#Gwendolyn Garth

[play-bills]

Marking Time, Arts in the age of mass incarceration (with Jared Owens, George Anthony Morton, Gwendolyn Garth, Keith Calhoun and Chandra McCormick, Russell Craig, Mark Loughney, Gilberto Rivera, Sable Elyse Smith and Larry Cook), Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Harlem NY (May 1 - December 4, 2023)

[dorksndisasters]

One Shot; Musical Morels

oh hey lads, what the heck is up??

Apparently I never shared this when I wrote it, which is a crying shame but hey, here we are now

It features an entirely different crew from the usual because @sprokat was the DM so I got to play!

##

 The five of them – Razmatazz, Mhaja, Garth, Aneirin, and Aonara – amble along the path along the outskirts of the woods. They’re a few days walk away from the town where they’d helped Finethir, finally having decided to continue on their way.

 Mhaja has wandered off the path to inspect plants at the edge of the forest, only vaguely keeping track of the others.

 As they walk along, they come across a brightly coloured cart at the edge of the road, seemingly abandoned until they see the woman slumped on the road and leaning against the wheel. She’s muttering to herself, wringing her hands as she peers under the cart and across the road.

 At their approach, she looks up and waves them over. “Maybe you can help me? My name is Gwendolyn.” She gets back to her feet and brushes the dust from her skirts.

 “Why yes, of course!” Garth says, smiling.

 “Hey Gwendolyn.” Aonara waves. “What seems to be the problem?”

 “Oh, the singers of my choir have gone missing. We stopped for lunch and I looked away, and they just wandered away.” She turns to squint along the path, as if she’ll suddenly spot them there. “They’re campestris, they’re harmless and very friendly. I’m worried they might have wandered into some kind of danger.”

 “So you… want us to take their place and do the singing for you?” Mhaja asks, wandering across to the group.  

 Gwendolyn looks at Mhaja with something like horror on her face. “No! My campestris are irreplaceable. I would like you to find them.”

 “They’re – they’re the wee mushrooms, aren’t they?” Aonara asks, and gestures with her hands to demonstrate how small she means.

 “Yes. They’re like family to me.” She looks back at the cart and rests a hand against its side. “I can’t leave the cart alone, but if you could look for them, we’ll give you a special concert.”

 “Of course we’ll help,” Aneirin says. “They sound like jolly little fellows that should be protected at all costs because they give joy to many.” He nods. “Let’s accept this challenge and go find these Campestris.”

 Gwendolyn brightens up. “Oh, thank you!”

 “Where did you last see them?”

 “They were just on the cart, and I looked away for a moment.” She looks back down the road in the direction she’d come from. “They might be nearby, if you’d like to search down the road, or perhaps into the forest? They love to mimic, and they will join in a song if they hear one.”

 Aneirin nods and sets off walking. As he walks away, he starts to belt out words in a way that could only generously be called singing. Mostly it is loud and the words are sometimes drawn out over several pitches, which he bounces between with no apparent rhyme nor reason.

 Razmatazz tugs his hat down over his large ears and hurries to keep up with the rest as they follow Aneirin.

 Nothing joins in with Aneirin’s raucous noise, but the party notice a man crouched down by the side of the road. He’s got a drawstring sack in his hands that he appears to be fighting to get closed as something in it struggles against him.

 He pulls it shut and grips it tight as he stands. It writhes before him as he holds it at arm’s length.

 Aonara gasps. “It’s the mushrooms,” she whispers.

 Aneirin calls out to him. “Hello! I believe that bag has something that we are looking for, maybe. Can you tell us what you have in that bag there?”

 “What does it matter to you?” the man asks. “I’m just a man, out walking here.”

 “’Cause you’re a mushroom thief!” Aonara replies.

 “I’m just going to my house! There’s nothing to be suspicious of here.”

 “’Cept for the squirming mushrooms in your bag.”

 “I don’t have to tell you anything.” The man narrows his eyes and then shakes his head, waving a hand as if he’s shooing them away. “There’s nothing in the bag of any use to you, so why does it matter?” He swings the bag over his shoulder.

 “I’m terribly sorry, my good friend,” Garth says. “Forgive my friend here, he is just very forthright. We have been hired to help find some things that someone has lost, and we’re just on the lookout for anything that could be related. We don’t want any trouble, but if we could just check that and make sure that it is indeed not the items that we are seeking, we’ll be on our way.”

 The man considers Garth. “Ok. Well, to be honest with you, I know exactly what these are. They’re campestris. I’m taking them home, to my restaurant, and I’m going to preserve them in a jar to sell to a customer.”

 “You’re a chef?” Razmatazz asks.

 Aonara gasps in horror.

 “I’m going to use them for the next very special customer that comes in,” He rubs his fingers together, winking, “So that my restaurant will gain renown.” He pats the bag. “I’ve heard they’re very flavourful.”

 “Well, you – you see, our client – technically, those belong to our client, so what you’re doing is thievery and also well… yeah, basically you’re stealing someone else’s stuff, so-”

 “Well – look,” the man says, sighing. “They were just in the road, I don’t see the problem with picking mushrooms up in the middle of the road. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” He backs up from the group to turn away.

 “It’s obviously squirming, they don’t want to go with you,” Garth says.

 “They’re fine! They’re-”

 “Mushrooms are friends,” Aonara says. “Not food.”

 Razmatazz tilts his head, wavering a hand almost as if he wants to disagree with her. “Hm.”

 “They’re tasty, they’re good food.” The man scoffs at her. “And I need them to impress my customers. They’re very rare. Practically a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that’s landed on me here.”

 “Can I… offer you a trade for the mushrooms?” Aonara asks. “I’ll give you-” She pauses to count through her coin pouch.

 “Non-sentient mushrooms?” Razmatazz pipes up.

 “Ten gold pieces.” Aonara picks out the coins.

 The man snorts. “Well… considering how much you want these mushrooms, I think they’re worth more than ten gold pieces.”

 Aonara looks into her pouch. “What about eleven gold pieces?”

 He laughs at her. “You’re really getting on my nerves now. I’m going to go, before you try anything else.”

 “Well here’s the thing,” Garth says, stepping forward as if to stop him. “Since they’re mushrooms, they can grow, yes? So instead of cooking up these paltry few right here and now, surely it would make more sense to go into a deal with the owner of them and they could make more of them?”

 “Cultivate the mushrooms.” Aonara nods.

 “Yeah, cultivate them!” Garth gestures at Aonara. “In the long term, this is – this would be a waste, don’t you think?”

 The man sighs and rolls his eyes. “This is a waste of my time!”

Mhaja, who’s been standing behind the others this whole time, shifts as if to walk forward. Razmatazz looks up at her, adjusting their hat so they can see.

 Mhaja stops and studies her hands. “That wouldn’t be very nice,” she says to herself. “Never mind.”

 “Consequences are a bitch,” Razmatazz agrees.

 Garth is continuing on his proposal about cultivating the mushrooms rather than preserving only these few.

 Aonara circles around while the man’s attention is still on Garth. Mhaja joins the conversation, hands behind her back, but the man pays her only passing attention.

 Aonara cuts a slit in the sack on the man’s back and tumbles the campestris into a waiting bag of her own. With them safe in her arms, she runs away, back towards where Gwendolyn waits with her cart.

 Aneirin coughs meaningfully at Garth, jerking his head away.

 Garth nods and finishes his pitch with, “But ultimately it is up to you what you do. But please, don’t hesitate to consider my proposal,” and shakes the man’s hand. Then he turns and strides down the road with Aneirin beside him.

 Mhaja and Razmatazz follow after them, Raz having to half run to keep up with everyone’s fast pace.

#

“We have your campestris!” Aonara calls, running down the road. “Here!” She holds out the sack in her arms.

 “Oh!” Gwendolyn straightens up. “How marvellous!” She opens the sack and out jump two tall yellow mushrooms.

 They stand on the back of the cart and tremble a little, soothing as Gwendolyn strokes their caps.

 “These are the sopranos.” Gwendolyn whistles a few notes at them, and the campestris echo them back at her. “What about the others? Have you had any luck finding the rest of my choir?”

 “Afraid not, it’s just those ones we’ve found so far,” Garth says. “They were just down the road.” He hesitates. “Keep… keep an eye out for an angry chef.”

 “I decided not to electrocute him.” Mhaja glances back. “But that might have slowed him down.”

 “Why would you electrocute him?” Gwendolyn asks, looking slightly horrified. “He could have had information about the rest of my choir.”

 “Just to incapacitate him.” Mhaja shrugs. “To see what it does to humans.”

 “For research,” Razmatazz says.

 “But we didn’t actually do that, so we could go back and see if he has any information,” Aonara says, giving Mhaja a hard stare.

 “I’m going to look into the forest,” Mhaja says.

 “If you want to do that while we go back and talk to the chef?” Aonara suggests. “And we’ll meet up after.”

 “Yeah, ok.” Mhaja nods.

 She wanders off, singing a song about making bacon pancakes.

 “I will go with her!” Raz says. “Two pairs of eyes and all that.” He rushes to follow the singing dragonborn.

They enter the forest. By the side of the road, the grass had mostly been flattened by passing campsites or grazed short by animals. Within the forest, it grows taller until Razmatazz struggles to see anything beyond it. They rely on following Mhaja’s path and the sound of her singing.

 “Hm,” says Mhaja, stopping singing as she comes across a trail of slime that cuts through the tall grass. “Mucus-y.”

 It leads through the forest on a winding path. Mhaja follows it, pulling out a notebook and jotting down her findings as she goes.

 Razmatazz runs to catch up and hurries along in Mhaja’s path, occasionally offering their own insights on the mucus that sweeps through the grass.

#

The other three follow the path back towards where they left the chef. He’s moved further away, and is now furiously stomping about near where the river’s ford is.

 As they draw closer, they catch snatches of his furious speech. He’s ranting about stupid adventurers taking his prized mushrooms, and hasn’t seemed to notice them yet.

 Aonara slows her walk and does something to just… blend into the surroundings, slipping amongst the trees as they draw closer. “We could… run up behind him and put a bag over his head?” she suggests, as the other two slow beside her. “Ooh, or we could pick up normal mushrooms, put them in the bag and pretend they’re the same mushrooms but they died.”

 “We should make sure they’re not poisonous mushrooms, then,” Aneirin replies, and starts to forage.

 It doesn’t take him long to find a good crop of chestnut mushrooms, which he picks and places in the bag that Aonara holds out. He frowns at some of the mankier looking ones. “I don’t suppose either of you have any sort of magic to make these look like the mushrooms he’d picked up?”

 Aonara shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

 “Our magic users are off in the forest,” Garth says.

 “Should we go and find them?” Aonara hesitates. “Wait.” She glances over at the chef. “Why don’t we just…” She walks across to him. “I’m sorry about taking your bag.” She holds it out to him. “Here you go. In the chaos, the mushrooms sort of… died?”

 He swipes the bag from her hands and opens it up. He stares inside for a long time as the three of them stand there, and then slowly looks back up at Aonara. “Why do you think I’m an idiot?”

 “I can only apologise,” she says. “I thought that I was smarter than you. What we can do though, is we’ll run back and get the real mushrooms and we’ll bring them back if you just wait here for us.”

 “Why would I believe you? You’ve stolen from me, you’ve sneaked up behind me, you’ve lied to me, and you’ve given me rubbish chestnut mushrooms in place of the priceless ones that you stole!” His voice rises with each accusation. “Why would I believe anything you say?”

 “What if we can find you some chicken of the wood mushrooms?”

 “That’s not of any use! I needed the singing ones!”

 “Alright, alright!” Aonara raises her hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’ll go and get them back for you.”

 The chef swings the bag about as if to hit Aonara.

 She ducks and steps back out of range.

 “We told you,” Garth says, his voice dipping into a rumble that raises into a roar. “These mushrooms belong to someone else! You’re stealing them! Stop being so angry!”

 The chef stumbles back, clutching the bag to his chest as he shrinks away from Garth. “I – I’m so sorry, here-” He shoves the bag at Garth and runs from them across the ford.

 “Wait, we should have asked him where the others were.” Aonara steps as if to follow the chef.

 “I think we should rejoin Mhaja and Raz,” Aneirin says. “I don’t think he’s got any idea where the other mushrooms are.

 Garth clears his throat and claps his hands together, dusting them down the front of his coat. “Terribly sorry, fellows, don’t know what came over me there. Let’s go find the others.”

 They make their way into the forest, following the sounds of Mhaja’s singing until they find her.

 She’s staring intently at a glob of mucus that’s she’s found on the ground. In the tall grass beyond her, they spot Raz’s hat as he wanders back and forth, brim tipped up as he stares at the sky. He’s echoing Mhaja’s song in a faint voice, mind clearly elsewhere.

 “Ah, here you are!” Aneirin cries out, stopping beside Mhaja. “Nice to meet you all again. We got… slightly distracted, but crisis averted! We’re all here now.”

 “Mhaja found slime!” Raz pipes up, pushing his way through the grass to join them.

 Aonara fills Raz and Mhaja in on what happened with the chef.

 Raz tilts his head, like he’s trying to work out if this is how people are supposed to interact with each other. “I… see.”

 “That’s what happens, when we split up as a group.” Aonara shrugs, swinging a hand through the air.

 “Alright.” Raz nods.

 “Well,” Mhaja says, “We found this trail of mucus. It’s rather gloopy.” She sticks a claw in it and holds it up to demonstrate the viscosity. “It seems to go all over the forest.”

 Aonara picks up a stick and uses it to draw a very shaky face in the mucus that slowly fills back in.

Garth looks around and climbs up onto a nearby boulder, shading his eyes as he peers both ways along the trail of mucus. “It seems to go into a darker area over there.” He points. “Perhaps a cave?”

 Garth hops down from the boulder and leads the way towards the patch of darkness.

 As they walk closer, the stench hits them. It’s powerful and foul, and the worst thing any of them have smelt in their entire life.

 Garth gags and covers his nose.

 The mound they’re walking towards seems to be moving, albeit incredibly slowly.

 Mhaja reaches out with her staff to poke it. “Hm. I think it’s sleeping,” she says.

 As if to underline her pronouncement, the group hears little bubbling snore-like sounds coming from the mound.

 “Anyone else want to poke it?”

 “… No.” Aneirin says.

