The CHALLENGE chugs on!

[Glass Mouse]

So where have I been?

I recently was admitted to a psychiatric ward due to suicidal thoughts and depression. I got out about 10 days ago and have been going to therapy.

I'm better but still not 100%. I'm taking some time off from the anatomy studies. I might try writing, but don't expect to see any admissions from me for awhile - like spring of next year.

Peace and love.

Hiatus'd.

edit: other thread

Another bout of well-wishes here from me. I'm so sorry to hear you've been struggling, and so glad to hear that you have been able to find help and support. If you need an ear or anything, don't hesitate to reach out - my PM box is always open.

I've subscribed to your thread and might participate if I think of something. Looking forward to seeing your writings.

[Icewalker]

More PMed text, cause moar spoilers! Book is coming to an end soon!

Be well, Android. Keep at it.

[Xiander]

As you can see on my Nano profile I did 12346 words of Marked by blood.

I did not manage anything else this week.

[LeSwordfish]

I detailed one level for the group game: Here
I made another. When taking a picture of it, I discovered that it had corrupted and removed half the prefabs. Can these two pictures act as evidence for that? The level as is. All the missing scenery.
I also wrote 300 words of level design theory for the game.

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Level Design Principles
- No bigger than 8x8 unless necessary, and roughly square
Keep levels small and square-ish: not only is this much easier to see with the camera, but it fits the "small sweet" aesthetic better.
Don't waste the player's time or space, but consider reshaping long and thin levels.
Unless there's a good reason, don't spread over more than a few height levels.
The "centre" of the level should be at 0,0,0. Keep things simple for yourself, centre both the pathing and "scenery" groups on this point.
- As clear as possible
Avoid elevators going down into the ground, avoid "tunnels" if possible.
Players don't need to see all level functions from any one point, but it should be possible to get an "overview" or general idea of the layout from at least one location.
Make sure that from key angles, scenery pieces don't obstruct puzzle elements.
- A nod to verisimillitude
Try to avoid completely discarding realistic shapes of buildings and ground, but clarity is far more important.
Sketching out Mountains/chasms/bluffs etc will combine well with the cuboid aesthetic to sell the environments as more than merely puzzles.
- Space tracks
Try and space out tracks when possible, use straight track pieces to spread out puzzle elements. If possible, run wires along seperate tiles to tracks.
- Not too much flat space
Conversely to the last, don't have too many large empty plateaus. Use scenery props to break up these areas.
- Collectibles
Remember that all are mandatory: players will have to collect all before completion.
Use collectibles to guide players towards solutions - or to guide them away to make simple puzzles seem more complex

Naming Conventions
(letter for theme)_(descriptive name)(_(version))
Examples: w_artshowcase, j_seesawtutorial_v2,
Letters: Western, City, Jungle, Space, Victorian, plus A for Alpha/greybox levels.
Names: Key identifying features or level purposes.
Optional version number.
Allows us to freely reorder levels by difficulty without renaming, and easier to identify by filename (w_twobridges is more notable than w_level1 or similar).

For my own game, I made fairly significant upgrades. Firstly, the hoops (which might have been visible last time?) now function fully - I can throw them down in the level however i want and they all link up perfectly. That's one day. For the second day, I encoded the rules of the game in, so it's actually a playable croquet game. Here's a video of the changes.
And finally, I did another conversion. As before, I only count "making" a model if I pretty much make it from scratch or spare parts, and that was the case for this model: Here

[jseah]

1k for that magical princess story

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Tanis was gaping. And so was Millie despite having seen it happen in front of her once before. But that was a sword that Rein had made into a flaming sword of magic. In some sense, that was what swords wanted to be; flaming swords made sense.
But a teaspoon? Who ever heard of a flaming teaspoon? Tanis was right now right here holding a flaming teaspoon. That seemed to mean that Rein could turn anything, absolutely anything, into a flaming version. And do it with no more effort than it took to wave a hand.
This was more than just magic. It was more than even the tales of arcane power told by the legends and myths of old. There was no preparation, no significant places of power or weapons made of dragon scale. Just a snap of the fingers and you were now holding a flaming teaspoon. It was almost godlike.
Millie looked down at her tightly cut dress, the royal necklace and thought about the sword that had flown out of her hand so fast that it had disappeared in a thunderclap. She had never thought about those things until just now, because they were storybook magic. They were just filed under 'the things Rein does'.
A flaming teaspoon didn't fit into a story.
"Um, Rein?" she asked hesitantly, aware that her face was ashen, "that sword during the test just now? You can do that again? Right?"
"Yeah, of course I can. And it doesn't have to be a sword. Teacup, a pebble, your fingernails. All the same to me," Rein shrugged, "I always dislike using violence to get my way, but I'm a very selfish person. You're my toy, and everyone else is just going to have to live with it. "
"You'll find those words not so easy to keep, young woman," Tanis narrowed his eyes, "real adventurers are more formidable than the knights you might have seen. "
Rein shrugged again, "you're welcome to try. And I'll warn you now that my greatest ability is to know things. "

"Hey, Rein?"
"Yes, Millie?"
"You could have controlled those men, couldn't you?" Millie put down her spoonful of soup, "you can control people, not just read them, right?"
"Mm. I could," Rein nodded slightly. She raised a spoonful of soup and sipped it delicately, savouring the taste. Although Millie didn't see what was so nice about a simple stew.
"So you didn't have to fight them, you could have just scared them off," Millie said.
Rein snaffled a piece of her bread and a spoonful of soup to go with it. "Yes?"
"Why didn't you?"
"That would be too easy, wouldn't it?" Rein looked at her and grinned sadistically, "I just love that look on their face. "
"If you wanted them to be scared, you could just have made them scared," Millie persisted in asking. Despite the warning signs she was learning to read in this woman.
"Millie, do you even know what you're asking?" Rein sighed, "mind magic makes things boring. Do you even know what it can do?"
Control people obviously. And reading minds. Millie said as much.
"It is so much more than that," Rein shook her head, "when you control someone, they stop being other people and become just another puppet in your play. Why would I write my own script when I can be the audience?"
Um? Millie must have looked confused. Rein sniffed and said, "hold up your hands. "
Millie raised her hands, looking at Rein questioningly.
"Now, what do you think mind control can do? If I controlled you and asked you to do a handstand, would you be angry?" Rein asked.
"Of course?" Millie said hesitantly.
"All right, take off your shirt," Rein said.
Millie untied the laces around her neck and rolled up her shirt in her hands. There was a wolf whistle and she was suddenly aware that she was exposed in her underwear in the middle of the tavern. The serving maids were staring at her and some of the leers on the men were downright disturbing.
"So, feel like putting your shirt on now?" Rein asked.
Millie blinked at stared at Rein, still holding her rolled up shirt and still sitting the middle of the tavern without her shirt, blushing furiously. "You're using it on me?!" Millie exclaimed. She hadn't even felt anything! In fact, despite her serious embarrassment, she didn't feel like putting her shirt on, or even running away. Even if she could think about doing that, Millie somehow didn't seem to consider doing any of it.
"All right, put it back," Rein said.
After a moment, Millie was left squirming in her seat. "See?" Rein said, "oh, and they won't remember any of that. "
Millie looked around and the diners in the tavern had just gone straight back to their idle talking, as if her previous exposure was just a lie.
"And would that be something you would be angry about?" Rein still wasn't done however.
Millie blinked. Yes. Yes, she should be furious at Rein right now. But she wasn't. And even when she tried to recall the memory of going shirtless in a public place, all she felt was the fiery embarrassment. Not feeling violated, or disgusted or angry.
"I'm... not angry. But I should be. That... that's also you?" Millie asked.
Rein shrugged, "you mean, it was me. I stopped using mind magic since I made them forget. But you still aren't angry, right?"
Millie nodded. She should be angry! She should be! But she just couldn't work it up. Taking off her shirt then was just a natural thing to do, and still felt like it. And she wasn't even under the influence of magic anymore!
"You see? Too easy," Rein smiled and went back to her soup as if there was nothing left to say. And there was nothing left to say.
Millie refrained from asking any more questions about dangerous magic after that.

750 for Hero's War

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"Oh my. "
Kupo swung her door open to let the three guests in. Their distinctive white and red hats marked their identity as members of the Pastora. And, she glanced at the sleeve, the triple line badges meant high ranking ones.
"Please, come in," Kupo stepped aside and showed them into the waiting room of her clinic. Good thing today was a slow day, no one was waiting.
"Thank you," the woman in front said, "I'm Xie, healer third rank, these are my colleagues, Rie and Zat, also third rank. Apologies for appearing unannounced. "
The three of them glanced around the room. Cloth padded benches arrayed around the walls surrounded the central open floor where thick cloth beds lay. The beds had wooden poles on either side for lifting, a simple and expedient device that had been designed to slot into the trolleys parked in the corner. The floor itself was scrubbed spotless and tiled with a smooth ceramic for easy cleaning.
Cato had gone all out to make a sanitary environment, almost obsessive in Kupo's opinion no matter how his germ theory had proven correct. Still, it wasn't her money and if Cato wanted to donate she wouldn't decline.
"What is this?" the other woman named Rie was looking at the water dispenser at the side of the waiting room. The cast iron barrel that held the water was enchanted. "Enchanted water?" she asked skeptically.
Kupo glanced at the three, feeling a little annoyed at Rie. She hadn't even waited for Xie to say what they were here for, even though all present Xie and Zat were looking curious though and Zat was even stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"The barrel contains clean water for drinking and washing of wounds. Filtered then sterilized by disruption magic," Kupo explained.
The healers nodded at each other, eyeing the magical tap that connected the barrel to the wall where the enchanted steel pipe carrying high density magic ran. It was visible to magic sense right through the cement structure.
"Very interesting," Zat said, still stroking his beard, "I suppose you are wondering why we are here? The Order of Pastora has noted your reports with great interest. Maybe you will be glad to know that your collaboration with this otherworlder, Cato, has caused Pastora to reverse its policy on Ektal. "
Kupo could only raise an eyebrow. That disagreement ran deep and personal, most of the Pastora leaders disliked King Ektal after all. Zat merely glanced at Xie with a small smile.
The woman leading the trio of healers stepped forwards, drawing a cloth case from her pocket.
The ex-healer couldn't help but gasp. She knew that embroidery pattern!
"Congratulations. For the advancement of medical knowledge and diplomatic services to the benefit of the Order, the Order of Pastora would like to present you with the badge of honourary healer, second rank. Would you accept?"
Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. The Order was giving her her original rank back! And they were phrasing it without the healer's oath?! Truly, they must really want her to return to not attach any conditions at all. Then Kupo noticed the open case. The badge had three lines, not the expected two.
"Um..."
Xie merely winked at her slightly.
"This healer humbly accepts the burden," Kupo said formally, still wondering why the badge was wrong.
"The Order of Pastora welcomes you," but instead of pinning the badge to her clothes, Xie just continued, "for exemplary services and experience, the Order of Pastora awards healer Kupo, third rank. "
This was completely unexpected. To suddenly regain her position and honour when Kupo had resigned herself to working with the university. And then to jump to the third rank, there were no higher ranks other than branch leadership.
While Kupo stood there, stunned, Xie picked up the small badge and pinned it to her shoulder sleeve.
"So, you are probably wondering why we are doing this," Xie said.
"A little," Kupo whispered back, "it seems too much. "
Zat answered for her, "we are here to discuss the establishment of a branch here in Minmay. We would like you to be a part of it. Your new rank is a recognition of your contribution and a necessity for the role Pastora would like to see you in. Specifically, the Order wishes to see you lead a special branch for the research into new healing arts. "

[Glass Mouse]

Status for the week November 7 - 13!


