11/17/20
Dialogue... For some, dialogue comes easy, for others, it must be carefully considered, worked, worked, and worked some more. How much does each character know? How much can they share? When do they share it, why, and how do they prompt it? Sometimes, the characters themselves decide how things are going to go, and the author simply acts as a conduit for their dialogue and personalities to shine. I find myself giving over to their drives more frequently as I continue to sit down and force the words onto the pages. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe I'll have a rough draft for Plague done this year. Here's hoping. Meanwhile, artwork is done on the five kings and the newest version of Battle Kings is undergoing testing. Take a few moments and head over to the Battle Kings page to check out the new shield artwork, first released king artwork and back story for the King of Clubs. Additionally, Zariah's image and brief backstory can be found in the Racial War Saga page.
9/2/20
World building... One of my favorite parts of writing is delving into the deeper aspects of world building. I started with a general idea of the universe in which everything takes place, which inevitably led to deities. The deities then took me to theology, and of course, magic. Following this natural (if you will) progression has taken me into some deep and exciting rabbit holes. For example, if the gods are responsible for creating the world, then it stands to reason that they would be responsible for magic. But as evolution works, that magic eventually mutates into something even out of their control. Many of the fantasy games and books I've enjoyed over the years assumed that because it was "magic" people would just suspend their disbelief and accept that magic just... was. It was just sitting there waiting for people to pick it up and toss fireballs around. I wanted to know more and understand where the magic came from, how it functioned and what purpose it served, even how it evolved. That evolutionary line of thinking led me into the different races. Obviously, humans had to be in there; readers simply relate better to humans for obvious reasons. Then the modern standard Tolkien-esque fantasy races such as dwarves, halflings (hobbits) and (tall) elves had to be there as, if anything, industry standards. Remember, prior to Tolkien's genre-defining works, these fantasy creatures were macguffins intended to teach lessons, usually as tiny creatures (elves, gnomes, dwarves, fairies, leprechauns, imps, gremlins, etc.). The Heinzelmannchen of Cologne, Grimm's Fairy Tales and many of Hans Christian Andersen's works were intended to teach lessons. Tolkien changed a lot of the precepts which made the traditional fairies into something more human-like, and thus more relatable to the general reader. Additionally, C.S. Lewis' Narnia stories began to anthropomorphize animals which eventually led to Dungeons & Dragons and the modern fantasy tropes. So common are they now, that using them has become almost a mandatory expression in modern fantasy, as people have preconceived concepts of what these modern races look like. This tradition makes it easier, and often unnecessary, to describe what they look like, and how they generally act. So I asked myself why they have yet to evolve, again. It has been 80+ years since Tolkien published the Hobbit (1937) and evolved the fantasy characters. Admittedly, I have not read every fantasy novel in print, but, in my experience, I have yet to see the evolution. So, I used several industry standards, added a few new races and placed them firmly into the history and magic of my world, "Reality". As I dive deeper into this history, and draw on many experiences from the real world to depict the struggles of different races, it is not my goal to make political statements or "take sides", but to tell a tale that shows that accepting and embracing the differences inherent in the world are necessary for evolution. Meanwhile, I want to show the evolutionary models I have created and evolved (in many, MANY pages of notes) over the past 30 years. The Racial War Saga (the first book Awakenings was self-published through Authorhouse in 2009) is a high fantasy/sword and sorcery tale of danger, magic, and friendships that change the world; that change the Realm of Reality. Yes, before I wrote the book, I developed an RPG to put to paper the ideas I had in a structured format. As I grew older (the original idea came to me around 14 years old) and experienced life, the game evolved with me as I would break out the old ideas and touch-up, add new ideas and continue to develop the world. I can't use the numerical values of the game in the novels, obviously, but I still try to stay true to the strengths and weaknesses of the myriad races and magics. While actively (finally) writing book 2, I find myself alt-tabbing over to the game concepts that have been with me for so long and re-evaluating, updating and cleaning up as I go. World building is personal. It requires deep introspection and scrapes at the core of who I am and what I want to see and feel and engage with in the fantasy Realm of Reality. I love and respect all the authors who can pull off creating multiple worlds with varying beliefs, races and struggles, as I have spent much of the free time in my life, to date, trying to piece mine together into a single interactive world. Hopefully, I'll see you there.
