Why not The Sexy Boat?
The cover can be done up something like:
Just saying… 
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Ahahahaha you all are awesome 
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Because that title’s not a pun, making it strictly inferior to titles that are. 
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I keep scrolling up and seeing “Still Waters Run Sexy” and giggling to myself again. I should share my random ideas more often!
I am rather liking the idea of writing something with magic again that’s all mine; I haven’t done that since Blood Money. I’d enjoy trying out things where the PC could focus on different powers that are their strengths, or specialising in something. This sort of thing (though not this particular idea, which came up in my mind very recently) has been rotating in my mind since playing Baldur’s Gate 3 last summer. Although this wouldn’t be anything like D&D, I like how the uncanny-ness of magic is depicted there, which is very impressive for a game where everything is a known quantity for players who have read the source material.
I should reiterate the caveat that I’m not sure whether this will go anywhere - by the time I’m in a position to start something new properly, I may have come up with something that feels much more solid - but there is something very refreshing about slotting ideas together and swapping out different elements to see how it would change the tone and possible plotlines.
“Still Waters Run Sexy” would probably be a Heart’s Choice, perhaps set in the Creme universe or in some other universe TBD. Probably something related to this post I made the other month.
I quite want to write a Creme game set in Zaledo, and I think a university game might be set there; or perhaps in Westerlin. I came up with a sort-of university concept last year set in Jezhan (it was about frantically working on a project during uni vacation, and then Things occur), but I think I’m not so into it now.
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I’m sorry, I’m now picturing a game that takes place in an university that’s located in a cruise ship.
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Handy for marine field research!
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Jacques Cousteau U Book One: Of Fish and Flirting
Other titles:
Mussels and Make-Outs
Sharks and Sheets
Cuttlefish and Courting
Merfolk and Marriage
And, of course, the sex scene DLC, which replaces the fade-to-blacks with actual scenes:
Unleash the Kraken
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Submarine Squeeze: Going Down
Love Galley: Ramming Speed
Cruise Control: Tender Excursion
Oil Rig Manager: Tapping the Pipe
Naval Rating: Able Seamen
Freighter Captain: A Tug into Port
*
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It’s 15th on my timezone, which is not entirely good (I have deadlines!), but here’s my snippet nonetheless.
I may have stumbled onto the plot here. Also the MC's parents are terrible.
“[MC],” Sparkgap says, looking offended. “I don’t kidnap people without their permission.”
“You didn’t ask my permission,” you say.
“I didn’t kidnap you, either. We married.”
“Without. My. Permission.”
“Noted. But that was your parents’ idea, not mine.”
“You could have said no.”
“I could,” he agreed. “But I figured you’d rather not be sold off as a blood sacrifice.”
“What?”
“I may have acted hastily, and if so, I apologize. There was no chance to talk about it with you, but we can do that now-”
“Now hold your horses. Blood sacrifice?”
“It is possible I misunderstood, but that was the impression I got. It certainly was what they expected I’d be doing with you. Still, don’t take my word for it. It’s in the agreement, see for yourself.”
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So much currently that’s too spoilery to share, but here’s something that’s less so:
The “npc_awkward” variable is if you’ve broken up with someone recently in a way that wasn’t very thoughtful.
A blazing pink and orange sunset floods through the dining-room windows with colorful light, while soft lamps and candles illuminate the room with warmth.
*if (fio_awkward) and ((raf_awkward) and (sav_awkward))
Fiore, Raffi, and Savarel, who are sitting together. They're determinedly not paying you much attention while Matia and ${varenn} chat, but the food is delicious and you can settle comfortably enough.
It's a combination of Teranese spiced rice and sticky, luxurious meat and vegetables, exquisitely cooked Guiyaran barbecue, and even a few exquisite Dahaikan curries. Each dish brings more heat and flavor combinations you'd never encountered before.
