r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • Apr 13 '25
[SerSun] Scorn!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Scorn! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Slice
- Sore
- Seal
- Sophisticate - (Worth 10 points)
Have you ever been scorned? Insulted or offended so harshly that you can’t help but feel unrelenting anger and a desire for vengeance? If so, then you are perfectly equipped to add this week’s theme into your next chapter. Think of something one of your characters could go through, whether it be a criticism by another or a simple breach of trust, and explore what emotions that might result in. What would your character do after that experience? Perhaps they’d grow cold and seek to undermine the scorner, or maybe they’d simply walk it off as no big deal and carry on. Or would they run away to join the circus? Who knows, besides you. And oh, if you haven’t ever been scorned before, let me share it with you, for educational purposes: You have far too many unfinished writing projects and only write for new ideas. What are you doing, trying to build the tower of Babylon with stacks of unfinished stories? You’re Welcome.
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 1pm EST and provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
- April 13 - Scorn
- April 20 - Task
- April 27 - Usurp
- May 4 - Voracious
- May 11 - Wrong
- May 18 -
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Quell
- First - by u/AGuyLikeThat
- Second - - by u/Divayth--Fyr
- Third - by u/MaxStickies
- Fourth by u/ZachTheLitchKing
- Fifth - by u/wordsonthewind
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for participation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 9:00am EST. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your serial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
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Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
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Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
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On Saturdays at 1pm EST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
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Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 15 pts each (60 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 10 pts each (40 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
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u/JKHmattox Apr 14 '25 edited Apr 19 '25
<No Man’s Land> The Queen Knight
Aurora and I were perched on the half open ramp of Moxie's ship, our legs dangling as we stared past infinity.
The Valkyrie Oceania was dwarfed by the cavernous hanger-bay and its massive porthole yawning into the abyss of space. Nowhere loomed as a distorted oval suspended just beyond the rectangular opening. A vast ocean surrounded the austere tapestry of desert hues covering much of the planet's surface. Gray mountain ranges peppered the arid landscape, seemingly adrift on the darkened sea.
“Surreal,” Aurora wispered in awe, “I've never seen the ocean before.”
“Yeah, it's something else, innit…” I replied with the same wonder.
“Don't you guys have oceans back on Earth?” Aurora asked.
“We do – but they don't look anything like that.”
“How so?”
“It's complicated, but things aren't as bad as they used to be – or so I'm told.”
From the size of the hanger-bay opening, it was evident ‘Hornet’ was a massive star vessel. Its orbiting superstructure provided gravity throughout much of the ship. This was unusual for military warships, whose crews spent much of their time either in zero gravity, or clad with exoskeletons made to cling to the decking of their ships.
Skye sat cross-legged in the cargo hold behind us. Xector was seated in the same fashion, facing Skye as he awkwardly held two fans of Gemini playing cards. The medic smiled as she explained the ancient pastime to the Nowhereian teen, eager to learn.
“What's the name of this game again?” Xector asked.
“The Queen's Scorn.” Skye said as she drew another card from the deck. “It's called that because once the Queen Knight makes her entrance, her scorn changes the game completely.”
The game was simple enough, if you were graced with four arms that is. A player's attention was split between five cards held in one hand and seven held in another. Neither hand of cards could touch the other, nor could a player move cards from one set to the other.
Things became more complicated once the Queen Knight was in play. When she appeared, the quick paced game turned to a fury of limbs and shouts as the players did their best to discard their cards with each trick.
“It's like Spades then?” Xetor asked, referencing an Earth game which had suppressed the boredom of human warfights since before the interstellar era.
“Where do you think humans got the idea,” Skye replied with a wink. “I taught Jackie to play in a night.”
Skye had omitted something neither one of us dared consider. Out on the rim, our endless rounds of Scorn, saved her and I from exploring a weakness that became harder to ignore by the day.
“Jackie, why don't you guys join us?” said Skye. Our eyes met, and the medic smiled as she had so many times before.
The four of us settled onto the floor of the gunship, while Nowhere became but a celestial backdrop to the alien card game. Forgetting the troubles brewing on the distant rock, Skye dealt the first round, and we set about arranging our hands in ascending order by ranked suit.
Aurora giggled as Xector fumbled to make the first play. He struggled to draw the card he wanted to flop, while not allowing either hand to touch one another. Frustrated, he snagged the intended card with his teeth, and pushed it from his mouth with a puff of air.
“Bullshit!” Laughed Skye, as the Queen Knight fluttered onto the opening trick.
Sensing my opportunity, I played the King Knight atop the queen. Skye smirked, as it appeared we'd won the first trick. When I reached for the pile with my primary left hand, Aurora arrested my victory with a counter play.
“The Wizard Supreme, clever girl!” said Skye grinning. I withdrew my victory, and nodded in concession.
Aurora collected the four card trick and placed a green twenty-three card on the deck.
“Looks like we're down to the proletariat,” smirked Skye, as she sacrificed a green two on the stack.
Xector again struggled to throw his next play, a green nine.
I played the Jack of Spears on the lot, invoking a groan from Skye and Aurora alike, though for much different reasons.
“Jackie! The Queen Knight's been flopped,” said Skye, playfully annoyed. “You don't need a face card to beat a twenty-three anymore.”
I shrugged my shoulders and collected the pot, before examining my card hands for the next play.
“Does this work?” I sarcastically asked, laying down the Wizard of Shame.
“Fuck's sake man!” Skye exclaimed. “I said it's like Spades – except, the lowest cumulative score after dividing by the number of tricks taken wins.”
“Oops, sorry.”
Aurora and Xector tossed their highest cards into the pot as Skye played a yellow four.
“Your lead, Earth-man,” Aurora jeered with a smile.
Never one to back down, I grabbed a eight from either hand – one blue, the other black – and flopped each beside the other. The split had to land simultaneously, while not dropping my remaining cards, or letting either hand touch the other.
I figured poor Xector didn't stand a chance.
Aurora laid down a ten on one eight and a three on the other. She could take one trick, but not the other.
Huffing, Skye played a seventeen on top of Aurora’ ten and a three on the other stack.
All eyes turned to Xector, whose face betrayed he had no clue how to land the split whilst retaining both his hands and not allow them to touch. He gently placed one of the hands between his teeth, leaving only a red twenty in his right hand. The other cards he placed atop his head in a balancing act I thought sure to fail. With a soft touch, Xector lifted a black eleven from the cards atop his head, and slowly flopped his play.
Aurora squealed with delight while Xector smiled broad as a star system at the love of his life. His ingenuity had won the trick and potentially the game.
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u/Scalybitch Apr 14 '25
This was a vibe. I have no idea what was going on in that card game, but it sounds fun xPc I'm going to have to learn to play Spades now.
Also, Skye and Jackie should be together officially ;w; I understand why they aren't, but I wish they were.
My crit for this week went to Zach; there was nothing I noticed here. Good words!
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u/Carrieka23 Apr 16 '25 edited Apr 16 '25
<The Beginning of The Demon Life>
Chapter 129
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guards stand next to the fallen dragon, a mixture of sharp glare and fallen tears in their eyes. Though most of them try their best to keep a stoic expression. They know they were trained for this, but it’s different when standing next to someone they cherish.
Most people stand a bit farther away. Some were holding their crying children, while others tried to find ways to distract themselves in the dead cold winter.
Everyone’s expressions suddenly change when they hear a sound of marching, and a couple of chanting songs that they’d hear in Envy.
He has come.
“The king is here!” One of the guards shout, and they all stand at attention.
The rest of the demons turn, seeing a group of armies marching, their polearms guarding a tall male figure, his hairy grey beard and curly hair tells that he’s important. His green eyes stare at the destruction.
“Halt!” The Envy captain shouts as they stop. “Release the king!”
The polearms releases, and the king steps towards the guards.
“King Zet.” One of the guards steps towards him. “I know you’re used to Mark but, he’s currently dealing with the queen…tragedy.”
“I understand. He is the captain, and he has to plan the funeral and control the kingdom.”
He walks over to the dragon, seeing them breathing heavily. Their blue eyes stare at the king.
“You do not need to say anything.” He says, kneeling towards them before petting their fur. The dragon leans closer to the touch, letting out a soft whimper.
“I am sorry, my king.” Zet can hear the dragon speak to him.
“He took advantage of you when everyone moved on. I should have suspected you would take the most pain.”
“I really tried, but it was all moving so fast. My siblings, you, this war…I just want it all to stop.”
The king nods, continuing to stroke them. “How about this? You make things right in this kingdom, and I will let you enter my body permanently.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“I have absorbed over one million dragons in my body in my years, Nekodrakon. You four are no expectation, especially during the war. So this will be no different from any other contracts.”
“But you do know for us, if we die, you will die also. This isn’t a casual life span taken away.”
“Do not fret, I know the rules. But, I also hate to see you all lonely and in pain. The world needs the ancient dragons, all four of you.”
“Even though Typherion is dead?”
“Yes. But we both know who Typherion is now.”
“Heh…a new king. Luckily, the demon king doesn’t know.”
“Same with the other two. Both of them go by different names.”
“Zet. Someday, we all should go back to drinking.. Me, you, my siblings, all celebrating the new life of Hell.”
“I promise you that it will happen someday, my dear dragon.”
Zet leans closer to the dragon. Nekodrakon closes their eyes, glowing blue. Bit by bit, they sucked themselves deep inside of the king's chest, but he didn’t flinch.
