5 Minutes
216 Words
39 Words Per Minute
The altar was unremarkable, considering its purpose. It was plain stone, joined to and rising from the ground in front of the deep, dark hole in the vertical mountainside.
Five figures huddled against the cold winter wind. The gusts howled through the mountain hollow, across the scattered scree and rocks, and cut through their fur. The material's weight did little to actually keep the chill out, but that was the norm for early winter up in Ranvald's Range.
The hole ahead of the altar seemed to moan in the wind.
Shuffling footsteps heralded the approach of the final member of their group, a wizened old woman standing straight against the scything wind. If any of the other members present felt any less before her, they didn't show it.
With a nod she entered the circle and approached the altar. Atop it she laid a needle-coated bundle of branches, tied loosely with a goat-gut cord.
"Lord of the Mountains," the woman intoned. Her voice rang out clear, despite her apparent age. The branches rested in the slight depression in the surface of the square-cornered altar.
"Lord of the Mountains," the others echoed. In sequence, each presented their own offering and placed it on the stone next to the branches.
In the empty darkness before the hole, something stirred.
Monday, March 28, 2016
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Table-Top RPG Design 02: Basic Mechanics
In this post I'm going to develop a rough-shod mechanic for Mercs (working title).
At the heart of the RPG, and really any game, is the Engine. It's the equivalent of the programming language or chord progression for the game, in that it not only determines what is allowed, but how the players can accomplish it. It's the thematic backbone for how the game feels when you play it, and the mechanic easily makes or breaks the game.
Generally an RPG system consists of some sort of quantified character ability, represented by attributes, stats, skills, or something similar. The classic stat array is the D&D Six: Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma, where every 2 points above a 10 gives you +1 on your d20 roll. I'm not making a D&D clone, so I'm not going to use those.
In recent years with the boom in self-published/indie RPGs there's been a huge variety of systems created, which run from a classic Skill+Stat combination, to drawing cards from a deck, to betting dice like you're playing poker.
Here's some examples of some systems and how they help deliver their respective tone:
Savage Worlds: In Savage Worlds each Skill is rated as a die, from a d4 to the d12. A player succeeds when they roll a 4 or higher, with additional successes (called Raises) on every 4 above that (8, 12, etc). In addition, the player rolls a Wild Die, which is always a d6 and allows each player the same chance of succeeding on a skill, no matter their actual skill rating. Because Savage Worlds is all about playing big, flashy, pulp-adventure-style heroes, this lets even the less-capable characters get their shining moment and delivers fairly consistent action-moments.
Apocalypse World: Apocalypse World has an unusual system where every action is accomplished by performing a Move, each of which is tied to a certain stat. The player rolls 2d6 and adds the relevant Stat to their roll, and depending on the result there's a different effect (failure is 6 or under, partial success is 7-9, and 10+ is a full success). This accomplishes several things: it means the GM never has to roll dice, as the players make all the decisions, which helps emphasize the book's assertion that the PCs are unique in their agency. It also lets the story advance during failures, which is a problem with several other systems where a failure means that player/story momentum falters for a moment.
Eclipse Phase: Eclipse Phase uses a fairly standard d% system, where you roll a d100 or, more commonly, 2d10 and read the result as a percentage, and rolling underneath your Stat is a success. Whenever I describe it to someone I call it a Price-is-Right system, because the higher you roll, the better you do...as long as you don't go over your Stat. In a setting where PC competence is assumed, but lethality is still a major theme, it makes you feel like you're always pulling by by the skin of your teeth, even when you get a particularly good roll.
Dogs in the Vineyard: In a game where you play Mormon-Jedi in an Alternate-History Wild West, you have pools of Stats (Heart, Acuity, Will, and Body), Relationship dice, and Item dice. You build a dice pool depending on the conflict, roll them, and put them forward in an effort to out-perform your opponent. It rewards tactical dice use and turns conflict into a back-and-forth game where the chance for escalation can produce real consequences. Bringing a gun into the conflict, for example, can increase your chances of winning an argument, but the potential for grave injury also increases, whether you want it to or not.
I'm going to choose to use a d% system, for a number of reasons:
1. It's simple. You only really need 2 dice, it's easy to read the results, and changes to the actual numbers don't make calculating your odds of success/failure any more difficult than it was before. Did you have a 40% chance to succeed, but got a +13 bonus? Now you have a 53% chance to succeed. Easy.
2. Going off of the above, it gives you a consistent, definite spread of results with a fair amount of modification for difficulty. Unlike using a 3d6 bell curve where a +1 bonus is significant, using d% lets you have a little more fun with number fiddling.
3. It's fairly granular. One thing I like about d% systems is that you can pull three results from a single skill test: the overall score (43), the tens-die (4) and the ones-die (3). This lets you tie certain fun things to individual dice, like Initiative, Damage, or some other side-rule.