"…no, it was pretty fun in the end," Matia's now saying to Fiore. $!{mat_theyre} holding forth about a surveying trip ${mat_they} took to the summit of Mount Ara, the highest of the Arracin Mountains. "We got to go skiing with the locals and we were warm enough in our shelters. It was basically like a vacation."
*if camping_1_mat_sav
"No one died?" Fiore says, resting ${fio_their} chin on ${fio_their} hand to listen. "I never know with your stories. They start out fine, but then something terrible changes how they go."
"No one died in that story," Matia says beneficently. "I wouldn't do that to you, not when we're having a nice time."
Fiore shudders delicately. "Thank you. I wouldn't want to be put off my food."
*else
"No one got hurt or anything?" Fiore says, resting ${fio_their} chin on ${fio_their} hand to listen.
"Not this time," Matia says. "But I can tell you a more gruesome one if you want."
Fiore shudders delicately. "Please, no! I don't want to be put off my food."
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Happy 15th of the month everyone!
In a thread started last week about writing multiple projects at the same time, by @EshcharCohen, I wrote:
For this month’s excerpt, I decided to take an hour of my morning yesterday and write a bit of creative writing based on a werewolf idea I story boarded a bit of called: Children of the Moon.
Children of the Moon excerpt 04/15/24
Filii Lunae
Outside, the moon’s silvery radiance illuminates the snow and ice with an ethereal beauty that is truly magical. A magic that I would be bathing in, if I had a choice. I don’t have a choice to make right now. Instead, I am curled up in a corner seat in the county hospital’s waiting room, watching the family across from me that is sharing this space with me.
My red rucksack leans against the chair’s leg at my feet and I have my sister’s phone charging next to me. The sickly and faded yellow light from the ceiling fixtures beats down on me and glints from the silver cuff that encircles my wrist. Realizing the handcuff is visible to everyone, I yank my arm closer to my torso. I frown at this, because no one, not even myself, can take their eyes from the handcuffs that anchor me to the chair that I am curled up in.
“Daddy, why is that…”
*choice
#…man cuffed to his chair?"
*set gender 1
#…lady cuffed to her chair?"
*set gender 2
#…person cuffed to their chair?"
*set gender 3
The child across the room from me is bundled in winter clothing from head to toe and squirms in their chair between mother and father, first looking at their father, then twisting in their seat to gaze at their mother. “Momma… you are going to be okay, right?”
“Hush child.” The mother reaches out and squeezes her child’s shoulder before clenching up with a wet cough escaping her lips. “I am going to be just fine. I promise, little one.”
"Yes, my love. Your mother will be just fine. Now, stop staring at the @{gender man|woman|person } across from you… " The father, turning to face his child wraps his arm around both mother and child. He then glances my way and screws up his face as his gaze lands on the metal cuffs, keeping me attached to the chair. “It isn’t polite and we Williamsons are always polite to others.”
Except these neighbors of mine have been anything but polite since I arrived in this mountain town, even calling the sheriff to report my activity on more than one occasion. This time, the sheriff was not called by them, the Williamsons being too caught up in their family medical drama to care about my dancing and cavorting in the moonlit woods.
No, I don’t know who called the sheriff this time, but whoever did so, has put me between a rock and a hard place. Hopefully, I can squeeze my way out of this jam, or I might be locked up sooner than later. Just as I roll my eyes at this thought, the steel paneled door labeled “security” opens and a hospital security guard walks into the waiting room. “Hey…”
*choice
#.“…Jack, why don’t we get you out of those cuffs for now.”
*set name “Jack”
#“…Jill, why don’t we get you out of those cuffs for now.”
*set name “Jill”
#.“…John, why don’t we get you out of those cuffs for now.”
*set name “John”
#“…Jane, why don’t we get you out of those cuffs for now.”
*set name “Jane”
#.“…Hunter, why don’t we get you out of those cuffs for now.”
*set name “Hunter”
#“…River, why don’t we get you out of those cuffs for now.”
*set name “River”
#The security guard actually calls me …
*input_text name
I consider this “creative writing” for myself because for this to turn into something real, I would need to outline and then mutate this existing 500ish word exercise into something more.
