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 (Late post)

(This is from a few days ago – I forgot to crosspost it then!)

This week has been a bit crazy at work, but I’m still finding time here and there to work on this project. It’s a lot of fun to just kind of have my characters banter with each other. Who knows if these conversations will make it into the final version? Not me! But they’re great ways to develop the relationships anyway.

Word Count: 6,057 / 15,000

Excerpt:

Joleth sighed and grumbled. “I still can’t believe you met the river queen.”

Elias snickered. “When we meet up with her, I can always put in a good word for ya. You’re a member of the elite guard, you’re a real catch.”

Joleth scoffed. “I think you’ve taught me well enough to be cautious about water women.”

Elias smirked. “I’ve dealt with way worse critics, Joleth. You’ll have to do better than that.”

Joleth snickered. “I really won’t.”

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

Today I had fun pitting Elias’ very lax attitude against the sort of super-serious high stakes that a lot of epic fantasy likes to have in its plotlines. Naturally, Elias breaks a lot of the molds no matter the urgency in a given situation. It’s way too much fun.

Word count: 4,261 / 15,000

Excerpt:

The billowing hair was a deep green hue, while the skin was such a dark shade of brown it could almost be black. The long tail stayed as black as before, but Elias caught shimmers of iridescence that she hadn’t noticed before. Broad shoulders and a rounder frame were wrapped haphazardly in layers and layers of fishnets fashioned into a shawl. Gold trinkets tangled quite purposefully into the garment, twinkling over the mermaid’s ample chest and stomach alike.

“Hi,” Elias tried again. “Not to sound cliche, but I’m not from around here. What’s going on?”

The mermaid almost smirked. Almost. The full lips twitched, and then turned downward in a distrusting frown. The angry glare from before returned to those deep green eyes, and suddenly her hands surged up and grabbed Elias’ face.

“You reek,” the mermaid muttered, now that their faces were mere inches away from each other. Confusion finally broke through the anger and distrust. “You reek of her but you are not completely taken,” she said.

Elias’ cheeks were slightly smushed in the mermaid’s grasp but she tried to smile anyway. She shrugged, which felt strange when upside down and under water. “Definitely not taken,” she admitted. “And also, respectfully, not looking right now, not to break any hearts.”

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

I have some good momentum going so far, which is very helpful at the start of a project like this! I’m also pretty excited, as I realize I may get a chance to write a character I never thought would be more than a footnote in the overall Muunfel project.

Word Count: 1,413 / 15,000

Excerpt:

James Mercy had the loveliest handwriting out of any engineer Guinivere had met since arriving in Genfierz, though even he seemed to write as if he had a strict time limit. His reply to her, given a week’s close thought after her in-person visit, was delivered with care, no matter how carefree he could seem.

Dearest Guinivere and honored mage,

The specifications you mused upon with me during your recent visit have stayed on my mind for quite some time. I freely admit that they present a most tantalizing puzzle. It is little wonder that you, as accomplished in your self-taught field as I, would resonate with me so well. I could expect no less than a keen mind for invention in one such as yourself.

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.

Excerpt: Birth of a Storm

I’ve written here and there about Elias and Cira Dawn, and their time being the strangest pseudo-royal family that their temple has seen in many many years. The interesting thing to note is that Cira was deeply depressed after being declared the Oracle. It meant she could not wander as freely as she used to, and the friends she lost would stay lost out in the world. When she learned she was pregnant, some of her joy came back.


Twenty two hours of labor and the baby still hadn’t come. Cira let out another raspy cry as her body shuddered with pain. The nurses bustled around her like a kaleidoscope of moving figures. Someone held her hand, but between the intense false figures in the room and the storming outside, she couldn’t tell who. All that mattered was the baby that was so ready to come out, but couldn’t.

Something had to be wrong, but Cira lacked the words to ask. The speakers of the temple were standing by, but most of them had no idea what to make of her yet. She was a new Oracle and her prophecies were more obscured than most.

Words simply minced together in her head. After everything that she had seen and done, she was quite rightfully mad. She didn’t usually mind.

Thunder cracked and something in her shifted. Cira cried out a wordless plea, a prayer that she would at least get to meet her child. It was so lonely, being the way she was. The baby, she told herself, didn’t have to understand her. She would love it just the same.

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.

Continue reading “Excerpt: Cira”