Browsed by
Tag: excerpts

Some More Greek Translation

Some More Greek Translation

Here’s another of the Homeric Hymns in English translation. This time I was a little more free with the translation, to make it fit the needs of my story more closely. Even admitting that, I’m not entirely confident in the translation – ancient Greek grammar is a bear if you’re not experienced with it – but it will do for a rough draft. This is #30 from the canonical list: To Earth the Mother of All.


I will sing of well-founded Earth, Mother of all, most revered,
Who feeds all creatures that walk upon the lands,
That voyage in the paths of the sea, or that fly in the air,
All these are nourished from thy bounty.

From you, O Queen, come fine children and bountiful harvests,
You who grant life to mortals and can take it away.

Happy are the people it pleases you to honor!
Your bounty is there all around them.

Their tilled fields are laden with corn,
Their flocks thrive, their houses are filled with good things,
In good order they rule their cities of fair women,
Happiness and prosperity are with them.

Their sons walk proudly in vigor and delight,
Their daughters dance with joy in garlanded companies,
Playing and skipping across the flowers of soft grass,
All those whom thou honor, revered goddess, with bountiful spirit.

Hail, Mother of gods, Queen of star-filled Heaven,
For this, my song, freely bestow life upon me to uplift my heart.
I shall remember thee, and now another song as well.

Some Greek Translation

Some Greek Translation

The Diana of Versailles, Roman copy of a Greek statue by Leochares

As part of the novel I’m writing, I’ve had occasion to look for a bit of Ancient Greek religious poetry that I could quote in the story. I ended up settling on #27 from the canonical list of the Homeric Hymns, To Artemis. Rather than use an existing translation, I went back to the original Greek text and roughed out my own. Not the easiest job, given how wobbly my Greek is. Still, I’m not too unhappy with the result, and it seems to be within striking distance of the canonical translations I’ve compared it to. Here it is:


I sing of Artemis with the distaff of gold, the terrible one,
Worshipful maiden, huntress of deer, fierce archer,
Own sister to Apollo of the golden sword.

Over the shadowy hills and windy mountain heights
She delights to draw her golden bow
Sending out grievous shafts. The heads of lofty mountains
And the deep-shadowed forests tremble
With the fearful cries of her prey, shaking both the lands
And the seas full of fish: bearing a brave heart
She turns to every side to destroy the family of wild beasts.

Yet when she is satisfied, this archer who pursues the hunt,
Her mind made glad, she sets aside her well-bent bow
And goes to the great hall of her belovéd brother
Phoibos Apollo, in the rich land of Delphi,
To oversee the dance of the beautiful Muses and Graces.

There she hangs up her crescent bow and arrows.
Commanding and setting them in order all around
She leads the dance: with divine voices
They sing of Leto of the lovely ankles, who bore
Immortals supreme in both thought and deed.

Hail to thee, children of Zeus and fair-haired Leto!
I shall remember thee, and now another song as well.


I’ll probably come back to this again when I start polishing up the compete rough draft of the novel, but for now it seems to work well enough.

Danassos: Defining the Magic System

Danassos: Defining the Magic System

This post is going to be kind of long. In it, I’m going to go over a piece of published fiction in detail, looking for references to the use of magic, and I’m going to see how best to express what we read in GURPS terms. The main wrinkle is that I wrote this piece of fiction, although that was a couple of years ago and I wasn’t explicitly using GURPS as a world-building tool at the time.

The story is my novelette “Harmony’s Choice,” published in the spring of 2016. It’s set in the Mycenaean era, in the city of Thebes, and it involves a contention among heroes for the vacant kingship of the city. The protagonist is a young woman named Megara, who is sent by the city’s ruling Queen to select the most likely candidates. The two men she brings before the throne turn out to be two of the great heroes of Greek myth.

Both Megara and her Queen are magic-users, in the same tradition that will carry over into the Danassos stories I intend to write (the Danassos setting can be considered part of the same historical-fantasy timeline, a few centuries later). They both resemble Alexandra, the protagonist for those stories. All these characters are young women who are highly talented in some system of spirit-based magic, in which they produce effects by interacting with a spirit world and call up specific spirits to serve as allies.