As in the prior months, I invite everyone to share an excerpt.
Remember that excerpts shared here are not intended to elicit proper critique and feedback, but if anyone does have an opinion on if this is something I should pursue (and maybe someday write an outline for), feel free to share it with me, here or in DM 
.
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That made me hungry!
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A spoiler-free snippet of what I’m making for Ludum Dare 55.
From Project Missionary, Act 2
“Pesky hooded guys… they’re really out to ruin our fun!”
Patty Nicole fumes at our imprisonment here in this admittedly not dreary cell.
By the way… those hooded guys she was talking about?
Minutes ago, we were at Mission Blackberry 69 Beer Garden, enjoying some shandy and non-alcoholic beer, when someone seated right next to us suddenly spouted the following beneath his slurred speech due to drunkenness.
“Shure feelsh proud reading politiciansh’ hishtoriesh on the internet, and when you found isshuesh with them, you would shtill vote for them, like they don’t affect your daily life. (hic)”
“The electionsh are literally becoming a beauty pageant! (hic)”
“It really feels proud, ‘cause I feel like a geniush with those dunce votersh. (hic)"
Then those hooded men came; and without warning, they cast teleportation spells on us and some others, including the rambling drunk.
I even overheard one of them whispering, “You’re being called by the overlord, fools.”
She then continues her rant.
“So it’s true! There’s indeed a shadow government controlling this metropolis. I fear they might toss us out of a helicopter, but urgh! Why?”
“Come on, we know they won’t do something that extreme!”
She just sighs as she calms herself down.
“Yeah, I know. And… the CEO we’ve met days ago is also here? I recognize him by his voice alone! What a small world we’re in!”
I sensibly reply…
“We’re all being summoned for a reason.”
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I’m coming back to writing after a two-week break, so I’m going to share something I wrote before I left. It’s a choice block you can get when you meet some visiting yeoman conscripts from the imperial army, including the personal equerry of Lady Agarie de Irde, and have a chance to ask them questions about military life.
To keep it a little more readable in forum format, I’m putting the overall choice and its options in bold italics, to distinguish them from more deeply indented choice blocks.
Chatting with Quaelle Charbonnier and friends
You’d have expected the visiting Phalangites to be a dampening force on their families’ resentments. Instead, to your surprise, they grumble more freely and daringly than most. Quaelle Charbonnier, in particular, is nearly as ready as Alastor Korren to scorn the Telone’s demands. The equerry seems to take a liking to you, and you seize the opportunity to find out more from her and her comrades about one thing:
choice
#What it’s like to be a Phalangite—especially one drawn from the commons, not the nobility.
“Are you thinking of taking the omphalos?” Quaelle @{(sralibi = 4) asks with genuine-seeming enthusiasm. “We can always use folk who know something of combat—now more than ever.”|inquires with amusement when you ask.}
You just laugh. “No one I ever knew in my village walked that road by choice, kuria. Only the nobles, from what I heard. And begging your grace, but I always thought the aristoi were the only ones who got anything out of it.”
“There’s more to the army than being an officer, ${ird_name}…” Quaelle begins.
“But you’re as good as an officer, Charbo!” one of the others calls, caustic-voiced. “When you’re sent east, it’s as lady Agarie’s right hand. If the rest of us are ever sent there, it’ll be as a human hushing-flow.”
“As…what, kurios?” you call, while Quaelle strides over to cuff the man cheerfully on the head.
“No mines near your village, eh, ${girl}? If you don’t have an alchemist to make you powder, you have to use water to strip away the rock and get the ore. Great bursts of water.” The grizzled Phalangite’s smile is belied by the strain in his eyes. “That’s how they use us commoners, out east. Throw enough of us at the enemy to wear them down by our volume alone. Enough of us to absorb the worst the magi can throw at us and still overrun their positions.”
