Sunday Afternoon Thoughts...

Starting to feel better, both in the water and in general.  I put on maybe five or so pounds in the offseason--over the late Fall--and with all this snow since then, it's been really hard to do, well, anything.  But like I've said here over the past few days, I've finally gotten back into the water, and with the new knee brace, I can even run.  I feel good.  Swam 15 x 100 in descending sets of 5, on 1:30, 1:25, and then 1:20, and I actually felt good the whole way.  On the first 100 at1:25, I even managed to get in at about 1:05.  That's almost respectable!  After that, I did about 40-minutes of yoga and then ran 3 miles, pain free.  Life is good.

By the way, can I just mention that all the folks in their cars were giving me dirty, hateful looks while I was running?  It's true.  It's like they've never seen a guy jogging before.  Ugh.  It's always got to be some 50-something-year-old beer belly driving a mid-70's vintage Oldsmobile.  *sigh*   But seriously... I hate those guys.

On the gaming side, I put together a concept for a game that folks seem to like called Minions of Evil.  Considering the response in just a single day, I really wish I had the time to actually put the game together and run it, but unfortunately, I don't see that happening.

On the downside, when we woke up this morning, we had yellow water.  Turns out that there was a fire down the street, and it stirred up the sediment and rust in the water main.  It took a few hours, but the crud finally settled out, and now we're more-or-less back to normal.

And that's about all I got.  I wish I had more time and energy for writing and/or for running some more online games, but as much as I might want to, the simple reality is that the time just doesn't exist.  Maybe one of these days...

Long Swim!

With all the snow lately, there hasn't been much choice besides swimming.  So this morning, I headed out and did my longest swim workout since college!

3 x 100 free @ 1:45 -- Warm-Up

3 x 300 free @ 4:15  -- Main Set: Base 1:25/100
3x 200 free @ 2:50
3 x 100 free @ 1:25

8 x 50 kick @ 1:00

5 x 200 pull @ 2:55

4 x 100 free @ 1:25

50 Warm Down --- Total: 3950

If you're wondering, the pool was only open for an hour, and they had lessons coming in, which is why I had to cut the last 50 off my warm-down.  Still, not a bad swim. 

At this point, I've been in the water regularly for three weeks, and I'm starting to think seriously about making a real bid to try to win this year's Greenwich Point One-Mile Swim race.  Of course, Sally wants me to do the Swim Across the Sound, but I'm not sure I have quite that level of masochism in me.

Sixteen Inches!

We got another sixteen inches of snow last night, but the real problem was the rate at which it snowed--4 inches/hour.  That completely overwhelmed Metro-North's ability to keep up, and this morning they shu down the New Haven line into New York City.  On top of that, there are multiple tractor-trailers jackknifed on I-95, and the State shut down the Merritt Parkway, meaning that,bottom line, I'm stuck at home today.  That might not be a big deal for most folks, but I work in the Energy Control Center in Manhattan, considered a vital job even in the middle of an emergency and/or blizzard. 

Anyway, I called in for an unscheduled vacation day, and my boss was cool about it, which was nice.  And more to the point, he actually lives in the City, which means that at least SOMEONE is in the office, and that's the important thing.  We have enough redundancy that we can afford to have some folks out from time to time.

In the meantime, I've been working on Sellswords, and I plan to swim and/or do some serious power yoga today.  Beyond that... playtime? 

Well.  That doesn't suck.

Update: Knees and Storytelling

Alright, so I finally got out to see the knee doc yesterday.  I have what's called a Plica, which is apparently a fold in the cartilage in the inside of my knee.  It's causing the clicking and the pain, but it's not too serious, and unless I'm a maniac, I can probably get away without surgery.  He prescribed a brace and told me to keep running but to take it easy until it finally calms down.  He also told me to use an over-the-counter anti-inflammatory (i.e. Advil) before I run.  So I tried that yesterday, and it was awesome.  I made about 2 and a half miles, pain-free, and I felt fucking GREAT afterward.   Hooray!

On the writing front, I think I'm finally starting to get this opening together.  The issue, if you're wondering, is that my last (first) book went off the rails in the first chapter.  I set up the wrong story questions early, and that informed the rest of the story, throwing the whole thing off a little.  It wasn't necessarily a disaster--I mean, I could fix it--but looking back, it was a serious pain in the ass, and without a good reason for fixing it, I can't see the point in dumping probably two or three months into a project who's future is to sit unread on my hard drive. 