World building... One of my favorite parts of writing is delving into the deeper aspects of world building. I started with a general idea of the universe in which everything takes place, which inevitably led to deities. The deities then took me to theology, and of course, magic. Following this natural (if you will) progression has taken me into some deep and exciting rabbit holes. For example, if the gods are responsible for creating the world, then it stands to reason that they would be responsible for magic. But as evolution works, that magic eventually mutates into something even out of their control. Many of the fantasy games and books I've enjoyed over the years assumed that because it was "magic" people would just suspend their disbelief and accept that magic just... was. It was just sitting there waiting for people to pick it up and toss fireballs around. I wanted to know more and understand where the magic came from, how it functioned and what purpose it served, even how it evolved. That evolutionary line of thinking led me into the different races. Obviously, humans had to be in there; readers simply relate better to humans for obvious reasons. Then the modern standard Tolkien-esque fantasy races such as dwarves, halflings (hobbits) and (tall) elves had to be there as, if anything, industry standards. Remember, prior to Tolkien's genre-defining works, these fantasy creatures were macguffins intended to teach lessons, usually as tiny creatures (elves, gnomes, dwarves, fairies, leprechauns, imps, gremlins, etc.). The Heinzelmannchen of Cologne, Grimm's Fairy Tales and many of Hans Christian Andersen's works were intended to teach lessons. Tolkien changed a lot of the precepts which made the traditional fairies into something more human-like, and thus more relatable to the general reader. Additionally, C.S. Lewis' Narnia stories began to anthropomorphize animals which eventually led to Dungeons & Dragons and the modern fantasy tropes. So common are they now, that using them has become almost a mandatory expression in modern fantasy, as people have preconceived concepts of what these modern races look like. This tradition makes it easier, and often unnecessary, to describe what they look like, and how they generally act. So I asked myself why they have yet to evolve, again. It has been 80+ years since Tolkien published the Hobbit (1937) and evolved the fantasy characters. Admittedly, I have not read every fantasy novel in print, but, in my experience, I have yet to see the evolution. So, I used several industry standards, added a few new races and placed them firmly into the history and magic of my world, "Reality". As I dive deeper into this history, and draw on many experiences from the real world to depict the struggles of different races, it is not my goal to make political statements or "take sides", but to tell a tale that shows that accepting and embracing the differences inherent in the world are necessary for evolution. Meanwhile, I want to show the evolutionary models I have created and evolved (in many, MANY pages of notes) over the past 30 years. The Racial War Saga (the first book Awakenings was self-published through Authorhouse in 2009) is a high fantasy/sword and sorcery tale of danger, magic, and friendships that change the world; that change the Realm of Reality. Yes, before I wrote the book, I developed an RPG to put to paper the ideas I had in a structured format. As I grew older (the original idea came to me around 14 years old) and experienced life, the game evolved with me as I would break out the old ideas and touch-up, add new ideas and continue to develop the world. I can't use the numerical values of the game in the novels, obviously, but I still try to stay true to the strengths and weaknesses of the myriad races and magics. While actively (finally) writing book 2, I find myself alt-tabbing over to the game concepts that have been with me for so long and re-evaluating, updating and cleaning up as I go. World building is personal. It requires deep introspection and scrapes at the core of who I am and what I want to see and feel and engage with in the fantasy Realm of Reality. I love and respect all the authors who can pull off creating multiple worlds with varying beliefs, races and struggles, as I have spent much of the free time in my life, to date, trying to piece mine together into a single interactive world. Hopefully, I'll see you there.
7/31/20
Hello again! It has been awhile. I hope you have been able to check out the "how to" play Battle Kings videos and had some fun playing while stuck at home. Just to give you a quick update, I've been working on some character customization concepts (including new Art!) for Battle Kings and trying to figure out a way to re-introduce the Bone King and the kings' (level 2) powers into the print-and-play universe. Additionally, Book 2 of the Racial War Saga has been a major topic of conversation in the O'Connell household and writing has reached the forefront of personal projects. So, with that being said, here is a small excerpt about about everyone's favorite marichoa, Kalil (cut & paste formatting be damned). Enjoy!
Long ago the War of Thirteen Kings drove a spike into the heart of the dwarven people. This forced the formation of several factions. The Lost were a magic-fearing group among those that left Dif’Gazrak. Kingless and homeless, they traveled across nations and an ocean into the wild northern continent of Kovin, away from any known civilization, away from their past. Their numbers depleted, their resolve weakened, the dwarves settled into a massive glacier; Frostholme. The once proud Mountain Dwarves became despondent in what the pioneers believed to be their icy tomb.
