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sparkindarknessOne advantage of writing again? Even when I write something unrelated, it stimulates
This? Well, more drek - but it’s Spark in Darkness drek which I flung onto the page as soon as it was there because it meant it was MOVING again! PRAISE THE MUSES!
Spark in Darkness #89 - life in Camaalis castle - Rich and Darren hitting the books
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 didn’t even try to argue - it would only ensure she stayed to ensure every bite was eaten. Without a drop of magic in her body, Cook remained one of the most powerful people in the house.
I stalked the halls after breakfast, feeling sluggish and heavy. Rick had been whisked away (protesting noisily) by Cerys and Nikolai to further his mystical shaman training followed by long lessons with Prisa on what it meant to be a Camaalis.
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. I’d been back over a week yet it seemed like I’d never left, the same old patterns, the same old voices and the same old arguments echoed through the corridors.
“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.”
I sat in one of the smaller reading rooms where I had been working for the last few days. There was one of the Vassal families trembling in a corner opposite me, waiting in case I needed anythjng. By the vapid look of devotion in his eyes he was a Tuatha. It took me 10 minutes of protests and grovelling to get him out the door..
Kyernath preyed on my mind, I couldn’t imagine how I could best a Sorcerer so much older, stronger and more knowledgeable than myself - let alone how a Sorcerer of such power could be stopped since for centuries Camaalis had kept him imprisoned lacking a way to destroy him.
I’d turned to the only greatly detailed account of Sorcerous power the Camaalis library had - the notes of Kyernath himself. It was fascinating reading, though I desperately tried not to be drawn in by it. I had never even imagined the potential of Sorcery - and Sorcery, Necromancy and Infernalism? The possibilities were endless.... and terrifying. There were notes from Camaalis over the years who hjad tried to decipher the work - and they had made strides (and added incredible knowledge that threatened to drag me off on fascinating tangents at every turn) in Necromancy and Infernalism. But Sorcery? Sorcery was the third power, and these notes were written by a Sorcerer. Only a Sorcerer could truly understand them - in a little over a week I had learned more than the rest of the clan had in centuries. And I was terrified.
“HIDE ME!” Rick screamed, leaping into the room and cowering behind my chair.
“Rick! Don’t sneak up on a Sorcerer!” I slowly released a deep breath, letting my Sorcery retreat. I’d been so desperately close to killing him.
“Still on edge?” Rick asked, peaking from around an arm rest.
I ignored the question, not wanting another attempted therapy session and possible breakdown. They were getting tedious. “Who are you hiding from?”
“Pretzel! She’s trying to cram 500 years of history into my head! Even Nikolai is more interesting with his fucking Shamanism 101 classes! And the Theory of Magic classes? Darren, what the fuck? How did you make magic this BORING?”
I had to smile. “Only 500? You have, oh, 25 centuries or so left to look forward to then,” I had to smile at the look of horror on his face. “And Prisa is an Oracle. Hiding from her is pretty pointless.”
“Well now I am helping you and my leaving will upset you. And no-one wants you upset because you are Dangerous and Insane and may Explode and become Psychotic. Yes, yes you will.” He said in a deadpan monotone voice, the capitals ringing into place.
“I’m not feeling especially psychotic at the moment, it really has to be said.” I mused, smiling. I speared a crumpet on a toasting fork and held it up to the fire. Cook insisted there be toasting forks and things to toast by every fireplace in every occupied room.
“No no no, we definitely risk psychotic Sorcererness. I have to stay and help.” He perched on the arm of my chair, knocking the toasting fork from my hand. “What’re you reading anyway?”
My brief irritation was forgotten. “Kyernath’s notes. Don‘t tell anyone I have them.” Rick’s smile shrank. “I learned a lot... I think I know why they couldn’t kill him before.”
“That’s good, right? You know how to fuck him up now?”
“Watch.” I picked up a blank notebook and threw it in the fire, concentrating I call upon my Sorcery, wrapping the book in my power, pushing past the burn of the wards as they flared painfully to life, glowing fitfully.
Rick looked. He got down of the chair and looked closer. “It’s... not burning? Magic fire?”
“Sorcery is the essence of destruction. The Mastery of destruction.” I stopped concentrating, wiping sweat from my eyes. It was a lot harder than I imagined. The book flared into flames. “And mastery doesn’t just mean you can cause lots of damage - it means channelling the forces of destruction, directing them, tell them when to bite and,” I gestured at the ashes, “when not to.”
“Wait wait wait... a Sorceror can make a fire not burn? What the fuck?”
“That’s what the notes say. Or a blade not cut. Or a club not to crush. Or poison to not... poison. It still produces heat, etc, it just doesn’t damage or destroy. It’s not infallible,” at least I couldn’t make it infallible. Kyernath? I crushed the thought before the panic rose. “But when you add that to the difficulties involved in killing a Necromancer and any longevity or hardiness pacts from Infernalism and...”
“He’s fucking invulnerable...” Rick finished, sitting down carefully. He shook his head. “Well, we learned something at least, it’s a step forwards.” He grabbed the notes and threw them onto the table. “Hey, we made progress, now we get to reward it.”
He grinned and leaned down and kissed me, my protests died quickly - but for a brief moment I felt a chill before the heat of Richard’s body chased it away.
Because it was a protest born not from a desire to defeat Kyernath - but from a desire to learn more about my power.
This? Well, more drek - but it’s Spark in Darkness drek which I flung onto the page as soon as it was there because it meant it was MOVING again! PRAISE THE MUSES!
Spark in Darkness #89 - life in Camaalis castle - Rich and Darren hitting the books
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 didn’t even try to argue - it would only ensure she stayed to ensure every bite was eaten. Without a drop of magic in her body, Cook remained one of the most powerful people in the house.