Glass Mouse passes with five expression drawings, three pages of short story, and one knight on a dead horse.

Lycunadari passes with six photos.

LeSwordfish passes with one game level, 300 words of level design, a converted model, and some coding for the game.

jseah passes with 1k for that magical princess story and 750 for Hero's War.

Some Android is out for now to focus on getting better.

Artman77 passes with roughly 3300 words of nanowrimo knight story.

Icewalker passes with 1600 words of writing.

Xiander passes with 12346 words of Marked by blood.

Bucky has dropped out to focus on music.


Thus, no one FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Artman77, Icewalker, and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 22 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Lycunadari
Current run: 201 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 23 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 40 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: -
Longest run: 42 weeks
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: 3 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Icewalker
Current run: 6 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 19 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Bucky
Current run:
Longest run: 1 week
Themes: -

This week's theme (November 14 - 20), chosen by Artman, is Gambler.

Next week's theme is chosen by Icewalker - let me know in PM or this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

[Icewalker]

Well, I finished Reliquary book one (first draft)! I'm...actually very unhappy with half of the epilogue-y scenes. Some may be fixable with better edits throughout the book as I start going back through it, but well I dunno. We'll see what happens. Other bits I'm quite pleased with, and there are some sections back there in the text I really love. It's an accomplishment, and one I'm happy with! Now I just gotta get editing. Last words, including some snippets of scenes that'll get edited in, and some notes on overall editing, barely reaching 1500 for the week, sent by PM.

A theme, eh? Let's run with this. The theme is things which are less finished/perfect than they appear.

(Do you actually want me to regularly PM you the text as evidence as I've been? Or would you rather I just cited numbers and let it be?)

[Xiander]

Still going strong, with 12996 words of Marked by blood this week. This is the first time I have gotten this far into nano without falling behid scedule.

[jseah]

1686 words for Hero's War

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The cry went up, tearing apart the peaceful sunlit afternoon like a gunshot.
"Nightcryers!"
This was immediately followed by a descending scream that was becoming despairingly familiar to the people at the fort. Sharp explosions dotted the landscape, throwing rock and shrapnel in all directions.
As the inhuman screams morphed into all too human ones, the nightcryers swooped out of their dive. Wingtips scraped the top of the scarred fortifications, as if mocking the puny humans below.
Then the spellcannons sparked to life. Magic flared and spat. Blasts of power traced gleaming paths upwards from the human defences.
The two flights of nightcryers were still climbing when the first spellcannon bolts swept past them. Thin webs of magic, gossamer strands sweeping ahead and around the bolts caught on wings and bodies. They broke and the bolts they were connected to swerved straight into the target nightcryers.
Spellcannons were merciless. Unlike human casters, they could fire as long as they had power. And unlike the zombies with their magic dissipating cloud, nightcryers were rather fragile. With no need to charge the sledgehammers the cannons were so famous for, they could fire near continuously. Streams of firebolts spat skyward, cutting through the flights and leaving only broken burning bodies behind.
The stragglers, a mere three, turned to wing back north, too high to effectively hit. Where they found a storm of wings rising to meet them. Elkas, with fire both in their eyes and in their guns.

"This is the second attack in a week! And in daylight too! Nightcryers never attack in the day!"
Topf glared at the final summary. The casualties were low, and damage to the sandbags was easily repaired. No one really thought the old stone wall was needed anyway, so who cared if it cracked a little? For two full flights of nightcryers, this was nothing.
Really, the biggest loss was the one tank of compressed magic and even that was nothing more than a handful of rimes. Not small but nothing to get worried about.
"Your point?" Topf switched her glare to the Minmay man sitting in her office.
"The rate of attacks have been increasing, and the monsters are changing their behaviour," Kwee said.
She just held his gaze, "the zombies developed a magic disruption aura. Your point?"
"Not this quickly and never like this," Kwee sprang up from the chair to pace, "we have received constant small attacks over the last two months. Groups of human zombies, wandering herds of zombie reki and piyo, a few flights of nightcryers. Before this, we had months between attacks, but each attack was an army, each one larger than before. "
Topf snorted. How was that supposed to be a problem? "So? Small groups are easy to kill. I for one think that's a good thing. We will use the time to prepare for the next army. "
"No, I think something has changed," Kwee gestured vaguely, "we don't know why the monsters are doing this and I would like to find out. "
"Who knows why the monsters attack us? All we need to know is how to kill them," Topf


"And so we grant you the title of Chancellor. "
The girl slumped slightly in her seat, recalling the formal event that had turned her peaceful life upside down.
As the second daughter of Aldar and not in the line of succession, she was doomed to have been married off to some wealthy merchant or a mayor's son. Not that she minded having such a life, that was just the way things worked.
Never in her mind did she expect to suddenly be pulled out from her cozy family home and sent all the way across the country and poured into the empty chancellor's seat. Duport had been a big bone of contention between all the other chancellors and Ektal, debated and pulled one way or another like Rekis fighting over a prized treat. It was an Issue, important and weighty. So why her?
The mayors of the country gathered in the full parliament had regarded her chancellorship with open surprise and suspicion. Rumours of how she had somehow seduced the king was the prevailing theory in court. Except that the young new chancellor was just as surprised to receive the post and certainly had nothing to do with it. Nor did she even want it! So why her?!
Someone had mentioned that this was all a conspiracy of Queen Amarante's but that was just crazy talk.
As big as the Duport succession was in Ektal, she simply couldn't believe it would have attracted Federation attention.
"Chancellor Duport?" the knock on her door preceded her advisor opening it cautiously.
Duport stopped her spinning in the swiveling chair with a blush on her face. Thomas, her advisor, was her teacher of the arts when she was growing up and his disapproval at her antics still made her quail in her shoes. He was just about the only person she could trust in this place and he knew it. So even though Duport could technically have him fired and exiled from the state, Thomas knew she couldn't do it. Besides, she trusted the man no matter how he constantly reminded her of her childishness.
She quickly brushed her skirt into something less messy and sat up straight. "What did you need?"
"These are the financial and security summary reports for the last three years. You will need to know the basics and learn the customs of this seat before you can proceed. "
He pointedly did not comment on her wince as he drew out the sheaf of paper from the folder. The thickness was daunting, more than even her marathon homework session from a particularly nasty punishment. And this was just the summary?!
Duport sighed to herself and picked up the first page to read.
She didn't get more than five pages of money moving between the various towns and villages before she was completely confused. Thomas wasn't helping, he was busy with his own bigger stack on the desk to her right.
Again, her attention wandered down to the drawer next to her knee and the three letters inside. One each from Chancellor Minmay and King Ektal, both offering support, advice and whatever else she wanted or needed. And by Selna did she need the help. She just couldn't trust either of them to not manipulate her to their own ends and the previous Duport had met a bad end due to just such machinations.
And so Duport resumed reading, trying to become good enough at something she was never taught to do, and to perform in a role she had never asked nor wanted.
The third letter sat unopened and untouched. Any noble could recognize that impression on the wax, the Inath Royal Seal. Duport didn't dare read it.
Crazy talk, right?

"Cato! Cato!"
He looked up as the voice interrupted the meeting with the woman from the nail making company.
"Cato!" The runner stomped up to the door and flung it open, "message from the bank director. "
Hm? Sometime leader of the university took his message in stride and unfolded the paper to read. There was only one graph and a few statistics.
That was still enough to make Cato shoot out of his chair like a rocket. "Tinard," he addressed the woman, "I am sorry but our meeting will have to be continued later. I need some time to consider this. "
Her mouth twisted in dissatisfaction but interruptions like this were common for Cato. Although most of them tended to be the sort that could be heard from across the university grounds. Tinard gave him a nod and got up to leave.
Cato waited for a long moment to be sure she was gone before quickly scribbling out two pieces of paper and turning to the still waiting messenger boy from the bank, "here are two notes you will take to Minmay and the bank director. Speak to no one of this, your job and maybe your family's well being are at stake. "
The boy nodded severely and left.
It was merely a simple statistical projection. Based on the average amount of money each family earned and the total amount of deposits and loans of the bank, an estimate of the total amount of raw cash existing in Minmay city was made. Then a simple calculation based on the amount of goods being produced by the rapidly expanding companies and the recently lowered prices gave an estimate of the total value of goods being produced.
And despite the constantly lowering prices, or perhaps that was a symptom of the problem since Cato was quite hazy on economics, it was clear that the amount of goods that could be produced would soon exceed the amount of money available to pay for them. In other words, while everyone could effectively buy more and more with less and less money, there still wouldn't be enough to money to buy everything. The paper roll company soon to start and Cato's own collaboration for borehole drilling might push the economy over the edge.
Goods sitting in shops because workers were still waiting for their paychecks. Companies couldn't pay each other when they simply didn't have the cash, but were clearly profitable and solvent. No wonder some of them had resorted to goods exchange agreements, Cato had suspected something strange was happening when the Greater Circle raised an issue of contract law that sounded suspiciously like a very fancy form of barter trade. They had complained that the bank didn't build up the deposits to grant loans quickly enough, fractional reserve banking was a big taboo with Minmay. Now he knew that it was just a symptom of a lack of currency.
And perhaps that would explain why the Central Territory and Duport seem to keep losing money no matter how much they were getting richer themselves from the development of technology. It was flowing into Minmay, like water filling a hole.

[LeSwordfish]

This week I wrote 1417 words on Dishonored 2 (spoilers!), and painted a tank.

[Icewalker]

I have started another dnd campaign, and am writing it in prose as well! I'm really really excited about this one. So for any interested, here is the first 1500 words of The Three Truths.