What do Spells Look Like?

Let’s start by examining places in the story where a character can be said to engage in some form of “spell-casting.” I think the system I had in the back of my mind when I wrote “Harmony’s Choice” was the Paths and Books ritual-magic system, as detailed in GURPS Thaumatology (Chapter Five, pages 121-165). Keeping that in mind, I’ll mostly be looking to see whether I wrote anything into the story that can’t easily be framed in that kind of magic system.

“Your brother is safe, and will return to the city by tomorrow,” [Megara’s father] assured her. “The spirits you sent with us watched over him well. He took a cut across his cheek in the last battle, but nothing to threaten his life. He might show a scar once it heals.”

[Megara] snorted in derision. “He’ll like that. The girls will think he’s a great hero.”

“Yes, I believe he’s already thought of that.”

Here, Megara is said to have “sent spirits” to “watch over” her father and her brother during a war. This sounds very much like a protective ritual, most likely Chaperone (p. 152 in Thaumatology) creating protective amulets that Megara’s men could wear in battle.

For a long time, Euryganeia sat in silent thought, one hand reaching out to idly caress Megara’s hair. “I have consulted the omens,” she said at last. “Walked in dreams and spoken with my kin upon Olympos. King Laios is dead.”

Queen Euryganeia (who is both a mortal woman and a vessel for the city’s patron goddess, Harmonia) has apparently used scrying magic based on dreams (oneiromancy) to determine the fate of the city’s king.

This could be the working of an advantage like Blessed or (less likely) Oracle. It could also simply be the use of the Dreaming skill with Fortune-Telling (Dream Interpretation), as described on p. 188 of the Basic Set). It would make sense for such a skill to be supernaturally effective in this setting – the ancient Greeks certainly believed in prophetic dreams. Finally, it could indicate that Euryganeia is using the Dreamwalk ritual (p. 142 in Thaumatology).

I think I’ll go with the latter and assume that magical adepts are likely to have some combination of Dreaming, Fortune-Telling, Ritual Magic, and Path of Dreams skills. Of course, none of that is mutually exclusive with a god-touched individual also having the Blessed advantage, for occasional advice straight from the deity.

Megara moved forward to stand by the central hearth, between the contenders, with as much dignity as she could manage. From there, she administered a terrible oath, invoking both Olympian and chthonic powers. By the time she finished, the divine presence had become so thick in the megaron that she could barely breathe.

This priestly act of oath-taking can also be modeled using GURPS Path and Book magic. This could most likely be implemented as the Doom ritual (p. 152 in Thaumatology) with a starting condition (i.e., “when you break the oath you just swore”).

That’s all the “spell-casting” references in the story. All three can be represented using Path and Book magic, and it’s interesting that two out of three of those came from the Path of Luck. Looking at the other Paths, though, all of them look as if they would fit the setting except for the Path of Gadgets.

I’m going to assume that magic-users will invest in the Ritual Magic skill. I’ll assume the Effect Shaping form of the magic system, with most magicians using Paths, although there may be a few Books (grimoires) written by famed practitioners.

Spirit Allies

Another major component of magic, as it appears in the story, has to do with the service of spirits. Megara has a team of small air-spirits, called aurai (the word is related to the English “aura” and literally means “breeze”). These aurai always linger near her and she can perceive and speak with them. They usually act as spies and message-carriers, but they’re also capable of giving her a little help in dangerous situations. An example:

She heard a great commotion out in the grand courtyard: the sudden rattle of chariot wheels on stone, followed by the clatter of bronze and the hoarse shouts of men.

Eyes wide, Megara sent one of her aurai out through the window to investigate. When the tiny spirit returned to whisper in her ear, she rose to her feet at once.

“News of the war?” wondered Klymenos. “Or is it the king at last?”

“It’s my father,” said Megara.

All of this has several implications. First, Megara almost certainly has the Medium advantage (10 points) so that she can see and speak to spirits. Second, she also has an Ally Group advantage, indicating her command over a personal team of aurai. We’re going to need to stat out the aurai, which means analyzing what their capabilities are.

