Too churchy. Too military (which parallels Behira's church). My better half came up with the name of "Chosen" for the upper levels, "Reapers" for the active-in-crowd, and "Fodder" or "Needlings" for those who are controlled by their base desires.
Thoughts?
I think I'm more concerned how they will address themselves and their superiors if encountered. And I'm writing about the Wolves. I don't mind knowing what my villains are up to, but I don't like to write horror so their story is only going to be inferred. So this story is about the Wolves.
Skin lords sounds nasty, but probably need a different name. I like NJC's idea to break down what they call themselves and what they are called by others.
OK, spoiler alert. Here is a blurb I put down on paper because it was replaying in my mind. You said you were detoxing, NJC. I meant to finish something earlier but never had the time :-)
Kha sat back, leaning into the hard wooden bench. Airen poured a mug of mead from a pitcher, the head frothy and inviting. Tazar sat in the corner, inscrutable as ever. Melody took a break from playing her harp, walking toward them and stopping every few steps to speak with someone. Jaylene sat next to him, her Lance clipped to the chair and protected from an accidental touch. His fake staff was clipped behind him, pretending to be impressive instead of revealing itself as a sham.
The only one who wasn’t here was Conleth, but Kha had placed a drink at his empty seat, as if the lost friend was about to arrive and join their celebration.
He relaxed and leaned his chair back, resting his feet on the brass ring around the table’s central support. They were at Fadie’s place, sitting at their usual table, each in their assigned seat. Everyone was a little older, but Kha didn’t let the details bother him.
He was home. He was with the closest thing he would ever have to family.
All was right with the world.
(time passes. Blah, blah, blah.)
Jaylene sighed, taking a sip of her beer. “Not really. The first day I came back, someone tried to kill me. We never learned who ordered the attack. It involved weird magic. Who has acid for blood?”
All Kha’s goodwill fled out of the building. Did I hear her right? He followed a memory backwards, closing his eyes rather than allowing the raucous patrons to interfere with his thoughts. I’ve heard of this spell. I was sitting at the school, eating dinner. Anver told me. He’d read it in a book found...in Faulter’s workroom.
The rich food suddenly didn’t sit so well.
Tazar leaned forward, a cold glass of water in his hand. “Forgot the meat puppet, Jaybird” he reminded her.
Melody wrinkled her nose. “Do I really want to know?”
Jaylene pinched her forehead, looking tired. “We went below,” she said and pointed to the floor.
Kha mouthed the word, ‘catacombs’ with a question in his eyes.
Jaylene nodded. “As we stocked for the trip, someone used...magic against us and put everyone but Tazar to sleep. If he hadn’t been there, I’m afraid to guess what would have happened. The person who cast the spell wore the shopkeeper’s filleted skin as a disguise. I never caught her.
The back of Kha’s scalp itched and chills ran down his spine. Anver never mentioned that spell, but it has the same nasty signature. His own rule rose up to the front of his thoughts, a dusty memory of days when puzzles like this were fun instead of life-and-death.
To know your enemy, just follow the magic.
Kha tensed, trying to keep his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “What other spells has the enemy used?”
Jaylene shook her head. “I shouldn’t talk about those. They involve secrets that aren’t mine to share.”
I hate it when my truisms are used against me. Kha fought back a surge of irritation. A thought hovered behind his head, fluttering out of sight whenever he tried to look in that direction. Whatever truth it carried, it was important.
Kha held up a finger and Jaylene silenced. She narrowed her eyes and glared as only she could do. “You of all people should know...”
He slashed at the air, closing his eyes. The necromancer in Blossom killed the hamlet and gave life back to everything dead within a half-days walk. The crazy bastard in Waters hunted Sil, trying to harvest her energy as she lay dying. Anver told me of skeletons in the containment jar. Lucas was a puppet of Maalok. I thought the followers in the crypt were their students. There couldn’t be any other reason that so many mages would work together.
Kha pulled his memories back to what started everything. He mentally replayed the shadowbook’s story of the murder of Binen by a hoard of skeletons, creepers, and Maalok.
I assumed he cast the spell that killed the city, but were there others?
Therein lay the problem with everything he’d assumed. Mages didn’t work well together. Each was a godling of sorts, ruled by his or her needs.
For proof, you only had to look at the damned Guild. Nobody ever got along. Not even him and Anver. Apprentices only followed their Master until they got the belt and then they scattered to the wind.
Mages made lousy henchmen.
Someone else was talking and Kha pounded the table for silence, keeping his hand up and closing his eyes again.
He started to speak, his voice hoarse. “What do you call mages who work together?”
There was a relieved chuckle from everyone around the table.
Airen asked, “Is this a joke? I don’t know this one.”
Kha continued, ignoring her. “There were a total of eight necromancers in our Guild. There was one in Blossom when the hamlet died. Another waited in Waters, intercepting me before I could get back to the city. Jaylene encountered two. We saw one leading the hoard at Faulter’s Pass.”
Melody piped in. “I ran into three on my way back to the city.”
Kha opened his eyes but his hand remained still, hovering above the table. “Airen?” he asked.
