mother had never said a word against the druids, or her choices, or...

The thought trailed off into the silence of pure shock as she drifted close enough to see the gnoll camp. They're weren't taking captives for sacrifice; she could see the wooden pens, currently empty as humans and half-elves and a pair of dwarves and even some of the gnolls worked with picks and shovels and ropes. 

They were excavating.

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part thirteen

"We're getting closer, I think," said Skyflower, studying the path ahead. 

Morrigan bent down and sniffed at the ground. "Yes. The scent is stronger. Best to move quietly from here." 

Rose nodded to them and dropped back, light-footed as she waved the others closer. She had the features of a classical elf, a blend of her mother's half-elven ancestry and her father's True Elf bloodline. "Okay," she said gently. "Time to slow down and go carefully. Morrigan and Skyflower both think we're getting pretty close, and gnolls... well, they can be pretty hard to sneak up on."

"Should we wait until after dark?" asked Risk. 

"Not all of us can see in the dark," Rose reminded him. "And the gnolls all can." 

"Oh," he said. "Right."

The battle-cleric Tybalt glanced around the group. "I say we wait here and let Morrigan and Skyflower scout ahead -- or Rose can scout from the air."

Jacques, the nobleman, nodded and set a hand on his rapier. "Seconded."

Rose nodded. "Let's do both. Stay here, stay quiet, and I'll let them know."

"You said she was the oldest?" Jacques asked quietly, as Rose walked away. 

Tybalt nodded. "And the most experienced. Watch this."

Rose spoke briefly with the other two women, then shimmered and transformed into an eagle. Wide wings shoved her into the air, and she circled as she rose, slipping through the trees and into the sky. 

"I should..." Risk made to start after Skyflower and Morrigan, but his half-dragon sister put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay here," she said, looking past him at the two woman who were slipping into the woods alongside the trail they'd been following. 

Jacques followed her gaze, just in time to see a pair of wolves and... was that a wolverine? He legitimately didn't know. The three animals followed the women, and Risk said, "Oh. Right."

"...What were those?" asked Yvette. 

The paladin Ash chuckled. "Rose is the most experienced of us. Brick is her companion and protector, a wolverine. He's not wearing his barding because Rose wants him to be mistaken for an ordinary animal. Morrigan and Skyflower are both training as rangers, and part of that includes companion animals for them as well; those are the two wolves, Geri and Freki." 

"So we aren't just twelve," Julien observed. "We're fifteen." He looked over at Risk. "Oh, this is going to be fun, New Cousin."

Risk smiled back at him. "Oh, yes it is." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part twelve

"Excuse me," said Morrigan, "I need to go catch up with my sisters."

"Of course," answered Julien, with a courteous nod. He fell back as she strode forward, covering ground quickly and gracefully despite her comparatively short legs.  

At his slower pace, it took only a minute or so for his brother Jacques and the True Elf cleric Tybalt to catch up to him. "Well," he said, "that was interesting." 

"How so?" asked Jacques, with that half-concealed smirk that indicated that he knew more than his brother did. Jacques was perfectly capable of deceit or false politeness with people he didn't like, but with his siblings he always gave way to that expression. 

Julien pretended that he hadn't noticed. "Well, Morrigan isn't wearing armor, and that guisarme she's carrying is too big for her, so I suggested that if we went into combat she should stay behind me and make her attacks from there."

"Ah," said Jacques. Beside him, Tybalt had turned his head away to study the brush along the side of the trail. "And how did she take that?"

"She seemed to think it was funny," Julien admitted. "She said that fighting in formation was never a bad idea, but I swear she was trying very hard not to laugh." He looked past his brother to Tybalt. "Is she a powerful fighter? Because she looks, well..."

Tybalt glanced at Jacques. "I am so, so tempted to tell you to wait and see, just so I can see the expression on her face. So... permit me to test you a bit?"

Julien might have bristled at anybody else trying to test him, but Tybalt seemed... More like he's jesting with me. And with Jacques. It seemed good-natured. So Julien said, "Very well."

"I want you to work out a puzzle," Tybalt told him. 

"And Morrigan is the puzzle?" Julien asked. When Tybalt nodded, he said, "As you wish. She does not wear armor. She carries a warrior's weapon, so presumably she's trained with it. That fairly well rules out her belonging to one of those orders that fight without weapons or armor; I don't know of any of them who teach polearms. On the other hand, her clothing is loose and flowing, with plenty of extra cloth..." He blinked. "She turns into something, doesn't she? Something larger than she is right now." 

"There you go," Jacques congratulated him. "Tybalt says she's a werebear."

"Truly?" Julien didn't try to conceal his shock. 

"Truly," said Tybalt. "Born to it, and werebears are not vicious in the way that some other lycanthropes become. But she learned fighting from both her mother and our father, and she's easily as formidable as Risk."

"Ha!" Julien laughed. "So it would work, especially since she could swing that thing right over my head." He chuckled, then added, "But I can see why she thought it was funny that I was trying to protect her." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part eleven

"So you're a wizard?" asked Azrael, matching his stride to walk alongside Yvette Fontaine. 

"Like my mother was," she said, nodding. 

"So... I apologize in advance if this is rude to even ask, but... could we compare spellbooks?"

Yvette looked puzzled, but not angry. "Aren't you a bladecrafter?"

"Yes." Azrael hesitated, then said: "That's why I have a spellbook. You can't make magic items without knowing magic, and the more magic I know the better the items I can create."

"Truly?" Yvette was studying him now, head cocked to the side in curiosity. "So you can cast spells?"

"Some," Azrael admitted. "It's kind of an effort to shift my focus from building them into items to casting them in the..." He fluttered a hand in her direction. "...more traditional fashion. Mom says I'll be able to learn anything a wizard can, but I'll probably only be able to cast the simpler half of that directly."

"That's... still pretty impressive." Yvette paused, apparently thinking that through. "Well, I mean, we're allies, right? So anything we can do to strengthen each other is all to the good."

Azrael gestured uncertainly. "That's what I would think, but I was also taught that most wizards guard their spells jealously."

Yvette laughed, and Azrael stepped away and gave her a look. 

"Most wizards," she told him, "produce scrolls for sale, which any other wizard -- or bladecrafter, I assume -- could add to their spellbook. Most wizards take apprentices, and the ones that are good masters teach their students as much as they can. As a general rule, most wizards only jealously guard spells that are dangerous for inexperienced practitioners to use, or that they've designed themselves and want to be able to surprise people with. Even then, they're likely to pass those on to friends or favored apprentices, as part of their magical legacy."

"Oh," said Azrael, then rallied. "So are you willing to agree with this? I can tell you what I have first, if that would help."

Yvette smiled at him. "Yes, absolutely. Even if it all comes down to me helping you out, I'm willing -- but I bet you've got something I'll want to add to my repertoire." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part ten

It took a bit of wrangling to get everybody moving, but only a little. Jacques could already see some new connections forming, a fact which pleased him; it didn't look like they'd have any trouble working together against the gnolls. His brother Julien, who'd inherited their father's looks and strength, was walking beside the woman called Morrigan, who appeared to be an ordinary elf -- albeit armed with an oversized guisarme and a pair of shortswords. Knowing Julien, they were likely talking about arms and armor and fighting techniques, which was doubly interesting since the elf-woman didn't look strong enough to make full use of the polearm. 

Tybalt, meanwhile, had fallen in beside Jacques, so Jacques took the opportunity: "Pardon me if the question is... indelicate... but how is that the crowd of you are all so very different?"

