Excerpt: Cira

Cira Dawn is one of my favorite characters, and definitely one of the most surprising as far as where her story went. Originally a D&D character, I have adapted her backstory somewhat to suit the Muunfel setting. Here’s a look at one of the misadventures of Cira well before she even considered having a child. This is shortly after she experienced a madness-inducing dimension hop.


Among the massive pile of treasures Cira and her companions claimed from the beast was a small cube. Cira picked it up and turned it over in her hands, and it buzzed with energy. When one side was pressed, Cira gasped as a sharp pull began right between her shoulder blades, like one of her many kaleidoscope friends was leading her off on a new adventure.

Phinn started to fade away, as did the others, one by one. Cira frowned as she realized they weren’t coming with her. Wait, she wanted to cry out, but her lips were sealed by whatever was yanking her out of the world. Phinn looked startled and leaped towards her, his hands outstretched. She slipped through them like water. The lights and shadows around her began to blur and spin in a sickening show of acrobatics. Cira, her senses overwhelmed by the pulling sensation and the sights and sounds of madness, lost consciousness.

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Excerpt: Whisper on the Run

I don’t think I’ve ever posted anything about this guy before. Introducing Gailen, another of my little characters and a troublemaker in his own way.


The night was seeping in, overtaking the glimpses of sky through the canopy above. Where before the leaves were vibrant green, now they were banners of black. They rustled in the night breeze and masked the bat wings in motion among them. The moon was like a grey-white eye trying to peer through the black branches to the underbrush far below. Nocturnal movements shied away from it, lest an owl spot them in the foliage. Their wings would be softer and quieter than the hanging moss and their talons sharper than a hawthorn.

One small pair of eyes watched from the curled roots of a tree, knowing the owls weren’t the worst creatures to be found out there.

Gailen moved the leaf he’d pulled aside to check his surroundings. It rasped against the others, all crisp and long dead and easy to stack in place. He had lined a crawl space under the roots with them. The cold ground couldn’t steal his warmth there, and the tree could shield him from almost all that would come for him.

Almost. He had to hope his insulation would keep him hidden from the tree. From the ones it would tell.

Muunfel Lore Bits #1

Angels, as have been touched on before, are the umbrella category for any beings created by a god or gods for a particular task. It’s a broad term, but then being celestial is a broad implication. Some angels might even conflict with others, depending on the purposes they are designed for. Angels of death, for example, run counter to angels of protection.

Flying Sea Serpents are actually angels. Created by Cora, the goddess of water, and Sil, the goddess of air, their divine purpose is simple. They guard the sea and sky wherever they are placed. Their original purpose was to guard the shores of Muunfel, but many have been slain and their numbers are reduced.

Some gods are less likely than others to create angels. Others simply aren’t sure what to do with them. Wiavex, the god of souls, for example, has created one angel, unique in its shape, which has a very clouded purpose. It is simply a Soulgazer Beast, consigned to see the souls of mortals with no task to complete with the information it finds.

Throwback Thursday

How Elias discovered his gender identity

Elias, in his original form, was a D&D character (dual class bard/ranger, for those interested). He was actually introduced as the son of my previous D&D character, Cira Dawn, who had survived three campaigns prior and deserved to be safely retired with all her loot so she could take care of her lil baby.

Becoming an oracle of a significant temple (a development that I kept in her story when I moved it into the Muunfel project) gave her a stable place to call home, but it also meant many visits from all kinds of importan people. Elias grew up meeting dignitaries, gods, vessels of gods, royals, and the like. It was a very accepting household, though he saw his fair share of trouble growing up there. His mother’s importance made him the target for more than one kidnapping attempt, but Cira Dawn can and will move mountains for her baby, so it never stuck.

Elias grew up confident and well-loved, but still he set out on his adventures to see the world and figure out his own place in it (all with his mother’s enthusiastic support). This is, more or less, how he ended up with his original D&D party.

Fast forward to the thick of the Plot. One of the other party members, a very pretty cleric, had gotten kidnapped. She was being held hostage in a warehouse, and part of the rest of the party’s plan for attack was to create diversions. Elias’ diversion, since he could shapeshift, was to transform into the likeness of their kidnapped friend to make the bandits think she’d escaped her cell.

Sometime during this mission, it clicked. The form, presenting as female, worked well for Elias, and she was almost reluctant to shift back.

After that, more shapeshifting and experimentation occurred. Elias learned that he is a man sometimes, a woman others, and neither or both on some occasions. He’s very fortunate to be able to play so freely with his presentation, too.

Fun fact: Sometimes, when presenting female, she changes her name to Elisa to match and thinks she’s the cleverest about it. For agender/nonbinary days, El is a suitable name for them. However, Elias is fine with his given name as a general way to refer to him.

A Little Change (8/?)

Back at last with more of the Size Swap AU! It’s been a long time since I could work on this one. The prompt challenge of 2018 really pushed other projects back a bit, but I haven’t forgotten the shenanigans here!

(x)


As they neared the ground at last, Bowman had to bank farther out and take a slow, controlled glide to the clearing. He didn’t have as much room to land as he usually did. Jacob kept that in mind as the impact of Bowman’s boots hitting the ground jolted all through him and the grip around his body tightened for an instant.