Look, I don't think that the book was terrible--I mean, I'm pretty sure that it's at least readable--but it isn't all that it could be.  I didn't sort of explore the world that I built it in adequately because a good bit of the attitude is just... off.  But that's what happens when you start out with the wrong basic story question.  All of which means that I'm trying to pay a bit more attention to my opening questions this time.  And then, too, this new story is a lot more complex, which is to say that there are more characters and more viewpoints, and I'm trying to use a lot more attitude in the writing.

Eh.  Again, it's not like I'm gonna send this thing to a bunch of publishers, and that's even if I actually buckle down and write the whole thing.  With that in mind, I've been thinking about just finishing the sci fi novella I started for my girls over the summer.  They'd probably like that, and at least it'd get read.

Anyway, now it's Sunday, and I'm amazingly excited about the Jets game.  Who'd'a thunk it?

Chapter 1: Still Searching for Motivation

Here's what I've got so far for Chapter 1.  I'm posting it now because I can't figure out if I need to stop here and switch the scene or keep going and work through to the scene where we introduce Modor.  The problem with the next scene is that I can't figure out what the point is.  I mean, I know that we need to introduce the characters, but within that obvious context, the characters need some kind of goal--and some kind of disaster to end the scene and keep the tension high.

I also need to introduce our some of our other characters, like the bladedancer Araviss and the necromancer Talisa and her goblin priest Vilavarex.  And I don't want to spend 10,000 words introducing shit.  So... your thoughts here?  Is this a first chapter, a first scene, or do I need to finish through and develop the rest of this idea?

***

“Let me get this straight,” Gaibel said, “you want to go to Caer Lucan?  On purpose?”

“Yeah,” Kel replied.  “And so do you.”  He held out the Commission Sheet he’d taken off the bulletin board back at the Guild Hall.  “Look.  Fifty golden eagles.  Fifty!  And that’s just for making the meeting.”

Out in the street a crier called to the passersby.  “Hear me!  Hear me!  Men of the Free Cities, the Lord Commander calls all true patriots to arms.  The Legions of the Shellantyr Empire are marching, and only the men of the Free Cities can—“

Kel and Gaibel both stood, trying not to listen.  Behind them, old Bruno laughed.  His fat belly jiggled, and the brandy in his bottle sloshed in time.  “You think you can just walk into Caer Lucan?  Fifty eagles ain’t no bargain for a suicide mission, pup.  Should’a saved yer coin like old Bruno ‘stead’a spendin’ it on them fancy knives.  Then you could’a spent the winter sittin’ on yer fat arse and drinkin’ like I plan to.  Now look at ye.  Scramblin’ around like a rat in an empty larder.”  Bruno shook his head.  “Guild’s goin’ to the Hells these days.  Guess they’ll just take any old fool anymore, right Gaibel?”

“Shut yer hole, Bruno,” Gaibel snapped.  He turned to Kel.  “Fat bastard’s got a point though, kid.  Caer Lucan ain’t no vacation spot.  And fifty eagles ain’t exactly a fortune.”  He pointed at the crier.  “Ain’t’cha gonna sign up with the Lord Commander?  ‘Men of the free Cities’ and all that? ”

“—nly the courage of the Men of the Free Cities can stop the invasion,” the crier called.  “Hear me!  Hear me!  Men of the Free Cities—“

“’Men of the Free Cities’ my arse,” Kel said.  “You think just goin’ to Caer Lucan is a suicide mission?  Going up against Imperial Legions is suicide, Gaibel.  Everyone knows that.  That’s why no one wants to join up.” 

Kel sighed.  Gaibel was a dwarf.  Four feet tall, maybe sixteen stone.  Stout even by dwarven standards.  Round belly—Hells, his belly was almost as big around as Bruno’s—and nigh-on perpetually drunk.  But strong as any pair of oxen, and a berserker in a fight.  Kel looked down at his friend.  What did Gaibel care about the odds of surviving the war?  Long as there was a bit a brandy and a few poxy whores following the camp, Gaibel’d be happy as he could be.   Still, Kel had to try.  Gaibel was practically Kel’s only friend in the Warmaster’s Guild, and Kel didn’t want to head to Caer Lucan with just himself and Modor.  That was like to be as suicidal as taking on the Imperial Legions.

