tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32598035081028079182024-03-27T19:54:28.176-04:00If My Brain Had a Pen, I'd Be Done by NowThis blog will be a journal/chronicle of my path as a writer. I will share my struggles, anecdotes, and updates so those that wish, can follow along with me.Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-3405072852838200782023-10-03T19:30:00.036-04:002023-10-03T19:30:00.128-04:00Hathorn's Guide: Into the Codex<p><span style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the </span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" style="text-align: justify;">beginning</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> of these letters.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The 8th of Spann, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p><br /></p><p>My Enigmatic Patrons,</p><p><br /></p><p>I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. Since my last correspondence, our journey has taken an unexpected turn, one filled with ancient tomes, cryptic scripts, and a quest that has stirred our souls.</p><p>Our journey continues, dear companions, as we seek answers and confront the echoes of Ishael's past. The threads of fate have intertwined us with the eerie tune, and we are bound to follow them wherever they may lead.</p><p>In our pursuit of answers regarding the haunting melody that has followed our dear Ishael, we have delved deep into the dusty archives of Fairhaven's grand library. The great stone walls of the library seem to whisper with the weight of ages, secrets of civilizations long past echoing through the aisles of aged tomes and manuscripts.</p><p>Our days have been consumed by the pursuit of knowledge, and our nights illuminated by the dim light of candles and oil lamps, casting long shadows upon pages worn with the passage of centuries. It is within these sacred halls of wisdom that we hope to uncover the key to silence the Haunting Melody and unveil the path to confront the malevolent Echoing Wraith.</p><p>Our journey through the library's labyrinthine shelves has been both enlightening and perplexing. Each dusty scroll and weathered codex we've perused has been like a piece of a grand puzzle, and with each discovery, we draw closer to understanding the true nature of the haunting song.</p><p>In particular, we have stumbled upon an ancient codex, its pages brittle and ink faded, yet filled with cryptic verses and arcane symbols. The codex hints at the existence of a hidden song, a melody said to possess the power to guide one to the Echoing Wraith's lair. It speaks of a ritual, a convergence of elements, and a place where the melody must be sung under the celestial tapestry.</p><p>But, my dear companions, the codex does not reveal these secrets easily. It poses riddles and challenges, demanding that we unlock its mysteries through wit and perseverance. Each night, we gather around the dimly lit table strewn with scrolls and parchments, debating the meaning of enigmatic phrases and deciphering the clues left by the scholars of yore.</p><p>It is both an exhilarating and maddening endeavor, one that tests our collective intellect and the strength of our bonds. Ishael's determination to reclaim the Haunting Melody and my own relentless pursuit of culinary perfection are now complemented by Dathor's strategic mind, Aliasbe's unwavering resolve, and Selenar's divine insights. Together, we are a formidable force, unyielding in our quest.</p><p>In our pursuit of this mysterious song, we've encountered fellow seekers of knowledge, scholars who, like us, seek to unveil the secrets hidden within the library's ancient tomes. Some have been willing to share their findings, while others guard their discoveries as closely as dragons guard their hoards.</p><p>Our journey through the library continues, as does our unwavering determination to uncover the song and confront the Echoing Wraith. With each page turned and each riddle unraveled, we draw nearer to our ultimate goal.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6Kh4mIXzKXSq_qGEv7O4LAJXAnEx4sP9jmbkVUJXkBZh6TpAxyZvawK-00dNpxpJ25DtsyHpnk6Uuw_ddZZGTpdKvzDip2N498JQ8suyxlo3SEYgbkiTohzGKFVY1WqCUYveuodEzoRHC9p5zJ0IMzwbyZlLjj-VozWXr5tc4ZA44n4qI0Vfpq7a-dpWU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white ink drawing of a mysterious tome" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6Kh4mIXzKXSq_qGEv7O4LAJXAnEx4sP9jmbkVUJXkBZh6TpAxyZvawK-00dNpxpJ25DtsyHpnk6Uuw_ddZZGTpdKvzDip2N498JQ8suyxlo3SEYgbkiTohzGKFVY1WqCUYveuodEzoRHC9p5zJ0IMzwbyZlLjj-VozWXr5tc4ZA44n4qI0Vfpq7a-dpWU=w400-h400" title="The Codex" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p>I shall continue to document our progress and discoveries, my dear companions. Until then, may your spirits remain as high as the towering shelves of knowledge that surround us.</p><p>I want to leave you with an exquisite cheese the librarians sent us off with. The High Librarian himself gave me a copy of the recipe upon request. Consuming it gave us a boost in our mental faculties as well as a pleasant aftertaste on our tongues.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The Librarian's Cheese</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZpmBmpcRIUtsf0nQyOg4ztuGhr3MVu6hXGEFp9W_5xVgNJbzVTqabmsbBz910V3H8yqQzpX_1LE6M2r1teFYj_9w8-O9cwe2xQt-FugGG6p6kEYxj8abUJLBa-jTqkY8jW1XzF5ZD802fGSdcs2eucauh3gz1yQ83wvyJj5hjG60qiUIfnHQ3VyYBhqfP" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of an intricate vine" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZpmBmpcRIUtsf0nQyOg4ztuGhr3MVu6hXGEFp9W_5xVgNJbzVTqabmsbBz910V3H8yqQzpX_1LE6M2r1teFYj_9w8-O9cwe2xQt-FugGG6p6kEYxj8abUJLBa-jTqkY8jW1XzF5ZD802fGSdcs2eucauh3gz1yQ83wvyJj5hjG60qiUIfnHQ3VyYBhqfP=w400-h400" title="The Silverthorn Vine" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p>**Ingredients:**</p><p><br /></p><p>- 1 gallon of fresh milk from your animal of choice</p><p>- 1/4 teaspoon of rennet (I prefer rennet extracted from the Silverthorn Vine as it is superior according to many in my field)</p><p>- 1/4 teaspoon of salt</p><p>- A pinch of dried herbs, like basil and thyme, for flavor</p><p><br /></p><p>**Instructions:**</p><p><br /></p><p>1. Begin by gently warming the milk in a large cauldron over the hearth until it feels just slightly warm to the touch.</p><p>2. Add the rennet. Stir it into the milk with a wooden spoon and then let it sit quietly for about 45 minutes to let the curds form.</p><p>3. Once the curds have come together, employ a cheese cloth. Gently scoop the curds into a cheese mold. Sprinkle these curds with the salt and the dried herbs to infuse them with their essence.</p><p>4. Press the curds delicately to remove excess whey. The weight of an ancient tome or any heavy object you deem appropriate will suffice for this task.</p><p>5. Place the cheese mold in a cool, dark chamber for approximately a month. Over this time, the cheese will transform, gaining its unique flavor and texture.</p><p>6. After this month of maturation, your Librarian Cheese should be ready. </p><p><br /></p><p>I recommend serving it with freshly baked flatbread and dried fruits. It shall make for a gratifying repast on your journey.</p><p>This aged cheese not only pleases the palate but may also offer an ephemeral boost to your mind. A gift from the knowledge of the venerable librarians. It pairs well with a good book or scroll on a cloudy day. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>With unyielding resolve,</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">Hathorn Rophine</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">enchantment</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> to keep them coming.</span></p>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-33435135030267575322023-09-26T19:30:00.002-04:002023-09-26T19:30:00.132-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Eldermist Library<p><span style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the </span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" style="text-align: justify;">beginning</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> of these letters</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;">The 7th of Spann, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p>My Esteemed Companions,</p><p><br /></p><p>Our journey has taken an unexpected turn, one that tugs at the strings of Ishael's past and casts a shadow over our path. The Haunting Melody, that cursed tune from her hometown of Eldermist, has resurfaced here in Fairhaven, and we are bound to confront its eerie presence once more.</p><p>In our pursuit of answers, we found ourselves at the doorstep of Mayor Thaddeus Blackthorn, a man whose demeanor exuded unease when questioned about the stolen amulet. Ishael's fiery determination flared as she demanded the truth, but diplomacy prevailed, and we left the mayor's residence with limited information.</p><p>It seems that the mayor himself is entangled in this web of mysteries, whether as a victim or an accomplice remains uncertain. Our next step is to unravel the threads of this enigma, seeking knowledge in the depths of Fairhaven's library and among its eclectic populace.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeiz7Vy6U7vJywje8_cg6x9U8gwY6LuLTcZH95BLFyNIgKz89HwRu2dx-sXGXqzftfKkwaeHd098FncO4qpkYPuPpKJEJkULfAYVVZsxuMNprNNTsL9wZpKu4BMYoXylTC-RIaB_xRpOXldU37AUKlOJJZtJ2OCCZo8LkOMVfF3SdjTtn7LBHTiuwf8RVy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeiz7Vy6U7vJywje8_cg6x9U8gwY6LuLTcZH95BLFyNIgKz89HwRu2dx-sXGXqzftfKkwaeHd098FncO4qpkYPuPpKJEJkULfAYVVZsxuMNprNNTsL9wZpKu4BMYoXylTC-RIaB_xRpOXldU37AUKlOJJZtJ2OCCZo8LkOMVfF3SdjTtn7LBHTiuwf8RVy" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p>The library was a vast labyrinth of towering shelves, each laden with ancient tomes and scrolls. Shafts of sunlight pierced the gloom, casting golden ribbons across the dusty, leather-bound volumes. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and the musky wisdom of ages past.</p><p>Selenar, with their knowledge of divine lore, sought wisdom in the forgotten corners. They engaged in whispered conversations with robed scholars, seeking clues in the annals of gods and ancient rituals. The clerics' dedication to their quest was unwavering, even as they sifted through reams of parchment that spoke of blessings and curses, light and shadow.</p><p>Ishael, her harrowing connection to the Haunting Melody evident, explored the musical archives of the library. She plucked dusty lutes and examined timeworn sheet music. The haunting tunes of her past resonated with each note she inspected. Perhaps the library held some ancient ballad, some hidden score that would reveal the secrets of the amulet.</p><p>Dathor, our stalwart leader, took a more direct approach. He engaged in animated discussions with librarians and scholars, offering his brawn in exchange for information. It was Dathor's ability to rally those around him that finally bore fruit. A librarian, an elderly gnome with spectacles perched precariously on her nose, mentioned an obscure reference.</p><p>The "Codex of Whispered Shadows," she whispered, her voice trembling with trepidation. It was rumored to contain forbidden knowledge about the Echoing Wraith and its cursed amulet. However, it was said to be locked away in a hidden chamber, known only to a select few.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwNjSax8mkemEhYCGONjPY50Tvkcq9t51ffrsYeLzbiQJtziztIL-80FdrOiLX-j7QPdMJL3Rgjcd-aPfyajaRZcMlq8jftInd91hfJeAbw9cus301QOUYPe1DppVTbP5MuM6TBgKhEJCY3G9JvcqROGBO9tVczGke1NlN81MLGTdKj5oLVk6LLBZFAQpy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwNjSax8mkemEhYCGONjPY50Tvkcq9t51ffrsYeLzbiQJtziztIL-80FdrOiLX-j7QPdMJL3Rgjcd-aPfyajaRZcMlq8jftInd91hfJeAbw9cus301QOUYPe1DppVTbP5MuM6TBgKhEJCY3G9JvcqROGBO9tVczGke1NlN81MLGTdKj5oLVk6LLBZFAQpy" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p>So, now my companions and I are in search of this secret chamber. I hope we have what it takes to gain entrance and resolve this specter from Ishael's past. </p><p>Before I leave you, I must tell you of the Library's Flatbread recipe. I snuck a piece as a servant passed by and deduced the recipe. From what I understand consumption of this bread will allow minor resistance to temperature changes.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Eldermist Library Flatbread</p><p><br /></p><p>Ingredients:</p><p><br /></p><p>- 2 cups of finely sifted flour</p><p>- 1 teaspoon of salt</p><p>- 1 tablespoon of olive oil</p><p>- 1 cup of lukewarm water</p><p>- A pinch of dried herbs (such as rosemary or thyme), if available</p><p>- Extra flour for dusting</p><p><br /></p><p>Instructions:</p><p><br /></p><p>1. In a large wooden bowl, combine the flour and salt. If you have dried herbs, add them at this stage for added flavor.</p><p>2. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in the olive oil and lukewarm water.</p><p>3. Use a wooden spoon or your hands to mix the ingredients together until a dough forms. If the dough is too sticky, gradually add a bit more flour until it becomes soft but not overly sticky.</p><p>4. Knead the dough on a floured surface for about 5-7 minutes until it's smooth and elastic. This is a great opportunity to work out any frustrations!</p><p>5. Place the dough back in the bowl, cover it with a clean cloth, and let it rest for at least 30 minutes. This will allow the gluten to relax and make the dough easier to work with.</p><p>6. Preheat a flat griddle or a cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. You can also use a flat stone or an open flame if you're feeling adventurous.</p><p>7. Divide the dough into small portions, about the size of a large walnut. Roll each portion into a ball.</p><p>8. Roll out each dough ball on a floured surface into a thin, round flatbread, about 1/8 inch thick. You can use a rolling pin or your hands.</p><p>9. Carefully transfer the flatbread to the hot griddle or skillet. Cook for about 2-3 minutes on each side until it puffs up slightly and develops golden brown spots.</p><p>10. Remove from the heat and stack the flatbreads on a clean cloth to keep them warm and soft.</p><p><br /></p><p>Serve your flatbread with cheeses, dried fruits, and perhaps a simple herb butter.</p><p>I hope you enjoy this delight as much as I did.</p><p><br /></p><p>Until next we correspond,</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathorn Rophine </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">enchantment</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> to keep them coming.</span></p><div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-47805767184831059102023-09-19T19:30:00.018-04:002023-09-19T19:30:00.130-04:00Hathorn's Guide: Ishael' Past<p> <span style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the </span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" style="text-align: justify;">beginning</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> of these letters</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;">The 7th of Spann, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">My Palatable Patrons,</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">This morning we awoke with a rush and cornered Ishael about her words the previous evening. She reluctantly wove a tale from her past. I discovered deep secrets our little bard had previously held close to her chest. Secrets that make me fear the night here in Fairhaven. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">She wove us a tale of her hometown of Eldermist. Ishael grew up near a forlorn cemetery, shrouded in legends and superstition. This cemetery was known for its Weeping Willows. These were no ordinary willows trees. They actually whispered mournful tunes in the evening breeze. However, as Ishael relayed to us, beneath the somber beauty lay a chilling secret.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Generations ago, a malevolent spirit, the Echoing Wraith, had been imprisoned in an indestructible magical amulet by the town's most skilled bard. The amulet had been hidden in the roots of one of the Whispering Weeping Willows. The amulet bore an enchanting, yet haunting melody that served as a warning to the townsfolk. Each year, during the winter solstice, the melody would emerge, playing over the town at sunset, casting a deep melancholy over the inhabitants.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguYPGjBmWXfQ2UsGVnja690LxRhI8ajK9azPbPM9PKfH3CNRB4KNB4xCbtIl0jOPDAOjO84FEJd9ib11RIA3BpjnsTDVJEIb6WkzLfVQDYNQrjIo5iWPsOlPQCFI1tJsNMakh7BsIFlNLEXmVUevxnsFbTA1WmvVqzzWqvQUjCzRdHrGVh871B6ADUW510" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguYPGjBmWXfQ2UsGVnja690LxRhI8ajK9azPbPM9PKfH3CNRB4KNB4xCbtIl0jOPDAOjO84FEJd9ib11RIA3BpjnsTDVJEIb6WkzLfVQDYNQrjIo5iWPsOlPQCFI1tJsNMakh7BsIFlNLEXmVUevxnsFbTA1WmvVqzzWqvQUjCzRdHrGVh871B6ADUW510" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Those who succumbed to the sorrowful tune were said to be possessed by the Echoing Wraith, wandering into the darkened streets and their lives being taken by the wraith. It became a grim annual event, remembered with dread and grief. Over time, the bardic tradition of Eldermist evolved to include guardians known as "Melody Keepers," tasked with ensuring that the malevolent spirit remained trapped and the melody kept silent and unsung year after year.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Ishael's family had a legacy of Melody Keepers, and she was trained from a young age in the lore and arts of bards who protected the town from the Echoing Wraith. However, on her coming-of-age night, an unforeseen event occurred. The amulet was stolen by a mysterious rogue, and the Wraith and the Haunting Melody were released into the wider world.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Desperate to prevent the tragedy that had befallen her town in the past, Ishael embarked on a quest to reclaim the amulet and return it to its rightful place in the willows, silencing the Haunting Melody for good. Her father lost his life to the Wraith as he and Ishael found a cultist who had stolen the amulet in an attempt to free the Wraith. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">With the jewel returned and others trained to protect it and keep the Haunting Melody unsung, Ishael left her home to find adventure and forget the pain of her loss. Which brings her to this moment. This place. Nearly a thousand miles from Eldermist, the melody has found her again. Someone has stolen the amulet and brought it here. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">What, if any, connection it has with our bard, we promised her we would discover with her. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Ishael is fired up with the flames of vengeance, and it was all we could do to hold her back from rushing into the mayor's home to grill him for information.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I suggested we partake in a quick repast to ensure we are prepared to conquer the day ahead.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">This establishment has the most fascinating menu item. It is a drink made with frozen fruit and is truly a wonderful experience for the taste buds and is refreshing easy to make.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Daleforth's Moonlight Elixir </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglDDg0A0U27kTgOjLvxqeW-GUXaCdaldWMPayYOkx7ZJaydRMZNWaI8wpC51ad0hspFsoaVUJ7vRfulJSHX5KQh0gSk8lPWWX4Q0SC5y130Phsv31jPMwhIX4cCvqZNwV8YHo9zmJRe922W6CjzWMVaU9mBR8jqQES5ec4mE-HNmuem_GHZx9JLuNsx0wy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglDDg0A0U27kTgOjLvxqeW-GUXaCdaldWMPayYOkx7ZJaydRMZNWaI8wpC51ad0hspFsoaVUJ7vRfulJSHX5KQh0gSk8lPWWX4Q0SC5y130Phsv31jPMwhIX4cCvqZNwV8YHo9zmJRe922W6CjzWMVaU9mBR8jqQES5ec4mE-HNmuem_GHZx9JLuNsx0wy" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">*Ingredients:*</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup of freshly squeezed juice of your desired fruit</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 1 ripe banana</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- A handful of strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries- frozen through spells or enchantments </p><p style="text-align: justify;">- A cup of yogurt </p><p style="text-align: justify;">- A sprig of mint, ground</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cubes of ice, crushed and chipped- the same spell or enchantments used on the berries will work here as well. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">*Instructions:*</p><p style="text-align: justify;">1. Combine all of your ingredients in a sealable glass vessel.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">2. Stir the elixir, letting the flavors meld together in harmony.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">3. Once well mixed, seal the vessel and shake vigorously. Keep shaking beyond when you think you should stop. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">This will create an smooth and flavorful mixture that is refreshing and revitalizing.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Upon imbibing this draught, we found it improved our perception and agility. My awareness informs me that this boon will continue for at least the next few hours.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I hope you enjoy this as much as we have. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Hopefully, by my next letter we will have moved on and will be well on our way to slay the dragon.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Until next time,</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathorn Rophine </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">enchantment</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> to keep them coming.</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-84494066045940255782023-09-12T20:42:00.010-04:002023-09-12T20:42:00.131-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Haunting Melody <p><span style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the </span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" style="text-align: justify;">beginning</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> of these letters</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;">The 6th of Spann, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">My Delvers of Delicacies,</span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">Leaving those dreadful woods behind us, the party found ourselves stumbling upon a delightful town of Fairhaven. The town's eyes and ears turned toward us as we entered from the South at sunset. </span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">The golden hue cast over the town have it an ethereal glow. Modest houses and shops bustled with the activities of those ending their days. A young women with two small children in tow directed us to the nearest dining establishment- The Dull Wizard's Rest. A name who's origin I am determined to discover. </span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">The Rest stood near the center of town, next door to the largest home in Fairhaven. We later discovered it belonged to the mayor.</span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnaMalGvM4pZ9WRQvUAH6iwfLb8vi-M2tNrNYKMC2FPwPpAeIWose_-No6CEuJjOlbZPYd0UBGuFz2272DlMK0kMOx9GKB54Vb1au3kC7gkfVOPnrAR86gw7MUkbOc0dTqBtXQR8a1ISE85REvmzfugD-FwwiC1EUr19kkDAD1cpkwkduS24fZd_t0u5ZS" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a medieval mansion" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnaMalGvM4pZ9WRQvUAH6iwfLb8vi-M2tNrNYKMC2FPwPpAeIWose_-No6CEuJjOlbZPYd0UBGuFz2272DlMK0kMOx9GKB54Vb1au3kC7gkfVOPnrAR86gw7MUkbOc0dTqBtXQR8a1ISE85REvmzfugD-FwwiC1EUr19kkDAD1cpkwkduS24fZd_t0u5ZS=w400-h400" title="The Mayor's Mansion" width="400" />
</a>
</span></div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Upon entering the Rest, we were greeted by the usual tavern fare - lively chatter, tankards of sloshing ale, and the aromatic smells of a kitchen staffed by a skilled chef. </span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">But, something was missing. No music. No song and dance. Not even a drinking song. At first we thought it because this venue lacked a bard, but no sooner than Ishael had pulled out her lyre, than a half a dozen swords and knives had been drawn. </span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">The proprietor of the establishment, a Mr Prim Daleforth, a man of no small statue, told us that under no circumstances was music of any kind allowed in Fairhaven.</span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYAH5WcAm9J2TswHi-UNOxNpkoZzzMUvu5aeVSyeHSlcZHTBhv6WIb9pvzirl3tOUpf3_r6LoaTjbVAJs18v6Ea_JQ9CrLa347WCFAlfw2QLicco-u4oRxu4lqD0kTHKJQLYQpO4G8VqUCzyD2Vx8g9mzWgg1PrpR4ETFWIAF_uMgv4HqZTqxkcRm8bFDN" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a large bearded man" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYAH5WcAm9J2TswHi-UNOxNpkoZzzMUvu5aeVSyeHSlcZHTBhv6WIb9pvzirl3tOUpf3_r6LoaTjbVAJs18v6Ea_JQ9CrLa347WCFAlfw2QLicco-u4oRxu4lqD0kTHKJQLYQpO4G8VqUCzyD2Vx8g9mzWgg1PrpR4ETFWIAF_uMgv4HqZTqxkcRm8bFDN=w400-h400" title="Mr Prim" width="400" />
</a>
</span></div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Ishael launched into a scathing speech taking aim at those who would outlaw music. I thought her rant to be well spoken and passionate. </span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, it was for naught. The reason for their ban on music has no connection to any puritanical notions, but is entirely due to what the townsfolk have taken to calling "The Haunting Melody." He told of a melody that played at night. Those that hear it are drawn into a deep melancholy. In the most extreme cases townsfolk have wandered out into the wilderness beyond the town. Most of those that wander are found dead the next morning with their throats slashed by some wild animal.</span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">My readers, when I tell you that I have never seen Ishael speechless until this moment, I swear to you it is the truth. She grew pale at the mention of the melody. Her eyes grew wide and she collapsed into a nearby chair.</span></p><p style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: justify;">As we tried to pry from our unusually sullen bard some sort indication as to what was happening with her, she just shook her head. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;">An hour later, as we sat here eating a delightful mutton and potatoes roast, she spoke.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">As the last of the day's light winked outside, a soft melody washed in on the cool evening breeze. Ishael dipped her head low and whispered, "It's happening again." Then she burst into tears.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My friends, I must say, I had my doubts at the tales of this melody, but as its tones fell upon my ears, I fell into the deepest depths of sadness and malaise I have ever felt. I saw the same in the faces of my companions as well. The melody seemed to be calling to me. Calling me to the outside. As I stood, our little halfling bard placed her hand on mine and simply said, "Do not listen. Stay. You do not need to go into the dark."</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Seeing the piercing love and concern in her eyes, I remained with my companions. The song lasted for the better part of the hour, until finally fading into the distance. As it faded, we tried to pry information from Ishael to no avail. All she gave is was a promise of a tale in the morning as we break fast. As I write this, I don't know how I'll sleep knowing that someone in this town followed the haunting melody into the night and won't be returning home in the morning.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I am sorry, my readers, that I am not leaving you with a more heartwarming tale with this letter, but the recipe for Potatoes and Mutton will do just fine in the absence of sweetened words.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Mr Prim's Roasted Potatoes and Mutton</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 1.5 lbs of mutton, cut into chunks</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 4-5 medium-sized potatoes</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 2 onions</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 4 cloves of garlic</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 2-3 sprigs of fresh rosemary</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 2-3 sprigs of fresh thyme</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- Salt and black pepper, to taste</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 2 tablespoons of rendered animal fat (such as lard or tallow)</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup of homemade meat or vegetable broth</p><p style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 cup of red wine (optional)</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</p><p style="text-align: justify;">1. Begin by lighting your hearth or cooking apparatus and allowing it to reach a moderate heat. You'll require a large cast-iron pot with a sturdy lid or a heavy ceramic dish with a cover.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">2. Peel and chop the mutton into manageable chunks.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">3. Place your pot or dish over the fire, add the rendered animal fat, and let it heat.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">4. Brown the mutton chunks in the hot fat, turning them occasionally to ensure even browning. This process should take about 10-15 minutes. Once browned, set the mutton aside.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">5. While the mutton is browning, peel and slice the onions and garlic.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">6. In the same pot or dish, add the sliced onions and garlic, allowing them to soften and release their flavors.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">7. Return the browned mutton to the pot, arranging it evenly among the onions and garlic.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">8. Wash and peel the potatoes, then cut them into cubes.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">9. Add the cubed potatoes to the pot, mixing them well with the mutton, onions, and garlic.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">10. Tuck the fresh rosemary and thyme sprigs among the ingredients.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">11. Season the entire mixture with salt and a generous amount of black pepper.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">12. If you have access to red wine, pour it over the ingredients for added depth of flavor.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">13. Finally, pour in your homemade meat or vegetable broth to cover the meat and potatoes.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">14. Place a well-fitting lid on the pot or dish to trap the heat.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">15. Position the covered pot or dish in the hearth or over the fire, ensuring a moderate, consistent heat. Roast for approximately 2 to 2.5 hours, or until the mutton is tender and the potatoes are thoroughly cooked.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">16. Periodically check the dish, adding more broth if it becomes too dry.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">17. Once everything is cooked to perfection, remove the pot or dish from the fire, and remove the herb sprigs.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">18. Serve your roasted potatoes and mutton hot, savoring the rich flavors of this hearty and satisfying meal.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">From what my keen culinary senses tell me, this meal, if prepared right, will give you a resistance to cold and fortify your constitution for a whole day. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">I hope you get the chance to enjoy this robust meal on one of the upcoming winter nights.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Until next time,</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathorn Rophine </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">enchantment</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> to keep them coming.</span></p>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-82992932724862998212023-09-05T19:30:00.129-04:002023-09-05T19:30:00.128-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Silent Clearing<p> <span style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the </span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" style="text-align: justify;">beginning</a><span style="text-align: justify;"> of these letters</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-32fd9e58-7fff-7bc8-acf4-47bee514004a" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Tenth of Spann, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Dearest Relishing Readers,</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">We find ourselves out of the woods. Beyond the borders of the copse our timekeeping and spells have informed us that we are well into the month of Spann. Back home, I'm sure the farmers are preparing for their harvest as we leave the warmer months behind us. The Whispering Woods show no sign of the change as we enter the harvest season. No loss of green, no hint of the change as we grow closer to the snow and ice in the coming months as we near the end of the year. I cannot imagine how you must have feared for my safety in the absence of my letters for so long. I assure you we emerged from the woods unscathed.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Physically at least. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Before our exit from the woods we wandered aimlessly through the forest. Hearing voices and whispers in the darkness. Each of us heard something different from our past. None in our party shared what we heard, and I do not wish to burden you with my personal pain, but needless to say, I do not wish to revisit the jeers and calls from my past. Each of my companions responded in a similar manner. Whatever we heard pained us. It drew from our past fears. From our past pains. It was hell. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Then, it was silent. As we reached the clearing at the center of the Whispering Woods, we stumbled into a clearing and it was silent. And by silent, I do not mean the whispers stopped, I mean sound altogether ceased. No sound of the leaves crunching or twigs snapping beneath our feet. Total and complete silence. If you thought the constant whispering was unbearable, the silence was worse. We found ourselves unable to communicate. The silence bore into our brains. I witnessed Aliasbe screaming into the sky with not even the slightest sound emitting into the open clearing. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2fG19FP4yeOvZmD8E2C0BvVLe7JIHlvRSmKjTanJfIVeStk3ufsmSwUrTkn4r3hv8t761yZAWXhoeM2KbdqZMyUbBwN9WbuM-5y2rE8E-Mr1wTzIQ-qHtmkXFFeEVBFqZejYDAjJCTwwE3XAoT1Ug4xuIrK0t6cNJplJKaV7QtrQ3SjmyYhHW6iTQgwtv" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of Aliasbe screaming silently into the sky" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2fG19FP4yeOvZmD8E2C0BvVLe7JIHlvRSmKjTanJfIVeStk3ufsmSwUrTkn4r3hv8t761yZAWXhoeM2KbdqZMyUbBwN9WbuM-5y2rE8E-Mr1wTzIQ-qHtmkXFFeEVBFqZejYDAjJCTwwE3XAoT1Ug4xuIrK0t6cNJplJKaV7QtrQ3SjmyYhHW6iTQgwtv=w400-h400" title="Aliasbe screaming in vain" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">I fear the silence would have overwhelmed us (I know I felt my grasp on reality sinking rapidly) had it not been for our brave cleric. Selenar approached the standing stone in the center of the clearing and extended Meher's holy symbol toward the large gray monolith. At first nothing happened, but slowly hairline cracks appeared on the stone, branching and spiderwebbing down the face until the entire monolith shattered and crumbled into a pile of broken stone. As the final piece hit the ground, all sounds rushed back and washed over us in a cacophony of sounds. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaglgYOPBFuXgY5SGDgd6djkyB3agN1fW6IUXT3TIyWIq6wlchewblYk8YJqDt3ryhoRV_f8ke1RLrd7mC20WdxLUFLDKCzkUPAHcbuuhx9uG644tIXUPQ0VosGwVQtJHrTx5B6OWRCML8jmkFtsUWoskhoAjCI6245Z8_ohTdLAlm2CrOCFJVIJ3Dv_G0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a stone monolith in the middle of a clearing" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaglgYOPBFuXgY5SGDgd6djkyB3agN1fW6IUXT3TIyWIq6wlchewblYk8YJqDt3ryhoRV_f8ke1RLrd7mC20WdxLUFLDKCzkUPAHcbuuhx9uG644tIXUPQ0VosGwVQtJHrTx5B6OWRCML8jmkFtsUWoskhoAjCI6245Z8_ohTdLAlm2CrOCFJVIJ3Dv_G0=w400-h400" title="The Monolith at the Center of the Whispering Woods" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Bird song, a swift breeze, the sounds of my own body, and everything else came back in a blissful cascade. As we all adjusted to the return of sound, Selenar explained what they had done. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">The woods were cursed. The monolith, the whispering, and the silence was a trap to capture wandering adventurers such as us. Without Selenar's connection to their deity, I do not believe we would have been able to make it out. We are once again fortunate to have such a skilled cleric amongst our midst. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">With the breaking of the curse, our sense of taste returned as well. That, with our exit from the woods, gave us reason to celebrate. I offered to cook up a savory meal for us and Aliasbe provided a freshly killed deer for our meal. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Utilizing my collapsible kitchen and my culinary prowess, I prepared a fine venison meal for the party that will grant us a boon in our </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">I present to you, Hathorn's Venison Stew: </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 pound venison meat, cubed</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 tablespoons rendered animal fat</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 onion, chopped</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 carrots, peeled and chopped</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 parsnips, peeled and chopped</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cloves garlic, minced</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cups beef or game broth (I had some on hand, but you can make fresh with the venison on hand)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup red wine (substitute with additional broth if desired)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 teaspoon dried thyme</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 teaspoon dried rosemary</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- Salt and pepper, to taste</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup mushrooms, sliced</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup turnips or potatoes, peeled and cubed</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">1. Heat the rendered fat in a large cauldron or cast iron pot over an open fire or in your hearth.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">2. Add the cubed venison and brown it on all sides. Remove the meat and set it aside.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">3. In the same pot, add the chopped onion, carrots, and parsnips. Sauté them until they start to soften.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">4. Stir in the minced garlic and cook for another minute or two until fragrant.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">5. Return the browned venison to the pot and pour in the beef or game broth and red wine.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">6. Add the dried thyme and rosemary, then season with salt and pepper to taste.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">7. Cover the pot with a lid or use a wooden cover and let the stew simmer over lower heat for about 1-2 hours. The venison should become tender.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">8. After the initial simmer, add the sliced mushrooms and cubed turnips or potatoes to the stew.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">9. Continue to simmer for an additional 30 minutes to 1 hour, or until the vegetables are cooked and the flavors have melded together.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">10. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Serve and enjoy this hearty meal that will enhance your clarity and vigor. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Until our next time, </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathorn Rophine </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" target="_blank">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</p></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-71196588386260281922023-08-29T19:30:00.036-04:002023-08-29T19:30:00.137-04:00Hathorn's Guide: Into the Woods<div style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning</a> of these letters</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-32fd9e58-7fff-7bc8-acf4-47bee514004a" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The ? of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">My Dearest Delvers of Culinary Delights,</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">The Whispering Grove is devious. For an unknown number of days we have wandered. Aimlessly. My pocket watch spins wildly, and Selenar's timekeeping spell proves useless, as does Aliasbe's normally keen awareness of nature. We are all befuddled. Tempers run high and we are all at each other's throats. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5M_LQRciyiz3l2xcyaYMMuFQWCAcZrxNsy-A425JBCwLVm-I-qXBcENIgVCn2U_vQbSAfrQJrW6m70GunAh3GqXIYv2ILUxA6z79J0CgivWkVzwPhGpuocM88TwqvBJ3GAP3VqSgVVgZYsCtaptjr76UYUIIjfu2rt-tGEQQOc60cvmKZmhKFNT3izwi5" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white ink sketch of a pocket watch" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5M_LQRciyiz3l2xcyaYMMuFQWCAcZrxNsy-A425JBCwLVm-I-qXBcENIgVCn2U_vQbSAfrQJrW6m70GunAh3GqXIYv2ILUxA6z79J0CgivWkVzwPhGpuocM88TwqvBJ3GAP3VqSgVVgZYsCtaptjr76UYUIIjfu2rt-tGEQQOc60cvmKZmhKFNT3izwi5=w400-h400" title="Hathorn's Pocket Watch" width="400">
</a>
</div><br><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Not even Ishael's attempts at revelry raised our spirits. Her voice fell flat, as did her antics. She attempted to play a series of escalating pranks on Dathor, only to end up with his ire and a bruised ego. An enraged barbarian is one thing, an enraged barbarian of Dathor's intelligence and even temperament is on another level. I wish it upon no one. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">No light breaks through the canopy.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">No sound but the whispers of the forest. The woods seem to mute even the sounds of our party, as if it disagrees with our very intrusion and presence in the dark recesses of the woods. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">We take a night's sleep when we're tired, but we have no way of knowing if it is truly day's end. Every moment is blending into the other. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">My readers, I fear we are lost. I fear we are losing ourselves in the woods. I fear I will lose myself into the whispers. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Even our food has lost all flavor. No matter the recipe or the spice, none of us can taste. Not wanting to waste any of our flavorful foods, I have been preparing a basic oat gruel for our meals. I will share with you a favorite recipe of mine in hopes you have a more enjoyable dining experience than I have had these past several meals...</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">This recipe was learned at the countertops of our cook at my family home. Mrs. Shaelfrock. She taught me much of what I know. I owe a great deal to the lessons from her in that kitchen.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">So, in hopes you may experience this meal as intended and not as the bland gruel we've been consuming, I present to you!</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Mrs. Shaelfrock's Oatmeal with Berries and Honey</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup rolled oats</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cups water</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- A pinch of salt</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 cup mixed berries (such as strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries- I highly recommend avoiding barberries and billberries- really anything that might poison or kill you with improper preparation)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 tablespoons honey</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- A sprinkle of ground cinnamon (optional)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">1. In a medium-sized pot, bring 2 cups of water to a boil over an open fire.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">2. Add a pinch of salt to the boiling water.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">3. Stir in 1 cup of rolled oats and keep the pot only partially over the heat. Let the oats simmer for about 5-7 minutes, stirring occasionally until they reach your desired consistency. The oats should be creamy and tender.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">4. While the oats are cooking, wash and prepare the mixed berries. Cut the larger berries into bite-sized pieces if needed.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">5. Once the oatmeal is ready, remove the pot from the heat. Stir in the mixed berries and let them sit for a minute or two to warm through slightly.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">6. Drizzle the oatmeal and berries with 2 tablespoons of honey and give it a gentle stir to incorporate the sweetness.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">7. Optionally, sprinkle a little ground cinnamon on top for extra flavor and aroma.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">8. Serve the oatmeal with berries and honey in wooden bowls or ceramic dishes.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU3lGrB5PKAoEHkIQX8Z9lF63I5dZxWpZQFGLC9WgjKO7_ZGoKj7yINjBG0uydsJnwu3zenevT_l9YsqySwkbv7kRSXe6CLqi7gY3R55x3kxxH0228p1ZLJI87hmXr-b7bTr_PN_OGtraGgHOWBtrbJzcYnxuPmDFKGMxR7CHThY9sIzsK_rd_JlVtCmI5" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white sketch of a bowl of oatmeal with berries" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU3lGrB5PKAoEHkIQX8Z9lF63I5dZxWpZQFGLC9WgjKO7_ZGoKj7yINjBG0uydsJnwu3zenevT_l9YsqySwkbv7kRSXe6CLqi7gY3R55x3kxxH0228p1ZLJI87hmXr-b7bTr_PN_OGtraGgHOWBtrbJzcYnxuPmDFKGMxR7CHThY9sIzsK_rd_JlVtCmI5=w400-h400" title="The Oatmeal" width="400">
</a>
</div><br><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">I hope you enjoy a warm and satisfying breakfast fit for whatever adventure awaits you! (with the exception of wandering in the Whispering Woods like us fools).</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">As Always Flavorfully Yours,</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathorn Rophine </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" target="_blank">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</p></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-81993525229343522382023-08-22T19:30:00.083-04:002023-08-22T19:30:00.128-04:00Hathorn's Guide: On the Edge of the Whispering Grove<div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning</a> of these letters.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Twenty-Sixth of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">My Decedent Patrons,</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">We have traveled close to 150 miles of woodland and fields, and now rest outside the Whispering Grove. Beyond this verdant enclosure is a straight track to the Southern Spire. Many old adventures and back room gossipers speak of this wood in hushed tones. None of the tales shine a positive light on the hidden shadows walking in the ever present twilight beyond the edge of the Grove.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQbF0QaRK3pvpArOnutbjKRJExWONXt1mPc8ZxNTKpsKCXY1mdUYnIXQ2Sygf91BqYxeLh8m2CfiitNuoczpcl7AIGbLMBXKEUzWxPKzzuPqE66iI_6tFdkzB3-QC41Io1CcbrooNQzZH-SHKJyIjZg7I6feaXQpdOqcp1oZj34VaoQrRsAKMVCoDu46py" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white ink sketch of an ominous forest" border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQbF0QaRK3pvpArOnutbjKRJExWONXt1mPc8ZxNTKpsKCXY1mdUYnIXQ2Sygf91BqYxeLh8m2CfiitNuoczpcl7AIGbLMBXKEUzWxPKzzuPqE66iI_6tFdkzB3-QC41Io1CcbrooNQzZH-SHKJyIjZg7I6feaXQpdOqcp1oZj34VaoQrRsAKMVCoDu46py=w640-h360" title="The Whispering Grove" width="640">
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">I fret that we may encounter creatures and frights beyond our skills. Dathor and Aliasbe exude confidence in consoling me on our impending trek through the dark forest. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">As we set up camp, for even with their fortitude, none of our party wish to venture forth at night. None of the sunset bleeds into the dark forest. I swear the shadows dance waiting to snag us when we enter. As Selenar built our fire, I set up my kitchen. I knew we would need a meal fit for the finest dining halls. Fit for an emperor. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">Ishael and I skirted along the edge of the forest picking herbs that grew abundantly along the outer rim of the woods. I harvested a plethora of mint, thyme, and sage. The scent was ethereal. I would have held them to my nose and lost myself in the scent if Ishael had not tugged my sleeve, dragging me back to our encampment. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">Upon our return, I set to making our meal for the night. I figured that entering a magical forest is a perfect opportunity for a whimsical and enchanted meal that complements the setting. I would love to introduce you to my "Harmonious Herb Pies." These savry hand pies will be filled with a delightful blend of the herbs we harvested on the outskirts of the Whispering Grove.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi15hDJD8U0gyX-Qw83Sr0rcRTZYBxEQS03RnW99M6_TBCIXV0RsPHGA5nFuVxRCZeGbcLAINOeIOKHbKLEdSTXGgXwwn2tGY_c7GDtw4lziYh9DIrInmOVoDbNZC5YsxNSbwXCmhSn08dUtDpEydE9SBoCZYi3m9dD6whaa78h1r-ElFcbLhMjDCK6zhST" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="A black and white image of herbs growing from the ground" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi15hDJD8U0gyX-Qw83Sr0rcRTZYBxEQS03RnW99M6_TBCIXV0RsPHGA5nFuVxRCZeGbcLAINOeIOKHbKLEdSTXGgXwwn2tGY_c7GDtw4lziYh9DIrInmOVoDbNZC5YsxNSbwXCmhSn08dUtDpEydE9SBoCZYi3m9dD6whaa78h1r-ElFcbLhMjDCK6zhST=w320-h320" title="Herbs" width="320"></a></div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1"></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">Hathorn's Harmonious Herb Pies:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">For the filling:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup mixed herbs (such as Mint, Sage, Thyme as we picked here, but whatever you have on hand should be fine)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 small onion, finely diced</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 tablespoon butter</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 cup broth of your choice of stock- we had vegetable on hand </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- Salt and pepper to taste</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">For the pastry:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 1/2 cups finely sifted flour (you can use a mix of wheat and nut flours if you desire)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 cup butter, chilled and cubed</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/4 cup cold water</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 teaspoon sugar</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">- A pinch of pixie dust (optional, it will make your pastries light and fluffy, and maybe levitate as well)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">1. For the filling, sauté the diced onion in the butter until translucent. Add the mixed herbs and cook for a few minutes until fragrant. Pour in the vegetable broth and simmer until the mixture thickens. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Let the filling cool completely.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">2. For the pastry, combine the flour, chilled butter, sugar, and pixie dust (if using) in a mixing bowl. Use your fingers to rub the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Gradually add cold water and knead the dough until it comes together into a smooth ball.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">3. Ensure your oven or fire is adequately warm before by starting your fire now. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">4. Roll out the pastry on a floured surface and cut it into small circles or other fantastical shapes if you desire.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">5. Place a spoonful of the cooled herb filling onto one half of each pastry shape. Fold the other half over the filling and press the edges to seal the pies.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">6. Transfer the pies to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">7. Optionally, you can brush the pies with a beaten egg for a golden and glossy finish.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">8. Bake the pies for 20-25 minutes or until they are golden brown and emit a heavenly aroma.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">I hope you find these Herb Pies to your liking. As you enjoy them I hope it transports your mind to the sounds, smells, and sights of the mystical forest.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;">Your Noble Traveling Chef,</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">Hathorn Rophine</span></p></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" target="_blank">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.<br></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-34679835326212526572023-08-19T18:47:00.006-04:002023-08-19T19:04:12.915-04:00Short Story: The Game<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYVegg9hfofuFIP3lTOtgPtvLfLKJhiz9VkJFduaFb9ClSQJwivwRS8QjG60JRUXCk-9uJFvPlbxXGTLG0QK8vGLIj2XQaAfi6aN_5vL47NcmSZG-MaXF_8K9XIigblHhtyyopGl_FnVBFC44TMmhf8fg1-zDrr-ebPfJTBEEi2zbGlsMsmK9BpeVf5RD9" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A pastoral field with the text The Game in gold letters" border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYVegg9hfofuFIP3lTOtgPtvLfLKJhiz9VkJFduaFb9ClSQJwivwRS8QjG60JRUXCk-9uJFvPlbxXGTLG0QK8vGLIj2XQaAfi6aN_5vL47NcmSZG-MaXF_8K9XIigblHhtyyopGl_FnVBFC44TMmhf8fg1-zDrr-ebPfJTBEEi2zbGlsMsmK9BpeVf5RD9=w640-h360" title="The Game" width="640">
</a>
</div><br><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy's chest burned as he sprinted through the forest.
Trees and foliage blurred as he ducked and dodged arrows cast from the bandits
in pursuit of him. Moving from muscle memory, he knew every rock and root to
step on to keep them at a safe distance. Finding a familiar bend in the rutted
path, he turned and sprinted up the hill toward a thin spire of white smoke
drifting up from a clearing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Help! Help!" He shouted as he burst through into
the open area.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A lone warrior with a thick mass of black hair and bearded
face, dressed in scuffed leather armor, stood, drawing his longsword from his
scabbard. His eyes darted from Timothy to the woods as the bandits burst forth.
The man raised his sword, preparing for battle.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyzSptnaZNLYLveCzIdVPkLEZSc5iHIYxyLKIglmsxSJpvOeqXJ8Z_Cpqeg4Rb8hSHOIQ-KCpN0fwnEIS67t1-gf2MU9xdY48wjMraOYjRiyZbgMlcqVgjKT6ELP__oCyDYA8hBiuWmoQBJwaGr_hfvPuWlwoc7fOS2r50KS1rnwLAuXAIbz-McMbpHi3F" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
<img alt="A bearded warrior in armor" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyzSptnaZNLYLveCzIdVPkLEZSc5iHIYxyLKIglmsxSJpvOeqXJ8Z_Cpqeg4Rb8hSHOIQ-KCpN0fwnEIS67t1-gf2MU9xdY48wjMraOYjRiyZbgMlcqVgjKT6ELP__oCyDYA8hBiuWmoQBJwaGr_hfvPuWlwoc7fOS2r50KS1rnwLAuXAIbz-McMbpHi3F=w240-h320" title="Patrick" width="240">
</a></div><br><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Help me, and I'll make sure you get paid well,"
Timothy shouted as he ran to the man.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You? Pay well?" The man grunted. "I highly
doubt it, but this should be fun, regardless." He raised his sword and
rushed headlong into the oncoming bandits.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy watched in awe as the warrior routed his opponents
with parries and strikes with the broad side of his blade. He toyed with the
bandits until he disarmed them all, forcing them to retreat into the woods.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"And tell your leader to stay away from now on!"
He shouted at their retreating backs.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I will never grow tired of seeing that," Timothy
said.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Oh, you often see a pack of wild bandits turned away
by a sellsword?" Before Timothy could answer, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">the man removed his leather
glove and extended his hand, "My name is Patrick. Welcome to my
camp."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Timothy. I'm Timothy but my friends call me Tim."
He shook Patrick's hand enthusiastically.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Tim. That's a good name, boy. Come sit. You look
tired." He gestured at the fire and motioned for Timothy to sit.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As he took a place on a log across the fire from Patrick, he
took in the camp in full. Between them, hanging on a ramshackle tripod, a small
pot bubbled with a thick brown liquid of broth, vegetables, and questionable
meat. A pitch-black horse grazed nearby, unfazed at the recent battle, simply
munching on nearby sweetgrass. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7qmmH0d8xeyMlbB0j2ofWpuoYRuc2lRZ9jKcpWf5eX6jLXWACRKL191e02s8Ne-WEgqGkAjF4WA1oa_pf9nPUseAYb00ccZ1-_XWBXTaUV5_3_SyTZRYqEbRX_QisfmSArucBS4M0nAHyn9etJK_1kwvanEdPrYn-QojinqZ765JSLsAQIUFwjMXxVsE-" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black horse in a serene meadow" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7qmmH0d8xeyMlbB0j2ofWpuoYRuc2lRZ9jKcpWf5eX6jLXWACRKL191e02s8Ne-WEgqGkAjF4WA1oa_pf9nPUseAYb00ccZ1-_XWBXTaUV5_3_SyTZRYqEbRX_QisfmSArucBS4M0nAHyn9etJK_1kwvanEdPrYn-QojinqZ765JSLsAQIUFwjMXxVsE-=w400-h225" title="Patrick's horse" width="400">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"What brings a boy like you into these woods? It's
dangerous here, as I'm sure you've come to realize." Patrick stirred the
pot.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm seeking to restore my family name."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Oh really," Patrick raised his eyebrow, "and
what name is that?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Can I trust you?" Timothy asked in a monotone
voice.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I think those running bandits should be evidence
enough that you can trust me, lad," Patrick said, producing two wooden
bowls and large crude metal spoons.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"True enough," Timothy said, taking a steaming
bowl of the stew and a spoon, "My full name is Timothy Swiftwater."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Of the Houndholde Swiftwaters?" Patrick whistled.
"Impressive. It'd be more impressive if any of them were still
alive."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I am the last son of Harold Swiftwater," Timothy
looked deep into the fire as he spoke, "I am on a quest to avenge my
father's death and reclaim my rightful place at the head of the Council of
Houndholde."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP-dgePCnDH-sJf4txcElalCy5rTIE8WoNp5-GbOiU86Rmei9VxZ-nR6v41-RV2ON0NiOcYZYp2ueR2smrwb8KEfeINaxHavEz4Hl4FZayIFRjGq8yNIXQWvtp8OWSJQ-Qu2SkCer1y1W240Cq15pI8oDm9jT9jWH4PhnmKBYRZSNRtXWqQ8gHFJwFM8bK" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A young boy in fantasy attire" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhP-dgePCnDH-sJf4txcElalCy5rTIE8WoNp5-GbOiU86Rmei9VxZ-nR6v41-RV2ON0NiOcYZYp2ueR2smrwb8KEfeINaxHavEz4Hl4FZayIFRjGq8yNIXQWvtp8OWSJQ-Qu2SkCer1y1W240Cq15pI8oDm9jT9jWH4PhnmKBYRZSNRtXWqQ8gHFJwFM8bK=w240-h320" title="Timothy Swiftwater" width="240">
</a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Ahhh. A boy on a grand adventure, then?" Patrick
sipped at his stew with the bowl raised to his lips, forgoing the use of the
spoon. As he brought the bowl down, flecks of meat and soup remained in his
thick beard.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy brought a spoonful of the stew to his mouth and
chewed slowly on the meat that was more gristle than actual meat. It was warm
and bland, but quite filling. "It feels like that sometimes, but what I do
is more of a necessity than anything else," he replied.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Here, have some more." Patrick dumped another ladle
full into Timothy's bowl.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Thanks." Timothy took another bite. "You don't
seem like a sellsword."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"What makes you say that?"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Well, you have a nice horse that looks to have cost a nice sum and a camp that looks like it's been
lived in for a while. You don't strike me as the mercenary type."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"That's true. I'm a freeholder, actually. As a matter
of fact, I knew your father and your grandfather." Patrick slurped more of
the food into his mouth as the bowl disappeared into his beard. He chewed for a
moment before continuing, "When your father took over, I swore allegiance
to him. As far as I'm concerned, Harold was a fair lord, even if his father was
a scoundrel."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"And here I thought that my Swiftwater ancestors had
conquered everyone that they ruled." Timothy said, taking another bite of
the stew.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Your grandfather was the conqueror. Your father, on
the other hand, was a man of honor." He paused, wiping wet soup and bits of
meat from his beard, "This land aches in his absence."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"I am the only one that can restore it to its former
glory."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"That's a tall order for a boy of your age."
Patrick said, "Not that I don't believe you. I have a few questions<span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> though."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Fire away."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"How old are you, Tim?"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm fifteen, but I've been training with the blade
since I was a young boy."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I see." Patrick nodded, "And how do you plan
on taking back your birthright?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"By presenting myself to the Outland clans. They once
supported my father before cutting ties with the rest of the civilized
world."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"And you believe they'll back your claim?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I plan to appeal to them on the vows they once made to
my family- to my father- and return to Houndholde with an army."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"That's a tall order for a bunch of warrior clans
living on the edge of civilization. Do you know why they abandoned the known
world and set out for the edge of what's known?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I've heard tales that their seers foresaw the fall of
magic and the abandonment of the old ways."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I've heard much the same. <span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">There have also been
tales of great heroes that have recently turned to the worship of the old gods.
I suspect that they're the same, but who knows?" He finished his bowl of
stew and set it aside, "Still, that's quite a plan you've got there. I
hope you succeed."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I don't want to be seen as a beggar," Timothy
said with a quiver to his voice, "but I would appreciate it if you would
accompany me on my journey. I will pay well for your services. Join me on my
quest."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Sorry, my lad, I can't take you to the Outlands. I can
only take you as far as the edge of the Burning Wilds, but no further."
Patrick stood and looked at the sun low above the treetops, "It's a long
journey to the edge. We should light out soon to get a good start. We'll want to
make camp well before nightfall. The Wilds do not like trespassers."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Really?" He couldn't hide his excitement.
"Do you think you could escort me the entire journey? I can pay well. I
still have access to much of my family's wealth, and more so when I retake my
throne."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Unfortunately, I can't escort you, lad. A few days
from here is the border of where I can go. I am vowbound to these lands. I
can't go beyond, or else the magic will burn me from the inside out."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"I see. I'm sorry." Timothy bowed his head in
disappointment.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Don't be sorry, Tim. I'm sorry I can't take you the
entire way." Patrick nodded and turned to attend to the horses.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Thank you for everything." Timothy said, standing
and opening his pack to retrieve a small pouch of gold. He tossed the pouch to
Patrick who caught it deftly in one hand. "I hope this will be enough to
repay you for your hospitality and service."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"It's more than enough, lad. Much more than you should pay
me." He looked toward the woods. "Come, Tim, let's take flight before
the sun gets much higher."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy nodded and took a deep breath. This was the first
step in his journey. He strapped his things to the horse and looked to the
woods. In the distance he could see the faint outline of the far edge of the
woods, outlined by billows of sickly gray fog. He took another deep breath,
shouldered his pack, climbed onto the horse behind Patrick.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They traveled quickly and aggressively, pushing the horse
faster than Timothy thought one would normally travel, but Patrick did not seem
concerned. Timothy found it difficult to keep track of the woods as trees and
brush flew past, but he was always eager for what came next as he held tight to
Patrick as they flew through the woods accompanied only by the echo of the hard
gallop.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The sun's light began to fade as the two made to the Burning
Wilds. The trees thinned as they approached the edge of the wood, and Patrick
picked up the pace. As they broke through the tree line a bleak landscape of
barren waste rose to greet them. Patrick halted their progress at the line
where the green of the forest stopped at the red and black sand of the land
before them.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Burning Wilds.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Scorched Earth.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnpOoFPoxYtHiTNvOm6jf-_OKyRrTVXpFBrTfNNudb9yJrHynt6Ahs2lWg5v3IImX8eres5PtXvfFUZ0kwQElsxAUMfR_LQ-v7iFPrdLfpOAt-zqHTRgRYCDQJYpmXBWFKf4fYnfe2xAvIzNn1O5hyr6HmtYPajDktFJ6aHirT_xyQE0uqvpktMmYlYm9F" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnpOoFPoxYtHiTNvOm6jf-_OKyRrTVXpFBrTfNNudb9yJrHynt6Ahs2lWg5v3IImX8eres5PtXvfFUZ0kwQElsxAUMfR_LQ-v7iFPrdLfpOAt-zqHTRgRYCDQJYpmXBWFKf4fYnfe2xAvIzNn1O5hyr6HmtYPajDktFJ6aHirT_xyQE0uqvpktMmYlYm9F" width="400">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Behold, lad, a testament to the fickle nature of the
gods. Legend says Nimther blighted this land after the first men betrayed the
old gods in favor of Nimther's children. He cast his own daughter, Dydia, down
from the Sky Forge and cursed her corpse to corrupt this land."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Skip, please," Timothy said dryly.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Patrick paused a blank expression on his face briefly before
he dismounted and gestured for Timothy to do the same.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"In case you're wondering, we're sending my horse back
home, she'll find her way fine, but she's too much weight for the sands of the
Wilds. You and I can make it fine, but a beast of her stature would not do well
with the terrain."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy nodded as he slid down the side of the mare.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"If we push through the night, we'll make safe ground
by dawn." He gazed at the sun, low on the horizon, "If you're
wondering why we're making this trek at night, it's because during the dark,
we'll have warning before the ground belches flames at us. It's much safer.
