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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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Which Tectomancy Saga race do you belong to?

Let's play a little game! Each culture in The Tectomancy Saga is blessed with a Divine Magic from their goddess. Pick which one you'd want to be able to use, and check under the read more to find out a bit about which Tectomancy Saga culture you belong to!

Find out what you picked under the cut!

If you picked TECTOMANCY you are HUMAN

Humans in the world of The Tectomancy Saga are known for their great architectural feats, such as the ringed island city of Leirsham and the great marker-columns which they use for navigation. Tectomancy is wielded and passed down in secret by members of the royal family. Congrats on becoming a Tectus! Did you marry Almyra? Releine won't be pleased.

If you picked ILLUSION you are an ALFR

The Alfar are mostly native to the rocky plains and deserts. Their vast, mostly-underground cities are concealed by enormous, powerful illusions. They lay out their dead in an ever-expanding pattern, each town's centre a mausoleum, as they believe this permits them to communicate with their ancestors. They have stick-thin torsos and necks, as well as inner eyelids, and tripartite ears which they can move independently.

If you picked ENCHANTMENT you are a DEMON

Demons mostly live underground, in the warm places near the base of the world. At the very centre of their society lies Hell, their capital city. Their reputation as tricksters and tempters is unfounded, and their culture is quite firmly based in trust - you do get the occasional rogue causing havoc on the surface, but there are equally as many trying to use their powers for good. They come in many different forms - tall, short, wings, no wings, hooves, no hooves, a million colours and shapes of horn. Their sclera are all pure black, however. Demons also have the curious habit of naming themsleves after virtues and traits when they come of age.

If you picked CONJURATION you are a GENOMOS

These guys probably don't reach your hip. They have wide, drooping ears and a heavy focus on academia. Every specialisation you could ever dream of is taught at their university cities, and their primary export is geniuses. The person who's at the tippy-top of their field will get named a Genius, granted the power of conjuration by their Archdean, and sent off to spread their talent through the world.

If you picked NECROMANCY you are UNDEAD

Four hundred years ago, a shadowy cloud swept over the edge of the world on the edge of the human realm. People touched by it were changed - they didn't age, they didn't die. Some hungered for flesh and blood. Some found themselves burned by sunlight. The land rotted below their feet as the plague spread westwards, until the entire eastern border was quarantined. Scarce few among the people there found that they could now speed up and slow biological processes.

If you picked GRAVITURGY you are a DROICH

The Droichs like the icy mountains at the north rim, where they live symbiotically with the Dragons. After the Dragons turned on humankind, they moved into Droichish territory for protection. The Droichs were cautious at first, but now exist in a welcoming partnership with their scaly friends, using their power over gravity to mine materials to repair their hides with. In return, the Dragons fly them all over the world for trade.

If you picked CHRONOMANCY you are a GOBELIN

Gobelin language is hard to translate for most people. They communicate in sped-up time, so quickly that most can't process it. Because of this they function like schools of fish in small groups, coming to consensus on who should do what when extremely quickly. They excel at large projects, but do poorly when it comes to individuality. Gobelins are very much cogs in their machines. As a result they have names like eats-loudly or sings-in-the-shower for easy identification.

If you picked DIVINATION you are an ORKIM

The Orkus are typically gentle folk, large and blue with cute little tusks, content to farm and craft in their swampy, marshy stilt cities. However, their divine magic is aquired only via strength, which has forced combat to become part of their culture. Their warriors - battle-sisters - follow the rallying cries of their battle-mothers, the strongest among them, who their mother-goddess has granted the sight - the power to see possible futures. Most, like Yurhagh for example, would rather live a quiet life, as say... a fashion designer.

If you picked SPIRIT MAGIC you are BEASTFOLK

Part-animal, part-beast, though they have no specific rules on which part is which. They live in seclusion somewhere deep in the Arboric ocean, very rarely appearing outside their own society. People who go looking for them often disappear.

Tectomancy Saga Tag List (DM to be added or removed!): @indy-gray @sam-glade

#Writeblr #The Tectomancy Saga #MWC&C #Made with Crown and Claw #BBS&B #Bound by Stone and Blood #Writing #Writing fantasy

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tisiphonewolfe · 8 months

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Where do you live in The Tectomancy Saga?

Pick what sounds nicest from the options below to find out which major settlement you live in from the world of The Tectomancy Saga!

