Being Sick Sucks.

Show of hands, who agrees?

Well, at least one good thing is I'm able to catch up on my sleep. And maybe I'll post a bit more on my projects later today.
Stay sneeze-free out there,
Triscribe

Mif's Choice

It was his nose that awoke him. The tantalizing aroma of sizzling meat stirred Mif from his wooziness, and set his stomach to grumbling angrily. Stretching, the boy realized he was laying on a bed of possibly the softest material he'd ever felt. Layers of fuzzy leaves and bundles of strange white fur were mixed with an oddly dappled leather to form what was technically a large nest. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the gloom around him, Mif could see he was at the back of a large, circular room, with walls that looked like seamless wood. A cooking fire sat in a little pit in the center of it, with a pan set on a little stand above it. Besides a large orange mound that laid beside the bed, the only other items of furniture were benches scattered around the other walls, some of them covered with bottles and bowls of brightly colored liquids, others with the assorted components of weapons and traps that Mif recognized as the Bloodfeather's work.
The Bloodfeather!
Memory of the fight shocked him back into a state of terror as the boy realized he must be in her lair. Gulping, he carefully scooted out of the nest, and flattened himself against the orange mound as his eyes darted around, searching for some clue as to where the Bloodfeather woman had gone.
Then he noticed that the mound was breathing.
Mif froze in horror as a massive head lifted up and swung around to stare at him. The beast's deep blue eyes glared down an the boy, and a single snort from its nostrils blew all of his hair back.
"Now now, Hard Luck, the kid's been scared enough lately. Don't you go adding to it just yet." The voice came from the shadows behind him, and Mif whirled around to see the Bloodfeather getting up from her seated position past the other side of the bed. She'd been behind him the whole time!
But despite her initial words, the Bloodfeather now ignored him. She moved to the cooking fire, stirred the meat that sat in pan, then stepped over to one of the benches. Off of it came a couple bowls and spoons, as well as a few bottles that looked like they held some seeds or grains in them.
Over the next few minutes, the Bloodfeather never so much as glanced at him. Even the monster that Mif still stood next to, satisfied with something, put its head back down and returned to sleep. Gradually calming down a bit, Mif eased himself back towards the soft bed. He froze again, though, when the Bloodfeather finished mixing in her spices with the meat, and stood to face him.
"So," She started. "Are you just a servant or an aspiring bounty hunter?"
Mif tried to operate his jaw, but he couldn't make any words come out. After a few seconds that stretched out like eternity, the boy just shook his head.
"No? No what? Not a servant or apprentice?" He twitched his shoulders and shook his head again.
Muttering a curse, the Bloodfeather pinched the bridge of her nose. "Kid. Were you a forced laborer?" Now he was able to nod vigorously. "Did you want to be more than that?"
"No!" Mif said forcefully. Then his eyes widened and he clapped both hands over his mouth. The Bloodfeather just laughed, though.
"Well, at least we've determined you can, in fact, speak. Now, the next question is, are you hungry?" This time, Mif's stomach answered for him.