 Raz wanders around the mound, pushing their hat back to inspect it more closely. Their eyes dilate as they begin to take in more information, finally spotting things they can make sense of.

 The mound is a cave, seemingly contoured to the creature that sleeps within it. The creature itself is a sleeping snail, grown to a far bigger size than Raz would have thought possible.

 “Intriguing,” he murmurs. “Is this magical in some form, I wonder?” As he listens, he hears faint echoes of the snail’s snoring coming from behind it. “Are there baby snails in there?” he asks.

 “I think that’s probably the mushrooms, Raz,” Mhaja says, having come up behind them.

 “That… would make more sense.” Raz nods. “Perhaps I can climb in…” He steps back, looking for a way over. “If I keep to the shell, it won’t feel that…” He sets his staff against the mound and rests his hat on top of it.

 “I think that’s too tight even for you.”

 “Has anyone got any giant lettuce or something?” Garth asks.

 “I could create an image of another snail before it, so when it wakes – because they’re hermaphroditic – it sees it and just goes to bang it?” Mhaja suggests, hand stroking over the gem in her staff.

 Silence greets her statement.

 “Uhhh…” Aneirin hesitates.

 “I was thinking just conjure up the image of a giant bulb of lettuce and it would then make its way to it,” Garth says.

 “Need to wake it up first.” Aneirin takes a step back, studying his surroundings. “Why don’t we wait until nightfall-”

 “Ooh, ooh, I could set it on fire and we could make giant escargot.” Mhaja palms a small orb of fire, grinning.

 “That could kill the campestris.” Aonara holds out a hand to stop her. “If it is them. Just wait a moment.” She steps closer and sings softly towards the mound, keeping an eye on the snail in case it wakes.

 The snail doesn’t wake, but the echoing snores cut off into a burbling rendition of the song she’s singing.

 “Don’t they sound like they’re underwater?” Aonara asks.

 “A snail this big leaves a lot of mucus.” Razmatazz eyes it uneasily. “And campestris are small.”

 Garth twitches his hand as if he wants to reach out and pet the snail, but he doesn’t. “I think the image of a giant lettuce to lure it out would work. Have you ever met an animal that doesn’t want to eat?”

 “Um…” Mhaja hums, doubtful. “Is it really more likely to be hungry than horny? I’ve studied snails before, some of them are the pickiest eaters in existence.”

“Fine, you may have a point.” Garth does, in fact, pat the snail’s shell. “Hey, buddy.”

 The snail stirs and wakes up, eye stalks extending and turning to look at Garth.

 “How are you doing?” Garth continues speaking to it.

 The snail shifts just enough that they can see the campestris in the shade of the mound. They’re submerged in a deep pool of the mucus and unable to move very far.

 “Now that you’ve made friends with it, can you lure it out?” Aonara asks.

 “How – how do I lure it out? Just make a giant fucking lettuce!”

 “Fine, I’ll make a giant fucking lettuce!” Mhaja rolls her eyes.

 “I could cast darkness,” Raz says, a bit doubtful as they pull their hat back on. “It might make it easier to get the snail out?”

 “It won’t be able to see the lettuce in the dark.”

 “Oh. True.”

 “Why don’t we try the lettuce first,” Aonara says, “See if it even works?”

Mhaja points her staff ahead of the snail, and a giant lettuce just appears before the snail, out of reach enough that it’ll have to leave the cave to reach it.

 Almost excruciatingly slowly, the snail starts to move. It leaves a fresh trail of mucus behind it that spreads out from the cave.

 Raz takes a couple of quick steps back before he can be caught in the flood of mucus and swept off his feet.

 Garth pats the snail again as it starts to move and then stands, a little bit awkward, as it continues to move slowly past him.

 It waggles an eyestalk at him, and Garth waves a hand in return, and then starts to attempt eating the lettuce.

 These campestris are stout and a brilliant shade of red, even through the layer of mucus that covers them.

 Aonara reaches in and picks them out. “Now,” she says to them, “You’re going in the back for the moment, but we’ll clean you off and take you back home.”

 The campestris mimic her words back at her in a higher pitch.

 “Aw I love them!” Aonara coos.

 “Maybe you should clean them off first, before they get… snail goo over everything,” Aneirin suggests.

 It doesn’t take long to clean them – the campestris mimicking words back and forth, interspersed with bell-like laughter – and then Aonara sets them carefully in the bag.

 “Shall we keep going back and forth to Gwendolyn?” she asks. “How many more are there?”

 “Two more sets,” Raz says.

 “I think we should probably just go for the rest,” Aneirin replies.

 “Rather than boomeranging?” Raz nods.

 “Goodbye, Slimy.” Aneirin rests a hand near but not on the snail’s shell.

 “Big Jim.”

 Aneirin hesitates, then nods. “Yes, I prefer Big Jim.”

 The snail does not look up, intent on trying to eat the mirage of a lettuce that Mhaja had given it.

 As they walk away, Garth hesitates and pulls five rations from his bag, laying them on the ground in the centre of the lettuce image. “There you go,” he says, patting Big Jim some more.

 Big Jim seems to watch Garth walk away with a solemn tilt to its eyestalks, before returning to its meal.

 Aneirin gestures for the bag containing the campestris. “I want to try something.” He opens it and softly sings in, “Can you tell us where your friends went~”

 “We don’t know,” the campestris sing back in their alto voices. “We hopped here and were caught in the goop. Everyone went in different directions.”

 “Maybe we should go back to the path then,” Aneirin says.

 “If they all went in many directions…” Raz nods.

 “You don’t think they need to eat, do they?” Aonara takes the bag back, carefully settling it on her shoulders.

 “Probably not.” Mhaja squints at the bag. “I should think they’ll be fine in the dark there.”

 “If we are indeed heading back to the path, we can simply return them to Gwendolyn now,” Garth says, “She knows best how to look after them.”

#

 “We saved these from a snail!” Raz says, as Aonara lets the red campestris out of the bag and onto the cart beside the others.

 “Oh that’s amazing! Thank you so much, you’ve brought my altos back!” Gwendolyn fusses over them, checking that they are unharmed.

 They hop up beside the others, joining with their small tune.

 Garth walks past the cart and across the road to the other verge. Raz follows him, tilting their hat back and twitching their ears back and forth.

 “I think I hear something,” Raz says, turning to try and work out where it’s coming from. “Not just those campestris, but others. They’re a different tone.” They take a couple of steps, and then turn back towards the forest. “They’re that way!” They point for emphasis, holding onto their hat before it can tip backwards off their head.

 With Raz in the lead, they head back into the forest and through until they emerge into a clearing littered with sprawling bushes and overgrown wildflowers. In the centre is a rough mound of huge boulders that tower higher than the trees surrounding them.

 There’s a pair of green campestris at the edge of the plateau, just visible from where the party gathers. They’re cooing into the wind, joining the faint song of the other campestris.

 Mhaja wanders closer to the rock formation and starts to climb. At first she does quite well, digging in her claws to the pitted surface, finding handholds that don’t crumble as she leans on them. Then she pauses in her climb and looks up to track out her next move, and the worn ledge she has her weight crumbles away.

 Mhaja falls, tumbling back down the rock to the ground. She gets back to her feet and dusts herself off.

 “I’ll… I’ll give that a shot,” Aneirin says, stepping forward.

 He finds a few holds, but falls almost as soon as he takes his foot off the ground.

 Raz hesitates, looks up at the height of the pillar and mutters what could be equations to themself as they try to work something out. “Garth?” they ask, setting down their staff. “Would you like to try throwing me up?”

 Garth shrugs. “Alright, sure. Fastball special, coming right up.” He picks Raz up off the ground.

 Raz pulls their knees to their chest, their pupils blown wide as they try (and fail) to hide their grin.

 Garth launches Raz up and at the rock, but he doesn’t quite get it right and Raz hits the rockface instead of reaching the top. “Sorry! I’m a bit out of practice, it’s been years.”

 Raz squeaks and scrabbles for a handhold. They see over the top for a second, and past the two campestris they spot several animal carcasses and a human corpse before they slip back over the edge and fall to the bottom.

 They don’t quite bounce all the way down – it’s more of a slip ‘n’ scramble – but they roll as they hit the ground and take a minute when they stand back up to readjust their hat, dust themself off, and pick up their staff.

 “There are corpses up there,” they announce. “The campestris are shying away from them. One is human, the rest appear to be animal.”

 Garth circles around the base of the formation and finds the other side to have a much gentler looking ascent. “There’s an easier way here,” he calls back around, sounding a little sheepish.

 Raz joins him first, followed by Aonara.

 Garth tests the rockface gingerly. “I’ll go first, shall I?”

 The ascent is easier from this side, and Garth reaches the top relatively quickly.

 The corpses are days old and rotting in the sunlight; the stench is intense. Garth pulls an embroidered silk handkerchief out from a pocket and uses it to cover his nose, then crouches to examine the carcasses.

 Raz scrambles up beside Garth and circles around to look at the human corpse.

 “Smells like my father’s cooking,” Garth says, in pained tones.

 “Your father cooks?” Raz asks, almost absentmindedly as they make their own investigation.

 “Not that well.”

 Raz hums and prods the human corpse’s arm aside, revealing a puncture wound in its abdomen, with sickly lines leading out along the lines of its veins. “Poison,” they say softly. “That’s… fun.”

 “Oh no,” Garth agrees, sounding worried. He glances across at the campestris.

 They’re small and green, and don’t seem to want to move from where they’re perched on the edge of the plateau.

 “Hey, all the greenies are up on top of the rock.” He nudges Raz. “Because we’re the best.”

 Raz laughs lightly as Garth shuffles across to the campestris.

 “Hey there folks, if you’d like to just settle up on my shoulders, we’ll get you back down and straight back to your friends.” Garth offers them a hand.

 A winged shadow circles the outcrop, accompanied by a nasally sounding roar.

 Garth and Raz look up to see a green wyvern swooping in as if to attack them.

 Mhaja reacts first, throwing her hand up with a shout and firing four rays of fire that streak towards the wyvern. Two soar past it, but one splashes against its side and scorches the scales there. The last smacks into its wing, near the joint, and almost seems to burn a hole through the membrane.

 Aneirin throws his own spell at it, creating a flash of light that drilled into the scorched scales underneath its wing.

 Garth hesitates, measuring the space between himself and the wyvern, hand on the hilt of his great sword. Then he shakes his head and takes the crossbow from his back, lining up a shot. The campestris climbing up his arm make him fumble the shot and it goes wide as he swears.

 The campestris whimper out a mournful song in his ear as they huddle together, trembling and trying to make themselves even smaller.

 Garth puts his crossbow away and lifts his great sword, the flames igniting along its length, and stands defensively with it before him.

 Aonara slams the base of her staff into the ground and strips of yellow energy rise up to entangle the wyvern, trapping its wings against its side and pulling it to the ground. As her spell brings it to the ground, Aonara walks closer to it.

 The wyvern lashes out with its tail as Aonara walks within range and it strikes her along her leg.

 She cries out, almost dropping to her knee.

 Razmatazz steps up to the edge of the plateau so he can see the wyvern on the ground and pulls out his canteen, upending a splash of water onto the rockface. He crafts it into a knife and freezes it into ice, then points it down at the wyvern. Satisfied with how it’s lined up, Raz flings it down, following through the motion with his hand.

 It slices down the wyvern’s neck and into its foot, and Raz nods in satisfaction.

 Mhaja swipes her free hand from behind the gem in her staff, summoning four fragments of fire that she sends shooting at the wyvern. One of them smacks it in the side of the head and must hit a weak point, because although the others soar past it, the wyvern bursts into flames that race along the length of it body as it dies.

 The campestris trill in Garth’s ear, letting out little chirps of excitement.

 “Just the bass ones left now,” Aneirin says.

 “Yes.” Aonara stands up, gingerly testing her leg.

 Mhaja starts to look for any sign that could lead them onwards, and turns up faint boot prints that lead back into the dark forest. “Over this way?”

 Raz and Garth climb back down from the plateau, carefully avoiding the carcasses, and rejoin the rest of the party.

#

The prints lead them through the woods and to a camp that is enclosed within a ring of overgrown shrubs and twisted trees. There are several figures moving between the ragged tents, muttering to one another between bursts of gruff laughter that penetrate the forest’s silence.

 The campestris on Garth’s shoulder mimic the laughter as they draw closer.

 Mhaja grins and points at one of the figures. “Where are the fucking mushrooms?” she whispers into a small orb of magic that appears before her.

 The figure looks around. “Where – what was that? Did you say anything, Toby?”

 “No, wasn’t me,” replies another, thoroughly uninterested. “I’m just havin’ my beer.”

 “It wasn’t Toby,” Mhaja whispers.

 The figure starts to his feet and wanders away from the fire, searching to find who’s whispering to him.

 “Where are the fucking mushrooms?” Mhaja continues, grinning.

 The man is getting visibly distressed, shaking his head and clicking one finger by his ear as if to drown out Mhaja’s voice. He starts to run, beginning to circle out of the camp towards where the group are hiding.

 The rest of the people around the campfire seem to laugh at him, settling back down and relaxing as they chat with each other.

 “Where are the fucking mushrooms?” Mhaja asks again.

 The man spins around and yells back at the group around the fire. “Where have you put the mushrooms?”

 “They’re where you left them,” Toby replies, frowning. “We’re drying them over the fire. They’ll be done in a minute.”

 “Oh hell naw,” Garth says. He tucks a hand around the campestris on his shoulders, which have begun to squeal in fear.

 “Shall – shall we try and talk them out of it?” Raz asks, hands gripping his staff.

 “We should try and talk,” Aneirin replies.

 “So I shouldn’t just set the whole place ablaze?” Mhaja tilts her head.

 “That would burn the mushrooms up!” Aonara says.

 “Well…” Mhaja draws the word out.

 “We’re equal numbers,” Garth says, thinking it through. “I cannot abide innocent people – even if they’re mushrooms – getting roasted over a fire.” Without waiting for the others, he steps out of the tree line and around the side of the camp, to where he can be seen walking towards them. “Gentlemen!” he calls out. “If you please, we are some divine intervention. Surely you do not want to be cooking those mushrooms there, because if you continue in your ways doing this,” Garth pulls out his great sword, igniting the flames along its length, “Then we will have to burn you.”

