A sprayed my G&T across the screen at that paragraph. The deadpan way it's written is just priceless and something about the dry humour really adds to the character of Athlain. It shows he's more inteligent than the average legion thug and has a good sense of what's happening and the self-awareness to know what he's doing.

And it seems he has. That last paragraph raised an interestng point, how does his loyalty with the Skaal conflict with his loyalty to the Empire? It seems he's about to have his first conflict of that sort which should be most interesting to see. I also sense he might learn more of his father's attitude quite soon...

Anyway the last part wasn't long but it had some fairly major suggestions.

Great piece. Especially liked the bit about axes vs. maces when dealing with creatures of considerably more uniform tissue structure. Also, sympathies upon the bear population of Solstheim should Carnius be thought of as food.

Though it would be the start of a hilarious new joke: Does a bear have trouble taking a $h!t in the woods?

Lastly, the feeling of nausea. I liked how you brought up the nice fact that in normal Bloodmoon, playing through the EEC questline and the main questline have no real repercussions on each other.

But I must ask about the long time since Athlain's been physically ill. When was the last time our boy Athlain ever felt sick? And has there been a noticeable slowing of his aging process since reaching physical maturity?

Why do all the previous posters have the best posts...and say all that I was gonna say?

Heck, even the coffee I giggle-snorted into my nose is now old hat, since Acadian has beaten me to the punch...again...

So I'll just say - what they said = IN SPADES!

Athlain had me going there for a while. While I was reading this chapter (aside from the conversation with the sujamma swilling Unel Lloran), I kept thinking how out of character Athlain’s actions seemed. I know he wants to help the settlement, but what he was being called upon to do seemed, I don’t know, cruel. It was an errand that I would have expected to come from the office of the unpalatable Carnius. I should have known that you would find a way to address any concerns I may have had and tie things together in the last paragraph.

I was thinking of your gentle spirit as the weather turns chill for the year.
Hopefully you have a warm fire and Princess Juneipurr to bring you good cheer.

Although stockings may be hung by the chimney with care,
This year, a little dachshund's spot will be bare.

We know he's in a wonderful place,
But. . . oh what we'd trade for a lick on the face.

Be well, my friend, and have a nice day,
Just know that we are thinking of you and old Trey.

And this from the paladin who claims to know nothing of poetry! You are correct that we are feeling the absence of our faithful beggar watchdog during this holiday season. I commented to Mrs. Treydog just the other day that I was glad he would not have to suffer through another winter. But... I cannot clear the table without thinking, "I will save that bit of turkey or ham or whatever for Trey." And then I am reminded. But the memories are mostly good, because that is the power of memory- we can choose which movies or episodes to watch.

My most heartfelt thanks, my friend.

This post has been edited by treydog: Dec 15 2010, 01:53 PM

All- Excuses are always painful and unseemly, so we will just dispense with that. To quote J.R.R. Tolkien’s wonderful understatement:

“Well, I’m back.”

mALX- It seemed important to me that Athlain’s awareness of the land should not just “shut down” whenever he was doing EEC business- one of those oddities of the plotting in the questlines. Thank you, oh brilliant characterizer, for your praise of my characterization.

Haute- See note to mALX above. Also, you (and Julian) are missed. I wanted to get a little Dunmer/Imperial banter in there- and I wanted Athlain to demonstrate his supposed Speechcraft ability.

Acadian- My apologies to you- and Miss Buffy- for the coffee spraying incident. Your endorsement of my decision to face the dilemma of Skaal versus EEC directly is comforting to hear. And I very much wanted to preserve the ambiguity of the spriggans- they are not evil, nor are they even wrong to defend their trees.

SubRosa- I rather envisioned the spriggans like Tolkien’s ents- trees, only “speeded up.” And yes, I hoped the readers’ sympathies would be conflicted or even against Athlain and his mission. His saving grace (I hope) is that he recognizes the problem, too.

Olen- Glad someone liked that line about Carnius. And I definitely want Athlain to start showing he actually has some intelligence- along with some hard-won wisdom.

Captain Hammer- Some practice at tree-cutting in RL provided a useful background on the futility of bashing trees with blunt objects. And another vote for the Carnius vs. the bears passage- thank you so much. I’ll be here all week- try the meatloaf.

You also note a “mystery” that has been hinted at, but never explicitly answered. And I plan to keep it that way- for a while.

D.Foxy- Thank you, as always, for reading and for responding to my efforts.