“Look,” Kel said, “it ain’t that I’m not a patriot, but seriously?  The Lord Commander’s got no chance.  He’s gonna raise what?  A few thousand men?  Modor says it’ll be five at most, and they’ll be militia, maybe leavened by a couple companies of mercenaries.  Yeah, he’ll take the Warmasters and a few others.  So what?  It ain’t gonna matter when the Imperials show up with twelve full legions of professional soldiers.  And you know it. 

“Truth?” Kel said.  “The fifty eagles is just a bonus.  Right now I’m figuring that Caer Lucan’s where we go to lay low while the Shellantyr are busy burnin’ the Free Cities down to the ground.  Least that’s what Modor says.”  Kel shrugged.  “After that we can come back and maybe make some money.  Who knows?  I’m sure there’ll be plenty of work for a couple sellswords after the city’s been burnt down.”

“So yer crazy and a coward?” Bruno asked, laughing.  The laugh was ugly, and his breath smelled like stale whiskey.  “Kid, you are one strange puppy.  No wonder yer momma put you out when you was a babe.  She pro’ly dropped you on yer stupid head one too many times and decided to give it up as a bad job.  Can’t say I blame ‘er, though.  Ugly git like you?  Hell, I’d’a sold yer arse to the Shellantyr and been done with it, myself.  But hey, a gutter whore ain’t always got that kind’a options, ye know what I’m sayin’?”

Suddenly Kel’s knife was in his hand, the tip of the blade resting lightly against the corner of Bruno’s right eye.  Kel didn’t remember drawing it, didn’t remember deciding to draw it.  Bruno blinked, clearly caught off guard—Hells, Kel was caught off guard—but this time it was Kel who laughed.  “Say it again, fat man, and I’ll feed one’a yer peepers to Gaibel’s dog.  What?  Can’t find yer tongue now?  And you were so funny just a second ago.  What do you think, Gaibel?  Vixen wanna eat this bastard’s eyeball?”

“Ah, put the knife away, kid,” Gaibel said.  “Bruno might be an arse, but this ain’t the time nor the place, and you know it.”

Bruno took a judicious step back, lifting his hands in mock surrender.  “Listen to yer friend, kid.  You might be fast with them blades, but there’s more to it than just slicin’ up the other guy.  You live long enough, might be you’ll learn that.”

“What’d’you know about it?” Kel snapped.  “You’re just some shambling old has-been Bruno, and everybody in the Guild knows it.  What d’you care if I go to Caer Lucan or not?”

“Care?”  Bruno laughed.  “Listen puppy, the beautiful thing about bein’ a ‘shamblin’ old has-been’ is that I don’t have to care.  Hells, kid, I made my rep ten years before you even heard o’ the Warmasters’ Guild.  I been livin’ on a pension practically longer than you been alive.”  Bruno stepped out into the street, got ready to walk away.  “Look.  You wanna go to Caer Lucan, I say ‘Salut!’  The Lord Commander could use you, but what do I care?  Like you said, it’s probably a lost cause anyway.  But if you think Caer Lucan is gonna be better, then kid, you really are out of your mind.  Least the Lord Commander’s goin’ in for a straight-up fight.  I mean, they call Caer Lucan ‘The Damned City’ fer a reason.  Ain’t nobody hardly never come back from that place, and that was even before the fire and the damned plague.”  Bruno shrugged and started to walk away.  “But hey, maybe you’ll make it back and prove me wrong.  What do I know?  In the meantime, enjoy those fifty eagles, kid.  Yer gonna earn ‘em, trust me.”

Kel watched him walk away, feeling more than a little helpless.  What did Bruno know?  The guy was a certified horse’s arse, and everyone knew it.  Eventually Kel slid his knife back into its sheath.  “Bastard.”

“Eh.  You got that right, kid.”

A beat passed, and Kel watched the people.  With the invasion, there was a fear, a tension in the air.  On the streets.  Even in the streets of Jakara, the greatest city in the world, you could feel it.  You could see it in the way the men carried themselves, the way the women bargained at the marketplaces.  It was a bad scene, and they all knew it.  Folks were scared, and they had reason to be.  Personally, Kel didn’t want to be in town when the Imperials came and burned it all down.  And the Plague had been ten years ago.  Surely things must have gotten better since then. 

