Hello 2016!

Hello 2016!

So I have had this up for a couple weeks now and have learned a little bit. When I first wanted to start blogging, I didn't truly have a plan in place for any specific goals. I didn't have goals. I just wanted to write and since I didn't have any other means of getting material out there for feedback, this was going to be my outlet.

So I started posting.

And it was fun! I was having fun writing and I was having fun watching the number of visitors climb in the analytics. But I wanted to work on something with a little bit more umph to it, so to speak, and felt like I was kind of obligated to continue to post something new instead of working on what I really wanted to work on.

Well it took about two days of feeling like that before I was going to quickly make a change. This blog was and is still in its infancy and if I am already feeling obligated in the first two weeks, I must have set it up poorly.

Moving forward: I changed the name to something that didn't have time constraints on it or expectations. I will still be writing daily. I just won't be posting an entirely new short daily. However, with this change will allow me to post (hopefully) longer, almost chapters when I post. Also, it will let me work on my first novel, which is the whole point to these writing exercises.

So hello 2016! I am already excited for the new year and have focused on my goals like a laser.

Cody 

Grindstone

So I am going to cheat today...

This is a brief character intro for a Pathfinder (Way of the Wicked) game I wrote up. To lessen the in media res a bit, our characters had done something terrible and had been captured and taken to a high security prison.

My half-orc Grindstone was not convinced what he had done was even wrong...

This style was fun to write. Happy reading!




These men are pathetic. Their bindings cannot hold me. And they know it. They fear it. I can smell it on them. Pathetic. For three nights I have heard them whisper to each other. Ha. They are so scared of revealing their fears to me, they choose to whisper to one another, as if the thought to break free to choke the life out of them wasn’t the only thing keeping me going. I may be the one behind the bars but it is they who are prisoner here. They are pathetic and weak and fearful for their own worthless little lives, sitting on edge as though any moment I will come charging through this cage and rip them in half. They probably would piss themselves at the sight of a charging boar. I bet they’ve never even been close enough to one to stab at with a spear. Their idea of hunting is hiding in the tree, safe from any tusks, ready to ambush their kill with arrows. Pathetic.

Hiding in a tree with arrows against a tusked piglett is exactly what they would do. Too scared to confront the beast head on.

That’s the only reason they got me; Magagark Grindstone, their tusked beast. They laid in wait, hiding on the road. A dozen men they had, and still they hid. Too afraid to face me with a spear. Their pitiful commander, Jessenth, not even willing to come face to face with me until I was in chains. No honor in that man. How his men could follow such a weakling, I do not know. I still remember how shocked he looked when he gave the charges against me. Dueling to the death, like it is some sort of crime. Why would I lie about such a thing? I had brought a swift clean death to that knight. At least he had chosen to meet his end with dignity. And I am the one who gave it to him. When his warm blood splattered against my face, I felt pride, as I should have, that I sent that boy to the afterlife with a warrior’s death.

But these men don’t deserve the same glory. No. If I get the chance before the headsman claims me, I will not give them that pleasure.

I will choke the life out of each of them, staring into their eyes as each one fades from this world.

….and I will become the tusked beast they so fear.

Jerrit : pt3

Continued from Jerrit : pt2

He began immediately, drawing a wide circular glyph around the dwarven princess. He knew the symbols by heart, not glancing back at the book's notes once during the preparation.

"Here are the silver pieces." Came a voice behind him. "They were commissioned during Tradral the Wise's reign, so you will not find purer on Esolis."

"And here are the candles." Said the second dwarven cleric.

Jerrit continued his work without acknowledging either. The glyph had to be precise, and he was too obsessive to let them interrupt him. After a few moments, he stood up and studied his work, circling several times searching for imperfections.

Finally satisfied, he looked up at the women.

"Yes, the candles." he said reaching out.

"And the silver," added the first, clearly agitated.

With the final pieces he needed in hand, he went back to his bag and took out a simple wooden bowl and a small vial filled with a black powder. He knelt down at the front of the crib and began to place them in a smaller circular glyph. With all four candles surrounding the bowl he slid the coins in followed by the black powder. He stood back up and went to his bag for the last item. He withdrew another small vial, but this time a thick red liquid was held within, dove blood-- Koralenae's most blessed animal.