Tybalt chuckled. "You'd have to have known our father to understand," he said. "As a mortal, Ruin was... a complicated man. I suppose the simplest way to explain it was that in the years leading up to the confrontation with Galvera, he was in constant danger and so took comfort where he could. I think he also wanted to establish a legacy, to leave some part of himself behind if he died." 

He paused, then gestured to where the others walked ahead of them. "Rose, the druid, is the oldest of us. Her mother was the priestess Aesa, a battle-priest who worshipped Amun. At the same time, he sired Rune, whose mother Anica was a human paladin of Amun. Ruin sometimes said that Amun himself was at least half-responsible for their conception."

"Is Rune...?"

Tybalt shook his head. "He and his mother did not survive the battle with Galvera, who took their souls. I'm pretty sure that was well more than half the reason that our father found a way to ascend. My father could be very gentle, but he held a grudge like you would not believe. Anyway, shortly after the, um, encounters that produced them, he was approached by a gold dragon named Rita, whom he had helped to save from the control of the dark army. In the way of dragons, she produced a clutch: Sun, Scar, and Risk -- the three golden half-dragons. In human terms, they're triplets."

Jacques nodded at that, unfazed. His own father was a half-dragon, after all; he knew these things could happen. Though he supposed he was impressed with the courage of anyone who would lay with a dragon after knowing what she was. "And... let me see if I have this straight... Sun became a cleric of Amun, Scar became a sorcerer, and Risk... what?"

"Fights with his teeth and claws."

Well, that was interesting. Especially since his own sister Yvette was walking between the cleric Sun and the sorcerer Scar, chatting cheerily with them about politics and society in Caristhium. "Rather effectively, I'd imagine."

"Oh, yes," answered Tybalt. "He's very easygoing ordinarily, but in battle he's... ferocious. Scar is the dramatic one, and Sun is what you might call phlegmatic,  but Risk... Risk is basically just a really nice guy until things go too far and he stops being nice, and at that point it's kind of scorched earth all the way."

Jacques, who'd put up with a great deal of abuse during his time at Court and was used to putting on a polite face until he could act on his hidden rage, thought he could kind of understand that. "All right."

"Right," said Tybalt. "So the next two are Morrigan and Skyflower, both conceived a few months before the battle, when Ruin and the others were trying to restore the druids. Morrigan looks like an ordinary elf because her mother was an elvish werebear named Nym, who learned to bear arms -- pardon the pun -- and became one of the champions of the druids. Morrigan learned fighting skills from both sides. She wears all that oversized clothing because when she transforms, she doesn't tear through it. Our mother is still figuring out how best to make her some armor that can change with her."

"She's a lycanthrope?" Jacques felt his eyebrows try to climb into his hairline. 

Tybalt just shrugged. "Yes, but she's a born lycanthrope, and she's a werebear. Apparently that makes a difference. So far as I know, she has a handle on it: she seems to be able to change and change back at will, and I've never seen or heard of her losing control."

"That's... Okay, you've genuinely surprised me." She and Julien should get along just fine, then. "I would have guessed that she'd be one of our weaker fighters."

Tybalt grinned. "She'd have been happy to let you think so." He cleared his throat. "Skyflower is the daughter of Ruin and one of the senior druids, a true elf named Alnira. She... She's been studying under one of our grandmother's old friends, following in her father's footsteps. Right now, she's basically just a ranger, but eventually she'll start tapping into other worlds for more unusual skills and abilities. At least, that's what my mother says. Skyflower and Morrigan were basically raised as sisters; their mothers married each other." 

"Which brings us to you and your siblings," Jacques observed, though his head was spinning with this new information. 

Tybalt chuckled. "We're the easy ones, Baronet Fontaine. After Galvera was defeated and Tavros took the throne and drove out the demons, Ruin... well, it was never simple for him, but as he and my mother told it they kept visiting each other and eventually admitted that it wasn't a simple friendship or alliance. They married, and had Ash, who has now become a Paladin of Ruin. I was born next, and the whole idea of setting up a temple for the worship of our father was mine. Our younger brother is Azrael, over there, who takes after our mother Amaranth -- an Elvish Bladecrafter."

"So he's a weaponsmith?" asked Jacques, slightly worried. 

Tybalt made a yes-and-no gesture with his hand. "To be a Bladecrafter, you have to know how to use the weapons you're crafting. You also have to know how to put magic into them. So they... learn spells, maybe even really powerful spells, but their main focus is using those to craft magic weapons and armor, and maybe other items. They can fight, maybe not as well as a dedicated fighter but still effectively. They can even cast spells, kind of like a wizard can, but not as powerfully. But yes, his real power is in what he can create with that combination of smithing, magic, and martial skill."

"I confess I'd never even heard of such a thing," Jacques admitted. "It sounds fascinating."

"Azrael would tell you that it is, and honestly I don't doubt him -- even if I went a different way." Tybalt hesitated, then asked: "What of the three of you?"

Jacques smiled. "I'm the oldest, which is why I get the impressive titles and most of the headaches. I was trained for a life at Court: weapons, music, oratory, magic... a good mix, and it suited me. Yvette was born next, and as you can see she's a little more obviously a child of our father -- just don't mention it, she's also needlessly sensitive about how people see her. She took after our mother in the study of wizardry, and she seems to have a knack for it. Julien is simpler; he's the baby of the family, and also the one who most resembles our father. His training focused on arms and armor, and he loves it."

"He and Morrigan should get along well, then," Tybalt observed. 

"Yes. Given our fathers' alliance and mutual respect, I'm not surprised -- but it's good to see." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part nine

"Come out, children," Sarai called, and a moment there was more movement inside the house. 

The three children who emerged onto the porch, blinking in the sunlight, were half-elves. The older dwarven man was Markus, the woman was Sarai, the children were Tasha, Lithwel, and Sannasor. Jacques glanced curiously at Sarai, but got only a subtle shake of her head in reply. He responded with a faint shrug.

"These three are from the next farm over," Markus explained, after he'd made introductions. 

Of the True Elves, Tybalt and Ash -- the cleric and the paladin -- had come over to join the conversation, and Sun -- the golden-scaled cleric of Amun -- seemed to be herding the others to give them some distance. His own sister, Yvette, seemed to be helping. From what he could overhear, they seemed to be discussing how best to deal with the gnolls once they found them.

"First off," said Tybalt, "is anybody in need of healing?"

Tasha looked to be the oldest of the children; she was wearing a faded dress that was obviously a favorite. "No, they didn't... they didn't hurt anybody. They just took our parents and grandparents and the animals, and carried them away. They had a wagon with a cage on top of it."

"And they left you behind?" asked Ash, gently. 

Tasha nodded. "Lithwel tried to follow, but he didn't have any food or anything and..."

"What was I going to do anyway?" the boy asked bitterly. "Break the cage?"

"That was still very brave," said Ash. Like most of Ruin's children, she was sturdily built by elvish standards, with medium-brown hair and olive skin. 

"It was," Jacques confirmed immediately. "Can you show us where they went? As far as you were able to follow, I mean?"

Lithwel nodded, but said: "It isn't very far, though."

Tybalt smiled. "You see that girl over there? The one standing a little back from the others? That's Skyflower. If you can show us their trail, she can track them."

"Oh," said the boy. 

"How 'bout this?" Markus put in. "I come with ye, an' once Lithwel 'as shown ye the way I can walk 'im back here. Would ye feel safer that way, brave lad?"

Lithwel nodded, and Jacques, Tybalt, and Ash all nodded acceptance as well. "Then I believe," Jacques said quietly, "we have a plan."