"Orphan conscript, huh?" Aylon snorted in disgust. "Figures someone like Muscle-hands would take a cheater's method."
"Isn't that how most hunters get their servants and students? Mif asked curiously. The delicious food had gone a long way to making him feel at ease - especially since Aylon had taken the first bite. He hadn't recognized all of the stuff she put in, after all.
"Depends on the hunter. Some think it's better, to get a youngster whose indebted to them. Others take applicants, and a few only take on apprentices under extreme circumstances, or never at all."
"What about you?"
Mif regretted the question the instant it passed his lips, because the woman across from him clenched her jaw and looked down angrily.
"Special circumstances." She said gruffly a minute later. "The same kind that later led me to leave my teacher and come here."
"And... It really was Edercy the Tracker? Who trained you, I mean?"
"Yeah. But his combat training is about the only thing I've tried to hold on to through the years. Speaking of which, what are we going to do about your fighting skills?"
"Mph?!" Caught with a mouthful of food, Mif tried not spew it all out in surprise. Aylon watched him in amusement as he tried to swallow it down too quickly. Finally, the kid was able to speak without making a mess of the words.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, there's no way in I can just let you leave her without doing something to make sure you don't into a worse situation than with me today. For starters: don't stab someone if you're just going to run away a moment later. Second, if you have to stab them, do it in someplace that's going to count." She gestured to the bandage wrapped around the fleshy part of her thigh. "This hurts, but not so bad it didn't stop me from carrying you back here."
"Okay, okay, consider me advised. But I can't stay here!"
"Why not? Where are you going to go? And what are you going to do? Muscle-hands is dead, and so are the rest of the bounty hunters you came here with. Well, all except Edercy, who took off on you all. Face it Mif - there's no good reason for you not to stay here and gain some better skills for yourself."
"What about that thing?" He hooked a finger at Hard Luck. "I didn't believe most rumors about the monsters in this gods-forsaken forest, but if he's any indication, I'd rather not stick around. So, take me to the edge of the trapped zone, and I won't trouble you anymore."
Aylon narrowed her eyes at him, causing Mif to squirm in discomfort. "One problem with that, kid." She said at length. "I'm not going to take you anywhere near the border of this forest until you've figured out how to survive on your own."
Mustering up his own paltry glare, Mif set down his bowl and stood. "Then I'll leave on my own." Now Aylon threw her head back and laughed. Worried, the kid waited until she'd stopped to ask what was so funny.
"Mif, if you want to leave because of the creatures in this forest, then you don't want to wander around here by yourself. Trust me. I've earned enough respect around here to be ignored by most of them, present company excepted. But you? You've got one choice." He watched as Aylon stood and walked to a section of the wall indistinguishable from the rest. The Bloodfeather pushed in one spot, and a panel swung away, revealing the outside world.
The pitch-black outside world, which seemed to be teeming with unfamiliar shrieks and growls. Mif swallowed uneasily.
"Your choice," Aylon continued, "Is to stay here and learn, or go out there and become something's dinner."

The Unfair Reveal

Shan pondered where her talents would best serve in the coming fight. As a mage, she was unparalleled, but as a goddess, there would be others better suited to front line combat. She decided to assume a place with those who had to remain on the sidelines, and if there was a need for a sneak attack, she would oblige.

Just as Shan gathered up her supplies into her sleeve storage, a sudden call came from her message mirror. The elf woman went quickly to answer it, thinking Nentanuk or Sul must be getting in touch with her.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

A touch of cold, harsh energy reached her senses a split second before the mirror shattered, spilling out a roiling cloud of black smoke. Shan fell back, all of her connections to the forces of magic screaming at this intrusion. A figure rose out of the smoke: cloaked and hooded, but with cruelly barbed armor underneath. The only feature she could make of the face was a dull gleam, from bared teeth.

Even without the image amongst the smoke, Shan would have known the touch of that energy anywhere, anytime.

“Crul.” The name caught in her throat like a spiny fishbone. “How are you here?”

“I wanted to pay you a visit, Mother. Isn’t this the way you normally speak to lower beings from your special workplace?” He raised an outstretched hand to her, as if hoping the woman would reach out and connect with his foul smoke.

“Get out.” Shan growled, supporting herself with the table.

“Aw, and here I’d hoped for a better reaction. It has been so long since we’ve spoken.”

“And I hope there is another Turn before the next time!”

He made a tutting sound and dropped the hand. “Is that anyway to speak to your youngest child?”

“After the atrocities you and your ilk have done, consider it lucky I’m speaking to you at all!” She yelled. Behind her back, Shan’s fingers groped for anything she could use to break the message spell and get Crul out of her workplace. Every second his essence lingered here was dangerous.