Destri- I am humbled by your praise of my poor effort at depth and ambiguity. One of the lessons it took me longest to learn about potential plot holes or out of character actions was- address them directly.

---------------------------------------------------

Once I had recovered from the battle with the spriggans- and the aftermath- I returned to the bar, where Unel was still sitting at his table. When he saw me, he carefully set his drink aside before offering me a chair. I collapsed into it gratefully, and the Dunmer foreman eyed my scratched armor shrewdly.

“You’re alive, so I guess that means you took care of the spriggans.”

He signaled a couple of men who had been standing at the bar. They immediately finished their drinks and headed for the door. Unel followed them at a more leisurely pace.

I think I may have dozed off for a while, still wondering if Korst Wind-Eye truly knew what he had asked of me. While the Skaal shaman was able to feel the land and read its moods, I had completed the ritual for its renewal- and was now actively participating in it destruction. The conflict within me seemed to mirror the violence being inflicted on this harsh and lovely island.

Oddly, my thoughts then turned to Mother’s garden at Indarys Manor, with all its varieties of growing things. And I recalled her descriptions of how barren the place had been when she first arrived, how it was nothing but rock and ash and thorny bushes. But the Blight had gone, and the ash-storms with it. And love and labor and vision had created an oasis of color and life and joy. After so many years of darkness, Vvardenfell had begun to bloom anew. Some of that was the result of human efforts, but mostly, it was the land itself, asserting its will to live and grow. Perhaps Korst knew better than I the resilience of nature, and the futility of our foolish scrabbling in the dirt for ebony. Perhaps time and devotion would heal Solstheim, as well.

My silent pondering was interrupted by Unel Lloran’s return, and with him came further testing. He ambled up to the table mopping his scalp with a cloth, and then uncorked the jug to take a long swallow. He seemed to be considering something for a moment and then gave a loud belch before sitting down.

“I didn’t want to seem unmannerly,” he explained. “But then I decided this is a bar in a mining camp, so who the Oblivion cares?”

I noted from the angle of the light slanting in the windows that not much time had passed and ventured:

“So I guess your crew made quick work of the trees?”

The Dunmer blew out his cheeks in exasperation and replied, “Not quick, no. Not exactly. Or, to be honest, we did not manage to get anything done. Even with the spriggans gone, for which I thank you, our axes and saws can’t seem to make a dent in those trees. Some kind of magical heebie-jeebie, I guess.”

He reached for the sujamma again. “Anyway, we can’t start building until the trees are gone. Maybe if we could get to the roots- but we’d have to go underground for that. And those roots must be really deep- too far to dig, especially in this ground. They’re probably as tough as the trees themselves, not to mention the frozen soil and the rocks.”

A thought seemed to occur to Unel then, and he gave me a speculative look. “If any of the miners have run into those roots, they’d know it. I’d take a look myself, but… well, it’s dark down there, y’know?”

Yes, I did know about the darkness. I knew about the darkness of the mine, a darkness that lived and sighed with the slow respiration of Nirn itself. And I knew the darkness of other places, like tombs and barrows, where unquiet spirits chittered and clutched at the warmth of the living. Mostly, I knew about the darkness we all carry with us, even when we walk in the clean light of the sun. So the mine held no fear for me- I would not encounter anything worse there than what I brought with me. Without a word, I rose from the table and left the bar.

Inside the mine, I wandered the echoing tunnels until I found a Dunmer foreman who gave his name as Aldam Berendus. When I asked him if the miners had run into any roots, especially any that seemed unusually tough, he nodded immediately.

“Yes, we’ve had a real problem with them- had one whole passage blocked off. We couldn’t hack through them with any of our tools- broke half-a-dozen picks trying. You can see it for yourself; just go through the door at the end of deepest northern cutting.”

Following Berendus’ directions, I went deeper into the tunnels, turning and twisting, but always tending to the north. At the end of a short shaft, I found some piled timbers forming a barricade, as well as several broken pick handles. I moved the timbers aside and took a torch from one of the brackets. At the end of the passage was a pool of water- along with a tangle of massive, gnarled roots. When I stepped closer, the edge gave way beneath my feet and I found myself in the water. It felt almost as if something was holding me down as I struggled to get my head above the surface. At last, I got clear of the roots and was able to take in a great lungful of the damp air. I wasted no time getting out of the pool- or out of the mine.

Unel was still in the bar, his mug centered in front of him. When I described the roots, he stood up and said,

“That sounds like what I was looking for. Can you take me to them?”