Tybalt nodded. "I'll go bring the others up to speed."

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part eight

The farmhouse was shuttered tight: doors closed, windows sealed, no trace of smoke rising from the chimney. Skyflower paused, studying the dirt of the road, then glanced back at the others. 

She was pretty, as Jacques had noted to himself several times already: dark brown hair that showed auburn highlights in the sun, milk-pale skin with a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, pale gray eyes. Like most of the True Elves, she carried a two-handed scimitar; she also had a longbow strapped to the side of her pack. "There are still people here," she said. "Also a dog. They're just hiding."

"May I?" asked Jacques, and several of the other nodded. Risk -- the flamboyant golden half-dragon sorcerer -- hesitated, but then nodded as well.

It took a minute or so to reach the wooden porch; then he was knocking on the door. 

When nobody answered, he knocked again. This time, a dog barked. "Hello?" he called. "My name is Jacques Fontaine. We're here to help with the gnolls."

There was a long pause, and then a gruff voice said, "Step back from the door."

Jacques obliged, then waited as someone unbarred the door and swung it open. It was a dwarf -- old enough to have some gray in his hair and beard -- aiming a heavy crossbow. Another dwarf stood behind him, this one a woman of similar age, holding a light crossbow at the ready. 

"Fontaine, ye say?" asked the man. 

"Jacques Fontaine, son of His Majesty Tavros Fontaine and currently Baronet of Westhill, which is just outside of Caristhium."

"Can ye prove it?" asked the woman. 

"Well... Yes, just a moment." He unlaced the cuff of his left sleeve, then pushed it up until the silvery scales on his outer arm were visible. "I suppose that's not technically proof, but it's the best I can do in the moment."

"Nay, that'll do for now. The King sent ye, did 'e?"

"In truth, he did -- but we would have come anyway had we known." He began rolling his sleeve back down.

The woman nodded. "And Ah see ye've brought yer troops."

Jacques wondered if he could just say yes and have the others go along with it. Probably not; it wouldn't take more than five minutes of listening to their good-natured squabbling to realize that they were something else. Cautiously, he shook his head. "We couldn't spare any, so we came ourselves." He turned to look back, still lacing his cuff back up one-handed. "The two with the silver scales are my sister and brother. The rest are children of the Champion of Corellon, Ruin, who fought alongside my father against the goddess Vecna."

The woman sniffed. "Elves."

"Easy, Marai," said the man. "These'uns are here tae help." He studied the group again. "Though that's quite a collection o' children for a single father, and an elf intae the bargain."

"Yesss,"  Jacques admitted. "All else aside, Ruin apparently had the sexual morals of a barn cat."

The woman snorted and the man guffawed, and all of a sudden they were friends.

Blogging Challenge: Superpowers!

Prompt: What is my superpower?

I feel like we've done this challenge before, and I suspect I mentioned that I've never broken a bone (and listen up, O ye Gods and Goddesses, that was not a challenge!) but that I felt like my real superpower was explaining technical computer stuff in ordinary-person English. I might have mentioned that troubleshooting technology could also qualify. 

All of which is still valid!

I was trying to think of whether there's anything else I'd add to that, but what I'm coming up with is, well... 

Writing. 

Okay, but writing as a superpower? Well might you ask. 

Yes. Writing as a superpower. Writing as an act of active imagination, writing as a way of using that imagination to keep myself sane here in the collapse of the Republic in 2025, writing as a way of thinking -- and working -- through my issues, maybe even writing as a way of helping other people. It's fucking magic, my friends, undervalued and under-appreciated though it often is. 

Writing is a superpower.  

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews.)    

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part seven

"So then," asked Jacques Fontaine, taking the lead while his sister Yvette settled back to observe and their brother Julien leaned against the wall to watch for trouble, "What can we do for you?"

"Join us for adventure, of course!" boomed the golden-scaled dragonborn who had introduced himself as Scar. 

One of the True Elves touched Scar on the elbow and drew him slightly back, then offered a small bow. They were in the Grand Hall, where Lady Emiliana Fontaine had often held court -- or dinner parties for the local notables. It was also where they'd held vigil for her after she died, and again when their own mother had passed -- but he pushed those memories aside. This was... Tybalt? Was that right? Jacques was pretty sure it was, though between the sheer number of new names the resemblances between the three new half-dragons and all the various elves was enough to test even his memory. 

"Forgive us," said Tybalt, as he straightened. "Our arrival was unexpected for us as well -- Magister Latosh only spoke of it as we were departing Duendewood. If it smooths the waters any, it was your father's idea."

"Forgive me," said Yvette, before Jacques could respond. She stepped forward. "I'm still collecting names and roles. You were Tybalt?"

"I am," he said, and offered her a bow as well. 

"And you are a cleric..."

"...Of Ruin," Tybalt confirmed. "God of the Lost." He and his full siblings had settled on that after some discussion; it was the thing that best seemed to them to gather the various roles and traits that had defined their father in his mortal life and after.

"And Ruin was our own father's friend, the True Elf who ascended living to Asgard, and with his friends freed the souls that Galvera had taken, thus becoming the Highwaymen."

"Correct," Tybalt said simply, with just the slightest glance back at the half-dragon behind him, who towered over him without diminishing his presence in the slightest. 

"Thank you," said Yvette. "I think I have that straight now." She glanced around the room, smiled. "I'm afraid I may need your names again at some point; the crowd of you is quite a lot to take in."

"We wouldn't have it any other way, m'lady," said Scar, but he'd managed to rein himself in and kept his voice gentle this time. 

"...Which brings us back to the point of this visit," another of the True Elves, stepping forward. She was, Jacques thought, Tybalt's full sister -- the paladin called Ash. "We're reliably informed that a band of gnolls has made their way down into the Ladriano Woods, and is raiding settlements around Aldpond. We decided to do something to prevent that, but... Well, Magister Latosh, would you take it from here?"

The old man nodded. "Your father much desired for you to know the children of his friend and ally, and felt that the three of you might also benefit from this experience. Possibly not in that precise order."

Jacques made a quick visual count. Twelve, with the three of us -- and that's if Magister Latosh chooses not to remain as well. He nodded slowly. "Even with no other troops, this is a formidable force," he observed.

His brother Julien stepped up beside him and said, simply, "If father calls, then we can hardly refuse. And while Aldpond lies well outside our demesne, our duty as nobles is clear."

Jacques sighed. He supposed the end of the poem -- and the rest of his letter to Lady Fiona Silvercliff -- would simply have to wait on his return.

Still, he couldn't deny a certain excitement. He'd been trained for a life at Court: oratory and music, swordsmanship and a variety of magics. The chance to test himself, to show the worth that the Dukes had viciously turned away from... No, I can hardly let a chance like this pass by.  

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part six

Their estate was walled, and while it wouldn't hold off any significant fighting force the stone was sufficient to deter any casual bandits. These, however, obviously weren't casual -- though they might not have been bandits, either. Bandits, in Jaques' admittedly limited experience, didn't usually teleport. 

More than that, though...  Jacques had taken after their mother in appearance, only showing silver scales on his shoulders and belly. Fully dressed, he looked completely human, which had eased his entry into court. Yvette shared his human bone structure, but had silver scales where full humans would have hair, including two small lines that could have been eyebrows and emphasized the silvery accents of her gray eyes. Julien had much the look of their father, fully silver-scaled and with a more draconic skull, visible claws, and heavy build. 

