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sparkindarknessYou mean I’m still writing this? I know, it’s a shock. My keeping up with this story has been... sporadic at best. Mea culpa and all that, but it’s coming back, I’m sure.
Anyway, I like domestic life among the Camaalis and I’m getting an increasing number of Personalities coming through - not Camaalis, but among their servants and support staff (and, let’s face it, if you’re a head servant trying to bring order in a household that repeatedly marks the laws of physics as ‘optional’ you do have to be something of a Personality)
I rose slowly from sleep, a long comforting stretch towards consciousness. I hadn’t done that for many years. Normally I wake up suddenly, wakened by dreams, desperately scanning my surroundings for any threat or anything new.
This morning I eased gently awake, every muscle loose and relaxed. A deep, gurgling rumbling sound, akin to heavy industry in a plumbing factory told me Rick was still deeply asleep.
I tried to sit up and fell back down in a tangle. Rick was laid diagonally across the bed, doing his usual habit of trying to take up as much of the bed as physically possible. The covers were snarled around me like chains, completely pinning my legs. Rick’s upper body was pinning my hair in a morass of pillow and sheets. One heavy arm pinned my left arm but was probably the only thing keeping me from falling out of bed given how far he had pushed me to the edge during the night.
The door opened while I was still trying to disentangle myself with my one free hand and a tall athletic looking woman strode in carrying a silver tea tray. She chuckled and deposited the tea tray by the bed and helped my disentangle my other arm.
“Ah, young sir, I have the same trouble with my own husband.” She smiled, returning to fuss with the tea things.
“Thank you...” I left a polite pause, it had been too many years for me to remember all of the servants at home, even though there were relatively few for the size of the manor.
“Mary,” she smiled. “Cook’s granddaughter.” I could see that in her face. Cook had served as cook, housekeeper and general mother figure to generations of Camaalis. “She said you’d be awake about now, she asked me to bring you some tea while she had some breakfast brought up.”
I took a cup and set to prodding Rick to what passes for wakefulness for him at this time in the morning, Mary obliged me by opening the curtains, bathing the bed in morning sunlight through the massive windows. Rick made a vague groaning sound of protest that usually passes for a good morning.
Unfortunately, while Cook had heard of the concept of a light meal, she thoroughly disapproved of it. Any protests that she was trying to feed you enough food to feed an army were left by gentle, but implacable objections in her soft Scottish accent. “I’ll nae stand for it, lad. ‘Tis an insult to my table that ye’re all so skinny.”
I stalked the halls after breakfast, feeling sluggish and heavy. Rick had been whisked away by Cerys and Nikolai to further his mystical shaman training. No-one seemed to have any idea what I should be doing or if they did they didn’t seem to want to spend any time with me explaining it. I vaguely amused myself by practicing my evil grin on some of the nervous Vassal families, wandering the corridors in the hope of seeing something different, some sign that I had been away years and not just a matter of days.
Vague sounds drifted to me as I drifted along, sounds of an old home life I’d nearly forgotten tugging at the corners of my lips.
“What have ye been doin’ in mah kitchen, lassie?”
“Look, I know it looks, like, totally bad...”
“Bad? How many times, girl? I’ll nae be havin’ tentacled monsters in mah kitchen. It plays havoc with the plumbing, it does.”
“Goooods, it’s only, like, a little Cthulu! Honestly!”
“Doyle, we have to do something about the Gryphons! They can‘t stay here”
“You can’t move them, you’ll destroy my research!”
“Your research? They‘re destroying the roof!”
“Why didn’t they make the roof stronger?!”
“Since when is Gryphon proofing in the specifications in any building?”
“That’s as may be, sir, but not on my tatties you can‘t.”
“It would be a great saving on fertiliser, be reasonable.”
“Saving or not, sir, there’m no point in tatties that can’t be eaten and none wants to eat tatties that ‘ave ‘ad cockatrice doin’s on ‘em. Makes ‘em woody, it does.”
“Behold the thing man was not meant to know! Look upon it and tremble in madness and terror beyond imagining!”
“That’s nice dear, but do you really think it’s the best pet for your sister? You know how much work extra-planar entities take to look after.”
“She likes it.”
“’es.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a kitten, Marya?”
“No. I lub my Nemo.”
“Oh, very well, but do try to stop it oozing on the best carpets.”
“I appreciate your point of view, truly, but one has to consider the larger consequences.”
“Consequences? This is a plan for the consequences man!”
“I have a feeling that your plan for the consequences may lead to more consequences...”
“That’s the beauty of it! Rinse repeat and start all over again.”
“No, absolutely not. No detailed operation should include ‘Blow up everything that moves’ as ‘general contingency plan B.’”
“What about as plan c then?
“C, I’ll grant you. We can work with that as plan C.”
“There he is! NOW!”
I jerked alert, pulling myself back to reality all too slowly as the power closed around me. Desperately I reached for my magic, reached across the veil to the lands of the dead, appealed to the infernal forces beyond the wall and summoned my Sorcery from deep inside myself. In bare seconds I was charged with power - the intense ecstasy of it completely eclipsed the pulsing agony of my wards. They bruned and flailed desperately trying to hold back the power, searing me flesh and soul, but they were nothing before the tide of darkness.
Their magic closed around me, quicker than though and in desperation my power answered in kind. I threw back my head and laughed, my mind lost on waves of power. Let them come, let them try, I was a Sorcerer and none could defeat me.