There might be more creatures out at night, but we won't be caught off guard at
a surprise pillar of fire." He removed a satchel from the bags on his
horse and patted her on her haunches. Walking to her head he touched his
forehead to her nose and said, "You go safe and swift. I'll be home
soon."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At those words, the mare turned and sprinted back through
the woods, galloping toward Patrick's camp. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Do we have to set out now? Can we wait a bit before
entering the Wilds?" Timothy asked, looking up at Patrick.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"No, lad, we must go now. We can't tarry."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"So much for choice," Timothy mumbled.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"If you want to wait, you can choose to do the Wilds
without my help. I'm not bonded to help you. You're free to go."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"No. No. I don't want to do it alone." Timothy
shook his head and continued, "Let's do this."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Patrick nodded and shouldered his satchel, "Stay close.
We'll stay in the cover of the rocks as long as we can, but as the terrain
changes, we'll need to leave that cover and make a fast run to cover before any
ground catches fire. We don't want to be caught in any of the plumes."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy followed Patrick's lead into the Burning Wilds. They
traveled for what felt like ages, but Timothy knew it was only about an hour
until they reached the first edge of the mountains. The ground was rocky and
uneven, forcing the pair to slow their pace as they walked along the base of
rocky outcroppings from the blackened ground.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A dull red glow appeared around the edges of the boulder
they crept around.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"That's not good." Patrick hissed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Time to climb," Timothy said.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Right," Patrick raised and eyebrow at his
companion, "Climb. Up on this stone. Fast." He laced his fingers and
nodded to the boy, "Here, I'll boost you up." Timothy planted his
foot on Patrick's hands, and Patrick tossed him up in once swift motion.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As Timothy landed, he splayed his arms and legs out,
gripping hard at pits in the top of the boulder to keep from slipping to the
side. Within a moment, Patrick joined him atop the stone and sat beside him, as
Timothy settled and rolled to his back, looking up at the smoke obscured sky,
only the brightest of stars peeking through the perpetual haze of the Wilds.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The glow surrounding the boulder grew brighter and brighter,
until the earth parted only a few steps from where they had once stood and
spewed forth a pillar of black smoke and red flames. Tim felt the heat on his
face and hands and closed his eyes against the brightness. The plume lasted
only a moment before subsiding, but as it stopped another spot nearby repeated
the same pattern.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><br></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxYnHxmCDEdtWIQuIbT5a4emJr_r51AqaCpx3Yta5TtafMjxMuzM3mUuiEwuQ1SLhwDZjbUaVCBWPxjXuIzYMk4OueEz-nXitmDuc5E7PDOCeNUVh23NeitLpfI-KjQuSGXuTYxuiqjOiB9QgbuS4FGjIWHbLq9G6ezEHuDexrIJbDsoF5q1SjIT9HcA8-" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A flame dancing above a black rock" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxYnHxmCDEdtWIQuIbT5a4emJr_r51AqaCpx3Yta5TtafMjxMuzM3mUuiEwuQ1SLhwDZjbUaVCBWPxjXuIzYMk4OueEz-nXitmDuc5E7PDOCeNUVh23NeitLpfI-KjQuSGXuTYxuiqjOiB9QgbuS4FGjIWHbLq9G6ezEHuDexrIJbDsoF5q1SjIT9HcA8-=w113-h200" title="The flames of the waste" width="113">
</a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Glow.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Burst.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Smoke.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Flame.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Stop.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As it ended, another repeated.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Rinse, wash, repeat," Timothy muttered.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"This'll last the better part of an hour. Once the
fires move further away, we can continue, but for now, just enjoy the
show."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They both laid back on the stone, staring at the sky, where
only the brightest stars peaked through the haze.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"See that star?" Patrick pointed to a white dot to
their left.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLpyveXxFrFUAhjSI7cN5wlEQ6He4xO35DgJXGPWbdbK6EEFUM5cPci3cyg_gkmEqbFVBcD-NSyPFuV35jlg1hN0ogpOEbjmLT3rgdOaGCxogRStEGC6XuHevYIT0m8knJGnA2VzVCY9GCxlbSJ1FYOPoFPLFcdg3f9d7pJPX2q-3wOHUDdBdApcuF8qRE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A lone star in a cloudy sky" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLpyveXxFrFUAhjSI7cN5wlEQ6He4xO35DgJXGPWbdbK6EEFUM5cPci3cyg_gkmEqbFVBcD-NSyPFuV35jlg1hN0ogpOEbjmLT3rgdOaGCxogRStEGC6XuHevYIT0m8knJGnA2VzVCY9GCxlbSJ1FYOPoFPLFcdg3f9d7pJPX2q-3wOHUDdBdApcuF8qRE=w400-h400" title="Abris" width="400">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Yes," Timothy said with a hitch in his voice.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"That is Abris, the Old Storyteller."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Your god," Timothy said as his eyes welled up.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Why, yes. Yes. I do serve Abris. She has served me
well in my years of life. Do you know much about the stars?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"My father and I used to sit in the fields, looking at
the constellations. He would tell me their stories and I'd listen to him for
hours."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"He was a good man, and I'm sure he'd be proud of the
man you are becoming."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Thanks," Timothy said as tears fell down his
cheeks. He quickly wiped his face and sat up, watching the bursts of fire
flicker in the distance.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"One thing," Patrick sat up as well, "I've
learned in my years of devotion to Abris is-"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm not up for hearing this now," Timothy closed
his eyes tight.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Well, I think you need it," Patrick reached a
hand to the boy's shoulder, "so listen up. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"I learned from Abris that there is always a choice. No
matter the situation, no matter how trapped you feel, you always have a choice.
Even now, you have a choice as to how you react to this experience. It's a bit
cliché, but you can become the flame or the ember."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">Timothy opened his eyes, not ready to listen but unable to look
away.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"You can pour yourself into this, this… this event and make
it a defining moment of your life, the point at which your life ended.
Or-"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Or, I can just let it be an experience. One experience. I
can take it and use it to grow, to move on."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Right," Patrick paused and cocked his head to the
side before continuing, "I suppose. You don't have to believe me, but I'm
telling it how I see it. I've lived a long time, longer than you could possibly
imagine. I've lived through so much, seen so much. I have seen countless men,
women, and children die, so many that I couldn't possibly count them all."
He paused for a moment and shook his head. "I've seen so much, but I've
seen only one thing as common as life. I've seen hope. I've seen death and
despair but I've seen hope as well. I've seen it on the faces of men as they
mounted their horses against impossible odds and won. I've seen it in the eyes
of a mother as she cradled the body of her child, taken from her by plague. I've
seen it on the lips of lovers, who have given everything to each other, even as
the scythe came for them." He laughed gruffly. "The scythe always
comes for us, my friend."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Then what? What do we do when we have nothing left? All the
hopes and dreams are gone, snatched away. What do we do?"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"We keep hope. We keep hope in our hearts that we
haven't seen our last sunset, that there is always something more. In my life,
I've kept hope, and I do so still. I hope that one day I'll see peace come to
our lands. I hope that one day I'll taste bread, or a sweet, or beer, or
anything made with love, made with care. I hope that I see my friends and
lovers again, even the ones I killed. And, boy, I hope that I see you
again."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">Timothy bowed his head at those words.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"And, I hope that you become the crest of the wave. I
hope that you become that spark that will burn your way through the darkest of
times. I hope that you become that ember that grows, that glows, that burns
bright and sets others aflame. I hope you have a good long life."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Thanks," Timothy said, and turned away to look
back up at the smoky sky. "It's time to go," he whispered.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Patrick peered over the edge of the boulder, surveying the
charred land as Timothy knelt beside him. He clapped a hand on Timothy's back.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Right you are, boy. How'd you know that?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Just a lucky guess," he stood and stretched his
back. Patrick raised his hand, and Timothy took it, gripping it tight as they
slid down the side of the rock.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The ground was charred black, and the underlying rock
underneath jutted forth in the spots that were spared the fire's wrath. The
acrid air stung Timothy's nose and welled tears in his eyes. Patrick pulled two
strips of fabric from a pouch, wet them from his canteen and tied one around
his face, handing the other to Timothy. Without instruction, he tied it loose
around his face. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8mhIKwi48BCo0nIkRcKo7o-fcFMgKpoeqZxrLoRmCznPs3GJ_fOexddaVzB-AnS3ibXZCeDErYiK0V5WFjvZeELE3fksLyeBczJoJKXHVTlIL7tShb3B5m3cEUAKDVkbgTHrCqhsjT9h1ZLH01ZrSvl0QH2Gm-09Q2PptYiYpfy5MXb-ApZiK6nR3_bWU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="Blackened sand on the waste" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8mhIKwi48BCo0nIkRcKo7o-fcFMgKpoeqZxrLoRmCznPs3GJ_fOexddaVzB-AnS3ibXZCeDErYiK0V5WFjvZeELE3fksLyeBczJoJKXHVTlIL7tShb3B5m3cEUAKDVkbgTHrCqhsjT9h1ZLH01ZrSvl0QH2Gm-09Q2PptYiYpfy5MXb-ApZiK6nR3_bWU=w320-h320" title="Black sands" width="320">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"There's not much time, let's get moving," Patrick
said as he turned back to Timothy and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As they walked, Timothy kept his eyes on the ground,
watching where he placed his feet, but he paid attention to the world around
him. He watched the tendrils of smoke rise into the air and dissipate, only to
be replaced by more. He listened to the calls of birds, the croaking of toads
and the scurrying of animals in the underbrush, each trying to find shelter
from the flames. He breathed in the air through his makeshift mask and felt his
head clear.<span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> His stomach and throat calmed, and he no longer felt like he
might vomit at the slightest hint of a smell.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The pair walked at a slow pace, and made good time,
unimpeded by the flames. After only a short while, the mountains loomed before
them, the bones of the earth, girders holding the sky aloft. As they approached
the rock, the smoke and fire in the distance thinned and then disappeared
amongst the trees and boulders. The pair jogged, Timothy matching Patrick's
long strides. The edge of the Wilds drew quickly upon them.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At the edge, Patrick stopped. His feet stuck on the black
basalt stone stopping abruptly at the edge of the green beyond the Wild. Timothy
continued past for a few feet before stopping to look back, tears streaming
down his face. He walked back to Patrick, standing on the green before Patrick,
then crossed over and held him.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Please. Come with me. Come with me this time,"
Tim begged.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Patrick separated the two of them, pushing Tim, easing the
boy toward the edge. Timothy crossed again outside the Wilds. The grass beneath
his feet green and lush, the breeze cool and gentle, scented with the sweetness
of summer. The sun shone above, sending its warming rays down onto him, bathing
him in the light. Timothy lifted his face to the sky and closed his eyes, tears
flowing freely down his face. He felt Patrick lean in close to whisper in his
ear.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'll stay here until you're out of sight. You have a
duty. You have a purpose, and I need to know that you'll do it. Will you?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"But, Patrick, you don't understand-"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"You good lad, just know I'll be waiting for your return.
When you come back to claim your birthright, I'll be waiting for you, and by
Abris, I'll escort you into the Great Hall of your ancestors myself." He
beamed with pride at the young boy.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"But, you don't understand. That's not what
happens," Timothy tugged at Patrick's shirt, "If you stay, or if I go
back with you, bad things happen. By the time I return, you're dead. They kill
you to motivate me to finish everything. You're just a pawn."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigab73iyrnsIhvhFIrp8pPvgVSKMAgP0q86d-Emdzqag504S3tTSAntdBUNWyow-SASpDmv9KP1LVpcUK0TtLhj64RO_lKQh-nd2zOHmHlZh5BN22jenwtt5hW3h7FbiTDD0duSDpQhg-p0Af7XjbNp-jlob1iZrr5JjewoT8P8K3iLf-dorjMFLx79NCO" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A sad young boy in fantasy attire" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigab73iyrnsIhvhFIrp8pPvgVSKMAgP0q86d-Emdzqag504S3tTSAntdBUNWyow-SASpDmv9KP1LVpcUK0TtLhj64RO_lKQh-nd2zOHmHlZh5BN22jenwtt5hW3h7FbiTDD0duSDpQhg-p0Af7XjbNp-jlob1iZrr5JjewoT8P8K3iLf-dorjMFLx79NCO=w300-h400" title="Timothy" width="300">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Are you a seer, boy?" Patrick laughed. "No one but
the gods can know the fates-"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Would you just shut up!" Timothy yelled. He shook with
rage as sobs wracked his small frame. "It's not fair. It's just not fair.
You look just like him, and it's just not fair."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Lad, what in Abris' name are you going on about?"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy fell to his knees, unable to keep his composure and
sobbed as loud wails rent from his lips, echoing into both the woods and the
Wilds. He crawled forward, back to Patrick.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Timothy
chanted over and over again. He held tight to Patrick's legs, looking up into
his face, "Please stay. Please don't go. I don't want you to go. I can't
say goodbye again."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"I'm sorry, boy," Patrick said as he pulled Timothy up
and hugged him tight, "but I can't stay."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;">"Please, Patrick, don't leave me. Please."</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in;"><br></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy's sobbing wracked his body as he clung to Patrick
tight, like a child to its mother. He continued to cry, tears falling and
soaking the shirt of the sellsword. Patrick held the boy tight and whispered
into his ear, "I'll always be here. You are the crest of the wave, now,
Tim. You are that spark that will burn your way through the darkest of times.
You will always be here with me." He squeezed the boy, holding him tight.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Don't leave me, dad. I can't do this without
you."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Timothy," Patrick looked him in the eye,
"I'm not your father, but I know he would be proud of you. There's no
doubt in my mind of that. You bring him honor and honor to your family."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I can't do this. I can't lose you again."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"This is where we have to part, or if you're not ready,
you can return with me. The choice is yours, Timothy."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"No," Timothy's voice dropped as he spoke, a flat
monotone expression, "No. I never had a choice, and neither do you. It's
so unfair that you look like my dad. I miss him so much." Before Patrick
could respond, Tim stood, tapping his ring finger three times against his thumb
on his right hand.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Suddenly, the world slowed to a stop. Frozen in time. No
sound echoed across either the lush woods or barren Wilds. The black smoke
frozen in a thousand fractals as it spiraled into the red sky. Timothy looked
skyward and wiped the tears from his face.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Menu," he spoke into the emptiness. In front of
his eyeline, a glowing green word appeared, hovering over the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4r86LZAk-Mbiw6Z_heQmXdv3QorqY3mzcts8InMSM_hUKCGA92ff-q4vTcI6FxHJ6fiPYmfW0gsHWli4lxBTmlAd-6yypQG_whuA_-yxQoEYlgZAhiALVpX9PQgSJGXQkImOjLEvrTcPMNgvsbh5XoTfjMO3-iAARM0v9qaceF_UBRlnSshCTfXZLw7_e" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A glowing menu text hovering over a field" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4r86LZAk-Mbiw6Z_heQmXdv3QorqY3mzcts8InMSM_hUKCGA92ff-q4vTcI6FxHJ6fiPYmfW0gsHWli4lxBTmlAd-6yypQG_whuA_-yxQoEYlgZAhiALVpX9PQgSJGXQkImOjLEvrTcPMNgvsbh5XoTfjMO3-iAARM0v9qaceF_UBRlnSshCTfXZLw7_e=w400-h225" title="Menu" width="400">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He waited as it cascaded into wall of green text, then li</span>fted his right hand and hovered over the word <i>Save.</i> The floating text cascaded into a list of files.
Tim pointed at the text reading <i>New Save.</i> A chime
echoed in his ears.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><br></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Game saved," a crystal-clear woman's voice said
from the sky as the floating text scrolled page after page of save games until
it reached the end.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tim's hand hovered over the option reading <i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Load Previous Save.</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"><br></span></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I miss you, Dad," he whispered as Patrick, the
Wilds, and the lush wood dissolved into a pixelated jumble, fading into black
before reforming into the hill leading to Patrick's camp. Tim stood at the
bottom, wiping the tears from his face with his sleeves. Frozen behind him like
a museum display were the bandits in various still poses with axes raised and
swords drawn.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A blue transparent ball flickered before Tim chiming a low
bell tone, cacophonous in the silence. Tim swiped his hand through it and the
tone ceased.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Tim," his mother's voice wafted gently from the
glowing orb, "Tim, it's Mom. The school called. I guess you didn't make it
in today. Baby, I miss him too, but you can't bury yourself in that game. It
won't... It can't replace him. I'm on my way home. Maybe we can talk a bit when
I get there, just know I love you, baby." With a chime the blue orb
disappeared, leaving Tim alone in the frozen silence. He puffed his chest and
inhaled deep.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Okay, let's do this again," he said as he tapped
his finger and thumb three times unpausing his game.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Timothy's chest burned as he sprinted through the forest.
Trees and foliage blurred as he ducked and dodged arrows cast from the bandits
in pursuit of him. He smiled as he knew he would find Patrick exactly where he
should be as he rushed toward the camp.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhczrMaCsjZP7aLEMbclM-EwEZBf59VvKHdQgLeUH-TMZqVzhYkpmzybcJ0yR2vO4Mz3DxhSCPbrIW7qQVSegBVqKqVZyku04pZ5OJRxvN9pKWIqaQFrlTp76YoE9H0gbL6_H7vqEJrvjAulvL08-M0oFQnmmfqsXEseHJLQfyEWXkKTOCz6NZ95m5icwj6" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="The End text hovering over a field with a mountain range in the background" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhczrMaCsjZP7aLEMbclM-EwEZBf59VvKHdQgLeUH-TMZqVzhYkpmzybcJ0yR2vO4Mz3DxhSCPbrIW7qQVSegBVqKqVZyku04pZ5OJRxvN9pKWIqaQFrlTp76YoE9H0gbL6_H7vqEJrvjAulvL08-M0oFQnmmfqsXEseHJLQfyEWXkKTOCz6NZ95m5icwj6=w400-h225" title="The End" width="400">
</a>
</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="text-align: justify;">By the way if you enjoy me sharing my stories like this and want to show your support, feel free to toss me a tip on </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="text-align: justify;" target="_blank">Kofi</a>. If you can't do that, consider sharing my stuff on social media. Also, comment here or on social media to let me know what you thought about this story. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Thanks for reading</span><span style="font-size: medium;">.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">-<span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Anthony</span></span></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-21583764508419173052023-08-15T19:30:00.020-04:002023-08-15T19:30:00.126-04:00Hathorn's Guide: New Abilities<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>If you're new, you might want to start at the </span><a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning</a><span> of these letters.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-4f9e90bf-7fff-ba21-bd12-a44d158ed8b1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Seventeenth of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Oh, readers, an amazing thing happened in the past few nights, my companions and I have honed our skills and have discovered ourselves able to do things we were not aware of until this moment. We've observed and achieved this over the past week, through various means- meditation, books, prayer, or practice just to name a few. Selenar believes our recent encounters have sharpened our senses and enabled us to access these enhanced abilities. Over our campfires, we've taken to exploring and exposing upon our newfound talents.</p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJ2adixrte0a46Ns1nJ2aRQrmWHiUquzbdmpnsyLtZihzZvfUfcyd7V_0dpqWvCKtw4jnZb82SCSBcweT6zYoKS8nmqqphZUGav6rUP-JJu6lOHx3afRKwR0N7ULZrsygo-fMNeNLuVpv1fZYGWnH44HtM7ffWwgR04DswQvYGxlZNf6SMqvLt21JiK4n7" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="An ink drawing of a glowing campfire" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJ2adixrte0a46Ns1nJ2aRQrmWHiUquzbdmpnsyLtZihzZvfUfcyd7V_0dpqWvCKtw4jnZb82SCSBcweT6zYoKS8nmqqphZUGav6rUP-JJu6lOHx3afRKwR0N7ULZrsygo-fMNeNLuVpv1fZYGWnH44HtM7ffWwgR04DswQvYGxlZNf6SMqvLt21JiK4n7=w320-h320" title="The Campfire" width="320" />
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Dathor and Aliasbe believe that our recent battles and their constant sparring have grown them as warriors. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Whatever the case, we find ourselves with new skills and abilities.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Dathor has found he is now able to sense hidden dangers, and he has a new technique to try in his next fight where, as he puts it, he will "throw aside all caution as he attacks." I am keen to see this new battle strategy from him.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Aliasbe, has found during combat training with Dathor she has gained the ability to push herself past her limits and attack a second time before her he has the opportunity to respond with his own attack. She dances with her swords the way a flame encircles an ember. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ishael has written a new song that she plays as we rest, and it gives us an even greater boon than resting would normally. It is truly an amazing feat.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Selenar has discovered they now have greater access to the goddess Meher. They also have hinted that they have gained the ability to frighten the undead. I hope we never have to discover the extent of that ability.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">And finally myself. I have grown in my culinary expertise. I find that I am better able to discern ingredients in meals. I dare say I am almost to the place where I will no longer have to beg or barter my hosts for their secret recipes. With enough luck, I will be able to deduce the intricacies of meals all on my own. With more training, in my humble opinion, I expect my culinary expertise will be unparalleled. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">As we all chatted about our new abilities, I decided we deserved a treat, so I whipped up a batch of campfire bread. It's a recipe hundreds, if not thousands, of adventures have made throughout the years gathered around their fires, and enjoyed in the company of friends.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Campfire Stick Bread</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cups well sifted flour</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 teaspoon salt</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 tablespoon honey (or any other sweetener you have available)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 cup milk (you can use cow's milk or as I've found, the liquid pressed from ground juiabi nuts makes a passable alternative)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 2 tablespoons melted butter</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- Water</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- Yeast (wild yeast or cultivated yeast from a local brewer/magician)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- Clean sticks stripped of the bark </p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">1. In a mixing bowl, combine the flour and salt. Mix well to ensure the salt is evenly distributed.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">2. In a separate small bowl, dissolve the honey in warm milk. Add a small amount of yeast to the milk mixture and let it activate for a few minutes until it becomes frothy and bubbly.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">3. Slowly pour the milk mixture into the flour mixture while stirring continuously to form a soft, slightly sticky dough. If the dough is too dry, add small amounts of water until it reaches the desired consistency.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">4. Knead the dough for a few minutes until it becomes smooth and elastic.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">5. Divide the dough into small portions, about the size of a goblin's fist.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">6. Take each dough portion and wrap it around the tip of a clean, wooden stick, pressing gently to secure it in place. Smooth the dough evenly around the stick to form a thin layer of bread.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">7. Place the sticks with the dough over the campfire, rotating them occasionally to ensure even cooking. The bread will rise and cook relatively quickly, so keep an eye on it to prevent burning.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">8. Once the bread turns a golden brown and feels firm to the touch, it's ready. Carefully remove it from the stick and let it cool slightly before serving.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Optional: For an extra touch of flavor, you can brush the cooked bread with melted butter (or a flavored oil) and sprinkle a pinch of your favorite herbs or spices on top. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Enjoy the warm, freshly baked bread and the camaraderie around the campfire!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU8cm3EDx3kqdZ55cQx5VTD2FWCbnDDg5H7B_qvSa9PS7SfNg4HYdRDLJTz1eO1fhAPepYdCZa6PFeukKvXPp3jd3HDm7IdRfygHsoesYN5KnDgzxuxzRANtR0T0moUtY5xg31bG9PgOCL31yQ4bhBrfCuxXMJVszcU7EPpswyLbREakDFhDPK6X2D3-7B" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="The Campfire Bread" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiU8cm3EDx3kqdZ55cQx5VTD2FWCbnDDg5H7B_qvSa9PS7SfNg4HYdRDLJTz1eO1fhAPepYdCZa6PFeukKvXPp3jd3HDm7IdRfygHsoesYN5KnDgzxuxzRANtR0T0moUtY5xg31bG9PgOCL31yQ4bhBrfCuxXMJVszcU7EPpswyLbREakDFhDPK6X2D3-7B=w320-h320" title="A black and white ink drawing of a loaf of bread" width="320" />
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Until the next flavorful adventure,</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">Hathorn Rophine </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" target="_blank">enchantment</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;"> to keep them coming.</span></span></p>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-4927271569120789662023-08-08T19:27:00.004-04:002023-08-09T01:37:34.060-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Odd Fellows' Emporium<div style="text-align: justify;">If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning</a> of these letters</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-32fd9e58-7fff-7bc8-acf4-47bee514004a" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Fourteenth of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">My Faithful Patrons,</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">We are now five days out from Dawnmaw, well rested and making great time. We did have to make a hasty exit from the Maw. The Venton matriarch discovered my deception and was not pleased with the knowledge I gained from her cookbook. We beat a swift retreat from their home, but before we left the Maw, we tried our hands at the Odd Fellows' Emporium.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">The twins, Gaff and Gadd, who run the place have stocked their store with all sorts of wares. And with our extra coin recently, cost was no prohibition when it came to acquiring new supplies and equipment.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Aliasbe found herself a bag of holding- an item we very much were in need of. She also procured quickening gauntlets. According to Gaff, these will enhance her strikes. Gadd also provided an enchantment at no extra cost that allows the gauntlets to color match whatever armor or outfit Aliasbe happens to wear.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Dathor has eschewed conventions once again and bypassed the weapons. He continues to usurp what I think of when I think of barbarians. He claimed he had no need of new armor or weapons, so he bought a puzzle box from the brothers. This is no ordinary puzzle box though. Once he manages to open it, Gaff promises that the secret inside will be one that will surprise, delight, and aid our fearless leader. Dathor has vowed to try and solve it everyday.</p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbm5KJIPWnXju2VZB2Pp1ruFawu-rdVmBGAFb05oJmOvdm3geCy_AHTAdK2nss7vOFGBILPvSCN1rYjJ52-kJtx944H8-yehuO3Mkj5D_-uAt7dBcFZ1YAHRuXd7VBD9Qj7TQuCbCIKuj6KUewaEkhmmSALNSWpHFmrhajm6DgKQ1p18cKDGd0x103S6wy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbm5KJIPWnXju2VZB2Pp1ruFawu-rdVmBGAFb05oJmOvdm3geCy_AHTAdK2nss7vOFGBILPvSCN1rYjJ52-kJtx944H8-yehuO3Mkj5D_-uAt7dBcFZ1YAHRuXd7VBD9Qj7TQuCbCIKuj6KUewaEkhmmSALNSWpHFmrhajm6DgKQ1p18cKDGd0x103S6wy" width="400">
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ishael found some sheet music she ensures us we will find enchanting during our travels. She also found a feathered cap that, at first, I thought was too absurd to wear, but the lovely little bard manages to pull it off. Gadd claims it will help with Ishael's performance when singing, but I don't see how.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">As for me, I am delighted by my purchases, I managed to buy a collapsible kitchen. Through some arcane enchantment a full kitchen- cabinets, pantry, countertops, oven, and a full set of pots and pans has been compressed into a pendant on my neck. I simply set the pendant on the ground and speak the activation phrase and it burst fourth into a full size kitchen. This might be my favorite purchase ever and I'm excited to use it on the trail. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">If you're ever in Dawnmaw, I cannot stress enough that you need to visit the Odd Fellows' Emporium. It will delight you and I'm sure you will find something to your liking. </p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjT2t_Dp9QHnk_D1wgelTet7kVQVaCYNflA3c7LxM-78Ea3SfADfe5Xbb4EwkyKY2e1dcRTNd7hwx9oaRRkUaMvS03yEokakoDwMjzm8Pruf9AI17oNf0U3M1TsHEoQUwDNptqHU0uBH61fN6y_S7wGWkHOmxrQm7IdDZf69yTW5712gAaL915_lm1U8dNT" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjT2t_Dp9QHnk_D1wgelTet7kVQVaCYNflA3c7LxM-78Ea3SfADfe5Xbb4EwkyKY2e1dcRTNd7hwx9oaRRkUaMvS03yEokakoDwMjzm8Pruf9AI17oNf0U3M1TsHEoQUwDNptqHU0uBH61fN6y_S7wGWkHOmxrQm7IdDZf69yTW5712gAaL915_lm1U8dNT" width="400">