Infrastructure
Mercs is going to have two methods of quantifying character ability: Skills and Drives.
Skills are going to be pretty basic: a spread of Actions the characters can take, and how proficient they are in that action. When a character tries something where failure will have an effect on the story/action, she'll roll d% and try to roll underneath the skill. Arbitrarily, I'm going to aim for a spread of 20 (minimum) to 75 (maximum) to give a good range from novice to proficient.
Drives are going to be mechanical and role-play motivations for the characters. Because mercenaries in stories are usually motivated individuals who enter the field for money, revenge, or just desperation, I'm going to try and work that in. The best way I can think of doing that right now is to have a number of basic drives (money, self-defense, discovery, etc) which give a static bonus if it's the prime motivator behind the character's action. Again, arbitrarily, I think Drives should range between 1 and 15, giving a minimum character skill of 21 and a maximum of 90. I think preserving a 10% chance of failure no matter what lends the game a sense of danger, even for highly capable characters.
In Summary
To take an action, a character chooses the motivating Drive and relevant Skill. She adds them together and rolls d%. If she rolls underneath that combined total, awesome, she succeeds. If she rolls over, she fails.
Next Time
I get nitty-gritty with the Skills and Drives, and maybe work out some sort of Difficulty mechanic.
At the heart of the RPG, and really any game, is the Engine. It's the equivalent of the programming language or chord progression for the game, in that it not only determines what is allowed, but how the players can accomplish it. It's the thematic backbone for how the game feels when you play it, and the mechanic easily makes or breaks the game.
Generally an RPG system consists of some sort of quantified character ability, represented by attributes, stats, skills, or something similar. The classic stat array is the D&D Six: Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma, where every 2 points above a 10 gives you +1 on your d20 roll. I'm not making a D&D clone, so I'm not going to use those.
In recent years with the boom in self-published/indie RPGs there's been a huge variety of systems created, which run from a classic Skill+Stat combination, to drawing cards from a deck, to betting dice like you're playing poker.
Here's some examples of some systems and how they help deliver their respective tone:
Savage Worlds: In Savage Worlds each Skill is rated as a die, from a d4 to the d12. A player succeeds when they roll a 4 or higher, with additional successes (called Raises) on every 4 above that (8, 12, etc). In addition, the player rolls a Wild Die, which is always a d6 and allows each player the same chance of succeeding on a skill, no matter their actual skill rating. Because Savage Worlds is all about playing big, flashy, pulp-adventure-style heroes, this lets even the less-capable characters get their shining moment and delivers fairly consistent action-moments.
Apocalypse World: Apocalypse World has an unusual system where every action is accomplished by performing a Move, each of which is tied to a certain stat. The player rolls 2d6 and adds the relevant Stat to their roll, and depending on the result there's a different effect (failure is 6 or under, partial success is 7-9, and 10+ is a full success). This accomplishes several things: it means the GM never has to roll dice, as the players make all the decisions, which helps emphasize the book's assertion that the PCs are unique in their agency. It also lets the story advance during failures, which is a problem with several other systems where a failure means that player/story momentum falters for a moment.
Eclipse Phase: Eclipse Phase uses a fairly standard d% system, where you roll a d100 or, more commonly, 2d10 and read the result as a percentage, and rolling underneath your Stat is a success. Whenever I describe it to someone I call it a Price-is-Right system, because the higher you roll, the better you do...as long as you don't go over your Stat. In a setting where PC competence is assumed, but lethality is still a major theme, it makes you feel like you're always pulling by by the skin of your teeth, even when you get a particularly good roll.
Dogs in the Vineyard: In a game where you play Mormon-Jedi in an Alternate-History Wild West, you have pools of Stats (Heart, Acuity, Will, and Body), Relationship dice, and Item dice. You build a dice pool depending on the conflict, roll them, and put them forward in an effort to out-perform your opponent. It rewards tactical dice use and turns conflict into a back-and-forth game where the chance for escalation can produce real consequences. Bringing a gun into the conflict, for example, can increase your chances of winning an argument, but the potential for grave injury also increases, whether you want it to or not.
I'm going to choose to use a d% system, for a number of reasons:
1. It's simple. You only really need 2 dice, it's easy to read the results, and changes to the actual numbers don't make calculating your odds of success/failure any more difficult than it was before. Did you have a 40% chance to succeed, but got a +13 bonus? Now you have a 53% chance to succeed. Easy.
2. Going off of the above, it gives you a consistent, definite spread of results with a fair amount of modification for difficulty. Unlike using a 3d6 bell curve where a +1 bonus is significant, using d% lets you have a little more fun with number fiddling.
3. It's fairly granular. One thing I like about d% systems is that you can pull three results from a single skill test: the overall score (43), the tens-die (4) and the ones-die (3). This lets you tie certain fun things to individual dice, like Initiative, Damage, or some other side-rule.