After my previous experience, I was a bit reluctant, but if Unel could overcome his fear of the dark, I would, too. When we entered the blocked passage, I stayed well back from the pool. I had already had one bath- and it wasn’t even Sundas. Unel stood for a while, examining the roots and scratching his chin. Finally he clapped his hands together decisively and stated:

“This sure looks like the place. And if it is, there’s something we can do about it. The trees are obviously drawing water from that pool, so if we put something in the water that they don’t like, it should weaken them enough that we can get them down.”

He fell silent again, the hand that had been scratching his chin rising to rub the back of his head.

“What I need is some bittergreen leaves- five or six should do it.”

Every alchemist carries a supply of bittergreen; it is an aid to thinking and can be made into a refreshing tea. I found the packet marked with Athynae’s script and handed the dried leaves to Unel. He stepped carefully to the edge of the pool and crumbled the leaves in his hands, letting the powdered debris fall into the water. He came back to me and said,

“Perfect. That should do it. Let Falco know that it will take a few days, but we should have the trees down within the week.”

When I told Falco of Unel’s plans he nodded and replied, “That’s excellent work. We need the space for expansion. But the spriggan attacks also show that I need to do more to protect the colony. You’ve done good work, Athlain, but I can’t keep relying on you alone. That’s especially true when the Legion could call you away at any time. I don’t think Carnius’ influence goes that far, but we can’t take the chance. I’ve decided to hire some guards.”

He squared his shoulders and explained, “That’s within my power as colony manager, and the Factor can’t override my request. Some of the miners and other workers might be willing- it would mean a pay increase, to compensate for the risk. But- I would like for you to ask around. I have a couple of reasons- first, if I asked, they might think it was an order, and I don’t want anyone to feel coerced. Second, you have the experience to choose volunteers who know one end of a blade from the other. Ask around and let me know what happens.”

What a nice little surprise Christmas present from you Trey! Enjoyable as ever to read, of course.





That's Morrowind dialogue for you... I'm slightly surprised Athlain didn't roll his eyes at this one. In fact, he probably did.



Umm...
*grumbles something about coffee and keyboards*




Well, maybe not a blade, per se.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Dec 25 2010, 08:37 AM

Argh! Thomas Kaira already quoted my fave line!



I choked laughing at Athlain's seriousness when he thought that! I got Morrowind for the PC for Xmas, if I ever get the time to play I plan to use Your story, Remko's, and Helena's - as guidebooks, lol.

I see trouble coming from giving "an aid to thinking" to tree roots, but I could be wrong, lol.

So good to see you back, Treydog !!! You have been missed !!!

The conflict within me seemed to mirror the violence being inflicted on this harsh and lovely island.
Brilliantly put. Not only do you illustrate what the EEC is doing to Solstheim, but you also once again show us how Athlain and the island are joined. The suffering of one is reflected in the other.

Perhaps time and devotion would heal Solstheim, as well.
Lovely sentiments, as well as true ones. Which we have already seen in the man with whom the land is joined.


I would not encounter anything worse there than what I brought with me.
Well said Master Yoda, or is it Master Po? Jokes aside, the entire paragraph this was part of deftly illustrates not only the world-weariness in Athlain, but also how far he has come as a person since the beginning of your tale.

This is a lesson I have learned from you. There is nothing more disarming to a game-induced plot inconsistency than for the lead character to ponder the very question aloud and scratch their head.

A new treydog story! What a wonderful Christmas present!

This reminds me of the words of a Randy Travis song: 'Since the phone ain't ringin', I assume it still ain't you.'

I love how you are giving Athlain a mystical feel for the land. Nowhere better shown than in these two passages:

Here you tell us so very much about the mer in so very few and carefully assembled words!

A chirstmas present. Most of what I thought has already been said, the mirroring between Athlain and the land is well done and I think might become important later but his actionas also show flaws in his character. He could tell Falco where to go with the whole tree killing business, but he doesn't because he seems to want the simple direction orders offer. He's thinking more now though and I could see him refusing when he realises its an option.

So as ever the characters live and breathe and have their strengths and weaknesses, just like real people. His talking to miners should be most enjoyable because of this, but the real treat will be the bit after...

More? Please?

Ah, magical heebie-jeebies. The bane of any undertaking in Tamriel, and the Mages' Guild biggest opportunity for market expansion.

With Value-Driven Customer Satisfaction, and Paradigm Shifting Market Approaches, you could see some high levels of Demand Oriented Business Expansion. (And the word "expansion" officially gives me buzzword bingo.)