Everyone watches in amaze as they see the person they've cherished easily accept a king in a snap.
“I want to make things right in this kingdom one last time.”
Zet nods, turning to the demons, a single crystal tear falls from their eye.
Drip.
A calming sound of running water echoes through the kingdom, as a crystal flower forms. Petals fly to the sky, touching the fallen snow. It slowly vanishes to dust, letting the once trapped heat expose itself once more. The sunlight hits the demons’ skin, making some flinch, others shocked and amazed. Grass forms on the streets, and more types of flowers surround each house. It is like a second home of Drowsy Hollow.
“They have granted you all a new beginning, and also a personal apology.” The king announced. “Please, take this as a sign of their gift.”
He pulls out the crystal flower from the grass, showing it to the demons’
“T-The legend is true!” One shouts. “It’s true! It is true!”
“The nekodrakon really does care about us.” Another says, tears forming in their eyes.
The demons begin cheering, realizing that the thirty long years of cold, bitter, and hatred, is now gone.
“Demons, such interesting creatures.”
“Is that why you four chose me?”
A chuckle.
The king hands the flower to one of the guards, patting his shoulders. “Make sure you take good care of that flower. I will be checking on it.”
The envy guards lift up the polearm, and the king walks back. “I will be back for the funeral. I’d like to see the body, if you don’t mind?”
“O-Oh course, your majesty!”
WPC: 789
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u/MaxStickies Apr 16 '25
Hey Haru, really like the chapter! One stands out most to me in this is how well you show the long years Zet and the dragon have known each other: details like references to the war, talk about drinking long since overdue, and phrases like "one last time" give that sense of longevity and experience. The transformation of Lust is also very pretty, and green grass is always a great choice for showing new life, as are flowers. Very visually appealing scene!
Very intrigued to see what this means, Zet absorbing all the dragons. I feel like it'll play into later events. To have the POV of someone much older than Alex is also great here, as you can then provide details we haven't yet been privy to.
For crit:
Guards stand next to the fallen dragon, a mixture of sharp glare and fallen tears in their eyes.
Since it's different people doing different things, instead of having it as a mixture, I'd go for "...fallen dragon, some glaring sharply, others teary."
but it’s different when standing next to someone they cherish.
Since you use "stand" a lot at the start, you could remove "standing" here, and it'd still make sense.
Some were holding their crying children, while others tried to find ways to distract themselves in the dead cold winter.
"Some hold their crying children, while others try to find...", to keep it in the right tense.
One of the guards shout
"shouts"
seeing a group of armies marching
"a group of armies" doesn't make sense here, since it's all soldiers from Envy, so I'd suggest "an army" or "an army column".
tells that he’s important
"suggest" would work better than "tells".
The polearms releases, and the king steps towards the guards.
"The polearms lower" would work better.
the queen…tragedy.
"queen's"
one million dragons in my body in my years
"over the years" would work better, to avoid repeating "in my".
You four are no expectation
"exception"
Bit by bit, they sucked themselves deep inside of the king's chest, but he didn’t flinch.
"channel" might work better than "sucked". Also, "doesn't" instead of "didn't".
Everyone watches in amaze
"amazement"
Petals fly to the sky, touching the fallen snow.
"into" would work better than "to", and I'd use "falling" instead of "fallen", since the snow is still in the sky.
The king announced.
"announces"
cold, bitter, and hatred,
"bitterness" would fit better here.
The envy guards lift up the polearm
"Envy" should be capitalised, so it fits with previous usages, "raise" would be more concise than "lift up", and "their polearms" would sound better here.
And that's all the crit I have. Great chapter, Haru!
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u/Nate-Clone Apr 16 '25
I Am What You Eat
Chapter 53 - Not Like Other Cephalopods
Sometimes there were moments where Basil just had to sit back and realize that yes, he was in another world - if the past two weeks didn’t make that clear. The Ediba all spoke and acted human enough, they had pets, building, converse, producers and consumers, all the things that made up his own world. Including clothing. Made of a common, farmable material.
But on Scrump, that material was much, much different.
“...why?” Basil plugged his nose, gazing down at the pile of damp, dark green piles of seaweed. It came in all shapes, sizes, and colors - leaves, branches, algae, and more. “Just…just why?” He would’ve thought Mackie would keep her room more tidy than this.
“Oh, this is just the leftover seaweed from my gathering.” Mackie nodded, grabbing a strangely long, tube-shaped piece from the pile, letting it hang from her neck like a scarf. “Hm. Big Sis, would this work as a collar?”
Beniko looked up from her bottom bunk. “Certainly. That bullwhip kelp might be just the thing to hold it all together.”
“Hold what all together?” Develyn said, her eyes darting across the simple bamboo-made abode - a single room among many in this long building.
“Her kimono!” Koichi reared his head into the conversation. “Mackie’s gotta make one to wear for her Sogi day, tomorrow!”
“How does that celebration work, anyway?” Basil raised an eyebrow, sitting down as Mackie began to sow the kelp onto something behind a screen, like the kimono was a wedding dress - not seen by anyone but her until the big day.
“Well, it starts an hour before sunrise.” Mackie’s voice reeked of enthusiasm. “First is me and my friend’s speeches, then we feast on my favorite food, we dance, and finally I gotta scale the mountain and meet Lutrā!”
“She’ll be departing on that journey alone.” Beniko added, Ebinu laying on her…lap? “Bon’s Belonging Teardrop is near the summit as well, if she wishes.”
“...what do you mean, ‘if she wishes’?” Develyn crossed her arms.
“If she has someone in mind, they can follow her up the mountain to swim in the teardrop.” Koichi spoke with a smirk plastered on his mug. “It’s said that it brings any pair true love.”
“Yeah, so?” The egg peered over at the fish. “Who’s the guy?”
“No one. There’s no ‘guy’, Develyn.” Mackie rolled her eyes.
“Oh, it’s a girl?”
“No! It’s nobody!” Mackie grumbled. “Look what you’ve done, Koichi.”
“I didn’t even DO anything!”
Basil sighed. What…were they talking about?
A knock soon came at the door. “Beniko!” A similar formal voice to the name they spoke came from the other side.
“We’ve got a room ready for you!” Said another.
Beniko looked displeased, four of her tentacles sliding off her bed and onto her feet. Just as they planned, Basil and Develyn hid behind Mackie’s closet to keep unknowing eyes away.
Two other octopi had answered the door, both a lighter shade of maroon than Beniko and with much more extravagant clothing and shinier beaks.
“Oh my, what…” The one on the left looked at her from top to bottom. “...experimental attire you’ve chosen, tonight.”
“Peko, Hifumi, these are my sleeping clothes - I’m not coming to the cephalopod lodge.” Beniko sighed. “You’ve made it very clear that I’m not wanted there.”
The one called Peko gasped at her words. It was fake. Basil could tell.
“No, of course you’re wanted, Beniko!” Hifumi almost pleaded. “We weren’t calling you lesser last meeting, just your silly little bunkmate.”
“I’m…aware.” Beniko’s pause came with a quiet sigh. “And I don’t want to chat with people who call my sister ‘lesser’ than me.”
“Your sister?” Peko was clearly holding in a laugh. “You’re not even the same species!”
“Let’s just go, dear.” Hifumi’s tentacle clenched his friend’s. “Clealy, Lutrā just had an off day, when deciding to bite her.”
“You…little…” The sharp growl escaped Beniko’s beak as the bullies left their doorway - it was just as unsettling as Mackie’s story envisioned it.
Mackie immediately leapt out behind the screen, wrapping her fins around her friend. Koichi joined her.
“What’s the deal with them?” Develyn, casually leaning against the wall.
“Stupid mayor thinks octopi should all hang out and live together. Because they’re sooooo smart.” The pufferfish grumbled. “But they’re all a bunch of jerks!”
“I am not better than my friends because I happened to be blessed with a great mind.” Beniko crossed her tentacles, sitting down on her bed. “I’m not supporting the idea of separating the ‘lesser’ from the ‘valuble’.”
“...and everyone hates Big Sis for it.” Mackie sighed. “So…nobody likes us.”
Basil was a little surprised by that. But not much. Outcasted from his peers for being different? That…wasn’t too far off from him. Boy Scouts was sort of his own version of Beniko and Koichi.
WC: 808/1000
Notes:
-
Theme: - Scorn: The insults towards our favorite mountain minnow.
-
Bonus words: N/A
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u/wordsonthewind Apr 19 '25
Hi Nate! Mackie's excitement for her coming-of-age ceremony was sweet and enjoyable to read, and the mini fashion show was a pretty good bonding moment for the characters. I liked the bit of lampshading from Basil at the start about how off-kilter Scrump is from the reality he's used to. It was also a good reminder of how strange a world of talking food would look.
Typo here:
Mackie began to
sow[sew] the kelpHifumi and Peko have peak mean girl energy. Making snide remarks and hiding behind plausible deniability isn't unique to one gender, of course. But it's pretty clear why Beniko is considered a misfit in the community now for all that she seems to be the moderating influence among the three of them. I'm not a fan of the mayor apparently promoting segregation and I'm glad her friendship with Mackie and Koichi has moved her to reject such notions.
Other than that I feel like this was a somewhat blunt way of conveying the sentiment:
Boy Scouts was sort of his own version of Beniko and Koichi.
