Archive | February 2016

The Magical Disaster, a story beginning written off of a 7th Sanctum prompt

From this prompt generator: http://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=writeprompt


We survived the magical disaster by hiding in her bank, or that’s what they thought.

We used the same trick we always did: play off of people’s assumptions. We crawled out from under a table and staggered out of the building with the two dozen people who’d been hiding in there. We looked woozy – I really was woozy, and Sharna’s expertise was in faking any number of illnesses and weakness. And we were genuinely surprised by the chaos outside.

We looked a little strange, but even the people hiding in strong stone buildings like the bank had been affected by the backlash. We looked a little lost, but that was easily explained by the wooziness. The hardest part to explain would have been our ID’s, and there was such a mess outside that nobody cared, not even the police.

The sweetest part of the mess? One of those police looked Sharna straight in the face and didn’t recognize her. Her face had been on wanted posters all over town…

…but that had been back home. I wondered how long it would be before they realized that the magical catastrophe had opened doors into other worlds? By then, I was sure, we’d already have vanished into this world and be working on another con.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1062784.html. You can comment here or there.

Trouble in Cloverleaf, Continued, for @InspectrCaracal, 467 words

First part here
Second part here
Third part here.

This story is of questionable canonicality – it probably happened, probably about 100 years after Cya & Leo graduate from Addergoole (or about 93 years after the end of the world) – but the exact date is up in the air, as well as some details.

All Leo lines in this story are as-written by [personal profile] inventrix in the roleplay that sparked this


Leo stared levelly at Luke, taking his time about answering. Luke wondered if he was working around an order. Cynara always had been thorough about that sort of thing with her Kept.

“Outside the outer walls,” he finally came up with, “if you want to be completely certain.”

That was a lovely place for a trap. “Good.” It was also inarguably outside of Cynara’s domain. “Let’s go there.”

He stalked behind a silent Leo all the way to the gate. People stared. He didn’t mind. He was a Mara, after all. He was supposed to be frightening.

Leo was not the least bit frightened. They stood on the grassy plain outside of Cloverleaf, Leo returning Luke’s glare calmly. “Now that we’re safe,” he began, with more sarcasm than Luke had known Leo was capable of, “maybe you can explain why you’re here unannounced?”

Luke grabbed for words. I was worried sounded too weak, too stupid. You were an idiot was a matter of course for cy’Luca, sadly. If he visited every former student who’d been stupid, he’d never have time to teach.

“What happened?” he snarled. Leo knew why he was here. He was just wasting time.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

No, he was taunting Luke, playing with him.

“Don’t give me that shit.” What sort of game was he playing? What was Cynara playing at? “Mike comes back from one of his little ‘field trips’, and there you are on the front page of this place’s newspaper, collared.

“So?” The little shit looked smug.

Luke reminded himself that punching someone else’s Kept was a crime, and that he really did not want to get in a war with Boom. He took several calming breaths and counted to ten in his head. “Leo. Who collared you?”

Either it hadn’t been the question Leo had been expecting, or Luke had hit a nerve. Leo’s smile was tight and humorless. “Cya, obviously. I thought you already figured that out.”

“Why in hell would you allow something like that to happen?” Was he stuck? Did he need help getting out of the situation? “Did she fuck with your head?”

Mike, he realized, would be yelling at him about his level of tact (or lack thereof) right now. Luke didn’t care. This was his Student.

His Student who was about as impressed with him right now as Mike would be. Leo was not shouting at Luke, but even he could tell the boy was close.

“No. She did not. I would appreciate it if you would avoid making unfounded accusations against my crew.”

It’s your crew that’s the problem. Luke barely managed to not say it. He counted to ten again and tried to calm himself down. They didn’t want a war. They didn’t want a war.


Next: soon

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1062426.html. You can comment here or there.

Languary, a finish!

I am almost done translating an opening sentence into Whispers Drop!

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. —Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle (1948)

Write this – (I am) sitting sink kitchen while in – I

Hunsharn din shimorn tishor [kitchen] chur-chi – [I]

All I have left is kitchen as a modifier and a personal pronoun!

so durd-, “used for” is probably right here, it’s the sink used for kitchen.