Yep. If only there was something that people could hold, that gave of light and warmth, such as in the form of a fire, and could be held in one hand, and possibly used to set problematic wood on fire...


Now, this is mostly a nit, but wouldn't Athlain have more experience in choosing volunteers that know one end of a mace from another?

I feel a pain
from missing Athlain
And though I'm not gay
I miss Athynae
Unless you want to see more of these prose
You'll add a chapter before everyone throws
up.

* Anon E. Mouse

******************** And now for some real torture:


The hunting dog scented along the ground as he ran. The trail was a long one. It started with the afternoon sun beginning to settle across the horizon. Now the early morning fog mingled with the steam that rose in a mist off his heaving flanks. A tiny grey squirrel clung to his dampened neck, her nails clutching tightly into his undercoat; her eyes masked by a blackened band of ragged cloth.

Sighting his prey, the hunting dog arched his head to the air, still on the full run. A low sound rumbled deep in his stomach and rose up through his gaping mouth. The baying heralded his arrival like a trumpet may herald the arrival of a king.

As he neared the object of his search he slowed. He was not the first to arrive. On the doorstep was a large wolf, his thick fur the color of a virgin snow. Beside him stood a slender fox, whose shiny black coat could easily cause him to be mistaken for a mink. (not minx) His eyes were cunning though. He had been the first to arrive.

The black fox eyed the newcomer for an extended moment before slowly dipping his eyelids for a sliver of a second; allowing the newcomer to approach.

The three set up a baying at the doorway of their prey. The ghostly howl of the winter wolf floated in the air as if part of the wind itself. The dogs deep bays nearly drowned out the soft yips of the black fox; almost, but not quite. The high-pitched chatter of the squirrel bombarded the little dachshound's ears like the keening of a banshee; even through the thick walls of the structure surrounding him.

Inside the safety of the barricade created by the walls and stout doors of his home, the long haired dachshund climbed over the back of the couch and peered down to the trio on his doorstep, then his eyes fell on the offending squirrel clinging to the back of the large hunting dog; all now illuminated by the early morning light.

With a sigh, he turned his head away from the sight, staring across the room as if seeing beyond the interior walls. A soft rustle caused him to look up in time to catch the motion of his wife gliding into the doorway, her long red hair gleaming in the morning light that was just beginning to filter in through the windows.

"Not again?" Her eyes showed sympathy for the little dachshund, but her mouth formed the words, "You know what you have to do."

Drooping eyes scanned across the room and fell on the metal box of the computer, the keyboard had a light film gathering from lack of use. With another sigh, the little dog climbed into the chair, pushing his paws down on the button that would set the computer whirring. His paws hovered over the keyboard, and then suddenly an inspiration hit.

"Yes! Yes!" He barked excitedly. His paws flew over the keyboard in a flurry of activity.

Hearing the tapping sounds emerging from withing the structure, the black fox, the winter wolf, and the hunting dog turned and silently slid into the mountains around them like ghosts evaporating into the forests of pine; each returning to their respective dens to await the food that would sustain them.

"Aaahhhh" They all sighed contentedly when the words came across the screen, "Blood on the Moon - Part 2, Last post by: treydog.

******* Hunting Dog

******* Hunting Dog Sad Faced Due To No Updates On This Thread:

****** Hunting Dog Climbing 15 Foot Up Tree To Peep In At Long Haired Dachshund

******* Sad Gray Squirrel (mALX)

******* Black Fox (Foxy)

******* Winter Wolf


*

This post has been edited by mALX: Apr 2 2011, 02:47 PM

@ Thomas Kaira- Many thanks for reading- and for highlighting a couple of my own favorite passages. It is true Athlain is hopeless with any sort of sword- but he is cursed with the knowledge of what good swordsmanship “should” look like.

@mALX- And a tip of the doggie ears to you, as well. And trust you to recognize that it seems odd to give already “magical heebie jeebie” trees something that could increase their sentience!

@SubRosa- My most humble thanks to you. One of the most important role-playing devices for me is to at least ACT as if the character’s actions have long-lasting effects- whether the game reflects them or not. Growing up in or near “coal country” has presented much firsthand experience of what happens when we tear into the earth and leave the “waste products” strewn across the landscape. And Athlain’s journey to “oneness” with the land is perhaps the most significant one he will take…

@Acadian- Thank you my friend. I have learned so much from you and Buffy about making the people in my stories live and breathe. The gardens at Indarys Manor are significant- because they show how Vvardenfell has changed since the end of the Blight. And they also show that, whatever his paternal heritage, Athlain also comes to his “feel” for Nature from his mother, as well.

