This week's projects
So this week, I'm dedicating a lot of time to figuring out the Etsy situation. And I am excited to say it's pretty close to ready. But that is really draining, and when I need a break to do some creative things I normally work on my commissions and costumes. Sadly my commissions are all tied up in the fitting phase right now, so they have to wait until I can meet with my clients. In lieu of my usual crafting, this week I've been giving the old creative writing a try. The idea is to make a short story "serial" in the style of a fun penny-dreadful romance. This is being written to submit to an in-character news paper in a southern California game. I'm only permitted one side of a page per monthly issue. So I'm shooting for a single scene per page after font is taken into account. Ideally I'll end at a cliff-hanger every issue. My current estimate is that the collected story will be a total of 8 to 10 printed pages. Here's the work in progress for page/issue 1. I hope you enjoy it! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The late afternoon sun filtered lazily through the trees as they whispered in a gentle spring breeze. The woods outside Solace had been quiet and calm for days, hardly a spirit nor cultist had dared draw near after the Guard's most recent assault. However, the shade dappled road was another story. The Tournament of Solace had drawn travelers, merchants and spectators from the far off reaches of Edge, Port Frey, and beyond. With honest travelers came those who would take advantage of them. Just as the road rounded a particularly dense copse of swamp the land sloped away from the road in a peculiar manner. And in this hidden dip between the road and trees three brigands crouched unseen. The stains in their rough-spun clothes hinted at the many hours they sweated in that ditch waiting for a vulnerable mark. Many were the caravans, and troupes that passed them by. Few in these parts were fool enough to travel in small numbers, and too often those who did had nothing worth taking. At long last the swarthy criminals roused themselves at the sound of a woman’s voice drifting around the bend. “I swear, if I /ever/ catch up to Cyril I will give him such a piece of my mind. To leave me napping and take the caravan. I never-” Her footsteps crunched in the gravel, accompanied by the swish of fine satin. The thieves peered out from their hiding place to see this woman was ranting to herself alone. Draped in satin too rich and heavy to have been fashioned on Tear, with delicate chains of gold encircling her neck, this mark was too good to be true. They did not bother to leap out at her suddenly, two of them casually strolled into the middle of the road ahead of her while the other circled around behind. The tallest cracked his neck, and fixed her with a hard stare. His blue eyes and unkempt dark hair glinting in the shifting sunlight. “My my, what have we here? A little lamb lost it’s way? Some of that gold off your neck and we could help you find that caravan, girl.” His voice was sweet and patronizing, threats cloaked in kindness. He grinned at the surprise on her face. And with a nod from their leader the bandit behind her stepped closer, edging her toward the dark haired man lest she let his armed thug too close. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of footfalls behind her. She spun in place, her hand resting on the hilt of a dagger meant more for looks than work. “I don’t want any trouble, but your manners could use some work.” She wrinkled her nose, “And a bath.”
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