Spoiler: The Three Truths

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Devi Sunjaya prodded the embers in the stone firepit built into the center of their small home. It was a cool day, at least by Pasir standards, and a fine time for tea. Devi tossed the covers back over the bed, messy since their afternoon nap, and then began rooting through the many objects filling the crowded shelves. After a few minutes of shuffling jars of various powders, dried plants, and reagents, they happily produced a small tin of imported tea leaves from across the Middle Sea and placed a careful spoonful in a cup, pouring hot water in after them.
The knocking came as a surprise. Devi stared at the closed door suspiciously. They did not get a lot of visitors, and in Kota Ombak it was best to stay wary around strangers. Double checking that their broad falchion sat within arm’s reach, Devi moved to answer the door.
Sunlight blared unwelcomed into the small apartment, and Devi blinked several times before looking down at their visitor, a rather slight human wearing a foreigner’s rough approximation of appropriate desert clothing. The man was human, with the tanned complexion and dark hair of a Koro-Sur native from the east.
“Ah, is this the home of Devi Sunjaya?” His Damai was thickly accented, though Devi could not pin down its origin. Standing nearly a foot shorter than the well muscled orc the man was far from intimidating, but Devi kept one hand on the broad knife at their belt nonetheless: looks could be deceiving.
“Yes, I am Devi.”
“Oh! Wonderful!” The fellow clumsily shuffled the books around in his arms to extend a hand. “Hello! It is a pleasure to meet you! My name is Franz Herog.”
Devi took the man’s hand cautiously, and received a feeble but enthusiastic handshake. “And why are you here?”
“Why, I read your paper!”
Devi blinked, rubbed his eyes once, and stared at the man again. Nobody read his research. There was literally one other person in all of the Pasir who cared one lick about the Eder, and Peter had co-authored that paper. “You read my paper?”
Franz nodded excitedly. “Yes, actually…” he began shuffling through the books and papers beneath his arm, searching through them. “Oh!” With a desperate failed grab, the books and papers tumbled from his arms and onto the sand dusted doorstep. He muttered a quiet curse in another language, presumably Surrian, and dropped to his knees to scoop up his belongings, pulling a page victoriously from the mess. “Here we are! Examinations On the Herding Traditions, Tools, and Language of the Eder Culture.”
“Where did you even get this?” Devi asked, bewildered.
“The libraries in Gan-Su are very extensive,” Franz waved vaguely towards the east. “I know very little but the mysteries of your ancient Eder, I find I am very curious about!”
“Well please, come in, have some tea.” The tea! Hopefully it had not oversteeped during their exchange. Devi closed the door behind the guest, pouring a second cup, and pulling their manuscript on the Eder language off of the shelf. “Here, you must see this, it is fascinating. I must confess my greatest interest is in the remarkable dual linguistics of the old culture.”
“Ling...I am sorry, Damai is not my first language.”
“Linguistics, studies of their language. The Eder had two languages, you see. Their day to day spoken tongue, but also a second, sacred language, used only in very particular contexts, often interspersed into regular Eder writings. I suspect that the sacred language, Puiyah, may have been used for some sort of old magic that has since been lost to us. I cannot find any real evidence of the Eder studying or using arcane techniques in the modern sense, but there are clear signs that they had some sort of magical capabilities.”
Franz nodded, accepting the bound collection of several hundred pages. “I see! I am eager to hear more, I am very far without knowledge of the Eder.”
“So I would expect!” Devi laughed, “There are only two archaeological digs we have found, and only two archaeologists to dig them!” They sipped at their tea. Perfect.
“Then you have a colleague in-”
Franz was interrupted by a knocking at the door, this much louder than the last. Devi stared dumbfounded. There were not even two people in this city who they would ever expect to find at their door. Two visitors in a day was a situation they had never once experienced.
Devi stood, very aware of the knife at their hip and sword propped near the door. Light, heat, and sand once again made their unwelcome way into the comfort of the apartment. Much less light that last time, however.
It was not often that Devi found themselves standing eye to eye with another person. It was even less often, in fact never, that Devi had found themselves standing eye to eye with a goat. Goatman. Goat-person?
The visitor matching Devi’s six and a half feet had a light veneer of mottled brown hair across their skin, their jaw extending slightly beyond the profile of their face, broad teeth visible in a scowl. A pair of heavy spiraling horns curled around the sides of their head to end pointing forwards, framing yellow-green eyes which were tired and rectangular-pupiled. A sickle-like blade of bronze hung from his hip, and the minimalist pack of an experienced traveler from his shoulders. He shifted on digitigrade hoofed feet, and spoke in a language Devi did not recognize.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The visitor spoke again. This time Devi caught their own name in the words.
“Ah, excuse me,” Franz stepped up nervously behind Devi, before speaking something in the same foreign tongue to the new visitor. The two exchanged several words.
“What are you saying?”
“He says he hates boats, and he wants to know if this is the home of Devi Sunjaya. Should I tell him it is?”
The visitor gestured towards Devi. “Devi Sunjaya?”
Devi nodded, “Yes, I am Devi. Devi Sunjaya,” he pointed to himself.”
“Ahh!” The traveler’s tired and sour expression abruptly changed to an extremely pleased smile. He reached out and clapped Devi heavily on the shoulder. Devi immediately produced the large knife from his belt, holding it between him and unknown on his doorstep. The satyr-like figure laughed jovially in response, and spoke again.
“Ah, he says he is pleased to finally meet you, and really hates boats,” Franz supplied.
“Ask him who he is and why he is here.”
Franz translated, and the traveler replied, visibly relaxing. “He says he is named Shamgar and that he has been searching the world a long time, and that another orc named Kanta Tamu told him to find you. He said they were shipmates.”
Shamgar nodded, pointing to himself. “Shamgar.”
Devi let the knifepoint drop a couple inches. “Old Kanta? I haven’t heard from that stodgy old gardener since he left to travel the east seven years ago. Huh.”
Devi eyed the bronze khopesh the traveler was armed with, though the goatman didn’t appear to be reaching for it. The edges of the blade were ornately styled with small curling patterns, a beautifully made tool. The tip of the weapon in particular was carved with a minutely detailed relief of a ram’s head. But that was...
“Where did you get that!?” Devi demanded.
Shamgar blinked, looking down at the blade. Franz translated desperately.
“He says it is his, that it was made for him when he was a child and he has always carried it.”
“That’s an Eder design, but it’s clearly new. Who made it? Who is out there copying Eder artifacts? Where are you from?”
Shamgar’s gaze locked onto something in Devi’s apartment over his shoulder, pointing and speaking.
“Um, he is not answering your questions,” Franz said nervously, “He is demanding to know where you got that pot.”
Devi gave a quick glance over his shoulder, quickly returning his eyes to the still untrusted guest. “Peter and I found it at a dig site to the north. It’s an Eder artifact. There’s a partially legible Eder poem inscribed around it, we’re pretty sure it was used to store grain but the text is missing a few words. It’s all metaphors anyway, in Eder.” Franz lifted the pot carefully from the shelf, carrying it over to the door. Shamgar stared at the clay, eyes wide. “Why? How do you know about the Eder?”
“Once stored in unshed tears of sky / The drops of rain to barley seeds / Soon stored in earthen fired clay,” Shamgar read aloud, syllables trilling from his tongue, smoothly filling the missing patches of the inscription that were too eroded to read. Devi stood shocked, the Eder words slightly different in pronunciation than he knew them, but the language undeniable. The traveler stood in the doorway, tears running down his face as he extended a hand to touch the side of the ancient red clay.

[Glass Mouse]

Let's pretend like we didn't get to Saturday before this status post happened, thaaaanks. Time to seriously shape up for me! Status for the week November 14 - 20!


Glass Mouse passes with four expression drawings and three digital drawings.

Lycunadari passes with seven pretty nature photos.

LeSwordfish passes with 1417 words of game essay on Dishonored 2 and a painted tank.

jseah passes with 1686 words for Hero's War.

Artman77 updated his NaNoWriMo with 1322 words.

Icewalker passes with 1500 of finished(!!) Reliquary.

Xiander passes with 12996 words of Marked by blood.


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Icewalker, and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

Spoiler

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 23 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 202 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 24 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 41 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Icewalker
Current run: 7 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 20 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (November 21 - 27), chosen by Icewalker, is things which are less finished/perfect than they appear.

Next week's theme is chosen by Xiander - let me know in PM or announce it in this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

---

Well, I finished Reliquary book one (first draft)! I'm...actually very unhappy with half of the epilogue-y scenes. Some may be fixable with better edits throughout the book as I start going back through it, but well I dunno. We'll see what happens. Other bits I'm quite pleased with, and there are some sections back there in the text I really love. It's an accomplishment, and one I'm happy with! Now I just gotta get editing. Last words, including some snippets of scenes that'll get edited in, and some notes on overall editing, barely reaching 1500 for the week, sent by PM.

Congrats!!! That is an accomplishment, and well worth feeling proud. I know the feeling, however, that the moment you finish, you feel underwhelmed. It may just be the post-writing crash, and editing will clear that up.

A theme, eh? Let's run with this. The theme is things which are less finished/perfect than they appear.

(Do you actually want me to regularly PM you the text as evidence as I've been? Or would you rather I just cited numbers and let it be?)

I'd like some kind of evidence, yeah. Either via PM or a Google Doc or whatever.

Still going strong, with 12996 words of Marked by blood this week. This is the first time I have gotten this far into nano without falling behid scedule.

And STILL going strong! You can do it!!!

[Xiander]

And STILL going strong! You can do it!!!

I have DONE it!!
I finished my 50000 words of nano today, with an amazing 6500 words written just today. I do not currently have the mental faculty to calculate how much Ir wrote this week... I might do it tomorrow.

[jseah]

Apologies for formatting, am posting from phone since my Internet crapped out on me in the last three hours.

460 words for another hack at the concept magic system; this time in a Worm fanfiction.

Spoiler

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*Taylor stared down at her glasses sitting on the table. *The last little piece of plastic lens lowered onto the frame and then clicked into place with a tiny snap. *A snap that held a finality beyond its volume. *

*Her glasses were whole again. *The lens fragments that had been ground under Emma's shoes had slotted into each other under her tweezers. *

*She was a cape! *

*

*Ever since waking up in the hospital after the locker, Taylor had felt a pressure inside herself. *Day by day, it had grown, although she had never felt like it could cause her harm or make her explode. *It was undefinable, or undefined, like a thought not yet formed. *

*After going back to school and having her glasses broken by Emma on her very first day back, Taylor fumed in her room, cursing and playing out fantasies of revenge in her head. *Her ex-friend, no that girl, even dared to pin the blame for her shattered glasses on Taylor! *It was a depressingly familiar tactic however. *

*And in the midst of that, when Taylor was wondering how she could explain her glasses to Danny, wishing that her glasses were whole again, when the pressure had blossomed and seeped into the warped frame and pieces of plastic lens on her desk. *

*Superimposed on the wreckage, Taylor could see an image of her glasses. *No, an idea of her glasses, a perfect working version. *

*She twisted the frame, trying to get it to overlay the image, and was surprised when the metal bent and twisted under her fingers. *It wasn't Taylor doing it, somehow she knew the image was helping her. *

*Repairing the glasses didn't take long after that. *

*

*So, she was a cape. *That meant she was a hero, right?

