Christopher Keene's Blog, page 6

Wrapping the year up with the Full-Wrap

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So . . . Where Were We?

[image error]So what happened?

2017 turned out to be the busiest year of my life. Turns out writing books is nowhere near as difficult as getting those books to a publishable quality. I would know, I’ve been preparing 4 books for publication for 2018.

In January, my first adult fantasy book will be a published (see cover below). In February, the third book in my LitRPG series, Dream State Saga, will be released with endorsements from several of the biggest writers in the genre. In that very same month, my contract for my young adult urban fantasy kicks in and I will be going through extensive edits for that book and I can only pray that my tabletop inspired book will go through its final edits for release later this year afterward.

So why am I posting this now? Well, the first 2 books on that list aren’t far away from being complete and will be released in the next two month, and I finally have a little time to step back and update this dinosaur. Starting in January, I’ll be writing a few more posts including a year summary of all the media I’ve been enjoying along with more announcements and a few reviews when I get through behemoth’s of media I’ve been tackling (*cough* Oathbringer *cough* Hunter x Hunter *cough*).

I’ll also be posting some interviews done for my book and collaborations.

To put it in more simple terms…[image error]

Final Cover Art Reveal

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Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: Objective/Subjective Dualism

[image error]I just finished reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Persig in which the main character pretty much goes insane due to his belief that ‘quality’ is the source of both the subjective and objective world because, by the example he gives, quality is determined by a consensus, therefore it must exist outside of the mind. This conclusion left me frustrated and the rest of the book contains mostly philosophy that attempts to justify this claim and elaborate its meaning when simple evolutionary psychology could have easily put his mind at ease.

Here’s a complete outline:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pirsig%27s_metaphysics_of_Quality

The problem is that he was attempting to use this ‘quality’ idea to bridge the divisive structure of subjective/objective or mind/matter dualism. I never thought the idea of subjective/objective as a dichotomy was ever very convincing but one doesn’t need an end-all and be-all term to solve the issue. All one has to do to understand this is to reconcile these ideas that the mind is the result of matter, simply via the brain and sensory organs.

The issues Persig thought contradicted the dualism and justified his idea of quality being its predecessor was that consensus existed that justified quality being more than subjective. Even at a passing glance, this seems nonsense. If the brain is the source of subjective quality then a consensus just means that enough brains are similar enough to share this subjective value. Because we evolved to favor things that would help us survive and reproduce, it’s not too hard to come to the conclusion of why this similar views and values might exist.

Simply sit a human being down in a room and fill it with flies. Because they are agitating, loud and we have no value for them, the mass-subjective consensus if you asked them how the room was would be that it was a bad room because of all the flies. Now sit a fly eating reptile in that room and suddenly there will a different consensus because the reptiles values have evolved differently than ours. This brings me to the final point. Most of the philosophy he uses to pack up his points are the same backward ideas that arrogantly separate humans from the animal kingdom, completely ignoring the physical implications of why this consensus exists or how it came to be.

The fact that this line of thinking led to a nervous breakdown shows that the foundation of this philosophy is outdated in consideration to the implication of scientific discoveries and the cost of this. If the protagonist had figured this out instead of going down the 2deep4u rabbit whole of Aristotelian philosophy, maybe the book would have kept my interest. If anything, he is a testament of the consequences of scientific ignorance.

Running with the Reaper

It wasn’t a nightmare. There was no vision or sounds that I could remember. There was just a strong claustrophobic feeling and a thick fog that surrounded me, impeding me. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, all I could do was feel the heavy drumming in my chest. An object poked at me from the darkness and I tried to pull back from it but something soft pushed at the back of my head.

I awoke in the darkness, heart pounding. Sitting up, the world appeared to spin around me as a cold sweat ran down my temples. This had happened before but it had never been this intense. I felt like I was going to faint. Wiping the sweat from my face, I rolled over and groaned when seeing what time it was. Five in the morning, even if I could calm my racing heart, it would only give me another one or two hours sleep before I would have to get up to go to work.