@Olen- You indicate an important part of Athlain’s character- his desire for guidance and direction. Even as he “rejects” his own father- he seeks to fill the vacuum with surrogates. And in doing so, he is beginning to understand himself and his family. And- as I noted to Acadian- many of the excellent writers here have taught me by example how to populate a story with a whole cast of individual, 3-dimensional supporting players.

@Captain Hammer- I bow before your mastery of buzzwordiness… And yes, Athlain is better with blunt weapons- but he watched an awful lot of sword training at Fort Darius.

@Everyone- A word of warning- or perhaps two- what follows is a short post, one that has been “mostly written” for some time. I do not currently have anything else ready to go- and am uncertain when that will change. But- it is my hope that by beginning once more- I will begin once more. To paraphrase Barbara Hambly- “To be a writer, you must be a writer.” Sound advice which I will try to follow.

-----------------------------

When I mentioned my assignment to hire guards, Julian’s gaze sharpened and she gave me a probing look. Her tone was carefully neutral as she asked:

“And when you were tasked to hire the guards, it was your understanding that the sole purpose was for the protection of the colony? There was no indication that there was any other reason?”

I thought I knew what she was asking, but I had learned the hard way that “filling in the blanks” or volunteering information was a bad idea. So I contented myself with the truth:

“To my knowledge at that time, the guards were to be hired to protect the colony.”

After I left Falco beneath his favorite tree, I took some time to consider the problem. As with most such situations, I tried to think about how Senior Trooper Carbo would handle it. Well, in the first place, he would never have found himself in this position. If it had been the Legion, he would have lined up the “volunteers” and yelled at them for 20 or 30 minutes straight. He would have remarked on their ancestry (questionable), their posture (atrocious), and their prospects for surviving the next six weeks (highly unlikely)- never repeating himself once. When you made your mark on that paper, the Legion owned you, body and soul.

But these people worked for wages, for the chance at a better life. Some of them even had families here. So I needed to tread carefully. If I insulted one of the men or elves of the colony, he might insist on settling it by combat. And then I would have to kill him. So- no yelling, no abuse, no talk of maggots or stupidity or the irretrievability of crania from bodily cavities. For just a moment, I felt almost nostalgic for my first days at Fort Darius.

In any event, I did not immediately approach anyone. Instead, I sat on a stump to watch the shift change. I wanted to see how the miners and other workers moved, how they acted around one another. Despite what Falco had said, choosing guards had less to do with how they handled weapons than how they handled themselves. A man who could swing a pick could be taught to use an axe… But his attitude was something else. The loudmouths and the bullies I dismissed out of hand. They were certainly combative enough, but I wanted guards - not brawlers. Giving any of those fellows authority would be like pouring naptha on a fire.

Likewise, I passed on the ones who shuffled along with their eyes downcast. No confidence was almost as bad as too much. By the time the crowding around the mine entry had cleared, I had marked three or four who I definitely wanted to speak with. The ones I wanted were the ones who walked with confidence, who the would-be toughs avoided. It is a common fallacy that bullies lack courage. That is not always true. They are, above all, opportunists. They pick on the weak because the weak are easier to pick on and they get more reward for their effort.

And that reminded me of one more of Senior Trooper Carbo’s stories. He had been the
”spear-carrier”- literally- on a recruiting trip to Bruma. The officer in charge had told him to “look for men who will do well and survive in the Legion.” When Carbo pointed out a huge Nord with a hideously scarred face, the officer nodded slowly and said,

“Maybe. But I would rather have whoever gave him those scars.”

So I did not want the bullies- I wanted the folk the bullies left alone.

The first prospect I approached was an Imperial who appeared to be about 30 years old- at least until I got a good look at his eyes- they were much older. When I introduced myself, he warily shook my hand and gave his name in return and got right to the point:

“Afer Flaccus- what is this about?”

“It’s a job offer. But why don’t we go inside the tavern and I will buy you a drink and explain.”

He accepted my offer, so we went into the tavern and found a table. When we were seated and had our drinks in front of us, Afer gave me a long look.

“I already have a job, but then, you know that. So- I will ask you again- what is this about?”

The Imperial did not mince words- so I didn’t either:

“Raven Rock is growing. And there are problems with that growth. Wild creatures- wild people- Falco has authorized me to hire guards. He will pay for equipment, plus a better wage than you are making as a miner.”