 One reaches for his sword, seeming to battle with his own fear to get that far. “Why – why do you care so much about these mushrooms? We just want to have dinner and a good time.”

 Mhaja surrounds herself in silvery mist and takes a step, disappearing from the treeline and then reappearing beside the fire. “Because we care.”

 “As I said,” Garth smiles, “Di-vine intervention!” He takes two steps forward.

 The man flinches and drops his sword into the fire.

 Above the fire, in a small cage, are the two campestris. They appear to have passed out from the heat, and are beginning to look shrivelled and dried out.

 Aneirin has walked around the opposite side of the camp, and now takes the opportunity to walk forward. “Fellows. Friends. My friends here are very emotionally attached to these mushrooms, ok? They’re very… they mean a lot to them, to hear them sing, and ah… if you guys just want food? We can get you food. We have rations, and old cuts of meat that might be more filling than those mushrooms up there.” He glances across at Garth. “My friends, as I said, are very emotional. And angry. We just want the mushrooms. Let’s say we trade and we’ll be on our way.”

 “S-ssure, yeah, fine, take them.” He stumbles back from the fire, and the others of his group do the same. “We don’t – just crack on, we’re going to have our beer over here. Thank you for the food, and we’ll – yeah, we’ll leave you to it.” He fumbles back out of the way.

 Aneirin nods and steps forward, handing out a packet of rations to each man.

 Mhaja reaches a hand out and plucks the cage from above the dancing flames, pulling it open. She doesn’t even to notice the flames as they lick along the back of her scaled hand. The campestris – these ones stout and blue – barely react as she picks them up and takes them out of the cage.

 Aneirin steps up to meet her. “Did anyone take damage during the wyvern attack?”

 “I did,” Aonara says, joining them by the fire. She’s still favouring her leg as she walks.

 Aneirin nods and speaks a low word. Light swirls around Aonara’s leg and the campestris, being absorbed into them.

 Aonara sets her leg down and tests it. “Thank you.”

 The campestris look refreshed and revived, waking up and beginning to sing with happiness. The ones on Garth’s shoulders start to chorus with them.

 “I suppose we should return to Gwendolyn,” Aneirin says.

 “That’s all of them.” Aonara nods.

 Garth extinguishes his blade and puts it away.

 Mhaja turns about and spots the man that she’d been whispering to. In the same tones, she hisses across, “Don’t be a cunt.”

 He starts to sob, trying to stifle the noise as he hides behind the tents.

#

 Back on the roadside, Gwendolyn is pacing again, wringing her hands together. The four campestris on the cart are singing as if to soothe her, but it doesn’t look as though they’re helping much.

 As the party draw near, the campestris on Garth’s shoulders yelp with glee and jump down, hopping across the grass towards the cart.

 Mhaja almost curls a hand out as if to stop them.

 “We made a promise,” Raz says to her, almost sounding scandalised.

 “Oh, fine,” Mhaja replies. “But thinks of the research we could do!”

“Oh, you found them all!” Gwendolyn turns towards the party, beaming. “Thank you so much!”

 On the cart, the campestris have reunited and are hopping about each other, singing back and forth.

 “Can we – may I offer you a song of theirs, in thanks?” Gwendolyn pushes stray hairs back behind her ears.

 The party emphatically agrees.

 “I have a counter proposal,” Aneirin says. “Why don’t we, to make sure that these campestris don’t run off again, accompany you to the next place you’re travelling to, and help set up a big event with a party and everything?” His eyes light up at the mere idea of the party they’ll throw.

 Gwendolyn nods. “I’d be ever so grateful. But – would you like a song right now, as a preview?”

 “Yeah!” Garth nods.

 Gwendolyn taps her hand against the side of the cart to get the campestris attention. They scramble into a neat row and sound off in their pairs, making sure that they’re in tune with each other.

 “Our new song, alright?” Gwendolyn says, and counts them in.

 The song is ethereal, filled with polyphonic textures, and sang in a language none of the party recognise. As the campestris sing, green mist swirls up on the road beside the cart that coalesces into a mass of opaque light that something steps through.

 The creature stands on two shrivelled legs, its skin leeched grey. Its arms are stick-thin, its fingers contorted into claws, and it’s hunched under what appears to be a death shroud. Its face might once have been human, but it’s now stretched into a horrifying visage, unnaturally elongated. Its eyes are milky ovals that stare blankly at the party.

 The campestris shriek and tumble backwards into the cart, hiding. The portal disappears.

 “A bodak!” Gwendolyn cries out.

 “What?” Mhaja stares at it, horrified.

 “Why are your mushrooms summoning portals to the Shadow Realm?” Raz screeches.

 “Why would you do that?” Garth almost wails, unsheathing his great sword.

 “Sure, we’ll just sing you a song – of Death!” Raz continues to ramble as they step back, bringing their staff up in front of them.

 Mhaja breathes fire at the bodak as it lunges towards the party, setting its shroud ablaze.

 Aneirin summons his spectral weapon, which takes the form of a massive fruity cocktail in a coconut shell, complete with a little umbrella and a piece of pineapple hanging over the side, and smacks it into the bodak’s head. Some of the liquid splashes out, hissing as it hits the bodak and then the flames still licking up its shroud.

 He then swings his mace about and smacks it into the bodak’s side, knocking it slightly off-kilter.

 The bodak screeches and throws itself at Aneirin, who easily avoids the flailing attack.

 Aonara reaches for a thistle growing by the side of the road and snaps it out into a thorny whip. She takes a step forward and lashes it about the bodak, tugging back to make sure the thorn dig in deep.

 Garth’s great sword ignites in his hands as he runs forward to meet the bodak, screaming. He feints and the bodak follows it, only to have Garth’s great sword slash up and across its other side, leaving fire burning through its desiccated flesh in its wake.

 Garth attacks again without giving it a moment’s rest and whips his sword around to take off its head.

 The bodak falls before him, crumbling to the ground, but Garth continues to attack until the flames turn it to nothing more than ash.

 Raz quietly dispels the magic they’d been gathering for a spell and rests their staff back on the ground. “Maybe,” they say, turning to look up at Gwendolyn, “We don’t sing that song again?”

 “I’m so sorry, I had no intention to open the portal,” she says, words tripping over themselves in her haste. “I’d just recently bought that song, and I wanted to give you a preview of our next performance in thanks. It-” She hesitates, looking back at the cart where the campestris are slowly coming out of hiding- “has happened before, that they’ve summoned portals, but I thought with a new song that… wouldn’t happen.” Gwendolyn clasps her hands together. “I am so sorry, I truly didn’t intend that to happen. Thank you, again.”

 From the cart, the campestris echo her thanks.

 “You’re welcome,” Aonara pitches her voice high as she waves back at the campestris.

Aneirin turns towards her, resting his mace on his shoulders. He squints at her, but takes her at her word. “Our pleasure. No problem. Always good to help out the people who bring joy and fun to others. It’s one of the best things about life itself, so.” He shrugs.

 “Please, let us give you a lift onwards, to the next town at least? And the concert there, of course.”

 The party agree, and they set off down the road with Gwendolyn, the campestris singing softly in the cart behind them.

[kittynslitterbox]

52 Female & Male Names

A ♀ Ana & Alexa ♂ Andrew & Anthony B ♀ Bethany & Bryony ♂ Blake & Bastian C ♀ Camil{l}a & Cassandra ♂ Chase & Christopher D ♀ Daniela & Darcy ♂ Darian & Dominic E ♀ Erin & Eleanor ♂ Earl & Eric F ♀ Freja & Fallon ♂ Franscisco & Fabian G ♀ Gwendolyn & Genevieve ♂ Garth & Gabriel H ♀ Heather & Harley ♂ Henry & Heath I ♀ Isabelle & Irene ♂ Isaac & Ian J ♀ Juliet & Jewel ♂ Jon & Joseph K ♀ Kennedy & Kiara ♂ Kayden & Kyle L ♀ Lili & Leia ♂ Lucifer & Lukas M ♀ Mila & Melina ♂ Magnus & Maximus N ♀ Natalie & Nicole ♂ Nash & Nicholas O ♀ Opal & Olivia ♂ Oliver & Oscar P ♀ Priscilla & Penelope ♂ Philip & Peter Q ♀ Quinn & Qendressa ♂ Quinten & Quincy R ♀ Reagan & Rory ♂ Richard & Royal S ♀ Sara & Sophie ♂ Sean & Scott T ♀ Taylor & Tanya ♂ Thaddeus & Timothy U ♀ Ursula & Ulrike ♂ Uberto & Ulysses V ♀ Veronica & Viviana ♂ Victor & Vincent W ♀ Willow & Wanda ♂ William & Wyatt X ♀ Xanthe & Xenia ♂ Xander & Xavier Y ♀ Yolanda & Yvette ♂ Yael & Yorke Z ♀ Zola & Zoey ♂ Zachary & Zolan If you are interested in the meaning and/ or origin of any or all of these names just let me know and will do another post with them

[selena-snape]

Sexta Generación:

¤ Lilith Moira Riddle y Julian Cameron Gray

¤ Bloom Larissa Peters y Sky Aurelius Peters

¤ Hazel Opal Peters y Magnus Roman Watson

¤ Theodore August Peters y Meredith Mavis Monroe

¤ Aaron Christopher Weasley y Verena Michelle Dyer

¤ Joshua Stephen Weasley y Esther Amalia Holt

¤ Charles Samuel Weasley y Ruby Stephanie Saffron

¤ Iris Aurelia Weasley y Marshall Everett Conrad

¤ Theophania Calliope Richardson y Corinne Roxanne Everleigh

¤ Arabella Beatrix Richardson y Henry Oliver Brooks

¤ Kai Dominick Richardson y Flynn Milo Wolf

¤ Willow Cosima Levin y Nicoletta Pomona Wilford

¤ Fern Violet Levin y Marie Honoria Ollivander

¤ Euphemia Alessandra Levin y John Florean Palmer

¤ Dorothea Giovanna Levin y Elladora Eloise Gibson

¤ Salazar Lucius Levin y Holly Avalon Barnes

¤ Eleanor Hope Levin y Savannah Genevieve Shaw

¤ Gracie Isadora Novak y Marvin Declan Sullivan

¤ Alec Aurelian Novak y Claire Piper Johan

¤ Mason Ezekiel Novak y Clementine Octavia Albion

¤ Lotor Comet Snape y Giovanni Benjamin Lestrange

¤ "Moon Demon" Darius Angelo Snape y "Dark Angel " Arianne Alysson Snape

¤ "Killer Shadow" Lazarus Ignatius Snape y "Ice Demon" Urania Calliope Snape

¤ Morterius Viktor Snape y Hisirdoux Artemas Casperan

¤ Regris Niven Snape y Acxa Valda Snape

¤ Kevin Ethan Snape y Gwendolyn Stephanie Tennyson

¤ Regulus Orion Snape y Abel Austin Khemse

¤ Cygnus Arcturus Snape y Frederic Alistair Weasley

¤ Elle Rigel Snape y Matsuda Touta

¤ Beyond Aurelian Snape y Mikami Teru

¤ Alexander Valens Snape y Magnus Sebastian King

¤ Lysander Nikolaus Snape y Vladimir Micah Masters

¤ Gwendolyn Hiroko Snape y Tanaka Misaki

¤ Ezra Yamato Snape y Luveva Rosemay Sutherlamd

¤ Ryan Yoshio Snape y Avery Daxon Sinclair

¤ Keith Akira Snape y James Oliver Griffin

¤ Yuudai Riley Snape y Danielle Edna Young

¤ Yuriko Harley Snape y Debra Kathleen McIntosh

¤ Clarice Suki Snape y Alphard Delphinus Black

¤ Mako Ethan Snape y Giovanna Naomi Hamilton

¤ Morgana Kendra Voorhees y Karin Delilah Summers

¤ Carrie Margaret Voorhees y "Sue" Susan Danica Snell

¤

¤

¤

¤ Jessica Lorna Kimble y Steven Malcom Freeman

¤ Audrey Andromeda Malfoy y Andre Perseus Bourgeois

¤ Gabriel Bastian Malfoy y Emilie Calliope Graham de Vanily

¤ Roynard Hydra Malfoy y Violet Rowena Deekers

¤ Raymond Lynx Malfoy y Cedric Atticus Diggory

¤ Draco Lucius Malfoy y Astoria Coraline Greengrass

¤ Merle Ariel Malfoy y "Jesus" Paul Finnegan Rovia

¤ Hope Leah Malfoy y

¤ Carl Thomas Malfoy y

¤ Levi Armand Malcoy y

¤ Daryl Hunter Malfoy y Rick Jonah Grimes

¤ Vitale Astaroth Sparda y Luka Nicholas Sparda

¤ Neron Asura Sparda y Kyrie Serena Kiernan

¤ Merak Emory Sparda y Portia Manon Hendrix

¤ Armand Vincent Sparda y

¤ Nicholas William Sparda y

¤ Septimus Canyon Sparda y

¤ Loretta Margot Grace y Calvin Raphael Foxglove

¤ Julius Grant Grace y Ivy Roxanne Baxley

¤ Benjamin Vidar Grace y Edgar Zachary Maddox

¤ Ophelia Nozomi Jensen y Cordelia Avery Bkwie

¤ Eileen Victoria Jensen y Silvius Dael Sinclair

¤ Thomas Lysander Jensen y Othello Natalie Reeve

¤ Nova Genesis Jackson y Allison Leah Reid

¤ Losa Iris Brooks y Briar Anais Tedford

¤ Nina Rosie Brooks y Asa August Harding

¤ Connor Cyrus Brooks y Sandra Sabine Simmons

¤ Esme Aurora Donovan y Maxine Riley Crosby

¤ Arabella Cassidy Donovan y Robert Dashiell. Davenport

¤ Arianne Odette Donovan y Terrence Gideon Graves

¤ Kendra Alessandra Donovan y Alexis Scarlett Bishop

¤ Cassandra Abigail Donovan y James Anthony West

¤ Pansy Genevieve Parkinson y Theodore Phineas Nott

¤ Avalon Forrest Parkinson

¤ Damien Emory Parkinson

¤ Ursa Alexa Corvinus Y Narcissa Hazel Ripley

¤ Nora Alyssa Corvinus y Lydia Skylar Abernathy

¤ Annabelle Danica Corvinus y Rowan Vladimir Norwood

¤ Luna Pandora Lovewood y Rolf Elijah Matthew Scamander

¤

¤

¤

¤

¤ Ronan Artemis Marcelly y Adam Timothy Reed

¤ Giovanni Octavius Marcelly y Robin Mikhaila Mckinley

¤ Ivan Alistair Marcelly y James Christopher Peters

¤ Mika Valentina Donnelly y Arthur Ethan Bowers

¤ Damien September Delaney y Melione Rowena Robinson

¤ Kira Dominika Delaney y Marlon Oliver Williams

¤ Kanna Amelia Delaney y Gael Ethan Byron

¤ Nicholas Hadrien Delaney y Madison Edith Emerson

¤ Armand Demetrius Corwin y Persephone Aspen Cormac

¤ Tatiana Aubrey Corwin y Marcella Carolinne Cervenka

¤ Pandora Evageline Corwin y Cecilia Honoria Van Frietag

¤ Natasha Piper Dresden y Donna Mary Berkshire

¤ Emily Alisha Ansel y Nana Eliza Martin

¤ Isabelle Veronica Ansel y Carmen Emilia Reyes

¤ Kenneth Paul Dollins y Ella Isabella Evans

¤ Joseph Herman Dollins y Juliet Corina Rogers

¤ Hailey Amelia Flint y Lucia Naomi Barnes

¤ Ashley Jasmine Flint y Maxwell Benjamin Norton

¤ Piper Savannah Flint y Louis Howart Daxton

¤ Chase Akira Braken y Felix Lucius Quinn

¤ Florian Narcissus Braken y Colin Leonard Frone

¤ Callum Daniel Fox y Marjorie Katie Vance

¤ Dante Ezra Fox y Leila Juniper Thomson

¤ Nathan Soren Fox y Matthias Isaac Parker

¤ Magnus Gideon Fox y Desmond Ethan McReynolds

¤ Lucian Harrison Fox y Apollo Anthony Greene

¤ Jude Eli Hudson y Theodore Declan Vesper

¤ Olive Genesis Ivanovich y David Cameron Canyon

¤ Tate Roman Ivanovich y Molly Aurora Wiley

¤ Ivory Leah Ivanovich y Diane Barbara Jennings

¤ Devon Julian Kane y Ophelia Pauline Colins

¤ Claudine Barbara Kane y Matthew Benjamin Rothchild

¤ Castiel Dominc Kane y Charlie Isaac Lauder

¤ Natasha Bella Kane y Mackenzie Riley Hills

¤ Caroline Samantha Kane y Sarah Emma Fuller

¤ Harper Eva Kane y Daniel Michael Baker

¤ Henry Jasper Kane y Duncan Joshua Evas

¤ Nathan Pietro Kane y Elijah Maxwell Crimson

¤ June Opal Kane y Felix Octavius Rhodes

¤ Jane Ophelia Kane y Angelo Dominic Lowell

¤ Aldora Corinne Prince Amora Lyra Stout

¤ Odolette Lila Prince y Thalia Cora Fulton

¤ Amon Rowan Prince y Elira Bianca Thorton

¤ Amelia Robin Prince y Nicolo Dorian Guthrie

¤ Alastor Robert Prince y Dinah Pandora Pearson

¤ Gavin Marshall Prince y Megara Eloise Lang

¤ Sean Colin Prince y Rebecca Odette Douglas

¤ Renee Tara Prince y Miles Edgar Lambert

¤ Eric Lance Snapey y Millicent Corinne Curtis

¤ Marlon Levi Snape y Lily Alyssa Yancer

¤ Luther Garth Snape y Judith Naomi Tailyour

¤ Hannah Ebony Snape y Lincoln Nathan Penfold

¤ Marie Clarice Snape y Leslie Regan Eastwood

¤ Jade Tiffany Snape y Leah Eliana Rees

¤ Grant Devin Snape y Geraldine Annalie Harfield

¤ Dean Leighton Snape y Fiona Charity Wheeler

¤ Mason Riley Oakley y Cartie April Willis

¤ Morgan Harley Oakley y Ian Paul Wenman

¤ Robert Damian Lake y Marion Corinne Turner

¤ Roy Ethan Morrinson y Griffin Rhett Essex

¤ Joy Ebony Morrinson y Kilian Lee Rowell

¤ Holden Ethan Snape y Eleanor Nadia Heron

¤ Corey Silas Snape y Jane Lydia Orchard

¤ Astrid Juliette Snape y Rhonda Hope Pataki

¤ Tate Julian Snape y James Ronan Poole

¤ Soren Jaspn Snape y Carmen Marianna Rojas

¤ Edgar Samuel Snape y Ingrid Ianthe Lauder

¤ Castiel Gabriel Dream y Cecilia Ember Bonavich

¤ Callum Paul Dream y Avalon Ginevra Carmichael

¤ Cedric Ernest Dream y Bathilda Sibyll Irvine

¤ Garett Elia Dream y Padma Orla Astor

¤ Austin Jordan Dream y Magenta Pomona Hearst

¤ Daryl Silvanus Dream y Nuru Sura Van Doren

¤ Calliope Scarlett Dream y Gemma Pomona Windsor

¤ Cordelia Maribelle Carter y Ivar Rainn Kline

¤ Howart Steven Carter y Sylvia Peyton Bechtel

¤ Lysander Casimir Carter y Enid Jivanta Galumba

¤ Pierre Milford Afton y Kylie Olivia McKeehan

¤ Rupert Stanley Afton y Andrea Jocelyn Varner

¤ Warren Philip Jefferson y Michelle Sabine Castle

¤ Ellie Audrey Jefferson y Shireen Monroe Marks

¤ Giselle Corina Leighton y Mia Velvet Bushnell

¤ Odette Marina Leighton y Nicoletta Verona Goldstein

¤ Larissa Dirina Leighton y Winry Carmina Montgomery

¤ Magnus Cassidy Edevane y Harry Leroy Baker

¤ Stella Andromeda Orville y Harold Russell Mcquiston

¤ Lucille Arabella Orville y Jace Colton Rutledge

¤ Lee Amos Evans y Zoey Makayla Camfield

¤ Cadmus Orion Evans y Trudy Nayala Lovell

¤ Florean Newton Evans y Xenia Sybil Herron

¤ Ivory Ooal Evans y Edmund Wilfred Frankham

¤ Luisa Veronica O'Kelly y Connor Evan Carson.

¤ Finn Andrew Harley y Portia Marilyn Curtis

¤ Abel Nolan Harley y Bonnie Thea Proudley

¤ Louis Xander Harley y Petunia Jamie Deakins

¤ Claire Norah Harley y Lance Chandler Western

¤ Camille Loena Harley y Myrtle Denise Golby

¤ Cora Adelaide Harley y Selma Kelsey Hicks

¤ Juliette Theodora Harley y Daisy China Kempster

¤ Cyrus Maximua Harley y Meredith Shannon Crocker

¤ Horatio Gideon Harley y Heidi Antoinette Deacon

¤ Dorothea Euphemia Harley y Terence Xavier Croucher

¤ Violetta Leopoldine Murphy y Franklin Leonidas Burton

¤ Nova Orion Murphy y Faustina Spencer Odam

¤ Comet Sky Murphy y Yvonne Wilhemina Hibberd

¤ Phoenix Bianca Murphy y Rosalie Simone Stratton

¤ Celestine Xiomara Glenwood y Rylan Waylon Mills

¤ Isla Cosima Glenwood y Neil Rowan Lee

¤ Jacqueline Glenna McCoy y Jarome Staley Orline

¤ Ann Marie McCoy y Ridley Everett Anderson

¤ Apoline Elian McCoy y Simom Edward Thompson

¤ Aubrey Lynn Orson y Braxton Hunter Young

¤ Amelia Faith Orson y Ryland Linden Allen

¤ Lucy Ella Volkov Jacob Jhon Wright

¤ Freya Leah Volkov y Rome Canyon Adams

¤ Martin Lane Volkov y Brianna Mirella Collins

¤ Monet Valentina Volkov y Callahan Anselm Morris

¤ Robinia Venus Carrington y Aragon Glorianne Watson

¤ Damon Micah Carrington y Selie Nia Rise

¤ Calla Seraphina Balckwood y Ariel Calyx Reid

¤ Adriana Norah Blackwood y Windsor Athen Foster

¤ Trevor Narcissus Blackwood y Larry Eugene Fraser

¤ Heather Kalina Moore y Lucilius Nicholas McIntosh

¤ Bernadette Alexa Moore y Ares Gabriel McLean

¤ Althea Ruby Lexington y Trinity Elizabeth Bland

¤ Camellia Iris Lexington y Damian Anthony Boswell

¤ Taylor Sidney Lexington y Fabian Dominic Bartlett

¤ Elena Vittoria Lexington y Athena Aubree Birch

¤ Oris Edward Goodwin y Ryleigh Nadia Chapman

¤ Archer Emrys Goodwin y Paisley Autumm Pannell

¤ Raphaela Esperalda Goodwin y Ryder Quentin Hamilton

¤ Ike Neron Goodwin y Bailey Stephanie Adams

¤ Lilianna Persephone Blackwood y Jared Fabian Crawford

¤ Albert Christopher Blackwood y Gemma Alyna Gibson

¤ Alfred Stella Blackwood y Nicholas Julian Munro

¤ Rose Mary Blackwood y Sebastian robert Walker

¤ Bernard Alden Blackwood y Katherine Calliope McGregor

¤ Benjen Isaiah Blackwood y Seraphina Harper Docherty

¤ Lewis Beckett Blackwood y Samirah Luna Ross

¤ Vlaire Harley Blackwood y Aurora Isabelle Gordon

[kiyomisa]

So this is a bunch of the characters from Supernatural in the world of Odin Sphere.  Hunters from seasons 1-5 (plus Garth) are the Pookas, the cursed rabbit people from the lost kingdom of Valentine Hunters from later seasons are the human kingdom Titania. Demons are denizens of the Netherworld. Angels are Valkyrie (a Valkyrie’s wings are on the hips in Odin Sphere, hence their placement in these illustrations). Witches and other creatures are Vulcans from the Fire Kingdom. Psychics are fairies Jack as a Valkyrie, and also a pretty Disney princess, hanging with Gwendolyn's bluebird. No armor for him as a magic user.

The rest of the series [here]

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

Could you list top 100 books? I'm trying to get into reading.

My top 100 Books!! I’m glad you didn’t ask this on a work day  b/c holy hell this was a bit of work!  However, it was fun to go back and revisit some of my favorites. Sorry, not everything was capitalized, I did this all voice to text b/c it was a lot of writing.I wish I could wake up to asks like these every day. This really isn’t going to be in any particular order but I will try to put my favorites in the top 20

The Stand by Stephen King

See No Evil, Hear No Evil by Robert Heinlen

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

Zelda by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Hairstyles of the Damned by Joe Meno

A Man in Full by Tom Wolfe

The Spy Who Came In from the Cold by John le Carre 

Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote

Liar’s Club by Debra Karr

Life of Pi johnny martel

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion 

Doctor Sleep by Stephen King 

A Thousand Secret Senses by Amy Tan

Arabic Jazz by Diana Abu-Jaber

God Bless John Wayne by Kinky Friedman

A Thief of Time by Tony Hillerman

Lone Star Killing Time by Kinky Friedman

Steppenwolfe by Herman Hesse

Rock Critic Murders by Jesse Sublette

Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel

Now More Again by Elizabeth Wurtzel

a thousand little pieces by James Frey 

Bright, Shining Morning by James Frey

origin by Diana Abu-Jaber 

I wear the black hat by Chuck Klosterman 

lone star legend by Gwendolyn Zepeda 

anasazi boys by Neil Gaiman 

good omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett 

a delicate truth by John le Carre 

This side of paradise by f Scott Fitzgerald 

back to blood by Tom Wolfe

The Friedkin connection a memoir by William Friedkin 

a thousand splendid suns by Khaled Hosseini 

the return of the thin man by Dashiell Hammett 

The fifth assassin by Brad Metzler 

casual vacancy by jk rowling 

the Dexter series by Jeff Lindsay 

sex drugs and cocoa puffs by Klosterman

sharp objects by Gillian Flynn

gone girl by Gillian Flynn 

saving fish from drowning Amy Tan 

feed by Mira grant

tinker tailor soldier spy by John le Carre 

Tender is the Night by Hemingway

now watch him die by henry Rollins 

Devil in the white city by Erik Larson 

It by Stephen King 

get in the van by Henry Rollins 

white night by Jim Butcher 

solipsist by henry Rollins

a stained white radiance by James lee burke 

I Alex Ross by James Patterson ross

Elvis, Jesus and Coca Cola by Kinky Friedman

The hunger games trilogy by Suzanne Collins 

true believers by Kurt Andersen 

into the wild by Jon 

cadillac jukebox by James lee Burke

in cold blood by Truman Capote 

catch-22 by joseph heller 

london bridges by James Patterson 

one from none Henry Rollins

freedom by Jonathan Franzen 

This Side of Paradise by Hemingway

pygmy by Chuck Palahniuk 

Lullabye by Chuck Palahniuk

the man who owns the news: the inside secret world of Rupert Murdoch by Michael Wolff 

fear and loathing in las vegas by hunter s Thompson 

alien ink: the FBI’s secret war on freedom of expression by Natalie Robbins

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Postcards from The Edge by Carrie Fisher 

loose jam by Wayne Wilson 

Hell by Chuck Pahlaniuk

celebrity by Thomas Thompson 

Primary colors by anonymous 

sin city by frank miller

fatal vision by Joe McGinniss

summer knight by Jim Butcher

proven guilty by Jim Butcher 

sweet Jesus, I hate rush Limbaugh by Joseph Milton

the Icarus Agenda by Robert Ludlum 

the road to Omaha by Robert Ludlum 

Bushwacked: life  In George w Bush’s America by Molly Ivins 

the house on mango street by Sandra Cisneros

grim reaper the end of days by Steve allton 

preacher by Garth Ennis 

sandman by Neil Gaiman

the book of fate by Brad Meltzer 

a morning for Flamingos by James Lee Burke 

heaven’s prisoners by James Lee Burke

love is a dog from hell by Charles Bukowski 

purple cane road James Lee Burke 

Crescent by Diana Abu Jaber 

in the electric mist with the Confederate dead by James lee Burke 

the Adrian Mole Diaries by Sue Townsend

V For Vendetta by Alan Moore

Watchmen by Alan Moore

Never The Same Again by Jesse Sublett

I Want My MTV

Soul Circus by George Pelecanos

[thethingwewrite]

Just That One Time

Summary: Face to face with the boys, now what? You think you know what they have in mind but are you so sure about that?