Hells, Kel thought, somebody must’ve survived.  Else, how’d they post that commission sheet in the Guild Hall?    At length, he said, “Come on, Gaibel, what d’you say?  Fifty golds, and we ride out the invasion in some hole up north.  That’s not too crazy.  Is it?”

“And you say this was Modor’s idea?” Gaibel asked.

“Yeah.”

Gaibel shook his head.  “Kid, I think I’m too sober to be havin’ this conversation.  Come on.  Buy me a drink, and then let’s find us some whores.  This’ll make more sense once I’m half off my rocker.”

 Kel laughed.  “Bel’s tits, Gaibel.  Always you and the whores.  What is that?”

“Yer talkin’ about headin to Caer Lucan and don’t even wanna get yer ashes hauled first?  Hells, I don’t think I’m the one what’s got the problem here, kid.”

“Whatever you say, old man,” Kel said.  He smiled.  Gaibel was going to say yes.  “I’m s’pposed to meet Modor at the Bloody Mermaid at sundown anyway.  Knowin’ him, he’ll already have a bottle of the good stuff open on the table.”

“Should’a opened with that, kid.  Could’a saved us some time and heartache.”

“Just wanted to be honest with you, Gaibel.”

“Shite.  Honesty’s overrated.  Like, you’ll learn that in Caer Lucan, though.”

“Long as you’re there to teach me,” Kel replied.

At that, Gaibel stopped dead in his tracks.  The street was crowded, and passersby jostled both he and Kel relentlessly as they passed.  More than a few stared.  Kel stared back.  Gaibel ignored them, staring instead at Kel.

“What?” Kel said.  “I thought you wanted a drink.”

Gaibel shook his head.  “What’ve I gotten myself into with you?”

“Nothing you’ll regret, I expect,” Kel said.  “Unless you’d rather fight the Imperial Legions in some hopeless battle out in the Borderlands.”

“Nah.  I expect you’re right about that.”

“Then come on,” Kel said.  “Modor’s waiting.”

Kel and Gaibel walked down towards the docks district and the Bloody Mermaid.  It wasn’t a long walk, but the streets were crowded with wagons.  Looking around, it seemed to Kel like every farmer on the Great Southern Plain had decided to harvest early and bring whatever he could sell into the city while some sense of normalcy remained.  Most of the wagons were one-horse affairs piled high with half-ripe produce or other goods, and the air itself was thick with the squawks of chickens and the squeal of pigs.  As he passed, Kel saw everything from old furniture to ornate, doubtless handmade quilts piled high in the various carts that trundled down the city’s roughly cobbled streets.  The farmers themselves were uniformly dirty, rural-looking clods who either stared openly at Kel and Gaibel or else pointedly ignored them.  Well, Kel supposed, a hick farmer from the middle of nowhere probably didn’t see regular soldiers every day, much less freeman sellswords. 

That’d likely change, though.

Eventually, they came to a wagon with not only a farmer, but also a couple of maybe ten-year-old boys and a beautiful blonde-headed girl of perhaps fourteen winters.  The farmer wasn’t old, but he looked tired, beaten down from years of laboring in the fields.  Like the rest, his wagon was piled high with grain stocks and corn, but under that was a layer of hard-used furniture, and a pair of large wooden trunks.  Behind the wagon, the farmer had tied a skinny-looking cow, and each of the boys held a pig in his arms.  The girl rode behind the boys and their father ostensibly darning a shirt, but where the farmer and the boys looked at everything suspiciously, the girl stared in wonder at the great city around her, her work practically ignored.  When she looked at Kel, she smiled.

Kel smiled back, touching the brim of his slouch hat and dipping his head in a parody of a bow.  “M’lady.”

The girl giggled, but up at the front of the wagon, her father scowled. 

Kel ignored the farmer, sliding up to the wagon and leaning in close to the girl.  “New to the city, yeah?” he said.  “Might be, you’d like a friend?  Someone what knew his way around a bit?”