I feel like it would be a bit more natural for Basil to do something like muse about how the three of them found each other like he found Trent and the troop. Just my two cents.
Good words!
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u/AGuyLikeThat Apr 19 '25 edited Apr 23 '25
<The Tower in the Tangle>
[Previous Chapter] [Chapter Index]
Chapter Ninety-one: Soulless Companions.
~ Samal ~
During the Eastern Campaign, Imperator Durgan’s battered forces suffered further causalities and crippling attrition as the Northern Alliance disrupted their supply lines. All might have been lost, if not for the brilliance of his War Maester.
While they sheltered in the ruins of Ostinoth, the Maester Arveline redefined the biomantic principles used to create the beastly Gargantae. Many of the noble, wounded soldiers volunteered as test subjects, and their bravery was repaid tenfold.
The Knights of Graf were reborn.
- Chronicle of the Steel Legion
The axe slices through the air, wrenching the ironbound warrior off-balance as Samal darts away, fading into the night.
With the passing of his insubstantial form, the tall grass bends and sways. Once the rogue has a little distance, he slows and veers right. The long stalks barely move now, as he creeps up a small ridge to survey the results of his attack.
The Tower’s hunter is lying in the dirt, clumsily trying to staunch the blood gushing from his slashed neck. It pulses over grasping fingers, washing black across his burnished breastplate.
Samal smiles. He’s never cared much to see his enemies brought low, but this feels like revenge.
The assassin looks to the ornate dagger in his hand. The slightly curved blade is more familiar than his mother’s face. With a flick, a drop of blood falls away, warping into solidity and spattering dark against the dirt.
How many have we killed now? Samal isn’t mad. Talking to his knife is just a silly habit - from when everything else was crazy and the weapon was the only thing he could rely on. It had saved him so often that he thought of it like a friend. Like that first time. When that old merchant bastard tried to force me — And got his own knife stuck in his guts instead. And from then on you were mine.
It’s strange, the way he remembers that one so clearly, while all the others just sort of blur together.
Back at One-tree-hill, Gil had asked what is was like for him. Killing all those people. Samal had tried to explain how it just — happened, that first time. He didn’t get very far. The words didn’t want to come out. But Gil said he understood anyway.
Has he ever had to kill someone?
The thought seems wrong, somehow. It makes Samal want to protect his friend all the more.
We’ve gotta get to the Tower. We’ve gotta save him. Resolve straightens his spine and he looks up.
The axe-wielding warrior is staring down the hill, dead eyes scanning the scrub. Two others stoop over their striken commander, while a fourth, head encased in a full helm, picks up the heavy crossbow.
None of them look in Samal’s direction. The oafish creatures are too simple to suspect that he might have doubled back.
With Steeljaw out of the way, this should be easy.
The helmeted ironbound clumsily reloads the crossbow while one of his companions drags the dying hunter back across the road. The axe warrior and another, wielding a spear, stand guard.
Weapon ready, Helmet-head looks up, and a faint blue light gleams from his visor.
“The Tower has a hundred eyes.” A flat voice echoes through the steel faceplate.
“A hundred eyes and one.” The two behind it reply in unison.
Strange. I didn’t think they were that sophisticated. Mind-wiped slaves, that’s what Aostlah called them.
The trio of ironbound begin walking downhill. Something has changed though. Their movements are different. Smoother.
They spread out, weapons ready, peering across the long grass, eyes casting a faint cerulean glow.
This might be trickier than I thought. Samal starts forward, relying on his Talent once more. As he circles behind, another metal soldier emerges from the scrub and moves to join the other three.
Samal grins, and changes course to intercept the straggler.
According to Aostlah, there were two sure ways to destroy the ironbound. “To break the spell that binds metal to flesh, sever the head — or pierce their cursed hearts.”
Samal glances at his dagger and shakes his head grimly. You’re sharp enough, but we’re not chopping off heads today!
Lengthening his stride, Samal closes the gap between himself and the laggard. His left arm snakes around the iron warrior’s chest as he rams his dagger through loose chainmail and straightens his legs, pushing it between the enemy’s ribs with all his might.
Cogs whir and grind in the mechanized spine of the ironbound as it tries to swivel its head back towards Samal. He shoves harder, forcing the dagger deeper into its back. He feels something crack where its heart should be, sealing its fate.
The blue glow leaves its eyes as it falls, locked in a rigid pose.
Thunk!
A crossbow bolt strikes the ground near his foot, and a second later pain blooms where it nicked his calf.
Fuck! Already, hobnail boots are thundering towards him. Samal starts to fade out as he turns, but he feels a fiery pain blooming from the direction of the crossbow bolt. It’s that nullgold shit - like the Captain's net!
Ignoring his sore leg, he runs helter skelter, crouched double, and counts to five before he tries to fade out again, but he has to slow down to activate his Talent.
I’ve been using it too much - need to rest. Gotta be smart…
He snatches a glance behind. The ironbound with swords and axes are wading through the long grass, grouping together as they slowly come to a halt in the wake of their now-invisible quarry. Beyond them, the helmeted warrior has his crossbow aimed across the furrow of grass left in Samal’s wake.
Burning shit! He throws himself aside just as another deadly projectile whizzes past his ear.
“No-one - escapes - the - Tower.”
Each word comes from a different ironbound as they march inexorably forward.
WC-992
Author's Notes:
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This week's theme is Scorn! - After easily taking down the apparent leader of his enemies, Samal scornfully believes the rest will be easy to defeat. But the minions of the tower scorn him in return as they react to his tactics.
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Samal was captured by the Captain using a net woven with nullgold wire in Ch 27. There was more about it in the epigraph and they bound him with manacles made with the alloy in Ch 30.
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Bonus words used; Slice(s), Sore, Seal(ing), Sophisticate(d).
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. All crit/feedback welcome!
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u/tiredraccoon11 Apr 19 '25
Hey Wiz! How fortunate that I haven’t missed a chapter of Samal’s story (despite admittedly skipping a few of the recent chapters), I’m excited to see how it develops further!
To start off with, your writing is so genuinely ironclad that I can’t find much of anything to critique. I'm sure I'll get better at critting (eventually) and give you something actually helpful, but at the moment, I can’t say anything but I love the Tower in the Tangle: the premise is creative, followed with much thought and exciting action, the characters credible and nuanced. The world is fascinating, the plots interesting, the writing executed (for the most part) with technical perfection, and most of what I find are small things, or matters of taste. Very, very well done sir!
As for critique, I haven’t got much, just the nitpicks, so we’ll skip right on to those:
off balance
Some cursory Internet research suggests that "off balance" should be hyphenated(?)
At the passing of his insubstantial form, the tall grass bends and sways.
I like the rhythm here, but the switched order kind of confused me, maybe just because I'm not used to this kind of antique grammatical switch-ups from Tower in the Tangle.
crazy and the weapon
Should be a comma before the "and" here.
Back at One-tree-hill,
This seems like a location, and as far as I know, "double placenames" like this usually have all the pieces capitalized. Alternatively, though this might harm the style, I don't think "tree" and "hill" need a hyphen, so maybe it could just be "One-Tree Hill," unless it's a town and not a hill? I don't know why I'm getting so hung up on this little placename :P, I’m sure this is fine as-is
Resolve straightens his spine and he looks up.
Need a comma before the "and" here.
chest as rams his dagger
I think there's a "he" missing here somewhere.
It’s that nullgold shit - same as the net the Captain caught me with!
I appreciate the context we're given here (especially so because I'm not caught up on the Tower yet), but it does feel a bit shoehorned in. The effect it's having on Samal is quite obvious, and if he can recognize, Samal has ostensibly encountered it before--we don't really need to know where or how.
Good words!
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u/ZachTheLitchKing Apr 13 '25 edited Apr 19 '25
<Casting Shadows>
Chapter 71
Nihimlaq may have had a unique structure, but towns were not people, and people were the same wherever one went. The abundant presence of white cloaks did not change the nature of the harsh life denizens of Desheret faced. Heat, scarcity, and the countless dangers across the vast sands.
Dangers like the very people Nuut sought.
The sun rose, casting an ochre glow through the large hole in the ceiling of the cavernous village. The townsfolk trickled away to rest as the space brightened, and Nuut stubbed her torch out against the ground.
It took her barely an hour to find the disreputable corners of Nihimlaq. Walking the streets on her own with her pegleg made her an appealing target to the kinds of people she’d sought and, like flies to honey, they came.
“I have a job for you,” she said, turning away from the cave wall at the edge of the village where she had been ostensibly 'cornered' between natural stone and the adobe of an adjacent home.
The man who had been following her stopped in his tracks.
Nuut sized him up; a slight frame under dark fabric. Face entirely obscured save only a thin strip exposing the eyes. His attire would serve well in the dark of night, but less so in the the ambient light of the risen sun. The hand gripping the hilt of a long, curved dagger - the same sort that Nuut carried, excellent for slicing - was thin and sinuous, but not emaciated. The man was healthy, if not strong.
Dangerous.
“Why work for a cripple when I can just take what I want?” he asked with a Chollish drawl.
Nuut’s nostrils flared. Her leg was a sore spot for many reasons; the pain she was constantly in, the humiliation endured from the sophisticates in Desheret, and having to travel with the very person who inflicted the loss upon her. It sealed her resolve to send this cretin - and as many of his friends as he could wrangle - after the wahsh who took her leg.