Word Counting: 2887

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader

Warning: Angst,  Mention of depression, suicidal thought. Blood, character death, fluff

A/N: Hey everyone, I am sorry for the long wait. The part 2 of Two differents Time This fic was a bit difficult to write, I had never been deep in those thoughts and I didn’t like that much. This is why I needed time to write and correctly not wanting the reader to sound so cliche I would say. Maybe it’s not the right to chose and I am sorry I just wanted this fic to be perfect and I was still inspired by Kelly Clarkson song Dark Side. I Hope you like it. Thanks to @mrswhozeewhatsis and @aingealcethlenn for betaing this fic.

Tag:  @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, @dr-dean, @helvonasche, @wevegotworktodo, @thorne93, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @faith-in-dean, @roxy-davenport,  @fangirl1802, @percywinchester27,  @bloodysideofhell, @girl-next-door-writes, @kittenofdoomage, @supernatural-jackles, @mysupernaturalfics, @winchester-smut,  @jelly-beans-and-gstrings , @ariannnawinchester, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing , @jensen-jarpad,

Part 1

You stood up but didn’t move, too afraid and worried about their reaction. You could tell that Dean didn’t seem very happy with this situation.

“Hey guys,” you said when they reached you, trying your best to smile.

You carefully watched them, to your surprise they didn’t look upset or hurt. No, they mostly seemed disappointed and their facial expressions made your heart pinch. Instantly, you knew you screwed up and it would be hard to regain even just their trust. You didn’t know what else you could say; there were no words for what you had done. It had broken your heart, but you’d had no choice. Sure, you let them choose each other, only leaving to protect their bond. You left making sure they never saw your tears, not wanting to be their hunting Yoko.

After that, you went on a rough path, one you were surprised you even escaped and still wondered how you did it. If they only knew what happened in your head, what thoughts you had over the past 2 years. Everything was a mess. You started hunting again, going on hunt after hunt, being careless about yourself, and close to not making it. You only survived because you still had that hope in the back of your mind, a place you would go when you fell down.

You couldn’t go back to the second place you called home after Dean killed and tortured most of the people you cared about, when you found out about him being a demon. It was a mess almost burning the town. Nor could you stay with either Jody Mills or with Garth, knowing they would eventually call the boys and both of them would come, trying to help you get back on your feet, feeling all guilty about you leaving and turning into a mess. That’s not what you wanted or needed, so you just wandered around for two years making sure you wouldn’t come across the Winchesters.

Your evil Time (4 months earlier)

A thin ray of sunshine coming through your window, lightly caressing your face made you groan and turn over. Your bed was so comfortable and your pillow smelled like vanilla. You were so comfortable, in fact, that it took a few seconds to remember that you didn’t have a room, a comfortable bed, or a pillow that smelled like vanilla. Your eyes shot open and you immediately sat up, looking around the room after rubbing your face. How did you get here? When did you get here? The last thing you remembered wasn’t really clear to you. It was only a flashback of you hunting and being attacked by something. That’s when the memory ended.

You stood up, but it seemed that your legs didn’t respond the way they should as you fell down face first on the floor. You groaned in pain, turned around, and curled up with your eyes closed.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” asked a woman’s voice.

Your eyes opened to see a red pair of heels; your first thought was ‘Nice shoes’. You looked up to see a brunette in her mid-twenties with grey eyes wearing a black wrap over dress and grinning at you.

“Felt like kissing the floor,” you said sarcastically.

The woman rolled her eyes and helped you up. “Don’t try too much,“ she said, making you sit back down the bed.

You slightly groaned.  “What happened to me?”

“Oh, not much? Where do I start… Yeah right, you busted into my house, tried to kill me, but instead, you almost killed yourself because you were drunk,” she said, sounding a little amused.

You swallowed hard, more worried than ever. “You are the witch I was supposed to go after.”

The witch chuckled. “You are not as dumb as you look!” she said. “Lucky you, I was in a good mood, so I decided to keep you here until you get better.”

You didn’t know if you were lucky or not, but you still wondered why. You sighed. “How long was I unconscious?” you asked.

You wanted to know how long you had survived so far and how much time you still had.

“Two days. You were not in good shape. You have a deep wound near your heart. Another inch to the right and no more you for this world.” She chuckled as she showed you where the wound was and moved her hand where your heart was. “Geez! Calm down. I am not going to hurt you anymore.“ She smirked now that your heart was beating faster and it felt like she was enjoying how scared you were.

Of course, she was enjoying this. She was a witch after all. You watched her smirking, not expecting that she would let you live.

She laughed. “I am going to keep you here until you get better,” she said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I am fine!”

She shook her head, taking a step back. “You are not fine, sweety. You are reckless and from what I could tell you barely cared to live anymore. Call me crazy, but I think you’re going down a bad road.“ She walked towards the door. “Rest. Dinner will be ready at 6.” She walked out of the room.

You watched her leave. She might be… okay, she was right, but you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself. More importantly, you didn’t want to stay there. She was a witch and god knew how they could be very unpredictable and also quickly offended. You didn’t want to mess with one of them, which was why hunters either killed them or stopped them if they were being cooperative.

You weren’t able to stand up yet. Your legs were numb, probably because you hadn’t moved for two days or maybe it was because she cast a spell on you. You were so sure she had bad intentions even if she did save you for some reason.You glanced around the room, your gaze stopping at the window. You took a deep breath before putting one of your legs on the floor but you felt like it was going to twist so you put it back on the bed again.

You were stuck, mostly because you still felt too weak to move and then what? Where would you go? Back to the boys? To Jody Mills? Or Garth? You weren’t so sure you wanted to come back to any of them. It had been way too long, and you were sure Jody or Garth would call them, so it was a big no. You knew it was a rookie mistake to stay there until you got better with the witch around, but at that moment you didn’t know what to do. It would only be for a few days, right? It was only now you realized how much you were fooling yourself, considering those few days turned into weeks then four months until you were getting better, your wounds slowly becoming a scratch from the past.

Even though you didn’t trust the witch at first, as the time went by she gradually made you forget how hurt you were. She showed that you didn’t need the boys, told you that you were a strong independant woman who didn’t need men by your side, and made you less depressed and suicidal. Gwendolyn, the witch, showed you her magic. At first, you didn’t want to practice any of it because you knew where it came from. It was deep and dark, so you stayed away from it for a while. Later, you wouldn’t know when the change happened. You just knew you started to use magic for some reason and you felt better, different.

Where your hunter side was more discreet and tried to avoid collateral damage, your new side didn’t seem to care much about any of that. Overnight you started to hurt people, to make them suffer, usually men. You always thought you didn’t have a type, like a serial killer, so you didn’t pay much attention to it as you sometimes went for women. You could tell Gwendolyn was regretting her choice when you made a third crime and again didn’t cover your tracks, forcing her to do it for you.

Soon it became a habit for her to do that for you. She wasn’t pleased at the way you attracted attention to yourself, like you wanted the right person to notice you, wanted them to know what you were up to. She couldn’t let that happen, not on her watch, making the both of you argue most of the time.

Like that one time where you were in the training room practicing your new power, not paying attention to your name being called in the distance. The shouts quickly sounded annoyed and were then followed by the door being slammed open as Gwendolyn walked in the room.

“ (Y/N)! What the hell!”

You rolled your eyes. “Nice entrance, Gwen. Need more sparkles though,” you said sarcastically, deliberately not turning to face her.

Gwen frowned. “I know why you are killing those men!”

You swallowed hard but kept using telekinesis on a chair. “Oh? Really? Enlighten me with your wisdom!”

She scoffed. “The fact that those men are always two brothers, very tall, and one shorter than the other isn’t ringing a bell to you ?”

You turned to face her, about to say something sassy or close to it, the chair still floating. The sight of her made you literally drop everything, though. Her nose was bleeding, her shoulder was slightly cut, and her pants were dirty with mud. The chair fell from the air and broke into pieces as you approached her with alarm. “What happened to you?” you asked, worried and concerned.

“Oh that? Nothing much, just a little meeting with two brothers who happened to be hunters!” Gwen said, upset pulling her hand up to stop you. “Don’t even bother.”

You looked down, not sure what to say to her. She was upset and she had every right to be.

“They were the reason why you ran away? Why you felt the need to hurt and kill those men?” Gwen asked, walking around you. “Why you were miserable, depressed and suicidal when I picked you up?”

You sighed, pushing back the feelings that were coming back. Even though she was right, you weren’t ready to hear it. “Let me just –”

“No! don’t even touch me! is this how you thank me? For helping you? For being there when you needed someone when you had those nightmares?” she said, coming toward you. “I showed you everything I knew, (Y/N). Everything! You only think of them!”

You stepped back. “You have every right to b–”

“Damn right! You know what? How about you go and kill them right now. They are in the bar at the moment. They think they killed the right witch.” She chuckled even though she didn’t look happy.

You widened your eyes. “No! I am not going to do that!” you said, shaking your head.

Gwen smirked. “Why not? You little hypocrite! Would you rather kill innocent people instead of them? I guess I should do the work for you!”

Later, you wouldn’t be sure what exactly happened or who made the first move. The next thing you knew, you two were fighting, using your power to try and knock out the other one. The chairs were thrown at each other, the table was upside down to protect you, and the potions were broken on the floor. She was powerful, but even with your issues with control, you were smarter, faster, and knew what could weaken a witch. This gave you a little advantage against her. You were a hunter; you could kick her ass any time. You used the anti-witch bracelet you kept on you to weaken her, then punched her hard to knock her out. Not caring what would happen to her, you cuffed her against a wall and left.

“Cut to the crap (Y/N)! Why are we here?” Dean asked, annoyed.

This brought you back to the present, back to your faith in their hands. “I know apologizing for what I did won’t change anything. However, I wanted to show you a place and I want you to be open-minded. You will see and know everything I have been through. Just promise me you will be there because I need you guys to show me who I am again.”

The boys looked at each other not sure what to say; they didn’t expect you to say these kinds of things. You watched them carefully, wondering what their answer would be.

Sam stepped close to you, avoiding the look Dean was giving him. “Listen (Y/N), we know what you have been through and we shouldn’t have let you leave,” he confessed, taking your hand.

You were taken aback by his words, by the softness and the sadness of his voice, like he had been a mess without you. You let him pull you to him, resting your head on his chest, not believing that you were wrong about what you read on their faces. They weren’t disappointed or hurt by what you did, but hurt that you were alone and disappointed that they let you leave. Well, it was mostly true for Sam. Dean, on the other hand, looked very upset. You didn’t pay attention to him, though, as tears were falling down your face and wetting Sam’s shirt.

You cried for a long time in his arms, feeling protected and safe. You felt very numb as well, not caring about your surroundings. Nothing else mattered, you only paid attention to him. Barely noticing that he picked you up, you continued clinging to him as he took you to the Impala and made you sit in the back seat. Sam was being adorable, caring, and protective, making sure you wouldn’t feel alone by staying in the back seat with you and wrapping his arms around you. Dean drove back to the bunker. You fell asleep not having the strength to tell him how you felt but you guessed he knew in a way.

Your eyes shot open hearing your name being screamed. You looked around wondering where you were, at first, but slowly the furniture, the decorations, and the pictures all over the walls made you realize where you were. You didn’t have much time to think through everything when you heard the same voice calling you again, instantly recognizing it. Without thinking twice you ran out of the room.

You ran in the hallway toward the sound. However, the more you ran, the more the hallway got longer, the more your legs felt heavy, and the more you panted. No matter what, though, you didn’t stop running, even though it felt like an eternity. As if you were teleported into the Enterprise, the scenery changed. Everything became darkness and you were roughly pushed onto a chair, metallic restraints closing on your arms, legs, and around your belly. The restraints were very tight, making it difficult for you to breathe.

A spot light appeared not far from you., Sam was also tied up the way you were. He had blood coming out of his mouth, some from a cut on his cheek, and some from his lower lip. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep. You opened your mouth, but his eyes shot open, covered in blood. “You did this to me!” he accused.

You shook your head “N–”

“We trusted you.” Dean’s voice came from your left.

You turned your head and your eyes widened when another spotlight appeared revealing Dean chained against a wall with his guts cut open. “No ! I…I..” you stuttered.

“They’re right, you know. You did that to them.”

Your heart beat raced, your breath accelerated and you felt like throwing up when you saw in front of you a version of yourself holding a knife covered in blood and a smirk on her face.

This copy of you laughed. “What’s the matter (Y/N)? Can’t see yourself like this?” she taunted, coming toward Sam. “You knew it was only a matter of time before this happened.”

“No! Please don’t!” you pleaded.

She laughed again. “It’s inevitable,” she said, walking behind Sam and slicing his throat. “It’s who you are now.” She smirked, walking toward Dean. “You can’t change who you really are,” she said, stabbing him twice then walking toward you. Once in front of you, she leaned forward near your ears. “Just accept it,” she whispered just as you felt a sharp pain in your stomach.

You woke up almost screaming, sweat pouring from your skin and tears falling down your face. You panted, looking around, but not registering anything. Sam came closer to you. “Hey it’s going to be alright,” he said, taking you in his arms.

You relaxed in his arms, not sure what to say or what to do. You wanted to push him away, to run away just to protect him, but this felt so good and so peaceful. Instead, you just laid there and gripped his shirt as he whispered sweet words to calm you down.