“Bear in mind, Mother, they are your ilk too. Well, perhaps my wife isn’t, but she was one of your most prized students, once. I think that’s close enough.” A faint shrug briefly concealed the smile, but then it returned, and Crul leaned forward to emphasize the effect. “But on to more important matters. In truth, I came to thank you, Mother dearest. Without your predicted meddling, I doubt matters would ever have gotten this far on their own. Uniting Animkind with humanoid, well done! I truly appreciate all the lives you sacrificed for me - it almost makes up for abandoning us to my brothers’ tender mercies.”

“What are you talking about?” Shan asked, grasping an iron rod that lay on the table.

“Why, this battle! Such a gift from you, after all these centuries.” A sinking feeling began making itself felt alongside her anger, and Shan tried to piece together what her son meant.

“But- the armies- they’re going to stop you. They’re going to stop your followers, and bury you all over again!”

“That’s what they think.” Crul said smugly. “Which is why I commend your efforts, although you had no idea at the time. Thanks to your refusal to participate in the imprisonment of me and my family so many millennia ago, you don’t actually know how we were locked up. Allow me to explain it to you.

“See, we aren’t just buried underneath Koln. The vortice to Drakf is, which is why I decided to set up a fortress here, back in the Third Era. It was my travels to the plane of darkness that allowed me to truly understand what needed to be done with Sarant, after all. But when Sul and Lul came with their forces, they wanted to put us in a prison that wouldn’t need to be maintained. So, that little git Arnaten came up with a spell that put the five of us into the vortice, but then closed the doors on both ends. We’ve lingered here ever since, in limbo, but now...”

That sinking feeling had overwhelmed Shan’s entire body, and it was all she could do to remain on her feet.

“... Now there is a massive force gathered on our front doorstep, ready to do battle and spill blood. All that carnage, all that bloodlust, all that beautifully destruction only serves to make us stronger. When the fight reaches its climax, we will have all the power we need to free ourselves from this prison - and I wanted to thank you for falling into my plan so perfectly.” He bowed to her, and then the image in the smoke began to dim.

“No!” Shan cried, and unthinkingly she lurched forward, swinging the rod about, trying to do something to stop Crul, to stop this-!

A single tendril of smoke shot out from the mass, and dove through the center of Shan’s chest. Her yell broke down to a gasp of pain, and the elf woman collapsed on the floor of her workshop. The image of Crul looked at her passively.

“A pity.” He spoke, rage and hurt finally coming out with his speech. “We could have gone so far, you and I, Mother.” With that, the Dark Immortal ended his spell, and the smoke retreated back into the shattered remains of the mirror.

Shan curled into a ball, all heat fleeing from her body, the numbness invading every muscle and limb. In a tiny corner of her rapidly succumbing mind, the goddess howled at the unfairness of it, screamed in frustration at everything that had gone wrong.

From Gathering Forces, the final installment of my Turning Point Trilogy. Shan is not having a good day, and the battle that has been the focus of every other character in the series is about to have a very unfair twist. /Evil grin
Still gotta get 'em published, though.
-Triscribe

QUACK!!!