Infrastructure
Mercs is going to have two methods of quantifying character ability: Skills and Drives.
Skills are going to be pretty basic: a spread of Actions the characters can take, and how proficient they are in that action. When a character tries something where failure will have an effect on the story/action, she'll roll d% and try to roll underneath the skill. Arbitrarily, I'm going to aim for a spread of 20 (minimum) to 75 (maximum) to give a good range from novice to proficient.
Drives are going to be mechanical and role-play motivations for the characters. Because mercenaries in stories are usually motivated individuals who enter the field for money, revenge, or just desperation, I'm going to try and work that in. The best way I can think of doing that right now is to have a number of basic drives (money, self-defense, discovery, etc) which give a static bonus if it's the prime motivator behind the character's action. Again, arbitrarily, I think Drives should range between 1 and 15, giving a minimum character skill of 21 and a maximum of 90. I think preserving a 10% chance of failure no matter what lends the game a sense of danger, even for highly capable characters.
In Summary
To take an action, a character chooses the motivating Drive and relevant Skill. She adds them together and rolls d%. If she rolls underneath that combined total, awesome, she succeeds. If she rolls over, she fails.
Next Time
I get nitty-gritty with the Skills and Drives, and maybe work out some sort of Difficulty mechanic.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Table-Top RPG Design 01: Basic Ideas
I'm a deep nerd, and one of my favorite hobbies is table-top gaming. Whether it's board games, role-playing games, card games, whatever, I've probable at least looked into it as a potential hobby. And because I'm not content to just find stuff, I like to make stuff as well.
So here's a little mini-project I'm going to work on, because I don't have enough irons in the fire:
So here's a little mini-project I'm going to work on, because I don't have enough irons in the fire:
Unnamed Mercenary Company Role-Playing Game
Basically what I'm going to do is this: I'm going to design a role-playing game from the ground up and post periodic status updates here. Because I spam people enough with this blog, I don't think this will be a very regular thing, but the goal is to eventually have a playable RPG.
To start off: Why?
One of the questions that fledgling game designers face is why bother to develop a TTRPG (table-top role-playing game) when there are so many out there already. The hobby is currently undergoing something of a renaissance, with both old-school systems which aim to bring back and improve the golden-age AD&D-style games (Dungeon World) and new-school systems which challenge the basis of what makes a role-playing game a role-playing game (anything by Vincent Baker, primarily the Powered by the Apocalypse series of games).
What I'm aiming to do is:
Create a new-school TTRPG which focuses on playing a group of characters, as opposed to a single party of adventurers (without going too far into deconstructing the genre) while capturing the feel of the Mercenary-company genre embodied by Glen Cook's Black Company and Steven Erikson's Malazan Book of the Fallen, among others.
How I plan on accomplishing his:
1. Develop a system where players are incentivized to play multiple members of a larger group of characters, perhaps on a rotating basis.
2. Capture the feeling of playing characters who have to work together, both against the world and their own baser instincts, to make their way in a world that does them no favors.
3. Make the system interesting enough for experienced gamers, while still accessible enough for newer players to pick up and play without much trouble.
To acknowledge some systems which come close to fulfilling these goals:
Reign
Based on allowing the players to run a Company, Reign gives players the tools needed to run a group of like-minded characters in making their way in the world. I love the system, but one thing I plan on doing differently is allowing the party to play multiple characters within the Company and have their other guys do stuff off-screen to further their agendas.
What Reign Doesn't Do That I Want to Do:
Reign has some good rules for managing your Company, but I'm looking more for a system which builds a Mercenary network, as opposed to a group which runs a network. One way I think I can carry this out is to develop a base-building section of the game which is a bit more in-depth than Reign's basic stat system.
Apocalypse World
While not necessarily completely based on the idea, Vincent Baker's Apocalypse World allows the players to run Hardholds, which are essentially outposts struggling against the generic apocalypse. The rules are fairly vague, so one difference is that I'm hoping to develop a system which allows for a more in-depth development of a mercenary group which will interact with the world at large.
What Apocalypse World Doesn't Do That I Want to Do:
I really like Apocalypse World in theory, but unfortunately I haven't played it. It's a game heavily focused on the narrative, which is fine, but I'm a fan of fiddly, in-depth management mechanics. I'm hoping to maintain a balance between mechanics which allow some true customization of a location, while also allowing the players some narrative freedom in running a group of people.
Swords Without Master
Swords Without Master is all about playing Conan-style heroes in a Hyboria-style world, which may not seem like there's much of a cross-over, but it's definitely an inspiration. Another game I haven't played but one I've read through extensively, it's another new-school game where the mechanics are heavily based on creating a collaborative story and emphasize that. I admire that, but it might be a little too esoteric for a group of new players, which tend to be the type of people I play with (and there's nothing wrong with that).