Part 3

[manualstogo]

For just $3.99 Candles at Nine Released on January 1, 1944: Directed by: John Harlow Written by: Anthony Gilbert with screenplay by Basil Mason and John Harlow The Actors: Eliot Makeham Everard Hope, Beatrix Lehmann Julia Carberry, Everard's housekeeper, John Salew Griggs, Everard's butler, Joss Ambler Garth Hope, Vera Bogetti Lucille Hope, Garth's wife, Andre Van Gyseghem Cecil Tempest, Winifred Shotter Brenda Tempest, Cecil's wife, Reginald Purdell Charles Lacey, Hugh Dempster Hugh Lacey, Jessie Matthews Dorothea Capper, the heiress, John Stuart William Gordon, Turf Commission, Ernest Butcher Everard's gardener, C. Denier Warren Middleton the executor, Patricia Hayes Gwendolyn the maid, Gerry Wilmot Mr. Jarvis, master of ceremonies, Guy Fielding Maurice, Capper's dance partner, James Knight air raid warden, Charles Paton stage door keeper, Julian Vedey Tony the barman Runtime: 1h 15m *** This item will be supplied on a quality disc and will be sent in a sleeve that is designed for posting CD's DVDs *** This item will be sent by 1st class post for quick delivery. Should you not receive your item within 12 working days of making payment, please contact us as it is unusual for any item to take this long to be delivered. Note: All my products are either my own work, licensed to me directly or supplied to me under a GPL/GNU License. No Trademarks, copyrights or rules have been violated by this item. This product complies withs rules on compilations, international media and downloadable media. All items are supplied on CD or DVD.

[yallashoola]

In the words of Garth Erasmus, this is a "collaborative painting (interfering with the giant wallpaper design which had been left on the wall as residue from the previous exhibition - done by Frank Lunar) w/ myself and Valerie Geselev, Gwendolyn Meyer, Wezile Mgibe, Stephanie Fichardt, Kamiela Crombie and a few other participants from the Thupelo Workshop @ GUS Gallery Stellenbosch. The work, including Frank Lunar's original design, is ultimately a critique on the social history of Stellenbosch, and, by implication, South Africa. #khoisanland" February 2018

[nationalbook]

See you at #AWP17!

The National Book Foundation is headed to Washington, D.C. for #AWP17 . Here are some of the National Book Award Winners, Finalists, Longlist and 5 Under 35 honorees who you can catch during the conference. We’ll see you there! 

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Jacqueline Woodson, National Book Award Winner and Finalist

Mystery in the Writing Process: Discovery, Revelation, and Witholding for Writers and Their Readers

9:00AM-10:15AM

Featuring National Book Award Winner William Alexander and National Book Award Longlist author Kekla Magoon

A Lecture by Jacqueline Woodson, sponsored by The Poetry Foundation

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Winner & four time National Book Award Finalist Jacqueline Woodson

VIDA Voices & Views: Exclusive Interview with Joan Naviyuk Kane, Ada Limón, & Alicia Ostriker

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Ada Limón

The Art of the Novella: Publishers and Writers On Crafting the Beautifully In-Between

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring 5 under 35 Honoree Josh Weill

Asian-American Generations at Coffee House Press

1:30pm - 2:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Karen Yamashita

Some of My Best Friends Are Octavia Butler and Ursula K. LeGuin: Genre Bias in the Creative Writing

1:30pm - 2:45pm 

Featuring 5 under 35 Honoree Asali Solomon

But Do You Have a Novel? How and Why Short Story Writers Transition into Novelists

3:00 pm - 4:15 pm 

Featuring 5 Under 35 Honoree Kirstin Valdez Quade 

Copyright Basics for the Digital Age

3:00 pm - 4:15 pm

Featuring two-time National Book Award Finalist James Gleick

Going for Gold: Five Novelists Rewrite the Sports Narrative

4:30 pm to 5:45 pm

Featuring 5 Under 35 Honoree Tracy O'Neill

An Invitation to Poetic Discovery, Sponsored by Poets House

4:30 pm to 5:45 pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist & Longlist author Monica Youn

Friday, February 10, 2017

Viet Thanh Nguyen, National Book Award Finalist

Celebrating The Golden Shovel Anthology in honor of Gwendolyn Brooks

9:00AM-10:15AM

Featuring three time National Book Award Finalist Marilyn Nelson 

Strange Bedfellows: The Unholy Mingling of Politics and Art

9:00AM-10:15AM

Featuring National Book Award Longlist author Anthony Marra

Workshopping War: The Challenges of War Writing in the Classroom

10:30am - 11:45am 

 Featuring National Book Award Finalist Jayne Anne Phillips

Crafty: Four City University of New York MFA Graduates Read from Their Work

10:30am - 11:45am 

 Featuring National Book Award Winner and 5 Under 35 Honoree Phil Klay

Beyond Sex: The Poetics of Desire

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Tim Seibles

Coming of Age: The Blurry Lines between Adult & YA literature

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM 

 Featuring National Book Award Finalist Jason Reynolds

Raising Hell: Writing from the Extremes

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM 

 Featuring 5 Under 35 Honoree Tea Obreht

American Smooth: A Tribute to Rita Dove

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Winner Robin Coste Lewis and National Book Award Finalist Rita Dove 

The Interconnectedness of Poetry & Memoir

1:30pm - 2:45pm 

 Featuring National Book Award Finalist Tracy K. Smith

A Reading and Conversation with Alexander Chee and Valeria Luiselli, Sponsored by Coffee House Press and Kundiman

1:30pm - 2:45pm 

Featuring 5 Under 35 Honoree Valeria Luiselli and National Book Foundation Executive Director, Lisa Lucas

Going There: Writing the Complicated Truth in the World's Hot Spots

1:30pm - 2:45pm 

Featuring 5 Under 35 Honoree Brit Bennett 

A Tribute to Marie Ponsot

1:30pm - 2:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist and Longlist author Kevin Young

Daddy's Little Girl, and Other Misfortunes in YA

3:00 pm - 4:15 pm 

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Laura Ruby

To Sing the Idea of All: Walt Whitman in DC

3:00 pm - 4:15 pm 

Featuring Literarian Award Winner and Cave Canem co-founder Cornelius Eady

A Conversation between Chimamanda Ngozi and Ta-Nehisi Coates

4:30pm - 5:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Winner Ta-Nehisi Coates

Distant Lands, Intimate Voices

4:30pm - 5:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Viet Thanh Nguyen

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Rita Dove, National Book Award Finalist

Poetry As Invocation

10:30am - 11:45am

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Ada Limón

Get in Formation: Form in YA Literature

10:30am - 11:45am

Featuring three time National Book Award Finalist Marilyn Nelson

Being the Change You Want to See: The New Literary Leadership

10:30am - 11:45am

Featuring National Book Foundation Executive Director Lisa Lucas

Immigrants / Children of Immigrants

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Finalist and Longlist author Monica Youn

21st Century Troubadours

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Rita Dove

Women Writers Get Gritty

12:00 PM - 1:15 PM

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Jayne Anne Phillips

No Easy Readers: The Challenges of Writing for Children

1:30pm - 2:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Winner William Alexander and National Book Award Longlist author Anne Ursu

The Ghosts of History

1:30pm - 2:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist and 5 Under 35 Honoree Angela Flournoy

A Reading and Conversation with Aracelis Girmay, Tim Seibles, and Danez Smith.

1:30pm - 2:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Tim Seibles

Socially Conscious Fiction

3:00pm - 4:15pm

Featuring National Book Award Longlist author Garth Greenwell

Going for Broke: Working Class Writers on Choosing a Career In The Arts

3:00pm - 4:15pm

Featuring 5 Under 35 Honoree Tiphanie Yanique 

Writing Across Cultures

3:00pm - 4:15pm

Featuring 5 under 35 Honoree Valeria Luiselli 

Conversation with Ross Gay & Tina Chang

3:00pm - 4:15pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Ross Gay

Poetry in the Age of the Drone

4:30pm - 5:45pm

Featuring National Book Award Finalist Solmaz Sharif

Reading with Rita Dove, Terrance Hayes & Ocean Vuong

8:30pm - 10:00pm

Featuring National Book Award Winner Rita Dove, and National Book Award Winner & Finalist Terrance Hayes

Reading with Colum McCann & Margot Livesly

8:30pm - 10:00pm 

 Featuring National Book Award Winner Colum McCann

[dorksndisasters]

One-Shot; Musical Morels

Ok, so. we haven't played our campaign in a while (scheduling conflicts are the bane of my existence) but we've done a couple of oneshots that I am also typing up, because of course I am

this wasn't the first one we did, it was just the quickest to type up lmao. Mushrooms!

(the video of this one is also on Sprokat's twitch channel)

##

 The five of them – Razmatazz, Mhaja, Garth, Aneirin and Aonara – amble along the path along the outskirts of the woods. They’re a few days walk away from the town where they’d helped Finethir, finally having decided to continue on their way.

 Mhaja has wandered off the path to inspect plants at the edge of the forest, only vaguely keeping track of the others.

 As they walk along, they come across a brightly coloured cart at the edge of the road, seemingly abandoned until they see the woman slumped on the road and leaning against the wheel. She’s muttering to herself, wringing her hands as she peers under the cart and across the road.

 At their approach, she looks up and waves them over. “Maybe you can help me? My name is Gwendolyn.” She gets back to her feet and brushes the dust from her skirts.

 “Why yes, of course!” Garth says, smiling.

 “Hey Gwendolyn.” Aonara waves. “What seems to be the problem?”

 “Oh, the singers of my choir have gone missing. We stopped for lunch and I looked away, and they just wandered away.” She turns to squint along the path, as if she’ll suddenly spot them there. “They’re campestris, they’re harmless and very friendly. I’m worried they might have wandered into some kind of danger.”

 “So you… want us to take their place and do the singing for you?” Mhaja asks, wandering across to the group.  

 Gwendolyn looks at Mhaja with something like horror on her face. “No! My campestris are irreplaceable. I would like you to find them.”

 “They’re – they’re the wee mushrooms, aren’t they?” Aonara asks, and gestures with her hands to demonstrate how small she means.

 “Yes. They’re like family to me.” She looks back at the cart and rests a hand against its side. “I can’t leave the cart alone, but if you could look for them, we’ll give you a special concert.”

 “Of course we’ll help,” Aneirin says. “They sound like jolly little fellows that should be protected at all costs because they give joy to many.” He nods. “Let’s accept this challenge and go find these Campestris.”

 Gwendolyn brightens up. “Oh, thank you!”

 “Where did you last see them?”

 “They were just on the cart, and I looked away for a moment.” She looks back down the road in the direction she’d come from. “They might be nearby, if you’d like to search down the road, or perhaps into the forest? They love to mimic, and they will join in a song if they hear one.”

 Aneirin nods and sets off walking. As he walks away, he starts to belt out words in a way that could only generously be called singing. Mostly it is loud and the words are sometimes drawn out over several pitches, which he bounces between with no apparent rhyme nor reason.

 Razmatazz tugs his hat down over his large ears and hurries to keep up with the rest as they follow Aneirin.

 Nothing joins in with Aneirin’s raucous noise, but the party notice a man crouched down by the side of the road. He’s got a drawstring sack in his hands that he appears to be fighting to get closed as something in it struggles against him.

 He pulls it shut and grips it tight as he stands. It writhes before him as he holds it at arm’s length.

 Aonara gasps. “It’s the mushrooms,” she whispers.

 Aneirin calls out to him. “Hello! I believe that bag has something that we are looking for, maybe. Can you tell us what you have in that bag there?”

 “What does it matter to you?” the man asks. “I’m just a man, out walking here.”

 “’Cause you’re a mushroom thief!” Aonara replies.

 “I’m just going to my house! There’s nothing to be suspicious of here.”

 “’Cept for the squirming mushrooms in your bag.”

 “I don’t have to tell you anything.” The man narrows his eyes and then shakes his head, waving a hand as if he’s shooing them away. “There’s nothing in the bag of any use to you, so why does it matter?” He swings the bag over his shoulder.

 “I’m terribly sorry, my good friend,” Garth says. “Forgive my friend here, he is just very forthright. We have been hired to help find some things that someone has lost, and we’re just on the lookout for anything that could be related. We don’t want any trouble, but if we could just check that and make sure that it is indeed not the items that we are seeking, we’ll be on our way.”

 The man considers Garth. “Ok. Well, to be honest with you, I know exactly what these are. They’re campestris. I’m taking them home, to my restaurant, and I’m going to preserve them in a jar to sell to a customer.”

 “You’re a chef?” Razmatazz asks.

 Aonara gasps in horror.

 “I’m going to use them for the next very special customer that comes in,” He rubs his fingers together, winking, “So that my restaurant will gain renown.” He pats the bag. “I’ve heard they’re very flavourful.”

 “Well, you – you see, our client – technically, those belong to our client, so what you’re doing is thievery and also well… yeah, basically you’re stealing someone else’s stuff, so-”

 “Well – look,” the man says, sighing. “They were just in the road, I don’t see the problem with picking mushrooms up in the middle of the road. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” He backs up from the group to turn away.

 “It’s obviously squirming, they don’t want to go with you,” Garth says.

 “They’re fine! They’re-”

 “Mushrooms are friends,” Aonara says. “Not food.”

 Razmatazz tilts his head, wavering a hand almost as if he wants to disagree with her. “Hm.”

 “They’re tasty, they’re good food.” The man scoffs at her. “And I need them to impress my customers. They’re very rare. Practically a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that’s landed on me here.”

 “Can I… offer you a trade for the mushrooms?” Aonara asks. “I’ll give you-” She pauses to count through her coin pouch.

 “Non-sentient mushrooms?” Razmatazz pipes up.

 “Ten gold pieces.” Aonara picks out the coins.

 The man snorts. “Well… considering how much you want these mushrooms, I think they’re worth more than ten gold pieces.”

 Aonara looks into her pouch. “What about eleven gold pieces?”

 He laughs at her. “You’re really getting on my nerves now. I’m going to go, before you try anything else.”

 “Well here’s the thing,” Garth says, stepping forward as if to stop him. “Since they’re mushrooms, they can grow, yes? So instead of cooking up these paltry few right here and now, surely it would make more sense to go into a deal with the owner of them and they could make more of them?”

 “Cultivate the mushrooms.” Aonara nods.

 “Yeah, cultivate them!” Garth gestures at Aonara. “In the long term, this is – this would be a waste, don’t you think?”

 The man sighs and rolls his eyes. “This is a waste of my time!”

Mhaja, who’s been standing behind the others this whole time, shifts as if to walk forward. Razmatazz looks up at her, adjusting their hat so they can see.

 Mhaja stops and studies her hands. “That wouldn’t be very nice,” she says to herself. “Never mind.”

 “Consequences are a bitch,” Razmatazz agrees.

 Garth is continuing on his proposal about cultivating the mushrooms rather than preserving only these few.

 Aonara circles around while the man’s attention is still on Garth. Mhaja joins the conversation, hands behind her back, but the man pays her only passing attention.