He was suddenly aware of just how completely silent the room had become. He could almost hear his own heart beating. No one had dared to interrupt his work, and even King Torgrum seemed to be holding his breathe. Out of awe or for the fear of what failure might mean for his daughter, Jerrit wasn't sure.

Still he stood up with the vial in hand and looked at the gathering.

"My great King, the healing ritual I am about to perform will no doubt be a great feat. One in fact, that may very well be recorded in Brindlethron's history books for future generations of dwarves to read about in their studies one day. I will need absolute silence." Jerrit's words echoed through the bedchamber.

He turned to the girl. It was time.

He focused his mind and began aloud.

"I, Jerrit, your chosen, seek your healing grace mighty Koralenae, our Eternal Mother, Bearer of the Healing Light, Purger of Plagues, The Compassionate Goddess, and Savior to the Sick. Grant me the strength to drive out this sickness from this girl, who has done nothing to deserve this foul fate."

White light began to emanate from the glyphs. Seeing this, he continued.

"Grant me the strength to mend her small body and heal her cracked lips. Grant me the strength to give her father back her laugh, and to purge this plague."

He stepped up with the red vial in hand and, holding his arm straight out, he started to pour the blood into the mixture of coins and powder. Immediately they started to bubble and fizz, reacting violently.

"Grant me your power Koralenae so that all in Brindlethron may know of your healing light!"

The coins began to melt and fuse with the mixture, turning the contents of the bowl into a boiling silvery red liquid as it continued to hiss. The glyph also continued to brighten. It's light had grown so incredibly intense, that Jerrit could see some of the onlookers to his side shield their eyes.

"Grant me the power…"

"NO!" a booming female voice interrupted him.

Jerrit's rhythm completely broken he hesitated a moment before continuing.

"Grant me your…"

"NO!" the voice came again.

It was so loud that Jerrit broke his line of sight on the girl, shaking his head. Something is wrong. He turned and scanned the room. No one else seemed to be reacting in any way. Had they not heard the voice too? Maybe it was just the curse trying to deny him from driving it out.

He raised his arm again and continued to pour, shouting out his remaining lines, determined not to be drowned out again.

"KORALENAE, I DEMAND THE POWER TO HEAL THIS GIRL!" The last drop fell into the bowl.

He knew immediately his mistake.

The silvery substance began to rise from the bowl. Folding in on itself as the form climbed higher and higher stretching upward. It began to arc towards Jerrit, and he thought for a moment it was alive, as he was convinced it looked at him. Then, it shot further up and arced towards the girl, racing at the ivory crib.

"No! No no no!" he reached out in vain. But it was too late.

And he was too far from the girl.

The silvery liquid flew at the princess. Covering the girl from head to toe, coating every inch of her. The light around the crib burst forth from the glyph brighter than any that Jerrit had witnessed before. He fell back and covered his eyes. The hiss had grown so loud, it drowned everything else out.

Everything but the girl. Nothing could drown the out that piercing wail from Jerrit.

And with another flash the room was dark.

His ears still ringing he tried to get his eyes to adjust. He attempted to pull himself from the floor. Stumbling back to his feet he stammered over to the crib- it's white ivory stained with blackened ash.

He shut his eyes. This was all a bad dream. He must be under some sort of spell. This was a vision from Koralenae, the gods were known to invoke very intense visions from time to time to serve whatever lesson they wanted to impart. This was just a bad dream.

He slowly peeked into the crib.

The girl soft flesh was gone, and in its place was a hardened silver statue of the girl. It's face contorted in pain and frozen in a scream. Jerrit's head began to spin again. The scream. All he could hear was that scream.

"GODS NO!" came a shout from behind him.

"Drinduma my sweet baby girl! NO!" the king wept. Torgrum grabbed up the heavy frozen body up and collapsed on the floor. He looked at the girl again and cried out. "GODS NO! GODS NO! WHY?! WHY GREAT BUILDER?!"

Jerrit didn't understand. He had done everything right, what happened to cause his misstep. He didn't know what to do. He should have never made a demand of Koralenae, but something had happened before that.