What Swords Without Master Doesn't Do That I Want to Do:
Swords Without Master is an excellent example of how mechanics can enforce a game's intended tone, and that's cool...but I think it might go a little too far. I'd like to try and take some inspiration from how players are rewarded for role-playing the dice results, but make it a little easier to grasp.
Next Time:
Attempting to develop a dice mechanic which captures the tone I'm aiming for. Let's see if that's a possibility.
One of the questions that fledgling game designers face is why bother to develop a TTRPG (table-top role-playing game) when there are so many out there already. The hobby is currently undergoing something of a renaissance, with both old-school systems which aim to bring back and improve the golden-age AD&D-style games (Dungeon World) and new-school systems which challenge the basis of what makes a role-playing game a role-playing game (anything by Vincent Baker, primarily the Powered by the Apocalypse series of games).
What I'm aiming to do is:
Create a new-school TTRPG which focuses on playing a group of characters, as opposed to a single party of adventurers (without going too far into deconstructing the genre) while capturing the feel of the Mercenary-company genre embodied by Glen Cook's Black Company and Steven Erikson's Malazan Book of the Fallen, among others.
How I plan on accomplishing his:
1. Develop a system where players are incentivized to play multiple members of a larger group of characters, perhaps on a rotating basis.
2. Capture the feeling of playing characters who have to work together, both against the world and their own baser instincts, to make their way in a world that does them no favors.
3. Make the system interesting enough for experienced gamers, while still accessible enough for newer players to pick up and play without much trouble.
To acknowledge some systems which come close to fulfilling these goals:
Reign
Based on allowing the players to run a Company, Reign gives players the tools needed to run a group of like-minded characters in making their way in the world. I love the system, but one thing I plan on doing differently is allowing the party to play multiple characters within the Company and have their other guys do stuff off-screen to further their agendas.
What Reign Doesn't Do That I Want to Do:
Reign has some good rules for managing your Company, but I'm looking more for a system which builds a Mercenary network, as opposed to a group which runs a network. One way I think I can carry this out is to develop a base-building section of the game which is a bit more in-depth than Reign's basic stat system.
Apocalypse World
While not necessarily completely based on the idea, Vincent Baker's Apocalypse World allows the players to run Hardholds, which are essentially outposts struggling against the generic apocalypse. The rules are fairly vague, so one difference is that I'm hoping to develop a system which allows for a more in-depth development of a mercenary group which will interact with the world at large.
What Apocalypse World Doesn't Do That I Want to Do:
I really like Apocalypse World in theory, but unfortunately I haven't played it. It's a game heavily focused on the narrative, which is fine, but I'm a fan of fiddly, in-depth management mechanics. I'm hoping to maintain a balance between mechanics which allow some true customization of a location, while also allowing the players some narrative freedom in running a group of people.
Swords Without Master
Swords Without Master is all about playing Conan-style heroes in a Hyboria-style world, which may not seem like there's much of a cross-over, but it's definitely an inspiration. Another game I haven't played but one I've read through extensively, it's another new-school game where the mechanics are heavily based on creating a collaborative story and emphasize that. I admire that, but it might be a little too esoteric for a group of new players, which tend to be the type of people I play with (and there's nothing wrong with that).
What Swords Without Master Doesn't Do That I Want to Do:
Swords Without Master is an excellent example of how mechanics can enforce a game's intended tone, and that's cool...but I think it might go a little too far. I'd like to try and take some inspiration from how players are rewarded for role-playing the dice results, but make it a little easier to grasp.
Next Time:
Attempting to develop a dice mechanic which captures the tone I'm aiming for. Let's see if that's a possibility.
Friday, March 11, 2016
Writing Exercise: Yoxen Drive
Decided to do a 20 Minute Exercise again. I've found that if I at least have an idea of what I want to cover I can plunk down something I'm not too ashamed of when it's over. While I'm definitely not writing great American literature, it seems that this helps me solidify a tone and some content for the world I'm writing my main project in.
I'm also trying to move away from short pieces where the main conflict relies on an explosion of violence. It's limiting, and some of the best advice I've received is to step outside of my comfort zone.
Again, this is unedited, unrevised, and written in one long stretch. If you have any comments, critiques, or anything else feel free to leave it, but don't feel obligated.
20 Minutes
952 Words
~46 WPM
Suster nudged the boss with his boot. "Hey, time to wake."
The man didn't respond, and Suster tapped him again, harder this time. "It's near sunrise, we're wasting time."
Nothing, still.
A sinking feeling took up a spot in his chest. If the boss had died somehow on the trail they likely wouldn't see any payment for the job at all. The man bent low and shook him by the shoulder. "Boss?"
The man turned over, and the telltale green smudge under his nose showed he wasn't dead, simply a victim of his own addiction.