At that, the girl’s eyes grew wide as saucers.  She pulled away a bit from Kel, but she kept looking at him, obviously curious.  Up front, her father was more direct.  He put his hand to a nearby pitchfork.  “Ain’t nothin’ fer you here, son.  Best ye be on yer way.”

Kel lifted his hands in mock surrender.  “Was merely admiring your wares, good sir.  Tryin’ to be friendly.  No offense was meant.”

“I know what was meant,” the old man said.  “We don’t want none.  Go on with ye now, and leave my girl alone.”

“But papa—“ the girl began.

Her father cut her off.  “Shut yer mouth, girl.  That shirt best be finished by the time we get to the inn.”

The girl lowered her eyes.  “Yes papa.”

Kel laughed.  “I bow to your ferocity, sir.” He looked at the girl.  “Perhaps another time, m’lady.” 

Kel had to hurry to catch up with Gaibel.

“Pretty girl,” Gaibel said.  “But I guess her da’s got too much sense to let her be talkin’ to the likes of you.”

“Eh.  He can try, but this ain’t the farmstead.  Pretty girl like that?  Like to be somebody’ll turn her out.  Might as well be me.”

“Refugees, kid.  They ain’t here ‘cause they want to be.”  Gaibel shrugged.  “That old man’s got everything he owns piled up in that wagon, girl included.  It’s bad enough he’s got to leave his home and come hide in this no-good, stinkin’ Hell of a city, but then, first thing, some dandy starts chattin’ up his girl.  How you s’ppose he ought to react to that?”

“Shite.  He don’t let he off the chain a little, she’s like to run away.  An then where will she be?  There’s worse than me around here, and you know it.  All I’m sayin’, he ought to let her make up her own mind while he’s still got some influence.”

“Hells, kid.  Your armor’s probably worth more than that wagon.  You said it was alligator hide?  Dumbass girl like that’ll call it dragonscale.  And you want her to choose?  She’ll think you’re some lord who’s gonna make her a lady in a castle.” Gaibel shook his head.  “That ain’t no basis for choice.  We probably made more on our last job than that poor farmer made in the last full year.”

Kel sighed.  Gaibel was right, of course.  His armor really was alligator hide, reinforced with a layer of ringmail over the chest piece.  If Kel had had to buy it, he doubted seriously that he could’ve afforded it, even after having spent three full years as a guild jouneyman.  Fortunately, Kel hadn’t needed to buy it.  At least, not with gold.  He’d taken it off a slaver who hadn’t needed it—on account of his being dead from where Kel’s knife was stuck through his throat. 

Still, the armor wouldn’t have fetched what Kel’s short swords would fetch.  Each sword was a standard-issue Shellantyr gladius, but both had been edged in silver, and the one on Kel’s right hip bore an elven sigil that Kel had had etched right after their last job.  He wasn’t sure that the sigil worked, but it had seemed a bargain at the time he’d had the work done—back when Kel had been flush with coin.  Since then, well… coin was a hard thing for Kel to hold.  They were talking about going to Caer Lucan, after all.  That wasn’t necessarily desperation, but Kel knew it wasn’t the first option of a rich man, either.

At length, Kel and Gaibel turned off the main road towards the docks district.  To Kel’s right, he could see the Green and what looked like a company or more of raw recruits drilling with spears and small wooden shields.  A handful of experienced City Guardsmen barked instructions at the recruits, but the scene was still a disorganized mess that left Kel feeling worse than ever about the coming war.  City Guardsmen were not the same as trained soldiers, and even if they were, the militia’s arms and armor just weren’t equal to the task required.  Even experienced pikemen would struggle mightily against the sheer strength and discipline of the Shellantyr shield wall.  In the hands of half-trained militia, those spears and shields would be little better than rocks and bare fists.

Kel was relieved when they finally turned the corner, and the Green faded from view.  Ahead, the bloody Mermaid rose on a bluff above the docks.  Below, the docks themselves spread out for nearly a mile in either direction.  The place was thick with a forest of masts and furled sails, and a thousand, thousand voices rose out as teamsters, dock masters, ship’s captains, and trading factors all fought to make space, make way, or just make a living out of the chaos of the late afternoon.  It seemed as though five hundred ships had made their way to Jakara for the trading season—likely the last normal such season for quite some time.  As such, the snarl of loading and unloading freight had almost completely overwhelmed even Jakara’s massive capacity for trade. 