She shrugged. “No one goes to Aerie. Not even wastrels. You were the only one stupid enough to visit.”
Kha counted. “That makes sixteen, plus the ones we killed at the Games. I ask again, what do you call mages who work together?”
A pregnant silence fell over the table.
Kha’s mouth was so dry, it could have been a desert. “Priests. You call them priests. Jaylene, what religion would decimate itself to kill this city, destroy Behira’s power base, and murder you?”
Everyone turned to Jaylene as her eyes widened...
These were in the book Anver read. From Faulters workroom.
In a group casting, they can make a swathe of creepers. Alone, they can kill and animate a small town(like Blossom) if they sacrifice themselves to the casting. The spell is blood magic and once the caster bleeds out, the spell ends.
Second Skin: skin is filleted and worn by murderer to impersonate the victim.
Fuley's Taint: blood of willing volunteer is replaced with acid or poison to assassinate their target
Heart's desire: blood of victim is used to scry their heart's desire. This is then granted to recruit new members.
Winsel's Loathing: eyes or ears of unwilling victim are harvested and implanted on spell caster and second victim. Caster can see or hear what the victim does.
The Reaping: higher level casters can stay young by taking years from victims
Scent of Fodder: life essence can be sensed in a nearby area.
Is this enough? (I have to write out one of Kha's revelations when he is told of some of these spells. Will publish with a spoiler alert)
Ok, had a thought of how to prove M's battle prowess via showing instead of telling. To learn and keep the skills in hand-to-hand combat, constant practice is required. Consider a training session with the major players. Even better, have the MC or Black John set up a training course in the stable (or kitchen) that involves knife throwing or an ambush scenario. Have the cooks roll their eyes and call it the men's little game'. This way, C can sneak to watch and get caught up in the scenario(just like she did as a child)
Ok, my turn to ask for help. I need to thing of a better name for the bad guys other than necromancers. Too narrow of a box and limits the expectation of what kind of spells they cast. The best I can come up with is blood mages. (That is all that my sleep fogged brain will let me think up right now. Any ideas? Clearly, Death Eaters is already taken.
Just saw this. I agree that the shot limit isn't pertininent to Jha. It applies to someone who is developing their reserve. (It is used with the children at the school).
I'm working! And they haven't glued the door shut at work, so people keep coming inside! I'm getting to it! I'm getting to it!
(GUILTGUILTGUILTGUILTGUILT)
Just have to sit in front of a computer when I'm not bone tired. I have plans...big plans!
I joined the website two years ago. No books published. I've been working on this story for much longer than that, but my learning curve didn't go up till that moment. I've finished the first draft of Anver's story, so I'm satisfied.
(Throws gauntlet down at K) Is that how you post two books a year?
Come closer so I can taunt you a second time...
Ni!
Post the damn thing already:-) if your characters insist on talking, then they win. Consider it raising the sexual tension. Let them fight.
What is a PHB?
I'm in the middle of the seventh shift right now. Tick tock. Watch the clock. Tomorrow I can choose to get things done or sleep and do nothing. I think sleep will lose.
K, Thanks for the ideas on the novellas. Bims used to advise me on doing a non-typical format to get all this material across. I need these ideas since I wouldn't think of them myself.
Love the ideas for making Ganolin's character more of a participation in this story, too. Just have to get time on a computer when my brain isn't fried.
My GM ran it as an episode. Had us all in fits.
When pulling up an inline review, the garbage can is right next to the button I have to hit to view. On a phone, any and all reviews could be lost. Can we move the garbage can somewhere else? Pretty please?
I may have already used this on you guys, but it's so good, I have to share again.
Why can't you run through a campground?
You can only ran. Because it is past tents.
(Love that one :-)
Point taken, NJC.
Too funny, Dirk. Poor K. Guess you're going to have to teach Dirk how to game and role-play. Apparently, curses travel like bacteria. This one seems to be airborne...
Have you heard the song by Sally Oldfield? That almost sounds like it would be her lyrics. (Songs of the Quendi)
NJC, cursing K doesn't work. He's in Canada. Curses don't cross the border. It's illegal.
Arrrrrggghhh! Attack!
I do the same with garage sales. I love spending other people's money and finding them the perfect widget.
Dirk, You're gonna have a harder time with the space bar thing. Since I started typing while looking at my invisibles (space markings and paragraph indents appear on my page as icons), I'm overcoming my bad habits from typing class a million years ago. My new material doesn't have that weakness.
I'll take a look when I get a moment to breath. I like finding reasons for people to rewrite their books and make them shine!
Ask K. He hates my reviews because I make more work for him.
Fie on you both!
Complicated answers to those questions. Not ready to share just yet. I only put those eight chapters back up because Dirk needed a reference and wanted to start at the beginning. They all need major rewrite. I apologize again. When I read them, I cringe. My learning curve has taken me past that level or writing and they all need some major attention.
I'm seriously thinking of adding the Anver/Earthwound chapters to Acts. It just makes sense and is a distinct part of his story.
I'm wearing a disguise if you keep finding ways to kill me in print :-)