Anger replaced Suster's concern. "Hey!" he said, louder this time. "You son of a bitch, wake up!"
Miristal approached from nearby. "What's the problem, Sus?" He had difficulty hearing her over the lowing calls of the yoxen grazing nearby.
"The bastard's gone and dipped into his Wax," Suster said, motioning down at the prostrate form.
The taller woman sighed and rested both hands on her hips. In the growing light she looked more disappointed than angry. "Well, drag him to his feet, we'll need to prop him up somehow."
"What's all this?" a third voice asked from nearby. The creak of wagon wheels came from nearby and the drive's quartermaster, Leophan, led the wagon their way. "Did old Eckham finally sink to the Depths?"
"We're not so fortunate," Suster said. He reached down to the man, gripped him under the arms, and hoisted him to a sitting position. The boss groaned, and Suster used a gloved hand to remove the pale green substance from under his nose. "No, it seems our esteemed benefactor has finally succumbed to boredom."
Leophan laughed from his bench. "Ah, yes. Well it was only a matter of time, I guess. It's been, what, over a month on the trail?"
Suster clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. They'd been on the yoxen trail for just a little over a month, leading almost twelve-hundred heads of yoxen from the farms at Crowntown across the Volbrugg provinces to Borderpost, where they'd fetch a far better price than anywhere else within reasonable distance. The scrubland was unbroken monotony, disrupted only by the occasional copse of stunted tree or rocky outcropping.
When Suster had taken the contract he hadn't recognized the name at the header, just the promise of 350 marcs paid on successful delivery. The landscape was in the vast expanse of the Volbrugg furthest from the bickering Lord-Governors towards the center of the region, meaning the only troubles they might encounter would have been brigands or the odd raiding party coming north from Deindall.
So far the only problems had been from their boss himself. He hauled Eckham to his feet, with some help from Miristal, as the man's girth was not insubstantial. "Come on, you old fuck," he muttered, "Time to close this contract so I never have to see you again."
More hoofbeats heralded the approach of the tailguard, and four other mounted contractmen approached. "Are we setting out or having a festival?" one of them asked. Suster hadn't bothered to learn their names; the tailguard were the ones willing to take the cheap work, and weren't usually the type to socialize on the trail.
"Aye, but it seems our dear boss spent a night with your mother, Otmund," Leophan said.
The tailguard's face grew redder than usual inthe morning light, but he said nothing.
"We're setting out soon," Suster said. He lightly patted the boss's face with his hand. "Wake up, you useless sack," he muttered. "You won't be losing me this contract, you hear me?"
The boss's eyelids flickered before they shot open, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes crazed on Wax. "You will not touch me again!" the man roared, and in a flurry of movement he lashed out against the pair holding him up.
Suster relinquished his grip on the man's arms at the same time as Mirival, and the boss fell to his knees in a heap before struggling again to his feet.
"How dare you!" the man shouted, smoothing out his coat, and patting the dust from the cloth. "Handling me as such is a clear breach of your contract..." the man's anger trailed off as he realized that most of the crew was in witness to his embarrassment, and he quieted, red-faced. "We leave with all due haste."
Suster didn't say anything, but the gaze he exchanged with Mirival said all he needed. The yoxen lowed again in the distance, and the sound seemed all the boss needed to move him towards action.
Twenty-one days had been long enough, Suster thought as he took to his saddle again. The horse he'd been granted for the job was an old, bitter-tempered beast with a nasty habit of biting at his fingers when he readied it for the trail, so he'd taken to leaving most of the animal's gear hanging from its neck overnight.
The remainder of the day was uneventful, for a yoxen drive. The harvest season had seen thicker than usual rainfall, and the final creekbed needing crossing had been higher than expected. Suster had nearly been swept down-river when his horse reared halfway across, but thanks to Leophan and his wagon he'd managed to calm the animal and successfully drive the heard of yoxen across.
Towards mid-day the Old Spire at the center of Borderpost came into view in the distance, though Suster knew it would still be close to dusk by the time they approached the city. To the south the mists which clung to the surface of the Madlands made the horizon a haze, and what little conversation there had been dried up.
That was fine, in Suster's opinion. Other than the occasional midnight dalliance enjoyed between he and Mirival, there really wasn't anyone else in the crew he had any interest in ever seeing again.
I'm also trying to move away from short pieces where the main conflict relies on an explosion of violence. It's limiting, and some of the best advice I've received is to step outside of my comfort zone.
Again, this is unedited, unrevised, and written in one long stretch. If you have any comments, critiques, or anything else feel free to leave it, but don't feel obligated.
20 Minutes
952 Words
~46 WPM
Suster nudged the boss with his boot. "Hey, time to wake."
The man didn't respond, and Suster tapped him again, harder this time. "It's near sunrise, we're wasting time."