I pulled the damp blankets off me and sat up, swinging my slimy legs off the side of the bed. The rush of blood that pounded through my head was nearly enough to knock me out. Although adjusted to the darkness, my blurry vision narrowed to a pinprick before widening again as my heart thudded to fight the pull of gravity.

It’s just another panic attack, I screamed at myself when I couldn’t slow my pounding skull. My sleeping anxiety was as much of a mystery to me as it was to my doctor. After the burst of panic faded, I was usually relieved when I could recall the nightmare that caused it. At least then it would’ve made sense. No such luck this time. I couldn’t remember the nightmare, it was just a rude awakening followed by a chest murmur and the dread that I might have a heart condition.

Sighing and trying to take deep breaths, I shook my head. There was only one thing to be done about it. I bent and fished about for my clothes from the previous day that were still on the floor, my bulging gut making me hold my breath. It felt like I was trying to fold a beach ball. I shoved my legs through the stubborn material of my suit pants one at a time. After sweating so much, I would need a shower before work, meaning I wouldn’t be wearing them today anyway.

Rising, I pocketed my keys and strode to the door of my studio apartment. The cool night air outside made me sigh in relief, the breeze coming in off the ocean would make it a pleasant stroll. Putting one foot in front of another, I strode down the hill towards the park. A single lap would be enough to calm me.

Across the road was a young man in a hoodie hauling a large backpack up the hill. I figured he was simply returning home after a night shift somewhere in town. Still, when he crossed the road before passing me, I tried to avoid his eyes. Young men could be like dogs, give them anything, even brief eye contact, and they could take it as an insult to bring up whatever bitterness they were dwelling on at the time.

It was stupid, I knew, a paranoia that I assumed drew inspiration from the same place of creativity as whatever had woken me. Still, my shoulders lowered as the hooded man crossed paths with me without incident. Of course, without incident. Even if a mugging had been his plan, he would’ve been left sorely disappointed with just my keys on me. This still didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder to make sure he kept walking.

The gentle incline led down to the city park. It was the hill I climbed every day easily enough, but after a half an hour trek, I would end up panting like I had just climbed Mt. Cook. Even now, the sweat was drying on my forehead and I could already predict my uncomfortable exhaustion when I dragged myself home again.

Spotting the park ahead, the rising sunset appeared to take away the brightness of the park lights. Dawn always destroyed my vision. The lamps were crossed with their gleams, the shadows of the bushes only gaining shapes out of the corner of my eyes, and everything that moved seemed to be something else. Yet, there was movement in the park, a lot of movement, and it wasn’t just from the wind.

There were quite a few people walking or jogging down the outer pathways. Maybe my panic attack had struck me later than usual but I was sure there weren’t always so many joggers doing a morning lap.

I moved to the fence and through the open gate that sectioned off the park and started down the pathway. Leaves rustled when swayed in the breeze. I patted at my pocket, regretting that I had forgotten to bring my MP3 so I could listen to the audiobook I was halfway through. Not listening to it during a stroll seemed to me like wasted effort.

I was just about to turn back up the hill to go get it when I saw a man in a blue shirt and shorts jogging up to meet me. I noticed the big grin on his familiar face, forehead plastered with his damp hair.

“Hey there Gary, getting in a walk before work?” he asked.

I nodded to my office neighbour. “Mark, I didn’t know you jogged in the morning.”

“And I didn’t know you were such an early riser.” Mark slowed to a stop in front of me. “There are a few people here, so why not? Looks like their Grim Reapers are being pushy this morning.”

“Grim Reapers?”

Mark shrugged. “Everyone here’s got death on their tail, Gary. Got to outrun the reaper before he catches you. Good luck.”

He jogged off and I continued my walk, but his statement had confused me. I shrugged. I didn’t really need an audiobook and what Mark had said stirred something deep inside of me. I had tried jogging a few years back. It didn’t last long, the strain had destroyed my ankles and I didn’t want to buy proper running shoes to continue, but during that time I’d slept like a baby.

Experience told me there was a direct link between how much my anxiety affected my sleep and how much exercise I got. That and the amount of sugar I ate before bed. From the small amount I knew of human biology, it appeared to be linked with high blood pressure and the unused energy I’d go to sleep with. As always, it made me paranoid that I had the beginnings of a cardiovascular disease.