The group in front of the newly-closed gates were elvish, with three exceptions... and if those three weren't half-dragons, Jacques would swear off gambling forever. Their scales were golden rather than silver, so they weren't any sort of immediate kin, but beyond that...

An elderly human, robed and leaning subtly on his staff, shuffled forward. "Greetings to the Fontaine estate," he called. "Your father calls you to duty."

Jacques considered the man for a long moment.

"Sylvarin," said Yvette, suddenly. "Master Latosh?"

The old man smiled. "Yvette Fontaine. I haven't seen you since you were still setting tapestries on fire to avoid your lessons."

Jacques glanced at his sister in time to see her flush. Across from her, Julien had a look of slowly-dawning enlightenment. "Who've you brought with you?" he called down. 

"Friends, I hope," the wizard called back. 

Jacques sighed. "You'd best come inside, then," he said, and gestured for the guards to open the gates. 

DoT: Dinner and an Exchange

Cedric Bloodblade was sitting on the porch of the Overlook, apparently studying the bay below through the transparent floor, when Vallista arrived. He'd brought one of his lieutenants with him -- Dalia, she thought, a human woman in a gray robe who resembled him more than a little -- and a single visible bodyguard, also human. 

She'd brought the same accompaniment: her newest lieutenant, Derlina the half-orc, and Gazin, the lizardfolk woman who normally served as her secretary.  Derlina, she'd brought because Vallista wanted the woman to get a better feel for how these things were done; Gazin, because she was a skilled and vicious fighter. She didn't expect bloodshed here; despite everything, the Overlook was still neutral ground, and in beggars territory. 

Cedric was a remarkably handsome man, with salt-and-pepper hair and medium-dark skin. He looked up as she approached, nodded, stood, and then gestured at the trio of chairs across the table from him.  "I thought you might prefer not to eat inside," he said cautiously. 

Vallista ignored that; she was going to have to enter the Overlook sooner of later, if only to prove that she could. Still, this... she could work with this. "Cedric Bloodblade," she said. 

He nodded. "Vallista Greycloak."

He waited until she seated herself, then sat back down. He took a moment to study her, and she took the same time to study him in return.

"Are we enemies?" she asked abruptly, and he froze. 

"Ah," he said after a moment. "So this is about that crew that's been causing all the trouble."

Vallista nodded. "I'm told they were seen chatting with one of your couriers, and I have at least one Greycloak who swears they're working for you."

Cedric held up a hand, the movement compellingly graceful. "Yes and no," he said. "They hit us too -- the courier was Faldor, bringing in the monthly cut. Same one I sent to talk to them. He found them again, and they're in our territory so we've been keeping an eye on them."

Vallista waited. 

"You know the rules," he continued after a moment. "They crossed the Guild, they have to pay. Thing is, I think the Red Blades really are moving on us. So I figure they can pay by helping us solve the problem they started."

Vallista hesitated, then asked: "You're sure it's the Red Blades?"  

"Well, it wasn't them this time." He paused, then nodded. "Yes, I think it's actually the Red Blades. Or some of them, anyway."

"Huh," said Vallista. "You realize this crew might be the same ones who killed my father?"

"Word is, everybody in that room died by the same dagger blade. Is that true?"

"How the hell do you know that?" she asked. 

Cedric shrugged. "Look, I'm not trying to be indelicate here, and I'm sure your father's death is still pretty raw."

"You have no idea."

"Maybe not." He smiled. "I couldn't believed you invited me to meet you here. Talk about sending a message."

She tilted her head. "You liked that, did you?"

He nodded, still smiling, and then his expression became serious. "My word, on the Guild and my place as leader of the Mist Eyes: my people didn't kill your father, and you and I aren't enemies. Nor are the Greycloaks and Mist Eyes. We have enough to deal with on our own turf."

Despite her reservations, Vallista found herself believing him. It wasn't just his manner; the idea that the Mist Eyes were trying to move on them had never made any sense. "I want to talk to them," she said. 

Cedric considered that. "They refused my invitation to meet at our headquarters," he said, "but they asked to set up a meeting with me at the Ogre's Retreat tomorrow night. I know this isn't done, but... my business with them strictly concerns the Red Blades. You want to come along, see that for yourself, I'm open to it."

Vallista managed not to gape at him, but it was effort of will. 

He continued, "I'd need assurances that your people won't show up and try to kill or kidnap them."

"My word as a Greycloak," she said automatically. 

"Done, then," he said easily. 

"Done," she said. 

One of the waitresses had finally come out onto the porch, and they took a minute to put in their orders. The young woman retreated, looking only slightly troubled by the fact that they'd all shown up in armor. A couple of Beggars were watching them from nearby bridges, and Mother Lardner doubtless knew they were there already, but that was to be expected. 

"So," said Cedric, "What I want to know -- and what I'm hoping to learn tomorrow -- is who exactly is causing all this trouble. If this crew is unwilling tools -- and that's what they told Faldor -- who's pulling the strings?"

DoT: A Heartbeat Too Late

"Up there," said the boy Solvin, and the girl beside him nodded. 

"I see 'em--" Bassom cut the sentence off with a curse. "Fucking Mist Eyes? They's working for the fucking Mist Eyes?" He looked at Solvin. "I thought ya said they wasn't part of the Guild."

"They aren't," the girl said sullenly. "I followed them. They're just... I don't know, but not Guild."

"Well, that's Faldor, and he's one of the Mist Eyes. I can't believe..." His eyes narrowed. "'Less the Mist Eyes found 'em just before we did. I gotta get back to Vallista." He turned. 

"We're coming with you," said Solvin.

Bassom stopped. He couldn't really afford to delay, but... "Not this time, Kid. If I survive this, I promise I will make some introductions for you, but there is no way I'm bringing you into the boss's office while I deliver this news."

"Swear by the Twins?" asked the girl. 

"Fine. I swear by the Twins, if I live through this I will make introductions for you. If I don't, well, you've met some people now -- just be careful."

* * * 

"Boss?" called the lizard-folk woman Gazin, who worked as Vallista's secretary. "Bassom's here to see you."

Vallista's skin tingled with anticipation. Finally, a real lead. Even if the group that had hit the woodworker's shop wasn't the same one who'd murdered her father, this was at least a chance for the gang to rebuild some of its honor. And if they were...

She let the cold rage flood through her, then tucked it away as Bassom entered her office.  His expression wasn't the triumphant victory she'd hoped for; he looked torn. "I found 'em, boss." He sighed. "But I think I found 'em too late. Mist Eyes have 'em."

"They what?" Oh, right, that business with their courier, the one that set them at odds with the Red Blades. She calmed herself with a single breath. "Tell me what you know."

"Two of the kids what got run out of Bilk's place was willin' ta talk to me, and they helped me find the kids as was helpin' the targets. That led us back to lower east, and... they're stayin' in a safehouse under the spoke. But that courier, Faldor, he was leadin' 'em off as I got there." Bassom shook his head. "The kids, the ones helpin' me, they says this crew ain't Guild, but... safehouse? Mist Eyes? I dunno. What do I do here?"

Vallista considered that. Bassom wasn't the smartest or the bravest, but he knew when he was in over his head and she was starting to appreciate that. "...You did the right thing," she said, reluctantly. She could wish that he'd found them sooner, but what good would that do? If he had, she might have been able to take them before the Mist Eyes found them. But if they'd been working with the Mist Eyes?

That made no sense, though. The Mist Eyes held Lower City East, and their immediate rivals were the Red Blades in Lower City Southwest -- and maybe the Beggars in Lower City North. Only a bit of their territory overlapped with hers; if they were going to expand into the Middle City, it would make far more sense to move in on the Silverstrings' territory, most of which was directly above them.