Nothing, still.
A sinking feeling took up a spot in his chest. If the boss had died somehow on the trail they likely wouldn't see any payment for the job at all. The man bent low and shook him by the shoulder. "Boss?"
The man turned over, and the telltale green smudge under his nose showed he wasn't dead, simply a victim of his own addiction.
Anger replaced Suster's concern. "Hey!" he said, louder this time. "You son of a bitch, wake up!"
Miristal approached from nearby. "What's the problem, Sus?" He had difficulty hearing her over the lowing calls of the yoxen grazing nearby.
"The bastard's gone and dipped into his Wax," Suster said, motioning down at the prostrate form.
The taller woman sighed and rested both hands on her hips. In the growing light she looked more disappointed than angry. "Well, drag him to his feet, we'll need to prop him up somehow."
"What's all this?" a third voice asked from nearby. The creak of wagon wheels came from nearby and the drive's quartermaster, Leophan, led the wagon their way. "Did old Eckham finally sink to the Depths?"
"We're not so fortunate," Suster said. He reached down to the man, gripped him under the arms, and hoisted him to a sitting position. The boss groaned, and Suster used a gloved hand to remove the pale green substance from under his nose. "No, it seems our esteemed benefactor has finally succumbed to boredom."
Leophan laughed from his bench. "Ah, yes. Well it was only a matter of time, I guess. It's been, what, over a month on the trail?"
Suster clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. They'd been on the yoxen trail for just a little over a month, leading almost twelve-hundred heads of yoxen from the farms at Crowntown across the Volbrugg provinces to Borderpost, where they'd fetch a far better price than anywhere else within reasonable distance. The scrubland was unbroken monotony, disrupted only by the occasional copse of stunted tree or rocky outcropping.
When Suster had taken the contract he hadn't recognized the name at the header, just the promise of 350 marcs paid on successful delivery. The landscape was in the vast expanse of the Volbrugg furthest from the bickering Lord-Governors towards the center of the region, meaning the only troubles they might encounter would have been brigands or the odd raiding party coming north from Deindall.
So far the only problems had been from their boss himself. He hauled Eckham to his feet, with some help from Miristal, as the man's girth was not insubstantial. "Come on, you old fuck," he muttered, "Time to close this contract so I never have to see you again."
More hoofbeats heralded the approach of the tailguard, and four other mounted contractmen approached. "Are we setting out or having a festival?" one of them asked. Suster hadn't bothered to learn their names; the tailguard were the ones willing to take the cheap work, and weren't usually the type to socialize on the trail.
"Aye, but it seems our dear boss spent a night with your mother, Otmund," Leophan said.
The tailguard's face grew redder than usual inthe morning light, but he said nothing.
"We're setting out soon," Suster said. He lightly patted the boss's face with his hand. "Wake up, you useless sack," he muttered. "You won't be losing me this contract, you hear me?"
The boss's eyelids flickered before they shot open, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes crazed on Wax. "You will not touch me again!" the man roared, and in a flurry of movement he lashed out against the pair holding him up.
Suster relinquished his grip on the man's arms at the same time as Mirival, and the boss fell to his knees in a heap before struggling again to his feet.
"How dare you!" the man shouted, smoothing out his coat, and patting the dust from the cloth. "Handling me as such is a clear breach of your contract..." the man's anger trailed off as he realized that most of the crew was in witness to his embarrassment, and he quieted, red-faced. "We leave with all due haste."
Suster didn't say anything, but the gaze he exchanged with Mirival said all he needed. The yoxen lowed again in the distance, and the sound seemed all the boss needed to move him towards action.
Twenty-one days had been long enough, Suster thought as he took to his saddle again. The horse he'd been granted for the job was an old, bitter-tempered beast with a nasty habit of biting at his fingers when he readied it for the trail, so he'd taken to leaving most of the animal's gear hanging from its neck overnight.
The remainder of the day was uneventful, for a yoxen drive. The harvest season had seen thicker than usual rainfall, and the final creekbed needing crossing had been higher than expected. Suster had nearly been swept down-river when his horse reared halfway across, but thanks to Leophan and his wagon he'd managed to calm the animal and successfully drive the heard of yoxen across.
Towards mid-day the Old Spire at the center of Borderpost came into view in the distance, though Suster knew it would still be close to dusk by the time they approached the city. To the south the mists which clung to the surface of the Madlands made the horizon a haze, and what little conversation there had been dried up.
That was fine, in Suster's opinion. Other than the occasional midnight dalliance enjoyed between he and Mirival, there really wasn't anyone else in the crew he had any interest in ever seeing again.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Writing Exercise: Bath-House Thieves
So there's this fun website/app called The Most Dangerous Writing App where you choose a time limit and if you stop for...I think 5 seconds or so, it erases your progress. I've played with it a little bit, and I like it for writing exercises, flash fiction, etc. So in an effort to develop some sort of public expectation/presence, here's what I wrote over the course of 20 minutes. It's unedited, unrevised, and not very good, but practice is practice and putting this stuff out there is the only way to improve.