Instead, the city grew as the survivors chiseled out a new home. Gradually, they evolved and came to call themselves Frost Dwarves and clans formed within their culture. The warriors in the Ice Hammer clan dedicated themselves to the defense of the city. The Keepers of the Blue Flame held tightly to the secrets of the frost forges. The Ice Fishers were charged with hunting and gathering. The Gemgates rose to prominence as excavators but in their explorations they uncovered a divine relic; one of the Three Chains of Gold. Objects so powerful that when they came together the bearer would ascend into the heavens as a god. A long hall was formed in the center of Frostholme where the lead clans assembled and designed laws and planned city growth and defenses. It was there that the four major clans put a plan into place to hide and guard the relic. Centuries passed peacefully and, in their complacency, they were little prepared for the invasion of Velthanjantle, the demonic avatar of the god Kargonis. The demon’s goal was to unite the Three Chains of Gold and act as a conduit for the dark god to re-enter the world.
Despite the efforts of Vorust Rimfrost, the leader of the Ice Hammer clan, the dwarven defenders proved no match for the invading avatar. The immense creature and his spellweaver handler, Garrian, cracked Frostholme’s defenses and its people within a week of his arrival. Garrian was nigh unstoppable. He possessed one of the chains, having unearthed it in the demon’s tomb years before. The Ice Hammer clan was nearly decimated, though they battled the demon valiantly. The rest of the Frost Dwarf nation evacuated into the deepest parts of the city where the Keepers of the Blue Flame sealed them under tons of ice. In their fear, the Frost Dwarves that remained behind had imprisoned their people in the depths of a glacier. There they remained. Those that stayed in the city proper were enslaved, tortured or slain outright. The invasion and the resulting pain, death and imprisonment of the Frost Dwarf nation were all a result of one dwarf.
Felissa Gemgate, the single heir and key to protecting the relic, had been captured by Garrian and tortured for nearly fifteen years until she broke. She led her captors to the Frost Dwarf city with the promise of handing the demon the relic in her charge. Instead, during the ensuing battle for Frosthome, she encased herself in an amethyst prism in a desperate attempt to keep the relic out of the demon’s grasp. Her temporary plan worked to delay the inevitable. Despite her fear and loathing of magic, she donned the chain before her encapsulation and hid it in plain sight.
Velthanjantle and Garrian cared little for the recklessness of their captive, but when Felissa donned the chain, the resulting magical swell proved to the invaders that the chain was near. They razed Frostholme in a fruitless search for weeks until another surge of power drew them away. Far to the south another of the chains had been revealed and donned.
A day later, an expedition from Kalen Dorr arrived. The five travelers went to work helping the Frost Dwarves recover from the demon’s influence. One survivor, Derryn, held tightly to the fallen Ice Hammer leader’s mighty hammer, Cerulean Fist, until he asked the hulking newcomer, Kalil, to use it to smash the gemgate. He did so and released Felissa from her self-imposed prison. The resulting wave of magical energy rendered Kalil unconscious. Another of the travelers, a powerful spellweaver named Brohm, took the relic and chased Garrian and Velthanjantle to the south, intent on ending them once and for all. Unbeknownst to Kalil and Brohm however, their three companions bore ill intent to Frostholme. They released the Frost Dwarves from their frozen prisons and enslaved their minds with runic magic. The dwarves began to tear each other apart. Kalil, with the help of the elderly Frost Dwarf Derryn, was able to slay two slavers, but the third escaped. With Brohm gone, Kalil had no way of returning to his home in Kalen Dorr. He was stranded among strangers who were weary of his presence in their ruined home.
Kalil’s already precarious position among the dwarves was made even more dangerous by the intrusion of two gods in his mind. The magical backlash from releasing Felissa had also impregnated him with the spirits of Treggalythori, the goddess of color and beauty and Viktor, the god languages. Kalil feared he had made a mistake in allowing them inside his mind. He attempted to distract himself by helping the dwarves recover.
Blue-skinned, white-eyed Frost Dwarves worked to rebuild their city. They hammered and chipped massive slabs of ice, placed them into sleds and hauled them to fill the many open wounds in Frostholme. They needed all the help they could muster, so tentatively accepted Kalil’s strength. He lifted one ice block, carried it to a sled and dropped it noisily. He usually enjoyed manual labor. He could always relax and avoid thinking when performing menial tasks, but today his head was full of voices. The two dead gods were distracting most of the time, frightening sometimes, and annoying all the time. His dreams were vivid. He often did not know if he was sleeping or awake as symbols and colors pervaded his vision.