I glanced at the hands Afer had wrapped around his tankard.

“And I can see from your calluses that you have used a sword before this.”

He grunted and took a swallow of his drink before answering shortly,

“Caravan guard. I thought I would enjoy seeing the world. Mostly, I saw the rear end of the horse in front of me. Say what you want about Solstheim- there are no horses here.”

He paused and I finished the thought for him: “But there are plenty of horses’ ‘rear ends’ wherever you go.”

He tipped his tankard at me in salute and took a long drink. “Right.” He set the ale down and rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I can’t say I exactly enjoy grubbing after ebony down in those tunnels. Truth is, I wouldn’t have taken this job, except for the fact that at the time I was more interested in which ship was leaving soonest, rather than its destination.”

That presented a problem- perhaps more than one. Even though I was not currently acting on behalf of the Legion, I still could not simply ignore the presence of a possible criminal. Nor could I justify handing him armor and a sword. But- I had already made the offer; it would be difficult to withdraw it now. At last, I decided one circumspect question ought not lead to a bar brawl with my first prospective guard.

“And your desire to leave Cyrodiil- was that prompted by official interest in you- or, ahh- personal business?”

or the irretrievability of crania from bodily cavities


“Maybe. But I would rather have whoever gave him those scars.”
Someone's been watching The Magnificent Seven!

Athlain shows quite a bit of wisdom in his recruitment decisions. You can always teach someone how to fight, but you cannot teach them guts, or sense, or loyalty. Pappy Vitellus would approve!



nits:
And that reminded me of one more of Senior Trooper Carbo’s stories. He had been the
”spear-carrier”- literally- on a recruiting trip to Bruma. The officer in charge had told him to “look for men who will do well and survive in the Legion.” When Carbo pointed out a huge Nord with a hideously scarred face, the officer nodded slowly and said,
The forum added a line break into the middle of your second sentence.

Welcome back! What a delight to see this update!

Well, down to the business of hiring some guards. I loved Athlain's studied observations and logic and was totally on board with him. Plenty of wisdom there and I was as happy as he was until his dismay struck both of us. Uh oh. Gots to add asking about a criminal background to his recruiting checklist. Something tells me though, that all that smart pre-screening he did will serve to be more important in predicting what he is looking for than a candidate's past. Then of course is the difficulty of assessing if the interviewee is truthful. I bet you can trust your gut here, Athlain.

Sweet waters, green paths and a deep well of inspiration to you, my friend.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!! TREYDOG !!!!!! WOO HOO !!!!

In your usual brilliant way you quietly set scenes so real we can visualize them, and bring characters into your story and develop them before our eyes - all using only a few lines - AWESOME WRITE ... and you have been SOOOOO missed !!!!

Yay

It's great to see this continued. Athlain is a great character and I enjoyed his thoughts. His reminising of Fort Darius and Carbo gave a nice feeling of history to him (and showed he learnt his lessons) but it also made another point (or two). Athlain is becoming a match for his rolemodels now, he can lead, he's bright and he knows how to kill things. It shows how far he's come on and makes me wonder what will happen if (and I hope when) he meets Carbo again. It should e interesting to see the change in their dynamic.

I echo Acadian on the wisdom of his choices, though a shade more discussion may have been wise first to avoid his current predicament.

Anyway I hope you find the time/ inspiration/ long spring afternoons with a couple of ciders sitting on the proch with a laptop and cat required to continue this

Two excellent chapters:

This is Destri green with envy over a passage that was positively chilling!


Clearly Falco has never seen Athlain with a blade!

Like ‘Rosa, I was immediately reminded of The Magnificent Seven when Athlain ruminated on the sizing up of scarred men! I wonder what Athlain is prepared to do if Afer tells him that his affairs on the mainland are none of his concern? I don’t see Athlain invoking the authority of the Legion, just as I don’t see Afer becoming overly pugnacious if the job offer is retracted.

Of course, I may be wrong on both counts.

On the subject of inspiration and continuing:

Don’t beat yourself up too much over it, trey. Chaplin suspended the production of City Lights for months while trying to court the muse for an idea that eventually constituted five seconds of screen time. The muses are fickle mistresses, and they bore and tire easily. Sometimes it is simply beyond our power to sustain their affections, so they fly off. The good news is that, wherever they go, they eventually tire of the goings on in that place and come back to see how we have been getting on in their absence. They take pity on us because we are simply hopeless without them. So they stay just long enough to grow bored and tired all over again.

Can you tell that I have been going through a bit of this myself?