*Taylor looked down at the pair of glasses. *She could still see it, the actual physical glasses and the image of it. *The idea of her glasses. *The image didn't have the same sort of tension it had when her glasses was still broken, as if it was struggling to return the physical form to match the image. *The power inside her also resided in the image and it was spending that power to try to repair itself. *

*This was her power? *To repair things? *Taylor turned the glasses over in her hands, watching the image turn with it. *She poured a trickle of power into it but nothing happened. *

*Hmm. *Taylor pulled open her desk drawer, took out a blunt pencil and broke off the nib. *Focusing on what the pencil looked like, with a sharp point, she pushed her store of power into the pencil. *

*Like magic, the image sprung up over the pencil. *The image held the same tension. *

1275 words for Hero's war

Spoiler

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*The noxious mixture swirled in the tank, biding its time. *One mixture test out of many. *

*"Living Fire test thirty seven! *All clear! *Engage pump!"

*"Argh!"

*Not a few people were startled when the flare of light swept the evening shadows aside, a stream of fire blazing out into the charred testing range. *Refined crude oil, separated by crude distillation processes, yielded a black sticky liquid that was highly flammable and stuck to nearly everything. *Mixed with powdered white phosphorous, the combination was a deadly pyrophoric sludge that set everything alight. *It even burned on water, sending up gouts of steam and smoke that choked everything. *Spraying water on a spill of the stuff caused steam explosions. *

*The Minmay Guard started calling it living fire and the name stuck. *

*A whole new set of safety precautions had to be invented, including improving on the fire resistant cloths. *Quality control procedures to be followed strictly lest deadly mishaps occur. *Right now, they were in the process of developing a nozzle to turn a mixture usable only in bombs into a flamethrower. *Getting the gout of flame was easy. *Doing so with a safe off switch and not having the nozzle drip fire afterwards? *That was much harder. *

*The flames died away as the testing ground gained a new pyre right beside the previous one. *The nozzle still dripped, bright orange white drops hitting the sandy soil with infernal hisses. *Three of the guards approached with inert powder sprayers. *

*"That's an impressive weapon you've invented there," Minmay muttered. *

*"You mean terrifying," Cato clarified, "imagine if this was pointed at people, not monsters. *Flamethrowers filling an entire trench with living fire, melting even the bones. *In bombs carried by Elka or flying craft. *An appropriate mixture with elemental Water? *Vapourized Water combined with the heat will eat through even Muller's reinforced concrete. *Drop a few thousand onto a city and you have a Firestorm. *No more city. *Space them out over farmland? *No more people. *"

*"If this weapon can ensure the end of the zombies, the risk is worth it. *If we are to die, at least we die by own hands instead of the claws of a monster. *Plus, you know that the good Queen will work hard to ensure no one uses living fire against people," Minmay said. *He paused for a moment. *"But I have to admit that the idea of making such an effective way to kill massive numbers of people has its drawbacks. *"

*If they could make enough to burn all the zombies, they could make enough to burn a small country. *The worst part of the entire invention was that living fire was cheap. *Cheaper than an equivalent amount of magic required to have the same effect, on top of the efficiency the white phosphorous had shown in the Fort Yang battle. *Development hadn't been cheap of course, trying to get an effective formula through testing thousands of combinations, but the promise of an area of effect fire weapon that worked on zombies was worth any amount of money. *White phosphorous grenades hadn't seemed that dangerous since people didn't burn well and concrete construction limited its usefulness. *Given the results, the Federation was probably going to regret sponsoring the cost of the living fire project. *

*So in one of his less brilliant moments, Cato's eagerness to ensure they had an effective weapon for zombies by the next attack meant that he had outsourced the mixing and testing of the combinations to hundreds of 'subcontractors', most of them spies of other territories thinly disguised as research companies in Minmay. *

*Sharing technology crucial to the defence of humanity sounded like a good idea until the weapon worked far beyond anyone's hopes. *Hell, this stuff could give napalm a run for its money. *And that was before the presence of magical disasters that literally set the sky on fire. *

*"Nothing to say?" Cato looked to his left. *

*Landar standing beside him was uncharacteristically quiet, he would have thought she would have been coming up with ways to hold living fire as a payload for her magical missile project. *Or best ways to spread it to ensure a Firestorm. *

*Note to self, when your resident mad scientist obsessed with weapons is thinking your weapon is too deadly-

*"I'm still thinking," the some time mad scientist pouted, "the containment tank or any bomb warhead will function very well as a compressed magic container. *Against zombies, the compressed magic can be used to power an acceleration field to pump the living fire. *That should greatly simplify the nozzle since you don't need to seal the pressurized gas. *Against anything without the disruption aura, the stored magic can be converted to form elemental Water or Fire to further add to the payload. *Liquid Fire in living fire, a synergistic combination that should melt steel given how close living fire is to doing so. *Or burn the power to temporarily enchant the living fire before pumping with disruption magic, so that the stream will burn down even magic based shields, deflection and resist fields being the primary counter of this weapon. *"

*So much for that. *Cato sighed, wondering how she managed to still look so cute chewing her lip while turning an already deadly weapon into something that gave soldiers nightmares. *

*"We will have to ensure that we don't use so much fire in a single battle that we trigger a Firestorm," Curasym added. *

*Everyone present nodded to that. *

*"Or know exactly how much is required to trigger one so that we can turn a losing battle into a draw," he further added. *

*Only Landar nodded this time. *

*The prospect of deliberately triggering a Firestorm on top of your own troops to ensure both sides suffered in your defeat was faintly horrifying. *

*"At least you could use magic to sap the heat from the last few drops in your nozzle to prevent the fire from damaging your equipment. *Maybe a physical seal then acceleration to eject the drops," Landar said, "would even be simple and easy to design for a second trigger for purging the system. *Special payloads will take longer to make stable. *Delay timers in liquids are not very reliable. *"

*Oh, that was a very good idea, except that enchanting living fire tanks that way to store magic laid the groundwork for turning living fire into a weapon designed to kill people better than zombies. *Since magical payloads didn't work on zombies. *

*"Or since the fire burns for minutes," Landar continued, ignoring the looks she was getting. *Cato knew she was slipping into a light episode again but couldn't break through his morbid curiousity to see what she came up with this time. *"Spell cannon delivery should be possible. *Liquid is cohesive enough that it should be possible to constrain it into a single stream with a continuous acceleration field, giving you a flamethrower with better range than any infantry held versions. *I still wouldn't stand in front of it however. *Or place a ceramic barrel of living fire on top of a black powder charge, buried at an angle ideally on a hillside. *Triggered manually with coded magical signals and you have a short range wide area incendiary mine. *With testing, it can form the basis of Curasym's deliberate Firestorm idea without needing suicidal volunteers. *"

*So very many ways to kill indeed. *

*The chancellor and leader of the university looked out onto the field as the next test began, the fire light sending mocking shadows chasing their legs and across the ground. *

[LeSwordfish]

I wrote a battle report last week, which, it turns out, was like 2200 words? So I don't need to dig out the four models I painted and take a picture of them.

[Glass Mouse]

Statusmalatus for the week November 21 - 27!


Glass Mouse passes with a full sheet of expression drawings, and the first of an outer-greatness/inner-inadequacy drawings.

Lycunadari passes with six pretty nature photos.

LeSwordfish passes with 2200 words of battle report.

jseah passes with 1275 words of Hero's War and 460 words of conceptual magic system.

Artman77 uploaded 490 words of nanowrimo.

Icewalker passes with 1500 words of The Three Truths.

Xiander passes with the rest of an entire Nanowrimo novel!!


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Icewalker, and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

Spoiler

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 24 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Lycunadari
Current run: 203 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 25 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 42 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Icewalker
Current run: 8 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 21 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (November 28 - December 4), has not been chosen yet so it is up for grabs.

Next week's theme is chosen by me - let me know in PM or announce it in this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

---

[Icewalker]

The Three Truths continues! (1552)

Spoiler

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“That was-” Devi shook themselves, and tried to formulate the words of the dead language. “That is Eder. You speak?” The traveler, now clutching the pot gently to their chest, stared back. Devi could not tell if the tears staining his face were joy, sorrow, or perhaps both.
“It is my native tongue. But how do you speak it?”
“Please, come, be guest,” Devi stood aside gesturing for the traveler to come in. “Sit, have tea.”
Shamgar opened their mouth but seemed unable to speak. He shut it again, coming inside.
The traveler’s words were slow in coming, red clay vessel still clutched softly in their lap like a child. “I am of Eder. I am the sword of the shepherd, protector of the king and his flock. This blade was given me as a child, my duty, my guardian, and my ward, with which to defend the shepherd of our land.”
“But how...But how are you here, today? The Eder have been gone for a thousand years.”
Shamgar stopped, even small movements fading away. He appeared almost to shrink a few inches, shoulders falling softly. He sat silently, eyes shut.
“You didn’t know.”
Shamgar shook his head. “It has been six years since I awoke in your east. I have been...I have told myself for six years that I just had to find Eder again, that I could return to my home, and do my duty. But I knew. I knew that the world had changed.”
“How? How did you come to be here?”
“Black sorcery, brought by an old foe, king of a rival city to ours. He came upon us with spirit and flame, and with his evil magic bound me into a piece of coal. And there I was trapped, until...until now.”
Franz nervously elbowed the much larger orc. “What is he saying?”
Devi started out of their reverie, translating as best they could for the visiting scholar.
“I have never heard of magic such as this,” Franz mused, “it is unprecedented. Whoever was capable of such a thing must have been most dangerously powerful.”
Devi looked at their new guest. His horned head was bowed, body closed around the simply adorned clay. The first reminder of home he had seen in a thousand years.
“I am going to find a way for you to get back. We are going to send you home.”
There came a light knocking at the door.