Locations and descriptions unveiled below the cut!

1. Leirsham

You live in the ringed city of Leirsham, the human capital. It's built into a hilly island, raised out of Lake Simul a millenia ago by King Artol Tectus. The city falls in tiers, rings around the island divided by walls; The docks and storehouses; the merchants' district; the residential area; the academics district; the upper city, and the palace. As a hub of human trade and travel across the gigantic lake, it's always bustling!

2. The Genom University

The Genomic people take 'university city' very seriously. The entire city is a university filled with lecture halls and libraries and laboratories, where Genemos study hoping to attain their people's divine magic through rigorous scientific research. Its central feature is the archive, a library where all of Genomic history is stored - through the power of conjuration, this is quite literal. It is said that entire historic buildings can be summoned from the archive.

3. Ipurrol

Ipurrol lies in Versewelt, near the edge of the world. It was cut off from the rest of human civilisation 400 years ago, when a plague swept the land, turning its victims into various forms of bloodthirsty ghoul. Those who remain have learned to live with their condition and keep living on, rebuilding their community together. The Vismoores are the local nobles, who live alone in the castle that looms over the village - even among oddities, those two are odd.

4. Athyran

You live in the Alvian city of Athyran. On its surface, surrounded by desert, its grand architecture dazzles tourists, and baffles them by appearing to be abandoned; most of the city resides below the surface in cool caves, hidden by an illusion. The buildings extend below the earth, making it a forest of towers among glowing formations of crystals. Their cuisine is quite mushroom-heavy. This city represents the centre of the 'pattern' which Alvians bury their dead in across their lands.

5. North's Edge

North of human lands, in arctic tundra, wintery wastes, and snow-covered rocky mountains, the Droichs live in peaceful alliance with Dragons. The Dragons fled from humanity, their former allies, 900 years ago, and formed a partnership with Droichs. The Droichs mine to maintain the dragon's scales and hides with metal and stone; the Dragons serve as defence and transportation for the Droichs. They make their home nestled into a cave-pocked ravine, where Dragons and their Droichish riders gather around the fire together.

6. Hell

The Demonic city of Hell is far below the suface, near the very axis of the world. Its sloping side is marred with holes like a honeycomb, through which the swirling blue mists of the edge of the world creep. Lit by glowing plants and lava flows, the city is built into the rock like a warren, with only gothic spires and roofs peeking out above the ground. Due to the Demonic magic of enchantment, you have to be very careful who you talk to and what you say. Demons though, have this down to a fine art, and natter endlessly to each other.

7. The Hollow

Formally 'Colossus' Hollow', because it looks like a giant kicked a huge hole in a hill and people built a city there. Sat on the border between human lands and Alvian ones, and with a clear view to the Arboric Ocean, just about anyone and everyone could turn up there. With nobody quite able to lay a claim to its leadership, it is more-or-less ruled by an organised crime gang known as 'The Robes'. Their own operations take place in other cities, but their rules for everyone else just say "If you fuck this place up for everyone else, we're coming for your head."

8. Gorzlun Kudh

One of the largest Orken communities; its name means 'Risen City'. Made almost entirely of drenchwood, a form of moisture-resistant wood, it rises out of a great swamp on thick stilts. It is home to the Oracles, wizened Orken elders who have practised the art of future-sight for centuries. It is also home to the battle-mothers, and their endless raiding gangs of battle-sisters. Most older Orkus remember a time when it was not like this. They farmed, they relaxed, they made things with their hands, and they helped their neighbours. Maybe one day it'll be like that again.

#writeblr #the tectomancy saga #writing #bbs&b #mwc&c #made with crown and claw #writing fantasy #writers of tumblr #writeblr poll

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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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Made With Crown And Claw: WIP Intro

Original fiction - The Tectomany Saga Book One

Pitch: A Princess ends up locked in a tower, but the dragon is a girl she used to fancy.

Genre: High Fantasy

Word Count: 130k

Staus: Fourth draft complete

Releine Sholt is a soldier who can't find a purpose for her life beyond putting it on the line. She is hand-picked to be the new guard captain for the capricious Princess Almyra Tectus, with one key stipulation - she must never speak to her, on threat of dire punishment.