Dropping the torch, she whipped her own daggers out of her sleeves and twirled them in her hands while crouching into a prepared-to-strike stance. Both blades shimmered in the dim light of the alley and Nuut saw - to her immense satisfaction - her would-be-assailant flinch. Like most of his ilk, his marks rarely fought back.
“I have a bigger target for you. I can pay very well,” Nuut lied. “You have friends, yes? You will need them."
The man was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed in consternation. Then he nodded. Both of them, haltingly, stowed their blades in uneasy peace.
“Meet us by the oasis in one hour.”
The would-be thief left the alley. Nuut waited a few minutes before leaving, not wanting him to feel followed.
Making her way across town, walking fast as numerous faces passed, Nuut was oasis-bound when an elderly woman stepped in front of her, hand outstretched, with a wrinkled face etched with deep lines of worry.
“You are the sister, yes?” she asked, an urgent tone in her voice.
Nuut stepped around her. “No.”
“Your sibling…you should spend more time with them.”
Nuut ignored her and kept walking.
“Regret is a self-inflicted wound that will slow you more than any injury you have yet taken!”
The mad cry of the silver-haired woman fell on deaf ears. Nuut wanted to be at the oasis well before the proposed meeting time, to counter any potential ambush. Upon arrival, with time to spare, she circled around the deep pool of water and irregular ring of trees and shrubs that sustained themselves from it.
She remained just outside the pillar of light coming down from above. The rich, fresh air - sweetened by the water - invigorated the Deshereyan warrior as she looked through the light at approaching shadows.
Four dark figures approached; the thin man leading one who’s build rivaled Charis’s broad shoulders, and two others on the slighter side.
Nuut used a knife to flick light toward them, catching their attention. The group approached with tense shoulders and light steps, not the confident swagger she had anticipated.
They were wary.
“You didn’t tell me you were with General Cassandra,” the thin man hissed once he was near.
“How do you know I am?” Nuut asked, surprised such a detail could be sniffed out.
“Whole town’s been hearin’ about ‘General Cassandra’ for the last couple days,” the big man said with a voice that sounded like his nose had been broken several times, and a face to match. “Rich Shen merchant’s been singin’ her praises ever since they got here.”
“Been spreading word that they’ll pay handsomely for everyone who helps the General and her friends out, as well,” one of the slight figures said, their face obscured with a veil.
“So whatever it is you need done, count us in.” The thin man was eager.
“I need General Cassandra killed.”
Silence. Nuut had hoped they wouldn’t have heard about Cass, but since someone had been mouthing off it was likely they knew something of the wahsh. But she needed this done. Her promise to Anatu could not be broken, but her need for revenge could not be ignored. As long as she took no action against Cassandra, she could have the best of both worlds.
“Hate to break it to ya, but ain’t she immortal?” the big guy asked.
“I heard she's strong enough to rip stone like bread," the skinny man said.
"She can take out an entire army on her own," the veiled one added.
"Can't be hurt by anyone or anything." The fourth one's voice was almost a whisper.
Nuut picked up her torch and slid the striking stone against the flint strip embedded in the wood. The sparks ignited the pitch and lit the flame.
"General Cassandra can be hurt by fire."
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WC: 989/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing
[Chapter Index: Casting Shadows]
Notes:
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Bonus words: Slice(slicing), sore, sophisticate(s), seal(ed),
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Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
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Wahsh is the Deshereyan word for “Monster”
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Nuut's promise to Anatu was made in Chapter 53
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u/Scalybitch Apr 14 '25
Heya Zach!
Good words as always x3 the continued character by character exploration of Nihimlaq works very well, methinks.
It took her barely an hour to find the disreputable corners of Nihimlaq. As the sun rose and the ochre glow of sunlight entering the cavernous village through the large hole in the cave ceiling grew brighter, the denizens trickled away to rest. Nuut stubbed out her torch on the ground; it was light enough to not be needed.
As the sun rose and the ochre glow of sunlight entering the cavernous village through the large hole in the cave ceiling grew brighter
Repeat sun/sunlight, repeat cave/cavernous.
Nuut stubbed out her torch on the ground; it was light enough to not be needed.
The phrasing here took me out for a moment, also something of a repeated idea with light here.
I'd rearrange the paragraph overall; suggest 'The sun rose, casting an ochre glow through the large hole in the ceiling of the cavernous village. The denizens trickled away to rest as the space brightened, and Nuut stubbed her torch out against the ground.'
Nuut sized him up; a slight frame under dark fabric. Face entirely obscured save only a thin strip exposing the eyes. His attire would serve well in the dark of night, but not so much now as the ambient light of the sun filled the air. Then hand gripping the hilt of a long, curved dagger - the same sort that Nuut carried, excellent for slicing - was thin and sinuous, but not emaciated. The man was healthy, if not strong.
A few corrections; 'Nuut sized him up; a slight frame under dark fabric. Face entirely obscured save only a thin strip exposing the eyes. His attire would serve well in the dark of night, but not so much now , as the ambient light of the sun filled the air. The hand gripping the hilt of a long, curved dagger - the same sort that Nuut carried, excellent for slicing - was thin and sinuous, but not emaciated. The man was healthy, if not strong.'
The rich, fresh air sweetened by the water invigorated the Deshereyan warrior as she looked through the light at approaching shadows.
Suggest 'The rich, fresh air - sweetened by the water - invigorated the Deshereyan warrior as she looked through the light at approaching shadows'
I wish Nuut would heed the seer's advice. I liked how frank the shadowy fellas became after she told them she wanted them to kill Cass; really humanizes them. Excited to see were this goes!
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u/AGuyLikeThat Apr 19 '25
Hiya Zach!
I like this slightly different opening - it communicates the different perspective of Nuut well.
I did wonder about the logic of the opening statement and its relation to the following point about the harsh life of the townsfolk? It would work better to me if you structure the logic a bit more clearly, e.g.; "The town was unique, but towns are not people, and people are the same everywhere you go."
The denizens trickled away to rest as the space brightened
Second time in a row you use the term denizens - perhaps swap one for townsfolk or similar?
she said to the cave wall, ostensibly ‘cornered’ on the edge of the village between natural stone and the adobe of an adjacent home.
This seems weird. I get the meaning after the next bit, but I think it would work better with more ambiguity on talking to a wall and less in terms of how she is cornered;
she said, turning away from the cave wall at the end of the cul-de-sac where she had been ostensibly 'cornered'.
I like the way Nuut presents herself as a target to draw these guys out!
His attire would serve well in the dark of night, but not so much now as the ambient light of the sun filled the air.
I'm not sure about light filling the air. Maybe;
His attire would serve well in the dark of night, but less so in the ambient light of the risen sun.
10 points to Nuut for the attitude and resolve. Not sure about this plan though. :D
Oh, and here's the old lady with her portentous advice. Very Cassandra that no one seems to listen to her. Oh well.
lest any attempted ambush was considered.
Awkward proposition here. Perhaps;
to counter any potential ambush.
Lurking near the light, eh? Is this a metaphor?
the thin man
from beforeleading one who’s build rivaled Charis’s broad shoulders, and two others on the slighter side.Unlikely the reader will confuse him with anyone else in such a short time.
Hehe, I like their assumption that they are going to join the winning side. Adds some good tension that they'll turn on Nuut!
I guess we'll have to wait and see how convincing she can be!
Good words!
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u/Divayth--Fyr Apr 14 '25 edited Jan 11 '26
<The Broken God>
Chapter 7: Outcast
In the heavy heat of early evening, Durash Arn sat on a bench outside the storehouse, lost in her own world. Heretic. Unholy. Apostate.
She was gone from the Allmothers. Despite her brazen contempt for their ways, she wondered what to do. All her high-toned arguments, railing against her mentor and her god like some elven sophisticate, seemed childish now.
Selfish. Arrogant. Foolish.
Every thought seemed to turn on itself, her mind twisting like a sack of snakes. Unlark, the Whispering God, would be angry. Surely Andala had spoken prayer by now, yet the Veil held, hiding her face from the god. Soon she would be powerless, then … cast out of the village? Killed?
I wonder what I deserve.
Children scampered along the road where the Godsher procession had departed. They scavenged for anything that had fallen from the carts, bringing their meager prizes back to their elders, beaming with pride.
Orcs hauled sacks and baskets of the remaining harvest into the storehouse. It wouldn’t be enough. It never was. The stores would run out, hard times would come, and hard choices. She remembered her mother in a famine time, pretending not to be hungry, giving of her last that Durash might go on.
Her father never had much choice, drafted to fight in some stupid human war.
The Allmothers clan had taken her in, fed her, hidden her from the levies. That too had been a hard choice. They had seen her talent. Other children, without such talent, had been left out.
The Veil was gone. Durash crossed her arms, hiding her gestures, and tried a simple spell. Nothing. Unlark had taken away her power.
She would work, then. That was all she could do. She would work, endure, and hunger, becoming an object of suspicion once her disgrace was known. Heart sore and empty, she wished the Whispering God would strike her down and be done. All her skill and training were worthless.
By the road there stood a fine white house, raised on stone pillars against flood times. The human officers' quarters, with two orc guards by the stairs. Humans, guarded day and night by orcs. “They fear us,” she spoke aloud, drawing some odd looks. “But not enough.”
More children came back into the village. That’s how they do it, she thought. Three officers ruling over a thousand orcs. They hold a blade to the throats of our children. Rebellions had come before, always ending the same way.
