Warriors Duel

[Another little drablet with the witch and the snakescale warrior]

Two warriors face in a field, one a paladin held by holy order to kill all users of magic not allied with the church. The other the snake scale warrior who had been making his way acting as a companion for the witch.

It was a duel, and one both knew the rules to and when the arrow was heard coming his way he knew also that this was no fair game of skill. It had been enough for the holy knight to charge with his two-handed sword charging and dropping the blade vertical along the helmet to have what he felt would be hard metal be gone. Fog had come in unnaturally throwing off distances before a light had shone over the pair causing the holy warrior to jump back before looking to see the witch who had come out of her hut, a round shield big enough to take care of unwanted arrows flying her way set in the moat of the field.

The look in her eyes had said it, she knew there was magic played and that had been why she had been pulled out of the house by the action and had to show there was fairness in the act now causing the church’s forces to work in other ways now.

Scanning the situation their tactics in battle had been something he had known very well, but the sudden impatience and lack of honor had been something he was unsure of. What had caused he did not know but it was not something he had understood them to do before. It was a question to be asked later as an arrow came whistling by his helmet aimed at the witch before it was set floating in front of her completely harmless before turned and sent back along the same route through the fog and light catching someone with a muffled gurk before the sound of body met moat and grass.

It had been a sound both of the armored warriors heard and when understanding there was no more back up the paladin had become more defensive trying to create openings tactically instead of by tricks. However, the snake scale knight had already lost patience for those who used honor as a currency and shifted his hand to a handle behind the sword who when pulled had glowed in a viridian and moss palette before a visage of a snake had been uncoiled from the handle to catch the blade and the attacker in its bind. Magical weapons not held by the church were illegal but there was nothing extra they could do he figured and decided to show something.

“You, [******]”

 A spell in the tongue of the high holy, although as he used his other hand to block it the eyes in the helmet of his opponent almost shot through the blessed steel and gold.

[******]. {******}..[**********!!!!]

Three separate calls to power and three separate counters, each had been a piece of evidence that had even the witch’s eyes on the snake whip holder. Magic was a finicky thing but to counter something there had to be something there.

There had to be a power in the same school of magic that the spell was. She had believed in nature and the green and it had been something that had given her great wisdom and joy in life. Ways to counter the effects were a way to work btu that would not throw the spell aside as she had seen. Dark magic would not do that and neither could her magic that worked with the green and creatures.

Over the time he had stayed with her he had slept in the barn, turning it into a small forge and being quite useful at repairing what he had and what she needed. Nothing major but enough to understand he was no sell sword.

Writing Sample

(It has been a while since I did this so here is a piece from something I may or may not have shown before, in this case I have A. Written too much and B. not published enough. that I may or may not have done this before. Sorry or enjoy)

The village was creaking lightly and looking behind him and he could see it easily enough and even the bare outline of the garden outpost behind it on the shore could be seen if he squinted could be seen from the lookout towers as the sun shone overhead on the waters below. It was another day where the fish seemed all too happy to be jumping into his nets and he was more than happy enough to bring another haul for the village. Although the madness that often came with the chaotic weather on land would make animals difficult to eat if one wasn’t used to the changes the madness brought, out on the water there was none making it very easy for those who could to swim out or ride out in the long buoyed canoes or small sailboats to get some fishing or trawling done depending on what they were looking for.

Watching from where he lay in the canoe with a small umbrella stuck through the oar eye so that he could nap in the shade while the net did the work. There was no need to work hard unless a giant bivalve or one of the finned hunters had come in looking for either safety or food, and he could just sit and enjoy the small things. It was indeed rough and despite everything that had gone on many of the adults complained how there could be such things as the madness that went on the land. He didn’t mind though as the waters were clear and the outpost was close enough to the coast that unless one of the plagued scourgers came then there wasn’t a need to be worried. Stay away from the land, unless one had to check on the vegetables, get there quickly make sure you get to your boat and out to sea quickly and he could have it all done before the midday meal.

Part of him wished he could go out and explore but he had seen some of the damage ever since he had to start helping with collecting the food. Everyone had to do their part to make the village go off without a hitch.

Much of the village was built on platforms framed with a hollow hardwood found on some of the smaller islands a half hour out and that was far enough of a trip that a deep boat like a ferry would be needed. Floating happily among the soft waves he could remember every time it would be brought closer to the village, the only reason why they wouldn’t be kept there was the simple fact the size of the thing could land on the bottom of the shallows. Granted, in the storms, the water level would rise and the rocking would bring about a nice little way for him to get to sleep every time he would lie down.

Being how it was built the village would move slightly with the waves as they crashed giving every a nice motion without being too difficult to handle. Laying down thinking back to one particular storm he could clearly remember when the swells got so powerful that one of the buffeting walls had been broken and had caused damage to Zenobria’s shack almost taking a wall of the home down with the wave and drenching everything in their kitchen before anything could be hidden away.

It didn’t matter if it was by wave or by someone burning a large pot of stew when someone lost their food for their year it usually meant the village would need to come together to keep their own fed.

Elders would go on about how there were some bad times in the village’s history many of which were when they all lived on land hearing about it from many of the older adults it just seemed silly to hear them talk about it when everything he knew was out on the water. He wasn’t even one of the youngest, he was helping with gathering the fish in the nets, but some hadn’t been around to see the garden walls and towers go up. Remembering that was something he had to remember with talking around his little sister who had been born just after it had been finished. It seemed the world was getting further away from what it had once been and when the elders passed on then would the world they knew be the one that was normal just the same. He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to think any more about the deeper things when work had to get done.