Again, I wasn’t explicitly using GURPS when I wrote this story, but I can attest I was thinking in terms of the spirit templates developed as far back as GURPS Spirits (2001). I’m fairly certain that the aurai will be easy to set up using something like the Spirit meta-trait on p. 263 of the Basic Set. Let’s do the analysis. I’m going to search for each reference to aurai in the story and make a note of the implications.

Starting with the reference above:

  • Aurai can fly. More precisely, they can use the omnidirectional movement that’s typical of the Insubstantiality advantage.
  • They are quick enough that they can move out of a building, see something, and report back within a few moments. That may suggest a level or so of Enhanced Move.
  • They are also intelligent enough to recognize what they see, for example specifically reporting to Megara that her father (and not some other bronze-armored charioteer) has arrived.

Okay, let’s look for some more data.

Then Megara heard a whisper. Not one of her own aurai. A different voice, cold and accustomed to command.

Oskalos must have seen a shadow in her face. “What is it, little bird?”

She looked up into his eyes, suddenly solemn. “The queen wants to hear your report.”

  • The queen (a woman named Euryganeia) clearly has command of aurai of her own, so Megara isn’t the only character with the requisite traits.
  • Aurai are intelligent enough to carry a message, and even to convey something of the personality of the person who sent a message.

A thought called up her aurai, and sent the spirits soaring around the two of them, silent and invisible. They examined Alkaios, searching out the secrets of his heart and whispering to Megara of what they saw. She compared the man to what she remembered of the boy.

  • This suggests some level of telepathic ability, permitting the aurai to sense Alkaios’s thoughts and intentions. Alkaios doesn’t seem to be aware of the scrutiny or able to mount a Will-based defense of it. That suggests Empathy rather than the more active and intrusive Mind Probe or Mind Reading.
  • The aurai are probably quite intelligent, well above the level of even a smart animal, if they are using Empathy to weigh human souls.
  • I’ve just realized this, but if Megara is using her aurai to assess another character, that probably means she lacks the Empathy advantage herself.

“If you’re a prince, why are you in exile?” Megara silently called up an aura to watch him. “Did you commit a crime?”

“No, potnia, I’m guilty of no crime there.” He tossed his head ruefully. “In fact, I left Korinthos to prevent a terrible crime. I wish it wasn’t necessary. I love my parents very much, but to rest at ease in their palace is not my fate.”

She listened for the spirit’s protest, but it remained silent.

He is telling the truth. Or at least he believes what he is saying.

  • Once again, Megara is using an aura to apply Empathy (and probably the spirit’s Detect Lies skill) while conversing with someone.

Megara barely had an instant to realize what was happening. She pulled out her dagger. Then a man loomed up in front of her in the darkness, all stink and staring eyes, his teeth bared in a snarl. His own knife swept up, ready to tear out her life.

She didn’t have time to think, only to react. She whispered a name. One of her aurai flew forward, half-materializing in the darkness.

Suddenly the man saw not a frightened young woman, but something out of clawed and fanged nightmare, leaping for his throat. He stopped dead, paralyzed with sudden terror, as if he had seen a Gorgon’s face.

  • An aura can apparently materialize for short periods of time. This fits the Spirit meta-trait, with the Insubstantiality advantage carrying the Affect Substantial and Usually On modifiers.
  • When substantial and visible, an aura can seriously frighten a human target. That suggests the Terror advantage.

Megara calculated quickly, and whispered to another spirit. It picked up a heavy load of dust from the street and hurled it into the faces of the men opposing her brother.

  • This doesn’t seem to require much beyond the ability to materialize for a moment and move an object, which seems implicit in the Spirit meta-trait. The aurai don’t seem to be very large or physically strong, otherwise Megara would be calling on them to actually fight for her, instead of engaging in this kind of trickery.

Megara found herself watching Alkaios: jaw set, brows lowered, eyes flashing in anger as he thought hard. The picture of consternation. Her heart went out to him. She felt the sudden temptation to send an aura to whisper in his ear, help him find the answer he needed. Then she quashed the idea, shivering at the thought of what the goddess would do to her, if she tried such a thing under Euryganeia’s watchful eye.