She didn't know Cedric Bloodblade, but the man had a reputation as a canny and persuasive leader with good support from his own gang. The Mist Eyes controlled about a quarter of the lower city, as did the Beggars and the Red Blades. The remaining quarter nominally belonged to the Stevedores, but was a patchwork of small, independent communities that mostly had nothing to do with the guild at all.

She needed to know more. If the Mist Eyes took care of this crew for her, well... embarrassing, but as long as it wasn't widely known she could live with that. If they were, for some mad reason, working together...

"I need you to go visit the Mist Eyes," she said. "Don't provoke them, but don't let them turn you away. Tell them you've come to speak to Cedric Bloodblade on my behalf, and insist on speaking to him directly. Tell him I'd like to meet him for dinner, tonight, at the Overlook."

Bassom swallowed, but nodded. "I can do that," he said. "I'll get it done."

"I'm trusting you with this," Vallista told him. 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part five

Jacques Fontaine was technically a prince, and could have taken the throne -- if he'd been willing to try taking over a court that passionately hated his entire bloodline and likely would have seen him assassinated within the year. His parents had understood that, and arranged for Jacques and his siblings to inherit their grandmother's titles and estate in Caristhium instead. The lands and titles carried a comfortable income, and if the dukes were content to leave him alone, he was more than willing to return the favor. 

At the moment, he was busy in the library, composing a bit of poetry for the young lady Fiona Silvercliff, daughter of the baron, who'd taken to writing to him. It was pure silliness, about a paladin who'd sworn a mighty oath to recover an escaped hog for a poor farmer, and found himself in progressively more embarrassing positions as the quest progressed; it would end with him being hauled out of a lake by his cloak by the hog itself, he thought. Lady Silvercliff wasn't his only correspondent, but she was one of his favorites and he enjoyed sending her these little amusements.

The library door opened and his younger sister Yvette came in, focusing on him immediately. "Jacques," she said. "Whatever you're working on, stop it. We have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" he asked, masking his irritation by habit. He hated being interrupted when he was composing things, but it wouldn't be right to take that out on Yvette. Especially if there actually was some sort of emergency. 

"An armed group just appeared outside the gates -- gave the guards a proper scare. Julien went to look them over, but we should get out there just in case."

Indeed we should. That was the other reason Jacques had hidden his reflexive irritation: Yvette was not in the habit of interrupting him with trivialities. He hesitated for a moment, but this was the library after all; he rose, and pulled an antique rapier off the wall, carrying it with him as he followed his sister out the door. 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part four

"Do you think they'll be okay?" asked Aesa. She was a half-elf, and ran the local chapel of Amun where Sun was now part of the clergy. "I can't believe your three..." 

"That was a surprise," Amaranth admitted. "Tybalt's always been... goal-oriented, but I hadn't imagined that he'd reach out to Ruin like that. If we're all being honest, I'm still surprised that it worked."

"I think they'll be fine," said Eva. "I suspect Grandfather may have lent a hand; he's had a bit of a soft spot for Ruin since our time at the Temple."

Alnira and Nym were holding hands, for all appearances True Elf and Elf. They'd been married for decades before Ruin departed for Asgard, with the result that Skyflower and Morrigan had grown up essentially as twin sisters, even though they only shared a father. Nym said, "I still worry, though."

"So do I," Eva admitted. She was the only one present who wasn't technically a parent; Sun, Risk, and Scar had all three been born of Ruin and her sister Rita. Still, as an aunt and de facto parent, she always came to the family gatherings. 

"How did you arrange the wizard?" asked Alnira, looking at Aesa.

"I knew Tavros in happier times, back at the Temple of Amun," the half-elf admitted. "When I sent him a message, he arranged it." She paused, reflective. "I was so relieved when I found out that he and Ruin had become friends." She looked at Amaranth. "I'm still a little jealous that you actually got to marry him, though."

Amaranth lowered her head. "It was... It was good. And I'm still sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Aesa said, and wiped away an unexpected tear for Vendril. She had a husband now, and other children, but they were still too young to go off and slay gnolls -- and her husband had contented himself with grilling food and providing drinks for the gathering. 

Nym said, "Have you considered joining the... well, the kids are calling it the Disorder. I think everybody except Sun has already, and she's still made offerings." 

"Amun won't mind that," said Aesa, and offered Eva a smile. "I know Grandfather well enough to understand that, at least."

Eva smiled back at her. "No, he won't. I don't think I can pledge myself, but I'm with Sun -- I'd still make offerings."

"Same," said Aesa. 

"Yes, me as well," said Alnira. 

"I've been thinking about it," Amaranth admitted. "They have a shrine, back behind my forge. I'm still just trying to decide if I want talk to him again, or if I desperately want to avoid it."

"He's not dead," pointed out Aesa. 

"No," Amaranth returned, "but he's gone."

Aesa closed her eyes and lowered her head, conceding the point.

"I just hope those gnolls aren't too much trouble," Nym said. 

"For a horde of our children?" Alnira responded. "And if the wizard's routing them through Caristhium, maybe Tavros' as well?"

"Those gods-cursed gnolls won't know what hit them," Aesa predicted.

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part three

"Latosh Sylvarin, at your service," said the mage with a bow. He was old: silver-haired and thin-limbed, wearing a dark robe and leaning on his staff. "May I ask who you are, that the King would send me in person to transport you?" He focused on the small crowd in front of him, then blinked at the three half-dragons. "Are you kin to him?"

Sun shook her head, and smiled without showing her teeth. She was a full head taller than the wizard, and had thrown on plate armor under her robes. "We're the children of his ally, Ruin of the Highwaymen."

Latosh froze for just a moment. Then he nodded. "I see. Very well. His Majesty had a request, so we will make a stop along the way."

Tybalt exchanged a puzzled glance with Sun, then said: "As the King desires."

"You're all ready?" Latosh asked, reaching up to stroke his beard. "Equipment and supplies all gathered, arms and armor readied, and like that?"

"We're ready," Sun confirmed. 

"Very well. This will take a few minutes, but it can most assuredly be done. I'll need you all to remain inside the circle while I inscribe it, and once we arrive I'll thank you to stay still while I make introductions."

"Where are we going?" asked Rose, as they gathered together.

"Why, the Fontaine estate in Caristhium, of course." Latosh Sylvarin frowned, as if that should have been obvious. "As the King desires."

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part two

"You want to do what?" asked Sun, looking aghast. She was dressed in a robe of bronze and white, which contrasted intriguingly with the gold scales that covered her body. 

Tybalt looked up at her. "I want to found a Temple to our father," he said simply. He was a true elf, dark-haired and pale-skinned, slender and graceful. 

"It isn't really a matter of want," Azrael added. "These two've done it."

"How?" Sun was a cleric of Amun, newly appointed; as far as she knew, this shouldn't be possible.

Tybalt shrugged. "We built an altar, and we pledged ourselves, and he answered."

Sun tilted her head. "So you can actually cast spells?" She was perceptive enough to realize that, of her True Elf half-siblings, Tybalt would have been the one to set this up, and the most likely to have become an actual cleric. ...Of our father, she thought, still trying to wrap her mind around that. 

Tybalt seemed to realize that some sort of demonstration was in order; he gestured and spoke, and a ball of water appeared in the air and splashed to the ground. 

"And I can smite," Ash confirmed. 

"Okay, that's pretty cool," said Risk, who'd been training in unarmed combat -- if fighting with his claws could be said to be unarmed. Like Sun and their brother Scar, he was a golden half-dragon, with all that that entailed.