“Keep droppin’ em’ like that’n you’ll bring the rest of the damn glacier down around our heads,” said one of the nearby dwarves. He spoke in the native dwarf dialect. The dwarf sniggered and nodded at his friend nearby.
Kalil hesitated. He did not know that he knew the dwarf language.
“He’s a big’un though,” suggested the other.
“Aye, but about as dumb as the ice he’s throwin’.” They both chuckled and together, lifted a block of ice half the size of the one Kalil had just dropped.
“We teach you in your sleep,” one of the voices in his head answered his unspoken question. “In your dreams, young one,” said Treggalythori, “With our aid, you will soon be a master of the Rainbow Braid and Venestia Rae, our language.”
“Wot if oy don’t wanna learn?” Kalil mumbled. The two dwarves looked at him quizzically, then at each other and shared another laugh.
“It can’t be helped,” she replied. Warmth settled over Kalil. He felt a tingle within that gave him comfort. He was unaccustomed to such emotions. “You poor thing,” she continued, “You have lived a hard life. There are mixed memories in your thoughts, they are difficult to assemble. Can you tell me about Kilb and Lap? You have history with them.”
“They’re me brovers,” Kalil admitted in his deep voice. Sadness reflected in the lowering of his flaccid ears. “Oy’ve known em’s long as oy can member, oy miss em’.”
“You talkin’ ta us?” asked one of the Frost Dwarves, once again in their own language.
Kalil only looked at him for a moment then lifted another broken slab of ice.
“Who’s he talkin’ to?” Another dwarf asked the first.
“I dunno,” answered the other, “He’s a strange giant.”
“Hey,” the first dwarf grunted, “Who’re ya talkin’ to?” This time he spoke in the common tongue.
“The voices,” Kalil did not look.
“They will not understand.” Treggalythori cautioned.
“I don’t hear no voices, cept yours and mine, said the dwarf. What voices?”
“In me ead’,” Kalil clarified.
“I can hear your thoughts, Kalil,” Treggalythori’s words overtook Kalil’s immediate thoughts. “You need not speak aloud what you want me to hear.”
“Ya can stop doing that then, there ain’t no voices. You’re makin’ me nervous, and when I get nervous, I’ve been known to fell a tree or two,” he chuckled roughly. “Your legs remind me of a couple trees.”
“That don’t make sense,” said Kalil to the goddess as he dropped the ice onto a sled. The dwarf misinterpreted his comment.
“You’re a thick’un aren’t you, said the first dwarf in his language, “It means I’ll get me ax and chop ye down,” said the first dwarf. The other laughed heartily.
“Think, Kalil, and I will understand,” she pressed.
“Sled’s full,” he said to the dwarf.
Velthanjantle sundered the inner divisions of Frostholme. Walls of ice had been smashed by the demon’s wrath. Kalil lifted another massive slab and hefted it onto his shoulder. Steadying it with his other hand, he stomped down a slight decline and waded through a small pool of dwarven workers. He tossed the ice into a hole and returned to where the other two dwarves stood watching. They shook their heads in disbelief.
“Well doggy,” said the first dwarf, “I’ll let ya keep your legs for now,” he turned to his companion. “Let’s dump this sled’n go to the entrance, I’m sure there’s more work ta be done there.”
“Aye,” the other dwarf nodded, “This’un will clear this area afore we can even fill a sled,” he noted in the dwarf language. They gathered their picks and the sled reins and trudged off toward the hole.
“Beautiful ice sculptures and incredibly fashioned homes once stood here,” said the goddess in Kalil’s head, “They were shattered during the demon’s reign.”
“They don’t like me here,” said Kalil, “Oy came wit the other three.”
He flung another enormous block of ice into the pit then stopped to look around. Several dwarves with long metal tubes roamed nearby. Everywhere they pointed, the ice melted. Subtle jets of blue and green fire emitted from the tubes in a variety of widths.
“Crude, but effective,” said Treggalythori. “These dwarves hate magic and they have found other means to accomplish their tasks.”
“Why?”
“They blame magic for the loss of their king, for their exile. Their whole culture avoids magic at all costs.”
“Wha bout the one in the gem?” Kalil still stood staring into the hole. Derryn approached, took his hand and gently pulled him to the side.