I listened to my heartbeat, slowly regulating with the exercise. It felt good, calming. It was something to do with breathing and brainwaves. A doctor had tried to explain it to me but I could never remember all the details.

The thought brought me back to what Mark had said. The more I walked, the less anxiety I felt, the less anxiety I felt, the less I worried about my blood pressure or having a heart condition, and the less I worried I was about a heart condition, the less I felt like I was going to die. It was the Grim Reaper, as Mark had put it, that I was walking in fear of. The slower I walked, the more it caught up, the less I walked, the firmer its grip on my shoulder.

Despite being active in the cool air, the fog crept back into my mind. The feeling compelled me to start jogging, first clumsily but then persistently. I knew my body wasn’t used to it but muscle memory from years back allowed me to keep a conservative rhythm. It took me less than a minute to lose my breath and less than five before my legs felt like they were full of water. I continued, determined not to let the ache win. My jaw cracked wide to allow me to gasp in more air.

Rimu trees passed me, the cool air seemed hot and humid and the tui calls became louder as I saw myself approaching two female walkers from the rear. I decided to stop before I reached them, not wanting them to have a front-row seat of my fruitless struggle to keep up this torturous charade.

My lungs were hot, my head was swimming, and I was just about to slow my feet when a vivid and horrifying image appeared in my head. The wraith-like figure of the Grim Reaper was behind me, its skull head grinning over my shoulder, its hand reaching out to grab me. The same imagination that had roused me from a deep sleep, the same creative curse that made me think the hooded young man was going to mug me, returned and made the image feel as real as the cold panic that filled me.

Fear kept me going, made me speed up, trying to outrun the thing, but I couldn’t outrun the idea of the reaper chasing me. It was a game of tag I knew I was going to lose. Maybe if I did this once every few days, or even once a week, I wouldn’t have been in so much pain. Yet I knew what this pain really was, the tightness in my body that made my heart race, my lungs compress, and my muscles strain until I could barely move was merely the grip of the reaper’s hand around my body.

I struggled to fight its grip, but with every step, the hand seemed to grow tighter. My movements became jerkier, and when I passed another pair of walkers, they stared in confusion at my horror-stricken expression. Behind them, I could see their reapers catching up with them also. Why weren’t they running? Didn’t they know that death was on their heels?

Their wraith-like figures each raised a bony hand and waved cheerfully to my own. I whimpered and I thought I heard evil laughter behind me, as though it knew it was only a matter of time before I ran out energy and the agony I was in demand that I stop. The pain had become unbearable and I was starting to think maybe death wouldn’t be such a bad thing, just to put me out of my misery. I wasn’t a religious man, but even I couldn’t imagine hell being as bad as this.

I finally slowed and my hands fell limply to my sides before I leaned over and placed them on my knees, sweat pouring down my face and tears blurring my vision. My heart, my leg muscles, and even my stomach felt like they had been rubbed raw. My lungs, in particular, felt like bellows in a forge.

There was a rustle in the trees and I jumped when I heard the reaper’s laughter once again, but it was distant this time, above me. I looked up and saw… a flock of ducks? It sure sounded like they were laughing.

I coughed, feeling like I was going to vomit. I didn’t know if I could move. Nevertheless, I tried, like how I started, one foot in front of another. As my breathing calmed to my regular walking pace, I felt myself coming back to my senses. Not only that, but the fog that once surrounded my mind seemed to have cleared, as though burned away, and the tightness I felt in my chest was gone. It was strange. Its absence was the only thing that had allowed me to notice that it had been there at all.

The reaper’s grip had loosened, if only a little bit. I felt good, better than good. A little excruciating pain and I felt like I could sleep until lunchtime each day of the week without a single heart murmur or panic attack. It was breath-taking that I didn’t do this more often. Wasn’t a little pain worth not having the reaper on your back? I shook my head as I continued my lap of the park, realizing how long it had been since I had felt like this.