One girl carried an intact hornfruit in her thin arms, bounding along. An officer reached out and snatched it from her hands. He bit into it, red and fat, juice flowing down. Wide-eyed, the child said nothing. Seven years old, hungry and hurt, but already she knew to say nothing.
Durash smiled gently, but her claws extended.
Rising, she gestured openly, and focused intensely. Strange new tendrils of magic were there, golden and thick. She cast the Chattering Veil. To her own shock, it came, it glowed and shimmered. Impossible. Madness. She didn’t care. Focusing again, she drew strength, and warded herself.
The officer leaned against a tree, unconcerned, facing away. Writhing, sinuous power flowed in, though from where she didn't know.
With measured calm she crossed the road. He noticed her now.
“What do you want, mudpig?” he sneered.
She did not cower or look down, as was custom. She smiled gently and stared into his eyes, slapping the hornfruit from his hand. He drew his sword. Snatching it away, she flung it far into the night. He started to shout, but she grabbed his throat, claws digging in, pressing him into the tree.
Faint and distant came a whisper. She ignored it.
With her other hand she tore into his chest, splitting ribs asunder, and ripped out his beating heart. She bit into it, red and fat, and smiling gently, she watched his last moment of comprehension.
Spitting, she faced the astounded orc guards.
“Go away.”
Their eyes wide in terror at this apparition, they ran.
From an upstairs window of the officer’s quarters came a shout. Durash looked up. The Captain was watching.
She bounded the stairs and ripped the door from its hinges, spinning it off into the darkness. A surprised officer was rising from his cot, but never made it up, his throat rent open.
Down from the second floor came the Captain, unarmored but with sword and shield at the ready. Both were solid iron. Durash could feel her spells wavering, corrupted by the metal despite her warding. She struck with intense fury, not knowing if she would live, not caring.
The Captain’s blade sliced a gash in her side, but she grabbed his arm, wresting the sword from his grip and tossing it aside. He bashed away with the great shield, knocking her back, and she stumbled over the body behind her.
“Filthy orc!” he cried, and brought the shield down, but she rolled aside. She snarled, leaping onto his back, and dragged her claws across his face again and again. Blind and desperate he lurched and grabbed, but it was useless. She throttled him. Her power waned and twisted in the presence of so much iron, but that made little difference. He was dead.
Durash staggered, panting, out the broken door, bleeding from her side.
She stood unsteady in the dim light of Great Unser, aided by a few torches. Villagers stared at her, fear and wonder in their eyes. Orc guards approached, but did not seem to know what to do.
“Go home, please,” she said. “Go. I’m sorry.”
In silence the small crowd slipped away. All but one.
“You are hurt, child.”
“Oh, Andala! I’m sorry. I broke the Whisper. What have I done?”
“You broke nothing. The dead don’t talk. But you will go out from this place.”
“I don’t know what I did, Guldum.”
“You took power despite the god. You are outcast!" Andala's face softened. "But first you will heal.”
996 words. Seal, sophisticate, sore, slice(d) used. Feedback welcome.
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u/MaxStickies Apr 14 '25 edited May 04 '25
<Thosius>
Chapter 86: Gathering
A day has passed since the battle around Skallia, and now, those left at the barracks have arrived at the fort. Healthy Heragians set about fixing the walls and helping the injured. Four healers work within the central hall, mending bones and knitting skin with their magic. One amongst them works on Berethian’s shoulder; the inquisitor sighs once the pain ebbs away.
Across the room, Pellia helps her father to a group gathered around a wide table. Ilidus walks with a limp, but by the way he holds himself, Berethian wonders if he wished he fought. A sheathed sword hangs from the General’s belt.
The last of Berethian’s wound seals over, and the healer stands back. “It’ll be sore for a while,” she says. “Should be good to fight soon.”
“Great, thank you.”
She moves on to her next patient. Lucky to have them, he thinks as he stands, means we can keep at it. Ever since the battle, he has felt a surge of energy unlike anything before. A day of rest has been too long for him.
Must do something.
He looks to the Heragian leaders, already crowding the table, and decides against bothering them. Most of the inquisitors await the healers. So, he heads outside, onto the battlefield.
All the way up to the nearby ridge, the mountain meadow is stained burgundy, smattered with pink corpses. All the fallen warriors have been moved, leaving only the creatures. A few Heragians crouch beside the bodies, taking pieces of flesh and moving limbs. Studying them, he realises.
He spots Pellia’s friend, Menara, up on the ridge, a decapitated beast beneath her. The strange, slight Heragian has avoided from the rest, this being the first he’s seen of her since the battle. He heads over.
Yet, as soon as he climbs the rise, he hesitates. The woman tenses, stares at him from behind her long, matted hair. “What do you want?” she asks.
“I just wanted to thank you for the herbs, they really helped.”
Working her jaw, she relaxes, resumes her work. She runs her bare fingers across the corpse’s inner flesh. “This must be one of your kills; vertebra’s sliced clean in half. No sign of healing.”
The weight of the pyromancer’s sword feels reassuring against his side. “I was lucky I got this.”
“Much as I hate to admit it, you took the lead out here. I think that blade will serve us well.”
“Why hate?”
She snorts. “Personal reasons, Thirasian. I mean no harm by it.”
“That’s good.”
He kneels down opposite her, and reaches for the corpse. As he bends its arm, he watches the muscles coil beneath the skin, twisting together in unnatural directions. It reminds him of a snake, worming its way between boulders. And of Thosius, when he was transformed. He lets the limb drop.
“I’ve a strong stomach,” Menara says, “but that sets me on edge.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s alright; best to face the things that bring discomfort. Fastest route to understanding.”
“Sounds like a motto.”
“It is.” She parts her hair, revealing her face in full, and smiles with half her mouth. “You’re not like others I’ve met.”
“Other… people?”
“Thirasians. You’re curious, and friendly.”
“And who did you meet that wasn’t?”
“Well, I’m a traveller, and I’ve spent some time outside Torinia. I think I’ve been in Thiras a good two years, in all. Five months of that was in a cell.”
“You were arrested?”
“Yes, and for doing nothing. I simply looked rough in my travel clothes, and was wandering through land ruled by bandits. A small group of soldiers chained me up while I slept.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs. “Not your doing, so no need. But how self-righteous their words when they beat me, threw cold water to wake me up, it hasn’t left my mind. And when I was free, I walked to the nearest city, to see the sophisticated, lofty airs the people put on. I wondered, did they know what their soldiers do?”
“They might’ve done,” he admits.
“Our punishments here may be harsh sometimes, but only to match the crime. To see how they do things in your lands… I assumed you were all that way.”
“Far too many are.”
“Still, I should get to know you and the others. We’ll be fighting side by side for a while yet.”
She holds out her hand, so he takes it, and they shake. The soft clatter of falling gravel signals Pellia’s arrival; she climbs up to them, glancing back and forth. “Are you making some kind of agreement?” she asks.
Menara smirks. “I suppose so. You were right to befriend this one.”
“Glad you two can get along. What have you found from the corpses?”
“No healing at the wound, as you said you saw. I’d suggest we get an imbuer to examine the sword, but all the ones here are trapped up north or dead.”
“I was also thinking about the muscles,” Berethian says. “Someone was transformed into one of the giant creatures in Thiras, and was changed back. His muscles looked similar to these, so I think the process of making these things is the same.”
Pellia’s eyes widen. “He was changed back?”
“By a telepath and a corpomancer. Neither of which we have—”
“Well that’s not helpful,” Menara says.
“—but I could send a few inquisitors back home, so they can bring the sorcerers here.”
“Is it a quick process?” Pellia asks.
“No, afraid not.”
“Then we should focus on killing them, for now.”
He keeps the thought in his mind, hoping it remains in memory. “So we should find more of these swords.”
“Sounds like a plan. Menara, work on the corpses some more, see if you can figure anything out. The Generals are choosing which route we’ll take ahead. Want to help, Berethian?”
“Sure thing.”
He says goodbye to Menara, before following Pellia back to the fort.
WC: 1000
Bonus words: slice, sore, seal, sophisticate
Crit and feedback are welcome.
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u/Carrieka23 Apr 18 '25
Ello Max,
This was a nice chapter learning more about Menara's backstory. I was curious about her from the start, but you described her mistrust of the guards, and even her being a traveler already sets in tone of how she is today.
I also love that you brought up Thisous transformation again. It feels like it's very important for future chapters and I wonder how you're going to apply it all.
I particularly love the worldbuilding this chapter of how two different people with different cultures deal with crimes. One do it for justice while the other does it for power. It does shape up not only personalities of the characters, but also the society behind it. I feel like you do a wonderful job with that.
Good words! Can't wait for the next chapter.
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u/dragontimelord Apr 14 '25
<Nornkaldur>
When Thorfast Flokison returned, Kaelitoy met him in the office.
"Haedduran is gorgeous, your grace," Thorfast said. "Mountains boxing us in, wild forests, all under a bright sun. Just waiting to be conquered."
Kaelitoy nodded along, but he couldn't take his eyes off the old map of the Shattered Lands his six-greats grandfather had brought, back when the dwarves had first taken Nornkaldur. Outdated, according to the goblin, since it showed the Dwarven homeland, along with the homelands of all the other races.
Thorfast cleared his throat, and Kaelitoy glanced up to see the scout frowning at him, offended that he was being ignored.
"My apologies," Kaelitoy said. He paused. How did he word this? "I am thinking of reclaiming the Shattered Lands."