Above the docks and beside the district’s main access road, the Bloody Mermaid was a massive two-story timber structure with a wide porch, great swinging double doors, and huge, inviting windows made from finely blown glass plate.  Normally open and inviting, today the Mermaid was thronged with people—mostly roughly-looking sailors or off-duty guardsmen or militia recruits, along with a generous handful of sharp featured whores in low cut, threadbare evening ware.  Evenings in late summer Jakara tended to be at least warm, and this one was no exception.  In deference to the heat, and perhaps the atmosphere in general, the Mermaid had its doors open.  Even from the street, Kel could hear the lilting notes of a well-played harp, accompanied by the voice of what he thought must be an angel.

“You hear that?” Kel said.

“Aye,” Gaibel replied.  “Tavern singer.  Well, don’t just stand there gapin’.  Let’s get inside and see what’s what.”

***

World-Building by way of finding Motivation

Spent some time this week trying to build the world for my book.  Which doesn't make a lot of sense considering how hard it's been for me to write, but who cares, right?  I mean, seriously... who cares?  It's hard to write for an audience of 0 people.  At least for me.  At least right now.  So anyway, maybe I'll put it together, and maybe I won't.  Regardless, here's the bit of backstory development.  Enjoy it and comment on its awesomeness.  Or don't.  Heh.

The Pantheon of the Free Cities

Jove – The All-Father of the Gods.  God of Storms and Harvest.  Called Olinder by the Elves.

Hellicate – Jove’s Wife.  The goddess of Life and Fertility. 

Apollo – Son of Jove and Hellicate.  God of Courage, Knowledge, and Warriors.

Alitiera – Daughter of Jove and Hellicate.  Goddess of Wisdom, the Moon, and Nature. 

 -- Alitiera is also the name of the primary moon, usually white, occasionally orange.

Thoren – Son of Jove and Hellicate.  God of Home, Hearth, and Forge.  Father of Dwarves.

Tyranna – Mistress of Jove.  Goddess of Conquest and Seduction.

 -- Tyranna is also the name of the secondary moon, usually red.

Bel – Daughter of Jove and Tyranna.  Goddess of Death.  Considered an Aspect of Olinder by elves.

Dwarven Pantheon

Thoren – Father of Dwarves.

Hephaestus – Dwarven Patron of Smiths.

Caerditter – Dwarven Patroness of Life and Family.

Doluminael – Dread Keeper of Secrets and Dark Places.

Maelificent – Wife of Doluminael.  Revered as the Great Mother by goblins.

Elven Theology

All elves revere Olinder, the One True God, who exists in four Aspects.  Many, but not all, elven theologians believe Olinder is himself an Aspect of Jove, the human All-Father, and that the rest of the human gods are merely lesser Aspects of Jove/Olinder that, for whatever reason, the One True God has chosen not to Reveal to his Truest People.  Elves disagree about what this portends.  Nevertheless, all elves can channel at least one aspect of Olinder, using it to do what humans consider “fey magic”, though not always with equal degrees of ability.  This leads to a stratification of elven society along caste-like lines. 

Elven Society and the Aspects of Olinder

In Elven theology, Olinder is represented by a four-pointed compass with Helios at the north point, Gaia in the west, Bel at the south, and Arcanus at the east point. 

Helios – the Aspect of Life and Opportunity.  Elves who channel Helios are called “Lights”.  Minor lights are the most common type of elves, becoming farmers, builders, or healers.

Gaia – the Aspect of Nature and Wisdom.  Elves who can channel Gaia are called “Druids”.

• Dualists who can channel both Helios and Gaia are called “Lifesingers”.

Bel – the Aspect of Fate and Death.  Elves who can channel Bel are called “Mortiers”.  

•  --- Dualists who can channel both Gaia and Bel are called “Truthspeakers”.  

Arcanus – Aspect of True Magic and Courage.  Elves who channel Arcanus are called “Magicians”. 

• Dualists who can channel both Bel and Arcanus are called “Necromancers”.

• Dualists who can channel both Arcanus and Helios are called “Sorcerers”.

Elves who can channel all four Aspects of Olinder are very rare.  They become the elven Wise Ones and are leaders of elven society.  Elves who can channel two Aspects of Olinder are called Dualists.  They are also very rare, but not so vanishingly rare as Wise Ones. 