  • At first glance, this doesn’t seem to suggest anything new, but I just now realized that Megara is assuming an aura could whisper to Alkaios and he would hear it. Alkaios is not likely to be a Medium or anything like that, just an ordinary man, so this might require explanation. I had to check the GURPS rules to see that Insubstantial characters are assumed to be able to speak to substantial ones, so that’s okay.

Okay, I think I’ve gathered enough information to draw up a template for aurai, which will serve as basic spirit servants for magic-using characters in the Danassos setting as well.


Aura (300 points)

Age N/A; Spirit; 1′; Negligible weight; Amorphous and diffuse creature, rarely substantial or visible.

ST 4 [-60]; DX 14 [80]; IQ 8 [-40]; HT 10 [0].

Damage 1d-5/1d-4; BL 3.2 lbs.; HP 8 [8]; Will 8 [0]; Per 14 [30]; FP 10 [0].

Basic Speed 6 [0]; Basic Move 6 [0]; Block 8 (DX); Dodge 9; Parry 10 (DX).

Social Background

TL: 2 [0]. CF: Hellenic (Native) [0]. Languages: Greek (Native) [0].

Advantages

Doesn’t Breathe [20]; Doesn’t Eat or Drink [10]; Doesn’t Sleep [20]; Empathy [15]; Enhanced Move (Air) (1) [20]; Injury Tolerance (Diffuse) [100]; Insubstantiality (Accessibility (Cannot move through solid objects or liquids) (+2); Usually On) [32]; Invisibility (Electromagnetic) (Substantial Only; Usually On) [38]; Resistant (Metabolic Hazards) (Very Common) (Immunity) [30]; Terror (Will-0) [30]; Unaging [15].

Disadvantages

Curious (6 or less) [-10]; Dependency (Open air) (Very Common) (Constantly) [-25]; Invertebrate [-20]; Selfless (12 or less) [-5].

          Quirks: Devoted to its assigned human; Imaginative; Playful and mischievous; Sometimes acts out to get attention [-4].

Skills

Detect Lies-16 (Per+2) [2]; Lip Reading-14 (Per+0) [2]; Observation-15 (Per+1) [4]; Search-15 (Per+1) [4]; Throwing-15 (DX+1) [4].


A few things to note here:

  • An aura has no magical or psionic powers that it can use to affect the substantial world while it remains insubstantial. Even its Terror requires that it be visible and therefore substantial. It can pick up (very small) objects with its ST, but again, only while it’s substantial. I therefore didn’t apply the Affects Substantial modifier to Insubstantiality, as in the Spirit meta-trait on p. 263 of the Basic Set.
  • I kept the Doesn’t Breathe advantage, but I also added another Accessibility limitation to Insubstantiality so that an aura can’t move through walls or other solid objects. It also needs open air as a Dependency – close an aura up in a sealed space, or worse yet a small box, and you’re likely to kill it before long.
  • Aurai are about as intelligent as a human child, but they are very perceptive, and their few skills are almost all Per-based. Their ability to move or manipulate physical objects is very limited due to their low ST, Invertebrate disadvantage, and lack of physical skills aside from Throwing.
  • If aurai come in at 300 points, then a magic-using character with at least that many character points will be able to purchase them as Allies for a base cost of 5 points each. That fits my estimates for the point budget for leading characters in the Danassos stories.

One more item. I’ve mentioned it briefly above, but the character of Queen Euryganeia is a little unusual:

Megara and Euryganeia were the same age. They had grown up together, learning the same lessons, sharing secrets with each other, playing the games that young women of the palace always played. Then Megara’s aunt died, old Queen Iokaste who had ruled for so long, and the goddess of the city chose Euryganeia to be her new vessel. Now Harmonia, the Lady of the Sphinxes, often looked out at the world through the young queen’s eyes. The goddess could be compassionate and wise, but she was also mysterious, and full of holy dread.

This could be implemented through the Spirit Vessel system (pp. 211-214 in Thaumatology), but I think it’s likely to be subtler than that. In the story, Euryganeia’s possession by the goddess doesn’t lead to drastic changes in personality. She spends almost every scene she appears in just sitting on her throne, the “voice of the goddess” becoming more pronounced when she is angry or needs to speak with authority. This can probably be represented by a few advantages (and possibly a point or two of IQ) with the Pact limitation.

