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Crissy Moss
Good things come to those who wait... but I'm not going to just wait
Good things come to those who wait... but I'm not going to just wait
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It's Monday, but I wanted to do a #saturdayscenes entry. I haven't done one in ages, but now that I'm getting close to finishing the new book, Dragon's Blood, I think it's time to start sharing it a little.

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Cold or not, I continued my training the next day. Even with Ayrula’s clothing I was still shivering, but working alongside Mykul, learning not to fall to his tricks, kept me warm.

The days had grown shorter, so we rose before the sun crested over the horizon, and trudged out into the grasslands to spar. Though the wind howled, and the cold bit into my flesh I kept practicing. The discomfort I felt now was better than an ifrit’s claws in my gut later.

The dagger had become a part of me. Not a part of me as a hand, or a foot, but rather an extension of my arm. When I swung the blade around before me I knew where the tip would go. When I jabbed left at the moving target I was able to stab into it.

I lacked the finesse or beauty of a true sword dancer, but I could aim, and attack. It was a practical weapon, a last ditch item that could keep me safe in dire need, not a trade to earn a living at.

“Thank you,” I said, bowing low to Mykul one morning after our sparring. “I almost feel like I could stand up to Orin. Almost.”

He turned with a little smile and shrugged as he wrapped a loose cloak around himself.

“I did very little,” Mykul said. “You’re the one that practiced, and worked hard at this.~ Had you been complacent then all of this would have meant nothing.”
“It was you’re idea, though. I wouldn’t have sought out a dagger. Even if I can’t fight her, at least I’ll feel safer in a dark alley now.”

“Don’t get too courageous,” he said, giving me a friendly tap on the arm with the flat side of his blade. “I don’t want to end up scrapping pieces of you off the cobblestone because you went around tempting the fate of the dragons.”

I pulled the blade back, circling the tip in the air in front of me.

“Do dragon’s really care what fate I might have?”

“You never know,” he said with a chuckle. “Why risk it?”

He was right. The dragons didn’t seem interested in us once creation had been set aside, but why tempt fate?

I picked up the cloak Ayrula had given me and threw it on. It was made from a thick wool that buttoned up in the front, and had slits in the side where I could slip my hands out if needed. Not practical for swordplay, but far better than going without when hiking along beside the caravan.

But the idea of the dark alley came back to mind, even as we walked back toward the relative peacefulness of the caravan. Would I really be able to do handle myself then? Surely there would be the opportunity to test myself in a big city like Kemore. And if I lost would I survive?

“Have you ever lost?” I asked Mykul.

“Of course I’ve lost,” he said. “Everyone loses at one time or another. The point isn’t to win every battle, the point is to be alive at the end of it. Sometimes that means letting them knock you down, and staying down. Sometimes it means running away. And sometimes it means the only thing you can do is keep hitting until they stop moving, because you know if they get up again you won’t.”

His eyes had become deadly serious on that last bit. I could tell without asking that he had been on the winning side of that fight. I could also see the scar the battle had left on him, the edge that wouldn’t go away. He might have won the battle and saved his own life, but there had been a cost.

Could I do that if I needed to? I didn’t want to find out. Better to learn the skills I needed so that I could avoid that sort of situation.

As if in response to the dark thoughts in my head, a black shape zoomed out of the grass, smashing into my chest. I fell to the ground, a mass of claws and teeth trying to reach my face. I could feel the sharp stabs biting into my shoulders, and cutting into my forearms as I tried to fend of the brute. My dagger was useless with the creature already on top of me, and I had no way to keep it from ripping out my throat other than my frantic movements.

I screamed! All the fear I had been dealing with since my mother death struck, and I lashed out against the ifrit.

Fire erupted around me, bathing me in glorious heat. The world was on fire, and I was its master!

Time seemed to slow around me as the flames consumed me. It danced along my skin, rippling up along my body, and striking out at the creature attacking me.

The screams broke into my ecstasy, and I blinked away the flames, concentrating on the world outside the haze of red and orange. Mykul! He was on fire, too. He waved his burning arms around, trying to put out the flames. But not all of the screams had come from him. The small ball laying on the ground in front of him was emitting a high pitched scream that pierced through my eardrums. The ifrit was no longer on fire, but smoke rose off his blackened skin.

The shock of seeing my friend and the little ifrit in such pain was enough to snap me out of it, and the fire extinguished itself in the blink of an eye.

A shape barreled into Mykul, carrying him into the stream and dousing the flames before I could move. I looked down and saw Edwum patting Mykul down, and making sure every last flame was out.

Horrified, I ran to Yula. The tiny creature was curled into a ball, his skin a mottled mass of black ichor.

*
#amwriting #amwritingfantasy #Dragons #magic #sorceress


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DM to me-- Your undead, and a vampire spawn now, beholden to Straud. Go get the raven amulet. Roll at disadvantage.

I roll double crits for the first time ever... And totally screw over my party.

But I'm a vampire, what do I care about those feeble mortals. 
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Playing a little Dungeon at work today. 
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2017, what I'm working toward this year.

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Just letting people know they can get this...

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All the books for Christmas/December

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