The Tectus family was blessed by the goddess Ialme with divine magic that can alter the forms of creatures and objects - something Almyra consistently fails at. Her father is determined to find his daughter a worthy spouse to continue that lineage.

Releine and Almyra find themselves embroiled in the scemes of goddesses, immortal witches, assassins, and treacherous nobles while dealing with their burgeoning attraction to one another.

Features:

🐲 DRAGONS!

🐲 Sapphic romance and non-cis characters

🐲 There was only one bed: Hard Mode

🐲 A heist

🐲 World-bending divine magic

🐲 The trans elf anti-pope

🐲 Intrigue, schemes, and mysteries

Content Warnings (CW): Body horror, gore, lifechanging injury, violence.

Character Intros

Releine || Almyra || Jessa || Tenacity || More to come . . .

Setting

The Tectomancy Saga takes place in a bowl-shaped world, with nothing below the rim but swirling mists, and a vast, deep forest spanning the middle.

Hundreds of years ago, the peoples of the world were each blessed by their goddess (or witch, or genius as some like to argue) with a divine magic that has shaped their culture. Now the world is decaying, and a struggle for control over the magics has begun.

Taglist (DM to be added or removed): @indy-gray @sam-glade

First chapter below the cut

For centuries, scientists and philosophers in the Academic Ring of Leirsham vastly agreed that the world was round. The bright lights that decorate our skies at night must be the glimmering lights of far-off cities - the sun lazily circles the interior of this sphere, loyally followed by its lunar companion.

This was the accepted notion until one brave explorer found the edge of the world; high in the mountains to the east, beyond dead and decaying lands into which humans rarely dared to venture, she saw the truth - the world is a vast bowl.

Blue mists boiled and churned far below, creeping around the sheer cliff edge as the brave explorer dangled her legs off the edge, frozen in wonder and fear, sure that any moment she’d tumble down into their greedy embrace and be forever forgotten, left to the mysteries below.

Not far from where the explorer had sat, nestled away in the mountains, a stream bubbles up from under the ground. It bumbles its way through the valleys where snow Alfar purportedly made their home, and through the rocky tundra that hosted sturdy mountain Droichs. From there, it rages and rumbles through the plains - a fork of it taking a detour to trundle through deep forests in the middle of the bowl, past the territory of the elusive forest Alfar and into the dense, tangled, and gloomy places where Beastfolk roam. The first branch becomes the River Ilt; it thunders once more, through hills and farmland, before depositing itself into Lake Simul, where humans chose to build their capital city.

Across the bridge, to the hill-island in the centre of the lake. Up the cliff, through the great stone rings of the city; the guard outposts; the residential district; the merchants’ and artificers’ marketplace; the Guilds’ and the Academic Rings; the military barracks; the homes of the rich and the noble; and lastly, the palace.

In one courtyard, in a corner of the palace walls, in a line of steely soldiers and mercenaries, Releine Sholt was staring at a slightly smug statue and trying very hard not to move.

❖

The previous night, she had slammed her fists into the commander’s desk and growled; “This is a ridiculous idea, Sir. I didn’t join up to hold umbrellas and open doors for the King’s brat.”

Hidrim Grant had levelled a tired gaze over his reading spectacles and put his quill back in the ink-pot with his meaty, scarred hand. “Careful, Sholt. You’re talking about the Princess of our realm, heir apparent. And all that. Shouldn’t talk about her disrespectfully, I suppose. Besides, she’s older than you.”

“No, sir”, Releine had complained through clenched teeth. “But everyone knows she’s a brat.”

“Hmm. Well, don’t look at it like that. This is an honour, soldier - most people would kill for this opportunity.” Grant had blown the ink dry on the hastily-scribbled missive in front of him and dropped it into a grimy ‘out’ tray. “It’s easy work for an officer’s pay.”

Releine had clenched her fists as her mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times. “Officer’s pay . . . ?”

“Yup.”

“You’re taking pity on me.”

Grant had rubbed the wrinkles of exhaustion from his brow. “I won’t lie. I know your family situation, yeah. That’s not all there is to it though.” He had gotten up and moved closer to her, perching on the edge of his desk companionably. “You are the best this company has. You’ve excelled in your training, you’re a smart lass, you’ve seen combat - well, some combat. Enough. Most importantly though, you exercise discretion and you know how to keep your mouth shut.”