Bowman stumbled a few extra steps and wound up turning to fall to a seat before he could crash into a tree. Jacob found himself held close to the sprite’s chest again, and the heartbeat behind him pounded like a stampede.

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Excerpt: Bottled Rage

One story I like to work on from time to time is another short featuring Elias Dawn and Eral the Arbor Pixie, entitled Bottled Rage. It’s a fun little foray into the way Eral acts as tough as anybody when he’s drunk–a task that takes quite a few thimblesfull to achieve.

He still likes his demigod buddy well enough, but good luck getting him to admit it.


Bars were great. One of Eral’s favorite places to be after a successful quest. And before. And during, if there was time.

Elias was off chatting someone up. He had all the luck with the ladies (or guys) he happened to pick out. Eral just wound up being called cute most of the time. He didn’t try to be too friendly, unless he was angling for someone to let him borrow a thimbleful of their drink.

Drinking put a warm feeling in his gut and a lightness in his steps. For a pixie, the world could be heavy sometimes. Eral didn’t mind the help. The more he had, the easier it became to follow along with drinking games, anyway.

He had already had to regale whoever would listen of his adventures. Before Elias sauntered into his life, Eral had accomplished plenty on his own. Strangers didn’t chuckle at the notion as much as Elias did, but then the damn demigod never took anything seriously.

“Idiot thinks ‘cause he got um, them tattoos on’s arm that he’s the best at … at doing the thing and getting the reward shit,” Eral complained. He had a seat on an overturned shot glass, and a few of the bar patrons laughed along with his bluster.

“Whassis tattoos mean?” someone asked. Eral squinted to focus on who said it, and then glanced around the place. Elias had a corner booth with a couple of hangers-on around him. His sleeves were rolled up casually to reveal the curling runes in black ink on one arm. Still there.

“Fucked if I know,” Eral said, slopping some beer from his thimble when he used it to help his dismissive wave. “Buncha temple shit I think. Told me once an’ I damn forgot.”

A wavering hand descended slowly from above. Eral glanced up as its shadow flickered, and then he took a drink from his thimble. The hand came to rest next to his seat. “Shit,” the human slurred. The hand tilted and a finger tapped Eral’s back lightly. He almost spilled more beer.

“Atta … atta pixie,” the human said with a grin. “Who needsa bard anyway?”

Flash Fiction: Waste Watcher

A shrill cry echoed in the mist. Kitty opened her eyes from her idle snooze and scanned the tiny back garden. The old stones of her low wall held back the mist in the old forest, save for a few brave tendrils creeping in through the gate.

She heard nothing more; the initial screech had neither echo nor reply. Kitty murmured a lament for whatever poor creature had met its final match. It didn’t sound like a person, but people could loose the strangest sounds when terrified for their life. That was a lesson the mist was often content to teach her, as if she had forgotten the burden she carried.

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NaNoWriMo Day 30

I made it!

It’s been such a fun project! Even though I did have a couple days where I just did NOT want to do ANYTHING, I made my word count and got the story very close to a really nice conclusion! I can’t wait to share more of it once I get it edited up.

Excerpt:

“Please help me again,” Seth spoke and signed at the same time. “Again” was new to them, but he doubted it mattered.

Click remained dim for several seconds, not a flicker of what they might be thinking on their skin. Then, finally, they lit up in a new pattern he hadn’t seen in some time. They most often used it in his first days when he was skittish. “It’s okay,” he guessed it meant. Then, they used sign to emphasize it. “I’ll help you.”

NaNoWriMo Day 29

Oh gosh I’m so close! And the ending of the story finally revealed itself to me as well. It’s been so much fun and the finish line is in sight! For now, here’s where I’m at.

Word Count: 49,342

Excerpt:

“I want,” he began, using sharp, clear motions as he curled his hands towards himself. It was one of the trickier signs to teach them, he’d discovered, without the benefit of any context or even an analogy to give them. He repeated it in case they needed to jog their memory on what the desperate motion meant.

“To go home,” came next. He’d never signed that to them before.

“I just want to go home,” he said it aloud along with the signs then, all at once and with even more yearning on his face. How much they could read from an expression was unclear; they’d never had to read body language like that before. But they’d learned sign.

NaNoWriMo Day 26

Back again. Yesterday I wasn’t feeling it for making a post. Today I feel pretty awesome about what I wrote. I’m on the home stretch, folks. 😀

Word Count: 45,207

Excerpt:

Seth held up a hand and, after a shaky, hesitant moment, pressed it against the barrier of his reverse fish tank. It didn’t feel like glass; it never had. It always reminded him of those fountains, the ones with a sheet of water raining down a clear surface, and instead of glass this time it was slightly pliant, like a cushion against the wild current.

Click stared at him in shock, the patterns flickering through their head tendrils and across their face.

Then, just as hesitant and just as gingerly from pain, they held up their own hand. It was much larger than Seth’s, but still they placed their palm against the barrier opposite his, meeting his gesture the best they could. They practically hid him from sight when they did it.