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">With any luck we will be at the Southern Spire within a month and a half facing the dragon and I can share with you my review of the stew. I thank you for keeping your faith in my journey and I look forward to continuing to guide this culinary excursion with you. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">I will leave you this letter with a quick treat we picked up from the brothers on the way out of their store. It is a delectable combination of corn and spices.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">The Odd Fellows' Market Corn</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 4 ears of fresh corn</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/4 cup butter, softened</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/4 cup soured cream</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/4 cup crumbled mild cheese</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 tablespoon finely chopped coriander leaves</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1 teaspoon powered chilis</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 teaspoon dried and powered garlic</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- Juice of 1 lime</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">- Salt and pepper to taste</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">1. Begin by preparing a fire or a grill in your cooking area.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">2. Peel back the husks of the corn, but leave them attached at the base. Remove the silk strands from the corn and carefully pull the husks back up to cover the corn.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">3. Place the corn on the hot grill or directly over the fire, turning occasionally, for about 10-15 minutes or until the husks are charred and the kernels are tender. Remove from heat and set aside to cool slightly.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">4. While the corn is cooling, prepare the butter mixture. In a bowl, combine the softened butter, cream, crumbled cheese, chopped coriander leaves, chili powder, smoked paprika, garlic powder, lime juice, salt, and pepper. Mix well until all the ingredients are fully incorporated.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">5. Once the corn is cool enough to handle, carefully peel back the charred husks to reveal the golden kernels. Leave the husks attached at the base for a rustic presentation.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">6. Spread the butter mixture generously over each ear of corn, making sure to coat all sides.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">7. Return the corn to the grill or fire, and cook for an additional 3-5 minutes, turning occasionally, until the butter mixture is melted, bubbly, and slightly caramelized.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">8. Remove the corn from the heat and let it cool for a minute or two. Sprinkle additional crumbled cheese, chili powder, and coriander on top for extra flavor and visual appeal.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">9. Serve the Market Corn while it's still warm and enjoy the magical combination of smoky, savory, and tangy flavors.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Indulge in this delectable corn recipe, and let its enchanting flavors transport you to the bustling markets of the Dawnmaw.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Flavorfully Yours,</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathor Rophine </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><br></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" target="_blank">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</p></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-74280013192928707112023-08-01T20:30:00.001-04:002023-08-03T15:23:15.580-04:00Hathorn's Guide: Dawnmaw<div>If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" target="_blank">beginning</a> of these letters.</div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Ninth of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My Dearest Readers,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Caprea was not what she appeared to be. The "tasty" runes on her pie were but a ruse. All of us, save Selenar (I believe their elvish heritage protected them somewhat), succumbed to a great drowsiness. From what I gather, Ishael tried to woo the witch even as she fell asleep. Selenar used deception and was able to feign unconsciousness as the witch prepared the final pieces of her trap. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As Caprea left the room, Selenar leapt into action, reviving Aliasbe and Dathor first, then Ishael. They neglected to revive me at first, I'm sure because the timing did not allow. If I had been awake for the battle, I am positive my companions would have valued my contribution to the encounter. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As Ishael recounts the scuffle, Dathor and Aliasbe were able to defend from Caprea's attacks as Selenar blasted the woman with holy light from their staff. Ishael claims that her taunts and insults were of aid as well, and after being on the wrong end of her cutting words, I have no doubt. After Caprea's defeat, they woke me and we searched the house. In the basement we found evidence of sacrifices to the witch's dark god and a young man of no more than 20 summers caged. I assume he was to be the next sacrifice.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He was a stonemason's apprentice named Aethel. A kindly young man with a handsome face, he was all too grateful for our rescue. We procured a few trinkets, some gold, and I ransacked the cupboards to restock my spices. Better free than whatever exorbitant cost a trader would force upon me. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxMRkYmKGceqtEsOTzg2glqJvUg4YaWzZji9Vy45vV4_r7N6Cr8v6arprUK0yf7E4LcQMQenKCl5jyLHp5skEUQq6u4-Ec_ahSlN_1eS41ViaAaU0tDebHn4Rv9uKrmgNea2UFBKSWq1QAXaX3g8JxBgoZgd_qqleV6JMZ3B5zipw1UWV5rpzvI0ap7NA4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white sketch of a young man" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxMRkYmKGceqtEsOTzg2glqJvUg4YaWzZji9Vy45vV4_r7N6Cr8v6arprUK0yf7E4LcQMQenKCl5jyLHp5skEUQq6u4-Ec_ahSlN_1eS41ViaAaU0tDebHn4Rv9uKrmgNea2UFBKSWq1QAXaX3g8JxBgoZgd_qqleV6JMZ3B5zipw1UWV5rpzvI0ap7NA4=w400-h400" title="Aethel" width="400" />
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Aethel journeyed with us to Dawnmaw and led us to his home. His mother was very glad to see him returned safely. She thought he was off training with the Master Stonemason the previous day. So glad she was that we returned her son to her, she offered us bed and board for the night. I was reluctant at first- wanting to stay at a finer establishment- that was, until I spied her well stocked kitchen and an aromatic bubbling pot above the fire. Any qualms I had were dissolved once she informed me that it was her family's recipe for Chicken and Dumplings. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She refused to part with the recipe, but I had Ishael "convince" the young apprentice to grant me access to his mother's cookbook late at night. Ishael can be quite convincing when she wants to. I hope you enjoy this scrumptious dish as much as we did.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Venton Family's Secret Chicken & Dumplings</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">For the chicken:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1 whole chicken, cut into pieces</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 4 cups chicken broth</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1 onion, diced</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 2 carrots, diced</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 2 celery stalks, diced</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cloves of garlic, minced</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1 bay leaf</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1 teaspoon dried thyme</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Salt and pepper to taste</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For the Dumplings:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 2 cups finely ground and sifted flour</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1 tablespoon soda ash</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1/2 teaspoon salt</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 1/4 cup unsalted butter, chilled and cubed</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- 3/4 cup milk</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Fresh parsley, chopped (for garnish)</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- The Secret Ingredients:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- A pinch of Stardust Spice (harvested from the Stardust flower that grows near Dawnmaw and is a fascinating thing to behold. Looking into the flower at the right angle looks as if you are looking at the expanse of the heavens at midnight. It literally made the flavors dance across my tongue in a delightfully enchanted way)</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmFU841oNZql50z2srN3lCoJ4F_CNbBsSeaOKxiYn751xXO27G-9hH-Iwwx5uAuLt_pfP_j_DqOJl0tFQ2uxN91oA9QNX8Zc4RlCYoV4L0VuIlydNIEChUWxIv-z7bJ0PBUqcn_XqvM3f3oRRPUhvCD-tayKzKiW9o5l20K0PetxhvOpMs5avXi0EmEgVm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A flower that looks like it has stars in the petals" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmFU841oNZql50z2srN3lCoJ4F_CNbBsSeaOKxiYn751xXO27G-9hH-Iwwx5uAuLt_pfP_j_DqOJl0tFQ2uxN91oA9QNX8Zc4RlCYoV4L0VuIlydNIEChUWxIv-z7bJ0PBUqcn_XqvM3f3oRRPUhvCD-tayKzKiW9o5l20K0PetxhvOpMs5avXi0EmEgVm=w400-h400" title="A stardust flower" width="400" />
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">- A sprinkle of Pixie Flour (not harvested from actual Pixies! This is imported from the southern forest of the empire from the Pixie Fruit- it's shape and resemblance to a pixie is the reason for the name. This fruit is dried and ground into a fine flour. Sprinkling this onto your stews will cause it to thicken and hold the flavors).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Instructions:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. In a large pot, combine the chicken pieces, chicken broth, diced onion, carrots, celery, minced garlic, bay leaf, dried thyme, salt, and pepper. Bring the mixture to a low boil.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. Reduce the heat to simmer until the chicken is cooked through and tender, about 30-40 minutes. Remove the chicken pieces from the pot and set them aside to cool.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. While the chicken cools, prepare the dumplings. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and a pinch of Stardust Spice. Add the chilled, cubed butter and use your fingers to mix the butter into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs. Gradually pour in the milk while stirring, until a soft dough forms.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to about 1/4 inch thickness. Cut the dough into small squares or desired shapes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">5. Return the pot to a simmer and carefully drop the dumplings into the broth. Cover the pot and let the dumplings cook for about 15-20 minutes until they are cooked through and fluffy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">6. While the dumplings cook, shred the cooled chicken into bite-sized pieces, discarding any bones or skin that remain. Add in Pixie Flour to thicken and enhance to your liking.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">7. Once the dumplings are cooked, remove the bay leaf and stir in the shredded chicken. Simmer for a few more minutes to heat the chicken through. Adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper if needed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">8. Garnish with freshly chopped parsley.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Indulge in this extraordinary rendition of Chicken & Dumplings, elevated by the mystical essence of Stardust Spice and the magic of Pixie Flour. The flavors will transport you to a realm of wonder and delight, making this dish truly worthy of my culinary prowess.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Delightfully Yours,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathor Rophine</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this </span><a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";" target="_blank">enchantment</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> to keep them coming.</span></span></div><div><br /></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-4861927219205068262023-07-26T07:30:00.013-04:002023-08-03T15:22:05.667-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Wolves<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-41ead0ed-7fff-250a-3594-8ea0419411a9"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning</a> of these letters.</span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-41ead0ed-7fff-250a-3594-8ea0419411a9"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-41ead0ed-7fff-250a-3594-8ea0419411a9"><span style="font-family: "Cinzel Decorative"; font-size: large;">The Seventh of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr">Greetings Culinary Explorers,</p><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">I must say, while the celebration and debauchery of the previous night was enjoyable, this morning's after effects were not. Ishael was the least bothered by the inebriation of the night, as evidenced by her waking me with every ounce of buoyant jubilation the little bard could muster at sunrise. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Her morning songs, usually pleasant and uplifting, fell harsh upon the ears of our company as we ate a simple oat gruel made by Mrs. Toadfil. This meal was not something I would normally partake in, especially on our culinary expedition across the empire, but I feared this morning that there would be nothing else I could have set on my turbulent stomach. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">With our constitutions settled, the five of us bid The Pony and Berkline farewell as we set ourselves South. The first stop on our way to the Southern Spire is the bustling town of Dawnmaw. There is an emporium there unlike any other, and if we want to be prepared for our venture south, then we must be well stocked. Now I know some might say we should try and procure wares from the metropolis of Steepharbor, only a day's ride past the Maw, but the vendors in Steepharbor gouge their prices, especially when they see adventuring parties. So, with that in mind, we will settle for more reasonable prices at a quaint town.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Our journey out of Berkline would have been uneventful had we not stumbled upon a pack of large wolves attacking a fair maiden. As we came upon her, we found her surrounded by four large wolves.</p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjH7Ft_Q2b89pf410KlVkXhHJZ5og2l0k_jdnWv_fzgJYKvMozSo2RDdz8bYUTjLtErKcTnqeYNRStfICWiSc73-N_w3qs1_m44lHfx4RvgXfl0rikx97juZz4OX5fTfweJBalANTqsMEXa44yuqjFYAhXYmvonNtqiYxf9n96wzVoBP5x0qmO-7Od72jA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white sketch of a wolf bearing its teeth" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjH7Ft_Q2b89pf410KlVkXhHJZ5og2l0k_jdnWv_fzgJYKvMozSo2RDdz8bYUTjLtErKcTnqeYNRStfICWiSc73-N_w3qs1_m44lHfx4RvgXfl0rikx97juZz4OX5fTfweJBalANTqsMEXa44yuqjFYAhXYmvonNtqiYxf9n96wzVoBP5x0qmO-7Od72jA=w400-h400" title="Wolf" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Dathor and Aliasbe did most of the fighting as I barely was able to draw my rapier before that had scared off the beasts. Once the wolves were gone, I wanted to continue our trek, but Ishael charmed the woman, Caprea, into inviting us back to her house. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Caprea's cabin was not far off the road. She provided us with a hearty meal as thanks, but it was nothing to write about. On the other hand, the apple pie she made for us was to die for. As the evening progressed, I managed to pry the recipe from her, with a little help from Ishael's charm. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">As the night is progressing, I find it hard to keep my pen on the page, so I will leave you with Caprea's Apple Pie Recipe</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Ingredients-</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-2 cups finely ground and sifted flour</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-1/2 teaspoon salt</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-3/4 cup unsalted butter (chilled with a spell or freshly drawn cool water)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-4-5 tablespoons cool water</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-8 large apples of your variety of choice </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-¼ – 1 cup sugar</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-1 teaspoon rose flower water (optional)</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">-2 teaspoon whole cloves</p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Instructions-</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Heat your oven with a large fire.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, sugar, and salt.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Add the chilled butter to the bowl and use your fingertips to blend it into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Gradually add the water, one tablespoon at a time, mixing gently with a wooden spoon until the dough starts to come together.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Transfer the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead it gently until it forms a smooth ball.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Divide the dough into two portions, one slightly larger than the other. Wrap each portion in linen and cool for at least 30 minutes to allow it to chill and rest.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Remove one piece of dough and let stand until soft.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Lightly flour your work surface and roll out dough into a 12-inch circle. Then, wrap the dough around the rolling pin to transfer into a 9-inch pie pan. Unwrap the dough from the rolling pin into the pie pan, making sure the dough is form-fitted to the pan. Allow the dough to overhang the lip of the pan. Set the pie pan with dough to the side until it is needed.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Peel, core and quarter the apples. Cut the quarters into slices that are ¼ inch thick.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Retrieve the pie pan. Fill the pie by alternating layers of apples, sugar, rose water and whole cloves until pie is filled.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Roll the second piece of pastry dough into a 12-inch circle. Then, wet the bottom lip of the dough and place the top piece over the filling. Trim the dough so it is flush with the edge of the pie pan. Flute the edge or press with a fork to seal. With a knife, cut 4 slits on the top of the pie.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Place the pie in the middle of your oven rack. Bake until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbling.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Allow pie to rest 5-10 minutes before slicing.</p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">As an optional usage of spare dough, you can make designs on your pie. Our host left us an intricate series of symbols atop our pie. Caprea stated they are too enhance the flavor. Maybe before we leave I'll wrangle the details of that spell from her. </p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">Until next time, enjoy this delectable, magical treat that will surely leave your taste buds spellbound!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6eFuz7EMAANSyQX3BAIDTxljMzKD7-UIDsdlWzUNrUajTKajvW8XnxitkVDrrkpraZTrrvJdsVjHykXGGM7SxLpgTPVp4McnvikCmKUKXNCLqtxZsZjRsCLzYCKqXSCV11lI0iQMvnWTDW2PDnGgHJ3cGIZeK5K6bQcPC2_TG5TTlR1apM0_zgkY3XOuk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white sketch of an apple pie with an arcane symbol on the crust" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6eFuz7EMAANSyQX3BAIDTxljMzKD7-UIDsdlWzUNrUajTKajvW8XnxitkVDrrkpraZTrrvJdsVjHykXGGM7SxLpgTPVp4McnvikCmKUKXNCLqtxZsZjRsCLzYCKqXSCV11lI0iQMvnWTDW2PDnGgHJ3cGIZeK5K6bQcPC2_TG5TTlR1apM0_zgkY3XOuk=w400-h400" title="Enchanted Apple Pie" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p dir="ltr">As always, thank you readers for making this worth it.</p><br /><p dir="ltr">With Enduring Gratitude,</p><br /><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">Hathorn Rophine</span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: inherit;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites/">enchantment</a> to keep them coming</span></p>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-21120256682405742602023-07-18T18:59:00.001-04:002023-07-31T10:54:51.767-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Dragon's Lair<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning</a> of these letters.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Sixth of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">My Faithful Sponsors,</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">I wish I bore better tidings. The previous night's foray into the lair of the dragon was a fruitless excursion. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">Well, for me, perhaps, but not for my companies.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">For, you see, the dragon was not in residence. There were many Kobold warriors guarding the lair of which my companions made quick work of them. As we snuck into the lair we found an empty chamber. No dragon awaiting us, so once again I must delay tasting upon the dragon flesh. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">And while I say it was empty, that is not entirely true. There was a horde of gold and treasure. More so than any of us could carry, but I care not for those trinkets.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIU61zMNpM_uk37CeiIY2ZiJ71A9tLp-Lta1eF_mrVZvlueDaWT8w6u0cUHJtLNC9785BYRK8zCdC5ok7ZuqSN3pQGXyuiIDCG6YPDcjF7Jhq52ww1q3BB8oC1Z9WRoihi5ZrJJ-qv5MRDHSFqOJb2DTbuWl5BwrG1LEc6n-vlEDJ6IK-GIP6-3AQ1XgdB" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="The dragon's horde" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIU61zMNpM_uk37CeiIY2ZiJ71A9tLp-Lta1eF_mrVZvlueDaWT8w6u0cUHJtLNC9785BYRK8zCdC5ok7ZuqSN3pQGXyuiIDCG6YPDcjF7Jhq52ww1q3BB8oC1Z9WRoihi5ZrJJ-qv5MRDHSFqOJb2DTbuWl5BwrG1LEc6n-vlEDJ6IK-GIP6-3AQ1XgdB=w400-h225" title="A cave filled with gold and treasure" width="400" />
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">My companions, on the other hand, weighed down their pockets with all sorts of gold, precious stones, and even a handful of enchanted weapons. While they scoured about to enrich themselves, I investigated our true purpose, to divine where our dragon had gone to.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">All signs pointed to a recent departure from his lair, as we discovered from a Kobold seer who attacked me (I am forever grateful for Aliasbe's blades for dispatching the seer's hand from his body). Through techniques more imaginative than I would have given him credit for, Dathor pried from the seer the knowledge that the dragon, named Vorathix, has traveled to the Southern Spire to find a mate. After Dathor's unique and frankly disturbing interrogation, he cleaved the seer in two. I shudder to think of arriving on the wrong side of his favor and axe. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">After much deliberation, our party has decided to travel to the Southern Spire- each for our own reasons. Dathor for his honor, Aliasbe for the hunt, Selenar for duty to their goddess, and Ishael for "the hell of it," as she so eloquently phrased it. </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">But, in my deepest thoughts, I am convinced they all are just as intrigued as I at the possibility of consuming dragon meat.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">As we gathered as much treasure as we could, we backtracked out of the lair, out of the cave- Ishael saw the nymph again, but Aliasbe managed to keep our bard from wandering off again- finally, we arrived at The Frumpy Pony. The Toadfil's were unfazed that we were without the meat, but said they would not fund the next leg of our journey.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">Not that their sponsorship was needed now that we held part of a dragon's hoard.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">Our night at the Pony was a night of debaucherous revelry. The mead flowed a raging river. We all celebrated our newfound wealth and quest into the predawn hours. I do not recall what food we partook, but I was able to get Mr Toadfil to part with his mead recipe.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">I hope you enjoy with the company of your fellow companions in moments of celebration.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGwzUeGCjx2iZ8X0kPSE8a6QpAoAFy21sPrLhcFpq_3MMC5Y2IAjLwFHdIGnqn_OwkvQIKRJgQSU-46uw_jgKu7pscLdEoROZLKkZSN84TU8iZjWuLiLMDUjnUta6PutP3jYf5IhL0RBKsVTqdhpSyDgbft4agqs1D5kjPWdAzbfeWtrr_VzTvhLZaS7DY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A barrel of mead" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGwzUeGCjx2iZ8X0kPSE8a6QpAoAFy21sPrLhcFpq_3MMC5Y2IAjLwFHdIGnqn_OwkvQIKRJgQSU-46uw_jgKu7pscLdEoROZLKkZSN84TU8iZjWuLiLMDUjnUta6PutP3jYf5IhL0RBKsVTqdhpSyDgbft4agqs1D5kjPWdAzbfeWtrr_VzTvhLZaS7DY=w400-h400" title="A wooden barrel" width="400" />
</a>
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">May I present to you-:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">The Frumpy Pony 's Juniper-Infused Mead:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 4 pounds of honey (choose your honey wisely, it's best if you can find an apiarist you can have a friendship with)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 1 gallon of water</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 2 tablespoons of juniper berries</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 1 cinnamon stick (if the market price in your town allows this luxury)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 1 vanilla bean (see above note)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 1 teaspoon of whole cloves</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 1 pinch of yeast</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">- 1 cup of brown sugar (for priming, optional)</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">1. In a large pot, bring the water to a boil. Once boiling, bring to a simmer and add the honey, stirring until it dissolves completely.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">3. Add the juniper berries, cinnamon stick, vanilla bean, and cloves to the pot. Let the mixture simmer gently for 15 minutes, allowing the flavors to infuse into the liquid. Stir occasionally.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">4. After 15 minutes, remove the pot from the heat and let the mixture cool to room temperature. This step is important to ensure the yeast isn't killed by high temperatures.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">5. Once cooled, strain the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve or cheesecloth to remove the spices and any impurities. Transfer the liquid to a clean fermenting barrel.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">6. Sprinkle the packet of wine yeast over the liquid and gently stir it in. Cover the vessel with a clean cloth secured with a band to allow gas to escape while preventing contaminants from entering.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">7. Place the fermenting vessel in a cool, dark place and let the mead ferment for approximately 1 to 2 weeks, or until the fermentation activity slows down. This time can vary depending on the ambient temperature and yeast used.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">8. After fermentation is complete, you can optionally transfer the mead to a secondary fermentation vessel to clarify further. This step is not necessary but can result in a clearer mead.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">9. Now comes the juniper infusion step. Prepare a bundle of fresh juniper boughs, making sure they are clean and free from any contaminants. Place the boughs in a clean barrel.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">10. Carefully pour the mead over the juniper boughs, allowing it to rinse and infuse with their aromatic flavors. You can let the mead sit on the boughs for a few hours to overnight, depending on how pronounced you want the juniper infusion to be. Monitor the flavors by tasting periodically to achieve your desired level of juniper essence.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">11. After the desired infusion time, remove the juniper boughs from the mead, ensuring none of the branches or needles remain in the liquid.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">The below is optional. You can drink and serve from the barrel if you do desire.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">12. If you prefer your mead with a bit of zest, you can prime it by dissolving brown sugar in a small amount of water, boiling it to create a simple syrup. Let the syrup cool, and then add it to the mead before bottling. This will create natural zest and add effervescence to your brew.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">13. Bottle the mead in clean, sanitized bottles, sealing them with corks. Store the bottles in a cool, dark place for several months to allow the flavors to meld and the mead to age. The longer you wait, the better the flavors will develop.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">14. Finally, enjoy your juniper-infused mead with your companions, raising a glass to the adventures that lie ahead!</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;">Inebriatedly Yours,</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathor Rophine</span> </p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c80d7f16-7fff-d328-f67e-bc32b3e40bd9" style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this enchantment to keep them coming.</div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-10948831572686085662023-07-12T07:30:00.005-04:002023-07-31T10:54:04.070-04:00Hathorn's Guide: Into the Cave<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5a3ec05f-7fff-01eb-c0b6-a09d83566557">If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" target="_blank">beginning</a> of these letters.</p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5a3ec05f-7fff-01eb-c0b6-a09d83566557"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5a3ec05f-7fff-01eb-c0b6-a09d83566557"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Fourth of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-5a3ec05f-7fff-01eb-c0b6-a09d83566557"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Dear Culinary Explorers,</p><br /><p dir="ltr">The time has come. We stand but mere steps outside the lair of the dragon. The heat is nigh unbearable as is the stench of sulfur that stings every breath. At this depth, the cave walls glow with some moist luminescent covering that we have discovered to be edible. This was a pleasant surprise and a welcome boon for us as we faced the coming battle.</p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVlbY8f6NXRHdQdBCrYKUsQm2Ebcpe9J-zVVjPS0VEG6urYGi2BarfXtuBX4vDy_yrWzcY-ijpKUTpk1-gYZwNR0XzM1jg9eWO5OHDwnmFUWYWXPgJZsa0jkAnhSlovlwNv2mTJrGVwVWBeR8YLrMsUzHcka9ubbOIPjpjWmnd5CVixThLpgjrxSm97v3g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVlbY8f6NXRHdQdBCrYKUsQm2Ebcpe9J-zVVjPS0VEG6urYGi2BarfXtuBX4vDy_yrWzcY-ijpKUTpk1-gYZwNR0XzM1jg9eWO5OHDwnmFUWYWXPgJZsa0jkAnhSlovlwNv2mTJrGVwVWBeR8YLrMsUzHcka9ubbOIPjpjWmnd5CVixThLpgjrxSm97v3g" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr">Readers, in spite of what lies ahead, I have confidence in my companions. </p><p dir="ltr">They each prepare in different ways for the coming battle.</p><p dir="ltr">Aliasbe… allow me to paint a picture of our indomitable fighter- she meticulously inspects her armor. I questioned how such sparse armor would offer protection and was answered by a grunt and a leveling of one of her twin blades. Ah, her blades gleamed in the soft glow of the cave walls. As well they should, she spent hours sharpening them against her whet stone. She checks and rechecks her quiver and bow string. If not Dathor's axe that will fell the beast, it will be Aliasbe's deadly arrows. Aliasbe embodies the spirit of a warrior destined for victory.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ_QIJIan56VDtAkSFs-BA9t67zjUGMt3-ChQkX-jBR7btVzkPXegU1oCJiNQdmmlZSP0oGUN3jDyEKxceEYLl7bPQnxxLQaNOb_sw_nbgJfflOhA9A-Z1iPHq7Sb2VGXvt5sjYqccfXVWr4IIc-CHj8z3PQpD8Fak7eyNR8ku285JuqDs07Ip2qbogwoK" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ_QIJIan56VDtAkSFs-BA9t67zjUGMt3-ChQkX-jBR7btVzkPXegU1oCJiNQdmmlZSP0oGUN3jDyEKxceEYLl7bPQnxxLQaNOb_sw_nbgJfflOhA9A-Z1iPHq7Sb2VGXvt5sjYqccfXVWr4IIc-CHj8z3PQpD8Fak7eyNR8ku285JuqDs07Ip2qbogwoK" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p dir="ltr">My good friend Selenar prepares with a prayer to Meher. After invoking a divine blessing upon us, they don celestial hued robes adorned with the markings of Meher. Selenar's staff glows with the power of Meher. I am confident their faith and skill will bring us through alive.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbDuN66NG-pUf5kAi86dN9Bggo6lAxTrZmOOl6JzlR__iG_G33l398Ih7s-zKZjtBWu5FG-_XiXoZYS5KcCDAmhArqYQSqmLZyXLDM9AoOR1aOwUz2ijbnCGRU732a8qVdpn_W-OHZf1XcxYukcLdo2x7osjhavjzXJm4wMeWsbg7Ev0R1xI-JnfDA3G8x" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbDuN66NG-pUf5kAi86dN9Bggo6lAxTrZmOOl6JzlR__iG_G33l398Ih7s-zKZjtBWu5FG-_XiXoZYS5KcCDAmhArqYQSqmLZyXLDM9AoOR1aOwUz2ijbnCGRU732a8qVdpn_W-OHZf1XcxYukcLdo2x7osjhavjzXJm4wMeWsbg7Ev0R1xI-JnfDA3G8x" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p dir="ltr">Now, on to Ishael. She stands before us, diminutive in stature, but with an infectious energy that grabs hold of us all- even Aliasbe. With her honeyed voice, Ishael spins tales of valor and adventure, and some rather saucy romps that I am unconvinced are only yarns. Her songs lift our spirits and grab hold of our hearts and minds. In that darkened cavern, she shone like a beacon of hope.