Releine had said nothing. Grant had studied her expression - cold, deep eyes peered out over an arched nose. A scar graced her freckled cheeks from the corner of an eye down to her heavy jawline. Her thin lips were pursed, and her forehead creased between her dark eyebrows. Grant had known the kid since she was knee-height and knew that this look meant: “I’m trying to appear defiant in a poor attempt to hide the fact that I’m considering it.” In many ways, she hadn’t changed much.

“Look,” Grant had pressed, “It’s only a selection anyway. There will be at least a dozen other soldiers there from the other companies. Probably some from the mercenary guild too. It’s not like you’re signing on the dotted line just by going to the thing.”

The forehead-creases had deepened.

“It’s worth a shot, no? Just see how it is.”

Muscled arms had folded over her chest.

“Don’t make me order you.”

Grant had breathed an internal sigh of relief as the girl’s tall, awkward frame collapsed backwards onto a creaking wooden chair. Maybe this would work out after all. “Fine”, she had sighed with resignation, “I’ll do it.” Hastily she had added “Sir”, after a moment’s pause.

Lamplight had flickered over the pocked oak panels of Grant’s office. “Good. Well. That’s settled then. So let’s go over the rules.” Releine had raised an eyebrow as Grant continued. “The King is very particular about the conduct of the Royal Guards, so listen closely . . . ”

❖

With the commander’s advice circling in her head, Releine had arrived at the palace this crisp late-spring morning. Vouched for by commanders and guild leaders, the soldiers were ushered through the lush grounds by hushed staff, leaves crunching under heavy leather boots and clanking sabatons.

Releine craned her neck at the palace; this was the first time she’d seen it up close. It rose from the crest of the hill like a great patch of mushrooms, seeming not built, but grown. A statue in front of her was similarly hewn out of the ground, not atop the flagstones, or embedded in them, but part of them. The stonework betrayed not the impact of a chisel, but the touch of a fingertip. New styles of magnificence had been added over the centuries according to the occupants’ tastes, creating a grandiose hodge-podge of clashing columns, balconies, arches, and windows, all fighting to dictate the overall style - which ultimately was that this was the residence of a group of people with far too much time and money on their hands. Releine enjoyed thinking that all that investment hadn’t stopped the place from being ugly.

A tense silence had fallen over the lines of soldiers - she assumed that they had all had similar lectures from their superiors to what Commander Grant had given her last night. With this knowledge, there wasn’t even an uneasy shuffling. Nobody muttered. Nobody twitched. Barely anybody even dared to chance a breath.

The rule of utmost import that Releine held steady in her head right now was this: “Do not speak in the presence of the Princess, not even if you’re spoken to. Don’t react to her in any way other than to follow her commands. For all other purposes, you are a plank of wood. You got that, Sholt? She’s going to try it on with you, you know. She wants that reaction. Don’t give it to her. You don’t want to end up like the last one.”

Grant had not specified what had happened to the last one.

Whatever the reason for this arcane rule, it would apply to Releine throughout her service here, should she be lucky enough to receive job of personal guard to Her Highness Princess Almyra Tectus, heir to the throne, darling of the city, beloved of the people, and spoiled royal extraordinaire. It made sense to Releine, quite suddenly, why she was only ever seen waving from a distance, stood behind her daddy on some balcony, or trapped behind a carriage door; for whatever reason, the King would not allow his daughter to be sullied by hearing common voices. The money, she thought, had bloody better be worth it.

Almyra Tectus flounced into the courtyard on the stately heels of her father, His Majesty King Ifys Tectus, the thirty-second king of Humankind. Releine barely acknowledged King Ifys Tectus and his many titles being smoothly announced by an unassuming herald. Her response to the man himself was purely automatic - ankles together, back straight, salute held at a perfect angle, entirely at attention - the muscular mercenary-looking woman next to her didn’t do quite so well, taking a moment to react and awkwardly toss a salute into the air. Releine’s eyes flickered briefly over the King - to be fair, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who intended to hold anyone’s attention for long. For all purposes, he looked more like a guild money-keeper than royalty. He wore a stuffy grey suit, a shirt with ruffled sleeves, and a blue cravat - for that splash of colour to show he could be fun, she supposed. His thick ceremonial cloak was draped messily over his shoulders and very much looked like it didn’t want to be there either, but we have to make this work, Your Majesty. No crown was atop his graying hair - an understated silver circlet hid above his furrowed brow. An awkward half-smile peeked through his goatee as he scanned the courtyard of people before him. If he’d offered them a cheeky wink, Releine wouldn’t have been surprised.