Kitchen, kitchen.

Okay, “To cook” is tenda

He/she cooks (continuous) is tendothechi, in

tothechi, cooks-in, kitchen.

durdtothechi, for the kitchen

And Personal pronouns!

Fan, Feb, fif, fefi I, she, he, ungendered-person,

Hunsharn din shimorn tishor durdtothechi chur-chi – fan

Yay! I did it!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1062175.html. You can comment here or there.

Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part VII


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Four: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Five: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Six: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal


Fran woke the Mayor. “Gorjarn is coming. He’s going to demand me, but it doesn’t work out any better for your people if you give me over or don’t.” To the sleepy man’s face, she explained, “I’m a Ranger. We’re supposed to know things. This is what we’re going to do.”

She knew where all the weapons were. She set the mayor to waking up people and gathering them. She grabbed a team of sleepy farmers to repair the walls. Too many scouts had come through that weak spot, come up over the tree.

That left her free to do a series of protective Workings while she walked in circles around the camp, pointing out flaws and correcting weapons stances. They had only a few hours, and they were sleepy and confused. It might not work.

“Look,” she said, not directly to the teenager, but nobody else was around. “This might not work this time. But if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll work next time. Okay?”

Nobody answered her. Somehow she wasn’t surprised.


Next: DW~LJ


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Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part VI


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Four: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Five: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal


Fran surrendered herself to Gorjarn, then watched as he destroyed Jackson anyway. She woke gasping for breath, the feel of the blade he’d killed her with still chilly and painful in her chest.

She paced the town from dusk until the moment Gorjarn for shouted her, noting everything, and then let him kill her again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

The teenager watched her through every incarnation, her eyes so wide, her jaw so set. Fran watched the teen, in turn. It was a shitty way to make a plan, but it was what she had.

She woke up at two past midnight, her chest burning. Gorjarn didn’t get any more creative with his murder, at least.

She was ready.


Next: DW~LJ


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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1061660.html. You can comment here or there.

Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part V


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal
Part Four: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal


Fran woke in the motel room as the sun was just starting to come up. She snuck up into the bell tower and hid, watching as the people of Jackson looked for her and failed.

She watched as they were overrun by Gorjarn’s people, each of them led off in chains. As they led away a skinny teenager, the girl looked directly at Fran, her eyes wide and terrified.

She woke early, shaking, curled in on herself from the way she’d fallen asleep in the bell tower. There had to be a better way.

She woke the villagers early and chivied and coaxed them out of town. They watched from a ridge miles away as Gorjarn burned Jackson to the ground. The teenager looked at Fran and shook her head.

Fran woke stiff and unhappy. She grabbed her gear bag and staked through the streets, looking for weapons. Spears, sure. Pipe torches, check. Baseball bats, check.

Jackson had three hundred adults and a third that many young children. If they could be armed…

…if they could be armed, it turned out, they might still be snuck up on by Gorjarn’s scouts, coming through the holes in the wall. The teenager screamed “Ranger”, a moment before Fran fell unconscious.


Next: DW~LJ


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Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part IV


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Three: Dreamwidth ~ Livejournal


Fran forced herself awake early. The night was still dark, but she could feel that the leaves she’d gone to sleep in had already transformed themselves into a cheap motel bed.

She’d done every protective Working on herself she could think of before going to sleep. It hadn’t worked. So someone very powerful was transporting her back to Jackson during the night…

…or someone was turning the clock back on Jackson to the day before. She swung her legs down, missed running into her gear bag this time, and headed out into town.

The antsy dog was sleeping in front of the supply depot. The weak spot in the wall was restored. The tree overhanging the wall didn’t have the raw place anymore where she’d scraped the bark. Far out on the horizon, she could see a force of people growing closer.

She woke the Mayor. They woke the defense force, such as it was. The pitiful force gathered in front of the gate, ten people to Gorjarn’s fifty warriors.

“Give us Franciszka the Denier!” Gorjarn shouted. The townspeople stared at Fran. Her, they could take. She was an easy target.