I stalked the halls after breakfast, feeling sluggish and heavy. Rick had been whisked away (protesting noisily) by Cerys and Nikolai to further his mystical shaman training followed by long lessons with Prisa on what it meant to be a Camaalis.
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. I’d been back over a week yet it seemed like I’d never left, the same old patterns, the same old voices and the same old arguments echoed through the corridors.
“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.”
I sat in one of the smaller reading rooms where I had been working for the last few days. There was one of the Vassal families trembling in a corner opposite me, waiting in case I needed anythjng. By the vapid look of devotion in his eyes he was a Tuatha. It took me 10 minutes of protests and grovelling to get him out the door..
Kyernath preyed on my mind, I couldn’t imagine how I could best a Sorcerer so much older, stronger and more knowledgeable than myself - let alone how a Sorcerer of such power could be stopped since for centuries Camaalis had kept him imprisoned lacking a way to destroy him.
I’d turned to the only greatly detailed account of Sorcerous power the Camaalis library had - the notes of Kyernath himself. It was fascinating reading, though I desperately tried not to be drawn in by it. I had never even imagined the potential of Sorcery - and Sorcery, Necromancy and Infernalism? The possibilities were endless.... and terrifying. There were notes from Camaalis over the years who hjad tried to decipher the work - and they had made strides (and added incredible knowledge that threatened to drag me off on fascinating tangents at every turn) in Necromancy and Infernalism. But Sorcery? Sorcery was the third power, and these notes were written by a Sorcerer. Only a Sorcerer could truly understand them - in a little over a week I had learned more than the rest of the clan had in centuries. And I was terrified.
“HIDE ME!” Rick screamed, leaping into the room and cowering behind my chair.
“Rick! Don’t sneak up on a Sorcerer!” I slowly released a deep breath, letting my Sorcery retreat. I’d been so desperately close to killing him.
“Still on edge?” Rick asked, peaking from around an arm rest.
I ignored the question, not wanting another attempted therapy session and possible breakdown. They were getting tedious. “Who are you hiding from?”
“Pretzel! She’s trying to cram 500 years of history into my head! Even Nikolai is more interesting with his fucking Shamanism 101 classes! And the Theory of Magic classes? Darren, what the fuck? How did you make magic this BORING?”
I had to smile. “Only 500? You have, oh, 25 centuries or so left to look forward to then,” I had to smile at the look of horror on his face. “And Prisa is an Oracle. Hiding from her is pretty pointless.”
“Well now I am helping you and my leaving will upset you. And no-one wants you upset because you are Dangerous and Insane and may Explode and become Psychotic. Yes, yes you will.” He said in a deadpan monotone voice, the capitals ringing into place.
“I’m not feeling especially psychotic at the moment, it really has to be said.” I mused, smiling. I speared a crumpet on a toasting fork and held it up to the fire. Cook insisted there be toasting forks and things to toast by every fireplace in every occupied room.
“No no no, we definitely risk psychotic Sorcererness. I have to stay and help.” He perched on the arm of my chair, knocking the toasting fork from my hand. “What’re you reading anyway?”
My brief irritation was forgotten. “Kyernath’s notes. Don‘t tell anyone I have them.” Rick’s smile shrank. “I learned a lot... I think I know why they couldn’t kill him before.”
“That’s good, right? You know how to fuck him up now?”
“Watch.” I picked up a blank notebook and threw it in the fire, concentrating I call upon my Sorcery, wrapping the book in my power, pushing past the burn of the wards as they flared painfully to life, glowing fitfully.
Rick looked. He got down of the chair and looked closer. “It’s... not burning? Magic fire?”
“Sorcery is the essence of destruction. The Mastery of destruction.” I stopped concentrating, wiping sweat from my eyes. It was a lot harder than I imagined. The book flared into flames. “And mastery doesn’t just mean you can cause lots of damage - it means channelling the forces of destruction, directing them, tell them when to bite and,” I gestured at the ashes, “when not to.”
“Wait wait wait... a Sorceror can make a fire not burn? What the fuck?”
“That’s what the notes say. Or a blade not cut. Or a club not to crush. Or poison to not... poison. It still produces heat, etc, it just doesn’t damage or destroy. It’s not infallible,” at least I couldn’t make it infallible. Kyernath? I crushed the thought before the panic rose. “But when you add that to the difficulties involved in killing a Necromancer and any longevity or hardiness pacts from Infernalism and...”
“He’s fucking invulnerable...” Rick finished, sitting down carefully. He shook his head. “Well, we learned something at least, it’s a step forwards.” He grabbed the notes and threw them onto the table. “Hey, we made progress, now we get to reward it.”
He grinned and leaned down and kissed me, my protests died quickly - but for a brief moment I felt a chill before the heat of Richard’s body chased it away.
Because it was a protest born not from a desire to defeat Kyernath - but from a desire to learn more about my power.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-31 01:42 am (UTC)Also, a lot more detail.
:D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-31 05:49 am (UTC)I'm glad the story is rolling again.
BTW, what's a tattie?
and Cook sounds almost exactly like an NPC we had when Jarrod and Custos Kevin were abducted to Ireland by a well meaning umm... friend. Who drugged them and took em out for holiday on a private jet. Jarrod was So annoyed when he woke up in nothing but boxers for the entire plane trip. They too wound up at well meaning friend's family castle.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-31 10:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-01 12:21 pm (UTC)It all goes onto the journal for comments and edits and pokes and ripes :)
Tattie is a potato.
I always figure a castle must have some people who are truly Organised or it just WON'T WORK because it is soooo big
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-01 12:20 pm (UTC)So much to expand on - point to where you want more detail and I can expound - infinitely
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-01 09:52 pm (UTC):P you make it sound so.... unsanitary.