“That magic touched this’un,” said Derryn solemnly as he escorted Kalil to a safer spot then urged him to take a seat.
“Aye,” said another as he followed them. “He talks ta hisself and stares off at nothin’ a lot.” He scratched between Kalil’s long, floppy ears then favored one and he instinctively cocked his head to the side. His race of marichoa had never stepped foot in Frostholme, and the dwarves had no preconceived biases. They did know dogs though, and Kalil closely resembled a hound dog; one three times as tall and three times stronger than any Frost Dwarf and who was apparently insane.
Keep checking back for more from the upcoming, long-awaited sequel to Awakenings.
Hello again! It has been awhile. I hope you have been able to check out the "how to" play Battle Kings videos and had some fun playing while stuck at home. Just to give you a quick update, I've been working on some character customization concepts (including new Art!) for Battle Kings and trying to figure out a way to re-introduce the Bone King and the kings' (level 2) powers into the print-and-play universe. Additionally, Book 2 of the Racial War Saga has been a major topic of conversation in the O'Connell household and writing has reached the forefront of personal projects. So, with that being said, here is a small excerpt about about everyone's favorite marichoa, Kalil (cut & paste formatting be damned). Enjoy!
Long ago the War of Thirteen Kings drove a spike into the heart of the dwarven people. This forced the formation of several factions. The Lost were a magic-fearing group among those that left Dif’Gazrak. Kingless and homeless, they traveled across nations and an ocean into the wild northern continent of Kovin, away from any known civilization, away from their past. Their numbers depleted, their resolve weakened, the dwarves settled into a massive glacier; Frostholme. The once proud Mountain Dwarves became despondent in what the pioneers believed to be their icy tomb.
Instead, the city grew as the survivors chiseled out a new home. Gradually, they evolved and came to call themselves Frost Dwarves and clans formed within their culture. The warriors in the Ice Hammer clan dedicated themselves to the defense of the city. The Keepers of the Blue Flame held tightly to the secrets of the frost forges. The Ice Fishers were charged with hunting and gathering. The Gemgates rose to prominence as excavators but in their explorations they uncovered a divine relic; one of the Three Chains of Gold. Objects so powerful that when they came together the bearer would ascend into the heavens as a god. A long hall was formed in the center of Frostholme where the lead clans assembled and designed laws and planned city growth and defenses. It was there that the four major clans put a plan into place to hide and guard the relic. Centuries passed peacefully and, in their complacency, they were little prepared for the invasion of Velthanjantle, the demonic avatar of the god Kargonis. The demon’s goal was to unite the Three Chains of Gold and act as a conduit for the dark god to re-enter the world.
Despite the efforts of Vorust Rimfrost, the leader of the Ice Hammer clan, the dwarven defenders proved no match for the invading avatar. The immense creature and his spellweaver handler, Garrian, cracked Frostholme’s defenses and its people within a week of his arrival. Garrian was nigh unstoppable. He possessed one of the chains, having unearthed it in the demon’s tomb years before. The Ice Hammer clan was nearly decimated, though they battled the demon valiantly. The rest of the Frost Dwarf nation evacuated into the deepest parts of the city where the Keepers of the Blue Flame sealed them under tons of ice. In their fear, the Frost Dwarves that remained behind had imprisoned their people in the depths of a glacier. There they remained. Those that stayed in the city proper were enslaved, tortured or slain outright. The invasion and the resulting pain, death and imprisonment of the Frost Dwarf nation were all a result of one dwarf.
Felissa Gemgate, the single heir and key to protecting the relic, had been captured by Garrian and tortured for nearly fifteen years until she broke. She led her captors to the Frost Dwarf city with the promise of handing the demon the relic in her charge. Instead, during the ensuing battle for Frosthome, she encased herself in an amethyst prism in a desperate attempt to keep the relic out of the demon’s grasp. Her temporary plan worked to delay the inevitable. Despite her fear and loathing of magic, she donned the chain before her encapsulation and hid it in plain sight.
Velthanjantle and Garrian cared little for the recklessness of their captive, but when Felissa donned the chain, the resulting magical swell proved to the invaders that the chain was near. They razed Frostholme in a fruitless search for weeks until another surge of power drew them away. Far to the south another of the chains had been revealed and donned.