Lifesingers are generally the most powerful and revered of Dualists, and they make up the upper crust of elven society.  They are the kings and High Mages of the elven nation.  Truthspeakers and Sorcerers are next, though they occupy very different places in the social order.  Truthspeakers generally serve as counselors, viziers, or priests, but common elves often find them unsettling.  Sorcerers are considered blessed amongst the elves, and they generally become either wizards or war leaders.

Magicians are the rarest and most revered of Singulars.  They also become often wizards, though lesser wizards than those who are Sorcerers.  Minor Magicians who are trained to fight with a sword are called “Blade Dancers”.  These are the elves’ elite soldiers. 

Below Magicians are Druids.  At least one Druid can be found in nearly every elven village.  Though not generally given leadership roles, Druids—and their control of nature—are utterly essential to the elven way of life.  As such they are well-respected by the common folk.

The very vast majority of elves are Lights.  They channel Life in myriad minor ways, encouraging their crops and generally living to be ancient by human standards.  Still, their “magic” is minimal at best.

The lowest of the low are the Mortiers.  Their powers are often less than those of even minor Lights, and their touch is considered to be bad luck.  Mortiers are often killed by their parents during infancy or sold into slavery.

Like Mortiers, Necromancers are hated and feared by common elves, unlike Mortiers, common elves have good reason to fear Necromancers.  As powerful as even the greatest of Dualists, but uniformly cruel and self-interested, Necromancers command the powers of Death and Magic and are the boogeymen of elven society.  Thankfully, Necromancers are no more common than Lifespeakers.

Beautiful Lazy Sunday

A couple of notes today:

1.  I rearranged the blog a little to make some of my older writing a little easier to find.  A couple of folks have said they want to check out some of my stuff.  That's as cool as it comes.  If that's you, I'll recommend you start with the Proletariat Comics homage page, just to get the flavor of what I was doing when I was writing a lot, and then find whatever interests you.  I'm a geek, so my stuff tends to be, well, geeky.  If you want to read Bronx Angel, and you don't feel like paying for it, hit me on email.

2.  Went to the pool today and just got blown out of the water by some guy I'd never met before.  Wow.  I mean, I know I'm old and slow, and I don't really swim all that much anymore, but still... it was way humbling to just get SMOKED like that.  Hasn't happened to me since I was about 14.  But frankly, it's good to have some competition and motivation in my life.

3.  Been working on the new would-be book.  Got about half the first chapter written--which is a little like saying I saw some girl in a bar (on the other side of the bar), and I think we might make a good married couple--and I'm still pleased with it so far.  It's fun.  At this point, that's what I care about.

4.  The guys on the Major Spoilers podcast read my letter about comics for girls today and then based their show around it.  Made me feel cool to hear myself on their show.  Anyway, here's the link if you want to listen.  I listen to Major Spoilers all the time when I'm on the train or just sitting at my desk at work.

5.  Finally, speaking of comics for girls, I sat down with the girls and watched most of the first DVD of the Justice League cartoon.  Hannah has decided that Hawkgirl is her favorite superhero.  For Emma, there's still no substitute for Batman.

That's all I got.  Go Jets!

The Legend of the Five Brothers

Once upon a time, there were five brothers living in a small village at the foot of Mount Shinjow, the ancient home of the gods.  When the great Empire of Shellantyr, then in its infancy, sent its armies to conquer Mount Shinjow and enslave the gods and their people, the boys’s mother, the warrior queen Tyranna, led the gods’ armies into battle, defeating the Shellantyr and thereby delivering the first check to the nascent empire’s rapacious expansion. 

In victory, Tyranna came to the attention of mighty Jove, All-Father of the gods.  Beautiful, intelligent, and ambitious, Tyranna seduced Jove and soon became pregnant once again.  In this, the All-Father was well pleased.  He offered to make Tyranna herself a goddess if she would but join him permanently on Mount Shinjow.  This she wanted above all else, but Tyranna knew that Jove would rescind his offer and kill her if he ever learned of the existence of her husband and her already-living sons.  To hide them, Tyranna lay with her king one last time and then slew him in his sleep.  Her sons she sold into slavery, sending them into the gladiator pits of mighty Shellantyr City, far to the south.  Then Tyranna ascended, becoming the dread goddess of War, Conquest, and Seduction.  There she remains to this day.