The red morning sky was silhouetted by the thick shadows under the trees and the calling birds sang out even louder by the time I finished my lap. I tried to run back to the park gates,  just to see if I could. I failed, but with a more reachable goal in mind, a soft jog wasn’t out of the question. I passed through the open gate and staggered onto the footpath, squinting up the hill. I thought climbing it after a walk would be hard but now it didn’t seem so steep.

I spat the hot phlegm that had risen in my throat and straightened, eager for a shower. I climbed the hill in long strides, trying to stretch out the muscles that felt like they hadn’t been used in years. Feeling like I had been away for hours when I opened the door and walked into my room, I was surprised to see that it was just over quarter past five.

Of course, only fifteen minutes had passed, I had run nearly the entire lap of the park, my half an hour walk cut in half thanks to the reaper chasing me. I laid back down on my bed and had a small nap, the darkness of sleep hitting me as soon as my head hit the pillow. I awoke the second time at the sound of my alarm.

If it weren’t for the fact that I was still dressed in my clothes from the previous day, running with the reaper could have easily just been another dream. I stood up to go take a shower and get ready for work.

What is GameLit?

[image error]Here’s my best attempt at explaining it but you’ll get more information here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/GameLit/

https://www.facebook.com/groups/GameLitSociety/

Sometimes saying “No” to a publishing contract is your best option

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New Concept Art

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Chapter 6: A bit of action doesn’t make up for the last 5 Chapters being mostly exposition

Sol trembled in fear for just a moment before his instincts kicked in. He ran on the dirt track, making his way to the three-storied orphan’s residence on the second floor. Before he could even get to the stairs, a red beam of light shot through the open doors and windows of the hut. What followed were the screams and children and balls of flame that rose from windows and up the walls, blackening the plaster.

“No!”

He screamed in horror as the large eye of the cyclops looked down on him. As the glow of light filled the slit underneath its armor, something deep seemed to pull from inside him. The red light shot out in a line, ready to burn alive like it had the children. With a gasp, the pulling sensation became a push and he winced at the blast.

It doesn’t hurt, it’s warm!

Jets of heat rose up on either side of him. He opened his eyes to see that where the line hit him, it split like he was at the center of a Y. However, instead of hitting me, the beam deflected and hit the buildings in the wooden village behind. It had got right over the gap of the river. The log cabins burned quickly, the warm night wind catching at the flame and spreading it to other homes.

– ABILITY UNLOCKED: DIVIDER –

What’s happening?

I spun about, seeing the other armors, one still in the river. I had seen what the I had done, I didn’t know how I had done but, as the glow built again beneath the cyclops visor. Before it was released, I sprinted between and before two of the other armors. The building pull became a push and the beam split but then missed the two on either side, their own red lights beginning to glow.

I jumped forward, and as one of the split beams shot from me into the to left armor, making sure to hit the armor with -1 glowing his vision when he scanned it, hitting another of the cyclops in a line of fire, the third’s beam hit the second as the fourth in the river began to climb the bank. I ran toward it, trying to get the splitting of the beams to go where I want it to. I was starting to wish I had learned trigonometry with Kull, it would have come in hand right about now.

Instead, I just went I guess work, feeling the pull and then repulsion of whatever was stopping the beams from melting me where I stood. Instead one reflected off, destroying an entire row of houses across the river as another hit the leg of the armor on the high bank. The cyclops fell, toppling another series of houses and leaving only one of the monsters left standing.

Instead of launching yet another laser my way, jet boosters rocketed out behind it as it leaped up onto the top of the orphanage, collapsing it under its weight. Fire exploded as the wheels squealed at its heel and with a quick spin, the massive cyclops took off into the wasteland.

It’s going to come back with other once it’s reported what happened.

Sol looked around, exhausted and traumatized. He fell to his knees, grabbing his head with only the ashes of the children he was supposed to protect still smoldering in the collapsed hope of the village.

– SANITY -1 –

***

The fire lasted throughout the night and wasn’t fully put out until the early morning. Once the orphanage was clear and the graves for the dead were being dug for the living, Sol made his way over to the village where he was met with a rude welcome.

“It was him!” One screamed.

“He caused the beam the destroyed my house!” Another echoed.

“Where is Kull?” Sol asked as he looked the villagers surrounding him.