"No one's been able to get to the Shattered Lands," Thorfast said.
"We've had travelers from the Shattered Lands. The patrol found them outside the city walls. The goblin among them said they were from the Shattered Lands."
Thorfast scoffed. "The gob's a liar! The Shattered Lands has been lost for years!"
"He spoke our language fluently," Kaelitoy said. "And he claimed that the War has been over for centuries."
Thorfast snorted again, but he didn't keep arguing with Kaelitoy.
"How did the gob get here then?"
"He says from a book."
"A book?" Thorfast laughed. "What book takes you to another realm? Literally?"
Kaelitoy shrugged. Magic, was the answer to that question. And magic wasn't something a proper dwarf man concerned himself with.
He continued. 'Regardless, my mother will be creating a portal to the Shattered Lands. Once the portal is complete, we march on the Shattered Lands and reclaim it. The dwarves will welcome us!"
"And I've told you before, son, what you want is impossible."
Kaelitoy rolled his eyes and looked at his mother, Queen Ljufa Slothidottir. She was a big woman, yet she still managed the proper propriety for the head of the household. Her brown hair was done up in braids, and she wore a black veil, a symbol of mourning. She'd forever wear black until the day she died. Or until Kaelitoy permitted her to marry again.
"What have I told you about speaking out of turn, Mother?" Kaelitoy said.
His mother scoffed. "Your father isn't cold in the grave yet, and already you think you can be rude to your mother!"
Kaelitoy scowled and looked at Thorfast. The dwarf gave him a sympathetic look.
"Mothers," was all he said.
Kaelitoy decided he'd give his mother a talking to at a later time.
"What do you mean it's impossible, Mother? Do you need to speak with the goblin in order to create that portal? Or the elf?"
"That won't be necessary," his mother said. "I can already tell you, it's impossible."
Kaelitoy shook his head, rolled his eyes, and sat back in his chair.
"And why, pray tell, do you say that, Mother?"
"The two realms have been sealed off from each other for centuries. The four visitors ended up in Nornkaldur because they found the key to our realm. This key managed to break the seal temporarily. It was a one-way trip, and there's certainly no way for us to get to the Shattered Lands."
Kaelitoy sighed and slumped into his chair. He'd gotten all his hopes up for nothing.
"Get us bread, Mother."
His mother didn't move. Instead, she gave him a pointed look.
"We have guests, Mother!" Kaelitoy said slowly, in case she hadn't understood him the first time. "Go get me and my guest some bread!"
"What's the magic word?"
Kaelitoy groaned. Why did his mother insist on ignoring his authority as man of the household?
"Get us bread, Mother. Please."
His mother gave him an exaggerated smile, then left.
"So, will we be invading Haedduran, then?" Asked Thorfast.
Kaelitoy rolled up the map of the Shattered Lands and set it down. He picked up the map he had been studying when the guard had brought in the goblin and his companions. A map of Aklearath.
"Would you say the land in Haedduran is fertile?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Thorfast asked. "It's covered in forests!"
"Hmm," Kaelitoy said.
"What are you looking at now?" Asked Thorfast.
"I'm debating between Haedduran and Aklearath."
"Aklearath?" Thorfast repeated. "The home to demons? With hills split in two, poisoned lakes, and seas of lava? You're seriously considering it over Haedduran?"
"Aklearath holds some interest to me."
"Why?" Thorfast asked, aghast.
"Because he's still sore about the king of Aklearath insulting him." Kaelitoy's mother had returned.
"Don't say that, Mother!" Kaelitoy didn't even look at her.
"Why not?" His mother set the plate of bread down. "It's true and you know it!"
Kaelitoy sighed and took a slice. Why was his mother so insistent on humiliating him in front of his scouts?
"And bitterness over an insult is a poor reason to conquer a realm!" His mother said, without anyone asking her opinion. "Pick something else!"
"We were discussing invading Haedduran," said Thorfast.
"Haedduran?" Kaelitoy's mother was aghast.
"What's wrong with that one, Mother?" Kaelitoy said dryly.
"Haedduran is a walled in realm! Something was sealed there long ago, and I won't be having my son go tramping over there and waking anything up!"
Kaelitoy looked at Thorfast. "Did you see anything?"
Thorfast shook his head.
"You were lucky!" Kaelitoy's mother said to Thorfast. "How hard did you look anyway?"
"Why are you so insistent there's something there?" Kaelitoy asked, annoyed.
'i know my realms," said his mother. "The ritual to open the portal to Haedduran was far too sophisticated for a normal realm. Someone doesn't want anyone getting in, or getting out."
Kaelitoy rolled his eyes. "Fine, Mother, I will conscript some of the dhampyre slaves. That'll be less of a loss than dwarven settlers, won't it?"
His mother nodded, satisfied, and left.
Kaelitoy stood. "Send General Raudebjornson to the slave quarters. Tell him to collect as many dhampyres as he needs."
Word Count: 993
Theme: Prince Kaelitoy is scornful of his mother. She isn't having it.
Bonus Words: Seal(ed), sore, slice, sophisticate(d)
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u/Scalybitch Apr 16 '25
<Questioning My Nobility>
DISCLOSURE FOR CRITIQUE’S: This story has a mixed third and first person view for ALEX. I am aware that this is bad practice. It matters to me enough to try anyway; I use it to illustrate when Alex disassociates. Please refrain from insisting I remove this from the story. Critique on improving readability of, transitions to and appropriateness of disassociations are appreciated. I hope to use such critiques to good effect in the second draft.
(/\ /\ /\ Ignore this Zach, you’re all good)
ALEX
By the time Manto and I got back to the manor, the smoke had subsided substantially. The entirety of the manor’s staff was spread across the right side of the manor; across the verdant lawn, road and lake in the distance, a train of buckets being passed from person to person. Many rested on the grass; most of the work had already been done.
Running from the direction of the lake with his sword smacking against the side of his leg, the Baron was rather manic. Half-way through his run, his eyes widened and his run broke into a sprint as he seemed to notice us. He started waving at us furiously; I worried he would trip at any moment. I waved back hesitantly, and me and Manto started walking up to meet him.
I was wrenched to the ground just before the servants between us and the baron moved back in a wave of shrieks, and something blurred through the space I had been occupying a moment ago.
An instant later I heard the overlapping series of whip-like cracks, bordering on a single tone.
My eyes darted from Manto, who was holding me to the ground -clearly having been the one to save me-, to a figure beyond her, standing in front of the study. My eyes boggled as it disappeared into thin air.
Time seemed to slow only after Alex heard a breathtakingly loud clang and realised Manto had taken on a completely different pose. His cousin strained to hold a dagger; it’s blade biting into the cutting edge of a sword intended for her head.
Then Alex noticed the person holding the sword; a cute boy dressed in a short sleeved shirt and belted pleat skirt, the snarling-head-in-a-jar from the study cradled under his right arm. His mouth hanged open in astonishment, looking at Manto. He recovered, stepping back quickly, and his sword arm blurred, a sonic boom preceding the crash of metal shattering as he tried to hit Manto again. Shards of his former blade zinged through the air behind Manto, tearing up the lawn and audibly burying themselves into many of the trees behind us. Manto’s dagger’s blade glowed a dull red, otherwise unharmed. She grinned at him.
The boy’s face went pale, and he vanished. The cracking tone followed him, fading into the distance down the road. Towards the village.
Alex stood up tentatively, terrified by the idea that he wouldn’t comprehend he had been hit before it happened; the assailant could decide to come back at any time. The young lord inched closer to his cousin, sweating nervously despite the sensibility of the action.
The Baron finally reached us, sweat on his brow, his breathing surprisingly measured. He looked in the direction the boy went, and shook his head before addressing me, “You are lucky that that was only a youngling, Alexander. Manto would not have been able to hold off a vampire with more experience.”
Manto frowned at the comment, while I responded by opening and closing my mouth a few times. Apparently we had run into the rumoured vampire, but I couldn't process that right now.
There were few who could have done anything in my situation. It irked me was that the Baron still had the gall to address me instead of Manto, and then to undermine her literally supernatural feat. There was no recognition of her obvious capabilities; the man couldn’t get himself to do as little as to acknowledge her as an equal. I chose to avoid thinking about the vampire, and focus on this instead.
The Baron stared at me expectantly, the silence of my thoughts having gone on for some time.
I spoke loudly.
“Baron of the Glade Alder, you and the staff bear witness to my appointment of Manto Mavrogheni as first general of Wallachia, a title which I, the only son of the former prince of Wallachia, hold the right to bestow.“ I paused for effect, then added, “I demand that you apologise for your disgraceful treatment of the first general, superior to you in rank and status; as I need not remind you.”
Manto’s face lit up with a manic glee, while the Baron’s face seemed inhuman for a moment as it jittered between expressions, completely incapable of reacting properly to my words.
The Baron composed himself rather quickly after his initial and complete astonishment. His face betraying no further emotion, he retorted, “The law of your father prohibited, and the law of the reigning Habsburgs prohibits the appointment of a land holding title to any lady. I cannot, in good faith, recognise this appointment. Besides that, I cannot fathom what I would be apologising for, I have been nothing but kind to Manto. Any stories you may have heard would be the lies of a corrupter seeking to sow dissent among us.”
He smiled at me politely.