Scar nudged him. "We should take them with us." He'd turned to his own natural aptitude for magic, begun tapping into it. 

"Take them with us where?" asked Morrigan, who looked deceptively like nothing more than a high elf. 

"Oh, right, I didn't tell you yet." Scar smiled, charming as ever. 

Rose and Skyflower drifted over. "Okay," said Rose, "what are we plotting today?" Skyflower was another of the True Elves, but Rose looked more like Morrigan and could easily have passed as her full sister.

"Heroics," said Scar dramatically, throwing up one hand for emphasis. "Apparently there's a band of gnolls that have drifted down into the Ladriaio Woods, and are using the Sweetwoods to stay hidden so they can raid some of the outlying settlements around Aldpond. Aldpond doesn't have any significant fighting force, and the King's Troops at Wellfort are stretched pretty thin, and haven't been able to mount a significant counterattack or effective patrols. The king himself is busy putting down a revolt of the Wildlanders,"

"I have questions," said Skyflower. "Starting with: how do you know this?"

Scar shrugged. "Magical insight, of course."

"He means there was a notice posted at the tavern the other night," Risk corrected, "What do you think, my siblings and half-siblings?"

Ash shrugged, touched the falchion that was slung across her back. "I'm a Paladin of Ruin," she said. "I'm in." 

Tybalt nodded; his falchion was belted at his waist. "Is anybody not in?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," said Scar. "Anybody down there who didn't know our father's name before is about to find out." He glanced at Sun. "With credit to Amun as well, of course."

She nodded back at him. "All we need to do now is get down there. And I have an idea about that." 

Duendewood: Children of Ruin, part one

"What are you doing?" asked Azrael, watching as his brother placed a pair of candles on the exposed chunk of limestone that had come loose from the hillside behind it. It was well back from their mother's hidden forge, which was already isolated from almost everything. 

"It's a shrine," Tybalt told him. He was the middle child and the most thoughtful of the siblings. He was also the most slender of the three, closer to a typical True Elf than either of his siblings. "For our father."

"Not the Highwaymen?" asked Ash, curious. She was the oldest, dark-haired and stocky, already practiced at arms and eager to learn everything their mother could teach her.

"Not yet," said Tybalt. "Just Ruin. If we get more worshipers, we can add rites for the others."

"We?" asked Azrael. He was solidly built too, like their parents, and spent most of his time assisting their mother at the forge. 

"We," Tybalt confirmed. "Our father helped defeat Galvera twice: once here in Midgard, and again in Asgard. He deserves to have his own clergy--" Tybalt looked at Ash. "--And his own martial order. You up for that, big sister?"

Azrael leaned back against a tree and watched Ash consider that. His sister loved combat, and she'd taken to the falchion in honor of their father. "You think I should become a paladin in service to our father," she said slowly. 

"I think our father deserves to have an order of paladins devoted to him. It can't be me -- I've sparred with you, and by comparison, well, I suck. Azrael's devoted to the forge -- and our mother's craft -- and  while I'd like to see him become the first lay member of of our father's church, I don't see him becoming a paladin."

"You've been thinking about this," Ash observed, studying Tybalt's face. "What would you say our father should be the god of...?"

"Battle, and Travel, and Justice," Tybalt replied. "That's what I've got so far."

"Outcasts," suggested Azrael. "Found families."

"Good," admitted Tybalt. 

"Revenge?" suggested Ash. "No, that's not quite right. But... Endurance, maybe? Like, all those things that happened and he just kept going."

"Endurance is good," Tybalt affirmed. 

There was a moment of shared silence. "Yes," said Ash. "I could pledge myself to that."

"Good," said Tybalt. "Because I'm going to become his first cleric." 

"All right," said Azrael. "You're going to need lay worshipers too, and I'll be the first."

Tybalt pulled the tinder box from his belt, opened it, and touched a dried reed to the ember inside. He used the burning reed to light the candles. "Sister, we'll need your blade on the altar."

Ash nodded, unbuckled her baldric, and laid it and the falchion it held atop the chunk of limestone. Tybalt had brought along a bow; he strung it and placed it across the falchion. 

"No," said Ash. "That's not right. Bow on the bottom, Falchion on top."

Tybalt nodded and reversed them. 

"Oh!" said Azrael. "Just a minute." He hurried back down to his room beside the forge, and returned with a small ruby. "For the gem he got from the Druid Hierophant, and returned to the next."

"Yes," Tybalt said firmly. "A contribution from each of us, to complete the connection. Step up and touch the altar."

They came forward and put their hands on the rectangular chunk of limestone, regarded the candles. It was almost dark, that liminal time when day gave way to night. "I pledge myself as a Priest of Ruin the Defender, who in his life was Oathkeeper, Warrior, and Traveler."

Ash said, "I pledge myself as a Paladin of Ruin the Endurer, who in his life was a survivor, an explorer, and a warrior."

Azrael nodded thoughtfully. "I pledge myself as a simple worshiper of Ruin the Father, who in his life was protector, outcast, and family-builder."

There was a long moment of silence. 

Then a silent voice echoed through the trees. MY CHILDREN, it said, I AM SO VERY GRATEFUL. 

Music: Friend or Foe?

t.A.T.u.

DoT: Retribution Comes In Many Forms

"It wasn't them," said Faldor. "They're using one of the Guild safehouses under the lower east spoke, but we've been watching them and they were doing something for the druids the night Nikilo went missing."

Across the table from him, Cedric Bloodblade shifted his weight, then took a sip of his beer. It wasn't good beer, but then it wasn't particularly bad beer either. "I'm almost disappointed," he said, "but likely that means that this one really was the Redblades." He considered that. "Turf wars are bad for business, but maybe Mad Mattie's forgotten that -- or Varna's decided to turn his ambitions in another direction."

"I'd put money on Varna," said Dalia. She was the gang's wizard, but she was also good at digging up information and putting things together. Rumor had it she was Cedric's cousin, and there was some resemblance -- but if so, neither of them had ever bothered to address it.

Cedric was thinking. Like Dalia, he was good at that; it was no small part of the reason that Faldor enjoyed being part of the Mist Eyes, even if they were a comparatively poor, small gang. The Bloodblade wasn't the most dangerous of the gang leaders, not in person -- though he could hold his own when he needed to. No, Cedric had gotten his position by being persuasive, perceptive, and good at planning.  

If Dalia was Cedric's left hand, Amon was his right. Surprisingly lean for a half-orc, he was deadly in combat and could put an arrow through somebody's eye from two spokes away. He spoke in a smooth baritone: "I wouldn't rule out Mad Mattie entirely, but I agree. It's more likely Varna. Won't be Verity; she only cares about two things -- protecting the Red Blades and that weird religion of hers." He sighed. "Sorry, Boss, looks like we get two different problems at once." 

Faldor watched as Cedric shook his head. "No, what we have here are opportunities." He looked at Faldor. "How many did you say were in this crew?"

"Five, maybe six. Plus a trio of street kids they picked up."

"And they didn't try to kill you. Instead, they distracted you so they could get what they wanted. Then they pulled that job up in Greycloak territory and got away clean... again, without killing anybody. They finally gave themselves away by helping out a local merchant, maybe to protect those kids they've been working with."

Faldor nodded. "That's how it looks, Boss."

"Etiquette says they crossed the Guild, they have to pay. Very well, I don't disagree. But 'pay' can mean a lot of things."

Amon tilted his head, considering. Dalia was already smiling. "Bring them in?" she asked. 