 Aonara cuts a slit in the sack on the man’s back and tumbles the campestris into a waiting bag of her own. With them safe in her arms, she runs away, back towards where Gwendolyn waits with her cart.

 Aneirin coughs meaningfully at Garth, jerking his head away.

 Garth nods and finishes his pitch with, “But ultimately it is up to you what you do. But please, don’t hesitate to consider my proposal,” and shakes the man’s hand. Then he turns and strides down the road with Aneirin beside him.

 Mhaja and Razmatazz follow after them, Raz having to half run to keep up with everyone’s fast pace.

#

“We have your campestris!” Aonara calls, running down the road. “Here!” She holds out the sack in her arms.

 “Oh!” Gwendolyn straightens up. “How marvellous!” She opens the sack and out jump two tall yellow mushrooms.

 They stand on the back of the cart and tremble a little, soothing as Gwendolyn strokes their caps.

 “These are the sopranos.” Gwendolyn whistles a few notes at them, and the campestris echo them back at her. “What about the others? Have you had any luck finding the rest of my choir?”

 “Afraid not, it’s just those ones we’ve found so far,” Garth says. ��They were just down the road.” He hesitates. “Keep… keep an eye out for an angry chef.”

 “I decided not to electrocute him.” Mhaja glances back. “But that might have slowed him down.”

 “Why would you electrocute him?” Gwendolyn asks, looking slightly horrified. “He could have had information about the rest of my choir.”

 “Just to incapacitate him.” Mhaja shrugs. “To see what it does to humans.”

 “For research,” Razmatazz says.

 “But we didn’t actually do that, so we could go back and see if he has any information,” Aonara says, giving Mhaja a hard stare.

 “I’m going to look into the forest,” Mhaja says.

 “If you want to do that while we go back and talk to the chef?” Aonara suggests. “And we’ll meet up after.”

 “Yeah, ok.” Mhaja nods.

 She wanders off, singing a song about making bacon pancakes.

 “I will go with her!” Raz says. “Two pairs of eyes and all that.” He rushes to follow the singing dragonborn.

They enter the forest. By the side of the road, the grass had mostly been flattened by passing campsites or grazed short by animals. Within the forest, it grows taller until Razmatazz struggles to see anything beyond it. They rely on following Mhaja’s path and the sound of her singing.

 “Hm,” says Mhaja, stopping singing as she comes across a trail of slime that cuts through the tall grass. “Mucus-y.”

 It leads through the forest on a winding path. Mhaja follows it, pulling out a notebook and jotting down her findings as she goes.

 Razmatazz runs to catch up and hurries along in Mhaja’s path, occasionally offering their own insights on the mucus that sweeps through the grass.

#

The other three follow the path back towards where they left the chef. He’s moved further away, and is now furiously stomping about near where the river’s ford is.

 As they draw closer, they catch snatches of his furious speech. He’s ranting about stupid adventurers taking his prized mushrooms, and hasn’t seemed to notice them yet.

 Aonara slows her walk and does something to just… blend into the surroundings, slipping amongst the trees as they draw closer. “We could… run up behind him and put a bag over his head?” she suggests, as the other two slow beside her. “Ooh, or we could pick up normal mushrooms, put them in the bag and pretend they’re the same mushrooms but they died.”

 “We should make sure they’re not poisonous mushrooms, then,” Aneirin replies, and starts to forage.

 It doesn’t take him long to find a good crop of chestnut mushrooms, which he picks and places in the bag that Aonara holds out. He frowns at some of the mankier looking ones. “I don’t suppose either of you have any sort of magic to make these look like the mushrooms he’d picked up?”

 Aonara shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

 “Our magic users are off in the forest,” Garth says.

 “Should we go and find them?” Aonara hesitates. “Wait.” She glances over at the chef. “Why don’t we just…” She walks across to him. “I’m sorry about taking your bag.” She holds it out to him. “Here you go. In the chaos, the mushrooms sort of… died?”

 He swipes the bag from her hands and opens it up. He stares inside for a long time as the three of them stand there, and then slowly looks back up at Aonara. “Why do you think I’m an idiot?”

 “I can only apologise,” she says. “I thought that I was smarter than you. What we can do though, is we’ll run back and get the real mushrooms and we’ll bring them back if you just wait here for us.”

 “Why would I believe you? You’ve stolen from me, you’ve sneaked up behind me, you’ve lied to me, and you’ve given me rubbish chestnut mushrooms in place of the priceless ones that you stole!” His voice rises with each accusation. “Why would I believe anything you say?”

 “What if we can find you some chicken of the wood mushrooms?”

 “That’s not of any use! I needed the singing ones!”

 “Alright, alright!” Aonara raises her hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’ll go and get them back for you.”

 The chef swings the bag about as if to hit Aonara.

 She ducks and steps back out of range.

 “We told you,” Garth says, his voice dipping into a rumble that raises into a roar. “These mushrooms belong to someone else! You’re stealing them! Stop being so angry!”

 The chef stumbles back, clutching the bag to his chest as he shrinks away from Garth. “I – I’m so sorry, here-” He shoves the bag at Garth and runs from them across the ford.

 “Wait, we should have asked him where the others were.” Aonara steps as if to follow the chef.

 “I think we should rejoin Mhaja and Raz,” Aneirin says. “I don’t think he’s got any idea where the other mushrooms are.

 Garth clears his throat and claps his hands together, dusting them down the front of his coat. “Terribly sorry, fellows, don’t know what came over me there. Let’s go find the others.”

 They make their way into the forest, following the sounds of Mhaja’s singing until they find her.

 She’s staring intently at a glob of mucus that’s she’s found on the ground. In the tall grass beyond her, they spot Raz’s hat as he wanders back and forth, brim tipped up as he stares at the sky. He’s echoing Mhaja’s song in a faint voice, mind clearly elsewhere.

 “Ah, here you are!” Aneirin cries out, stopping beside Mhaja. “Nice to meet you all again. We got… slightly distracted, but crisis averted! We’re all here now.”

 “Mhaja found slime!” Raz pipes up, pushing his way through the grass to join them.

 Aonara fills Raz and Mhaja in on what happened with the chef.

 Raz tilts his head, like he’s trying to work out if this is how people are supposed to interact with each other. “I… see.”

 “That’s what happens, when we split up as a group.” Aonara shrugs, swinging a hand through the air.

 “Alright.” Raz nods.

 “Well,” Mhaja says, “We found this trail of mucus. It’s rather gloopy.” She sticks a claw in it and holds it up to demonstrate the viscosity. “It seems to go all over the forest.”

 Aonara picks up a stick and uses it to draw a very shaky face in the mucus that slowly fills back in.

Garth looks around and climbs up onto a nearby boulder, shading his eyes as he peers both ways along the trail of mucus. “It seems to go into a darker area over there.” He points. “Perhaps a cave?”

 Garth hops down from the boulder and leads the way towards the patch of darkness.

 As they walk closer, the stench hits them. It’s powerful and foul, and the worst thing any of them have smelt in their entire life.

 Garth gags and covers his nose.

 The mound they’re walking towards seems to be moving, albeit incredibly slowly.

 Mhaja reaches out with her staff to poke it. “Hm. I think it’s sleeping,” she says.

 As if to underline her pronouncement, the group hears little bubbling snore-like sounds coming from the mound.

 “Anyone else want to poke it?”

 “… No.” Aneirin says.

 Raz wanders around the mound, pushing their hat back to inspect it more closely. Their eyes dilate as they begin to take in more information, finally spotting things they can make sense of.

 The mound is a cave, seemingly contoured to the creature that sleeps within it. The creature itself is a sleeping snail, grown to a far bigger size than Raz would have thought possible.

 “Intriguing,” he murmurs. “Is this magical in some form, I wonder?” As he listens, he hears faint echoes of the snail’s snoring coming from behind it. “Are there baby snails in there?” he asks.

 “I think that’s probably the mushrooms, Raz,” Mhaja says, having come up behind them.

 “That… would make more sense.” Raz nods. “Perhaps I can climb in…” He steps back, looking for a way over. “If I keep to the shell, it won’t feel that…” He sets his staff against the mound and rests his hat on top of it.

 “I think that’s too tight even for you.”

 “Has anyone got any giant lettuce or something?” Garth asks.

 “I could create an image of another snail before it, so when it wakes – because they’re hermaphroditic – it sees it and just goes to bang it?” Mhaja suggests, hand stroking over the gem in her staff.

 Silence greets her statement.

 “Uhhh…” Aneirin hesitates.

 “I was thinking just conjure up the image of a giant bulb of lettuce and it would then make its way to it,” Garth says.

 “Need to wake it up first.” Aneirin takes a step back, studying his surroundings. “Why don’t we wait until nightfall-”

 “Ooh, ooh, I could set it on fire and we could make giant escargot.” Mhaja palms a small orb of fire, grinning.

 “That could kill the campestris.” Aonara holds out a hand to stop her. “If it is them. Just wait a moment.” She steps closer and sings softly towards the mound, keeping an eye on the snail in case it wakes.

 The snail doesn’t wake, but the echoing snores cut off into a burbling rendition of the song she’s singing.

 “Don’t they sound like they’re underwater?” Aonara asks.

 “A snail this big leaves a lot of mucus.” Razmatazz eyes it uneasily. “And campestris are small.”

 Garth twitches his hand as if he wants to reach out and pet the snail, but he doesn’t. “I think the image of a giant lettuce to lure it out would work. Have you ever met an animal that doesn’t want to eat?”

 “Um…” Mhaja hums, doubtful. “Is it really more likely to be hungry than horny? I’ve studied snails before, some of them are the pickiest eaters in existence.”

“Fine, you may have a point.” Garth does, in fact, pat the snail’s shell. “Hey, buddy.”

 The snail stirs and wakes up, eye stalks extending and turning to look at Garth.

 “How are you doing?” Garth continues speaking to it.

 The snail shifts just enough that they can see the campestris in the shade of the mound. They’re submerged in a deep pool of the mucus and unable to move very far.

 “Now that you’ve made friends with it, can you lure it out?” Aonara asks.

 “How – how do I lure it out? Just make a giant fucking lettuce!”

 “Fine, I’ll make a giant fucking lettuce!” Mhaja rolls her eyes.

 “I could cast darkness,” Raz says, a bit doubtful as they pull their hat back on. “It might make it easier to get the snail out?”

 “It won’t be able to see the lettuce in the dark.”

 “Oh. True.”

 “Why don’t we try the lettuce first,” Aonara says, “See if it even works?”

Mhaja points her staff ahead of the snail, and a giant lettuce just appears before the snail, out of reach enough that it’ll have to leave the cave to reach it.

 Almost excruciatingly slowly, the snail starts to move. It leaves a fresh trail of mucus behind it that spreads out from the cave.

 Raz takes a couple of quick steps back before he can be caught in the flood of mucus and swept off his feet.

 Garth pats the snail again as it starts to move and then stands, a little bit awkward, as it continues to move slowly past him.

 It waggles an eyestalk at him, and Garth waves a hand in return, and then starts to attempt eating the lettuce.

 These campestris are stout and a brilliant shade of red, even through the layer of mucus that covers them.

 Aonara reaches in and picks them out. “Now,” she says to them, “You’re going in the back for the moment, but we’ll clean you off and take you back home.”

 The campestris mimic her words back at her in a higher pitch.

 “Aw I love them!” Aonara coos.

 “Maybe you should clean them off first, before they get… snail goo over everything,” Aneirin suggests.

 It doesn’t take long to clean them – the campestris mimicking words back and forth, interspersed with bell-like laughter – and then Aonara sets them carefully in the bag.

 “Shall we keep going back and forth to Gwendolyn?” she asks. “How many more are there?”

 “Two more sets,” Raz says.

 “I think we should probably just go for the rest,” Aneirin replies.

 “Rather than boomeranging?” Raz nods.

 “Goodbye, Slimy.” Aneirin rests a hand near but not on the snail’s shell.

 “Big Jim.”

 Aneirin hesitates, then nods. “Yes, I prefer Big Jim.”

 The snail does not look up, intent on trying to eat the mirage of a lettuce that Mhaja had given it.

 As they walk away, Garth hesitates and pulls five rations from his bag, laying them on the ground in the centre of the lettuce image. “There you go,” he says, patting Big Jim some more.

 Big Jim seems to watch Garth walk away with a solemn tilt to its eyestalks, before returning to its meal.

 Aneirin gestures for the bag containing the campestris. “I want to try something.” He opens it and softly sings in, “Can you tell us where your friends went~”

 “We don’t know,” the campestris sing back in their alto voices. “We hopped here and were caught in the goop. Everyone went in different directions.”

 “Maybe we should go back to the path then,” Aneirin says.

 “If they all went in many directions…” Raz nods.

 “You don’t think they need to eat, do they?” Aonara takes the bag back, carefully settling it on her shoulders.

 “Probably not.” Mhaja squints at the bag. “I should think they’ll be fine in the dark there.”

 “If we are indeed heading back to the path, we can simply return them to Gwendolyn now,” Garth says, “She knows best how to look after them.”

#

 “We saved these from a snail!” Raz says, as Aonara lets the red campestris out of the bag and onto the cart beside the others.

 “Oh that’s amazing! Thank you so much, you’ve brought my altos back!” Gwendolyn fusses over them, checking that they are unharmed.

 They hop up beside the others, joining with their small tune.

 Garth walks past the cart and across the road to the other verge. Raz follows him, tilting their hat back and twitching their ears back and forth.

 “I think I hear something,” Raz says, turning to try and work out where it’s coming from. “Not just those campestris, but others. They’re a different tone.” They take a couple of steps, and then turn back towards the forest. “They’re that way!” They point for emphasis, holding onto their hat before it can tip backwards off their head.

 With Raz in the lead, they head back into the forest and through until they emerge into a clearing littered with sprawling bushes and overgrown wildflowers. In the centre is a rough mound of huge boulders that tower higher than the trees surrounding them.

 There’s a pair of green campestris at the edge of the plateau, just visible from where the party gathers. They’re cooing into the wind, joining the faint song of the other campestris.

 Mhaja wanders closer to the rock formation and starts to climb. At first she does quite well, digging in her claws to the pitted surface, finding handholds that don’t crumble as she leans on them. Then she pauses in her climb and looks up to track out her next move, and the worn ledge she has her weight crumbles away.