They were so nice, so cordial before. Now, they had let the mob take power. There was no order, no peace, only looking for someone to blame.

“I saw the beam shoot right off him into one of the houses.” One of the old women yelled, crooked finger pointing accusingly. “It’s his fault!”

They stood around him in the ruins of the village, smoke still rising from the smoldering wood.

“I don’t know what happened!” Sol looked down biting his lip. “I couldn’t control it. I loved this village. Do you really think I would have wanted this to happen to it if I could control it?”

Another old man came forward, hand resting on a cane. “Maybe you did. Maybe you always resented us for keeping you on the other side of the bridge since you were a child!”

“That was my home!” Sol called back.

“Not anymore, you’re… home.” The town leader waved to ruins of orphanage and bridge destroyed bridge. “It’s gone now and so should you be!”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands and shook his head. “I’ll you folk some time to cool your heads.”

He was not going to relent. He would return for his stuff once he came back. Many of the village children had been caught in the blaze, the orphanage children making friends to the point that they were babysitting most of the next generation. Sol didn’t want to admit it, but with Kull and the children gone, this town had no future.

He had to go get his stuff he had left in the woods anyway. He turned from the mob and felt a rock hit his back as he left.

Behind him, he heard on the other old ladies call, “And don’t come back or we’ll hang yee!”

– RESPECT -1 –

I didn’t take him long to return to the shade of the trees. He crossed the river to get to where he had set up his camp. When he heard someone rustling around nearby. He approached cautiously, edging around the veil of bushes before coming to where his camp was and now was girl eating his tried fish kebabs.

“Hello?”

The woman shot to her feet and poked one skewer at him as though it were a weapon. “Back, thief! Back !”

A sudden outrage filled Sol. “I’m the thief? you’re eating the foot from my backpack!”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “How do I know it’s yours, this pack could belong to anyone!”

Sol raised his palms. “I don’t know. I guess I could list every single item in the bag. Unless you believe in psychics, I think that would be a pretty reliable way of proving my claim to it. But then that would make you that thief, wouldn’t it?”

The woman looked at the pack and then him, and then dropped it. “What do you want?”

“I just came to get my pack after being thrown out of my village, and now I have to deal with a thief.” He raised his palms, looking at the skinny girl. “But I suppose you wouldn’t be a thief if I offered to share my foot with you.”

The girl stuffed the last bit of meat from the skewer in her mouth and nodded, sitting down again.

I came and sat with her across the dead fire.

“You’re very kind.” She bit into another shishkebab ravenously. “I was starving.”

Sol eyed her. Despite her nice clothing, she looked roughed up. “So, who are you?”

She slowed down and looked up, as though feeling his eyes on her. “My name is Tessa Belle, I’m only a scavenger.”

Many things became clear to him when hearing this.

“A scavenger? You saw the armors coming this way. Five armors… a small town… you knew what was going to happen and you came like a vulture to see what you could find.” He grinned her rough clothing made sense to her. “And then you got lost in the forest.”

She swallowed. “Why do you think that?”

“Your clothes.” He looked over her shiny +1 waterproof garments. “You’re from the outer rim, meaning you wouldn’t lack for money. The only reason you would be so hungry was if you left whatever machine you  used to get here and lost your path on the way to my village.”

Tessa used the kebab stick to pick at her teeth. “Perceptive aren’t you.”

He nodded. “Exceedingly.”

“Not very humble though.” She seemed to study him this time. “And you were from the village.”

“And?”

“Don’t suppose you’d show me through the forest to your town?”

The gall of this one.

“I’m afraid not. After the attack, they have formed a mob trying to find anyone they cannot in an armor to blame. They will more as likely kill you just for coming back with me. I can’t even get my stuff from there.”

“Then you’re not very useful…” Tessa paused and smiled hellishly. “Wait, you said anyone not in an armor?”

I lifted a brow at her. “That’s right.”

“Well then, you show me out of this forest and I’ll show you my armor.”

Chapter 5: Introducing your main character in Chapter 5 might be a bit too late

The painting does resemble her a little, but there’s something missing.