So, to summarize:

  • Almost all magic in the Danassos setting (and in my Mycenaean-era stories) is related to interactions with spirits (including gods) and a spirit world.
  • True magic-using characters always carry a priestly function, so all magic is clerical in nature. Even self-employed diviners and magicians are usually initiated as priests of some god (e.g., Hekate).
  • Magic-users will need the Ritual Magery advantage (p. 72 of Thaumatology), with the Path/Book specialization (p. 123 of Thaumatology). This represents an investment in power from a deity, like the Power Investiture advantage from the Basic Set. Magery, as an innate ability to wield magic, doesn’t exist in this setting.
  • Especially god-touched characters will probably have some or all of the following: Blessed, Channeling, Clerical Investment, Medium, and Oracle. Many of these advantages may come with the Pact limitation, if they don’t require behavioral standards by default.
  • Magical effects are produced using Path/Book Magic as described in Thaumatology. All the Paths are available except the Path of Gadgets. Power Investiture acts as a bonus to IQ for the Ritual Magic skill and all Path skills.
  • Magic-using characters are likely to gather teams of spirit allies, such as the aurai detailed above. More individualized spirits, with personal names and specific abilities of their own, are entirely possible. The Ally or Ally Group advantages here are also likely to have a Pact limitation.
  • Very rarely, a character may serve as the “vessel” for a god. This is most often simply a special effect.

Okay, I think I’m now prepared to draw up Alexandra herself, and possibly one or two magic-using antagonists for her. I’ll work on that and see how it comes out later this week.

Krava and the Skatoi

Krava and the Skatoi

One of my great weaknesses as a writer is that my mind has all the discipline of a butterfly. Flit, flit, now here, now there. I can decide to concentrate on Project A for a few days or weeks, until I reach a milestone . . . but then my brain settles on Project B, or Project C, or something else entirely, and refuses to do what I tell it to do. If I want to make progress on anything, it needs to be whatever is currently holding my attention.

I’ve learned to live with this.

At the moment, Project C appears to be a “gritty Iron Age fantasy” story, with a roughly Conanesque feel to it. The working title for the story is The Curse of Steel, and it’s probably going to end up as a novel. I have about 25 kilowords of a rough draft down now, although I didn’t get much work done on it throughout 2017.

The world-building is fairly straightforward. I’m doing some constructed-language work. I’m also running with the conceit that various generic fantasy races (counterparts to elves, dwarves, orcs, and so on) are actually derived from multiple hominid species evolving together on the same planet. For a while I was considering actually setting the story on an early-Holocene Earth (see this link for a map I cobbled together while I was working out the details) but I think I’ve set that idea by the wayside.

At the moment, butterfly-brain seems to be interested in pushing this project forward for a few days. Best to roll with that.

So, to pique your interest, here’s Chapter One of the draft novel.


Deep in the night, Krava sensed a presence. She snapped awake, one hand already gripping the knife beside her on the pallet. Then a familiar shape and scent put her at ease.

“What is it, father?” she murmured.

Degra grunted. “Some trouble outside. Arm yourself, and come.”

He withdrew. Now Krava could hear voices and movement, from elsewhere in the hall. Men and women of the Wolf-clan rose from sleep, seized their own weapons, moved toward the entrance in a confusion of bodies and dim firelight.

Then, from outside: shouts of sudden terror.

Krava rolled off the pallet, convinced now of the need to hurry. She pulled on trousers and jerkin of hardened leather, hung her blade at her side, strung her bow, and caught up her quiver full of arrows. She emerged from the cubicle old Duvelka had assigned her, and crossed to the entrance.

She emerged into firelight and chaos.

Whoever attacked Duvelka’s hill-fort had gained almost complete surprise. The Wolf-clan streamed out of their round-houses, into the open yard in the center of the enclosure, only to find the enemy already past the rampart and the gates. There had been no time to form a defensive line on the open ground. Already the foe ran as they pleased, cutting down anyone they found alone and unarmed. They hurled torches to set haystacks ablaze, and the thatched roofs of the round-houses.