A day later, an expedition from Kalen Dorr arrived. The five travelers went to work helping the Frost Dwarves recover from the demon’s influence. One survivor, Derryn, held tightly to the fallen Ice Hammer leader’s mighty hammer, Cerulean Fist, until he asked the hulking newcomer, Kalil, to use it to smash the gemgate. He did so and released Felissa from her self-imposed prison. The resulting wave of magical energy rendered Kalil unconscious. Another of the travelers, a powerful spellweaver named Brohm, took the relic and chased Garrian and Velthanjantle to the south, intent on ending them once and for all. Unbeknownst to Kalil and Brohm however, their three companions bore ill intent to Frostholme. They released the Frost Dwarves from their frozen prisons and enslaved their minds with runic magic. The dwarves began to tear each other apart. Kalil, with the help of the elderly Frost Dwarf Derryn, was able to slay two slavers, but the third escaped. With Brohm gone, Kalil had no way of returning to his home in Kalen Dorr. He was stranded among strangers who were weary of his presence in their ruined home.
Kalil’s already precarious position among the dwarves was made even more dangerous by the intrusion of two gods in his mind. The magical backlash from releasing Felissa had also impregnated him with the spirits of Treggalythori, the goddess of color and beauty and Viktor, the god languages. Kalil feared he had made a mistake in allowing them inside his mind. He attempted to distract himself by helping the dwarves recover.
Blue-skinned, white-eyed Frost Dwarves worked to rebuild their city. They hammered and chipped massive slabs of ice, placed them into sleds and hauled them to fill the many open wounds in Frostholme. They needed all the help they could muster, so tentatively accepted Kalil’s strength. He lifted one ice block, carried it to a sled and dropped it noisily. He usually enjoyed manual labor. He could always relax and avoid thinking when performing menial tasks, but today his head was full of voices. The two dead gods were distracting most of the time, frightening sometimes, and annoying all the time. His dreams were vivid. He often did not know if he was sleeping or awake as symbols and colors pervaded his vision.
“Keep droppin’ em’ like that’n you’ll bring the rest of the damn glacier down around our heads,” said one of the nearby dwarves. He spoke in the native dwarf dialect. The dwarf sniggered and nodded at his friend nearby.
Kalil hesitated. He did not know that he knew the dwarf language.
“He’s a big’un though,” suggested the other.
“Aye, but about as dumb as the ice he’s throwin’.” They both chuckled and together, lifted a block of ice half the size of the one Kalil had just dropped.
“We teach you in your sleep,” one of the voices in his head answered his unspoken question. “In your dreams, young one,” said Treggalythori, “With our aid, you will soon be a master of the Rainbow Braid and Venestia Rae, our language.”
“Wot if oy don’t wanna learn?” Kalil mumbled. The two dwarves looked at him quizzically, then at each other and shared another laugh.
“It can’t be helped,” she replied. Warmth settled over Kalil. He felt a tingle within that gave him comfort. He was unaccustomed to such emotions. “You poor thing,” she continued, “You have lived a hard life. There are mixed memories in your thoughts, they are difficult to assemble. Can you tell me about Kilb and Lap? You have history with them.”
“They’re me brovers,” Kalil admitted in his deep voice. Sadness reflected in the lowering of his flaccid ears. “Oy’ve known em’s long as oy can member, oy miss em’.”
“You talkin’ ta us?” asked one of the Frost Dwarves, once again in their own language.
Kalil only looked at him for a moment then lifted another broken slab of ice.
“Who’s he talkin’ to?” Another dwarf asked the first.
“I dunno,” answered the other, “He’s a strange giant.”
“Hey,” the first dwarf grunted, “Who’re ya talkin’ to?” This time he spoke in the common tongue.
“The voices,” Kalil did not look.
“They will not understand.” Treggalythori cautioned.
“I don’t hear no voices, cept yours and mine, said the dwarf. What voices?”
“In me ead’,” Kalil clarified.
“I can hear your thoughts, Kalil,” Treggalythori’s words overtook Kalil’s immediate thoughts. “You need not speak aloud what you want me to hear.”
“Ya can stop doing that then, there ain’t no voices. You’re makin’ me nervous, and when I get nervous, I’ve been known to fell a tree or two,” he chuckled roughly. “Your legs remind me of a couple trees.”
“That don’t make sense,” said Kalil to the goddess as he dropped the ice onto a sled. The dwarf misinterpreted his comment.
“You’re a thick’un aren’t you, said the first dwarf in his language, “It means I’ll get me ax and chop ye down,” said the first dwarf. The other laughed heartily.