By all means, feel free to provide criticism, comments, or whatever else.
20 Minutes
986 Words
48 WPM
Pashand sat on the roof of the bath-house overlooking the back alleyway leading towards one of the main thoroughfaires. The thieves supposedly came this way every night, using one of the upper windows to enter the building and make off with the day's take. His client was paying handsomely to follow them to wherever they went to ground and make sure the Hatchets would be able to find the spot and clear it out the next day.
It wasn't his usual type of contract, thief-busting, but the Shemant family paid far better than most other clients on the market, and there wasn't too much work in Vedergost for a man from the north.
The night was warm, far warmer than he was used to. Further to the north, in Gelalus, they caught the warm sea wind from the west, but here it was just hot. Pashand had left his coat in his room back at the boarding home and had taken just a thin linen shirt and trousers, alongside his knife and other gear. He'd purchased an iron climbing hook from a vendor the day before and a length of silk rope which had helped him reach the bath-house roof, but he hadn't planned on needing anything else. This was a simple job. All he needed to do was follow along.
Pashand looked up and made eye contact with a group of dark-clad figures on the opposite roof. They sat in a similar fashion, with legs dangling over the side of the building, heedless of the drop just below them.
One of the figures waved.
Pashand responded, more from habit than anything else.
Were these the thieves? Had he really been that distracted that they'd appeared just across the way without him noticing?
Footsteps sounded behind him and once again he cursed the heat that had dulled his senses.
"Don't turn yourself, or we'll give you a good shove," a voice said. It sounded like it belonged to a woman to Pashand's ears, but Vederesti accents made it hard to tell. Their language depended on pitch, which seemed needlessly confusing to the northman.
"No worries there," Pashand said, raising one hand off where he'd braced himself to show he held no metal. "I've no desire to see if I can fly."
"I don't doubt it," the voice said again. Closer, now, close enough that Pashand was fairly certain it was female. "I'm going to have to ask you turn over any sort of letters of note on your person."
"I don't have any," Pashand lied. He held his Document of Citizenship with the Gerneschmenk Empire, though it wouldn't mean much this far south, aside from delivering them his name. "And I don't carry coin on my person anymore."
"Any hidden metal?" the voice asked again. Closer still. The group of thieves across the way had stood now, and he counted three of them. The contract listed half a dozen potential targets, meaning the crew had split themselves to cover the property.
Pashand shook his head. "Just the climbing spike, but that's on the lip of the roof at the alleyway off Notary Lane."
A single pair of footsteps went off in that direction, but the sense of lurking presence diminished only partially. Most likely there were two of the crew behind him. If they were good at all at their work one of them would have a hand-bow trained at his back while the other one stepped close enough to interrogate him without the sound carrying to the street blow.
Pashand looked over the lip of the roof towards the street down below. Gendikan had a thriving night-life, and the bath-house was flanked on three sides by a green city park. The pathways through the greenery were lit with dimly flickering gas lamps in various colors and shades, giving the entire place a festive mood. From his height he could just make out citizens wandering the paths.
"It was there, like he said," the footsteps were preceded by another voice. "What are we going to do with him, Ashoshko?"
The name was almost cut short by the unmistakable sound of a hand striking cheek. "Idiot," the first voice muttered. "We leave him up here by himself."
"I appreciate it," Pashand said. He meant it, too. It seemed even in the south there was courtesy between professionals. "Though that climbing spike cost me fair coin. I'd rather you let me keep it."
The first voice, Ashoshko, grunted in approval. Metal clanged against the rooftop somewhere behind him. "Can't fault you that. We're all only trying to make an honest living, eh?" A chuckle.
Pashand returned it. "True enough."
The three thieves across the way had vanished from sight somewhere among the crowded rooftop. He waited for a few moments in case the folk behind him meant to continue, but no sound came. The young man took the chance to turn, and he wasn't surprised to find the rooftop empty, excepting himself.
It took him only a moment to find the climbing spike towards the center of the bath-house roof. His clients would be disappointed he hadn't apprehended the thieves, but he counted it as a victory that he only needed to descend the roof after being so effectively outplayed.
Six of them, he thought as he approached the lip of the building. Vederesti roof-tops were slightly sloped towards the edges, with overhangs which turned up slightly. It made finding a path downwards difficult, but Pashand had spent his childhood scrabbling up and down the cliffs near Crowntown; climbing man-made walls was nearly as simple as walking down an empty street for him.
He received a number of strange looks from night-time citizens as he let himself fall the last ten feet or so to the stone-shod streets. The front of his shirt had been ripped in a a few places on the descent, but he'd only been overcharged a few marks for the clothing.