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwygzgiPFisnmydVqzwaJ9t0uxb9_rKbUN2tWF34SKOhTNrEHtIVouk_CX8aspoyNOKE1VfRlYeOUUmXx5Q3TkM63h74ToHrQia6BPGDgWnj3BerM_BnmA97Gmthn2bHEtUr92Q26keEonWH9GQpTvkqJ781jcYN6QD7TPFT8Y7ZseqWuA8ZuBSw8dZbZ6" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwygzgiPFisnmydVqzwaJ9t0uxb9_rKbUN2tWF34SKOhTNrEHtIVouk_CX8aspoyNOKE1VfRlYeOUUmXx5Q3TkM63h74ToHrQia6BPGDgWnj3BerM_BnmA97Gmthn2bHEtUr92Q26keEonWH9GQpTvkqJ781jcYN6QD7TPFT8Y7ZseqWuA8ZuBSw8dZbZ6" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p dir="ltr">Finally, there's Dathor. Our fearless leader. He is constantly prepared. His armor fastened and sword ready at all moments. He stands in silent repose before a patch of the glowing cave wall. The flickering blue and green cast dancing colors on his runic armor while he casts a silhouette of resolute spirit and fearless will. We find solace in his leadership.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKhVePJB_-0PICW5l7fAmRMXIj5md0V3q5nOr6N8Mzoyc2vYQ_NhXireqARXxFn-RILHdv3DQhNUN7Q3LrocFfgtzYJ1up00l9amxYPk72nZh2AOxVI9ELoEp9crhUPQM96IjY_fXpaCrMahBMCzdtPWR8zcFYu3zNRFgnW1zNJTTsYUmksIAkNkh0N_rP" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKhVePJB_-0PICW5l7fAmRMXIj5md0V3q5nOr6N8Mzoyc2vYQ_NhXireqARXxFn-RILHdv3DQhNUN7Q3LrocFfgtzYJ1up00l9amxYPk72nZh2AOxVI9ELoEp9crhUPQM96IjY_fXpaCrMahBMCzdtPWR8zcFYu3zNRFgnW1zNJTTsYUmksIAkNkh0N_rP" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /><p dir="ltr">I am humbled by the presence of my companions. I know we face a foe unlike any other, but each of us is prepared to do whatever it takes to slay the dragon. </p><p dir="ltr">Hopefully by tomorrow, I will have an update for you my faithful patrons and we will be on our way back to the Frumpy Pony with a horde of riches and fresh dragon meat. </p><p dir="ltr">I will leave you with an addition to our evening meal tonight. As I mentioned, the glowing covering proved to be edible. Ishael had knowledge of such things (I only wish she had been there to help when I was foraging mushrooms). It has a musky sweet taste that danced on our taste buds. It was quite simple to prepare. We cooked it over a small fire and I added spices from my pouch.</p><br /><p dir="ltr">Here is a full recipe-</p><p dir="ltr">Hathor and Ishael's Sticky Sweet Cave Scrapings-</p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr">Ingredients:</p><p dir="ltr">- Cave wall scrapings (edible luminescent covering)</p><p dir="ltr">- Spices from my pouch (I personally used nutmeg)</p><br /><p dir="ltr">Instructions:</p><p dir="ltr">1. Collect a sufficient amount of cave wall scrapings, making sure they are clean and free from any debris.</p><p dir="ltr">2. Place the cave wall scrapings in a cooking iron or clay bowl.</p><p dir="ltr">3. Sprinkle the desired amount of spices over the cave wall scrapings, adjusting the quantity to suit your taste.</p><p dir="ltr">4. Prepare a fire and let it burn down to embers.</p><p dir="ltr">5. Carefully place the container with the cave wall scrapings and spices over the embers, ensuring it is stable and secure.</p><p dir="ltr">6. Allow the mixture to heat slowly, using the residual heat from the embers. Stir occasionally to evenly distribute the spices.</p><p dir="ltr">7. Continuously monitor and adjust the heat, ensuring the mixture doesn't burn or overcook. The goal is to warm the cave wall scrapings and infuse them with the flavors of the spices.</p><p dir="ltr">8. Once the cave wall scrapings have softened and become sticky, remove the bowl or container from the embers.</p><p dir="ltr">9. Let the Sticky Sweet Cave Slime cool slightly before serving.</p><p dir="ltr">10. Enjoy this unique and otherworldly treat with your companions.</p><br /><p dir="ltr">Note: The specific proportions of cave wall scrapings and spices can be adjusted to personal preference. Also, unless you travel with someone as experienced as Ishael, you might want to pass on eating glowing goo from a cave wall.</p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr">Yours Adventurously,</p><br /><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathor Rophine</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" target="_blank">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</p>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-61872410189153687592023-07-05T07:01:00.001-04:002023-07-31T10:53:44.251-04:00Hathorn's Guide: Reunited<div>If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html" target="_blank">beginning</a> of these letters.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Second of Covaris, 468th Year of the Empire</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Readers,</div><div><br /></div><div>My deepest apologies. It has been ten days since my last letter. Unfortunately, the mushrooms I sourced for my last recipe did not agree with me. Selenar had no such issues as they (as I have been informed to refer to them as) did not consume as much of the skewers as I had. My stomach raged like a troll for three days and my face was as green as the verdant forest of the Southern Isles. </div><div><br /></div><div>My usual keen eyes failed me in my selection of the wild mushrooms. I blame the dim light of the evening and Selenar's inability to hold a torch high enough. I assure you, this has never happened to me before. </div><div><br /></div><div>In happier news, the entirety of our party has been reunited. Dathor has informed us that the dragon's lair is deeper into the belly of the mountain. Aliasbe and Ishael spent the previous four days wandering in the opposite direction chasing after what Ishael describes as the most beautiful water nymph she's ever encountered. I swear that bard will try to woo anything with a heartbeat- or without for that matter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, we are all finished with our separate jaunts- Dathor has found the lair and retrieved his axe, Aliasbe has returned Ishael after an unsuccessful interlude, and Selenar has nursed me back to full health.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our party is finally ready to venture into the depths of the mountain.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg40igjOwtgnyExTOVauD2jqnMLGJeWJxJKV3QrBl8K-1b7HIBoMi0UQIxkfhx7_4DvcSCyFkyU-sAHRWu-ixyqNfLQc-53EhPiObtvYIQcNDgTiVsAuXhDaPAUTYbF4RYCyXZDbNHcDhgzldyFT_RrmVmTREY89fOgszmQuxowyIlvHd2qkHuhp-mf10xg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="The entrance to the lair" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg40igjOwtgnyExTOVauD2jqnMLGJeWJxJKV3QrBl8K-1b7HIBoMi0UQIxkfhx7_4DvcSCyFkyU-sAHRWu-ixyqNfLQc-53EhPiObtvYIQcNDgTiVsAuXhDaPAUTYbF4RYCyXZDbNHcDhgzldyFT_RrmVmTREY89fOgszmQuxowyIlvHd2qkHuhp-mf10xg=w400-h400" title="A dark cave illuminated at the far end" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>Due to the delay (and my fear of foraging for sustenance amongst the cave floor), our food is now mostly our basic rations. But, our rations are not like the sawdust and compacted trimmings you find in the average emporium. </div><div><br /></div><div>No, my dear readers, when you travel with Hathor Rophine, you dine on the finest rations. I made these myself, from the recipe of an exiled elvish prince I once encountered at the Vine Blood Tavern in Western Breya. I have kept this a closely guarded secret, but I feel that it is safe to entrust it to you, my patrons.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUjmE6CyHX4l6ebQOPgMPZWbfsQh_yqrJpgfGjDNBar3MQBpiPPBO1NFgeADmOHnUX-bEhJzAqNwoN5NIaV5NcBwP2uvXkWYCdD7I2dWCGuHCEgMwASzYQFQpUFzUTh0_-58ILWWlmc7-tprLTXUm7lBUAaL0qLm17n4LrZ5ZxealvicYW42DO-38muBc4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="Ration Bars" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUjmE6CyHX4l6ebQOPgMPZWbfsQh_yqrJpgfGjDNBar3MQBpiPPBO1NFgeADmOHnUX-bEhJzAqNwoN5NIaV5NcBwP2uvXkWYCdD7I2dWCGuHCEgMwASzYQFQpUFzUTh0_-58ILWWlmc7-tprLTXUm7lBUAaL0qLm17n4LrZ5ZxealvicYW42DO-38muBc4=w400-h400" title="A black and white image of ration bars wrapped in shadowy leaves" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>Here is banished prince Onas Sylcan's Sweet and Savory Ration Bars:</div><div><br /></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div>- 2 cups rolled oats</div><div>- 1 cup dried dates (if unable to acquire dates, berries are acceptable)</div><div>- 1 cup nuts and seeds of your choice</div><div>- 1/2 cup honey or tree syrup (as a binding agent)</div><div>- Pinch of salt</div><div>- Optional flavorings (such as cinnamon or vanilla extract as your funds allow)</div><div>- 1/2 cup finely chopped salted meat of your choice</div><div>- Tallow or some oil for your cooking irons</div><div><br /></div><div>Instructions:</div><div>1. Mix the rolled oats, dried fruits, nuts, seeds, honey or syrup, salt, and optional flavorings together in a clay bowl or pot.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. After thoroughly mixing the ingredients, add the finely chopped salted meat to the mixture. Make sure the meat is evenly distributed throughout the mixture.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Transfer the mixture with the salted meat onto a greased cooking iron (with tallow or oil). Press the mixture down firmly and evenly, compacting it together with the added salted meat.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Place the iron over your campfire or hearth fire.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Cook the mixture over the campfire or hearth fire for approximately 20-25 minutes, or until the edges turn golden brown. Keep an eye on the heat to prevent burning.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Once cooked, remove the iron from the fire and allow it to cool completely. Cut the mixture into individual bars or squares of your desired size.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Store the ration bars in a dry dark cupboard sealed away from any pests or wrap them individually with the large leaves of the Shadowleaf Tree for convenient travel (if you are unable to procure Shadowleaf leaves, any large edible leaf will do).</div><div><br /></div><div>Since rations are a very personal thing, feel free to adjust the measurements and ingredients based on your preferences and the availability of ingredients in your home. Enjoy your flavorful and nourishing Ration Bars. And just think, the next time you bite into one, I could be doing the very same.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>May your taste buds never grow weary,</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathor Rophine</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites" target="_blank">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-5484783856633959072023-07-03T07:30:00.009-04:002023-07-31T10:53:05.138-04:00Hathorn's Guide: A Small Problem<div>If you're new, you might want to start at the <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathor001.html">beginning of these letters</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><b>The Twenty-Fifth of Ganrath, 468th Year Of The Empire</b></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Readers,</div><div><br /></div><div>First and foremost, I want to thank my faithful patrons. Without you, none of this would be possible. You are assisting me in fulfilling my life's dream of dining and sharing the unique cultures and cuisines from around our lands. I would also like to thank those who just subscribed to my enchantment. Welcome to the family! I hope you enjoy what I share of my travels and the recipes I share.</div><div><br /></div><div>When last we spoke, I was preparing to journey with a band of adventurers into the lair of a dragon to acquire some of its meat for the recipe. Unfortunately, we've run into difficulties.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we made our way up the mountain range, we didn't realize that the air would get thinner and thinner the higher we scaled. We grew lightheaded and dizzy, and soon found ourselves disoriented and lost in the maze of rocks and crevices that riddled the mountainside. </div><div><br /></div><div>The party became separated. I found myself alone with Selenar. Who still harbored a deep grudge for my inquisitive nature, but nonetheless begrudgingly aided me. Without the cleric's presence, I am sure I would have wandered those rocky craigs for the remainder of my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Through sheer luck or providence, it seems that Dathor's greataxe became lodged in a crevice deep within one of the boulders surrounding us, signaling us that he was not far away.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaMWucsKoI3Lvz1-1_cyxK-8K6unoxmBAt9xvfCa1K5MvsXrqDQbsPC8_fftTmWDBowq1spueERfBVwHlEyytTFLfG6WP0L2SkfaD3GSternuMuii3d3H2I9JqiifcMhpvDmDaipqrWEpZVtnpfEzPpnHrbNCLSqv1LNhmiqd7NuDPjati-2okroldNkRI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of an axe with runes on the blade" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaMWucsKoI3Lvz1-1_cyxK-8K6unoxmBAt9xvfCa1K5MvsXrqDQbsPC8_fftTmWDBowq1spueERfBVwHlEyytTFLfG6WP0L2SkfaD3GSternuMuii3d3H2I9JqiifcMhpvDmDaipqrWEpZVtnpfEzPpnHrbNCLSqv1LNhmiqd7NuDPjati-2okroldNkRI=w400-h400" title="Dathor's axe" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>With renewed energy, we two pushed forward into an underground cave opening hidden behind some thickets at the base of the ascent. </div><div><br /></div><div>His location as well as Ishael and Aliasbe Is unknown to me, but I have faith that the cleric and I will reunite with our companions post haste.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before I go, I want to leave you with our meal tonight made from ingredients I've found around our cave. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcEvuzlnYqgO1hgRgQw-jwzzyXuDTOaneIHBztkSIEmMGKSMDPHftJFHSZdYXtCHt5Nhewg5m-4fpeI7WQEmYhVR5NXQzip724UF6Rcj8NFUDx2K55lfi6SfDzUhnuuLXbyLwvvddssrG_HZZiAjdrbfJ_dmCHKLg7u7SMHvcbb5Wju6zec-YqgAPy4xx-" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="The cave" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcEvuzlnYqgO1hgRgQw-jwzzyXuDTOaneIHBztkSIEmMGKSMDPHftJFHSZdYXtCHt5Nhewg5m-4fpeI7WQEmYhVR5NXQzip724UF6Rcj8NFUDx2K55lfi6SfDzUhnuuLXbyLwvvddssrG_HZZiAjdrbfJ_dmCHKLg7u7SMHvcbb5Wju6zec-YqgAPy4xx-=w400-h400" title="A black and white drawing of a cave entrance with mushrooms growing on the floor" width="400" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>Cave-side Herb-Crusted Mushroom Skewers</div><div><br /></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div>- A handful of fire-kissed mushrooms (foraged from the mountainside, with a hint of smokiness)</div><div>- 1 clove of garlic, minced (harvested from the rocky soil near the cave entrance)</div><div>- A sprig of moonlit sage (plucked from a nearby moss-covered rock)</div><div>- A pinch of ground shimmerleaf (a rare spice that sparkles when added to food)</div><div>- Salt and pepper to taste (from my trusty spice pouch)</div><div>- Wooden skewers (crafted from sturdy branches found near the cave entrance)</div><div><br /></div><div>Instructions:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Start by lighting a small fire in a safe spot within the cave, using dry twigs and moss as kindling. This will provide the necessary heat for cooking the mushroom skewers.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Carefully clean the fire-kissed mushrooms by gently brushing off any dirt or debris. Leave them whole or slice them into bite-sized pieces, depending on their size and your preference.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. In a makeshift mortar and pestle, combine the minced garlic, moonlit sage leaves, and a pinch of ground shimmerleaf. Grind them together until they form a fragrant herb mixture.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Thread the fire-kissed mushrooms onto the wooden skewers, alternating with a sprinkling of the herb mixture on each layer. Repeat until all the mushrooms and herbs are used.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Hold the skewers over the fire, ensuring the mushrooms are cooked evenly and the flavors meld together. Rotate them occasionally to prevent burning and to achieve a delicious, golden-brown crust.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Season the mushroom skewers with salt and pepper to taste, using Hathorn's trusty spice pouch to add a dash of flavor.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Once the mushrooms are cooked to perfection, remove them from the fire and let them cool for a moment. Enjoy the delightful aroma wafting through the cave.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. Serve the Cave-side Herb-Crusted Mushroom Skewers as a simple and satisfying appetizer, relishing the earthy flavors of the fire-kissed mushrooms and the subtle herbal notes of the moonlit sage.</div><div><br /></div><div>Note: Remember to exercise caution when cooking in a cave, ensuring proper ventilation and fire safety measures. Additionally, use your best judgment when foraging for mushrooms, ensuring they are safe and edible varieties.</div><div><br /></div><div>Selenar has declared this delicacy as "tasting like vomited dirt." I, on the other hand, believe this to be one of the most flavorful meals I've had in quite some time. Selenar declined to finish the meal, so I made do with the uneaten food. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now here we sit, waiting with cautious anticipation for Dathor and the others to rejoin us with news of adventures inside this cave system. Will he have found what he's been looking for? Only time will tell...until next time readers! </div><div><br /></div><div>Sincerely yours, </div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative;">Hathor Rophine</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</div><div><br /></div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-66777656795012319062023-07-01T08:30:00.024-04:002023-07-31T10:52:13.103-04:00Hathorn's Guide: The Adventure Begins<div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">What is this all about? See <a href="https://www.adfarr.com/2023/06/hathorn-rophines-guide-to-dining-your.html" target="_blank">here</a> for details.</span></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">The Eighth of Ganrath, 468th Year Of The Empire</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Readers, </div><div><br /></div><div>I hope these letters find you well in Ganrath, the warmest month of the year. Thank you in advance for the coins you gave me when you agreed to this enchantment. It has long been my life's dream to travel our lands exploring the unique culinary stylings of the various provinces of the Nairean Empire. I know times have been tough with the quelling of the recent uprising, but there is no better time to tour the wonderful hovels, taverns, and yes, even homes of our fellow countrymen. Horses are cheap, and supplies are numerous. So, I invite you to join with me as I find the best meals our wonderful kingdom has to offer. You will continue to receive these letters as long as you leave one gold piece inside the enchanted box I gave you. My enchantments will ensure that as long as you keep paying me, I'll keep sending you updates on my travel. And if you happen to know of anyone who would love to receive my correspondence, I can make sure they receive the enchantment as well. </div><div><br /></div><div>With this first letter I will be discussing one of the most decadent and rare meals in all of the Nairean lands. I've yet to try it, but I'm excited to share with you this most rare delicacy hopefully in less than a fortnight. I'm told by the locals here in Berkline that their beloved hovel, The Frumpy Pony, make the best dragon stew ever. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I know what you're thinking.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dragons? Isn't that dangerous?</div><div><br /></div><div>And I say, yes. Yes it is, but never fear, dear reader, I'll be joining a band of adventurers commissioned by the Pony to restock their dragon meat supplies. This fine collection of souls do not fear the task at hand. This ramshackle group is led by Dathor Sparkling, a mountain of a man (but don't suggest he's a half breed, or he might threaten your well being). As evident by his dark skin, Dathor hails from the Northern Isles. His greataxe will surely be what cleaves the meat from the bone of our adversary.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyjtzLo8BjC77EFYaFP3F16QGE00s_YMHRx03sqOxZv123TBVwI0lDRAak-72Jlz_jXf9L8U4N2KTNppVc5GiTDXHy_l39rGr7G4vQK2_7Bb4e_UmMhX6kKrP9noMCg4_BAS02ZcDFL_hyj4AeFA0Lngibdjc8DjUXiezoWbPbzjxyFWnGW28xlbeHnHNX" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a dark skinned large man wearing armor, text: Dathor Sparkling" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyjtzLo8BjC77EFYaFP3F16QGE00s_YMHRx03sqOxZv123TBVwI0lDRAak-72Jlz_jXf9L8U4N2KTNppVc5GiTDXHy_l39rGr7G4vQK2_7Bb4e_UmMhX6kKrP9noMCg4_BAS02ZcDFL_hyj4AeFA0Lngibdjc8DjUXiezoWbPbzjxyFWnGW28xlbeHnHNX=w300-h400" title="Dathor" width="300" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>At Dathor's right hand is the lovely Aliasbe Fallowshield. She stands a head taller than I, but not as much as Dathor, and she eschews conventional modesty with her exotic clothing when she's not wearing her warrior's attire. I'd love to go into detail for you my readers, but unfortunately I don't think my heart could take describing her in words. She is as swift as she is beautiful. I'm sure her blades will do quick work for whatever we encounter.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ_jo-EqebHRkMvgsChwzymDwcpLPaVmEPm-FV8MDW95wBkeWAeoPv2vQPYbcWks-g5SPTTylqmuu4Mu0nJWz1_3oNgBqD8a-hqLKiOQmN4OlvoxeqM-s1K5NSNUl54DyYMeO8YKuZkIrpQNycCq0Qu32LK5ANZGetE1Ef0KFbFUcEeztH87yySks0TeTI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a pale fantasy warrior woman in leather armor, the hilts of two swords showing on her back, text: Aliasbe Fallowshield" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ_jo-EqebHRkMvgsChwzymDwcpLPaVmEPm-FV8MDW95wBkeWAeoPv2vQPYbcWks-g5SPTTylqmuu4Mu0nJWz1_3oNgBqD8a-hqLKiOQmN4OlvoxeqM-s1K5NSNUl54DyYMeO8YKuZkIrpQNycCq0Qu32LK5ANZGetE1Ef0KFbFUcEeztH87yySks0TeTI=w300-h400" title="Aliasbe Fallowshield" width="300" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>Next would be Selenar (no surname that I am aware of), a cleric hailing from the land of the Elves, but a half elf and not fully accepted by either humans or elves. I find it hard to describe Selenar. I have yet to discern if Selenar is a man or woman and each time I ask, the cleric threatens to call upon Meher, his? her? patron goddess, to swallow me into a hole into the ground.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhg3FS2xYvsl_Kb6IpqQbdzpSO3xf0CY55eX8SJsiSfQoNtwNSPw0NxgmfJmOMXM7ucgV0HzB4UA3zNOvNOavUmSam6FuMONdE-CoX3Vynt_GRWf6FJJxoFmMX82nTxUawoyf8rKnjUzRIPFhUIQm_PO-NdpdKzKweL5b15C-KPSIMsq4TrD2z69bYnb47i" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a fantasy cleric, text: Selenar" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhg3FS2xYvsl_Kb6IpqQbdzpSO3xf0CY55eX8SJsiSfQoNtwNSPw0NxgmfJmOMXM7ucgV0HzB4UA3zNOvNOavUmSam6FuMONdE-CoX3Vynt_GRWf6FJJxoFmMX82nTxUawoyf8rKnjUzRIPFhUIQm_PO-NdpdKzKweL5b15C-KPSIMsq4TrD2z69bYnb47i=w300-h400" title="selenar" width="300" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>Lastly, this troop is rounded out with a halfling bard, Ishael Anar. Her voice is like the sweetest honey and just as smooth. The way her fingers dance across her lyre almost rivals her strength in song. In my time with them, I've seen her quell even the roughest drunken tavern. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5H10pIdiBpJafssVYaGBKim7rFToD5uLAlfPhhkuFxU3yb0lwOKIyG-zWzuUVxa95F7Ghk9xSN1exj_NvcK-8EVvf3-lzYaX8rb8hIDgnqgq73Q0PrQrfORc8OAbTP6a06VMebZ81Bo09Uoquy-NhnXrdzryDAn16A5Ns2249cZthfG7Wbn_YI5Bhr-0l" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a woman who is a halfling bard, text Ishael Anar" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5H10pIdiBpJafssVYaGBKim7rFToD5uLAlfPhhkuFxU3yb0lwOKIyG-zWzuUVxa95F7Ghk9xSN1exj_NvcK-8EVvf3-lzYaX8rb8hIDgnqgq73Q0PrQrfORc8OAbTP6a06VMebZ81Bo09Uoquy-NhnXrdzryDAn16A5Ns2249cZthfG7Wbn_YI5Bhr-0l=w300-h400" title="Ishael Anar" width="300" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>In two nights time, we begin our trek up the Blastspire mountain range to search for a fabled elder dragon, which I'm told provides the most delicious meat for the stew.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, before I leave you, I've been given permission by the owners of the Pony, Mr and Mrs Toadfil- wonderful people, I highly recommend their hospitality if you find your way to the Berkline township and their fantastic mountains…</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVmQDG3cmCIA4UWw3rm9z2QN0AMVYsM-prLRCFOR2JuX0IrTge1GakqCBdRjll0MSTvU2hvOEyBZnIjySMRztmhzysRBeUQa3WGdX3AvD39AsuHYcTo9ArXmhxYSR1QpeQc4vMlrqrI3LlX2A7saVGOXf8DzWKpv94bNcy0jrXT2h_qLQ0ZHgwiwBLq8BX" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a fantasy tavern, text: The Frumpy Pony" border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVmQDG3cmCIA4UWw3rm9z2QN0AMVYsM-prLRCFOR2JuX0IrTge1GakqCBdRjll0MSTvU2hvOEyBZnIjySMRztmhzysRBeUQa3WGdX3AvD39AsuHYcTo9ArXmhxYSR1QpeQc4vMlrqrI3LlX2A7saVGOXf8DzWKpv94bNcy0jrXT2h_qLQ0ZHgwiwBLq8BX=w640-h360" title="The Frumpy Pony" width="640" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>But I ramble on- they've given me permission to share their savory recipe for their famous Dragon Stew.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div>- 1 pound of tender dragon meat, carefully descaled and cut into bite-sized pieces</div><div>- 3 cups of rich, aromatic broth of your own personal stock</div><div>- 1 cup of flame-kissed mushrooms, sliced (found in the deepest, darkest corners of the Smokewood Forest)</div><div>- 3 fire peppers, finely chopped (for a spicy kick, plucked from the volcanic fields of Mount Pyroth)</div><div>- 4 potatoes, peeled and cubed</div><div>- 1 large onion, diced</div><div>- 4 cloves of garlic, minced</div><div>- 1 cup of dragon blood wine (grapes fermented in aged dragon blood)</div><div>- A pinch of powdered dragon scale (obtained from an ancient dragon's molt)</div><div>- Fresh herbs: a handful of basil, thyme, and rosemary</div><div><br /></div><div>Instructions:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. In a large cauldron, bring the broth to a gentle simmer over flame. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Add the dragon meat to the simmering broth, along with the diced onion and minced garlic. Let it cook until the meat is tender and succulent, absorbing the flavors of the broth.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Stir in the flame-kissed mushrooms, fire peppers, and cubed potatoes. Allow them to meld together, releasing their unique essences into the stew.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Slowly pour in the dragon blood wine, letting its deep, crimson hue swirl into the mixture. It will impart a subtle sweetness and a hint of mystery to the stew.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Sprinkle in the pinch of powdered dragon scale, adding a touch of enchantment and a shimmer of magical essence to the dish.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Reduce the heat and let the stew simmer gently for about an hour, allowing the flavors to harmonize and the ingredients to meld together.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Just before serving, as an optional addition to the meal, add in two dozen eggs. As they cook, they will add a velvety richness to the stew, binding all the flavors in perfect harmony.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. Garnish the Dragon Meat Stew with a handful of fresh basil, thyme, and rosemary. These aromatic herbs will lend their delightful fragrance and complete the culinary experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>Serve this legendary Dragon Meat Stew piping hot, accompanied by your favorite crusty bread. Enjoy the succulent flavors and mythical essence of this extraordinary dish, and let the legends of the dragons dance on your taste buds.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Next time I write you, hopefully we both will have had a chance to partake of this rarest of delights.</div><div><br /></div><div>Farewell my faithful sponsors,</div><div><br /></div><div>Yours,</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel Decorative; font-size: medium;">Hathorn Rophine</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoOLqSrA77Q4_HakrwYTj-sX5AnIzQ_Kebx39j7DG_kHrKwa1QvTYfGkwsvLGR1ew_EC8OIkFSw9TRtIz8iuoNoyWL88BTI3uN94sloBmT4wGguJhloH6af-yoVtRiQi0g7ynqvWtshWkuzeObYYrJnGBwTj1C-Br3lnvwhz7VCDQdMxqIt8kq82GVwKB5" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img alt="A black and white drawing of a young man who is a fantasy noble, text: Hathor Rophine" border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoOLqSrA77Q4_HakrwYTj-sX5AnIzQ_Kebx39j7DG_kHrKwa1QvTYfGkwsvLGR1ew_EC8OIkFSw9TRtIz8iuoNoyWL88BTI3uN94sloBmT4wGguJhloH6af-yoVtRiQi0g7ynqvWtshWkuzeObYYrJnGBwTj1C-Br3lnvwhz7VCDQdMxqIt8kq82GVwKB5=w480-h640" title="Hathor Rophine" width="480" />
</a>
</div><br /></div><div>PS- if you enjoy these letters, and want them to continue, I encourage you to toss a few coins to this <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites">enchantment</a> to keep them coming.</div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-73863204050786497992023-06-29T21:57:00.001-04:002023-06-29T21:59:56.364-04:00Hathorn Rophine's Guide to Dining Your Way Across the Nairean Empire (and neighboring fifedoms)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwwWcFuP8lFj7XhdYsdLuUJCsQ88lh1KReY8k09iNKuHS0NOjD5tHrAEOR6pdvmYMgiQTWALWUtbYT6CXL-L1o-yY0l21o6dtPD29FgsiR8P3nE1BCOO1zt0eRxtz-NBNUtMNJOZ6FHDWuesnkQM9Zc4kZ6bVQxGqBZVsihuhv9psx-zhnjvuiT5VzyaRm">
</a><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwwWcFuP8lFj7XhdYsdLuUJCsQ88lh1KReY8k09iNKuHS0NOjD5tHrAEOR6pdvmYMgiQTWALWUtbYT6CXL-L1o-yY0l21o6dtPD29FgsiR8P3nE1BCOO1zt0eRxtz-NBNUtMNJOZ6FHDWuesnkQM9Zc4kZ6bVQxGqBZVsihuhv9psx-zhnjvuiT5VzyaRm=w480-h640" width="480"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwwWcFuP8lFj7XhdYsdLuUJCsQ88lh1KReY8k09iNKuHS0NOjD5tHrAEOR6pdvmYMgiQTWALWUtbYT6CXL-L1o-yY0l21o6dtPD29FgsiR8P3nE1BCOO1zt0eRxtz-NBNUtMNJOZ6FHDWuesnkQM9Zc4kZ6bVQxGqBZVsihuhv9psx-zhnjvuiT5VzyaRm">
</a>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Kicking the tires off of my blog to embark on another writing endeavor. I broached this idea over on <a href="https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid0BVFxGrn7GmhnPUSZGZubBnWeLhDQaNRP14Sg7GQz8punWaxFnAPi89U1jqhM1Czgl&id=100057821448980&mibextid=Nif5oz">Facebook</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/Ct7vhTqvXmF/?igshid=MjAxZDBhZDhlNA==">Instagram</a> and received positive feedback. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So, if you've already read this over on one of my socials, then you'll find this similar but slightly changed. On the blog you'll also get some images and art that won't be posted to my socials. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Have you ever read one of those foodie/recipe blogs where the writer takes forever to get to the recipe? That's what Hathor Rophine's Guide will be, but in a fantasy/D&Dish setting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In universe, he has set up an enchantment for patrons to deposit coins into a box that will teleport the coins to him while then simultaneously delivering his most recent letter to them. It is my D&D style Patreon. They pay a subscription fee and receive his content. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Think of Hathor as an NPC-like character who is oblivious to the plight and concerns of his adventuring party. While he is a background character to the main story for these adventurers, they are in the background of his own adventure as he is completely ignorant because he is so focused on his food "blog."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Within the next few weeks, I will be posting the first of his letters, and then will be posting in weekly installments. Over the course of his correspondence, a larger narrative will unfold that Hathor will ultimately be unaware of. Also, as this is a serialized endeavor, I hope that we will see a bunch of commentary and interactive responses to Hathor's letters, and possibly reader input will help shape the flow of the story. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And, while I will be providing this story 100% free to everyone, if you want to participate in the spirit of the story, you can head over to <a href="https://ko-fi.com/adfarrwrites">Kofi</a> (it's like an online tip jar), and toss me a few coins to keep these letters going.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">If it looks like Kofi is something that folks want to do, I'll have to think of perks or bonus content to provide. We'll see what happens.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Hope you enjoy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">- Anthony</div>Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-51248640779458875172020-02-05T17:00:00.000-05:002020-02-05T17:00:01.243-05:00The Stonemason's Apprentice- NYC Midnight 2020 SSC Round One<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I'm sharing my entry for the NYC Midnight 2020 Short Story Competition. I had seven days to write a 2500 word or less story based on the following assignment-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A mason/obsession/fantasy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I competed in this competition last year, made it to round two, but not to round three.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are my entries for NYC Midnight 2019 SSC- <a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2019/07/static.html" target="_blank">Static </a>and <a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2019/08/aienthornblood.html" target="_blank">The Legend of Aien Thornblood</a> if you want to check them out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With that out of the way, I present to you The Stonemason's Apprentice-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>THE STONEMASON'S APPRENTICE</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>by Anthony D Farr</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIW2sB9iHC6V_jr-ElXaXmspSOlPw1lHIGK6mnJjG16Y954rNa53KhkATeVklzDxxLi-kgheiliegf4vYbFzpU36MSP9lKPddEtpkLP8wu0uRRTAHXn565WVRH-aTAF789egMqZNkSdBMz/s1600/PicsArt_02-05-02.50.44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIW2sB9iHC6V_jr-ElXaXmspSOlPw1lHIGK6mnJjG16Y954rNa53KhkATeVklzDxxLi-kgheiliegf4vYbFzpU36MSP9lKPddEtpkLP8wu0uRRTAHXn565WVRH-aTAF789egMqZNkSdBMz/s640/PicsArt_02-05-02.50.44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dark
black stone scraped as Ebel lifted it from the large stack. His fingers white
with dust and caked with flecks of mortar as he handed the brick to Aethel.