Cedric nodded, and absently reached down to touch the Bloodblade itself. "Yeah." He looked back at Faldor. "What I'm hearing is that they're talented but inexperienced, unprofessional."

Faldor sighed. "The one who set me up spends his mornings baking and the evenings playing music. I'm pretty sure their elf is dating one of the bartenders down at the Bluddy Nose, and I have no idea how the druid fits into all this. I don't think they're professionals." He considered that, then added: "At least, not at the Guild's sort of work."

"Do we think they killed Anderlin Greycloak?" Cedric was looking at Dalia. 

"I don't know," she said cautiously, "and I don't want to guess. If they did, it's the first time that we know of that they actually killed a person, and the group that hit the place were obviously in disguise but also apparently all humans. Shorewards, though, the group that's being blamed was around the right size and used some similar tactics, and they definitely did take whatever Greycloak and the merchant were making a deal over, along with Greycloak's rapier -- which they were smart enough to drop in the bay."

"All right," said Cedric. "I'll bite. The group 'that's being blamed'? You don't think they did it?"

"The wounds were all made by a dagger -- and poisoned, in Greycloak's case. Almost certainly the same weapon. I don't think this group has anybody who's up to that level of precision."

"Okay, I'm speaking above my place here and I know it," said Faldor, "but I have to ask: how do you know that?"

Dalia smiled. "You know that bakery on lower spoke east?"

"The Bread and Board," Faldor answered immediately. "Good stuff. Yeah, I approached the musician there precisely because the owner's brother... is a member... of the Greycloaks."

Dalia was smiling as he put it together. "I chatted him up as he was on way back up. He recognized me, and was very polite about it. We're having dinner tomorrow night."

 "Huh," Amon mused. "I know Vallista got her father's rapier back -- the Gleaners stepped in on that one."

Cedric nodded. "It wouldn't do to underestimate them, much as they keep to themselves. There are reasons that Tiassa reports directly to Othar Fastaxe. And that was a sharp move on their part." He leaned back in his seat, finished his beer, and set the heavy pewter stein back down on the table. "Okay, let's run this through. They show up out of nowhere, and take the delivery from Faldor but don't hurt him. Then they hit the woodcrafter up in Greycloak territory -- and again, manage to do it without hurting anybody. Then they -- somehow -- hit Telk's place over in Nightwalker's territory. We think. That's around the time that Tamsin's Tumblers disappear, probably because the Greycloaks are looking for answers and their members are just a little too similar to this crew."

"They'll either show back up undamaged, or nobody'll ever hear about them again." Amon suggested, and Cedric nodded. 

"But then they screw up," Cedric said. "They approach Bilk's shop, no disguises, and clear some kids out of the back for him. You see them," he added, looking at Faldor. 

Faldor nodded. "Only I can't follow them, because they're paying attention and the kids are guiding them in some ways that would make it obvious if I try to follow. But, again, nobody really gets hurt."

Cedric nodded at that. "Right. Then Anderlin Greycloak gets killed at some kind of exchange with a merchant, one that apparently even his own people don't know about. Vallista takes over the Greycloaks -- which isn't a problem for us, but'll probably surprise some people who think they might be vulnerable --  and I think we can assume that even if this group wasn't involved, someone is taking advantage of the disruptions they're creating. Meanwhile, they also seem to be working with the druids, helping out some people on their spoke, and making connections inside the Guild. What's the angle here?"

"Disrupt the Guild," Dalia said. "Set us against the Red Blades, the Greycloaks and other mid-level gangs against each other, and maybe call the Beggars into question as well."

Faldor nodded; so did Amon. It was almost a shame that Obstreperous wasn't present; the bugbear's advisor, a goblin who called himself Bean, might have had some interesting insights to offer as well.  

"It's not just some random crew who came into port and decided to do their own thing," said Faldor. "They've been too careful about the Guild for that. And they just don't act like career criminals, mostly. But Dalia's right: everything they've done has hurt the Guild overall. I don't think that's coincidence, but I don't see where this particular crew would come up with that goal on their own -- not without being a lot more careful about it."

Cedric nodded at that. "Then maybe we give them some guidance. They have talent, and they understand restraint." He looked around, took in Dalia and Amon's opinion with a glance, and then turned back to Faldor. "I need you to make them an offer..." 

Zero Draft!

Well, it's done. I have finished the zero draft (i.e. essentially unedited opening version) of the Horny Superteens book. Is it publishable? Probably not at this stage. Is it coherent? Yes, it hangs together and I don't think there are any significant plot holes. Is the plot a satisfying arc? I really don't know, I was thinking about a lot of 90s-era comics when I was writing it, so it kind of moves from one conflict to another to a third related conflict, and finally resolves that one. Could it be a series? ...Yes, I could write at least a sequel to this one, and probably a third to round out a trilogy. Is it any good? Well, the sections I've gone back and re-read (either to double-check details or just because my brain was still kind of there brought me joy, so there's that. Do the Horny Superteens "get any"? Yes. Oh dear ye immortal gods, yes. 

Frankly, the whole project has basically been keeping me sane this year, which is the primary reason that I wrote it. Now it's time to set it aside for a bit, get some perspective, and then go back and make a second pass at it -- and clean it up enough to let my trusted advisors give it a read and send me feedback. 

Meanwhile, probably on Monday, I'll be starting on my next project: a young were-squirrel who's been sent to stop the local baron from taking over his village. I know what the opening looks like, and I know the tone I'm going for. This one is going to have more a fairy tale flavor to it, and it's definitely a coming-of-age story. 

We'll see how it goes. I have a couple of others lined up behind it, so if I run aground I still have other options. And shifting to a different story sometimes makes the first story jealous, so there's that. Like I said, we'll just have to see. 

StV: New Member

"You're sure about this?" asked Charles, and Harbinger nodded. 

"I'm damned sure I want to try it," Harbinger told him. "If it doesn't work out, it's... what's that saying? No harm, no foul?"

He shrugged. "I don't actually know that one. But okay, nobody gets angry, nobody blames anybody?"

Harbinger nodded. "Exactly. Team Phoenix could use somebody to help with our mobility, and your other abilities would be hugely useful as well."

He took a deep breath. "And the part where I don't actually know how to fight?"

"You don't have to. You just have to keep yourself safe."

"Huh." He said. "Well, Troll thinks I can do it."

Harbinger nodded. "She's right. Plus, we're not a combat-heavy team, and if it really comes down to fighting that won't be your job anyway." 

"Okay. That would be good. I mean, it's interesting stuff to learn, I'm just not any good at it yet."

Harbinger paused outside the door. "That's fine. You don't have to be. Come meet the rest of the team." 

Music: Give Me Danger

Iggy Pop and the Stooges: 

Honeymoon!

Greetings! We are a newly-married couple, arriving for our honeymoon. We may have gotten a little lost, though -- the roads around here don't seem to match the map. Is this the Haunted Castle of the Vampires, where we booked a three-night stay with scenic views and unique experiences? It is? Oh, excellent! Well, do let us come right in, I'm sure we'll be very comfortable here.

How is this Tuesday?

The bushes tried to grab me on my way out the door this morning. The grass is looking unusually sharp and crystalline, too. The sun is a burning eye in the center of a vague but unimaginably vast shape, and I swear the clouds are frowning at me. Did dogs always have this many legs? I thought that was caterpillars. 

And -- God damn it -- I really need the road to stay still, instead of swaying around like this. If it uproots itself, it's going to make it really hard to get to work. Might have to go off-road and hope nothing comes down on me... 