Krava got a good look at the enemy, and felt a chill of fear in her gut. Not any of the Mighty People, not even any kind of foreigner she could recognize. Not human at all. They stood upright, two arms and two legs, they carried weapons, but their color! Fish-belly pale, corpse-from-the-river pale. They were stocky things, banded with muscle, with heavy jaws full of sharp carnivore teeth.

Almost without thought, she nocked an arrow, took aim, and shot one of the invaders through the throat.

Skatoi, she thought. How are they here? We’re at least a hundred and fifty leagues from the Black River.

A deep shout captured Krava’s attention. Degra stood firm in the center of the yard, bawling orders, gathering what few of the Wolf-clan had their wits about them. A burly young man stepped up beside him, then a tall woman with a spear. Order began to appear out of confusion.

Naturally, this attracted the attention of the skatoi. A hand of the creatures rushed forward, barking a harsh battle-cry in unison.

Krava glanced around, and saw a cart standing beside Duvelka’s hall. Quickly, she took three steps and vaulted up into the cart, to get a better vantage point from which to shoot.

Degra roared in wordless defiance, setting his feet and holding his shield high.

At the last moment, one of Krava’s arrows took one of the skatoi in the left eye, sending it shrieking to the ground. It seemed to blunt the enemy’s momentum. When they crashed into Degra’s position, he and his new shield-companions managed to hold their line.

More of Duvelka’s people entered the open yard, struggling toward the growing defensive line.

Krava aimed and fired, aimed and fired. There is a difference between speed and haste, said a memory, in her father’s voice. Even if you must fire quickly, make sure of every shot.

Degra twisted his iron blade in the guts of one of the enemy, then yanked it back out with a shout of triumph. The skatoi line began to waver.

Then it appeared. Bigger than any of the other foes, it wore a corselet of black iron rings, and a tall helm crowned with black feathers. Krava could see nothing of its face, except the red gleam of eyes, and the wicked points of its fangs. In its weapon-hand it brandished a great sword, unlike any Krava had ever seen, one that shimmered like fine silver in the firelight. It barked orders, and then charged the Wolf-clan line, right where Degra stood trading blows with another enemy.

Father!”

Krava ignored all the other skatoi, firing three arrows in rapid succession at the massive leader. One missed. The second was deflected by the creature’s helmet. The third struck its shield.

Degra finished his opponent, just a moment too late.

The creature arrived. Like lightning, its sword flickered out, getting past the guard of the spear-maiden to Degra’s left. She went down, clutching at her belly. Like thunder, its shield smashed down at the big man to Degra’s right. He fell, stunned or insensible, and did not move.

Degra stood alone. Krava couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell how he reacted to the enormous skato looming over him, or the wave of its followers just an instant behind. He braced himself, presenting his shield, as if the line around him hadn’t just been shattered.

The shining sword swept upward, then downward.

Degra shifted his weight, turning his shield to deflect the blade just enough. His own sword slashed at the creature, rebounding from its shield with a hollow boom.

The noise of the battle slowed, as Wolf-clan and skatoi on all sides turned to watch the duel of champions. Krava thought about trying to shoot her father’s opponent, but the two of them were too closely engaged, moving too quickly. She stood with an arrow to the string, ready to fire if any of the other monsters tried to intervene.

Degra and the skato circled slowly, each to the left, no longer pretending to command their shield-walls. They fenced with their shield-edges, their swords lashing out into momentary openings, neither of them making a successful cut for a time. Degra managed to get through once, opening a shallow gash across his opponent’s thigh. The skato responded with a snake’s-tongue cut that nearly took out Degra’s right eye. The next time Krava saw her father’s face, it streamed with blood.

The skato was well-armed, aggressive, big, and terribly strong. Degra was the veteran of a hundred battles, and all the People respected his courage . . . but he also had seen more than forty winters. He would never complain, but Krava knew that he had begun to slow down during regular drill.

Sky Father, be with him now.

Then the chant began. One of the Wolf-clan, then a few more, then all of them. Calling her father’s name. “De-gra, De-gra, De-gra . . .”