Aethel took the stone with his pale wrinkled hands fitting it onto the next
level of the wall. As the brick settled into the mortar, Aethel scrapped away
the excess. He lifted his chisel and carved an intricate symbol into the soft stone.
Aethel's steadiness belied his aged appearance. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Master,"
Ebel grabbed another stone, "what do these symbols mean? Why does Malweas have
us building this chamber?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"My
apprentice, when you are as old as I do and become a master stonemason, you
will learn to not question your patrons. Payment is payment. Daxon Malweas
wants a wall built with symbols carved into each stone, so I'll do as he
asks." Aethel placed another stone into position and once again carved the
symbol into the side. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They
continued in silence as the sun passed over the glass dome of the sorcerer's
great room. As it dropped low, and the shadows grew long in the great room,
Aethel marked the last etch on the final stone of the day, wiped his brow, and
stood. He stretched, his ancient back cracking as he placed his hands on his
spine. Ebel stood and mimicked his master. Aethel looked over his work from the
day as Ebel gathered their tools and instruments into their leather satchels. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"How
much longer, my dear master mason?" Daxon Malweas entered the room as the
torches along the wall lit, pushing back the twilight shadows. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"High
Sorcerer, we should be ready to close it off by tomorrow morning. I will start
before sunrise and the last twenty stones will be left for you, according to
your instructions." Aethel bowed to the sorcerer, and Ebel followed his
master's example.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ahead
of schedule? You are a wonder. When I asked the Stonemason's guild for their
best, they provided." Malweas examined the black stone and ran his fingers
over the intricate symbols.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
will this chamber be used for, great one?" Ebel winced as soon as the
words escaped his mouth. Aethel turned and gripped his fist, holding the hem of
his tunic until his knuckles turned white. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"My
Lord," Aethel turned back to Malweas, "forgive my apprentice. He forgets
his place. I'll deal with him later."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No
need," Malweas strode to Ebel and placed his hand on the side of Ebel's
cheek. "The boy is just curious. He is only what-" Malweas looked
Ebel up and down then continued, "fifteen or sixteen summers?" Ebel
did not respond. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Answer
him, boy," Aethel snapped. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Fifteen,
sire. My apologies for speaking out of place." Ebel bowed his head.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Fifteen."
Malweas turned to Aethel. "Surely, you can forgive the boy? He is still
learning. I want you to bring him back, and do not punish the boy for
curiosity."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes,
my Lord." Aethel bowed then scowled at Ebel. Malweas' mouth turned up in a
half grin and he motioned to Ebel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Come,
join me, young man. Your Master will not object." Malweas looked to
Aethel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ebel,"
the master stonemason glared at his apprentice as he spoke, "join the
Master Sorcerer, but you are not done with your duties. When he is finished
with you, come back and finish your job here, then return to your quarters
right away. We will begin again at sunrise."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes,
Master." Ebel bowed to both men as Malweas escorted him out of the room,
away from his scowling master. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As they
walked the hallway, Malweas use a ring on his left hand to cut his finger.
Malweas whispered inaudibly and the torches in the room leapt to life, their
flames dancing and flickering down the long hallway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You
noticed?" Malweas wiped the spot of blood from his finger.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What,
sire?" Ebel shook as he spoke. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The
cut. You noticed. Don't pretend you didn't. See, look here," he procured
his hands, showing small scars tracing their way all over his pale skin, and
continued, "I do this every time I cast a spell. Did you know power comes
from blood?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No.
No, I did not."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes.
I sense a modicum of power within you, young one. Small. Yet, serviceable. "
Malweas stopped and looked over Ebel. "Forget your duties for the
remainder of your day. Come and share food with me on my balcony. You have potential."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Sire,"
Ebel stumbled with his words, "Sire, Aethel, my master, he… he would not
approve. I've already angered him-"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Think
nothing of your master, my little stonemason. He can always get another
apprentice. Worry not." Malweas waved a hand toward the end of the
hallway. "Come now, and follow me. Let us retire to my balcony."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ebel
followed him through the serpentine hallways until they stepped out onto a
balcony overlooking the city. The grand imperial palace, white against the low
sun, shone white. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Look
upon it, Ebel," Malweas said with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath
and exhaled. The vapor swirled, illuminated by the final rays of the sun low on
the horizon. Malweas nicked his hand with his ring. Blood welled up from the
pinpoint on his palm. Malweas stared at the vapor, and the mist coalesced into a
small translucent sparrow, flapping its wings, shimmering in the light. Ebel
gasped as the sparrow flitted around the balcony until landing on the marble
railing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He reached
a tentative hand out to the bird, but as his fingers passed through it, the
sparrow dissipated into the air. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You've
not seen much magic before, have you?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No,
my lord." <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Such
formalities. Call me Daxon, boy. Come now, try it." Malweas thumped Ebel's
shoulder. He stood in silence before laughing deeply. "Here's where you
say my name, right?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"So..
so sorry, High Sorcerer… I mean, Daxon?" Ebel's voice cracked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Come
let us sit." Malweas led Ebel to an empty table. They both sat and Malweas
lead forward. "I bet you’re hungry, aren't you Ebel? Would you like some
food?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes,
sire… I mean, Daxon."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Are
you wondering where it will come from?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'm
sure you have a servant ready to bring it." Ebel leaned to look at the
door, but no one waited in the white hallway. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
is your favorite thing in the entire realm to eat?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I
don't understand."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"It's
simple really," Malweas leaned back in his chair smiling. "I'm asking
what you want to eat this morning. It's easily comprehendible."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"There
are some pastries Cima makes at the bakery near the guild. I would sometimes go
there to fetch breakfast for Aethel, and Cima would give me an extra pastry.
She looked after all of the apprentices."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Good.
Good. Hold the thought in your mind. Think of your Cima and the pastries she
makes." Malweas drew a small paring knife from the folds of his cloak and
drew a line along the back of his arm the length of a finger. Blood welled from
the cut, and Malweas spoke in a hushed whisper. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What looks
like dust appeared in the air and swirled in a small quiet funnel before
collapsing in on itself in a flash of light. As Ebel's vision cleared his mouth
hung agape as the once empty table overflowed with fresh pastries. They gleamed
in the sunlight peaking over the railing. Malweas took out a roll of white
linen and wrapped his arm tight. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
is this?" Ebel poked at the nearest pastry. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"It is
breakfast." Malweas took a bite of one from the pile and nodded.
"Very good choice, my friend. Very good choice." He nodded to Ebel.
"Well, eat up. We don't want it to go to waste, do we?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No,
sire." Malweas raised an eyebrow and Ebel corrected himself, "No,
Daxon." He grabbed a pastry and tentatively nibbled at the edge. As the
flaky breading touched his tongue, his eyes grew wide and he looked up at Malweas.
"This is even better than Cima's." Ebel ate with vigor after his
first taste. He devoured three of the pastries in quick succession.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'm
glad you approve," Malweas said with a chuckle. He finished his pastry and
continued, "I'm sure you've wondering why I've taken an interest in you,
Ebel." He paused while Ebel nodded and mumbled around a mouthful of food.
Malweas laughed and leaned forward on his elbows while he spoke, "I'll
tell you two things about magic only known to few." He held up a finger and
continued, "One. Not everyone can do magic. Everyone believes if they had proper
teaching, they could cast, but very few can do it. I have my theories. I
believe before the Elves disappeared, they intermarried with our kind and their
descendants are those among us capable of doing magic. Do you understand what
I'm saying?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes. Possibly,
but why are you telling me this?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Have
you had your fill?" Malweas stood. Ebel nodded and stood as well. Malweas
turned toward the door and gestured to it, "Follow me." He strode off
the balcony with Ebel in his wake. They wound their way through the serpentine
halls in silence until they found themselves in the room with unfinished chamber.
All signs of Aethel and his tools long gone as his work was finished. Malweas picked
up one of the remaining stones. All of the remaining bricks bore the same
arcane symbol as their kin already in place on the wall. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Daxon,
what is this for?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Before
that, I want to tell you my second secret about magic, and maybe you've already
guessed." He raised an eyebrow at Ebel, then shook his head. "Or
maybe not. Magic comes at a cost. A cost of blood as I've told you. It is the
Elvish blood running through our veins. Their power gives us the ability to
cast. Something small, like the bird or torches, takes a small amount, but
conjuring the pastries took a bit more. Do you understand?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I do,
but what's the connection?" Ebel stared at the semicircular opening in the
black wall, wide enough to fit a man.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ever
since I discovered I could cast using my blood, everything I've done has been
to rise in power. I am now almost equal to the Emperor in power, but it's not
enough."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Not
enough?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No,
Ebel, my boy. It's never enough, not until this." He slapped the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
is it?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"First,"
Malweas drew the knife from inside his cloak and extended it to Ebel,
"take this." Ebel reached out with his left hand and took the blade
from Malweas. Then the sorcerer picked up one of the dark stones in his hand
and held it palm up toward Ebel and said, "I want you to make this brick
float into position. Just one. We cannot seal the chamber yet."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"How
do I do it?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"It's
simple. A bit of your blood will cast the spell. Prick your thumb with the tip
of the knife." Ebel pricked his calloused thumb and a small drop of blood
welled up. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Now
what?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Now
imagine the brick floating into place. Your natural instincts will take
over."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ebel closed
his eyes and pictured the stone moving through the air into its place in the
wall. He felt a stirring deep within the confines of his chest. A warmth
extending from his heart racing through to his finger where the blood seeped
from his skin. Ebel felt his mouth forming words unfamiliar to his tongue.
Ancient and arcane words. He opened his eyes as the stone lifted off Malweas'
palm and floated into place in the wall. Malweas clapped his hands.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Just
as I thought. You are a natural."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Now
will you tell me what the chamber is for?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes,
yes, but first let's go inside." They ducked into the chamber. As his eyes
adjusted, Ebel saw a faint glow from the inside of the stone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
is this?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"In
all my years as a sorcerer, I've been bound by my blood. My life force has
limited my power, but this is something I found in old texts left behind by
Elvish mages. I needed another person of magical ability to finish it, and as
the fates would have it, you came along. I was unsure as to how long I would
have to wait, but here you are."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
does this do? Why do you need me?" Ebel traced his hand along the brick. A
warm sting traveled from his fingers up his arm. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"This
will allow me to harness the power of another. It will create a loop of energy powering
a single mage for hundreds of years." Malweas positioned himself between
Ebel and the exit. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Wait?"
Ebel paused and faced the sorcerer. "What do you mean?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'm
sorry my boy, but you are my power source. You will ensure I become more
powerful than the Emperor." He drew his knife and made a slight cut on his
palm. Ebel felt himself pushed back by an unseen force pinning him to the rear
wall. The interior glowed brighter and Malweas' face broke into a crooked grin.
"You should feel proud. You are serving a greater purpose than becoming a
stonemason could ever have given you."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Please
don't," Ebel strained against the force to speak. As the pressure built
and the light intensified, Ebel fought against the weight to bring his hand to
his mouth. He brought his palm to his teeth and bit, tearing a chunk of flesh away
causing blood to spurt against his face. He honed his thoughts on pushing back
against Malweas and felt the pressure diminish. Ebel fell to the ground and
Malweas stumbled back and fell to his rear. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No.
You can't be doing this. You can't," Malweas screamed. He lifted the knife
to make another cut, but it flew out of his hand into Ebel's. The glow
intensified. Malweas crawled toward the opening. Ebel quickly slashed at his
forearm and flung Malweas back against the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I'm
not going to be your power source," Ebel said, spitting blood onto the
chamber floor. He cut at his arm again and held Malweas in place as he crawled out
into the room beyond. With a prick on his finger, Ebel sealed the opening with
the remaining stones and a bell tone echoed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ebel
dropped to his knees at the cascade of power he felt emanating from the
chamber. Wave after wave of magical energy and arcane knowledge pulsed into his
small frame. Once his bearings returned, Ebel stood and stretched his hands
before him. Closing his eyes, he imagined his injuries healed. Opening them, he
found his skin knitting back together until he stood whole. Ebel walked out of
the room, through all the hallways, tracing his way with unseen senses until he
stood on the balcony. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He looked
over the city and the palace as Malweas' power surged through him and wondered
if it would ever be enough. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;">If you liked the story and you want to help support my writing habit, I've just signed up for Ko-Fi, which is like an online tip jar. So, no pressure, but if you are feeling so inclined, I would appreciate any amount. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"></span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://ko-fi.com/N4N4ZPPH" style="color: #696f00; display: inline; outline: none; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img alt="Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com" border="0" height="36" src="https://az743702.vo.msecnd.net/cdn/kofi2.png?v=2" style="-webkit-border-image: url("data:image/png; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; height: 36px; margin: 10px auto; max-width: 100%; padding: 8px; position: relative;" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: justify;"></span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-Anthony<br /><br /><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" style="color: #696f00; display: inline; outline: none; text-decoration-line: none; transition: color 0.3s ease 0s;" target="_blank"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></a>.</span></div>
Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-91754741149205408472019-11-25T17:09:00.000-05:002019-11-25T17:09:59.062-05:00Down from the Mountain<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is another story that started as a writing prompt. We were given the task of telling a story about gods in the modern age. Instead of going for either Greek or Roman gods, I decided to tell a small intimate story with two gods from the Wabanaki pantheon. This story was published in the <a href="https://wolfsingerpubs.com/" target="_blank">WolfSinger Publications</a> anthology <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B06XZ8PPC3/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i2" target="_blank">Winter: Ruin & Renewal</a>, and will be featured in my upcoming short story collection. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope you enjoy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlS0gpYhEjh6cxFyBj-DQ5bMMGH3IqpVjpDm4n5ulG1VSinYsz9f83QumGorkV9ja0vcVMMO_PiVp24USzFARbkw7grHL4EPtIAAEpTSGGBzdTmgK73NWWsATRXZuCOMM-A7svNN7AxRet/s1600/PicsArt_11-25-05.01.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlS0gpYhEjh6cxFyBj-DQ5bMMGH3IqpVjpDm4n5ulG1VSinYsz9f83QumGorkV9ja0vcVMMO_PiVp24USzFARbkw7grHL4EPtIAAEpTSGGBzdTmgK73NWWsATRXZuCOMM-A7svNN7AxRet/s640/PicsArt_11-25-05.01.58.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Down from the Mountain</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Anthony D Farr</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The patrons of the Great Falls
Tavern ignored the storm beating against the windows. The wind and snow raged
against the walls, buffeting the building in the icy blasts of the Nor’easter
brewing outside. The street lights, barely visible in the storm, cast their
sickly yellow light across the street. A lone plow truck rumbled past, only the
cab and driver visible above the immense plowline. It grated against the road
as it piled the snow even higher. The aging bartender, Keith Davidson, looked
at the clock then to the muted television displaying updated weather alerts. He
sighed and tugged the hem of his white tee-shirt as he rapped his hand twice on
the counter, gaining the attention of most of the remaining patrons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“A’rite, folks,” he said,
raising his voice above the wind raging against the building, “last call. You
need to git before you’re snowed in here. I ain’t babysitting the lot of ya tonight.
Maine’s finest have just cleared the roads for you sorry lot.” A few groans of
protest greeted his announcement. He responded to one regular in particular, “Sammy,
quit your bellyaching. Mary will be waiting for you. Weather says it’s just
going to get worse and I’m not having you sleep here tonight. Go on.” He swiped
the wad of cash in front of Sam and patted his regular on the shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Out of the six left in the bar,
all but one shuffled outdoors, bracing themselves against the biting wind as it
whipped in through the open door. The lone patron left remained seated at the
bar, sipping his drink, as he had all night. Except for his original order,
there were no words from the new comer the entire night as he sat at the
bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just continued sip the drink
slowly, his mouth obscured by the long black hair hanging around his face.
Keith sized him up. Below the hair hanging in front of his eyes, Keith saw high cheekbones and dark complexion. The bartender considered
the stranger’s thin wiry frame beneath his tattered brown trench coat. He
reached for the baseball bat he kept behind the bar as he waved at his
departing regulars. Keith approached the stranger and leaned low to look into
the man’s face. He swallowed hard and tapped the bar top in front of the
stranger’s glass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Time to go, sir. It’s time
for me to be closing. Time to pay up.” The stranger laughed and sipped his
drink again. When he set it down Keith gently pulled the glass away and said, “You
need to leave before the storm outside gets worse. Weather says if you don’t
head out now, it’ll be rough going home. Now’s a good enough time.” As the
stranger laughed again, parted his hair from his face with his forefinger, and
Keith received his first good look at the man’s face. The gray eyes that stared
out from a smooth, young face carried a weight, an age to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“How’s a deal sound?” The
stranger said his voice low and gentle. “A wager. A gamble. If I win, I’ll not
pay and you’ll let me weather the storm here for the night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Are you crazy? You need to
leave.” Keith gripped the bat tighter in his hand and stood upright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Before the stranger could
respond the wind howled as the door opened to the maelstrom outside. A large
man bundled in multiple layers of furs ducked to enter the bar. He shook his
body, knocking the accumulated snow onto the floor in the opening, then turned
and pushed the door shut against the wind. He took three large strides and set
himself on the stool two down from the stranger. He did not speak but sat
staring at the other two men. Keith glanced at the stranger who took his glass
back and returned to his drink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re
closed. I just haven’t locked the door yet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No, I think I’ll be staying,”
the larger man said, his voice boomed throughout the bar. “I have business to
discuss with your customer.” He pulled his hood back and revealed a face set
deep within a shaggy black beard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Nothing to discuss with me,”
the stranger said above his drink. He took another sip and continued, “You
interrupted us. I was about to wager with our fair purveyor of whiskey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The larger of the two snorted.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Azeban, you still trying to
swindle free stuff from them? From what I hear, you’re not even good at it
anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Now, gentlemen, I must insist,”
Keith slammed his hand down on the countertop, “the two of you leave now or I’ll…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You’ll do what?” The larger
man stood and continued, “No police are coming out in this storm. You don’t
have a weapon that could hurt the two of us. You’ll do nothing.” He leaned
forward, his face shimmering in the dim light, and his features became blurry.
He inhaled deeply and large white feathered wings rose behind him and his face
appeared covered in feathers. The storm increased in intensity and the building
began to shake. Keith backed into the shelf and knocked bottles onto the floor.
He slipped on the spilled liquor, but caught his balance before he fell. He
regained his footing and ran for the front door and out into the storm, his
screams lost in the wind. The winged man shifted back to his original
appearance, walked over and shut the door, and said, “Now, Azeban, we need to
talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Bemola, first you need to
calm the storm before you kill that poor man. Then, we’ll talk.” Bemola waved
his hand and the storm reduced its intensity. Azeban continued, “Why are you
here? Did Dabaldak send you? Does the Great One want you to bring the raccoon
back to the family?” He twirled his hand and bowed his head toward Bemola.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Raccoon,” Bemola said as he
laughed, and continued, “you haven’t assumed that shape in about a hundred
years from what I hear. But no, to answer your question, Dabaldak didn’t send
me. You know the Great One doesn’t really get involved in family matters for
the most part.” He paused and bobbed his head from one side to the other before
saying, “No, Gluskab sent me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What?” Azeban stood, the
stool falling behind him, the clattering echoing in the empty bar. “Gluskab
knows how I feel about him. Why do you think I’ve been with the humans all
these years? He lied to us.” He slammed his fist down cracking the thick wood
of the bar and said, “More importantly, he lied to them. He told them he would
come back and he never did. Why does he want me now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You’re right, Aze.” Bemola
leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle at random. He twisted the cap and
pulled the bottle to his lips. Before taking a drink he said, “He didn’t come
back, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t.” The bottle upended into his mouth.
After a long draught of the alcohol he sighed and continued, “That’s what he’s
planning. He promised the People of the Dawnlands that he would return, and
that is just what he is doing now. He is gathering the family back together and
we will be with him when he returns to the People.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Bemola, you’ve got to be
kidding me?” Azeban straightened his stool and sat back at the bar. He put his
finger on the larger man’s chest and said, “You’ve been on Katahdin for far too
long. You haven’t seen what’s been happening to the People. You don’t know what
they’ve been through. It would have been better for them had Gluskab never
shown them the way. We should have never interfered.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“He thinks that now that they
are regrouping and growing again it is time to return.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“He wants to come back,”
Azeban spat on the bar between the two men and continued, “as the benevolent
hero and lead them to a glorious return. Snow Bird, go back to your mountain
and make storms.” Azeban waved his hand at Bemola as he leaned over the bar and
returned to his drink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Do you not care for the
family?” Bemola said as he rose from his seat. A hint of feathers showed on his
face as he said, “Whatever your differences with Gluskab, the fact remains
that we need you.” His face blended back to human features as he took a step
away from Azeban.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What are you not telling me,
old friend? What can I do that Gluskab cannot?”Azeban placed his glass down and
met Bemola’s gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It’s Miko. He’s never
forgiven Gluskab for turning him into a squirrel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That was pretty funny,”
Azeban said between laughs, “but what does that have to do with me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You and Miko were close. You
were the tricksters.” Bemola took another pull from his bottle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes, but I never condoned
when he killed and ate humans. He and I never saw eye to eye on that. It wasn’t
until he was changed that we,” Azeban wavered his hands back and forth, “worked
together. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we trusted each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That is why Gluskab wants
you. Miko has vowed to not allow Gluskab to return. Not just that but he has
promised to use all his powers to terrorize the People.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What’s he going to do as a
squirrel? Bite their ankles?” Azeban tilted his head to the side and raised an
eyebrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No, as the ages have passed,
he has been able to shift his form, as you and I can. Gluskab’s powers keep him
from returning to his form as a wolf or bear, as of now he can only be a
squirrel or a human,” Bemola leaned closer to Azeban and lowered his voice, “but
he is working to undermine the People as a human would. He fights against them
and against us. He is no longer just a simple trickster anymore. As time passes,
he is closer to returning to full power. We need you to talk to him and if he
won’t listen, we need you to stop him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Why? The People are fine
without Gluskab. If he comes back now it will not be what he expects.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bemola placed his hands on
Azeban’s shoulders and said, “Don’t do this for Gluskab. Do it for the People
of the Dawnlands. Miko’s true nature has been suppressed by his form for so
long. You know what he will be like when he regains his old habits. You are the
only one in the family that he will talk to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Azeban pressed the bridge of
his nose between his fingers, breathed deep, and muttered under his breath. “You
mean that I’m the only one that he will allow to get close enough. Bemola,” he
said as he stepped away, “go back to your mountain. Keep making your storms.