“Not since the trucebreaking, they haven’t!” Quaelle objects, as you try to imagine how many Phalangites would die from those tactics. “You’re still talking as if it was twenty, thirty years ago, before you or I ever saw combat. The generals made mistakes then, foolish ones. The mutinies taught them their lesson. They won’t try the same again.”
“Won’t they? Then why aren’t they training all of us like they trained you and the lady?” The other soldier folds his arms stubbornly. “A lance like yours, Charbo, made up of mostly nobles…even during the truce years, you were drilled constantly to fight and survive. But my whole hecaton has just about enough training to bless the Angels, hail Kleitos, face eastward, and run.” Lips twisting, he gestures at his fellow conscripts. “Reckon the Strategoi only give us this plough-holiday because they hope half of us will desert and get Harrowed. We’re worth more to them as blood than we are as meat.”
“Too far, you go too far,” Quaelle laughs. “Run off to ${lname}'s rebels if you truly believe that!” As they continue arguing, you think:
*choice
#There’s an opportunity here for my rebellion to win over the common-born Phalangites.
It’s no surprise that many feel ill-used, if they think their end is to be broadcast onto a battlefield and ground up by Halassurq magi. Could you convince them to mutiny against their noble officers and Theurges, instead?
*set phalangoal 3
*goto yeonation
#I’d rather try to inspire the whole Hegemonic army, both nobles and commoners, to mutiny.
Quaelle’s mention of mutinies before the truce caused your ears to prick up. The resumption of the endless war against Halassur will surely have brought many Phalangites close to the point of breaking. If you could turn them against the Thaumatarchy instead…whether or not they acknowledged your leadership, losing its army would be the Hegemony’s deathblow.
*set phalangoal 4
*goto yeonation
#I doubt that could ever work, but I’m not opposed to the idea.
However ill-used these yeoman Phalangites may feel, you find it hard to imagine them choosing to turn against their noble officers and Theurges. But you’ll keep one cautious eye open; if you ever did see an opportunity to win them to your rebellion, it would be the Hegemony’s deathblow.
*set phalangoal 2
*goto yeonation
#No—they’ll be too blinkered by their indoctrination. I need to build a new army, loyal to me and the rebellion.
Like the grizzled soldier said, even the under-trained yeoman units are still taught to bless the Angels and hail the Thaumatarch. The Phalangites’ minds and hierarchies have been too deeply shaped by the Hegemony to reliably serve a new order. You’ll need to build your own army, not rely on the flawed old one.
*set phalangoal 5
*goto yeonation
#The Phalangites @{(wonfight > 5) tried to slaughter us|slaughtered us} in the Whendward. They’re the enemy and must be destroyed.
In their home village on plough-leave, they may act pleasant enough. But they’d still kill you without compunction if they knew who you were—especially once they’re back in their black helms. You’re not going to forget that, even if it’s not worth the risk to attack these few here in Irduin.
*set phalangoal 1
*goto yeonation
#The state of the war in Halassur.
You soon realize that while the other Phalangites are garrisoned here in the Southriding, Quaelle and her lady Agarie spend almost all of their time on the Halassur-${errets} border out east. They’ve just returned from advising a Myriarch there, and only paused briefly in Vaulens to join the local conscripts on their way back for Barningday.
“So how many troops does your lady command, then, out on the Halassur front?” you ask the equerry when she’s walking down the lane one afternoon.
“Generally, none. If enough other officers died, her rank is equal in honor to a tagmatarch, and she could be required to take up command at that level. But Angels, she’d be dreadful at it.” Quaelle gives a throaty laugh. “She’s an ordnance officer. Thanks to growing up around the Stannary, when she first went to war, she was one of the only young officers unafraid of miners’ powder. She’s been packing it into shells to hurl at the Halassurqs for longer than either of us has been alive.”
Most of the war stories you’ve heard, whether of horrors or triumphs, focus on Theurgy: whole armies set ablaze in vitriolic fire or swallowed up by the earth. You’ve not heard many tales involving the use of the sort of alchemy non-Theurges can master. “Is that much done, goodwoman?”