Chapter Two
In Which


Devil contemplated for a moment whether or not they had never woke from their afternoon nap, and this was all a dream. Certainly not. This was far too strange to be a dream. Devi Sunjaya stalked to their front door and yanked it open, to find themselves staring into the domain of the loud, angry sun with no visitor in sight.
“Devi!” came the voice. Devi looked down to find Peter Shoehorn standing barely up to their waist at four foot nothing. Their colleague was bone white, and wobbled a little where they stood. “I think I need your help.” Peter glanced past the tall orc to see the other two figures sitting in the room behind, both staring back quizzically. “Oh, hello!” he said faintly, “My name is Peter.” He extended a hand forward, and his body followed with it, collapsing facefirst onto Devi’s doormat. His back was covered in blood, soaking completely through his tattered torn up shirt.
“Sun and Moon, Peter!” Devi easily scooped up the halfling, transporting him onto their bed and quickly tearing off the bloodsoaked shirt to expose injuries. Shamgar stepped up, having already yanked a first aid kit of some sort from their traveling pack. Franz stood back, eyes wide at the sight of blood. Devi stepped aside to let Shamgar bandage the small figure, turning back to their shelves to desperately seek the right bottles. Pulling a tin of pale blue powder and small bottle of clear liquid, Devi mixed the two together in carefully judged proportions, producing a heavy grey salve which they quickly applied over the worst of Peter’s injuries. The small scholar appeared to be stable. Devi sighed. There was blood all over their sheets, now.
Franz fidgeted nervously. “What happened to him?”
Devi shook their head. “I don’t know. Kota Ombak can be a dangerous city, but those injuries look like they came from some kind of animal attack, not a weapon.”
Peter groaned, eyes wavering open. He attempted to sit up, and Devi lightly pushed him back down. “Don’t try to move Peter. What happened?”
“I think there is something in my house, Devi.”
“In your house!? Wait, Peter how did you get here?”
“I walked,” he said faintly.
“From your house? That’s at least a five minute walk from here!” Devi contemplated this for a moment. “And I’m twice your height!”
Peter was already beginning to regain some color. Devi felt a hint of pride at the effectiveness of his alchemical treatment. “I want to find out what’s going on, before whatever it was leaves your house. You two, I...” Devi addressed themselves to Franz. “I would rather you not stay in my home while I leave to see what happened to Peter.”
Franz nodded, “Of course! I would accompany you. If something has attacked a colleague I would like to know what is going on myself.”
Devi blinked at the small and unarmed man, shrugged, and turned to Shamgar, trying to figure out the right words. “Sorry, leave my home, while I go look his home.”
Shamgar nodded. “You leave for a hunt, my friend. It is best not to seek beasts alone.”
Devi lifted their broad bladed sword from where it sat, buckling the weapon onto their belt. Shamgar delicately placed the pot back where it had sat upon the shelf, taking a last look at it before heading out the door.
The noises of the bustling city had been drowned out by Devi’s walls, but outdoors they were abundant and clamorous. Devi made their way quickly in the direction of Peter’s house, travelers following close behind. The old beggar in the alley rattled his cup, as always. He was blind, and could not see the rush of his potential philanthropist. The local youths who ran about the markets could, and stayed out of the tall orc’s way. The alchemist’s market was just a short alley away from Devi’s home. The street vendors loudly pushed their wares, demonstrating chemical and magical phenomena to passers by from their booths in the hopes to catch an excitable eye. Somebody nearby was playing away on a pipe, half drowned in the cacophony of the marketplace.
To Devi, this was just your day to day marketplace. Franz meanwhile exerted great effort to avoid being distracted by the puffs of purple and green smoke rising from this and that alchemist’s stall, barely succeeding at keeping pace with his taller companions’ long strides. Shamgar winced a little at the clamor, as he had on the way in. The only thing that was this loud was the height of battle.
Peter’s house was larger than Devi’s apartment home, but still a fairly humble structure fitting tightly between a pair of other buildings in the city’s Port Quarter. The door was sitting open.
Devi pursed their lips as they approached the door. “Hopefully nobody has gone in to steal.”
“Well it sounds as though they will have something very dangerous to contend with if they try,” Franz panted, trailing slightly behind.
Devi grunted an acknowledgement, falchion in hand as they stepped inside. Peter’s front hall was dusty, well-worn mats trod by many visitors. Devi continued into the house’s front room, a pleasant space with a small kitchen space and many bookshelves. Assorted archaeological figures and finds displayed here and there on shelves and tables. The room was empty. Devi moved to the far wall, noting a small spatter of blood against the white.
Shamgar grunted. “There is no- What is that!?”
Devi’s back erupted with pain. They whirled around, feeling warm blood dripping down their back. The massive spider stood at least four feet tall, with shining chitinous joints and a gangly thin body. Devi took a swing with their blade, the glancing blow scraping off the thing’s white shell.
With a soft grunt of exertion, Franz hefted a small figurine, throwing it towards the thing. It fell about two feet short. Shamgar leapt, crossing the room with one motion, and brought his khopesh down at the spider. The creature vanished, disappearing like writing being erased from a page, and Shamgar’s strike swung through empty air.
“What was that thing?” Shamgar growled in Surrian.
“Ah,” Franz’s voice cracked, “Phase spider.”
The creature stepped out from behind nothing and back into view, leaping at Franz with large jagged mandibles. He dove desperately out of the way, Devi and Shamgar again rushing the creature, which again faded away.
“What do we do?” Devi asked Franz.
“I don’t know!”
They turned to Shamgar, blade in hand and eyes darting around the room. “Ideas?”
“I think it wants to eat Franz.”
“What?”
“He is the smallest one here.”
Devi and Shamgar looked at the human. The two took up positions on either side, weapons readied.
“Uh, what were you saying? What was that about?” Franz repeated in Surrian and Damai.

[Xiander]

Oh boy! I nearly forgot to post my exploits in here. Lets correct that immedeately.
I did 602 words of Marked by Blood after i reached 50000 sunday.
I also wrote 927 words on a new thing, rather spontaneously satuday night.

The story centers on an Oracle, the rest is sort of self explanatory. Without further ado:

Spoiler: The Oracle

Show

They com from the forests and the steppes, from the mountains and the coast. From all over the civilized world, people travel to scale the High Rise and seek my audience.
They come to me for Wisdom, and I give them Truth.


In the morning, I wake when sunbeams fall through the gaps in the roof, hit the white marble tiles and play over the surface of the vision pool. The food will be ready for me when I wake. Fruit and cheese and bread and the meat of birds roasted over a low flame.
I eat, just enough that I don’t feel hungry. There is always a lot left over. Then I wait. Sooner or later the monks will come to see me.
They move silently through the temple, apearing from secret doors, which I don’t know how to find or open. They never come from the gilded gate at the north end of the hall in wich I live.
They always come in threes. Three monks to bring me my food, three to take it away, and three to announce a guest.
I see them only, when they are already close enough to reach me in three quick steps. I recognise them as monks, because of their cloaks. The pale hooded cloaks hide their faces just as their humility hides their fates.
When my food has been taken away, it is only a matter of time, before three monks will appear, to annouce that a guest is awaiting my pleasure.
I know what it means, and I long ago stopped fearing the ritual I must go through, before I see any guest who seeks an audience with the Oracle.
I strip out of my clothes, til I am only wearing the light blue robe, thin and whispery, which I wear under the heavy robes that keep me from the cold, when I do not have guests.
Stripped down, only one layer of cloth from nakedness, I walk to the throne, suspended over the ground by several sturdy chains. I sit down and one of the monks strap me in. Securing first my legs and arms, then finally my head. Then he steps back, letting his two companions take over for the next part.
With the aid of levers and pulleys they do it.
They make the throne ascend the slightest bit, then move horizontally til it is suspended over the vision pool. It is always a shock, when the throne drops abruptly into the pool, dragging me with it into the ice cold water.
I strugle at first, wriggling to get out and struggling to reach the surface and the sweet embrace of air. Then I loose the strength to fight, and I surrender to the cold and the water and the dark.
And then, In the darkness there is a light.
I get up out of the throne, and walk towards the light. And as I come closer to the light I will pass a stranger or a freind or even sometimes an enemy. And I will walk with them for a while and sense, see, hear, feel the paths stretching out in front of them.
Then I will pass them and move closer to the light, but I never reach it. Before I can reach the light, the monks will always pull me out of the vision pool.
I will spit water and gasp for air. Sometimes i will vomit. And the monks will care for me, and see that I am able to breathe and speak.
Then I will be untied and stand up, out of the throne.
My legs slightly wobbly, I will wait for my guest. After an hour at most, they walk through the gilded gates and face me. Often I meet them, still dripping with water, still shivering with cold.
They ask me their qustions and I tell them the truth.
It takes a lot to draw wisdom from the truth, one monk once told me. I was not sure what he meant, but as I thought about it, It occurred to me that not all of my guests will avoid the fate I see for them, even if they desperately want to.
It matters little. I still give them truth.
And that is what I would do for the guest seeking audience that day. Answer his plead for wisdom with a dose of truth.
I had seen the guest, as I walked on the path towards the light. I had seen every guest I ever had, shortly before they came to me.
I stood now, waiting for the guest of the day. Water dripped stakato rytms against the marble floor, cast off my body by the shivering imposed on me by the cold.
An then as I stood there contemplating the paths of my guest, he came. Not from the gilded gates, nor from any of the monk’s passages.
He dropped from the roof, through one of the sun gaps. Landing deftly, he peered around and found me standing, barely dressed and dripping with water.
He stared at me
I stared at him.
Tall and lean he was. Dark hair wound into a long complicated braid snaked down his back. His clothes were dark and subtle, not the golden raiments my guests usually wore. And his eyes, those deep blue eyes caught mine and stared right into my soul.
I had known every guest who ever came to the temple before I ever saw any of them.
But I had never seen this man before.

[LeSwordfish]

This week I wrote 4905 words of Design Document, of which 250 words already existed and I had entered them into a Challenge before, for a total of 4655.

[jseah]

1210 for an unnamed story of a ridiculously overpowered wizard
I always wanted to write a story about a wizard who is more than just a flying fireball launcher.