"Quick! Grab him!" I lunged forward, but the quacking mess of feathers made a dash for freedom just past my outstretched fingertips. Lydia backtracked from her hasty walk, barely managing to turn our quarry away from the direction of the open pasture.
"He's making a beeline for divider gate!" She yelled to me.
"Good! If Matt can turn him around on the other side, we can trap that stinker between the gate panel and the fence." I called back.
"Won't he remember that tactic?"
"Oh, sure, but this is Steve we're talking about. He's only running for the principle of it. Soon as we get him properly trapped, that duck will leap right into our arms." We hurried towards the divide line, where Lyd's older brother Matt was bent over, arms out the the sides, carefully herding Steve the duck into our usual trap for him. On any typical day, as soon as the bird realized where he was, his quacks would drop in volume and he'd just wait and glare at whoever came to pick him up. Today, though, I noticed he wasn't slowing down. Lydia and I both stopped and stared, dumbfounded, as that stupid duck wriggled through the gap made by the hinges holding the gate panel to its post. Fully satisfied with himself, Steve started to waddle away... Until he heard Lydia's boots thudding into the ground behind him. Then he quacked again and took off once more.
I stayed where I was, trying to figure out what had the duck so worked up. Mom and I were working a petting zoo later in the morning, and Lydia and Matt had agreed to come down and help us gather up critters. We'd already gotten everyone else, and ahead of schedule too, which is very rare. If things had kept going like that, it would be the herald of a very good day.
Steve was not cooperating.
The three of us had been set to trying to catch him, while my Mom hooked up the trailer to her pick-up truck. I took a glance over my shoulder to see that she was just about done, and my eyes landed on one particular pet carrier in the back of the truck. Suddenly, I new why Steve was so worked up.
"Oof!" Matt did a belly flop in the dirt, earning a disdainful gust of air propelled by Steve's flapping wings. The duck did a 180 to avoid running straight into Lydia's legs, scooted under some loops of scrap wire, and ended up in the one place no one would catch him: right under the metal feed shed.
"Well, there goes the rodeo." I heard Lyd say as she bent to look down at the duck. Smiling, I walked past her with my secret weapon in the crook of my arm. Kneeling just a few feet away from the shed, I lowered the critter I had retrieved from her cage in the truck. She hadn't even gotten to cluck twice before Steve exploded from his hiding place and came waddling at his top speed. As soon as the love-struck duck got within arm's length, I scooped him up with my free hand and headed for the vehicle. Lydia and Matt both chuckled when they saw who I had gotten: Ruby, the chicken who was Steve's girlfriend, and constant companion on the farm.
Mom was waiting for me with the open cage. "Well, I'll admit, I was a little worried you didn't think of Ruby a bit sooner." She told me as I walked up.
"Why didn't you say anything, then?" I asked, slipping both birds into the carrier.
"I was having too much fun watching you guys run around on your wild duck chase!"
Parents. Pfff.
-Triscribe

