Letters from Camp

The quest continues! I’ve had a hard time focusing on anything for the last several days, but I actually did more than par for today! The dorks wanted to get some stuff done, apparently.

Word Count: 8,510 / 15,000

Excerpt:

Joleth edged forward, staring unabashedly at the mermaid. “Are you the one who dragged Elias into the lake a few days back?”

The mermaid’s smile softened somewhat, though she still had a certain aura of danger about her. “A case of mistaken identity,” she lamented. “We soon discovered we have similar goals, which was the reason for this meeting now. The one in which you’re both being very amusingly short with me.”

Elias leapt at the joke like his life depended on it, and Eral knew it was coming. “Oh, Eral’s short with everyone,” he explained. “But you’re right. My manners and all. Lorelei, this is Eral Mageslayer and Joleth Bay. Friends, this is Lorelei.”

Lorelei lifted a hand out of the water and waved. “Mageslayer, hmm? If we’re all lucky you’ll put the name to use.”

Eral narrowed his eyes. Even with the light compliment, he remained wary of that knowing look. “That’s me,” he replied. “Mr. Lucky.”

Letters from Camp

Writing has been a struggle the last few days. I have trouble focusing on a lot of things. Still, I made effort today and made some good progress! The trio is getting there, and they’re gonna be reeled in by the plot whether they want to or not.

Word Count: 7,310 / 15,000

Excerpt:

Elias watched the door and the shuttered window with an expression that Eral could only describe as disapproval. Anger was a distant emotion for Elias, from what Eral had seen in their few months traveling together, but it came closer every day.

I’m not the right person for this, Eral lamented to himself. Then, he spoke aloud before Elias could claim his own chair for the night.

“We’re close.”

A smirk accompanied Elias’ sideways glance. “Yeah,” he muttered. The cloud of his mood didn’t quite dissipate, but he stopped glaring at the windows as if they were the real reason he couldn’t feel the storm.

Letters from Camp

Today was fun! I made it to a third of my goal for the month and managed to move my plot forward another little step, which can always be tricky. I also got some good old Elias and Eral banter, which is always great fun.

Word Count: 5,038 / 15,000

Excerpt:

Eral’s wings unfurled from their tidy leaf-bud shape, and he had to buzz them a few times to wake up before he took flight and drifted down the embankment to meet her. “You look like a drowned possum,” he greeted.

“My timing wasn’t great,” Elias dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Didn’t get rid of my gills in time.”

Eral didn’t answer right away. He had to wrestle with the urge to roll his eyes skyward, and the battle took too much of his effort. “Why. Did you have. Gills.”

Elias tried to frown, but her usual obnoxious smirk appeared instead. “To breathe underwater, Eral. Why does anything have gills?”

Letters from Camp

I didn’t write yesterday, and I was too busy to make the excerpt post from late Thursday night that I wanted to do. So, before I even do my writing for today, I’ll do a quick excerpt now because some stuff is happening and I’m too excited for it. 🙂

( P.S. Elias is genderfluid, for those who might be confused about the swapped pronouns )

Word Count: 2,824 / 15,000

Excerpt:

The growing unrest probably explained why she dropped her guard one night when she was supposed to take the second watch. The waves of the lake rushed as background noise, a cool breeze rustling over their shoddy camp. Joleth slept in the sparse shadow of a huge piece of driftwood, and Eral had, as always, claimed a tuft of grass for himself.

Elias lay on her back on a slight embankment, surrounded by soft grass while the shore churned away not even fifteen feet away from her boots.

Until, of course, something lurched up from the shore and grabbed her ankles.

Letters from Camp

The time has come once again for Camp NaNoWriMo! This year I’ve decided to do some more work on Imperfect Storm, a fun tale mostly focused on Elias Dawn, Eral the Arbor Pixie, and Joleth Bay as they go on an epic (and ridiculous) quest. Today, however, I focused on their villain for once. She wanted some attention.

Word Count: 675 / 15,000

Excerpt:

[Guinivere] had quickly guiled herself into a position of some clout in the region. As a respected mage and a well-traveled member of the so-called monsterkind, she offered knowledge and connections to the right people, and the more people she met, the more connections she could make. Politics were a bit boring, but she had more patience for them than her latest best friend.

He wouldn’t be very welcome among the delicate work being done in many of the workshops of Gen. Disaster followed him wherever he went.

So it was Guinivere allowing herself to be praised and showered with gratitude for her aid in various ventures, whether it was money (exceedingly easy for her to talk out of rich men), magic, or insight. After some of the things she’d dealt with on the way to her goals, this wasn’t the worst. Though people outside the workshops had an image of the engineers as antisocial and spiteful people, they treated their own with quite a lot of respect.

Guinivere, they spoiled, all because she asked.

April 2019 To-Do List

  • Finish Brothers Apart contest entry
  • Complete Camp NaNoWriMo goal (15k words)

I didn’t quite finish my contest entry last month, but I made a lot of progress! Since the deadline approaches, I’m going to double down on it, and I think Camp NaNo is actually a decent time for that! It gets me motivated to write every day, so I’ll already be working on things. I’m hoping it will help me knock out that contest entry quickly.

This month I definitely plan to do some Letters from Camp posts, with excerpts and thoughts on the process as I go.

I will once again be working on Imperfect Storm, the story of how Elias Dawn and Eral the Arbor Pixie came to be such a good duo.

Third Prize: My Hero

The time has come to start posting the prizes for my Food Day Contest. In third place, we had nightmarejasmine , who requested a story with Elias Dawn and Eral the Arbor Pixie.


Some jokes just aren’t funny. As a demigod of mischief, Elias could attest to the fact that not everyone knew where that line was drawn. There was an art to it, a skill in doing no real harm with a trick. Sure, his trickster side sometimes almost went too far. Sometimes the temptation grew to cause more trouble than anyone deserved. But he never actually crossed that line, not when he was in control.

When the fellow at the bar raised his glass in a fake-drunk salute, Elias’ trickster side perked right up.

Continue reading “Third Prize: My Hero”

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?”

Drinks Too Many

It’s time for an Elias & Eral short! Featuring a side of Elias we don’t get to see very often.

Reading time: <5 minutes


“If I seem dangerous, d’you get scared?” Elias’ voice was much quieter than usual, and not as articulate. Eral looked to him with a sharp frown, finding the halfgod staring dejectedly at his drink. The guy could hold his liquor pretty damn well, but from the looks of things it had finally caught up to him.

“What the hell kinda question is that?” Eral dismissed, taking another swig of the mead in his thimble. Proportionally, he could outdrink almost anyone. He knew what spiral Elias was on. “I’m cutting you off.”

Continue reading “Drinks Too Many”