How is this my Tuesday? 

State of Me, part whatever

Good weekend, with an interesting change of course in our D&D game that allowed me reintroduce some NPCs from earlier in the game: the group went down to the island's main fight club, the Bluddy Nose.This involved a mildly unwise amount of showing their faces, but our Druid disguised herself as a dog, and a couple of the others actually were in disguise. (Not the cleric, though -- her girlfriend works the bar, so naturally she was going as herself. The paladin got to have another match with one of local brawlers, who turns out to have a massive crush on her from last time they fought. Overall, it was an unexpected change of pace, but nothing I couldn't adapt to and I still got to insert the primary plot point that I had planned for the session. Next session should be pretty interesting.

Secondborn is back in school, and we're getting ready to get Firstborn moved back in as well. He'll have a roommate this year, which I think will be good for him. The new kitten is still doing well, and now displays no fear of the dog whatsoever. (He also got his morning bowl of food, and then five minutes later was back to meowing at me in a demand to be fed, because clearly he has never been fed ever in his whole fluffy life.) 

We spent Friday night with the grandparents, eating pizza and watching movies -- Now You See Me 2, in this case, which was fun.  

Other than that, not much to report, so I'm going to sign off and get back to work.  

 

Quick Note

I feel like maybe I don't say this often enough or loudly enough, but I am tremendously grateful to be married to Beautiful Wife. 

First Day Of

Brought Secondborn to school a bit earlier than necessary -- at his request -- and found a bunch of his friends parked at a table out front playing Magic: The Gathering. Apparently there is now something known as a "squirrel deck" and apparently it is the most annoying thing in creation. Anyway, got a nice shot of all them flipping off the camera for the first day of school (which, sadly, I won't share here for privacy reasons) and a couple of good First Day Of shots of Secondborn by himself. Dare I hope this will mark a good start to the school year and a better attitude on his end? I mean, hope springs eternal, but frying pans without fires are few and far between...

Anyway, he's due to go inside and pick up a Chromebook as soon as the place opens properly, and he seemed pretty chipper. We stopped by Starbucks to grab some breakfast, which was expensive but worth it, though the poor Starbucks workers were absolutely inundated by the First Day of School crowd.  He didn't even ask for any caffeine, so I guess he's about as ready as it's possible to be. 

Challenge: Not Feeling Well

Prompt: What I read when I'm not feeling well

Comfort reads! The short, easy answer is that I tend to go back and re-read books that I enjoyed previously. (Or, alternatively, play video games that fall into the same general category.) 

That includes some stand-alones: 

• Martha Wells, Wheel of the Infinite
• Martha Wells, City of Bones
• Roger Zelazny, Lord of Light
• Jennifer Crusie, Welcome to Temptation
• Jennifer Crusie, Faking It
• Jennifer Crusie, Bet Me

It also includes some series: 

• Roger Zelazny, Chronicles of Amber
• Barbara Hambly, the Darwath Cycle
• Robert E Howard, various Conan short stories
• Martha Wells, The Books of the Raksura

And, as I mentioned, a couple of video games that occupy a similarly comfortable/comforting niche for me: 

• Infamous and Infamous 2
• Infamous Second Son
• Soul Reaver (and various associated)
• Star Wars: Battlefront (the PS2 version, not the newer one)

There are a few others that I might jump back to if I were feeling poorly and the mood took me, but these are my go-to list.  

* * * 

(This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge. You can find links to other writers' answers over at Long and Short Reviews.)   

StV: Her Mother's Daughter, part two

Julie recognized the number on her phone, but ignored it and shoved it back in her pocket. Whatever was going down, her parents had brought it on themselves -- and let the Prophet drag her in and use her as His tool to try to clean up His mess. She wasn't having any more of that. She was damned lucky that Harbinger hadn't killed her -- or left her for the Hounds. 

But she'd made him an offer, and he'd accepted it. That meant she need to to act -- to let him know what she knew, to help him take down the Prophet. Maybe she'd get lucky, and Harbinger taking out the Prophet would turn her back to normal. Of course, if it did then she'd need to figure out what to do about Dastan, who was... not a deviant. An Anomaly, though, however harmless and nice he might be. 

Gods, my parents would hate that, she thought. It shouldn't have made the prospect of going out with him more appealing, but it did. She really wasn't sure how she felt about her parents right now, but angry seemed like a good start to it. 

Okay, so step one is go talk to Harbinger again, and step two is... sort out my fucking life.

It wasn't the best plan Julie had ever come up with, but it wasn't the worst either.  

StV: Florida Man, part fifteen

Tom Wilson/Florida Man,

I figure I owe you a letter at least, since you're probably getting antsy in there. Word is you've been well-behaved, and Araktul hasn't intervened. I figure that's you on your best behavior. So I wanted you to know that I'm cheering for you, and very impressed so far. And yeah, you probably still hate me for bringing you in, but you know the rules as well as I do. Better, maybe. 

I was right in thinking that people would be interested in you even with your record, so you'll definitely have some opportunities available if you keep this up. I'll tell you more about it if you write me back.

Yours, 

That Annoying Kid,
Cloudburst

* * *

Kid, 

Fuck off. I hate this, I hate you, and I can't believe I let you talk me into staying here. I haven't had a beer in two weeks. Do you have any idea what that's like? That's some kind of war crime or something. 

I mean. Yeah, all right, could be worse. I get fan mail, if you believe that. Including one woman who's clearly out of her mind because she says she wants to marry me. Still can't believe you actually wrote me, though. Means a lot. 

I'm staying put. Been thinking about some of the things you said, too. Like... out of everybody I know, the only two people who'd stand up for me are Araktul and you. And you're right, that's kind of sad. So I'll do my time and see what happens after. Not saying I'll reform or anything, just

Anyway thanks for writing,

Florida Man 

StV: Her Mother's Daughter, part one

Well, at least now I don't have to worry anymore about doing the wrong thing and getting myself damned, Julie thought to herself. I just went and damned myself, openly and knowingly. There's no coming back from this.

Maybe I can just be done with the whole thing...

Julie watched with something like religious awe as Harbinger strolled off to deal with the soldiers ahead of them. The lights overhead flickered and went out, and she switched her eyes over to what she thought of as Deviant Vision, where she could see in the dark and also spot Anomalies. "It's okay," she said to the small crowd of recently-freed prisoners behind her. "I can still see."

"Nobody's coming," Dastan said, beside her. He was around her own age, for all that she looked a half-decade younger. He was also what she'd been taught to believe was Deviant and Damned, but... his power was just that he could sense the lives around him, and he seemed... nice. "Harbinger is... taking care of things."

Everybody fell silent. There were screams coming from around the corner ahead, then silence there as well. Julie considered taking a look, but then somebody in front of them was talking, the specifics muffled by echoes. Harbinger had been nice too, in his way, but he was also... this.

"Dastan?" she asked, softly. 

He shook his head. "There's another Anomaly confronting him, but it's... weirdly incomplete?"

Then there were gunshots, echoing and nearly deafening in the concrete-walled corridors. "The other one is gone, and Harbinger is moving forward. We should just wait here."

Julie nodded. After a moment, she asked: "How did you end up with a name like Dastan?"

He shot her a grin, which should have been invisible in the blackness. She still would have heard it in his voice, though: "So, you have to know two things about my parents," he said. "One, they're huge nerds. And two, they really love the whole Prince of Persia franchise, including the movie. So when I came along, well... Dastan."

"Art and Computer Science, was it?" Julie mused quietly. 

He nodded. "I come by it honestly."