Danger and Death

She started with the team in the north, led by the Hound-man with his barbed nets. The last hunter in line went without a sound, struck at the base of his head by one of her poison darts. A few feet ahead of him, the woman with the chainmail armor made unavoidable clinking when another dart dropped her to the forest floor. Whirling about, the last two hunters in the group drew together, as if the closeness would protect them. Aylon sent one of her crimson-fletched arrows through the throat of the younger one, which caused the Hound-man to jerk back in surprise. He began to curse and turn about, trying to see where her attacks were coming from. She waited until he was looking the opposite way, then stood from the concealing bushes. When the Hound-man turned again, Aylon was mere inches away from him. His cry of shock was halted by a long-handled dagger thrust up through his leather jerkin and into his heart. The body was dead before it hit the ground, and then she was off into the treetops again.
Across the forest, Mif was nearly knocked over by Lewell's sudden turn as a muted shout echoed to them through the forest.
"What was that?" The man gasped, gripping his crossbows with white knuckles. At the head of their line, Edercy the Tracker glanced back at him with a look of distaste.
"The first of our parties to encounter the Bloodfeather." He answered tersely, before continuing through the brush. Als Coonhert spared Lewell a sneer as he went past, while the other hunter in their group, Raiza, looked past him to the north.
"It must have been Miskel's lot." She murmured. "So are we next, or is the great Bloodfeather saving her mentor for last?" Mif also wondered this question, but before he could hazard a guess, the sound of an explosion came from the south. Raiza whipped about, Lewell swore and almost dropped his favorite crossbow, and even Als stopped where he stood. More shouts, and screams, came to them through the trees, and it was clear that Flaming Fury Elsa's group of bounty hunters was faring no better than Miskel Hound-man's.
"We're ready for her, right Edercy?" Als asked over his shoulder. His forced cheer died on his face when the young man realized that the famed hunter was no longer standing behind him.
"Curse that snake." Raiza snarled, hefting up her spear. "He's just led us all to the slaughter!" As the last sounds faded from the southern battle, Mif backed up until he ran into a thick oak tree.
"Edercy's gone?" Lewell's already profuse sweating intensified. "That's it. I'm leaving!"
"Wait, you moron!" Als snapped, but Lewell had already started running back the way they had come. Mif was about to hurry after him when the fat man grunted and dropped to his knees, a shaft of wood tipped with red now sticking out from his back.
"Show yourself!" Commanded Raiza. "I would face the one who seeks my death."
"Then turn around."
The voice was grim and hateful, the woman it belonged to more fearsome than these hunters. Raiza whirled in a half-circle that brought her face to face with Aylon the Bloodfeather. Only a spasm backwards saved her from the knife that curved upwards between the two of them, though not the left hook that came out of nowhere. As the hunter crashed backwards, Als Coonhert screamed his fury and charged, double scimitars flashing dully in the gloom of the forest.
The Bloodfeather dodged his first few swipes, but then she side-stepped and caught his right shoulder with a high kick. Undeterred, Als pivoted to bring down his other weapon. Instead, his arm was seized with two iron grips, and suddenly the hunter was flying through the air upside-down. He crashed into a tree and fell with a whoof of expelled air. Another dagger found its way down through his back.
Mif watched all this with a terrified curiosity, unable to move from his spot. He saw the Bloodfeather stand from Als' corpse and go to face Raiza, still recovering from the blow to her jaw.
A sudden flush of anger entered the orphan boy, and he tore at the straps that held the many bags on his back. As they tumbled to the forest floor, Mif pulled out his one weapon, the worn and cracked hilt of a broken sword, with a little bit of jagged blade still gripped by the metal casing.
Raiza had managed to plant the end of her spear among the leaf litter and get one foot one under herself when the Bloodfeather returned. The hunter yanked out the spare dagger she kept tucked in her boot and tried to slash at her enemy. A hard leather boot intercepted and kicked the blade out of her hands, and a few moments later Raiza found herself looking up the shaft of her own spear.
Aylon was about to plunge down with the weapon when a sharp pain hit her left leg. Glancing down, she saw a deep gash now pouring out blood. Backing up from her was the servant boy she'd seen earlier, the one she'd intended to let leave this conflict. He looked terrified by what he'd just done, clutching a little broken blade with both hands - a blade that now had her blood on it.
"You little idiot." She said incredulously, before unhooking her bow from the quiver on her back.
The instant he saw the Bloodfeather pull out her main weapon, Mif knew he was in trouble. He turned to run, not noticing the quick footsteps behind him, or the whistle of air from a projectile; once the end of the strung bow dropped down over his head and swung the boy into a tree, he didn't notice much of anything.

Raiza stumbled through the undergrowth, trying to avoid the traps she'd spotted with ease earlier. The disoriented woman didn't realize she wasn't alone anymore until nearly running face-first into another bounty hunter.
"Thank the gods!" She gasped. "I didn't think anyone else had survived."
"What happened?" The hunter asked her. Raiza tried to focus her vision, but the effects of that punch were taking their time getting out of her system.
"The Bloodfeather, she- she took us down. Would have killed me, along with the others, but then, then the Muscle-head's kid attacked her. I couldn't really see, but I'm pretty sure she knocked him out and carried him off."
"Good." Raiza's eyes narrowed as she finally realized whose voice she was conversing with.
"Edercy you snake, you- Ack!" Raiza never got to finish her complaint, as Edercy's hands tightened around her throat.
"It's nothing personal." He said quietly. "But a plan is a plan. I'd blame Aylon, for not finishing her fights properly."

Summer Is Supposed to be Fun, Isn't It?