“Think, Kalil, and I will understand,” she pressed.
“Sled’s full,” he said to the dwarf.
Velthanjantle sundered the inner divisions of Frostholme. Walls of ice had been smashed by the demon’s wrath. Kalil lifted another massive slab and hefted it onto his shoulder. Steadying it with his other hand, he stomped down a slight decline and waded through a small pool of dwarven workers. He tossed the ice into a hole and returned to where the other two dwarves stood watching. They shook their heads in disbelief.
“Well doggy,” said the first dwarf, “I’ll let ya keep your legs for now,” he turned to his companion. “Let’s dump this sled’n go to the entrance, I’m sure there’s more work ta be done there.”
“Aye,” the other dwarf nodded, “This’un will clear this area afore we can even fill a sled,” he noted in the dwarf language. They gathered their picks and the sled reins and trudged off toward the hole.
“Beautiful ice sculptures and incredibly fashioned homes once stood here,” said the goddess in Kalil’s head, “They were shattered during the demon’s reign.”
“They don’t like me here,” said Kalil, “Oy came wit the other three.”
He flung another enormous block of ice into the pit then stopped to look around. Several dwarves with long metal tubes roamed nearby. Everywhere they pointed, the ice melted. Subtle jets of blue and green fire emitted from the tubes in a variety of widths.
“Crude, but effective,” said Treggalythori. “These dwarves hate magic and they have found other means to accomplish their tasks.”
“Why?”
“They blame magic for the loss of their king, for their exile. Their whole culture avoids magic at all costs.”
“Wha bout the one in the gem?” Kalil still stood staring into the hole. Derryn approached, took his hand and gently pulled him to the side.
“That magic touched this’un,” said Derryn solemnly as he escorted Kalil to a safer spot then urged him to take a seat.
“Aye,” said another as he followed them. “He talks ta hisself and stares off at nothin’ a lot.” He scratched between Kalil’s long, floppy ears then favored one and he instinctively cocked his head to the side. His race of marichoa had never stepped foot in Frostholme, and the dwarves had no preconceived biases. They did know dogs though, and Kalil closely resembled a hound dog; one three times as tall and three times stronger than any Frost Dwarf and who was apparently insane.
Keep checking back for more from the upcoming, long-awaited sequel to Awakenings.
4/1/20
Hello! I am AJ O’Connell, retired U.S. Air Force veteran, author and designer of the board game Battle Kings. Like most of you, the coronavirus COVID-19 has created a surplus of “extra” time at home, and it got me thinking.
“Self”, I said to myself, “If you’re at home more (and you’re retired), what do you think other people are doing right now?”
“Well”, I answered myself, “Trying to find the end of the internet, I’d imagine.”
“What will they do when they’ve found it,” I asked.
“They’ll try to find the bottom of streaming stuff.” I answered.
“Fair point, but how much can one watch and click before they weary of all those things?” I inquired of myself.
“Depends on the person, I guess,” answered I.
“Okay, okay, so what do you think is happening out in town-”
Getting impatient with myself, I cut myself off. “Nothing! Everyone’s at home!”
“No,” I patiently responded. At this point I think I’m being the bigger man by not getting angry back, “Not everyone is at home. There’re hospital workers, the trash crew picked up the trash yesterday… what do you think about the homeless folks? Or the people who don’t have food normally? How are they getting by?” I’m asking myself leading questions here, trying to illicit a response. My goodness I’m dumb, just not picking up on the flow of the conversation that I’m having with myself, sheesh.
“Food banks and such, I imagine-”
“Yes!” It was my turn to cut myself off. “They’re still open too! And likely exposed to a whole mess of this coronavirus crap too. But, think of it, aren’t most of them non-profits? Don’t they rely heavily on fundraisers to get money for helping those people on the streets?”
“Sure, I guess…”
“Well, grouping up has been cancelled around the world… so concerts, meetups, ritual gatherings (college fraternities must be getting hit hard), and… wait for it… fundraisers have also been cancelled.”
“Can we help?” I asked myself.
“Yep,” I answered.
Finally, my two hemispheres began to align. Battle Kings (the game I made in 2013 in case you aren’t keeping up) can be converted into a print and play version that can encourage families to get crafty with creating the pieces (and building the anticipation of playing). Then, I can sell it online and give the money to a local non-profit, the one I’ve been volunteering with for six years would do nicely, they do a lot of stuff in Pinellas County (where I live).