Heron Soloman, or Honest Sol as the orphans called him, was no painter. He had failed to capture how the light caught her copper hair, which used to turn it a fiery orange. He continued to tinker with it, the second layer of paint making parts better but others much worse. It was late in the afternoon by the time he was finished and even then he wasn’t satisfied. Still, he felt he’d done a better job than last time he had tried to capture her face.

He had thought that each time he tried, it would bring focus to his vision so he would stop seeing the glowing script that always appeared there.

– PAINTING +1 –

Painting plus one? Damn it, if I’m going insane enough to start seeing things why couldn’t it have been something useful?

Fortunately, Kull sent one of his boys to fetch him for a job before he could dwell on it too much. He turned at a knock on his doorframe.

“Sol, Kull wants you, can you come,” one of the little shits said.

Sol nodded. He always ran shopping errands for Kull whenever he needed to pick something out. Kull always said that he had an eye for a quality product but he only used the quality measurement in his vision to determine what he should choose.

In the beginning, Sol thought it was normal to see the letters in his vision whenever he focused on something, but after asking the other kids about it, they had teased him and told him he should walk into the wasteland like the mutants.

Being one of the older kids at the orphanage, Kull had been the only one to believe him about his visions and made sure he knew what direction to point his eyes in a way that would be most useful for the orphanage.

“Is he in the burrows?” he asked the skinnier of the children.

The younger child nodded. “I’m to bring you.”

Although he and Kull were the only ones left of the generation that came after Garildine the war to have remained, the place was almost unrecognizable after everything Kull had done to the place. There were enough huts to house almost every child and even large halls to hold assemblies, meals and even lessons.

Many had been taken by the army during the draft but Kull had hidden him, hissing that he needed him as he hid him beneath the floorboards. Sol had only assumed that he had done the same for Mika already, but after the recruiters were gone, so was she. None of them had returned to tell their tale after the armors were sent to deal with them.

He walked outside and smiled as the warm light hit his face. He enjoyed following Kull’s orders, it made him feel useful and, as long as he didn’t tell anyone how he found the best product, normal. Unlike the rest of the village that had been built up with logs from the surrounding woods, the entire area after the bridge seemed to be made of huts from the stone, clay, and plaster. He moved across the track toward the narrow stairs leading up to a third floor.

Kull’s own residence was above the main rooms of the orphanage’s hub. Despite a number of kids running around freely, he gave those willing to sit and learn education, those who were cold, clothes, and those who were hungry, food, to the point that the whole place was run like a well-oiled machine. The irony on this idea rubbed him the wrong way considering what was sacrificed after the armors came and took their most valuable human resources, the other young men and women.

Sol climbed the stairs on the heels of the skinny kid who had come for him. They both walked in to find Kull scanning over what looked to be a map and bunch of papers. Sol couldn’t read, but Kull had somehow managed to teach himself and held classes on reading and writing in the foundation huts.

“Ah, Sol, where have you been hiding?” He turned with a smile on his face. “I’ve been forced to run this place by myself.”

Although only in his late twenties, Kull’s long hair had long gone gray, as though hiding the stress of running the orphanage was coming out in other ways. He wore spectacles that almost hid his blues like his smile hit the pressure he was under.

“The fact that you had this kid find me shows me you know where I was.”

Kull looked to the skinny orphan. “Alright Toby, go downstairs and tell the matron that I’ve allowed you a large lunch for running my errand. If she doesn’t believe you, tell her to climb the stairs and ask me for herself.” He gave Sol a sly grin. “The walk will do her some good.”

The boy scampered off, leaving the two of them.

“You know, you’ve probably set that boy up for a spanking.”

Kull shrugged. “I’ll give the matron a spanking myself if she does. I need that child more than I need her.”

“I never thought one child was so important to you.”

“They all are, Sol, this is an orphanage after all.” He laughed. “Still, a single child is replaceable, a single fate woman is replaceable. You, on the other hand, are irreplaceable.”

Sol rubbed his head. “Get on with, Kull, do you want me to go to the market again or what?”

Kull’s gaze focused on his gaze. “In short, Sol, I want you to trust me.”

He rolled his wrists “And the long?”

“I want you to hike into the forest during the night and not come back until morning.”