The skatoi broke into a frenzy of yelps and barks, brandishing their weapons. Their leader bared its fangs and emitted a long, rasping growl.

“What are you waiting for?” Degra demanded.

The big skato moved, a sudden rush, trying to overwhelm Degra through sheer mass. It launched a flurry of blows. Degra blocked them all with his shield, which was beginning to look rather battered . . . but for a moment, he was off-balance, his shield held too far to his left.

The skato got the edge of its own shield inside Degra’s, and pushed.

Degra stood exposed, nothing but his sword to protect him for a moment. He saw the next blow coming, and swept his blade up to meet his enemy’s, going for the bind-and-recover that would continue the fight.

The silver blade flashed as it met Degra’s sword, strength to strength.

With a scream of stressed metal, the defending weapon snapped in half. The point of the iron sword spun away, gleaming dully in the firelight.

As the monster followed through, Degra took a vicious cut, with nothing but his corselet to protect him. The iron links held, but the sheer impact of the blow fell across Degra’s shoulder, tearing ligaments and breaking bones. A snarl of pain and rage tore from his throat. He recoiled, staring in disbelief for an instant at the stump of his blade.

The skato stalked forward, grinning, pushing with its shield.

Degra moved stiffly now, in great pain, barely able to hold what remained of his sword. His shield-work somehow kept the enemy at bay for a moment longer. Yet with only a hand-span of edge left on his blade, he could no longer reach his foe.

Krava jumped down from the cart, running toward her father.

He won’t thank me for breaking the single combat, robbing him of his honor. At least he will be alive to disapprove.

Too late. The skato levered Degra’s shield aside once more, a powerful sword-thrust slamming home right behind. Whatever metal made up the blade, it somehow punched through Degra’s corselet. Degra sagged, dropping the remains of his own sword, and fell to his knees.

A twist of the monster’s wrist, a great sweep of the silver blade, and the sword pointed skyward, dripping with blood. The skato loomed over Degra as he slumped to lie on the ground. It roared in triumph.

All around, the Wolf-clan stared, losing heart. They prepared to run, or to exact a final desperate payment for their lives.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Krava’s last three arrows sprouted in the monster’s exposed torso, piercing its mail.

The skato didn’t seem mortally wounded. Perhaps it wore a leather jerkin under its own corselet, or it was protected by thick muscle. Still, its roar of triumph turned into a hiss of sudden, unexpected pain.

Slowly, deliberately, the monster reached to tear arrows out of its flesh. Blood from the wounds ran down its chest and belly, to drip on the ground. The last arrow it brought to its mouth, to lick the gore from the iron point. Then it cast the arrow aside, and brought its weapons back into guard position. It stared at Krava over the rim of its shield.

“A little girl,” it said in the trade-tongue, with an accent so thick Krava could barely understand it. “Tell me your name, little girl.”

“I am Krava,” she told it, proud of the fact that her voice didn’t shake, that it could cut through the crackle of the flames. She raised her own sword, and her archer’s buckler.

It snorted in contempt. “Raven, ah? I catch ravens, eat them, take their feathers for my hrâsk. Think I will eat you. Make a cup out of your skull.”

Krava smiled, concealing that she wanted very badly to flee wailing into the night. “Come and try,” she said.

It did, a howl-and-charge designed to turn a woman’s guts to water and her legs to rotten strings. The shining sword lashed out.

Krava was not there when it arrived.

The skato turned, attacked again.

Krava dodged and deflected the sword-blow to the side with her buckler. For just an instant, she sensed an opening, and lashed out with her own blade. Her edge laid open another shallow cut across her enemy’s thigh.

She twisted away from blows. She spun toward the creature’s shield-side. She made a long leap backward, leaving her foe off-balance. She deflected the silver blade, never taking its full force on her buckler or the strength of her own sword. Every now and then, she lashed out, forcing the skato to use its shield or take another small cut.

Before long, the monster was bleeding from a dozen minor wounds.

Krava was not as big as her father had been, not as strong, not as experienced in a hundred battles and cattle-raids. She preferred the bow to the brutality of the shield-wall.

Still. The People did not call her Krava the Swift for nothing.