“When milady first took up her post, folk called it a death sentence. A mage can sniff out powder from a mile away. Carrying it close enough to be used in battle is madly risky.” Quaelle leans forward, baring her teeth in a grin. “But some forty years ago, the Polemarchs decided it was a risk worth taking. Flood tactics, they called it: send in more of everything than the magi of Halassur could stop. Far more soldiers, far more ships…and far more explosives.”
*fake_choice
#I wait for a moment, and when it’s clear she’s done, ask: “But not far more Theurges?”
One corner of Quaelle’s mouth curves wryly upward. “Those are harder to come by, and far costlier to lose. They would fly in last of all, when the enemy magi were overwhelmed by wave on wave of attackers. If the ordnance officers had managed to bring up shells, the Theurges would propel them in from a distance then, before closing with any surviving magi themselves.”
#“And officers like your lady were ready to risk themselves that way?”
“For the chance at victory in the long war, and avenging themselves on the Halassurqs?” Quaelle smiles wryly. “Some, at least, were willing. And their courage moved others. My father all but worshiped lady Agarie and stayed by her side no matter how much mage-fire was falling.”
#“Did Halassur not try to flood us similarly?”
“Impossible.” Quaelle shakes her head smugly. “Halassur doesn’t know Ward-making. The Wardgates are all under our control, not theirs. So we’re the only ones able to move weapons and blood through the Ward—and you need huge amounts of both to make the tactic work.”
You try to imagine it, @{((ruthreal >= 45) and (ruthreal < 60)) uneasily|} @{(ruthreal >= 45) fascinated|feeling queasy with horror}. “So in their flood, the generals sacrificed…hundreds? Thousands?”
“Tens of thousands.” The equerry is silent for a moment. “But they were pushing back the Halassurqs, at a rate unmatched for centuries! The war was being won.”
“And yet…it wasn’t?”
Quaelle shakes her head. “Betrayal and mutiny. The generals were sweeping up the scum of the cities and sending them into battle. Too many of them started turning on their officers when the time came for the charge. Lady Agarie and my father couldn’t fight the magi and the mutineers at the same time.”
“But after the truce ended? Are we pushing back Halassur again now?” With the @{(ruthreal < 50) horrific|} flood tactics?
“I fear the moment was missed. The nearest Wardgates to the front are in Grezzagio and Moncesano on the Errets coasts, hundreds of miles from the actual front line. Any shells or other weapons need to be brought through the Wards there, or even further west, and be borne to the war by ship or Theurge.” Her eyes narrow bitterly. “Halassur didn’t waste the truce. Their coastal forts with mage-wrought ballistae, their flying patrols, their navy—all are far better at costing us ships than they were before the truce. We haven’t been able to build up enough weaponry on their side of the Ward yet to mount a truly mass attack.”
*fake_choice
#“So to be an ordnance officer now is even more a death sentence?”
Quaelle laughs. “No. Our side didn’t wholly waste the truce, either. Karagon’s alchemists found simple ways for soldiers to mix three or four inert substances to make an explosive. These days, the stuff we carry to the battlefield is far less visible to magi than miner’s powder, and we only blend it an hour before our Theurges arrive for launching. If we can just get a boatload of ingredients safely ashore, we’re less likely than ever to be caught on land.”
#“So how do you use the powder now, if not in a ‘flood’ attack?”
“A lochos—that is to say, a lance, a band of ten—can often slip ashore with a small boat, a Theurge, and perhaps thirty shells.” Quaelle shrugs. “That may not be enough to overwhelm their magi. But it’s enough to do plenty of damage from a safe distance to farms or villages in the war zone. And clearing those out is the first step to pushing out the Ward.”
#“Are you still conscripting Phalangites in the same numbers as forty years ago?”