He wanted to scream out that he had done everything right, but he couldn't find enough strength to utter a single syllable. He took one step and placed his hand on the king as though that would make everything alright.

"Get your stinking hands off me you demon! YOU DAMNED DEMON! What did you do to my daughter demon?!"

"Great King Torgrum, I… I didn't..."

"SEIZE THE DEMON!" screamed the king through his tears.

Jerrit was soon converged on but was still so stunned from the events that took place, he didn't have a chance to react and soon found himself restrained by three of the king's palace guards.

"By the gods demon, you will undo this right now or you will suffer… you will suffer like no one has suffered before." Jerrit knew from the king's tone, he meant the threat whole-heartedly.

"Great King Torgrum," he said defensively, "I assure you I did nothing but try and save your daughter's life. I am no demon," he begged.

"Then I will take that as your answer. Your choice is to suffer then. So be it demon. You will undo this. Or I am not the King of Brindlethron." Torgrum continued to hold his daughter.

"Take him to Fringdol!" the king waived his hand at the guards. And as they drug him from the room, Jerrit knew this was not a dream…

 It was a nightmare.

Jerrit : pt2

Continued from Jerrit : pt1

The child was about the size of a two year old, though Jerrit couldn't be sure of her actual age, as he wasn't quite sure how fast dwarves actually matured. The girl was covered in a thick deer skin blanket and he could see her forehead was sweating.

He was assaulted by the odor of burnt honey when he closed in on the crib. Two silver bowls had actually been placed in the corners next to the girl. A small wisp of smoke escaping from each of them.

Jerrit knew the dwarves very highly valued friy honey as the insects rarely made it this high up the mountain, and that they often claimed it had divine or healing properties; but this was utter nonsense and Jerrit couldn't imagine how any of them could stand it.

Then he saw the girls lips... they were cracked and blackened as if the skin had bubbled before bursting, and then died. It was one of the most gruesome sights he had ever seen as far as physical manifestations of a disease. This was only compounded by the fact that the girl was so young.

It truly tore at him as he focused his attention on his preparations. He hovered over the princess a moment longer pondering how long she had needlessly suffered at the hands of the incompetent 'healers' on either side of him.

Turning this frustration on the clerics he snapped orders at them.

"First get these ridiculous things out of here." Grabbing the bowls and shoving them away he turned his head in disgust. "And bring me four candles, no shorter than a half a foot in length and 21 pieces of silver. Pure silver."

The clerics stood stunned for a moment before hearing him shout again. "Now!" And with that, they were off. He wasn't sure if they had been spoken to like that previously, but he didn't mind the startled looks on their faces before they left. Looking back at the child he knew they deserved a sharper lesson than having a few orders shouted at them.

He stroked the girl's hair, which was thinner than it looked and again Jerrit was saddened at the thought that such a young child had been made to suffer such a horrible condition. He gently turned the child from her side to lay flat in the crib and positioned her squarely. He then reached in to his bag, and produced a thick piece of chalk, a leather bound book and a silver star, the symbol of Koralenae.

He flipped through the book considering how powerful of a spell might be needed. Glancing over his notes, he came across a ritual he had used to purge a small farming village of a rather nasty curse that caused them to be covered in pustules that oozed a burning green slime when they burst, a 'gift' by one of the townsfolk who had been discovered to be witch. She had been a delusional bitch, no more than 17, thinking to punish the village for the constant teasing she had received the entirety her young life. She had let her anger twist her heart to match her deformed face. After Jerrit had arrived, it didn't take long for him to suspect the girl's involvement, after all, she was the only one who had not been cursed. Jerrit wondered if her burnt corpse still stood in the field where he last saw her.

He snapped the book closed. He did not want to take any chances now with the child. He would have to duplicate the powerful bit of magic, not just for the dwarven girl's sake, but also for his own. He could ill afford any mistakes here in Torgrum's bedchamber. Who knows how a dwarven king might react to a failed ritual. Jerrit did not have any misconceptions he would be granted a second. 

Continued tomorrow....

Jerrit : pt1

"This is him, King Torgrum!"