Spoiler

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The smugglers leapt to their feet as the door to the hideout burst open. The wood splinters flew through the air before suddenly halting and reversing direction to reform into a door just as old and broken as it used to be.
In front of the door was a cloaked figure, features hidden beneath a dark cowl.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded the leader of the band as the men drew knives and raced for their weapons.
The figure didn't react, instead it simply raised a hand, still mostly concealed under the cloak. The three fingers peeking out from the sleeve merely twitched a little but that simple action froze all of them in place.
The leader could only look at the intruder helplessly, not even able to move his eyeballs. It was a wizard, that was obvious, but wizards were obvious. They threw fireballs and cut with blades of solid air, the more powerful could fly and throw down beams of destruction. To simply freeze people in place without even using any ice? He hadn't heard of anything like it before and it shouldn't even be possible! And their band of people smugglers knew all about wizards.
He was in the business of catching and selling them as slaves after all.
The figure seemed to regard him with some curiousity, the head tilting slightly as if listening to something. Then with a lightning swiftness, the hand dart out again and a simple chip of the rocky floor suddenly flew forwards, shattering a very specific medallion hidden under the leader's sleeve.
****. How did the wizard know?! No one else could have sensed the magic negating amulet that had made them so successful. The look on the wizards' faces when their precious magic failed them always warmed his heart. How could he do this when no magic worked around them?! That rock shouldn't have worked and the wizard shouldn't have been able to sense the amulet and they shouldn't have been frozen like that!
It had to be Calamity. The authorities had sent Calamity after them. If it really was him, the leader was sure he could have killed them all whenever he wanted, amulet or no. The legendary wizard was powerful, unstoppable, and mysterious beyond words. How the wizard achieved what he did was beyond the understanding of lesser wizards, much less men like this band of smugglers. Lesser wizards including illustrious people like the archmage of the college.
Still, he could draw some pride. They had become so successful that the bogeyman had turned up to find them. His masters wouldn't be pleased but shortly, it wouldn't be his problem any more. He faced his death with his eyelids stuck open. Darn it, couldn't the wizard let him just blink once before he killed them all?
The wizard continued to look at them. Why weren't they dead yet? He might want to know who their employer was, but there had been no threats of torture, no menacing pain. Not that it would have worked, the oath binding him was-
The oath was gone! The leader's eyes would have bulged if he could move at all. He couldn't feel the pressure on his thoughts any more, he could think of the secrets of the Black Road he had learnt over the years despite a member not being present. The wizard had done it. Broken the unbreakable. Bring it on then, the irons and knives. He just knew that now the obstacle to getting his information was gone, the wizard would begin his torture.
Instead, what happened was worse than any knives.
The world seemed to spin around him, a memory dredged up and dragged into the light. An image hung in the air, still connected to the leader's forehead. It was a woman, one of the younger wizards in training they had kidnapped three weeks ago. A less than successful attempt, judging by the sniff in the man in black robes' derisive sniff. Damaged goods, he had said. The leader had hated him for it, the woman had cost them dearly to obtain. And somehow, despite not having shown it in his memory, the leader knew that his feelings and thoughts at the time were laid bare to the wizard.
On the screen, the meeting with the Black Road continued to play, the captured woman's head exploding across the ground and the black robe proceeded to the next slave.
The memory ended and another began. Another victim, another slave, another contact with the Black Road. Still frozen and utterly unable to resist, the wizard dragged out his memories one by one. And when he had finished every last one of the hundreds of slaves they had sold, the wizard proceeded to the next member of the team, displaying their crimes for him.
It was terrifying. All his strength, all his determination not to give this arrogant wizard any information even under torture, it was all useless. He just stood there helplessly, railing and ranting in his mind. He threw his anger, his frustration and sheer spite at the stuck up fool against the magic. He might as well have been trying to hold back the sea with a sandcastle.
Then when all their crimes had been revealed by the wizard, hours later, he turned to look at them and uttered a single word.
"Guilty. "
The pronouncement brought the leader some relief. At least now the wizard would kill them for their crimes. He certainly deserved it.
Wait, that wasn't right. The leader looked around and jerked abruptly as he realized that whatever force was holding him had been released. But no, that wasn't what was important.
That thought, the guilt of selling the slaves. That was something that had been burned out of him after his fifth, a little girl that had gone for some extra coin. He hadn't felt that in years.
"You will no longer be evil. "
The wizard's statement was as dry as leaves in autumn. A statement of foregone fact, a law of reality.
And the man, no longer a leader of smugglers, looked back in horror. And he knew that he could no longer continue.
Worse than any geas or oath or compulsion. The wizard had reached into his mind and changed him. There was nothing preventing him from going out and kidnapping slaves again, nothing but the simple fact that he was different now. A 'good' person. He no longer believed that his strength gave him the right, no longer sought glee in his victims' shock and despair. There was no spell to break, no binding to reverse, his soul had changed and any power that could change him back could just as easily change him into something else yet again.
It was frightening beyond imagining.
The wizard turned around and left through their door again, shattering it by walking through and repairing the wood behind him again.
They stood there in absolute silence for a handful of heartbeats.
"What in the world just happened?" one of the men asked.
The leader kept staring at the door. None of them had any answers.

643 words for Hero's War

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The shift leader waved her hands as the steel cables finished spooling out, the clear thunk from the steel frame echoing across the grounds. The owner of the Ironworkers Company looked down expressionlessly from his perch above the dismantled forge.
"We have reached required depth!"
The cables ceased their rattling as the drill ground to a stop. The flow of water going down the pipe did not halt however, the rock chunks at the bottom of the well required more time to be flushed out. A few hours later, the final piece of the steel lining would be inserted into the well.
Similar scenes played out across the countryside. The new drill head allowed the thin wells for the magic density pumps to be sunk through bedrock, and with advancements in the efficiency of the enchantments, the wells only had to be sunk to a depth of three hundred meters to be viable sources. All in all, the reduction in cost had made it profitable to start covering the countryside with a grid of mana pumps.
Placed too closely, the pumps reduced the power of each individual well. Two pumps next to each other yielded less than twice the amount of additional power. This led to a complicated balancing act between the depth and diameter of the well, spacing of the wells and the cost of laying the piping. Plus expected demand and other varying costs.
Cato and the other Recordkeepers working in the University had done some figuring and had drawn up a grid of pump sites through and around the city, dense and small deep bores in the city, sparse and large shallow bores in the outskirts. Now drill heads were being built and rushed into action, sometimes on the same day the assembly was complete.
Willio nodded as the last of the smallest diameter and deepest wells finished drilling. The drill head was emerging now and the front blades would be replaced before moving on to the next well.
Above all other priorities, the Ironworkers Company had been pouring steel for the drills and pump piping for the last two months. Virtually all other construction had halted for the lack of steel while the great drilling projects were rushed forwards under the authority of Minmay. The sheer amount of steel demanded by the project was choking out most other businesses, which had to delay their own activities for a lack of material and even reject orders in extreme cases.
Needless to say, the Ironworkers received the first set of mana pumps. The shutdown period for his forges, to drill pumps right below the two hills occupied by the Ironworkers, was painful to contemplate. But the cost would be worth it, magic would power all activity in the future. It was going to be as ubiquitous as electricity in Cato's world. So it was only good business to have the steel producer expanded first to meet the future demand. Steel was the bones of the economy after all, and magic its blood.
One mana pump in the city would only yield just under a tenth of the power of the Borehole project. But Minmay city planned to have over two thousand once the first phase of drilling was complete, and it was never going to be a finished project. There would always be a well being deepened or broadened, and new wells being sunk throughout the countryside.
The sheer amount of power was unimaginable.
To think of the industry! The great bellows, blasts of heat! Towers spewing fire into the sky! All made possible by the magic that came from beneath the ground. It would a glorious age to come, one to match even the First. And he would live to see it come.
Willio watched the winch raise the drill head from its rocky tomb and smiled to himself.

[Glass Mouse]

Very late status for the week November 28 - December 4! Sorry about that.


Glass Mouse passes with roughly twelve character sketches.

Lycunadari passes with three elf drawings and three winter photos.

LeSwordfish passes with 4655 words of game Design Document.

jseah passes with 1210 of wizard story, and 643 words of Hero's War.

Artman77 did not upload/send me anything.

Icewalker passes with 1552 words of The Three Truths.

Xiander passes with 602 words of Marked by Blood, and 927 words of Oracle story.


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Icewalker, and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 25 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Lycunadari
Current run: 204 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 26 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 43 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Icewalker
Current run: 9 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 22 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

It is too late to choose this week's theme (December 5 - 11).

Instead, I'll already choose next week's theme as Awkward family moments. 'tis the season for a lot of inspiration for that one.

[Icewalker]

My campaign is running so far ahead of my prose! I need to catch up and then go back to Reliquary to do my additional writing and start edits.

Spoiler: The Three Truths

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The air was still in the small living room. With a faint rippling of wind, the creature emerged to reach down from the ceiling, taking another snap at Franz’s head. It was interrupted by an onrushing bulk of sharpened steel and orc muscle slamming into the creature’s side, sending it tumbling off the ceiling and across the room, trailing spatters of white blood. Shamgar sprung across the room and with two more quick strokes clove the spider’s body in half. It stopped twitching shortly after.
Franz stood stiff as a board. “Oh.”
Devi moved to inspect the corpse, stumbling slightly as the room began to turn. Devi paused to contemplate their own knees. Didn’t they usually have more bones than this? One leg abruptly gave out, and Devi realized that the wounds in their back were not hurting at all.
Venom.
Peter.
Devi pushed themselves to their feet, forcing stability back into their legs, calling on memories of learning to fight standing in the sand of the desert. “Poison...I need to see if Peter is,” Devi trailed off into gestures, before running out back towards home with Shamgar in close pursuit, and Franz trailing behind.
Devi fumbled for several moments with their door key, which slipped out of tingling fingers. Shamgar scooped it off the ground and quickly opened the door.
“Hello Devi,” Peter said weakly from the bed. “Welcome back. I think I got blood on your bed. I’m sorry.”

Franz Herog rolled out his shoulders, gently replacing the small statue back on the shelf where he had grabbed it from. It was thankfully undamaged from the throw. He glanced out the door: the others were already gone, rushing back to check on Peter. Hopefully the small fellow was okay. The Surrian man crouched over the body of the phase spider, getting a closer look. It was small compared to the last one he had seen. Due to the species’ penchant for passing in and out of the realm of spirits, it was impossible to determine how it had gotten into the house. How convenient.
It was time to follow Devi and Shamgar. If he waited any longer his slow return could not be blamed on a poor constitution for running.

Chapter Three
In which Peter Shoehorn Continues to Have Problems


Devi took a long draught from their cup of tea. The wounds on their back were rough and would leave scars, but they were not deep. Shamgar knew his first aid well, and combined with Devi’s own healing salves and some antitoxin tea the injuries would be well on the way to recovery within just a couple of days. “So you are Eder.”
“I am.”
Devi spent several minutes looking at the figure sitting across the firepit. This explained so much of Eder iconography and design.
“Did your people herd goats?”
Shamgar blinked, clearly confused. “Sheep.”
Devi struck themselves on the forehead. “Of course you did. But we thought, because of the horns we found...”
Shamgar had taken the beaten metal piece of armor, turning it over in his hands.
“What is it?” Devi asked.
“A helm. Half of one.” He held it up to the back of his head, the odd curves of the metal fitting obviously into place, spacing just right around the curling horns. “There is no faceplate.” Shamgar placed it back in his lap. “It has been a long time since I saw my peoples’ armor. It was not until I awoke here that I truly realized how little I knew. I was no smith, and I do not know the design. Even the Schwertknecht Vierte Kompanie who I awoke among could not remake it as it was.”
“You traveled with the Schvr...With the dwarven mercenaries of the east?”
Shamgar nodded. “I awoke when they burned the coal I was sealed within. I crawled from their forge whilst they were afield campaigning. It was quite a strange day for all of us. Vierte Kompanie took me in.”
“Oh!” Peter sat up in Devi’s bed. “Devi! I nearly forgot about that piece in all of the excitement.”
“Where did you get it, Peter?”
“I found a new dig site!”
Devi stared. “What? A new Eder site? It’s been years since we found anything, how did you come upon it?”
“I acquired a map. It’s north, just south of the Whispering Place, it looks to be another military outpost-”
“Peter, where did you get the map from?”
“Ah, well,” Peter mumbled something, voice picking up again on the other side, “but I spent just a short time there on a preliminary dig because we were so close with the caravan on its way back from Beristirahat and-”
“Peter.”
More mumbling. Devi crossed their arms and raised eyebrows.
“...A mirage gave it to me.”
“What.”
“But it was real! I went, and it’s a real site, you see!”
“No. No this is ridiculous.”
“I know! I know. It’s true though! She gave me the map and I also thought it was crazy but it was so close so I took the extra side trip to check and we found that and also a few old blades I think it’s another Eder military outpost like site 2.”
“Well there’s clearly something there,” Franz chimed in.
“Uh-huh. Look Franz, you don’t know the mirages here in the Pasir. These things can be dangerous. People get turned around until they die of thirst, or get dragged off by desert spirits and forced into their service.” Devi sighed, rubbing their temples. “But, that thing is real, and we haven’t had a new dig site in years.”
Peter grinned broadly.
“Let’s take a look at that map. See what kind of expedition we might be able to put together.”
“Of course!” Peter’s grin diminished significantly “Oh. Oh no.”
Devi felt their stomach sink. “Where is the map, Peter.”
“It’s in my traveling case.”
“And where is your traveling case.”
“I...think I left it in the cart with the merchant company I was traveling with. I only got back three days ago! Maybe we can still catch them before they set out again...”