But Releine’s fleeting glance at the King was eclipsed by her. Almyra Tectus was a woman of about her age, though the way she skipped through the courtyard was reminiscent of a child at play. She had a wave of ginger hair and bright, round green eyes that sparkled below a jewelled tiara and above full pink cheeks. A purple shawl was tied in a pretty bow over the puffiest, most ruffly periwinkle dress she had ever seen, with the hint of some very impractical shoes going on somewhere in the explosion of petticoats below. And she was short - Releine decided that whoever had sculpted, painted, or otherwise portrayed her royal visage had been carefully instructed to add a few inches to her height and just that bit more classical goddess-archetypal beauty, thank you. Her scan of the courtyard differed from her father’s - she blew hair out of her face and fiddled with her necklace as her eyes flickered from person to person. Her father’s half-smile said “absent-minded”. Almyra’s said “This is the most interesting thing that has happened to me all week and I’m ready to get into some mischief.” Releine stared at her, probably for far too long, as those green eyes flicked over to her. Snapping back to reality, she quickly turned her gaze directly ahead and pretended she had always been looking at absolutely nothing, not even the stones in the wall ahead of her, a technique known and practised by most soldiers for exactly such ceremonial occasions as these. Hopefully, she thought, it hadn’t been too late. This occasion was already stressful enough without any mischief. The King cleared his throat generously and spoke in a plummy voice. “Ahem. Hem. Good of you all to be here on such short notice, my compliments to your commanding officers. Unfortunately, my daughter’s previous personal guard was quite suddenly lost - a fine young warrior such as yourselves - and the position is quite essential to fill. We shan’t take too much of your time.” He turned to his daughter. “Any one you like, Myra, my dear.”

The Princess began to pace between the rows, hands clasped behind her back, a carefully-chosen mock scowl with one raised eyebrow on her face. The heavy silence was broken only by the sound of the King fumbling through his robes for a rolled cigarette and the hiss of a match being struck. The hair on the back of Releine’s neck prickled as Almyra passed behind her, the clack of her heels stopping briefly as she said to the men behind her, “Hmm. No, not you. Or you. You . . . Maybe. Oh, this one won’t do at all.”

Almyra made her way back to Releine’s row and she mentally recoiled, expecting any second to hear the Princess arbitrarily dismiss her too. It wasn’t that she even particularly wanted this job. Her plan had always been to support her mother and younger siblings either through her military wage, or from the payout that her death in service would afford them. Grant had been right that her family situation was dire and that the higher pay afforded to the relatively peaceful life of a royal guard would be an enormous boon to them. It just didn’t feel particularly right to Releine - she felt that she belonged on the battlefield, where her life would at least be of use to someone. Still, to her frustration, she wasn’t quite ready to feel the sting of rejection from her royal highness. Fortunately, the Princess passed right on by and stopped at the mercenary to her left who had struggled with her salute earlier.

Staring up at the statuesque woman with her hands on her hips and feet set apart, Almyra cocked her head, inspecting her face-paint, the polished battle-nicked spear, and the somewhat battered leather armour. A beat of time went by, before the Princess smartly rose a foot and brought her heel down on a sandal-clad foot, hard. The mercenary yelped what was quite clearly the first vowel of a curse, before stemming it down to a pained growl. She flashed a thunderous glance of rage down at the Princess with gritted teeth. Almyra herself was squealing with laughter, which terminated in a short snort. Wiping a tear from her eye, and still speaking through giggles, she said to the mercenary, “Oh no, I’m afraid that’s too much. Papa wouldn’t approve of that.” The King’s cigarette shifted from one side of his mouth to the other as he shook his head gently. Releine wished that she’d told Grant more firmly that she didn’t want to be here.

The merc’s shoulders sagged. Almyra continued down the rows for her second lap, this time occasionally stopping in front of someone and pulling some similar prank. The Princess had no concept of personal space and absolutely no boundaries. Releine could feel the mood of her fellow soldiers sour as the Princess was displeased with either the overreaction, or lack of reaction from each one. Faces were pulled, cheeks were pinched, armour plates were unclasped. One waifish young man from another company was beckoned to put his ear down towards her. Whatever she whispered had the boy gasping for air between stitches of laughter. The King rolled his eyes.