What he saw past his face mottled and translucent in the lapping waves, if he just focused enough was the net hung from the pair of buoys and nearly full with the catch.

Dropping over the side, the ocean seemed more at home than most of the times he had to walk on land. It made him happy to know all he had to do was take a deep breath and a couple of steps from most places max before he was under the surface once more.

The various creatures in the net were trying to wriggle free from the waxed twine before the slack evaporated for good and all of the delicacies would be well on their way to the thankful people of the village. Grey Scales, stripe shells, the odd shell walker from the bottom pocked the catch as the net was soon secured to the boat before both the young fisherman and the catch started the trip back home.

Orestes began using the sail over the oars when the weight of the catch pulled the boat back enough in the water that he could see the only way to have any energy left was to let the winds do the work while he just guided it.

His father had always been one who had told him to bring the small sail for the case of a heavy catch and it was something that he could remember not trying to use all because it seemed hard to set up.

What he wished to know back then was how easy it actually was as the wide post was already set with places to secure cloth, line, and winches leaving the only issue is putting it in the boat and having it balanced before the wind picked up on it.

After a few minutes of easy wind, the sail would get enough behind it where they would make up the speed difference as if he had rowed the entire way. Why some of the other fishermen still out on the waters as he scanned the horizon wouldn’t make use of it, he couldn’t tell, but oftentimes he also saw they didn’t have enough to bring in to warrant it.

From the garden fort behind the village there seemed to be something going on, he had hoped that it was just someone who had gone out to visit it. It wasn’t until the small plumes of smoke began to waft from the inside that he realized one of the mad creatures had found a way in. That did not leave him from tying up the catch or putting it on ice with those who were done early with chores.

Seeing the danger of the smoke in one of their few places for anything grown made everyone notice the scene near the shore it was one of the fire burrowers that had come up within the confines of the garden. Even from that range the unique smell of the breath of the burrower had left it as clear a calling card as could be found.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of the younger children go and pull down the white cloth from the flag pole. Anyone who had seen it would have also seen the red triangle flying from the flagpole. Soon the other fisherman would know, some of them would tie up their lines and come in, some would swim in to get some information, but while that was going on he still had to get everything into the ice chest before the creatures killed each other.

No one would be fed with hopes of people being safe, although he did know that people will eat more if there was a tragedy. Dropping a large-mouthed greyscale into a holding tank sunk in the shallows had given enough time for the others to gather their families and notify them of the scene.

“Young man, Orestes.” he heard his name.

Less than a couple of steps from the loading area was one of the village elders clearly disturbed by what he had seen as well. The older man had called to him and making his way over he could see the circles under the wise codger’s eyes giving him an air of fatigue that was hard to shake.

Magic and Life Without It

Someone got mad once because I explained cooking as the last school of magic. For this we are going to pull the merriam webster definition.

“The use of means (such as charms or spells) believed to have supernatural power over natural forces.”

Now there is nothing more natural then grown food, whether animal or vegetable it is the natural force of the planet we can use to keep ourselves going.

For the sake of clarity supernatural is defined as “departing from what is usual or normal especially so as to appear to transcend the laws of nature”

Now this is a pork roulade by the freshman cook @ https://www.thefreshmancook.com/pork-roulade for those who are wondering, go check them out.

Can anyone tell me how this is a natural meal?

It is not. Nature does not come like this, we work with the materials to make our emotions, our senses, and our ideas come to life in away that is wholly without speaking but still a language all of its own. There are dishes that do something with us that scientifically we cannot explain. When your lover makes your favorite cookie after a long day of work. When your mother made you a dish after you cried from not making a sports team. The argument could be made that memory and all of that is neuroscience but even they do not understand to what degree it is or it isn’t.

Magic is something that can be holy or unholy, self-reflective or a pulse to the people around you, it can be something built out of the worst of emotions and be great, and be made from joy and be horrible for others. All it is, is a crack in the door that you do not understand the world as completely as you think. That’s it.

It took me years to believe in magic again after a lot of painful times because when you go through a lot of pain sometimes magic is the farthest thing you can believe in. It doesn’t feel like it can help you, like it can heft your weight of the mud of the situation or bandage wounds that have come from working.

Magic allows you to think you may be able, if the cards fall your way and the wind blows just right you can do things that maybe you wouldn’t be able to do as well before. Walking back to my apartment it dawned upon me that for all the people willing to shout down anyone doing well not one of them could see themselves doing the same successes they saw in others. It made me wonder why, and why they couldn’t just believe a little bit. Anywho.

Just a Thought.

Last at Brackish Maw

A man knelt before a brackish moat and saw his life flutter way. The battle behind him had now been done for what was a full day. He could not move and his wounds would grieve he knew his time had come, in the reflection of the water black this is he once saw.

Memory of home, of friend, of family, and more all wishing for his safe return. It would be something he could not give them although their security he did earn. He did not believe in the gods of the church and wondered what lay for him next, he did his best and now he rest with the last few breaths he has.

A fae had seen him, had watched blood ooze and stain his uniform dark, the fae would play and bounce and stray but they eyes of the man did not part. They focused on the brackish water of the pond just in front.

He had no regrets and the fae was scared, such death had been new to her.

Without need or reason he reached into his pack and grabbed what food he had, he would not need a meal, maybe the fae would like it, they had.

It was a move without a deal. It was a move without a price. It had been made without recompense not wrong or right. The fae could not save as the flickered round his form, his wish a dish for the fae since he needed it no more.

Fae called upon the wind a warriors spirit guide and let the soldier find his way to the next land ridden high, taken from the brackish maw and the last upon the field. The fae wished well, the soldiers soul who had previous seen wars hell.

(I don’t know why it came to me, it did, enjoy)