Quaelle nods, looking a little @{((ruthreal >= 45) and (ruthreal < 60)) uneasy herself now.|uneasy.} “We’re still sending press gangs to sweep up the dregs of the cities, as well as landless yeomen in the countryside. I suppose they reckon it’s better to have them under arms than stirring up Xaos in the streets? During the long truce, fewer and fewer units were ever sent east, and more were packed into garrison cities back here, like Currechert outside Grand Shayard. Good for problems like the Rim Commotion, I suppose, if things get so out of hand that you need an extra fifteen thousand troops. Or if the Abhumans ever decide to invade.”
Her stories make me feel:
*fake_choice
*if aristo
#A little jealous of the glory they’re able to win on the battlefront.
#Relieved that Halassur is still being held at bay.
#Furious. The war is chewing up ${aristo nobles,|} yeomen and the free folk of the cities as callously as Harrowing consumes helots.
#Sick. The tactics she’s talking about are monstrous.
*goto yeonation
#The de Irde family and their secrets.
*set ird_sus +2
Quaelle won’t say a word against her mistress or against lady Alasais. But you overhear her speaking in high dudgeon about “those snakes in Grand Shayard who were family to milady!” After a few more cups of canewine, you follow her out of the Chesnery and ask what she meant by that.
“You’ve got a nose for all the gossip, haven’t you, ${girl}?” Quaelle says, warily and a bit unsteadily. “But you’d hear this soon or late from someone, so you’d best have it first from a trusty witness. I’m talking about the de Wrase. Westriding House from near Kellsbier. Their son Tyndar is father to lady Alasais’s children.”
You nod, trying to hide the keenness of your interest. “A divorce? And it went badly?”
“Everything about the man went badly.” Quaelle shakes her head and spits. “Else there wouldn’t have been a divorce. I’m the one who found him in…a compromising position…with one of the other yeoman equerries at a ball in Mesniel. When I was about your age, thirteen years back. Kurios Tyndar tried to buy my silence, then tried threatening me; and when I brought my testimony anyway and the marriage was being undone, he threw around all sorts of ugly allegations about House de Irde. But none of them found a purchase.”
“His family still bears enmity against you—and against lady Alasais?”
“His family, and his powerful friends.” Quaelle’s lip curls. “The Traditionalist faction in Grand Shayard. They help him press his grudge against the de Irde.”
*set tyndar 2
*fake_choice
#I think about the robes Alasais and her family wear. “Aren’t the de Irde traditionalists themselves?”
“In their dress and language, yes. That’s what first attracted the late lord de Irde to kurios Tyndar.” Quaelle sighs. “But lady Alasais has never paid much heed to the cabals of Shayard City. Her heart is here, and she rarely extends her thoughts or influence farther than the aristarch in Mesniel.”
“And your lady Agarie?”
"She cares only for crushing Halassur. But when we’re coming and going from the far east…every three years, we spend more time in Grand Shayard than lady Alasais has in her lifetime. So we hear more of what’s afoot with these
#“I’ve never seen a more successful ‘traditional’ relationship between noble and commons than here.”
“The kindly noble presiding over a peaceful community, with everyone in the village paying her respect and deference, and looking to her to protect them from the excesses of the Hegemony’s officials…I’d not thought it existed, until I came here.” You gesture back at the Chesnery. “Does that mean nothing to these so-called traditionalists in Grand Shayard?”
“They don’t know of it, nor care. You think they’d ever come out to a backwater like Irduin, to see what the old traditions of Shayard truly look like? They’d rather sit in their great plantations or city mansions, surrounded by helots and merchants and Karagonds, and pretend they’re the true guardians of our folkways.” Quaelle’s sneer only deepens. "Stupid
#“Shouldn’t they have more important issues to prosecute?”
@{(rescuer > 0) Like arming the Rim Commotion? |}“How does it serve tradition for them to spend their time chasing petty grudges?”
“Aye—spending all your time on infighting and backbiting between Houses is supposed to be Erretsin tradition, not Shayardene!” Quaelle smirks. "But you can’t tell them that in Grand Shayard. Seems like they spend all their time in some intrigue or another. Stupid
#“For a commoner who made an enemy of a noble faction, you seem to have done well for yourself.”