The five boys grew strong and proud, for they came from the stock of the mightiest warrior queen in history.  Together, they fought in the arenas Shellantyr City and triumphed, gaining fame and a following amongst their fellow gladiators.  Eventually, their fame and prowess threatened the very Emperor himself, who ordered them to fight one another to the death in one last great battle, with the winner to claim freedom and Imperial Citizenship.  But rather than fight, the boys made a pact the night before the last battle was to take place: they would stand together.  They vowed each to defend the others against all enemies and never again bend the knee to another in bondage or servitude.

That night, the Five led the Great Slave Revolt.  They killed their guards and assaulted the palace, laying waste to all in their path.  Eventually the brothers and their followers escaped Shellantry City and made their way north, towards the foothills and the Great Forest.  There they lived for many years, taking elven brides and learning the ways of war and of fey magic.  Many were their adventures, and in time, their deeds became legend.  Their own men now, the brothers lived by their oaths and stood together.  Never would they bow or pay homage to another.

Jak ,the eldest, married the elven princess Arisa, a Lifespeaker, and they moved south to where the fertile Southern Plain meets the waters of the Bright Bay.  Here they founded the city of Jakara, the greatest of the Five Free Cities, and Storm Watch, the citadel that watches over the Straits of Olin.

Alin, the Hunter, married Terra, a Druid.  Of the five, they stayed closest to the Forest, settling amid the farmlands of the Fork of the Green River.  There they founded the city of Alintere and pledged its people to watch the borderlands for any sign of renewed Shellantyr aggression.

Willem, the Mage, married Kara, a Magician.  Together they followed the Eastern Star into the Endless Ocean, where they found Moonharrow Island and founded the city of that same name.  Ever did they look to the stars for advice and counsel.

Fredrick, the Scholar, was the youngest, and closest to Willem.  He married Willem’s wife’s sister, named Elaina, a minor Sorceress.  Fredrick and Elaina traveled in company with Willem and Kara east along the Green River to the sea, where Fredrick and his bride stopped, founding River’s End.  But they visited Willem and Kara often, and their people became the Cities’ first Free Traders.

This left only the fifth brother, Lucan, called the Killer, last of the brothers to leave the elven cities of the Great Forest, and by far the deadliest.  Ever the black sheep, Lucan married Tamanee, an elf witch of dusky skin who was rumored to be a powerful Necromancer.  Conscious of his brothers’ disapproval, Lucan and Tamanee moved north and west, beyond the Great Forest and far from the other four settlements.  They and their followers passed through the mountains and their many perils until at last they came to a rocky bay west of the great dwarven stronghold of Mundan’s Gorge.  Here, on an island in a great river estuary, they founded the fortress city of Caer Lucan and the great tower that would with time become the Arcanium.

When all of this was done, Tyranna, the boys’ long lost mother, was pleased.  She laid upon her lost sons and their people a blessing—and a curse.  So long as the Five stand together and keep their oathes, they need fear nothing.  But if rivalry, betrayal, or neglect ever comes between them, then Tyranna herself will smite all five, razing the Free Cities and giving dominion of the World at last to the Empire of the Shellantyr.

So it is written.  So shall it be.

Feelin' Fat

It's true.  I feel fat.

I can't run.  My right knee has been bothering me for so long that my doctor thinks I tore my meniscus.  Had an appointment scheduled for yesterday morning, but with the snow, the doc decided to see only a limited selection of patients.  I ended up taking the kids to swim lessons and then swimming myself, a whole 1200 yards of pure, unadulterated frustration.  In the meantime, I'm still trying to ride as much as I can--back and forth from the train to work and on the weekends when that's possible--but with all of the snow we've had recently, it's been tough.  I suppose I need an indoor bike trainer.  Regardless, even on good days it's only about 5 miles one way from the train station into work.  That's fine and all, but it's not exactly real, regular exercise.  And it's so dark when I get home at nights.

*sigh*

Ah well...  Supposedly, we're gonna go and join the Y later today.  I think.  So maybe I'll be able to start swimming in earnest.  That'd be nice.  I could certainly use the work.  Truth to tell, I don't really miss running much, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to put on that 40-year-old spare tire.