I've been feeling a bit conflicted lately. Final exams for school finally wrapped up, and I made it through all of them, which took a crap-ton of stress off of my shoulders. The next few months are going to be taken up by my Dual Credit course in the mornings for U.S. History, along with evening rehearsals for a production of An Enemy of the People, which promises to be interesting. Sometime in August I'm going to try to squeeze in a brief river trip with my grandparents in Colorado before school starts up again, though the details for that still need to be worked out.
In addition to those three big things, I need to get my driver's license so that I can get around to my various places, and work more gigs for my mom's petting zoo business. I'll also need to put in more effort on preparing for the ACT/SAT tests next year, and gathering as much scholarship money as I can for the college I want to go to.

With all of these things looming for my summer, is it unreasonable that I should want to spend my first weekend of it relaxing a bit? Since I don't know when the next opportunity will show itself? Granted, relaxing for me usually means diving into some world-building or character elaboration for my stories, but you get the idea.

Show of hands, who else has parents who prefer you to get things done as quickly as possible, without considering that you do, in fact, have a time-management plan in mind?

Orders, Whispers, and a Prayer

"Keep up, boy!" Master Lewell snapped at Mif, despite the fact the two of them were side by side. It was the rest of the bounty hunters who had pulled ahead, eager to reach the edge of trees and begin their task. Mif had slowed his pace a bit so that his master wouldn't be the very last one.
It was little things like that that would keep fresh bruises from being delivered on his already bent shoulders.
When the mismatched pair finally caught up to the others, Edercy the Tracker was giving out commands to all the hunters.
"... Miskel will lead you three further north before you start for the deeper interior. Elsa's team will do the same to the south. The first layer of traps are fairly obvious, but beware the shift to the next level. The Bloodfeather knows what she's doing, so don't underestimate what she has set out here. Everyone clear?"
"What would you like me to do, Great Edercy?" Master Lewell called out, and Mif winced when every head turned towards them, and none bothered to hide their snickers or glares.
"You will guard the rear of my group." Edercy the Tracker said, with no change of expression. Then he simply nodded to the leaders of the other groups and turned to step into the forest. Mif trailed after his master, looking back and forth to watch the other groups of hunters depart. Most of them had gone into what he assumed was the early stage of a predator's stance, with their weapons close to hand and grim looks on their faces. A few, though, were still acting like Master Lewell: overconfident and joking around, already thinking about the party after their day's success.
But from what Mif had heard about the Bloodfeather in the logger's camp last night, it would be a lot harder than what those laughing hunters were expecting.
Some of the workers had said she was a sorceress who never even had to leave the center of the forest for her magic bow to shoot a man dead. Others claimed she was a demon, who just walked up to her petrified victims and stabbed them through the heart with her arrows, letting the fresh blood stain them crimson. A few even went so far as to whisper she was the spawn some unholy monster had left on a farmer's daughter, and that the half breed babe had been thrown into a river, only to clamber out fully grown and with a taste for human suffering.
Mif wasn't sure he believed any of those tales, but one thing was for certain: the Bloodfeather was dangerous, and she didn't like people messing with this forest. People like his master, and the loggers, and Edercy the Tracker, who was bringing them all deeper into the shadows of the trees.
The boy just held on tighter to the straps that went around his shoulders and kept all of Master Lewell's food and other supplies on his back. Back at the orphan house in the city, a cleric would come down once a week to teach all the children about the Gods Above and their work to keep people safe and prosperous. Those gods had never answered any of Mif's prayers, especially when the bounty hunter Lewell Muscle-Hands had come looking for a servant, so he'd never bothered to say anything to them since. But now, as the daylight was lost behind him, the boy muttered a quick phrase he'd heard travelers say often enough:
"Ancients guide me." A breeze rustled through the trees and made his tangled, brown curls flutter, lifting Mif's spirit for a trace of a second. Then Master Lewell yelled for him to keep up, and the moment was gone.
In the foliage above him, dark green eyes watched the boy quizzically, then lifted to observe Edercy at the head of the line. They darkened with anger, and a slim form took off through the treetops.

Heh heh. I love the progression this story is making, as I wasn't sure how we'd wind up at the points I've actually planned. Any comments or questions so far?
-Triscribe