Well, it's quite hard to balance the installments of the story so that the characters don't get forgotten about -- and I'm really only juggling three locations at any given time -- so now that the King in Yellow is loose in London, Labdaris has fled back to his Enclave and Grace has lost the plot I've got a lot to write about. So even your prompts may not be sufficient to nudge me offtrack as I try and tie the threads together so that the timeline stays consistent :)
Boots on the ground The air rushed back into the quarry with the force of a gale as Grace's ritual magic finally fell apart. Despite being sat on the ground, Lord Derby and the soldiers were knocked flat by the force of it, and even though it was now air rushing past their faces it still felt as though they were suffocating. Bodies fell back to the ground, and the active Gate fragments evaporated into thin grey smoke that quickly dissipated. "Oh Der-by!" sang Grace, her voice warbling oddly as the strange behaviour of the air in the quarry tore it apart after it left her mouth. "You came down here for me, didn't you? I saw you run down the steps to your death! I shall make it quick, Derby, a blessing after all the trouble you've caused me." Lord Derby sat up, noting that the wind was dropping quickly, and looked around. It was now too dark to really see anything, and his skin crawled with the idea that Grace might be heading this way, with only murder on her mind. He looked around, barely able to make out Tomasz and Szymon nearby, and wished he had a plan for this situation.
"The King will not be happy if she kills Derby," said Memnith. "I think we shall have to stop her." "Why us?" "Because she's a mage and so are we," said Memnith. "The agreement on the three branches policing themselves dates back to the Magna Carta. It would probably help if we could all see what we're doing though. Well, if some of could, anyway." Elizabeth looked around at the blackness of the quarry and agreed that some kind of light would be better than none. Memnith concentrated, and his fingers dipped into his pockets and pulled out a tiny vial of a glittering mineral. He flipped the top off and poured it out, the grains getting caught by the Power and hovering in mid-air. Almost immediately he started sweating: it took a lot of effort and practice to get the Power to support physical mass instead of just moving it around. After a moment she started to wonder what he was doing: a light spell should have been so trivial to him that he could cast it in his sleep. The spell coiled lazily around and then, as Memnith released it, whipped across the quarry like a snapped hawser. For a moment nothing changed, then she realised that she could see everything in the quarry as clearly as though it were daylight. "Not a normal light spell," she said, squinting around her. "There's... an atunement?" "Anyone who's been touched by the King," said Memnith looking proud of himself, "can see as though it were daylight. Everyone else is still blind in the darkness."
A sudden cry of pain caused them both to turn this way and that, looking for the source. Elizabeth found it first and pointed: a woman was standing over another person and stabbing downwards with some kind of large knife. As the knife descended again there was another scream, and then a second person grabbed the woman around the waist. She pulled the knife free from the fallen person and Elizabeth shuddered as she drove the knife into the head of the person who'd grabbed her.
"Tomasz," said Lord Derby urgently. "Can you see anything?" "No," said Tomasz. "But I have my boots on the ground and air in my lungs, and I am grateful for small mercies." "I can see," said Lord Derby. "But I don't know why-" He cut off as the first scream broke the now-still air in the quarry. "What was that?" "A scream," said Tomasz. "Is this another gift of the King?" Lord Derby blinked, and looked around himself, very, very careful. "There is no yellow tinge to my sight," he said. "I think this is something else." "But you cannot be sure." They were interrupted by another scream. "Curse of blessing," said Lord Derby, "take my hand. I think Grace is killing people and hoping that they're me."
3 comments:
Well, it's quite hard to balance the installments of the story so that the characters don't get forgotten about -- and I'm really only juggling three locations at any given time -- so now that the King in Yellow is loose in London, Labdaris has fled back to his Enclave and Grace has lost the plot I've got a lot to write about. So even your prompts may not be sufficient to nudge me offtrack as I try and tie the threads together so that the timeline stays consistent :)
Boots on the ground
The air rushed back into the quarry with the force of a gale as Grace's ritual magic finally fell apart. Despite being sat on the ground, Lord Derby and the soldiers were knocked flat by the force of it, and even though it was now air rushing past their faces it still felt as though they were suffocating. Bodies fell back to the ground, and the active Gate fragments evaporated into thin grey smoke that quickly dissipated.
"Oh Der-by!" sang Grace, her voice warbling oddly as the strange behaviour of the air in the quarry tore it apart after it left her mouth. "You came down here for me, didn't you? I saw you run down the steps to your death! I shall make it quick, Derby, a blessing after all the trouble you've caused me."
Lord Derby sat up, noting that the wind was dropping quickly, and looked around. It was now too dark to really see anything, and his skin crawled with the idea that Grace might be heading this way, with only murder on her mind. He looked around, barely able to make out Tomasz and Szymon nearby, and wished he had a plan for this situation.
"The King will not be happy if she kills Derby," said Memnith. "I think we shall have to stop her."
"Why us?"
"Because she's a mage and so are we," said Memnith. "The agreement on the three branches policing themselves dates back to the Magna Carta. It would probably help if we could all see what we're doing though. Well, if some of could, anyway."
Elizabeth looked around at the blackness of the quarry and agreed that some kind of light would be better than none. Memnith concentrated, and his fingers dipped into his pockets and pulled out a tiny vial of a glittering mineral. He flipped the top off and poured it out, the grains getting caught by the Power and hovering in mid-air. Almost immediately he started sweating: it took a lot of effort and practice to get the Power to support physical mass instead of just moving it around. After a moment she started to wonder what he was doing: a light spell should have been so trivial to him that he could cast it in his sleep.
The spell coiled lazily around and then, as Memnith released it, whipped across the quarry like a snapped hawser. For a moment nothing changed, then she realised that she could see everything in the quarry as clearly as though it were daylight.
"Not a normal light spell," she said, squinting around her. "There's... an atunement?"
"Anyone who's been touched by the King," said Memnith looking proud of himself, "can see as though it were daylight. Everyone else is still blind in the darkness."
A sudden cry of pain caused them both to turn this way and that, looking for the source. Elizabeth found it first and pointed: a woman was standing over another person and stabbing downwards with some kind of large knife. As the knife descended again there was another scream, and then a second person grabbed the woman around the waist. She pulled the knife free from the fallen person and Elizabeth shuddered as she drove the knife into the head of the person who'd grabbed her.
"Tomasz," said Lord Derby urgently. "Can you see anything?"
"No," said Tomasz. "But I have my boots on the ground and air in my lungs, and I am grateful for small mercies."
"I can see," said Lord Derby. "But I don't know why-" He cut off as the first scream broke the now-still air in the quarry. "What was that?"
"A scream," said Tomasz. "Is this another gift of the King?"
Lord Derby blinked, and looked around himself, very, very careful. "There is no yellow tinge to my sight," he said. "I think this is something else."
"But you cannot be sure."
They were interrupted by another scream.
"Curse of blessing," said Lord Derby, "take my hand. I think Grace is killing people and hoping that they're me."
Greg - okay, good. I shall proceed with making use of the most random and bizarre prompts I can think of then :D
That's some clever magic from Memnith, though I suppose I should expect no less. I am very much looking forward to what comes next here.
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