There was no chanting, as there had been for her father. The Wolf-clan and the enemy watched in eerie silence. Watched as the big skato paused for a moment, staring at her, its fetid breath like a bellows.

“You dance,” it said. “Don’t win fight by dancing.”

“You bleed,” Krava responded. “That doesn’t win fights either.”

It moved slightly to its left, its feet shifting.

“Getting tired, monster?” Krava inquired. “That sword getting heavy in your hand?”

“Not yet,” it told her, and charged.

Krava had read its foot-work properly, but that charge was so fast, she still didn’t quite evade in time. She felt the creature’s weight slam into her shield-arm, and felt something give in her shoulder. She lost her balance, falling ungracefully on her arse, the skato looming close over her.

For an instant, she saw an opening. She didn’t take the time to think. She stabbed, with every remaining ounce of her strength.

Her sword point found its way under the skirt of the creature’s corselet, and ran up into its body. It screeched, one leg collapsing, and toppled over on top of her.

There was dead silence for a long moment. Then Krava emerged, shoving the creature’s dead weight to the side. She staggered to her feet and stood in the firelight, covered with her enemy’s blood, and stared wildly about her.

“Well, Wolf-clan?” she demanded. “They can be killed. Let’s get to work!”

A shout went up, and then the howling war-cry of Duvelka’s folk. Men and women surged out into the open yard, their courage restored, and fell upon the skatoi.

Krava did not join them. Suddenly she felt terribly weary, as if she had been fighting for hours. She did a quick inventory and found no open wounds, although her shield-arm snarled with pain and hung useless at her side.

Father.

Degra was still alive, barely, lying in a pool of his own blood with one hand pressed to the great rent in his corselet. Krava fell to her knees beside him. His eyes wandered for a moment, and then focused on her. His lips moved, but it was clear he couldn’t get enough breath into his voice.

“Don’t try to speak, Father.” Krava leaned close over him, to press her lips to his cold forehead. “Your enemy is dead.”

He nodded, his eyes sliding closed. His lips moved again, but even with her ear held very close, Krava could not make out the words. Then he breathed no more.

Krava knelt there for a minute, then two, listening to the sounds of battle. The Wolf-clan seemed to be pressing the last of the skatoi out of the open yard, out into the night. Whatever had driven the monsters to come so far and attack Duvelka’s people, they were paying a heavy price for it.

Not heavy enough.

She pushed herself to her feet, and staggered back the way she had come, back to where the big skato lay alone on the bloody ground. Standing over the creature, she picked up its weapon and examined it.

Beautiful. Straight and sharp. It will do.

She stood over the dead skato, raised the bright sword high, and then struck with all her might.

When the Wolf-clan’s warriors returned, they found a spear standing in the earth at Degra’s feet. Impaled on the blade, the skato’s head stared sightlessly into the darkness. A trophy to watch over Degra’s journey to the Otherworld.

Untitled Sonnet

Untitled Sonnet

Most of the past week, I’ve been spending on fan-fiction. I set myself a bit of a challenge for the next chapter I’ve been working on. I have a scene in mind in which my protagonist (a mage-Warden originally from the Dragon Age: Origins video game) is required to improvise some verse in honor of his beloved wife. So I decided to actually produce some verse.

As a poet, I make a pretty good carpenter, so it took me a surprisingly long time to come up with a sonnet I could live with. Here it is. I find it isn’t actually all that closely tied to the Dragon Age setting, aside from a single reference in the second quatrain. This piece should also appear in the next chapter of The Voice of Silence, as soon as I can get about a thousand more words down.


She walks along the margins of the night,
A creature wrought of secrets and desire,
With hair as dark as raven’s wings in flight,
Her golden eyes alight with reason’s fire.
In truth, she loves bright gold and precious stones,
The better for her beauty to adorn,
Yet Chantry’s power and might of kingly thrones
She never stoops to hold them but in scorn.
Still I know well the passions bright that burn
Within that guarded breast and wounded heart;
I count it all my fortune thus to earn
A husband’s welcome place in her regard.
Tho’ walk I now in winter’s bitter scope,
I trust, in her, to find the summer’s hope.