Sol raised an eyebrow. “You want me to go camping in the woods, why?”

Kull grinned his wry grin again and Sol nodded.

“Alright, alright, trust you, I get ya. Okay fine, you’ve kind of forced this on me but I guess, for the sake of our partnership, I won’t ask questions and go camping tonight.” Sol turned to leave. “I’ll set off as soon as I’m ready.”

Kull’s gaze became fierce again. “Before twilight.”

“Why shou—” Sol was about to say but then stopped and nodded. “Alright, alright, I’ll be out by then. But you have to promise me that you’ll explain why when I get back. I trust you and all, but an explanation would go a long way.”

Kull nodded. “The next time we meet, I promise.”

Sol nodded and exited the clay hut, feeling slightly suspicious with the way his friend had lowered his voice when saying that. As soon as he made his way back down the stairs to the ground level, more glowing text appeared in his vision.

– AFFABILITY +1 –

– SKEPTICISM -1 –

Minus one skepticism? Son of a bitch! Why do you need to point out the obvious? It doesn’t mean anything! Why don’t you show me how good I am at climbing downstairs while you’re at it.

Returning to his hut to get ready, he checked his few possessions. He had enough chips to buy the food he needed for the night, and if not, he could always snare himself a rabbit, the forest was packed with the pests feeding off the Daridin crops. He had lost track of time while painting and he didn’t know how close twilight was by the time he was packed and ready to leave.

He decided to check out the village before entering the woods. It was getting darker by the time he crossed the massive bridge. The stores were still open, although children from either side of the bridge didn’t mingle, the adults themselves must have liked the jobs the older generation had been doing for the old ladies running the shops were very jovial.

“Why of course, we will give a good price for anything to you need,” she said, her tone rasping like most people in the village.

He ended up getting some skewers of dried meat, the ones that were +2 protein, not +1 and several apples and other drift fruit. The +3 fiber would be extra handy when doing his business in the woods. His food for the night sorted, he had more than he needed in one night, a veritable feast, he slung his rucksack over his shoulder and headed toward the trees. It was really something leaving the light of the village for the darkness of the woods.

As he walked among the tall perches, he pulled out a lantern and lit it with a flint. However, after the lantern bumped into a few branches above him, he decided to put it away and just let his eyes adjust to the darkness over the next few hours. He was just getting the feel of the forest under his boots when he started to make out the clearing he had camped in with his friends when he was younger. Back when the whole team was together.

Sol went about finding a log to drag into the clearing to sit on. In the heat, a dead tree was commonplace among the woods. As he did so, he heard a soft rumbling in the distance. Ignoring it, he decided to get a fire going, finding enough rocks to keep it contained. The stars shone in the night like a scattering of sand from a beach made entirely of silver.

He looked up as the quality +1 kindling he’d gathered began to catch and smoke rose into the sky. He froze in confusion for a moment. A few of the tall silhouettes in the night were moving just like the smoke made from his own fire. It rose, thick as a cloud above the trees in the distance, appearing to cover the entire night sky in the distance. That when he heard screams on the wind.

Wait, that’s in the direction of the orphanage!

“No!”

He jumped to his feet, not thinking to pick up his supplies as he rushed toward the lines of smoke. With his eyes having just adjusted to the fire, he was running blindly into the woods. Arms outstretched, he couldn’t help but knock into a few trees, however, his mind was awash with both panic and suspicion.

Why did Kull say tell me to camp in the forest tonight? Did he know this was going to happen? If so, why just me?

Sol then remembered what Kull had said to him before he had asked him about staying out of the village.

“You, on the other hand, you are irreplaceable.”

Is that why he sent me out? Because he thinks I’m too valuable to lose? But why wouldn’t he tell anyone else? He loves all the children at the orphanage more than anyone. Surely, he would’ve told some of them to leave if something was going to happen.

He jumped in and waded across the shallow river, climbed the bank, and burst of the trees on the other side of the bank, sweating and panting. The bridge was blown, blood soaked the dirt tracks and fire was everywhere, the entire orphanage was engulfed in carnage and in the center of the burning huts were five cyclopses of silver and red.