As she darted towards the wall, she saw one skinny teenager staring at her, eyes wide.


Next: DW ~ LJ


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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1060875.html. You can comment here or there.

The Good Hunt

Written to [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt

The prompt call is still open! Leave me a prompt: here

I should probably warn: this is on the grimmer side of Addergoole stuff, not for AG itself, but for the apocalypse around it.

Shush had been following the hellhound since lunch.

The ‘hound was in three classes with Shush, only one after lunch, but the school was small and it wasn’t hard to figure out where the hellhound had gone. And after class, well, it was every man for themselves, and Shush had had no problem at all following the thing.

They were all things, of course. It hadn’t taken him more than a heartbeat to figure out he was in a school full of demonspawn. They were all around: the Pretty Ones and the Fierce Ones, the Fancy Pantsers and the Horror Shows. But a hellhound had killed Shush’s sister, so he was going after the hellhound first.

It looked like a girl. It looked like a short girl, not even five feet tall, with pretty blue eyes and warm brown skin. It had been trying to make friends with Shush the whole week, helping him find stuff in this maze, telling him secrets about the other students. Shush was already indebted – stupid, stupid, but he’d never known a demon to look so much like a person before.

The first thing he and his sister had learned about the demons was don’t get indebted. They’d watched their neighbor end up the thrall to one of those things, because Mr. Morrison had thought having running water and power was more important than his independence or his brain.

The second thing they’d learned was kill with rowan. A hunter had driven through, killed off the demon controlling Mr. Morrison, and left, leaving behind rowan daggers for Shush and Sahanna.

The third thing they’d learned was demons lie. They lied, and they hid their faces, and it wasn’t until they’d let the refugee women into their house – scraggly and feral looking, but human, he’d thought – that they’d turned into Horror Shows. They’d left Shush and Sahanna alive. They’d been after their parents.

He hadn’t had to learn that demons killed. He’d known that since the first day they showed up on TV. The hellhound that followed Sahanna home had been another page in a lesson book that was already too full.

Shush hadn’t been able to get his rowan dagger through security – no surprise, since the head of security was another demon, old-school bat wings and all. But the thing that had been calling itself Ema, the hellhound he was chasing now, she’d shown Shush the grotto. And in the grotto, it was a pretty simple matter to find the rowan tree.

The hell-hound rounded a corner. There was nobody else around. Shush followed the thing around the corner and stabbed his makeshift rowan blade through its chest.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1060848.html. You can comment here or there.

Groundhog Day, Faerie Apocalypse, Part III


Part One: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal
Part Two: Dreamwidth ~ Live Journal


Fran woke with a start. The world was too soft. She’d bedded down in an old substation, barricading the door behind her. She opened her eyes cautiously.

The polyester curtain was hard to see in the moonlight, but she recognized the pattern. Likewise the awful blanket over her. She swung her feet down, hitting her gear bag. That was the same place it had been the day before!

How was she here again? Fran hadn’t met anyone in the town good enough to pull her out of a concrete box without her noticing. What game were they playing? Time to confront them with it.

She grabbed her bag and headed out of the motel as if she belonged there. It was well before dawn, and only a few people were on the street. They smiled at her, as if nothing was wrong. Fran smiled back, wondering how they planned to betray her.

A teenager skidded up from the direction of the front gate. “There’s bandits up there! Gorjarn’s army! They’re demanding fealty!”

What, again? Fran frowned. This was all wrong.

The mayor patted the teenager on the shoulder. “We’ll get through it. We always do. What are they asking for this time.”

“The Ranger.”

All eyes turned to Fran. She spun on her heel and started running.


Next: DW ~ LJ


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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1060373.html. You can comment here or there.

February Theme Poll!

Hello! It’s time for the February Theme Poll!

These polls determine the theme for Patreon writing for the month, spurring the prompt call and from there several stories.

Want to check out my Patreon? Look here.
For just $1, you can read all the Patreon stories; for $5/month, you can prompt in the prompt calls!

Don’t have Dreamwidth? Please feel free to vote in the comments.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1060312.html. You can comment here or there.