Stay away from the humans you claim to care about so much. They don’t need us
anymore. Tell Gluskab that if he wants to come back, to do so quietly. Live
amongst the People of the Dawn as one of them. They need us to learn who they
are, serve them, not to come back and lead them as lords above. I know Gluskab
wants to come back and do as he did once before. Gift them knowledge and
protect them, but he has not returned for so long. How would they feel? Would
they feel as I do?” Azeban began to pace as he said, “That he did not come back
in their time of need. I don’t know, but I do know that we need to stay out of
their lives.” He stopped and held his hand outstretched to Bemola as he
continued, “So, go back to your mountain. Send word to the family that I am not
returning. I will find Miko and will try to reason with him. It may take a
trickster to capture a trickster.” Bemola opened his mouth to speak but Azeban
continued, “No. I’m not coming back. Gluskab can come after me himself if he
wants, but it’s not up for debate. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bemola reached out to grasp
Azeban but his fingers passed through the trickster, leaving ripples in the
image as if his body were made of water. He shook his head, the storm grew
louder, and the blizzard grew to a whiteout condition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“How long have you been gone,
my friend?” His voice echoed in the bar and the wind blasted with every
syllable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Just during my last speech to
you,” the image of Azeban said. “Sorry to have fooled you, brother.” He paused
and allowed himself a half-smile before continuing, “Oh, actually, not really,
I couldn’t stay and have you take me home. I may be a trickster, but you are
far stronger than I. Please, tell Gluskab to not interfere. Tell him, no, tell
all of them to come live among the people. Our age is done. Let’s live as they
do. On the ground amongst them and not in the sky over them. We had a good run.
Go back to your mountain. Maybe I’ll see you next time you come down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: .4in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The image faded as it walked
away and Bemola stood alone in the deserted bar. He laughed and shook his head
again before walking out into the storm. As the snow and wind tore at him, he
raised his arms to the sky and let the Nor’easter carry him back to his
mountain. Above the roar of the storm the screech of an owl faded away on the
wind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you liked the story and you want to help support my writing habit, I've just signed up for Ko-Fi, which is like an online tip jar. So, no pressure, but if you are feeling so inclined, I would appreciate any amount. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://ko-fi.com/N4N4ZPPH" target="_blank"><img alt="Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com" border="0" height="36" src="https://az743702.vo.msecnd.net/cdn/kofi2.png?v=2" style="border: 0px; height: 36px;" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Anthony</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em></span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial";">.</span></span></div>
</div>
Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-5560145677117014872019-10-31T08:31:00.000-04:002019-10-31T08:31:31.443-04:00The Mask Maker<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today, I'm sharing my short story, The Mask Maker. It was originally published in the <a href="https://www.wolfsingerpubs.com/" target="_blank">WolfSinger Publications</a> anthology <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01MF64YXL/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i4" target="_blank">Fall: Fear & Hope</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The theme for this anthology was the season of Fall. This is the first of my stories that I set in the fictional Maine town of Raven's Bend. It is based on the Lewiston/Auburn area of Maine. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDZWNuxYbNED2fU72FZpv6I_U6CWRkV2Gv8E7XhICHR6SUUuyIyVUI65n-kYozWFC3JwSZ_Pz0tL-mnIwoxB_tU6ubCoEwF1uNUrmdn79A_w8fO5TI0k5LfvGbaCmqgO18DzJUtDvCOla/s1600/1572524823841561-0.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTDZWNuxYbNED2fU72FZpv6I_U6CWRkV2Gv8E7XhICHR6SUUuyIyVUI65n-kYozWFC3JwSZ_Pz0tL-mnIwoxB_tU6ubCoEwF1uNUrmdn79A_w8fO5TI0k5LfvGbaCmqgO18DzJUtDvCOla/s1600/1572524823841561-0.png" width="400" />
</a>
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nearly everyone in the town of Raven’s
Bend, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Maine</st1:state></st1:place> knew
of the old mask shop. Donovan’s Marvelous M<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>asks was a
little shop where faces peeked from windows to look at pedestrians. It stood
just off <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Canal Street</st1:address></st1:street>
overlooking the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Androscoggin</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Every day the
faces in the window changed, although not many noticed the change in the store
front. Every day a different set of faces watched those passing by on their way
to work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Every year, as Halloween approached, the
faces slowly disappeared until none remained. Then, they could be seen
everywhere in the streets and neighborhood of the small town. Everyone bought
their masks from the shop. A tradition started decades ago, carried on
generation by generation. Donovan’s faces displayed the mood of their maker.
Laughing, leering, secretive looks—every emotion was on display as the
townspeople strolled the streets ahead of sunset on Halloween. Donovan made all
the masks by hand. He knew his customers like any good merchant, but mostly his
customers came around only once a year. Because of this he knew them so much better
than any other businesses in town. With more time to think about their needs
and wants, he tailored his creations to his customers. When they came into his
shop, they never were in a hurry. He let them find the mask created
specifically for them, but never guided them. They always found it on their
own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He also did business outside his busiest
season. His lesser customers, purveyors of lottery tickets, cheap jewelry,
tourist souvenirs, and other assorted bric-a-brac kept the lights on and paid
the bills, but he stood impartial to that trade. He cared nothing for the
cheap wares he offered, it was his masks that called to him. He poured himself
into his creations. He only cared when his masks were bought and worn. When he
could see the faces he created wandering the streets and looking back at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One exception for Donovan stopped by his
shop almost every day at lunch. Paul Delacrux worked down the road at a local
bookstore. Each day he walked the two blocks to Donovan’s, past the cigar shop
and library, stopping in for pastries from George’s Delicacies. George always
held two <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Boston</st1:city></st1:place>
cream doughnuts for Paul. Donovon’s favorite. They shared the doughnuts as they
visited in the shop. Townspeople passed, some entered perusing the available
masks. Looking for the one to wear for Halloween. Paul loved watching people
pick out their mask. They would run their fingers over the stitches and
leather. Somehow the mask spoke to the patrons, calling to them. It never
ceased to amaze Paul when they found the one Donovan made specifically for
them. They smiled. They laughed. They tried on various masks one by one until
they found the one made for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As the customers made their purchases,
Donovan would ring them out on his cash register. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cash Only, No Cards,</i> emblazoned on a placard on the front of the
register. The smile on his face broadened as he took their money, bagged their
purchase, and waved them out the door. After they left, always chatting away
about their new mask, Donovan pulled out a black leather bound notebook and
scribbled in it. Paul asked him about it at least once a week, and every time
Donovan answered with a short laugh and a mumbled comment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Every time except this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Paul,” he said as Leslie Cole left with
her two daughters, the bell on the door ringing as the door shut behind them, “my
friend, how long have you come here to my shop?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It’s been quite a few years now. I used
to stop in after school. So maybe ten years. Does that sound about right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yeah, seems right,” Donovan caressed the
cover of his notebook with his left hand, “I’ve been here since the Fifties.
You see a lot during that time. One moment…” He paused and stood, holding his
hand up to Paul. Easing his way out from behind his counter, he strode over to
the door and hung the handwritten “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Out to
Lunch—back in fifteen</i>” sign on the entrance and locked the door. As he
turned back to Paul he continued, “This town has been kind to me in the last
forty years. Very kind. Lots of good memories. Have I ever told you about the
first mask I made for your mother? The first Halloween I worked here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Only a couple of thousand times, but if
you feel a hankering to tell it again, I’ll listen one more time.” Paul took a
bite of his doughnut and leaned up against the counter as the older man returned
to his stool behind the register.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“If you take that tone with me, I’ll not
tell you anything.” Donovan waved his hand and sipped his coffee, never taking
his gaze from Paul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Oh come on, Donovan,” Paul said through a
napkin as he wiped his mouth, “you know I’m only teasing.” Donovan said nothing
but continued to stare. Paul coughed and laughed before saying, “Was that when
the tradition started? With your masks?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You, my boy, know how to coax an old man
out of his moods, don’t you?” Donovan laughed and slapped the counter as he
continued, “Yes. The town always held the festival. Everyone walked the streets
in their outfits. So lovely,” his voice trailed off as he drummed his fingers
on the edge of the register. Paul waved at Donovan and he continued, “Yes, so
lovely this time of year. The trees with their colors. Much like nature’s
fireworks, yes? The people back then on my first Halloween here, much like
tonight, were preparing for the town’s revelry. They did not know what my shop
would hold until that afternoon. When my doors opened, one by one, the town’s
people filtered in and bought my masks.” He sighed. “So long I have been
selling these masks to this town. There is so much to tell you. I hope there is
enough time.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Donovan, what are you talking about?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Donovan didn’t respond, but instead slid
the notebook over to Paul and motioned for him to open the book. Paul opened it
and flipped through a few pages, skimming his fingers over the names of the men,
women, and children of the town. Mostly written in black ink, but some in red. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Do you notice anything?” Donovan leaned
further over the counter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No,” Paul said and chuckled, “except the
red and black. What’s the reason for that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You don’t see. I had hoped you would,”
Donovan straightened and stroked his chin. “Look at previous years and tell me
what you see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Paul nodded and looked back at the sheet
marked for two years ago—1992. He saw his name. Written in black. He saw Greg
Mantz, a childhood friend. Written in black. Rosa Morris, his brother’s first
girlfriend. Written in black. Nancy Delacrux, his mother, died November of
ninety-two. Written in red.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Paul paused and dragged his fingers back
to his mother’s name. Red. He scanned the page and found Old Man Montgomery who
died in March of ninety-three. Red. Again and again he flipped the pages and
every name in red died within a year of purchasing the mask from Donovan’s
shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Donovan,” he set the notebook down and
pushed it away. “What is this? Do you track everyone that has died in town?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It is more than that. This notebook is
just my record of sales. I track when I’ve sold the mask…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“This is more than record keeping for
sales. What are you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“My masks are more than just decorations.
They are markers. They show death who to take.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What?” Paul opened the notebook once more
and looked at all the pages going back to the first year listed. Red names
peppered within the black. All dead within a year of their purchase. “You kill
people? What is this?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No. No my boy. There are forces. Natural
forces that move the universe. Death. Time. Fate. They are much like gravity.
Natural. Inexorable. Unmutable. I am an agent of those forces.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What you are saying makes no sense. How
do you know who is going to die?” Paul took a step back from the counter and
held his hands, palms out, toward Donovan. “How do you know?!” Paul voice
echoed through the small shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Paul, my boy,” Donovan gestured to the
stool at the counter, “please have a seat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No. Tell me why those names are in red.”
Paul walked back to the counter and slammed his hand down hard enough to cause
a ding to escape the register. “Tell me why my mom’s name is in red.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I am an agent of death.” Donovan paused
and raised an eyebrow waiting for a response. When Paul offered nothing,
Donovan continued, “There are many of us. We are assigned to small groups of
the population. I reside here. Each of us has a signature way of marking those
ready to pass on. Mine is the masks I make. Those who are to die within a year
are marked by my mask for death to take.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Donovan, what are you talking about?”
Paul backed away from the counter, the notebook dropped to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Paul, slow down,” Donovan slipped from
around the counter with his hands outstretched before him. “Paul, it’s a little
unsettling, but hear me out on this. Sit, please,” he gestured to the chairs
near the entrance and nodded his head. Paul backed his way toward the sitting
area and sat down on the closest chair, not bothering to remove the magazine
laying on it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Think of me as a cog in the machine,”
Donovan said as he sat across from Paul. “I only know when people are going to
die when I start making their mask. Then when they wear the mask, it marks them
for the next agent of death to take them. We are all cogs in the machine. We
all have roles to play.” He coughed before continuing, “You saw my ledger. You
saw the facts. How could I have predicted those deaths?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You could’ve written those names in after
the fact. You could be playing a sick version of a joke.” Paul shook his head
and wiped his mouth with his hand. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips
and hear it in his ears. He stood and pointed his finger at the older man, “This
is sick. I don’t know what game you are playing, but this is sick.” He reached
for the door, but Donovan stood and grabbed his wrist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Look at last year’s entry. Look at last
year.” Donovan pointed to the black notebook open on the floor. “There is one
name left from last year that hasn’t died yet. Look and see. See that I am
right. I marked her last year and her time is short. Look at it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Paul crossed the room and picked up the
book. He thumbed the pages until he arrived at last year’s entry. He threw the
book down. It struck the floor with a resounding thud. Paul felt the vibrations
in his feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Lisa Connelly?” He looked to Donovan and
continued, “David and Marie’s daughter? She’s what, eighteen? Senior?” His
voice broke, “Why does she have to die? Why is she in your book?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I don’t know, Paul. All I know is that
Fate has chosen her. When I made her mask last year, I knew it she would die
within a year. Her time is almost up. She is the only name still alive written
in red ink. Find her and you will discover the truth.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“God, this is insane. I’m going to go find
her and prove you wrong.” Paul kicked the notebook and strode toward the door. “She’s
not going to die tonight. You’ll see.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I don’t choose. I don’t choose,” he heard
Donovan whispering as the entrance door shut behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Paul looked around at the people filing
into the streets. The Harvest Festival almost in full swing. Masks of Donovan’s
creation stared back at him. Some laughing. Some crying. Monsters. Demons. All
stared at him as he pushed deeper into the crowd. His heart beat harder as the
weaved his way between the oncoming throng of people. He had to find Lisa. He
had to prove Donovan wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Paul continued to move through the crowd,
making his way toward the memorial garden near the falls. The teens would be
there trying to sneak cigarettes and beer before joining the rest of the town
on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Main Street</st1:address></st1:street>.
Paul knew they would be there, because that is where he was when he was a teen.
The hideouts never change. The crowd thinned as he neared the riverbank. The
lamps sprung to life, illuminating the river walk path as the sun dipped lower
beneath the horizon. Paul heard the laughter and shouts of teens in revelry
ahead of him and started to jog. He kept up his brisk pace until he came upon a
cluster of twenty teens, all masked, standing in small clusters of three to
four people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They all looked up as he entered the park,
eyes wide and panting for breath. Everyone froze. Paralyzed at the adult in
their midst. Unsure if they needed to explain themselves or flee the scene.
Paul held his hand up and sucked in a deep breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Lisa,” he called. “Lisa Connelly? Are you
here?” Twenty masks, black eyes and fixed expressions, all fixed upon Paul
remained silent. No one spoke. No one moved. “Lisa, it’s an emergency. Please
speak up. It’s Mr. Delacrux. I’m a friend of your parents.” Across the fountain
at the center of the park, a slender girl slowly raised her hand and slid her
mask up. “Lisa, thank God.” Paul broke into a jog again toward Lisa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She removed her mask and opened her mouth
to speak, but a panicked expression overtook her face. She grasped at her
throat and fell to the ground writhing and gasping for breath. Paul slid to his
knees beside her and looked up at the surrounding teens, shouting at them to
call nine-one-one. Lisa stopped thrashing on the ground and she felt limp
against Paul’s leg. He lifted Lisa’s neck and tilted her head back causing her
mouth to open. Paul saw no visible obstruction so he held his ear over her
mouth. He drowned out the terrified voices of her friends and focused on
listening to any sign of life from her body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“She’s not breathing,” he muttered to
himself, then to the nearest teen, “Did someone call nine-one-one?” The boy
nodded but remained silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Paul felt her throat, but no flutter of a
heartbeat met his fingertips. With one last check to ensure emergency was called
Paul started chest compressions on the girl’s small frame. Counting off each
compression he swallowed hard as he felt her breastbone snap and her ribs
crunch at the tenth compression. At thirty, he stopped and lifted her head and
blew two quick breaths, watching her chest rise and fall with each. He checked
her pulse and breathing, and when he found no response he started the cycle
over again. Compressions, breaths, check. Paul lost count of how many cycles of
CPR he completed. He felt tired and weary when a paramedic pulled him away. The
voice muffled in his ears, but he just shook his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He watched as the paramedics took over on
Lisa. He felt hot tears spilling down his face as they applied the pads for
the defibrillator. When the machine cycled on and shocked,
her body jumped, as did Paul. Each successive shock brought a jolt to him as he
watched the responders try in vain to restore life to the teen. Paul stood and
walked numbly out of the garden. He did not heed the calls and inquiries from
those watching. Instead, he left the garden and ran back toward the town
center.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Back through the throng of people. Back
through the celebration. Back to the little shop on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Main Street</st1:address></st1:street> with the owner waiting
patiently for Paul to return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He burst through the door, but Donovan was
not in the main room of the shop. Paul saw a light on in the back and walked
down the hall to the store room in the back of the shop. He crossed the room
listening to the muffled music wafting from the cracked door at the other end
of the room. He whispered to Donovan and pushed the door open. As his eyes
adjusted to the fuzzy light in the room he saw Donovan hunched over his
workbench busy with a new mask. The record player in the corner scratched out a
soft opera. The tones washed over Paul and he swayed on his feet as he watched
Donovan working leather onto the frame. He reached his hand out and touched the
older man on the shoulder. Donovan paused and looked back at Paul. He stood and
placed both hands on Paul’s shoulders and led him from the room to the front of
the store.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“She’s dead. It was her time,” Donovan
said. He reached under the counter and produced two glasses and a bottle of
whiskey. He poured a little into each glass and slid one to Paul. As Paul gulped
it down, Donovan continued, “You witnessed her passing. I’ll mark it in my
book.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What happened?” Paul pressed his hand
over his eyes and pressed his index finger and thumb to his temples. “How did
you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Long story, my boy,” Donovan said as he marked
in his ledger. “Before I moved here, I was desolate. No chance at life. One day
I was approached by a man. He told me his role in the cosmic gears of the universe.
He was an agent of death. He marked those for death to take. I had many of the
same questions you have now.” Donovan coughed and wiped his mouth with his
handkerchief before saying, “He proved to me, just as I’ve proved to you, the
truth. That he could see those who needed to be marked so other agents could
take them. He was dying. He needed to find a replacement. He revealed all to me
and offered to give me his station.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“This doesn’t make sense,” Paul shouted as
spit flew from his mouth. He spread his hands on the counter and stared at his
feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It didn’t to me either,” Donovan poured more
whiskey into their glasses and continued, “I balked at the idea, but it made
sense. As he died, I heard the call. I felt the pull to come here. This is my
area. I mark those here, just as there are those that mark others in their
area.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“How do you know? How did you know my mom
was supposed to die?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Paul,” Donovan patted him on the shoulder,
“I just do. I am guided by fate. You can’t fight fate, my boy. No. You can’t
fight it.” He coughed again. “When it is someone’s time to go you have to let
them go.” He doubled over with a coughing fit and fell to his knees. Paul knelt
beside him. Donovan’s mouth moved wordlessly before he managed to say, “I’ve
called nine-one-one. Their response time tonight will be about seven more
minutes. That’ll give us enough time to wrap up.” He pulled himself up using
the counter and Paul’s arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Time for what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You’ll see. Come. We are almost done.”
Gathering his feet, Donovan walked back to the back room where he made the
masks. Paul followed, each footfall heavier than the one before. When they
entered the room Donovan turned and pulled a key on a chain from beneath his
shirt. “Paul, my boy, I’m almost done. I saw it a year ago. I didn’t put my
name in the ledger. You can do that,” he handed his book to Paul, “It’s yours now.”
He paused and looked around before continuing, “In fact, all of this is. I’ve
left it to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What? Why?” Paul clutched the notebook
tight in his hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Because I will soon fall dead before you.
I will soon have a heart attack and it will be too late for me by the time the
paramedics arrive. I saw my death a year ago. I am marked, and now I am
ready to move on and pass this on to you. Just as that stranger passed it on to
me so many years ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“This…This is crazy,” Paul thrust the
notebook back to the older man, but Donovan just pushed it back into Paul’s
arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Crazy? Yes, but true. You will take my
place in the grand cosmic machine, but first I must show you my tools.” He
turned and slid a painting out of the way to reveal a large ancient safe set in
the wall above his workbench. Donovan slid a gold key into the lock, and Paul heard
the tumblers clink. Donovan turned the key reverently. At a loud clunk from
deep within the metal door, Donovan swung the door open and revealed rows upon
rows of vials and glass flask of herbs, liquids, and powders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What is this?” Paul leaned in trying to
read the labels written in Donovan’s handwriting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“These are my tools. When I see someone is
marked for death within the year from Halloween to Halloween, I sometimes have
to use these to keep the balance. If they haven’t died by the time tonight
comes around, I have to help the machine. Like that poor girl tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You, you kill them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“They are dead anyway, Paul. I am an agent
of fate.” Donovan closed the safe door and faced Paul. “They have been marked.
I have to make sure the cosmic machine keeps moving.” He leaned against his
bench and placed his hand over his chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Did you kill my mom?” Paul took a step
closer to Donovan and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Did you?” He shook the
older man and threw to the right against a wall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Paul,” Donovan said then slid down to sit
on the floor, still clutching his chest. “I had to improvise. I used the same
powder I’ve given myself. My heart will fail soon. When they arrive, you will
tell them I had a heart attack and you found me. Everything I have is left to
you. You will carry on my purpose.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You killed all those people.” Paul paced
the short room and continued, “You’ve been killing for who knows how many
years. How have you gotten away with it all this time?” He stopped and knelt
beside Donovan. “How have you not been caught?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I am protected because of my status. I am
an agent…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Stop that,” Paul slapped him. “Stop
spewing your insane belief about fate and death. Just stop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Carry on for me, my boy,” Donovan closed
his eyes and squeezed his hand on his shirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“You don’t get to do this. Do you hear me?”
Paul shook Donovan. The older man did not respond. His head lolled to the side
and when Paul released him, Donovan slid to the floor. “You can’t do this. You
can’t.” Paul clenched his fist at his side and gritted his teeth. He heard
sirens approaching as he stood and walked over to the workbench. He slid the
painting back over the safe and sat at the chair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The sirens were closer now. The flickering
lights from the ambulance flashed dimly on the wall before Paul. He picked up
the mask on the table and found his hands working on their own. As the
paramedics burst into the room, he remained focused on the half-formed mask and
began to sew a red piece of leather onto the curve of the cheek. The paramedics
spoke to him, but he heard their voices as though muffled through water. Only
the opera music broke through. It guided him as he pieced together the mask
oblivious to the efforts behind him to save Donovan. He pulled the unfinished
mask off the mold and placed it over his face. As he stared out of the eyeholes
he breathed deep of the smell of the leather. He removed it and placed it back
on the mold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It’s not done yet. I’ll get it right,” he
whispered to himself, “Eventually. Eventually, I’ll get it right.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Anthony</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em></span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial";">.</span></div>
Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-52758833051285873412019-08-29T07:30:00.000-04:002019-08-29T07:30:26.627-04:00Gardener or Architect<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnpx13vlwoU01Q5J2sYgborPziRSkWxp92dvnuYAgv2YFamyEm8O3VbdbntVWxsvMOcI6xsdEcsU2xONsAWIQ3v_KnQ0EIBj8fRyroZbLTapwH-du91Yc6fIJIJ3w9F1lAoVNjgc6bKw8/s1600/PicsArt_07-03-08.43.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1494" data-original-width="1600" height="595" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnpx13vlwoU01Q5J2sYgborPziRSkWxp92dvnuYAgv2YFamyEm8O3VbdbntVWxsvMOcI6xsdEcsU2xONsAWIQ3v_KnQ0EIBj8fRyroZbLTapwH-du91Yc6fIJIJ3w9F1lAoVNjgc6bKw8/s640/PicsArt_07-03-08.43.09.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">When I first started writing, I didn't know anything about the terms or labels that writers and authors put upon ourselves. It actually wasn't until somewhere around 2013 (when I started plugging into online writing groups on Facebook), I heard the terms "Plotter" and "Pantser."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was lost. No clue as to what either of those meant. So, not shy to be the one to ask the dumb questions, I asked in one of my writing groups.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Everyone was super helpful. They gave me the basic definition that a Plotter is someone who meticulously maps and plots out their novels to the last little iota. A Pantser, on the other hand, is someone who writes by the seat of their pants. Someone who lets the book write itself almost. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I found myself identifying more with the idea of being a Pantser. I even wrote a poem about it. It was the first thing I ever had published (albeit in my high school's Lit Mag). It wasn't until I read the Otherland Saga by Tad Williams. There's a character in the books that has what he calls his "data garden" where his plans and observations are visually represented by a virtual garden. He talks about how he could be an Architect or a Gardener when it comes to his planning- meticulously planning or letting it grow and tend it. My brain expanded that concept to writing. I looked at the things I worked on and felt like the Gardener label was applicable to me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I never plan my stories beyond the basic details. Sometimes all I know is where I start and where I'll end (and sometimes not even that much). I don't know themes, what my characters are going to do, where they go, or most of the steps along the way. I let my stories tell themselves to me and I tend them as they grow, guiding and pruning along the way. This is in opposition to the Architect who will draft and plan out the characters, backstories, worldbuilding, plot, and other intimate details before even putting the first line of the story down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I say that to talk about how the way I write isn't right, nor is it wrong. Same with those who are Architects/Plotters. Most writers I know falls somewhere in the spectrum between the two. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And that's okay. I've seen in some writing groups where some toxic members will chastise others for not doing it their way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And that's not okay. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It takes all kinds. Not just in writing. But in life. We need those people who are going to plan and prepare and we need the people who are going to fly by the seat of their pants. The key is finding the common ground and adapting when you need to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, my advice to writers is to write how you want to write. Develop your style. Learn from better writers on how to be a better writer, but write in a way that works for you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Do that in life as well. Play to your strengths. Be an architect or gardener, but learn to adapt and be flexible when you need to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you've made it this far, thanks, and be sure to check out the #TalkingBooks episode I did for the Otherland Saga (spoiler warning if you haven't read it, and if you haven't it, go read it).</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/6RrmFz_QxMM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6RrmFz_QxMM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you liked the story and you want to help support my writing habit, I've just signed up for Ko-Fi, which is like an online tip jar. So, no pressure, but if you are feeling so inclined, I would appreciate any amount. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://ko-fi.com/N4N4ZPPH" target="_blank"><img alt="Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com" border="0" height="36" src="https://az743702.vo.msecnd.net/cdn/kofi2.png?v=2" style="border: 0px; height: 36px;" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Anthony</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em></span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial";">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-16132443265741238342019-08-21T09:55:00.001-04:002019-08-21T10:07:12.732-04:00Puppets<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sharing another story this week. This story was originally written as part of a flash fiction writing prompt to write a short scene with the theme being addiction. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I tried to think outside of the box on this one, and I wrote in first person, which I tend to try and avoid, even though my novel is written in first person...</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It ended up being a quick read at just under 2000 words. It also references the Aegis people that feature in many of my stories. Take a minute or two to read it and let me know what you think.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXjzONY4MboB-dEwn2ctJBgFiLp1FoskDqVEODrcn5NEvKwhjrGuaFX1jJwrAuonSkmArqnatpPtvCK_UIOdy8JOGauBwD07QaeGQupWJ58oE6XnDSQH954dk5S3ayfFuWEL-JX8t4NMH/s1600/PicsArt_08-20-09.29.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXjzONY4MboB-dEwn2ctJBgFiLp1FoskDqVEODrcn5NEvKwhjrGuaFX1jJwrAuonSkmArqnatpPtvCK_UIOdy8JOGauBwD07QaeGQupWJ58oE6XnDSQH954dk5S3ayfFuWEL-JX8t4NMH/s640/PicsArt_08-20-09.29.47.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<br>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Puppets</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anthony D Farr</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Tell
me, can you read my mind right now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No,
I mean, yes,” I said pressing my fingers into the corners of my eyes. “I can,
but I won't. Last time it did things to me. It made me do horrible things. I
made people do horrible things.” I sat up, the lounging sofa creaked as my
weight shifted, and looked at the doctor. He continued to scribble on his
yellow legal pad. The pen moving fluidly across the paper making only the slightest
scratching noise sounded like nails on a board. He finished his note and ended
with a flourish of the pen, then looked back at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Mr.