“But,” I asked myself once more,” What about the folks who can’t afford the $10, or they want to save every penny for potential future loss of income? What about the people who really don’t care about the awesome things happening at the Florida Dream Center? What about them? Huh? Huh?”
Man, I’m pushy.
“Make videos then, tell everyone how to play your game, regardless of their money situation. If they have internet, they can follow some quick tutorials and viola! Everyone has access to a new game.”
So, I says, “I am not very photogenisis… err, photorealisis… uh… (after a brief Google search) photogenic.”
“You’ll do fine!” I’m a decent motivator, I guess, because it worked on me. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
When the game is finished being converted to print and play, I am going to publish it for $10 on my website (www.ajopresents.com... uh... you're here already). $7.50 of each sale will go to the Florida Dream Center (www.floridadreamcenter.org) to help keep their doors open to continue their mission helping the poor, under-served, homeless and jobless. The other $2.50 will go to paying Paypal transaction fees and taxes.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I patted myself on the back.
“Don’t touch me!” I scolded myself, “social distancing man, social distancing.”
~AJ O'Connell
Hello! I am AJ O’Connell, retired U.S. Air Force veteran, author and designer of the board game Battle Kings. Like most of you, the coronavirus COVID-19 has created a surplus of “extra” time at home, and it got me thinking.
“Self”, I said to myself, “If you’re at home more (and you’re retired), what do you think other people are doing right now?”
“Well”, I answered myself, “Trying to find the end of the internet, I’d imagine.”
“What will they do when they’ve found it,” I asked.
“They’ll try to find the bottom of streaming stuff.” I answered.
“Fair point, but how much can one watch and click before they weary of all those things?” I inquired of myself.
“Depends on the person, I guess,” answered I.
“Okay, okay, so what do you think is happening out in town-”
Getting impatient with myself, I cut myself off. “Nothing! Everyone’s at home!”
“No,” I patiently responded. At this point I think I’m being the bigger man by not getting angry back, “Not everyone is at home. There’re hospital workers, the trash crew picked up the trash yesterday… what do you think about the homeless folks? Or the people who don’t have food normally? How are they getting by?” I’m asking myself leading questions here, trying to illicit a response. My goodness I’m dumb, just not picking up on the flow of the conversation that I’m having with myself, sheesh.
“Food banks and such, I imagine-”
“Yes!” It was my turn to cut myself off. “They’re still open too! And likely exposed to a whole mess of this coronavirus crap too. But, think of it, aren’t most of them non-profits? Don’t they rely heavily on fundraisers to get money for helping those people on the streets?”
“Sure, I guess…”
“Well, grouping up has been cancelled around the world… so concerts, meetups, ritual gatherings (college fraternities must be getting hit hard), and… wait for it… fundraisers have also been cancelled.”
“Can we help?” I asked myself.
“Yep,” I answered.
Finally, my two hemispheres began to align. Battle Kings (the game I made in 2013 in case you aren’t keeping up) can be converted into a print and play version that can encourage families to get crafty with creating the pieces (and building the anticipation of playing). Then, I can sell it online and give the money to a local non-profit, the one I’ve been volunteering with for six years would do nicely, they do a lot of stuff in Pinellas County (where I live).
“But,” I asked myself once more,” What about the folks who can’t afford the $10, or they want to save every penny for potential future loss of income? What about the people who really don’t care about the awesome things happening at the Florida Dream Center? What about them? Huh? Huh?”
Man, I’m pushy.
“Make videos then, tell everyone how to play your game, regardless of their money situation. If they have internet, they can follow some quick tutorials and viola! Everyone has access to a new game.”
So, I says, “I am not very photogenisis… err, photorealisis… uh… (after a brief Google search) photogenic.”
“You’ll do fine!” I’m a decent motivator, I guess, because it worked on me. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
When the game is finished being converted to print and play, I am going to publish it for $10 on my website (www.ajopresents.com... uh... you're here already). $7.50 of each sale will go to the Florida Dream Center (www.floridadreamcenter.org) to help keep their doors open to continue their mission helping the poor, under-served, homeless and jobless. The other $2.50 will go to paying Paypal transaction fees and taxes.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I patted myself on the back.
“Don’t touch me!” I scolded myself, “social distancing man, social distancing.”
~AJ O'Connell
© 2020, AJO Presents. All rights reserved.