Anyway, I like domestic life among the Camaalis and I’m getting an increasing number of Personalities coming through - not Camaalis, but among their servants and support staff (and, let’s face it, if you’re a head servant trying to bring order in a household that repeatedly marks the laws of physics as ‘optional’ you do have to be something of a Personality)
I rose slowly from sleep, a long comforting stretch towards consciousness. I hadn’t done that for many years. Normally I wake up suddenly, wakened by dreams, desperately scanning my surroundings for any threat or anything new.
This morning I eased gently awake, every muscle loose and relaxed. A deep, gurgling rumbling sound, akin to heavy industry in a plumbing factory told me Rick was still deeply asleep.
I tried to sit up and fell back down in a tangle. Rick was laid diagonally across the bed, doing his usual habit of trying to take up as much of the bed as physically possible. The covers were snarled around me like chains, completely pinning my legs. Rick’s upper body was pinning my hair in a morass of pillow and sheets. One heavy arm pinned my left arm but was probably the only thing keeping me from falling out of bed given how far he had pushed me to the edge during the night.
The door opened while I was still trying to disentangle myself with my one free hand and a tall athletic looking woman strode in carrying a silver tea tray. She chuckled and deposited the tea tray by the bed and helped my disentangle my other arm.
“Ah, young sir, I have the same trouble with my own husband.” She smiled, returning to fuss with the tea things.
“Thank you...” I left a polite pause, it had been too many years for me to remember all of the servants at home, even though there were relatively few for the size of the manor.
“Mary,” she smiled. “Cook’s granddaughter.” I could see that in her face. Cook had served as cook, housekeeper and general mother figure to generations of Camaalis. “She said you’d be awake about now, she asked me to bring you some tea while she had some breakfast brought up.”
I took a cup and set to prodding Rick to what passes for wakefulness for him at this time in the morning, Mary obliged me by opening the curtains, bathing the bed in morning sunlight through the massive windows. Rick made a vague groaning sound of protest that usually passes for a good morning.
Unfortunately, while Cook had heard of the concept of a light meal, she thoroughly disapproved of it. Any protests that she was trying to feed you enough food to feed an army were left by gentle, but implacable objections in her soft Scottish accent. “I’ll nae stand for it, lad. ‘Tis an insult to my table that ye’re all so skinny.”
I stalked the halls after breakfast, feeling sluggish and heavy. Rick had been whisked away by Cerys and Nikolai to further his mystical shaman training. No-one seemed to have any idea what I should be doing or if they did they didn’t seem to want to spend any time with me explaining it. I vaguely amused myself by practicing my evil grin on some of the nervous Vassal families, wandering the corridors in the hope of seeing something different, some sign that I had been away years and not just a matter of days.
Vague sounds drifted to me as I drifted along, sounds of an old home life I’d nearly forgotten tugging at the corners of my lips.
“What have ye been doin’ in mah kitchen, lassie?”
“Look, I know it looks, like, totally bad...”
“Bad? How many times, girl? I’ll nae be havin’ tentacled monsters in mah kitchen. It plays havoc with the plumbing, it does.”
“Goooods, it’s only, like, a little Cthulu! Honestly!”
“Doyle, we have to do something about the Gryphons! They can‘t stay here”
“You can’t move them, you’ll destroy my research!”
“Your research? They‘re destroying the roof!”
“Why didn’t they make the roof stronger?!”
“Since when is Gryphon proofing in the specifications in any building?”
“That’s as may be, sir, but not on my tatties you can‘t.”
“It would be a great saving on fertiliser, be reasonable.”
“Saving or not, sir, there’m no point in tatties that can’t be eaten and none wants to eat tatties that ‘ave ‘ad cockatrice doin’s on ‘em. Makes ‘em woody, it does.”
“Behold the thing man was not meant to know! Look upon it and tremble in madness and terror beyond imagining!”
“That’s nice dear, but do you really think it’s the best pet for your sister? You know how much work extra-planar entities take to look after.”
“She likes it.”
“’es.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a kitten, Marya?”
“No. I lub my Nemo.”
“Oh, very well, but do try to stop it oozing on the best carpets.”
“I appreciate your point of view, truly, but one has to consider the larger consequences.”
“Consequences? This is a plan for the consequences man!”
“I have a feeling that your plan for the consequences may lead to more consequences...”
“That’s the beauty of it! Rinse repeat and start all over again.”
“No, absolutely not. No detailed operation should include ‘Blow up everything that moves’ as ‘general contingency plan B.’”
“What about as plan c then?
“C, I’ll grant you. We can work with that as plan C.”
“There he is! NOW!”
I jerked alert, pulling myself back to reality all too slowly as the power closed around me. Desperately I reached for my magic, reached across the veil to the lands of the dead, appealed to the infernal forces beyond the wall and summoned my Sorcery from deep inside myself. In bare seconds I was charged with power - the intense ecstasy of it completely eclipsed the pulsing agony of my wards. They bruned and flailed desperately trying to hold back the power, searing me flesh and soul, but they were nothing before the tide of darkness.
Their magic closed around me, quicker than though and in desperation my power answered in kind. I threw back my head and laughed, my mind lost on waves of power. Let them come, let them try, I was a Sorcerer and none could defeat me.