Jerrit looked at the surrounding chambers. So this is what the dwarves do with their precious gems. The room's décor left him feeling slightly dizzy. Every nook and cranny it seemed had been infused with some sort of gold or silver. Precious gems seemed to stick to every surface like pollen on a bee. Marble pilasters lined the edge of the room leading back to an ivory bed fitted with satin sheets.

Jerrit could only wonder at how many hours upon hours the King's loyal subjects had toiled away over the years to fill this room with such extravagance. Though he was sure most of them hadn't even had the opportunity to stand where he was standing now and see the fruits of that hard work; for surely they would have not wasted another moment towards something so frivolous if they had seen what their labor truly produced.

"Are you really as gifted as the rumours claim?" The king asked Jerrit.

Jerrit finally seeing the source of the question was caught off guard. The king was not the symbol of opulence he had expected. Instead of the broad shouldered boisterous Dwarven-giant, if such a thing existed; he was met by a creature whose tears ran freely with no attempt to hide them from either Jerrit or his Dwarven escorts.

"Yes. Whatever you have heard of me and my deeds, are true. I am a healer of Koralenae, and as one of her chosen, I have performed many great feats in her name." Jerrit paused to take in the room's admiration. "I will surely call on Koralenae's blessing to drive away whatever ails the child, my Great King, as surely as a King is deserving of such a beautiful bedchamber." Jerrit's comment dripped of sarcasm, but he didn't care. They needed him.

If Torgrum caught Jerrit's slight he let it go. He approached Jerrit and embraced him tightly, sobbing.

"Please," he looked up, "please work your healing on my daughter. Grant her the cure that The Great Builder has not. If Giligam is testing me, then I have failed, because I only wish to hear her laugh once more. And I will do whatever it takes, I will pay whatever price, I will give your Koralenae whatever tribute she asks to save the life of my innocent Drinduma."

How fitting thought Jerrit. To see the dwarf, who had as much power as one could dream of, beg for the one power he could not have. Still he grasped the King's forearms in sympathy, and replied "I ask for nothing great King Torgrum. I will cast aside her fever in the name of Koralenae, and drive out the sickness from her body. Show her to me, so the Kingdom of Brindlethron's future Queen may know the grace of The Eternal Mother."

Torgrum moved aside, and in the back corner, Jerrit saw a few women gathered around a small crib made of Ivory. As he approached a soft looking dwarven woman dressed in matching chamber robes to the king's, turned to face Jerrit. She stared at Jerrit, unable to hide eye contempt through her red, swollen eyes.

"The Builder is testing us Torgrum, we cannot falter now."

"I don't give a damn Drummina! This human is a chosen of Koralenae, already with a long list of feats to his name. He is our only hope right now. He is our daughter's only hope."

Jerrit could see several of the women next to the crib shift uncomfortably at words they surely must have found equally blasphemous as insulting. He could see now, as he got closer to them, the symbol of Giligam hanging around their necks. The queen was not happy either it seemed. But of course the king's words were not a lie. Jerrit knew if The Builder's own clergy were unable to help the princess, her fate was sealed without his help.

Continued tomorrow...

Ellamana

"Is it true?"

"Yes your grace" the servant paused before continuing, "the child has been taken."

"And my daughter?"

"Her screams at the discovery woke the fellow-tree. The first ones to see her had to restrain her. Her mind seemed temporarily broken as one might expect under the circumstances."

"Do not lie to me Pagilli, was there any of the child's blood? Are we sure it was just taken?"

"There was no blood your grace; as far as we know, your granddaughter is still alive."

"Thank you Pagilli, when my daughter wakes, please bring her to me. You may leave me for the moment to collect myself. The council will want to know what has happened. They will want to know something passed through the barriers."

"Of course Queen Ellamana, I will have her brought in when she wakes from her magic slumber." And with that, Pagilli turned and pulled the curtain aside and left.

Queen Ellamana could hold back her tears no longer, as soon as she was alone she started to curse to herself. Her poor daughter, Allina, must have been distraught at the sight of the empty crib.

Ellamana knew what had happened. Or at least she thought she did. He had come. He had taken Qalida. He had stolen away her granddaughter as leverage. She had her nightmare play out right in front of her; He had discovered her plan to break their deal.