Rheoli,” he straightened, and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the pad
dangling from one hand between his legs, “You've suffered a great deal. I need
you to accept what happened to your family. I need you to remember what
happened. You need to come to the reality that you cannot read minds or control
them. What happened to your family was a tragedy and you need to deal with it
head on without the trappings of this alternate reality you've constructed for
yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know what happened, you pompous
ass. I was there. I caused it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh God, I caused it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I wept
squeezing my eyes against the tears streaming down my face, between my fingers and falling into my lap. I heard the leather of his chair squeak as he shifted
in his seat again. I could not keep the images of my parents and brother out of
my mind. I made them do it. I killed them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oliver, only seven, face down in a
pool of blood on the kitchen floor. Mom sitting at the kitchen table, leaning
back, her hands holding the hilt of a knife in her chest. Dad on the other side
of the small table, slumped over, with his hands dangling off to the side.
Blood flowed freely from the long vertical slits in his wrists. I stood in the
middle of this macabre display laughing, my body electrified with pleasure. I
made them do it and I didn't care.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The
doctor coughed snapping me back to the present, but I let my guard down. A low
static slowly built up in my ears. I brought my hands up to the side of my face
and rocked back and forth. I couldn't let it start again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Fredrick,
are you okay?” He asked. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I should call
the nurse in here, </i>echoed over the static and with the doctor's thought in
my head I began to feel the pleasure wash over me. I had to stop before it was
too much for me to handle, but a pushed a little further. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I hope Agent Matthews is watching this.</i> I could feel the euphoria
spreading through my body, but I knew I had to stop before I took it too far. I
couldn't let it happen again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Six point two eight three one... eight five, um... three zero seven one...” The door to his mind shut
slightly and I sighed as his thoughts faded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Fredrick,
what are you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Reciting the digits of tau. Trying
to stop from reading your mind again, sir.” I could not hear the static
anymore. I dried my face and forced my breathing to slow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Again?
Am I to assume that you were just now reading my mind?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes,
sir.” I cradled my head in my hands as the pleasure receded replaced by a mild headache.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“And,
you felt the pleasure, the rush, as you described it? Why did this time not
turn out like the incident at your house?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Because,”
I said, taking a deep breath, “I stopped myself. If I go too far, I don't think
I'll be able to stop. The more I do, the harder it is to stop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Tell
me again, what happened with your family? Why was it so hard to stop?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I
think, I don't know, but I think it feels so good, once I really get into it, I
can't stop myself. I started by reading their minds a little, but eventually to
keep the feeling, I had to go deeper. Then I had to start making them do
things, controlling them. At the end, I could only keep the feeling if I made
them do things they wouldn't normally do. I made them kill each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He
began to scribble on his pad again and I could not help but reach out and open
the door again. I pushed enough to see through his eyes and read his notes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recommend for Project Aegis, but not
as active participant, schedule for study and dissection before he loses
control again. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
pulled back as I began to shake from the chemicals coursing through my body. I
wanted to push deeper to find out what he meant, but I did not want to risk
another incident.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“What
is Project Aegis?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It's
nothing,” he swallowed hard and he glanced quickly at the door. “It's a
rehabilitation project for people with disorders similar to yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Even
without reading your mind, I know you are lying. What's going on here?” I
stood, and the doctor leapt out of his chair, knocking it over and inched
toward the door. I caught glimpses of his thoughts, jumbled images of armed
guards waiting to lock me up. “Don't make me do this,” I said, holding my hands
up in front of me, “Please, just let me go. I promise, I'll go be by myself.
Don't make me do this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Fredrick,”
he neared the door, arms raised above his head, “Fredrick, my boy, do you
realize what we could do if we understood how you do what you do? Just let us take
you in. You won't be harmed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Won't
be harmed? What is study and dissection?” I took two steps closer to the doctor
and ducked as the door to his office splintered inward, sending glass and wood
flying toward me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The
room flooded with guards in riot gear and they formed a curved line in front of
me, all with rifles pointed at my head. The doctor still cowered near the door
and covered his head, as a man wearing a black suit and a bulletproof vest
strolled into the room. I fought hard to keep in control. I couldn’t let it
happen again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Hello,
Fred,” the suit said, “mind if I call you Fred? Of course you don't. My name is
Agent Matthews. I work for an organization that is in place to catalogue and
protect the world from the weird, and you are mighty weird, son.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Heh,”
I chuckled, “Protect. Aegis. Pretty clever.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“See,”
he said looking around at the others, “see, this kid gets it. Yes, we protect,
and right now I have a feeling we need to protect everyone from you. How do you
see things?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I'm
dangerous. I control people. I make them do things they don't want to do.” I
started opening doors, ever so slightly. The armed men no longer could fire
upon me, no matter what orders Matthews gave them. The euphoria slowly spread
from my head down, and I fought to maintain composure. The doors opened a
little more. Their minds told me of the snipers. I extended myself to them and
had all three take a leap onto the pavement below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“So,”
Matthews said, “You understand. Son, you're either like a rabid dog that needs to be
put down, or someone with a gift that can contribute to the future of humanity.”
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I need you alive at least until you are
in the facility, then you are just a slab of meat for the scientists.</i> He
cocked his head to the side and I could hear the report that his snipers all
lay dead. He glared at me and pulled his gun from its holster. I let him get
far enough to hold the gun in front of me but stopped his finger. “Damn you,”
he said. Before he could say anything else, I forced his armed guards to kill
themselves. They all aimed at each other and fired. Quick and easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
soared. The fire burning within me raged and I needed more fuel. I knew this
was the same path I traveled before, but I didn't care. It felt too good. The
doctor tried to run, but I stopped him and made him stand at Matthews' side. Each
heartbeat pushed me higher. I felt like a god. I flicked my hand and before
either could say a word, Matthews shot the doctor. I felt a rush and pushed
into Matthews mind, down to the core.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Hmm,”
I said, “You were going to kill him anyway? That's why that didn't feel as good
as I'd hoped. Let's try something else.” Matthews moved his gun to his temple
and his finger hovered over the trigger, but something didn’t feel right. “Ah
ha, you would do that wouldn’t you?” He couldn’t respond, but his eyes
narrowed. “You are the type to fall on your sword. You have failed your masters
and would see this as an honorable death. Well, we'll have to find something
more suitable. Something buried deep inside that you desire but would never
ever act on.” I pushed deeper. Deeper. Until finally, “There it is. Oh wow.
That is deplorable. I don't know how you could live with yourself after that.”
His eyes grew wide and pupils dilated. “Well, there it is. Go forth and do my
bidding.” He holstered his gun and turned away leaving me to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As
he left, my mind exploded. Wave after wave washed over me and I collapsed to my
knees. When the feeling subsided enough for me to stand again, I walked out of
the office seeking my next high.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> There's
no stopping now. I can't go back.</span></i></div>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you liked the story and you want to help support my writing habit, I've just signed up for Ko-Fi, which is like an online tip jar. So, no pressure, but if you are feeling so inclined, I would appreciate any amount. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span><br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://ko-fi.com/N4N4ZPPH" target="_blank"><img alt="Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com" border="0" height="36" src="https://az743702.vo.msecnd.net/cdn/kofi2.png?v=2" style="border: 0px; height: 36px;"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Anthony</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em></span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial";">.</span></div>
Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-32912408093773626982019-08-16T21:39:00.001-04:002019-08-16T21:43:38.960-04:00The Tale of the Little Bird: The Oath<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today, I am sharing with you all an excerpt from my novel- <a href="https://kdp.amazon.com/amazon-dp-action/us/dualbookshelf.marketplacelink/B00IPRDLW4" target="_blank">To Tread the Narrow Path</a>. The book is split into four parts (the "Books"), and each of those books are split into four parts that mirror each other in scope and theme. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I originally published this as a serial novel and completed it roughly two years ago. If you like what you see here, check it out over on Amazon in the in the first paragraph, and you can read it for free if you have Kindle Unlimited.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Also, if you like it after you've read it, be sure to comment here or drop a review over on Amazon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcP624Z-HB_jm6WkF5FfKZoT4HHbeG72e3dOGBacKCcQdyXiN6RUwALMdRkLFMhV3-lqtWOE6CiTNIXz-LT9EFA0NYTUmsICJfsNdzKkKUUgLrHLRawZbEYbYu5d2KUhTzxAaG4zq_a5y/s1600/title+and+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1360" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcP624Z-HB_jm6WkF5FfKZoT4HHbeG72e3dOGBacKCcQdyXiN6RUwALMdRkLFMhV3-lqtWOE6CiTNIXz-LT9EFA0NYTUmsICJfsNdzKkKUUgLrHLRawZbEYbYu5d2KUhTzxAaG4zq_a5y/s640/title+and+trees.jpg" width="542" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="CSP-ChapterTitle" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">BOOK I:<br />THE TALE OF THE LITTLE BIRD</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">PART
I:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">THE
OATH<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">H</span></b>is
death began late in the day as the sun dropped below angry clouds. As night
fell, he still walked the path of death, but he sent many along the narrow path
ahead of him. Through all the twilight hours and into the dark, they set swordsmen
against him. Like waves crashing against the rocky shore, they threw themselves
at his blade. With each wave, he took another step towards death. Oh, but it
was a tiny step and he did not walk it alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That day,
my world turned red. The death of my master set me upon a path towards
vengeance, towards retribution. He knew his journey down the narrow path would
not be long. In his wisdom, he ensured that he traveled that path alone. He
spared me. He sent me away so that I would survive. So that I could carry on
our quest, our vow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Earlier
that day, before my world upheaved, I tended to our nets in the river far from
our sanctuary. I spent the greater portion of the day and previous night lying
in our salmon nets to prepare for the coming winter. As I stood waist deep in
the water securing the nets and poles I felt the river steal my warmth. The
cold fingers crept into my depths and I feel as though I should have taken it
as an omen of the darkness to come. Pushing through, I finished the task at
hand and started a fire to bring warmth back into my body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Reaching
into the folds of my tunic, I pulled the last of my bread out to eat. Knowing
that I would return soon, I supped on the remainder of the bread and washed it
down with a swallow of water. As I laid back to relax and enjoy my break from
my lessons, I found an uneasiness creep into my mind. No matter what technique
I tried, I could not bring myself to a clearness of mind. It almost felt as
though I left an important task undone, but I could not place it exactly.
Finally, abandoning my reverie, I began the journey home. The sun had just
begun its downward journey as I set my feet towards our hidden sanctuary. I did
not know what awaited me upon my return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I came to
the fork in the path; one road led to my home, the other to the nearby village.
I noticed markings that hinted others had passed by headed in the direction of
the sanctuary. While this normally would not alarm me, I saw the telltale signs
that these travelers attempted to hide their passage. To the untrained eye,
there would be no sign of any persons headed in the direction of the sanctuary.
I took the path toward home, with an anxious heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I ran up
the long hill to our home, a loud crack of thunder rose to meet me. At that
moment, I knew fear. Not for myself, but for my master. I knew that unknown
warriors set themselves against him, and I knew that they could not bring him
low with blades so they turned to powder and shot, ghost weapons. Cowards’
weapons. Yet still, in spite of their weapons, he fought valiantly, against all
odds, against all men, but in the end, they were too many for him. Finally, his
long journey to the shadows neared its end, but his murderers still did not
know victory. In the end, their courage failed them. When I found him, he lay
at the edge of the narrow path, and I saw his attackers fleeing into the night.
They feared his spirit might arise and slay them. Cowards all, leaving their
bloody work undone, for my master still breathed. They had no honor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Leaning over
him, I held back the tears for a Nightwatch does not cry. I lifted the mask off
his face and looked over his battered and broken form. The mask stuck to the
blood that quickly caked on his face. His eyes, set deep within bruises now,
peered into mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Master…,"
I whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Do
not speak," he began, his speech surprisingly clear, "I have much to
speak of and little time. I know not who has slain me; they bore no mark I
know. If they are my enemy then they threaten our Lord… My death would only
serve my master’s enemy… the warlord…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"You
must foil their schemes, whatever they may be… You must protect Lord Akana… You
alone can do this."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I replied, "Master,
I cannot. I am not a full Nightwatch. My training is incomplete…" He
silenced me with his cold dark eyes and continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Listen,
my young bird, your path is hard but it is not the path to vengeance… Harden
your heart… Swear to me that you will not kill in my name… That you will not
avenge me…" His grip on my arm became as iron and he continued, "Swear
that you will spill no blood for me… that you will think only of the safety of
our Lord. Your loyalty is to him alone."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I
swear." I felt like a millstone had been tied to my neck and I was cast
into high tide. The weight of my vow tugged at my soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My master
took one last breath and whispered, "There is a scroll. I have sealed and
hidden it with the Wolf's Blade. Take the scroll to our Lord…" and with
those words he slipped away to his ancestors and damned me to walk the dark and
narrow path.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you liked the story and you want to help support my writing habit, I've just signed up for Ko-Fi, which is like an online tip jar. So, no pressure, but if you are feeling so inclined, I would appreciate any amount. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://ko-fi.com/N4N4ZPPH" target="_blank"><img alt="Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com" border="0" height="36" src="https://az743702.vo.msecnd.net/cdn/kofi2.png?v=2" style="border: 0px; height: 36px;" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: "times new roman"; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Anthony</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em></span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial";">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";">PS- If you enjoyed that and if you don't mind spoilers, watch the episode of #TalkingBooks I did for my novel-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/vLv7qFoWyUA/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vLv7qFoWyUA?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<br />Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3259803508102807918.post-88518239342971351252019-08-07T08:37:00.000-04:002019-08-07T08:37:01.100-04:00The Legend of Aien Thornblood<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's another story from my experience with the 2019 Short Story Challenge with <a href="http://www.nycmidnight.com/" target="_blank">NYC Midnight</a>. My assignment with this one was Park Ranger/Utopia/Fairy Tale. Like <a href="http://www.adfarr.com/2019/06/static.html" target="_blank">Static</a>, I shared this one during the competition, but I've since made some edits based on the feedback from the judges. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was not as confident with this story as I was with Static, but I still like it and like the direction I went with the elements given. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbJNPPQ03i38LV7yngnCo9Ed-ENIEZffSz5B-_KzvXiG6rcnMhHH-q_IiueTTOdc2JARnlW8Co3u9XQFPlhgzOdBoDUFFhMjCvnuSuMa6QKcPjBXUHJhS-xKY1hXePBWuULFg-SbHt3H6/s1600/PicsArt_04-10-12.35.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbJNPPQ03i38LV7yngnCo9Ed-ENIEZffSz5B-_KzvXiG6rcnMhHH-q_IiueTTOdc2JARnlW8Co3u9XQFPlhgzOdBoDUFFhMjCvnuSuMa6QKcPjBXUHJhS-xKY1hXePBWuULFg-SbHt3H6/s640/PicsArt_04-10-12.35.49.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Legend of Aien Thornblood</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Anthony D Farr</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Come, children, gather round as the fire burns bright and hear my words. I Tarrora, Chief Bard of the Kingdom of Varidel, tell the legend of Aien Thornblood.<br /><br /> Long ago, almost beyond memory, Emperor Varidel, first of his house, shaped this land for the Elves. With his hands he wove the raw fabric of the universe into a paradise where no elf would ever go without. Where even the least of us have glamour.<br /><br />Before the First Age, before this land became as it is, glamour was scarce. Those elves living then did not have even the meagerest measure of glamour. Without magic we were vulnerable to the hordes of lesser beasts. Varidel battled the them to secure peace. He alone fought back against the orcs, trolls, and goblins. He alone cleansed our lands from their blight. At their defeat Varidel declared it the First Age of our kingdom. All elves had access to glamour. We wanted for nothing.<br /><br /> At the birth of the First Age, he appointed Aien to serve as protector of the Edwinde, the great sanctuary beyond our southern border, beyond the river Geswelg. The Edwinde, the great expanse, during the night housed every kind of flora and fauna imaginable, but at the rising of the sun, everything turned to bright white sand. In the center, Varidel placed the Fynedfa, the keystone to our realm. Varidel commanded the Edwinde remain as a preserve, an example of his power, throughout the ages. He charged Aien as First Ranger, to protect the Fynedfa and keep our realm from tipping into the Shadowed Lands.<br /><br /> For a thousand years, Aien served his Lord faithfully, without incident. Then, one fateful night, as the sun waited just below the horizon, Aien rode his steed along the Geswelg and at the crossing spied signs of passage amongst the growth. He removed the hood to his riding cloak loosing his black hair from beneath the dark fabric. Dismounting his horse, he inspected the broken twigs and ruffled leaves.<br /><br /> “The intruders passed recently. I must pursue before the rising sun destroys their trail,” he told his equine companion. Touching the side of his steed's face, he continued, “Go home, I will call if I need you.”<br /><br />Removing a handful of glamour from his pouch, Aien blew it into the air. Stepping into the blue shimmering cloud, he murmured an ancient incantation and became invisible. He considered using more glamour to quicken his steps but decided to conserve his ration. As he slipped through the thick growth of the Forest of the Night, he swiveled his head back and forth looking for those who would defy the commands of Varidel. <br /><br /> As the sun breached the horizon, light cascading across the lush forest, a subtle change occurred. The flora lost its vibrant colors. The animals scurrying across the forest floor stopped in their tracks. A white stag as large as a horse with antlers reaching twice its length looked at the approaching daylight and bawls a lonely note skyward. Nearby an owl rotates its head to look at the oncoming sun before spreading its wings wide in the first rays of dawn. One by one the creatures grow pale, then bright white under the rays of the rising sun. Aien had seen the transition countless times before, yet he still awed at the power of Varidel. The forest collapsed as everything, plant and animal alike turned to sand. A roar, like that of a lion, swept across the expanse as the sand settled into the Desert of the Day. Aien drew his hood over his head, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. About two hundred paces away, he spied two figures cresting a fresh dune. As they disappeared to the other side, he quickened his pace. <br /><br />As he crossed to the other side of the dune, he saw their trail stretching into the distance. Kneeling he swiped his hand across traces of blue in the course white sand.<br /><br /> “What are they using glamour for?” Aien wondered aloud. He removed a pinch of his own from his pouch and blew it into the air. “Gaetwisa,” he whispered as the glamour shimmered in the sun's rays. <br /><br />Nothing happened.<br /><br />Aien whispered the spell again, and again nothing happened. Cursing at his waste of glamour, he realized the intruders must be masking other spells, and thus realized he would need to continue on foot as he could not call his faithful steed. He also realized his invisibility spell would no longer hold if he stayed within range of his quarry's magic. <br /><br />“How much glamour must they be using for this?” Aien wondered. <br /><br />He continued his pursuit intending to catch them before they reached the Fynedfa. <br /><br /> Throughout the day he chased them. The sun marched across the sky beating down upon pursued and pursuer alike until it touched the western horizon. As the sun dropped lower a cool wind blew across the desert, whispering like a gentle stream. Aien stopped and readied himself for the transition. The ground rumbled deep beneath Aien's feet. The sand quickened and moved like water, and Aien sank to his ankles until tall, grown trees burst through the sand, scattering the white powder as the forest sprang into existence. Aien felt a familiar tremor rushing beneath his feet and he leapt into action as an elm sprang forth beneath his feet. He grabbed onto a passing branch, letting the tree pull him upward to the roof of the forest. As the last rays of light dipped below the horizon, the remaining sand formed into the creatures who roamed the Forest of Night. When the new trees ceased swaying, a blue haze of spent glamour settled upon the forest.<br /><br />Aien descended the tree with nimble skill and set off toward his prey. He grew concerned at how close to the Fynedfa they were and quickened his pace. As he approached the edge of the clearing in which the keystone stood he slowed. At the center a stone, twice the height of an elf and the breadth of two paces, glowed a dim blue against the darkness of the Forest of Night. Aien crouched as he looked around for signs of the trespassers. Too late, he heard a whispering to his right, and a bright flash caught him off guard. His body flew across the clearing, striking a large oak. Aien crumpled to the ground unable to rise. He looked up to see the interlopers approach. They pulled their hoods back. Both elves, like him. A male and female quite unlike any other elves Aien had ever encountered. The female stared from inside her red cloak, her thin gaunt face wore scars on her right cheek. Her pitch-black hair spilled around her face. Her companion's fair pale hair surrounded his face and he wore a matted beard visible inside his pale cloak and hood. <br /><br /> “Who are you who would you trespass against our Lord in his reservation?” Aien said as he struggled to lift himself. He reached his hand down to his pouch, but the female sliced the strap and snatched it out of his grasp. <br /><br /> “We need your glamour, Thornblood.”<br /><br /> “It has bonded to me. My glamour is of little use to you.” Aien sat up against the oak and examined his captors. “Who are you?”<br /><br /> “I am Sarlanna,” the female said, then pointed to her companion, “and this is Fendan.” She held Aien's pouch up and continued, “As to your glamour? We need it and you for what comes next.” She nodded to Fendan, and he lifted Aien to his feet causing Aien to struggle to find his footing.<br /><br />“Sorry, for the blast,” Fendan offered, “but we had to catch you off guard.” He pointed to the Fynedfa, “Now, come, we have much to do.”<br /><br /> Sarlanna reached into her tunic and produced a small amount of her own glamour, ready to act if Aien chose not to comply. He followed them to the Fynedfa with Fendan prodding him to move faster. A low thrum resonated out from the stone, reaching deep into Aien's bones. He felt connected to the stone and through the stone to all the forest and the kingdom beyond. <br /><br /> “You will move the stone,” Sarlanna said.<br /><br />“No. I cannot. I will not.” <br /><br />“I don't need your consent,” she spat nodding to Fendan. Fendan pulled his knife and with a quick flick, drew blood on Aien's hand. At the same moment Sarlanna took a handful of Aien's glamour and threw it onto the side of the Fynedfa. The glamour hovered in the air, not falling to the ground, but not landing on the stone. Fendan thrust Aien's bloody palm against the glamour into the stone. As the blood mixed with the glamour, the stone rung like a low bell. The long note resonated out across the Forest of Night, across the river Geswelg, and across the whole Kingdom of Varidel. The bell note faded, and the stone moved back uncovering a dark hole beneath with a spiral staircase leading down into the depths. <br /><br /> “He will be coming. There's not much time,” Sarlanna whispered as she descended into the darkness. Fendan prodded Aien, and they followed her into the pit. Sarlanna used a pinch of her glamour to create a blue glowing cloud hovering to her left illuminating their path. <br /><br />As they descended into the darkness, the three shared no words, but Aien grew frightened at what Varidel would do upon learning of this trespass. <br /><br /> At the bottom, Sarlanna extinguished her light. Their eyes adjusted to the darkness and Aien saw glowing blue cocoons scattered evenly in all directions in the subterranean cavern. <br /><br />“What are those?” Aien asked.<br /><br /> “What everyone in the kingdom needs to know of,” Fendan responded. <br /><br /> “This will bring down the entire kingdom. We did it Fendan,” Sarlanna embraced her companion. “The text spoke truth about what lay buried here.”<br /><br /> “Why would you want to destroy our kingdom? Varidel has created for us a paradise. He defeated the hordes and has given us peace. We want for nothing. Everyone has glamour. Everyone enjoys life. Why would you want to tear that down?” <br /><br />“Thornblood,” Sarlanna said, “look at those cocoons, and tell me, what is the price of your paradise?” <br /><br />Aien approached the nearest cocoon and wiped away a blue film gathered on the outside. He gasped and took a step backward. Inside the cocoon rested a brute of a beast with long arms and legs. A large misshapen face with fangs overhanging the lips slept at peace within a blue liquid.<br /><br /> “Is that an orc?” Aien backed away and bumped into a larger cocoon. Aien shouted in surprise and fell to the ground, “A troll? What is this trickery?” He spun on his heel facing Sarlanna. She walked over to him and knelt beside him.<br /><br /> “It's the price of our paradise.”<br /><br /> “But Varidel taught us that before he created this realm, he defeated the hordes of orcs, goblins, and trolls banishing them from the kingdom.”<br /><br /> “He lied. He imprisoned them here. He harvests from them to power the kingdom. From where do you think our glamour comes? It's these poor creatures. They don't deserve this. They deserve freedom.”<br /><br /> “But,” Aien lifted himself to his feet, “that would destroy our kingdom. What would we do without glamour? What would we do without Varidel?”<br /><br /> “Don't you understand? He's lied to us. Our whole realm is a lie built off the misfortune of these poor creatures. It deserves to be rent asunder.”<br /><br /> “We are out of glamour, Thornblood,” Fendan extended Aien's pouch, “and we can't tear this apart before Varidel arrives. Will you help us? Will you stand for what's right?”<br /><br /> Aien looked from one to the other. He grabbed the pouch from Fendan's grasp and turned to look across the expanse of glowing chambers. <br /><br /> “I am Aien Thornblood, First Ranger of the Edwinde, chosen by Lord Varidel himself, and I will do what I must for our fellow Elves.”<br /><br /> Aien reached into his pouch and grabbed a handful of the pale blue powder. He raised it to his lips and whispered into it. His breath blowing faint blue puffs as he spoke. When done the glamour in his hand glowed bright blue. He looked from Sarlanna to Fenden and back. <br /><br /> "I do what I must."<br /><br /> Aien tossed the glamour into the air and a white light flashed, chasing every shadow in the chamber and bathing all in a bright blue light. <br /><br /> Outside, in the clearing, Lord Varidel, arrayed in full battle armor arrived, riding a great steed. He stepped down and walked to the Fynedfa. Out of the depths of the cavern, Aien exited, covered in blood. Varidel nodded to his ranger.<br /><br /> “Have you done what is necessary?”<br /><br /> “Yes, my Lord. I have done what is necessary.” He knelt before Varidel. <br /><br /> “Then rise my good and faithful servant. You have served your master well and will reap a great reward. Your clan will forever serve as protectors of the Edwinde until the last light fades, and you will never want for glamour.”<br /><br /> Varidel kept his promise. Even to this day, those of the Thornblood clan protect the beating heart of our paradise from those who would disrupt it. They protect the glamour.<br /><br /> Now, children, as our flames have ceased their dancing, and the embers burn cold, remember the lesson of Aien Thornblood. Remember the balance of our realm and why it must be maintained. The balance protects both the Elves and the lesser races. That, children, is why we do not venture into the Edwinde to the Fynedfa. Sleep now. Sleep and know that Varidel watches over you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading. Be sure to comment down below or on whatever social media you found this on to let me know your thoughts.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you liked the story and you want to help support my writing habit, I've just signed up for Ko-Fi, which is like an online tip jar. So, no pressure, but if you are feeling so inclined, I would appreciate any amount. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://ko-fi.com/N4N4ZPPH" target="_blank"><img alt="Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com" border="0" height="36" src="https://az743702.vo.msecnd.net/cdn/kofi2.png?v=2" style="border: 0px; height: 36px;" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Anthony</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: xx-small;"><em>If you have any questions about copyright information or reproduction of this excerpt please check out the </em></span><a href="http://www.adfarr.com/p/copyright-information.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em><span style="color: #888888;">copyright page</span></em></span></a><span style="font-family: "arial";">.</span></div>
Anthony D Farrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08817326220595625606noreply@blogger.com0