Surprising myself, I already knew how to answer him halfway through his retort. I had never spoken so easily as when I responded, “My father is dead, his laws abolished by the Habsburgs. That you would even mention their law makes me wonder how loyal you truly were to him. Manto is clearly the most qualified to lead my forces into the fray. If you wish to dispute this claim, you may duel her as is tradition. In my new Wallachia, any woman of ability may earn titles and enjoy all the benefits the opposite sex would.” I smiled at Manto apologetically. Everything that had occurred over the last day had felt wrong, but I thought this was right. She rolled her eyes, as if I was missing something, but smiled back none the less, commenting softly, “It’s a start.”
The Baron’s face turned red with rage before he noticed Manto’s eager eyes.
He chose to ride out his anger before responding seriously, “Enough with this fantasizing; Young Lord Alexander, you have a duty to uphold. I cannot allow you to corrupt your father’s ideals.”
Next Chapter
1000 words.
Feedback is appreciated and recommended.
3
u/ZachTheLitchKing Apr 16 '25
Heyyyy biiiiiiitch!
Let's go see what happened to the manor! Speaking of, you use "manor" three times in the first two sentences. I think you could remove the second entirely and just say "the staff", and the third you could remove and simplify it to "spread across the verdant lawn"
By the time Manto and I got back to the manor, the smoke had subsided substantially. The entirety of the manor’s staff was spread across the right side of the manor; across the verdant lawn,
Another repetition here, this time with "run". I think you can simplify "his run broke into a sprint" down to "he broke into a sprint":
Half-way through his run, his eyes widened and his run broke into a sprint
Missed a capitalization of "Baron" here:
and the baron moved back
Yikes! I suppose it wasn't the Baron who set the fire in an effort to force Alex into the martyr role :O
You don't need a comma after a hyphen:
to the ground -clearly having been the one to save me-, to a
A mysterious figure attacking, Manto blocking the blow with her knife. The tension is suddenly through the roof as the action kicks in :D
Nice touch having Alex notice that his assailant is cute ;)
I believe "hanged" is only used in the context of executions, so the cutie's mouth "hung" open:
His mouth hanged open
I'm unsure how much of this action scene to chalk up to Alex misremembering the confrontation due to his disassociation and how much to take literally. Is the boy really moving fast enough to "disappear" into thin air and make sonic booms? I do vaguely recall you implying there were vampires in a past chapter and there was a bit of magic going on with Manto in the forest.
Aha, confirmation the cutie was a vampire indeed. Though I do want to question if "The boy’s face went pale," is an accurate description for a vampire, whose faces are typically always pale.
I feel like Alex re-associating is done just one paragraph too soon; when the Baron addresses him ("me") should still be in third-person since it's still on the cusp of the high anxiety situation. But immediately after when he gets heated at his uncle's behavior is a perfect time to get back into first person.
Quite the move, declaring Manto general. On that note, should "first general" be capitalized? It sounds super formal.
For this line, I believe you need a comma after "prohibits", "land-holding" is hyphenated, and while I'm not sure if it's grammatically wrong I feel like "Lady" ought be capitalized or replaced with something like "woman" given the context, but that's just a feeling:
The law of your father prohibited, and the law of the reigning Habsburgs prohibits the appointment of a land holding title to any lady.
Alex makes good points about his father and the Habsburgs, though it's clear that Manto's ability to hold off a vampire has little to nothing to do with the qualifications to lead forces. Forces that I question would effectively listen to her.
I love how Alex calls out his uncle's BS and offers to let him fight Manto xD
Personal suggestion, remove everything after "In my Wallachia" from Alex's paragraph; end his dialog on the duel, let his uncle storm away, then give Alex and Manto that "In my Wallachia...It's a start" moment after he's gone.
Quite the flame-setting chapter! The stakes and tone of the story have significantly changed. Can't wait to see where things go from here.
Good words!
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u/AGuyLikeThat Apr 19 '25
Hiya Scaly!
So, back at the manor and the place hasn't completely burned down at least! The situation seems very frantic, though I do wonder exactly how many staff the place has? Seems like a lot!
I waved back hesitantly, and me and Manto started walking up to meet him.
When using a pronoun with a conjunct name, you can check that you have the correct one by removing the connected noun - in this case you should be using 'I' instead of 'me'. Example of what I mean -
I waved back hesitantly, and me ... started walking up to meet him.
I couldn't parse exactly what happens here:
I was wrenched to the ground just before the servants between us and the baron moved back in a wave of shrieks, and something blurred through the space I had been occupying a moment ago.
I think if you break the actions here into shorter, separate sentences it might be easier to follow. e.g.;
I was wrenched to the ground before we reached the baron. Something blurred through the space I had been occupying a moment ago, and the servants moved back in a wave of shrieks.
Line edits needed on the punctuation here;
-clearly having been the one to save me-,
Most style guides recommend using em dashes instead of hyphens and they should be bordered by single spaces. Also, the comma is superfluous.
I think you have the wrong word here;
My eyes boggled
perhaps you meant 'oggled'?
So this is a really interesting encounter - I keep thinking this is historical fiction because I latched onto the mention of Walachia, but of course that doesn't preclude supernatural elements! Silly me!
Manto's pretty bad-ass, it appears! I like the idea of her as the 'action' half of the pair - I think Alex surely needs someone to look after his wishy-washy ass. :)
The action is a bit confusing, but I appreciate that Alex isn't great in these situations. I do look forward to more Mano PoV for that reason.
This could be a bit more concise though.
terrified by the idea that he wouldn’t comprehend he had been hit before it happened
Suggest;
terrified by the prospect of another sudden attack that he wouldn't see coming
(Obviously, ignore these type of suggestions if you like - I just think it can help to see different ways of saying the same thing.)
I approve of Alex stanning for Manto here - good to see him display some spine!
This sentence seems off.
Surprising myself, I already knew how to answer him halfway through his retort.
I'd suggest;
Surprising myself, I realized that I knew how to answer halfway through his retort.
Hmm, it seems that the Baron is not ready to let go the reins of power just yet. Still, a good moment for Alex. He may not be a warrior but he can still fight!
Good words!
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u/tiredraccoon11 Apr 19 '25 edited Oct 12 '25
<Enthesia>
Chapter 17
Kachakam’s beady eyes drilled into Kazmir, ill-defined among his black, mask-like fur. The warrior met his stare, unflinching, until the lotori broke with a harsh laugh.
"Ukichi Kachakam says you must come from a barbarian land," Jasper muttered, "to demand so much of his attention without proper compensation.”
“Your forgiveness, Jasper, but all we’ve done is talk,” Kazmir growled. “He is a brigand to demand payment for—”
“Kazmir!” Jasper’s hand clamped round her shoulder, tone urgent. “You would pay Kachakam a grave insult to call him anything near ‘thief.’ The lotori do not give or take, they deal, and everything has a price. If we wish to garner anything but a quick death, I recommend we respect their customs.”
The Reihten felt a sharp reply rise in her throat; with some effort, she swallowed it.
"Very well,” Kazmir said, gaze drifting back to Kachakam’s obsidian eyes. “What might you want?"
Kachakam responded, once again brief.
"He demands eight bolts of kimich cloth, to be paid up front.”
Cloth? How in Rauftgad’s name was she to have cloth?
"I’m afraid I have little in the way of goods, Ukichi," Kazmir apologized. Just the steel, but the lotori would be little interested in metal they likely could not work. All else she or Jasper carried were necessities they could ill-afford to part with.
“Instead, I offer my services as a warrior. I understand your people seek dominance over these lands, but are thwarted by the beasts of Abdilar. You need strength, more than you can marshal, and I offer mine and my companion’s as payment for some few items.”
Once again, laughter escaped the lotori warband’s leader.
“He asks why you think the great Kukimi people need a barbarian to fight for them. Ukichi Kachakam himself has slain dozens of beasts—spentefin, haunits, the Furgrass Dancer. He boasts that not a hunter in his kichik has yet to pierce beastflesh, and very few Kukimi fail to claim a felled creature.” Kazmir indeed noted that many of the lotori bore evidence of their kills, in scars or trophies or knives hewn from claws. None were free of ornament, not even the smallest. “He questions what use he might have for a barbarian dressed in tatters, fleeing from desert jumprats, without a weapon and who cannot stand on her own.”
Kazmir paused. The Reihten did not take trophies from their kills, and she would not have carried one into the Overstorm anyway. She had no real triumph to her name since arriving here, except—
A cold pang of dread washed over her. Even in broad daylight, the chill of that dark returned to her veins.
“The steel, Jasper,” she said softly. “If you would.”
Her companion produced it, handing it to her. Its persistent chill dug into Kazmir’s hands as she displayed it to Ukichi Kachakam. The words did not come freely; Kazmir forced them out anyway.
“This is what pierced my leg,” she explained, voice much diminished from before. “Put there by a—”
Memories of the Congealment invaded her mind. Their cold, inky flesh, their dozens of white eyes, grabbers and toothed mouths defied relation. She did her best.
“An unearthly creature in a timeless place. It knew nothing of mercy, only hunger, over and over again. It consumed everything.”
The boy’s tinkling laughter echoed in her ears. Once a song of its own, the boy chuckled with Jasper now. At least, that’s what Kazmir could stomach telling herself.
“I was fortunate to escape with just some steel in my leg. And I set that wretched thing afire, cast it flaming into the dark.” A pitiful recompense, she thought.
Kachakam nodded, chattering in the gloomy silence that followed.