The queen felt sick to her stomach; her mind racing. After dismissing the thought that any harm might actually have been done to the child, she knew the worst part was the upcoming façade she would have to put on. No one could know of course of the deal she had made with Xefgoraathi all those years ago. No one could understand the burden she had carried for the past century.

Her anger shifted quickly to the witch. She lied to me! Queen Ellamana spat a curse at her own stupidity and self chosen ignorance at actually believing the ritual could have worked. When the demon had failed to appear at the summoning ritual, she had hoped the failure would not have been discovered by Xefgoraathi. She knew now, that there was no doubt the failed ritual and her missing granddaughter were connected.

Xefgoraathi would not easily allow her free from their deal. And the only hope of seeing her granddaughter again, was to  accept her fate… or at least be very convincing that she was going to.

Jacob

"Do not lie to me Jacob, tell me where it is".

Jacob locked his eyes on his new king, determined not to be mentally tortured as well.

"Your majesty," still in disbelief at the sound of the words, "you have had me researching its location for a mere three days. Already I have poured through many tomes, but there are countless about to cover still."

"I will make an example of you if I need to, Jacob. I have sages of my own. You have been shown the mercy of my heart only because your knowledge of these books may uncover the amulet's location faster. But do not think me a fool. I will not carry this patience with me much longer and if I find out you are hiding anything, you will be joining the good king Frethoy and his family," Roggour tilted his head towards the tower balcony.

"Of course your majesty, I will continue." Jacob bowed his head at the comment. He hadn't been able to muster the strength to visit his beloved balcony in three days. Not since the pikes were put up. Even up here the smell was terrible, and his anger was only a distraction.

Roggour turned, along with his escorts, his sword scabbard nearly knocking over a pitcher of wine set on a marbled end table. "Please do, for I would hate to see yet more of Xi's fine oak be soaked in brains and blood needlessly."

Anger boiled inside of Jacob, but outwardly he kept his emotions hidden. His guise was the only advantage he had left. Keeping up appearances, he reached and snagged a book from the table, snapping it up from the danger of the teetering silver pitcher.

As the door slammed behind Roggour and his men, Jacob threw the book down in disgust; his internal struggle to remain level headed when dealing with Roggour bursting from him as though his lungs couldn't contain his frustration a moment longer. With his adrenaline subsiding, he reached for the leather bound book that had been the unlucky object in his brief tantrum.

A small tear, unnoticeable to anyone else, ran along the bottom ridge of the binding. Jacob cursed as he rubbed the leather. Not that it mattered really, the books would hardly be cared for soon. Still Jacob took the book over to his cabinet. Taking a small tin can in his hand, Jacob dabbed a piece of cloth with some oil, massaging the book's spine. Satisfied with his work, Jacob returned the can to its place; he paused a moment looking over his shoulder as he traced his finger along the back of the cabinet. Assured he had a moment alone, Jacob pulled on the finger hole and removed the secret panel.

He stared at the bow. He stared and stared dreaming of plunging an arrow into Roggour's heart. How shocked would he be, Jacob thought. He laughed at how ironic it would be, the new king dispatched by an old librarian. They probably had no idea he could even draw the string.

He counted the quiver. 8 arrows. Damn. He should have kept more than just enough for target practice. 8 arrows would be just enough to get him killed. But he knew he had to escape. He knew Roggour  was too barbaric for him to stall him much longer. He thought of the pikes below. He would have to face them eventually. Why did Roggour have to face them inward? Not outward as a warning, but inward for pleasure when he passed them. Or maybe, it was a warning. To the handful of captured castle workers left from the coup. Absolute obedience he had said. The alternative…

It wasn't Frethoy that was the most gruesome of the lot, he had accepted his fate. But the children, they fought, not understanding the futility, and their blows had not been as clean.

They were all the warning Jacob and the others needed to follow their new orders without complaint.

But Jacob was soon pulled from his thoughts of the scene below his balcony by a soft pink glow against his face. Something was causing the gem in the amulet of Illygg to glow. Something had upset it. Jacob didn't know what it meant, but as he shut the door to the cabinet he had one thought.

He needed to find more arrows.