Devi knocked on the door of the Six Winds Merchant Company. “Please, come in!”
The room inside was not small, but it was certainly too small for its purpose. Three offices worth of desks and shelves were crammed into the room. One woman was rooting through a bookshelf, and a middle aged orc was sitting behind the desk at the back of the room, his hands rubbing his temples. His desk was clean, but not for lack of trying: the cabinets and folders around his workspace were all disorganized messes. He waved the three visitors over. “Name’s Nuran. What brings you to-” he paused mid-sentence, eyes alighting on the strange figure of Shamgar. “Uh. What...what do you need? We can’t take any new business right now.”
Devi shook the offered hand, which had been momentarily forgotten by its owner and was hanging unattended across the desk. “Devi Sunjaya. We aren’t here for business: a friend of mine, Peter Shoehorn, said he traveled with you recently?”
Nuran snorted. “I’m just the office man for Kota Ombak, but uh yeah. I heard a few stories about him from the caravan. Why?”
“He says he left his case behind, we were hoping to retrieve it for him.”
Nuran’s smile faltered, and when it resumed there was something forced in the expression. “He leave it with the carts in the warehouse?”
“I assume so. Let me guess, the caravan has already left?”
“Well. No. No it’s still there.”
Devi frowned. “Then what’s the problem?”
“Well, um…”
“Spit it out, man. I’ve had a long day.”
“Nobody’s going in there. We heard some strange sounds coming from our warehouse basement where we stored the goods from the cart, and Wejan went down with his hound to take a look, and…”
“What did they find?”
“He never came back up. It has been two days. Nobody else is willing to go.”
“Ugh. Okay,” Devi looked over at Shamgar and Franz. “We’ll go look and get our case. But if there is anything down there and we solve your stupid problem, you’re paying us for the trouble.”
Nuran nodded. “Yes, yes that is fair. How much do you want?”
“Ten weights of silver.”
“Seven.”
“Eight.”
“Okay, I can do eight. Here,” he passed a key across the desk. “It is down the road, there is a Six Winds Company sign on the building.”
Devi snatched the keys, attempting to leave the building before their headache could catch up. Franz jogged after, translating the conversation that had just occurred for Shamgar.
The storehouse was very small, with a single ground floor room with a few boxes and several carts. At the back of the room a hatch led down into the building’s basement. Devi drew his falchion, and Shamgar followed suit with his blade. Franz raised a hand. “I’m not carrying a weapon.”
“Here,” Devi pulled a small torch from a bracket on the back wall and tossed it to Franz. “Go in the middle, it’ll be dark down there.”

[Xiander]

I did 1549 words of Marked by blood, which I have sent to you Glass mouse.

[jseah]

784 for Hero's War

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Landar eyed the ball of magic hanging in the air.
The streams of power flickered away from the edges, escaping into the air. Compressed magic was fickle and hard to contain, only solid walls of magical barriers could do it and even then, the compressed magic exerted pressure on the walls in order to escape. So in order to create a stable storage of power, enchanted walls of steel were used. That was the current understanding.
The problem was that steel could only take so much pressure. The current high density record was held by a container with a thirty centimeter thick hardened steel box. It was ludicrously expensive and contained an entire ritual summon's worth of power into a cup sized volume. Plus another ritual summon's worth of magical energy on top of that. Nothing interesting had happened. Cato had been working on that project and they eventually concluded that it was too expensive to use as a power storage battery.
So Landar was now spending her free research time on trying to invent a way to contain magical density without physical materials. Steel could only get so hard, magic could do much more than mere steel.
But any magic higher than ambient density would leak through her spell boundary on the inside of the hollow sphere into her spell. And a spell with higher power would proceed to leak it into the environment faster. So any attempt to contain magic density with free standing spells didn't meet pressure problems but instead leaked power faster normal spells did.
She tweaked the shape of the magical barrier again and sighed as the bubble popped and the contained magic dispersed into the air.
That said, there were uses for spells that could carry a higher density power source inside them, provided the leaking problem could be controlled sufficiently. Normal high power spells suffered badly from the continuous drain, Landar was certain contained magic density could do better.
She would have to work on it to make the spell feasible. Alchemy constructs were slightly different than free standing spells after all and the magic density to power conversion didn't work as well as she hoped. Still, it was a solvable problem and once that was done...
Landar looked up at the blackness outside the window of the test lab.
Ah.
She sighed as her stomach rumbled again. Cato was going to get so mad again, after she promised to watch her health. But it was so difficult to remember that when the ideas started flowing.
Maybe she could make an alarm clock with magic. Magic powered clocks were already-
No! No distracting herself from food. She put down the pencil forcefully, half a design for a magic circle to make time triggered alarms drawn in the sheets of paper.
The alchemist got up from her designing table and stretched out the kinks in her limbs. The pops and cracks did not sound good, but food did sound good. The cafeteria cooks might have saved something for her. Landar strolled out of her workshop, tossing her wandering hair back across her shoulder.

"So you finally deign to talk to me?"
The raspy voice came from a middle aged man, sitting on the hard bed in his cell. A familiar man, an opponent she had defeated once before.
"Tukor, or do you prefer Light's Edge?" Landar said, siting on her stool placed well away from the bars. The two of the Guard standing beside the cell had firebolt launchers, and enough power to ash them all twice over.
"I am at your mercy, call me whatever you wish," the Em master chuckled, "let me guess, you are unable to understand my sword and so have come to me for answers. "
"I have not even tried," the alchemist shrugged, "I recognize that sword you have, the Iris family has three and the Zanzi family has one. An old Tsarian weapon that no one remembers how to use. Older and simpler than the summoning stones, but still beyond our ability. "
The man clutched his chest, a twisted smile on his face, "alas, my secrets are not as unique as I thought. You have sheathed more swords than mine, lady?"
Landar and the two soldiers just stared at him.
"Tsk. Can a man not joke after having someone to talk with after months behind bars?" Tukor dropped his grin, "you suck all the fun out of life. What do you want?"
Landar kept her stony face. "We want to understand how you use the sword. We want to analyze how the attack works. We want you to teach how to use the other three we have. "

1244 for an unnamed story
Has odd mood whiplash at the end, despite the tone of the start, this is essentially the seed for a very strange romcom

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Nick crept into the room.
Right in the center, in the middle of air, hung a flat square plane. There was nothing holding it up, no frame bordering it. Nothing.
Just a single square pane hanging motionless in the air. So perfectly did it reflect the stone walls that it appeared more like a gateway into another room, rather than a reflection. Only because Nick knew what it would appear like and his own reflection was in it that he could even recognize it at all.
As he had seen on the stone, on the walls around him, he touched a hand to the mirror.
Immediately, the 'reflection' changed. A view from high above a port city, wooden buildings and streets curving around the rise and fall of the land. A very familiar and nostalgic place. Ah, this was the view from Ren Hill, from his childhood when she had still been alive.
Poor Aleate, why did she have to die in that fire. In the catastrophe that...
The city in the mirror was burning, just like he remembered seeing. Only now, it wasn't showing what he remembered. He had run towards the city, knowing that he wouldn't make it in time. But this view remained on the hill.
No, there was no time for this. He was so close. Nick concentrated on his last happy memory, the day before the fire. He was eating breakfast, ready to go on a two day tour of duty to the countryside. Aleate... had made golden brown fried eggs, with bread and butter. His favourite way to start the day.
Aleate appeared in the mirror, as if he was back there, sitting across the table from her. The gentle smile...
No! His memories was not what he wanted! He wanted her back! Here! He could not afford to be distracted.
Nick summoned what little magic he had learnt from the old master of the College. Three years was not sufficient training, but Nick had more determination than anyone else in the world. Ever since he learnt of the Mirrorweld, there could have been only one answer. One way he could right the wrong the world had inflicted on him.
"Tiler ui erasans," Nick recited carefully. The long feverish hours of studying the ancient languages of Nor, trying to correct his intonation, paid off.
The image in the mirror froze, on the morning of disaster. There was a thump from behind the mirror and the image started playing again.
Nick clenched his teeth and doubled over. Part of his magic had been torn from him, like a piece of his soul disappearing forever. It didn't feel like he was going to get that back. Gasping, he looked around the side of the mirror.
The woman lying on the ground on the other side was everything like he had remembered. She was even wearing the same clothing she had worn on the day, down to the bit of oil staining the hem of her sleeve and the smell of breakfast. Sprawled on the floor, Aleate looked like she had simply been sleeping, her chest rising and falling gently.
Tears sprang into his eyes. It had worked! Despite everything, despite all his hardship, he had finally gotten her back! So what if it was at the cost of mere magic? That was nothing next to Aleate.
"Aleate," he said gently, tapping her on the cheek. She didn't respond.
Nick frowned and took her pulse. Normal. Magic? Normal. Feeling a pit open in his stomach, Nick cast a first aid spell. He had to do it twice, forcibly stilling his shaking hands.
Nothing. She continued to sleep.
No. No! Not when he was so close! How could this happen! Was that only a body? Without her mind?
Nick whirled back to the mirror, which had reverted to the image of the room, and grabbed it with both hands. NO! He would not stand for this!
The images swirled crazily, flicking between images of fire, of people dying and of a certain girl fishing in the river. Ah, the fishing expedition. The point where they had first realized they were in love.
Why?! He had come so far, and all the mirror could do was show him images and give him an empty body.
"Why... give her back..." he muttered. Clenching his hands around the mirror, Nick whispered, "Tiler ui erasans," not caring about the cost, the flaying of his meager magic was nothing compared the pain of a three year old wound ripped open. Of a dying hope.
The girl in the image fell out the back of the mirror. Nick stroked her face, sniffling back his tears. As cute as she ever was five years ago. And just as asleep as the woman beside her.
She didn't wake either.
Nick went back to the mirror. At least he could end this here, with the memories in the mirror to take him to wherever Aleate was now. Just sacrifice all his magic and die.
The children laughing and playing in the grassy meadow soundlessly was like a time long long ago. When they had played without a care in the world. Without responsibilities, without even a hint of romance. Just two innocent children chasing each other in some child's game that he couldn't even remember.
He smiled grimly at the memory, finally he could go. "Tiler ui erasans. " Thump.
With a cry, Nick slumped to the floor. His whole body felt like it was on fire. The pain was worse than he imagined but not more than he inflicted on himself.
Still not dead. Nick sucked in a ragged breath, willing himself to get up for the last time, not even checking the state of the child's body. It would just be the same after all.
His legs refused to support him, try as he might. Nick extended a hand but he was too short by a few inches.
Ah, so he was denied even a clean death. "WHY!" he screamed. Why wouldn't the world just let him die already!
The woman coughed a little and stirred.
What. Nick stared at her fallen form. She just moved. Gripped by a sudden urgency, Nick dragged himself across the stone floor.
"Wake up," he shook her shoulder. "Wake up!!" He gripped her tighter and shook hard.
Her eyes flew open in shock. "Wa!" she jerked a little. "Oh sorry, I fell asl-" Aleate's words died as she saw the tears dripping down his face, "what happened?... And... where... what...."
She finally realized that they weren't in their house.
Nick hugged her tightly. That didn't matter. It all didn't matter. She was back. It had worked after all. Aleate hugged him back uncertainly. Well, to her, she was just sitting down to eat. She had no idea.
"Uee, what's so noisy..?"
They froze.
"Um? Did I doze off- eh?" the teenaged girl muttered and rubbed her eyes as she sat up. Then she looked around and caught sight of them. She seemed about to say something but her mouth just opened and closed without any words.
With a certain trepidation, Nick looked over to the mirror where the body of a child had been lying there. She was curled up on the stone, blinking at them slowly. A slight frown of confusion on her forehead.
Oh...
This could get complicated.