The equerry lifts her chin proudly. “My father was a martyr and hero who saved a dozen aristoi and Karagonds. Lady Agarie doesn’t hesitate to remind the Myriarchs of that, if anyone questions my place at her side. Anyway, when it became clear that we were going to spend our lives on the eastern frontlines, the Traditionalists decided to leave their revenge in the Halassurqs’ hands.”
“Still. Since the Halassurqs have failed so far…whenever you’re passing through Shayard City, couldn’t the nobles…?” You draw a finger across your throat.
Quaelle gives a coarse laugh. "I’d love for them to try. Weak-bellied
Laconnier bastards."
@{((rescuer > 0) or (ystor > 4)) The name sends a chill through you. “Surely they don’t style themselves that?”|“Laco-what?” You’ve heard the name before, but don’t want her to know that.}
“It’s what folk call them who wish the Kryptasts would make them all vanish,” Quaelle @{((rescuer > 0) or (ystor > 4)) concedes wryly.|explains wryly. “Even in the Rim you know the story, surely—how the last scion of the old monarchy disappeared into the Forests of Laconne, and ever since there’s been a ‘Laconnier conspiracy’ of nobles preserving the bloodline in secret? It’s nonsense, but it makes for a good slur.”}
“What do these ‘Laconniers’ want, then?” You’re sure your Keriatou @{aristo cousins|ex-masters} are part of the faction as well, but you want to hear what Quaelle thinks.
“They say they want to see the Shayardene way of life preserved; that following Karagond law shouldn’t require us to ape Karagond culture and forget our own. Sounds reasonable enough, no?” The equerry grimaces. “I say they’re a pack of petty tyrants who like to make up rules, just so folk have to obey them. Making an example of anyone who shames them fits well with that.”
*fake_choice
#I’m sympathetic to their official purpose. Perhaps if I ever meet these Traditionalists, I can steer them back toward it.
#I don’t want to be bound by old Shayardene traditions, any more than Karagond ones.
#@{aristo I prefer lady Alasais’s way. Nobles should focus on local needs, not intrigues in the Archon’s court|What a noble cabal thinks doesn’t make much difference to me either way}.
*goto yeonation
*label yeonation
20 Likes
It’s been slow going on my WIP lately because mom-life, but I keep chipping away at it. Here’s another excerpt from the selection of books at the end of chapter 5 of Ink and Intrigue:
A Guide to Dragon Runes
A Guide to Dragon Runes by Magi Jeracoe is a truly gorgeous tome. The dark purple leather is smooth when you run your fingertips over it, gently touching the embroidered lettering and silver runes around the edges. When you trace the power rune branded in the center beneath the title, you get the idea that it was burned into the book because it carries more power that way.
Delighting in the quality of the paper, you open to the first page and start reading.
Preface: The Study of Runes
The study of runes is the pursuit of understanding how the power of a thing can be transmitted through a symbol. Dragon runes make up a language that carries the essence of what each rune names. There are other types of runes, but this book is largely concerned with dragon runes, so if you read the word rune in this text, unless otherwise specified we are discussing dragon runes.
When you draw runes, or burn them, or use mind magic to conjure them into existence, you bring the essence they identify into play. They can be used to heal, to build, to protect, and to kill. Runes have an infinite number of uses.
My hope is to not only teach you how to use runes, but why they must be used with respect.
I’m writing this book at the end of nearly three hundred years of service in the Temple of Runes atop Ra’zai. I’m ready for other adventures, but feel the responsibility to make my accumulated knowledge available to those who are not able to journey to the temple city and study under a rune master. My apprentice, Matteo, has turned into a master himself, and if fate chooses you to study with him, you’re lucky indeed. But those who do not hear the call of the Kitherin also deserve to understand the mystery of dragon runes. For too long their knowledge has been hidden, when it could benefit many.
My last act as rune master of Ra’zai is to make this information available to everyone.