And he had a name. There were people in this city who could work wonders with that alone.
By all means, feel free to provide criticism, comments, or whatever else.
20 Minutes
986 Words
48 WPM
Pashand sat on the roof of the bath-house overlooking the back alleyway leading towards one of the main thoroughfaires. The thieves supposedly came this way every night, using one of the upper windows to enter the building and make off with the day's take. His client was paying handsomely to follow them to wherever they went to ground and make sure the Hatchets would be able to find the spot and clear it out the next day.
It wasn't his usual type of contract, thief-busting, but the Shemant family paid far better than most other clients on the market, and there wasn't too much work in Vedergost for a man from the north.
The night was warm, far warmer than he was used to. Further to the north, in Gelalus, they caught the warm sea wind from the west, but here it was just hot. Pashand had left his coat in his room back at the boarding home and had taken just a thin linen shirt and trousers, alongside his knife and other gear. He'd purchased an iron climbing hook from a vendor the day before and a length of silk rope which had helped him reach the bath-house roof, but he hadn't planned on needing anything else. This was a simple job. All he needed to do was follow along.
Pashand looked up and made eye contact with a group of dark-clad figures on the opposite roof. They sat in a similar fashion, with legs dangling over the side of the building, heedless of the drop just below them.
One of the figures waved.
Pashand responded, more from habit than anything else.
Were these the thieves? Had he really been that distracted that they'd appeared just across the way without him noticing?
Footsteps sounded behind him and once again he cursed the heat that had dulled his senses.
"Don't turn yourself, or we'll give you a good shove," a voice said. It sounded like it belonged to a woman to Pashand's ears, but Vederesti accents made it hard to tell. Their language depended on pitch, which seemed needlessly confusing to the northman.
"No worries there," Pashand said, raising one hand off where he'd braced himself to show he held no metal. "I've no desire to see if I can fly."
"I don't doubt it," the voice said again. Closer, now, close enough that Pashand was fairly certain it was female. "I'm going to have to ask you turn over any sort of letters of note on your person."
"I don't have any," Pashand lied. He held his Document of Citizenship with the Gerneschmenk Empire, though it wouldn't mean much this far south, aside from delivering them his name. "And I don't carry coin on my person anymore."
"Any hidden metal?" the voice asked again. Closer still. The group of thieves across the way had stood now, and he counted three of them. The contract listed half a dozen potential targets, meaning the crew had split themselves to cover the property.
Pashand shook his head. "Just the climbing spike, but that's on the lip of the roof at the alleyway off Notary Lane."
A single pair of footsteps went off in that direction, but the sense of lurking presence diminished only partially. Most likely there were two of the crew behind him. If they were good at all at their work one of them would have a hand-bow trained at his back while the other one stepped close enough to interrogate him without the sound carrying to the street blow.
Pashand looked over the lip of the roof towards the street down below. Gendikan had a thriving night-life, and the bath-house was flanked on three sides by a green city park. The pathways through the greenery were lit with dimly flickering gas lamps in various colors and shades, giving the entire place a festive mood. From his height he could just make out citizens wandering the paths.
"It was there, like he said," the footsteps were preceded by another voice. "What are we going to do with him, Ashoshko?"
The name was almost cut short by the unmistakable sound of a hand striking cheek. "Idiot," the first voice muttered. "We leave him up here by himself."
"I appreciate it," Pashand said. He meant it, too. It seemed even in the south there was courtesy between professionals. "Though that climbing spike cost me fair coin. I'd rather you let me keep it."
The first voice, Ashoshko, grunted in approval. Metal clanged against the rooftop somewhere behind him. "Can't fault you that. We're all only trying to make an honest living, eh?" A chuckle.
Pashand returned it. "True enough."
The three thieves across the way had vanished from sight somewhere among the crowded rooftop. He waited for a few moments in case the folk behind him meant to continue, but no sound came. The young man took the chance to turn, and he wasn't surprised to find the rooftop empty, excepting himself.
It took him only a moment to find the climbing spike towards the center of the bath-house roof. His clients would be disappointed he hadn't apprehended the thieves, but he counted it as a victory that he only needed to descend the roof after being so effectively outplayed.
Six of them, he thought as he approached the lip of the building. Vederesti roof-tops were slightly sloped towards the edges, with overhangs which turned up slightly. It made finding a path downwards difficult, but Pashand had spent his childhood scrabbling up and down the cliffs near Crowntown; climbing man-made walls was nearly as simple as walking down an empty street for him.
He received a number of strange looks from night-time citizens as he let himself fall the last ten feet or so to the stone-shod streets. The front of his shirt had been ripped in a a few places on the descent, but he'd only been overcharged a few marks for the clothing.
And he had a name. There were people in this city who could work wonders with that alone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)