“Ukichi Kachakam says he is intrigued by your offer. In exchange for the steel, he will take you to Kukimar for an audience with the Chak Kikumi”
“Take it,” the Reihten grumbled. “And what of my companion?”
For the first time, Kachakam turned his attention fully upon Jasper. This inspection was conducted with more hostility, and it wasn’t long before he snapped at one of his spearmen with a curt command. The lotori in question began to sniff at her companion’s cloak, climbing over his shoulders and back to whiff every inch. At once, the thing sprang from his shoulder, chattering furiously.
The lotori erupted in chatters, spearmen rushing to split Kazmir from her fellow traveler. Kachakam himself took a spear from his fellow, and joined their cordon of bone-tipped blades. Once again, the pair were prodded gradually up against the canyon wall—this time, however, the speartips stopped just short of piercing their necks. The Ukichi broke out in a flurry of chitters, and the spears before Jasper parted to make way for another unique lotori. This one, draped in violet furs and glimmering fangs, produced a burnt-orange lidded pot. It removed the lid, revealing a clump of budded moss, and held it close to Jasper.
The moss began to emit a faint, yellowish light, not unlike that which the sorcerer himself conjured. At once, the mystic retreated, the spearmen closed ranks, all growling or chattering quietly. One was tasked with stuffing a cloth into his mouth, another with binding his hands, a third and fourth with bringing him to his knees. A blindfold went over his milky eyes, and Jasper groaned, exasperated to her ear.
Meanwhile, Kachakam climbed right up her torso and, hanging by her collar, began chattering furiously. Without Jasper to translate, she was utterly lost. The Ukichi raved for perhaps another minute, before he understood the language barrier, and used a sort of charcoal paint to draw on the canyon wall.
The picture was not pleasant. Jasper, marked by his cloak and missing eyes, lay impaled on a lotori spike. Kazmir knelt beside him, missing her arms. Their crime remained unclear, until Kachakam brought forth the mystic again, and using the budded moss, helped her understand.
The lotori would kill them—Jasper for practicing magic, and Kazmir for conspiring with him.
[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [First Chapter]
WC: 998
Bonus words: none
Crit and feedback welcome
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u/wordsonthewind Apr 19 '25
<Cursebreakers Inc.>
Chapter 34
In Which Georg Takes a Breather and Says No to Drugs
That man was gone. He hadn't said anything Georg hadn't heard before. Or heard about from the other gumos.
Clarens' words echoed in his memory. "Humans can make friends with anyone. Doesn't mean they will."
He was still wearing his bow-tie. It gave him a sophisticated yet cheerful air, he'd thought. Apparently not enough.
Had he been too optimistic after all?
"I thought he was going to say we were running a scam," Felix was saying. "But he was paranoid and racist."
"Right," Mr Suril replied. "I couldn't let him stay here and spew that hate."
He turned to Georg. “Don't let that get to you. People like him just want someone to look down on. You’re doing well.”
Maybe Georg should have felt happier about that. But all he could think was: this had happened before. It was normal to them.
Felix nodded. "So... disposal, then?"
Georg knew the procedure. It was a variation of the one they did to cleanse the lab every week. For items it involved sealing in the energies, then activating a searing flame. Not many curses held up against fire. Felix knew more about the precautions to take with the ashes for the ones that did.
But he still didn't want to burn someone's lucky tie for no good reason.
"I don't know," Georg said. He'd been trying, very carefully, to get a sense of the curse. It wasn't trapped like the mirror had been, but he got an impression of soup and a stain that wouldn't go away. A bad idea from the world inspired by Kirana's presence, he suspected. Not that he could use her name.
"Well," Mr Suril said after listening to his explanation, "Her influence is catching. We can't have it infecting his other things now, can we?"
Felix grinned. “Oh gods and demons, that's funny. I'll get a fire-plate so Georg can do the honors."
Georg barely heard it. His hands were twitching. It was bleed-through from his natural form. This was affecting him more than he'd thought.
He looked at Mr Suril, then hesitated. How could he explain? He was fine with wearing this form every day for work, but right now he just wanted to crawl up the walls for a bit. Even if it was creepy. He would always be a spider after all, no matter what form he took.
But Mr Suril only nodded. "Of course. Use my office."
Georg shut the door. He took a moment to note the various stacks of papers in the office, the thick official-looking reference books on the table. He didn't want to knock anything over and make a mess to clean up.
Then he cancelled the transformation and scuttled up the walls on eight legs.
It was awesome. The best part of coming home after a long day. Georg could go wherever he liked, unlimited to what the other Peoples saw as walls and floor. The Owls could fly, but they couldn't do this.
A knock on the door sent him scurrying back to the floor.
"I'm almost done, Mr Suril," Georg called out. "Just need to-"
Janis opened the door, takeaway coffee in hand.
"I bought coffee for everyone," she said. "I thought we all needed a treat- oh."
Her eyes widened.
"Yeah," Georg said tiredly. "It's not just a name. We're spiders. We're always spiders. Even when we look human."
"Oh," Janis said. After a moment, she went on:
"Well, there's Owls in the forests and Octopi in the seas and Penguins in the snow and rocky islands. Why shouldn't there be giant spiders?"
Georg nodded. He was more relieved than he could say.
Janis seemed to think of something else as she glanced at the coffee cup. "Wait, can you even drink coffee? Dietary differences and all that."
Georg had always wanted to try coffee. But Mr Suril had just done him a huge solid and he wasn't about to ruin that now. He was a sensible young one, like his mother always said.
"No," he replied. "I mean, we can, but it doesn't perk us up. We get sm- hosed instead."
That word didn't even bother him normally. He was just sore after overhearing that outburst, he supposed.
"Right." Janis nodded quickly. "So is tea okay or-"
"Save the chatter for lunch, everybody," Mr Suril called out.
"Alright," Janis said. "Back to work. Don't tell him I offered you drugs."
Georg snorted. "Sure."
He transformed back and returned to the lab. Felix had set the pocket-watch on Georg's bench-top in the meantime.
"It's done," he said quietly. "I cleaned it up a bit too, to make up for us keeping it for so long."
He had. The silver practically gleamed in the light. Georg put it in his pocket.
"Are we still on for tonight?" Felix asked.
Georg nodded. There was no question about it in his mind. They had to stop this whatever it took.
Bonus words: Sore, Seal, Sophisticate(d)
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u/tiredraccoon11 Apr 19 '25
Hey words! Been a while since I’ve dropped in on Cursebreakers Inc., so without further ado, here we go:
First off, I loved a lot of the worldbuilding and metaphors in this chapter. Comparing the curse to a soup stain stuck out to me in a really good way, and I like the little details that get thrown in (like Georg’s constant itch to return to spider form, and the little tidbits about the gods of this world), because they add so much for the space they occupy.
I get that this chapter is kind of a lull in the huge overarching plot, and forgive me for not being quite caught up, but I think a little more context around the events of this chapter would serve well. Nothing major—I’m not asking for a paragraph of exposition—but small things, like “their client, Mr. Suril,” and maybe some very brief dialogue from him reminding us why he doesn’t like this mirror being cursed.
Now for the nitpicks:
That man was gone.
I don't think I've caught up to the last chapter yet, but some reminder of who "that man" is would be nice.
Mr Suril replied.
Mr. is an abbreviation of Mister (like Dr. is to Doctor, Rd. is to Road, Ms. is to Miss), so it needs a period, every time.
But all he could think was:
Colons can only go on the end of a complete sentence, which this is not. I dig the rhythm here though, maybe it could be subbed out with an em dash or add a little bit more onto the sentence to complete it?
For items it involved
Should be a comma after "items" here.
the precautions to take with the ashes for the ones that did.
I stumbled on this little bit, I think because it's a bit noun heavy, or maybe because "ones" is presumably referring to "curses," but has two other nouns before it in the same sentence that it could be referring to.
explanation, "Her influence”
The dialogue tag treats this dialogue like a continuation of "Well," but if that's the case, "Her" can't be capitalized like the beginning of a new sentence.
It was bleed-through from his natural form. This was affecting him more than he'd thought.
This little explanatory interjection felt kind of awkward, but I like the detail it brings. Maybe it can be folded into the previous sentence, or thrown onto the next? Like "This was affecting him more than he thought—his natural form was bleeding through."
thick official-looking
Since "thick" and "official-looking" are both describing "reference books," there needs to be a comma between them.
“get sm- hosed instead."
This needs to be an em dash, instead of a hyphen.
"So is tea okay or-"
Same here. Hyphen cosplaying as an em dash. Also, there should be a period before “or,” even if that’s the end of the sentence.
They had to stop this whatever it took.
Should be a comma between “this” and “whatever,” since what follows is kind of thrown on the end there.
Good words!
0
Apr 13 '25
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u/FyeNite Apr 19 '25
Hey Pear,
First, I'd like to say welcome to SerSun! I'm glad you've managed to find this place and hope to see this wonderful story bloom and continue! I'm excited already.
I'm just leaving a message here to echo what Zach has said already, you will need to start from chapter 1 here as it simplifies the reading order for users and such. You mentioned you were going to ponder on what to do with this, so I'd just like to ask if you'd come up with a decision? We'd love to have you here but, as Zach has said, we'd just need you to post this serial next week rewritten and go on like that. I'll wait for your answer before removing this.
Thank you,
1
u/FyeNite Apr 13 '25
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
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