*page_break You turn the page…
A mortal who does not possess magic can work with runes to access subtle power. A mortal spellcaster will find more control and potency, and a mortal mage may be able to get some impressive results. If you’re working with a decent amount of Fae magic you can create some truly spectacular effects, nearly equal to Kitherin mages. But even if you have no magic of your own, if you learn how to tap into the magic of the runes they will provide what you need.
Having an instrument imbued with dragon blood will enhance whatever energy you’re able to harness. If you have access to dragon ink your results will be far more powerful. Even a drop of dragon blood in a vat of ink is enough to add significant magic. Dragon blood must be freely given, and dragon ink used for evil intent is likely to backfire. Kitherin and kindred alike monitor use of dragon ink, and ill use is subject to swift and severe punishment, which has been the end of many a maleficent mage.
The key to using runes isn’t to perfect your ability to replicate their shape, though that helps. What is more important is understanding them. Connecting with the essence of any rune you decide to use.
Runework is something you live. It is something you fall in love with: a passion that seeks out your soul and bonds with your being. If you do not wish to change your life with the presence of dragon runes, close this book and give it to someone who does.
Otherwise, read on.
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An excerpt from Meteoric. Your magical microphone quickly impresses the band you’re auditioning for.
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I am trying to get something done for my jam. This is a crappy snippet from it. Sorry.
We are America
“Hace mucho tiempo…”
“Si vas a decir en una galaxia muy muy lejana. Zip it. Abu.”
“Carla…” suspiras, sin.duda es tu nieta difícil empezar tus batallitas sobre la tierra y españa.
Nada de Carla, abuela. Tengo ya 7 años.
Sonríes. el eco fino de la voz de tu nieta te recuerda a esa vieja robo muñeca de tu casa en el viejo desierto de Nueva Madrid.
La tierra más alla del cinturón de asteroides. Un eco lejano como el perfume de tu padre al afeitarse y el olor grasoso y acre del agua del refugio nuclear.
¿Recuerdos, abuela? Carla pregunta agitando sus pestañas como un abanico oxidado.
Sonríes de nuevo. Casi como un tic tratando de esconder tus manos en el horrible mono naranja de esta lata espacial.
“La tierra no podemos olvidarnos de la tierra. Ni de España allí hablábamos Español. Carla.”
Psss. su manita se alza a taparte la boca. No digas eso abu. Si te oyen te te llevaran a la sala negra. Y yo no quiero que te lleven.
We shouldn’t speak in that nasty old language, grandma.
Su cara cambia fria y quieta mecánica. mientras sus manos se posan mecánicamente en su pecho haciendo el símbolo del régimen:
“There are no nations, there are no languages there are no cultures. We are one, we are the survivors we are America.”
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When I informed my Mass Effect friends that my favorite gameplay part was driving the MAKO car, they said I was an total outlier. 
What convinced me to be more intentional about my theme work was what happened in my first ever writing group. The other students read my short story and found stuff in there I never intended. Not harmful things, just very unexpected! While they complimented my critique of performance in bureaucracy, I sat in silence, panicking, because I literally had zero thoughts about bureaucracy while writing the piece. Their responses set me on the path of both allowing surprises and sowing the text with intention.
Congrats on figuring out a tricky coding bit! Are you a fan of Alexis Hall? His historical fictions are early 19th c. but they straddle and toggle the line between historical fact and inclusive storytelling in fascinating ways.
Such fun excerpts from everyone! LOVE the puns! 
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I had a similar thing happen to me with a reading group and a short story I wrote. The group’s readers found ghost and spirit imagery where none of that was intentionally written.
I guess I reacted differently – I took the feedback and evaluated it as a way to tighten my word use and I also tried to see it from their perspective.
I believe we both received good lessons, but because we are unique writers, we applied these lessons to improve ourselves in different ways.
That is exactly one of the focuses of this monthly thread… to show writers that we are not alone and that there is more than one way to achieve our goals.
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