 Mhaja falls, tumbling back down the rock to the ground. She gets back to her feet and dusts herself off.

 “I’ll… I’ll give that a shot,” Aneirin says, stepping forward.

 He finds a few holds, but falls almost as soon as he takes his foot off the ground.

 Raz hesitates, looks up at the height of the pillar and mutters what could be equations to themself as they try to work something out. “Garth?” they ask, setting down their staff. “Would you like to try throwing me up?”

 Garth shrugs. “Alright, sure. Fastball special, coming right up.” He picks Raz up off the ground.

 Raz pulls their knees to their chest, their pupils blown wide as they try (and fail) to hide their grin.

 Garth launches Raz up and at the rock, but he doesn’t quite get it right and Raz hits the rockface instead of reaching the top. “Sorry! I’m a bit out of practice, it’s been years.”

 Raz squeaks and scrabbles for a handhold. They see over the top for a second, and past the two campestris they spot several animal carcasses and a human corpse before they slip back over the edge and fall to the bottom.

 They don’t quite bounce all the way down – it’s more of a slip ‘n’ scramble – but they roll as they hit the ground and take a minute when they stand back up to readjust their hat, dust themself off, and pick up their staff.

 “There are corpses up there,” they announce. “The campestris are shying away from them. One is human, the rest appear to be animal.”

 Garth circles around the base of the formation and finds the other side to have a much gentler looking ascent. “There’s an easier way here,” he calls back around, sounding a little sheepish.

 Raz joins him first, followed by Aonara.

 Garth tests the rockface gingerly. “I’ll go first, shall I?”

 The ascent is easier from this side, and Garth reaches the top relatively quickly.

 The corpses are days old and rotting in the sunlight; the stench is intense. Garth pulls an embroidered silk handkerchief out from a pocket and uses it to cover his nose, then crouches to examine the carcasses.

 Raz scrambles up beside Garth and circles around to look at the human corpse.

 “Smells like my father’s cooking,” Garth says, in pained tones.

 “Your father cooks?” Raz asks, almost absentmindedly as they make their own investigation.

 “Not that well.”

 Raz hums and prods the human corpse’s arm aside, revealing a puncture wound in its abdomen, with sickly lines leading out along the lines of its veins. “Poison,” they say softly. “That’s… fun.”

 “Oh no,” Garth agrees, sounding worried. He glances across at the campestris.

 They’re small and green, and don’t seem to want to move from where they’re perched on the edge of the plateau.

 “Hey, all the greenies are up on top of the rock.” He nudges Raz. “Because we’re the best.”

 Raz laughs lightly as Garth shuffles across to the campestris.

 “Hey there folks, if you’d like to just settle up on my shoulders, we’ll get you back down and straight back to your friends.” Garth offers them a hand.

 A winged shadow circles the outcrop, accompanied by a nasally sounding roar.

 Garth and Raz look up to see a green wyvern swooping in as if to attack them.

 Mhaja reacts first, throwing her hand up with a shout and firing four rays of fire that streak towards the wyvern. Two soar past it, but one splashes against its side and scorches the scales there. The last smacks into its wing, near the joint, and almost seems to burn a hole through the membrane.

 Aneirin throws his own spell at it, creating a flash of light that drilled into the scorched scales underneath its wing.

 Garth hesitates, measuring the space between himself and the wyvern, hand on the hilt of his great sword. Then he shakes his head and takes the crossbow from his back, lining up a shot. The campestris climbing up his arm make him fumble the shot and it goes wide as he swears.

 The campestris whimper out a mournful song in his ear as they huddle together, trembling and trying to make themselves even smaller.

 Garth puts his crossbow away and lifts his great sword, the flames igniting along its length, and stands defensively with it before him.

 Aonara slams the base of her staff into the ground and strips of yellow energy rise up to entangle the wyvern, trapping its wings against its side and pulling it to the ground. As her spell brings it to the ground, Aonara walks closer to it.

 The wyvern lashes out with its tail as Aonara walks within range and it strikes her along her leg.

 She cries out, almost dropping to her knee.

 Razmatazz steps up to the edge of the plateau so he can see the wyvern on the ground and pulls out his canteen, upending a splash of water onto the rockface. He crafts it into a knife and freezes it into ice, then points it down at the wyvern. Satisfied with how it’s lined up, Raz flings it down, following through the motion with his hand.

 It slices down the wyvern’s neck and into its foot, and Raz nods in satisfaction.

 Mhaja swipes her free hand from behind the gem in her staff, summoning four fragments of fire that she sends shooting at the wyvern. One of them smacks it in the side of the head and must hit a weak point, because although the others soar past it, the wyvern bursts into flames that race along the length of it body as it dies.

 The campestris trill in Garth’s ear, letting out little chirps of excitement.

 “Just the bass ones left now,” Aneirin says.

 “Yes.” Aonara stands up, gingerly testing her leg.

 Mhaja starts to look for any sign that could lead them onwards, and turns up faint boot prints that lead back into the dark forest. “Over this way?”

 Raz and Garth climb back down from the plateau, carefully avoiding the carcasses, and rejoin the rest of the party.

#

The prints lead them through the woods and to a camp that is enclosed within a ring of overgrown shrubs and twisted trees. There are several figures moving between the ragged tents, muttering to one another between bursts of gruff laughter that penetrate the forest’s silence.

 The campestris on Garth’s shoulder mimic the laughter as they draw closer.

 Mhaja grins and points at one of the figures. “Where are the fucking mushrooms?” she whispers into a small orb of magic that appears before her.

 The figure looks around. “Where – what was that? Did you say anything, Toby?”

 “No, wasn’t me,” replies another, thoroughly uninterested. “I’m just havin’ my beer.”

 “It wasn’t Toby,” Mhaja whispers.

 The figure starts to his feet and wanders away from the fire, searching to find who’s whispering to him.

 “Where are the fucking mushrooms?” Mhaja continues, grinning.

 The man is getting visibly distressed, shaking his head and clicking one finger by his ear as if to drown out Mhaja’s voice. He starts to run, beginning to circle out of the camp towards where the group are hiding.

 The rest of the people around the campfire seem to laugh at him, settling back down and relaxing as they chat with each other.

 “Where are the fucking mushrooms?” Mhaja asks again.

 The man spins around and yells back at the group around the fire. “Where have you put the mushrooms?”

 “They’re where you left them,” Toby replies, frowning. “We’re drying them over the fire. They’ll be done in a minute.”

 “Oh hell naw,” Garth says. He tucks a hand around the campestris on his shoulders, which have begun to squeal in fear.

 “Shall – shall we try and talk them out of it?” Raz asks, hands gripping his staff.

 “We should try and talk,” Aneirin replies.

 “So I shouldn’t just set the whole place ablaze?” Mhaja tilts her head.

 “That would burn the mushrooms up!” Aonara says.

 “Well…” Mhaja draws the word out.

 “We’re equal numbers,” Garth says, thinking it through. “I cannot abide innocent people – even if they’re mushrooms – getting roasted over a fire.” Without waiting for the others, he steps out of the tree line and around the side of the camp, to where he can be seen walking towards them. “Gentlemen!” he calls out. “If you please, we are some divine intervention. Surely you do not want to be cooking those mushrooms there, because if you continue in your ways doing this,” Garth pulls out his great sword, igniting the flames along its length, “Then we will have to burn you.”

 One reaches for his sword, seeming to battle with his own fear to get that far. “Why – why do you care so much about these mushrooms? We just want to have dinner and a good time.”

 Mhaja surrounds herself in silvery mist and takes a step, disappearing from the treeline and then reappearing beside the fire. “Because we care.”

 “As I said,” Garth smiles, “Di-vine intervention!” He takes two steps forward.

 The man flinches and drops his sword into the fire.

 Above the fire, in a small cage, are the two campestris. They appear to have passed out from the heat, and are beginning to look shrivelled and dried out.

 Aneirin has walked around the opposite side of the camp, and now takes the opportunity to walk forward. “Fellows. Friends. My friends here are very emotionally attached to these mushrooms, ok? They’re very… they mean a lot to them, to hear them sing, and ah… if you guys just want food? We can get you food. We have rations, and old cuts of meat that might be more filling than those mushrooms up there.” He glances across at Garth. “My friends, as I said, are very emotional. And angry. We just want the mushrooms. Let’s say we trade and we’ll be on our way.”

 “S-ssure, yeah, fine, take them.” He stumbles back from the fire, and the others of his group do the same. “We don’t – just crack on, we’re going to have our beer over here. Thank you for the food, and we’ll – yeah, we’ll leave you to it.” He fumbles back out of the way.

 Aneirin nods and steps forward, handing out a packet of rations to each man.

 Mhaja reaches a hand out and plucks the cage from above the dancing flames, pulling it open. She doesn’t even to notice the flames as they lick along the back of her scaled hand. The campestris – these ones stout and blue – barely react as she picks them up and takes them out of the cage.

 Aneirin steps up to meet her. “Did anyone take damage during the wyvern attack?”

 “I did,” Aonara says, joining them by the fire. She’s still favouring her leg as she walks.

 Aneirin nods and speaks a low word. Light swirls around Aonara’s leg and the campestris, being absorbed into them.

 Aonara sets her leg down and tests it. “Thank you.”

 The campestris look refreshed and revived, waking up and beginning to sing with happiness. The ones on Garth’s shoulders start to chorus with them.

 “I suppose we should return to Gwendolyn,” Aneirin says.

 “That’s all of them.” Aonara nods.

 Garth extinguishes his blade and puts it away.

 Mhaja turns about and spots the man that she’d been whispering to. In the same tones, she hisses across, “Don’t be a cunt.”

 He starts to sob, trying to stifle the noise as he hides behind the tents.

#

 Back on the roadside, Gwendolyn is pacing again, wringing her hands together. The four campestris on the cart are singing as if to soothe her, but it doesn’t look as though they’re helping much.

 As the party draw near, the campestris on Garth’s shoulders yelp with glee and jump down, hopping across the grass towards the cart.

 Mhaja almost curls a hand out as if to stop them.

 “We made a promise,” Raz says to her, almost sounding scandalised.

 “Oh, fine,” Mhaja replies. “But thinks of the research we could do!”

“Oh, you found them all!” Gwendolyn turns towards the party, beaming. “Thank you so much!”

 On the cart, the campestris have reunited and are hopping about each other, singing back and forth.

 “Can we – may I offer you a song of theirs, in thanks?” Gwendolyn pushes stray hairs back behind her ears.

 The party emphatically agrees.

 “I have a counter proposal,” Aneirin says. “Why don’t we, to make sure that these campestris don’t run off again, accompany you to the next place you’re travelling to, and help set up a big event with a party and everything?” His eyes light up at the mere idea of the party they’ll throw.

 Gwendolyn nods. “I’d be ever so grateful. But – would you like a song right now, as a preview?”

 “Yeah!” Garth nods.

 Gwendolyn taps her hand against the side of the cart to get the campestris attention. They scramble into a neat row and sound off in their pairs, making sure that they’re in tune with each other.

 “Our new song, alright?” Gwendolyn says, and counts them in.

 The song is ethereal, filled with polyphonic textures, and sang in a language none of the party recognise. As the campestris sing, green mist swirls up on the road beside the cart that coalesces into a mass of opaque light that something steps through.

 The creature stands on two shrivelled legs, its skin leeched grey. Its arms are stick-thin, its fingers contorted into claws, and it’s hunched under what appears to be a death shroud. Its face might once have been human, but it’s now stretched into a horrifying visage, unnaturally elongated. Its eyes are milky ovals that stare blankly at the party.

 The campestris shriek and tumble backwards into the cart, hiding. The portal disappears.

 “A bodak!” Gwendolyn cries out.

 “What?” Mhaja stares at it, horrified.

 “Why are your mushrooms summoning portals to the Shadow Realm?” Raz screeches.

 “Why would you do that?” Garth almost wails, unsheathing his great sword.

 “Sure, we’ll just sing you a song – of Death!” Raz continues to ramble as they step back, bringing their staff up in front of them.

 Mhaja breathes fire at the bodak as it lunges towards the party, setting its shroud ablaze.

 Aneirin summons his spectral weapon, which takes the form of a massive fruity cocktail in a coconut shell, complete with a little umbrella and a piece of pineapple hanging over the side, and smacks it into the bodak’s head. Some of the liquid splashes out, hissing as it hits the bodak and then the flames still licking up its shroud.

 He then swings his mace about and smacks it into the bodak’s side, knocking it slightly off-kilter.

 The bodak screeches and throws itself at Aneirin, who easily avoids the flailing attack.

 Aonara reaches for a thistle growing by the side of the road and snaps it out into a thorny whip. She takes a step forward and lashes it about the bodak, tugging back to make sure the thorn dig in deep.

 Garth’s great sword ignites in his hands as he runs forward to meet the bodak, screaming. He feints and the bodak follows it, only to have Garth’s great sword slash up and across its other side, leaving fire burning through its desiccated flesh in its wake.

 Garth attacks again without giving it a moment’s rest and whips his sword around to take off its head.

 The bodak falls before him, crumbling to the ground, but Garth continues to attack until the flames turn it to nothing more than ash.

 Raz quietly dispels the magic they’d been gathering for a spell and rests their staff back on the ground. “Maybe,” they say, turning to look up at Gwendolyn, “We don’t sing that song again?”

 “I’m so sorry, I had no intention to open the portal,” she says, words tripping over themselves in her haste. “I’d just recently bought that song, and I wanted to give you a preview of our next performance in thanks. It-” She hesitates, looking back at the cart where the campestris are slowly coming out of hiding- “has happened before, that they’ve summoned portals, but I thought with a new song that… wouldn’t happen.” Gwendolyn clasps her hands together. “I am so sorry, I truly didn’t intend that to happen. Thank you, again.”

 From the cart, the campestris echo her thanks.

 “You’re welcome,” Aonara pitches her voice high as she waves back at the campestris.

Aneirin turns towards her, resting his mace on his shoulders. He squints at her, but takes her at her word. “Our pleasure. No problem. Always good to help out the people who bring joy and fun to others. It’s one of the best things about life itself, so.” He shrugs.

 “Please, let us give you a lift onwards, to the next town at least? And the concert there, of course.”

 The party agree, and they set off down the road with Gwendolyn, the campestris singing softly in the cart behind them.