[LeSwordfish]

I finished off that Design Document for a total of 6924 words, of which 2019 words were new.

[Glass Mouse]

Statuuuuuuus for the week December 5 - 11!


Glass Mouse passes with nine character drawings.

Lycunadari passes with six pretty photos.

LeSwordfish passes with 2019 words of design document.

jseah passes with 784 words of Hero's War, and 1244 words of weird romcom.

Artman77 did not upload/send me anything.

Icewalker passes with 1593 words of The Three Truths.

Xiander passes with 1549 words of Marked by Blood.


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Icewalker, and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 26 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Lycunadari
Current run: 205 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 27 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 44 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Icewalker
Current run: 10 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 23 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (December 12 - 18), chosen by me, is Awkward Family Moments.

Next week's theme is chosen by LeSwordfish - let me know in PM or announce it in this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

[Icewalker]

1580 of moar desert adventures, featuring a disturbing basement and some hired mercenaries.

Spoiler: The Three Truths

Show

Devi opened the hatch, the movement of air making a faint rushing noise. The smell arrived immediately, and Devi’s frown deepened. Blood. Swords and torch in hand, the three made their way down the ladder.
The darkness below seemed to burn away like thick fog before the torch, slowly retreating into the corners where it stuck, shadows flickering this way and that as if an audience watched them from the walls.
The body of the dog lay on its back in the center of the room in a half dried pool of blood. Shamgar snorted at the stench, moving forward to take a closer look. Franz followed closely behind Devi. There was no sign of the person who had been sent before, and little room in the cramped basement space. A pile of linens and blankets had been jammed together in one corner of the room. Something glinted from within the pile, and Franz held out the torch to illuminate pieces of broken glass scattered into the cloth. Small red dots stained the fabric in many places.
“This is not normal,” Shamgar stated firmly, speaking in Surrian.
“What happened to it?” Franz spotted curled white slivers of material on the basement floor near the fabric. Nail clippings? No, they were something else.
“This dog was not so much killed as it was...I do not know. Disassembled. Everything is still attached.”
Devi grabbed Peter’s case from where it sat unattended among the other goods. “Okay, we’re gone.”
“But what about-”
“Don’t care. That is not normal. Leaving. Bye.”
The shadows, or possibly something else, flickered at the edges of Franz’s vision. “Yeah right behind you.”

After returning to the Six Winds offices to give back one key and one refusal to accept payment or have any further involvement in whatever was going on down there, Devi pulled out the map from Peter’s case on the way back home. The page was ink on vellum, and definitely not Peter’s work. Devi had seen his maps before, and this was drawn by somebody else. The markings were unusual: there was no writing, simply a broad map of the Pasir, showing only major geographical features. One small spot about a week’s travel north was marked with the traditional mapmaker’s sign for ruins.
And who used vellum? Paper was cheaper and better, here in the Pasir. Devi unburied their nose from the map to unlock their door.
“Peter, where did you get this map?”
“Oh you found it! Wonderful! No problems, I hope? The Six Winds were quite polite and easy to work with I thought.”
Devi grunted. “Where did you get this from? You didn’t draw it yourself, clearly.”
“Ah, well,” Peter mumbled something, voice picking up again on the other side, “but I spent just a short time there on a preliminary dig because we were so close with the caravan on its way back from Beristirahat and-”
“Peter.”
More mumbling. Devi crossed their arms and raised eyebrows, waiting.
“...A mirage gave it to me.”
“What.”
“But it was real! I went, and it’s a real site, you see!”
“No. No this is absurd.”
“I know! I know. It’s true though! She gave me the map and I also thought it was crazy but it was so close so I took the extra side trip to check and we found that and also a few old blades and it’s clearly a quite large undisturbed site and I think there is lots more to be found there.”
“Well there’s clearly something there,” Franz chimed in.
“Uh-huh. Look Franz, you don’t know the mirages here in the Pasir. These things can be dangerous. People get turned around until they die of thirst, or get dragged off by desert spirits and forced to dance themselves to death, or whatever else suits the spirit’s horrible desires at the time.” Devi sighed, rubbing their temples. “But. That helm piece is real. And we haven’t had a new dig site in years.”
Peter grinned broadly.
“Okay. Okay. I guess we’re doing this. I’ll go try to talk to the Utana Family, see if they’ll help finance another expedition. Do you have any more savings you could put in?”
Peter nodded. Franz raised a hand, “I have some funds for travel I can contribute as well.”
“The trio were back in the city, last I checked,” Peter added.”
Devi nodded, “That’ll be good, no need to hire untested help.”
Shamgar looked back and forth through the conversation taking place in Damai. “Does this mean we are going?”
“Yes, we are. Will you come with us? We could use your knowledge. But I know it may be hard to see what is left of your people.”
Shamgar shook his head, hair flying side to side. “I wish to go. I have not seen anything of them in a long, long time. Even sad memories will be welcome.”

Chapter Four
In which

“Dead?”
“That’s what they told me.”
“Geez,” Peter scratched his head, sitting in the front of the cart. “What happened?”
Devi adjusted their seat on the camel. “I honestly didn’t press. I was on shaky enough ground with the Matan Family anyway, Ehwas was the only one there who really cared about patronage for our work. If he’s gone, we probably won’t be seeing any money from them again.”
“He was a good kid.”
“I guess. Didn’t care a lick for the actual work. It just made him feel special to give money to something highbrow and philanthropic.”
“Come Devi, don’t be hard on the dead.”
Devi shrugged.
“What about the Utana?”
Devi sighed. “I shouldn’t have brought up Shamgar. Cahya Utana thought I was lying when I started on about it all. Guess it is a pretty unbelievable story. At least I wasn’t thrown out by her grandmother, or I’d never get into the Garden Quarter again. We can probably still sell them any good display-quality finds we recover, maybe recoup some of the expedition costs when we return.”
Franz adjusted his robes again, sweltering under the open desert sun. “So, Shamgar. Not used to camels?”
“I am used to walking on hooves,” Shamgar grumbled, “But usually they are mine! Do these things even have proper hooves? Bah. But what about you? You are not used to the heat, no?”
Franz gave the sun a pointed (but quick) look, and adjusted his headcloth. It uncoiled in his hands, unwrapping into a limp pile of cloth for the fifth time. “No. No I am not.”
Shamgar laughed, a deep sound that carried across the sand. “I was always cold in Koro-Sur. Even when the sun was not hiding in the fog it was pale compared to my old home.”
“So you’re more used to this kind of heat, huh?”
“Well,” Shamgar shaded his eyes, looking out over the endless sand. “I came from a place of stones, dust, and rivers. We had soil as well as sand, and the land was not quite so cruel to us as this. And you? From your name I think you are from near Stahlheim, in the north, no?”
Franz nodded, “I am. Dalstead, a small town near the northern border of the homeland, right at the foot of the mountains.”
“I know it! In my days with the Schwertknecht we often passed through that area, Dul Tam and her inn was always a welcoming sight after days on the road.
Franz blinked. “You don’t say? I left when I was pretty young, at the first chance I got really. Glad to hear Dul Tam is well.”
“What led you to learn Damai, and seek the Eder?”
Franz shrugged, waving the question off. “Oh, since I was young I’ve always read a lot of books, history especially, and Devi’s paper was very interesting. Honestly my life has been little more than a series of libraries, and I cannot say I have any complaints. But tell me about you, what was it like traveling with the best mercenaries in the East? Even I know tales of the Schwertknecht Fourth Company.”
“Cold! Cold, wet and miserable. I was used to life in the palace, back home. The Company taught me how to survive on the road. But they did not range widely enough, and in time I knew I had to broaden my search if I was ever to find my home again.”
“It seems you are making progress.”
“It does. And it is certainly nice to be out of the rain.”
The russet skinned young orc standing atop the next dune waved as she walked back towards the rest of the travelers. “No signs of storm or other trouble on the horizon.”
Peter waved back, not looking up from the sextant he was fiddling with. “Thanks Raj.”
“Boring,” noted Kawan. Their twin brother Kawal socked them in the shoulder.
“Yeah yeah, roll the dice, it’s your turn and I’m winning.”
Kawan tossed the glass dice. Kawal’s grin broadened as he swept a handful of beads onto his side of the cart.
“Ah! Sun leech the water from your stupid eyes. You’re just winning because you made the dice and you’ve cheated them.” Kawan pulled their straight long-bladed knife and poked towards their brother. “Draw your knife, double or nothing, first to three cuts as Daragat wills it.”
“No ritual fighting until we set up camp for midday,” Devi called back to the twins, “Daragat’s will can wait.”
“Okay boss.”
“Um, Raj,” Franz muttered, “Could you help me re-wrap my headcloth?”

[Xiander]

I send you 1990 words Glass Mouse. Marked by blood is getting longer and better by the day :)

[jseah]

3.5k for Hero's War. All the Duport sections of the new chapter are it.

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3238329/100/A-Hero-s-War

[LeSwordfish]

This week I managed to crank out 9350 words of guide to Chaos Space Marines. I should have been doing coursework, goddamn it.