It was on the Princess’s fourth lap of eliminations that she finally stopped in front of Releine. Almyra reached a finger up, under her chin. “Well, look at you.” Almyra murmured softly, guiding her face to turn this way and that. “Where did such a handsome face get a scar like that?” Soft fingers traced down the reddish-white line that ran from the corner of her eye to her jaw. Releine maintained her nervous silence, though her heart jumped into her throat. Her eyes turned down towards the other girl’s and she reluctantly realised that she badly wanted the Princess to pick her.

In front of her, Almyra’s attitude, playful and somewhat mean, had melted away. She had asked with genuine curiosity; the warmth of Almyra’s hand on her cheek, a glint behind her eyes, the way her lips had pursed out of their menacing little grin - Releine understood what she’d been trying to achieve. Nobody beyond her father and select individuals had ever spoken to her, and nobody ever could without feeling the force of the King’s wrath. She pictured the King’s steely eyes and shaking head as Almyra had sparked too much of a reaction out of each one. She needed to speak without speaking, let her know there was someone else in here who she could connect to. Seized by an urge to reach out to the girl, Releine waited. The moment seemed to last forever as Almyra’s hand left her cheek and the King took a long, lingering drag on his cigarette. As the Princess looked set to turn away, he slowly let a column of smoke spiral into the crisp morning air, and Releine rapidly blinked twice.

The flutter of her eyelashes turned the Princess’s head back towards her, eyebrows raised. She staggered back, off-balance on her heels, and set herself in front of Releine once again.

“Papa! I’ve chosen. I want this one.”

The King casually put out his cigarette and tossed the smouldering butt to the floor. He sauntered through the ranks towards his daughter, and put his hand upon her shoulder, looking Releine up and down. “Hmm. Decent enough choice. Good muscle on her. Name, soldier?” Releine’s mouth parted slightly before slamming closed again as she remembered the rule. Not even when spoken to. Not even by the King. The stark moment was followed by the King muttering, “Very good, very good. Well done.” He turned to his daughter. “Alright. Would you like to do the honours, my darling?”

Almyra shook her head, her cheeks flushing even pinker with embarrassment. “Oh, no. I’m still not quite - no, not yet.”

“No matter.” The King reassured her “We’re working on it, aren’t we my girl? You’ll get there. Step forward, soldier.”

Releine stepped forward and witnessed Tectomancy for the first time - the divine, royal magic that could reshape the world, held secret by the royal family for a millennium.

The King’s hand drifted to her company insignia where it was pinned to the left strap of her leather breastplate. Taking it between his thumb and forefinger, he gently stroked the metal, tracing its engravings and shape. An ethereal blue-and-white glow spread across its surface, accompanied by a low melodic hum, like wind whistling through a tunnel. The metal began to bend and deform, folding over itself, churning, until it settled into a new shape. Fresh engravings scored themselves into the surface as she found herself wearing the badge of a captain of the royal guard.

The King straightened up. “Take the day. Go and see your family or friends, and bid farewell to your company. It may be a while before you next see them. Arrangements will be made for you - present the badge at the palace gates at seven sharp tomorrow morning. Until then, Captain.”

The King ambled back towards the courtyard’s exit. Almyra regarded Releine’s face one moment more before she too turned away and caught up to her father, the cheeky grin having returned to her face. Soldiers and mercenaries filed out, casting dark glances her way and grumbling to one another in low tones. As the final one wandered past, Releine’s frozen, flabbergasted form finally jolted into motion and she marched stiffly out of the courtyard and away from her new home.

#Writeblr #WIP intro #The Tectomancy Saga #Made with Crown and Claw #MWC&C

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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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Flash Fiction Friday: On the Edge

Silvia gripped Theo’s proffered hand tightly, aware that her claws were digging into her friend’s palm. Theo flinched, but it was her habit to put a brave face on everything, and she was grinning again a moment later. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

The deserted town sloped away before them, suspended over the emptiness. Where the town ended, so did the world. At the bottom of the main street, past buildings which leaned towards oblivion, over fissures and rifts, lay the edge. Below the sharp cliff was a yawning drop, and then nothing but eddies of blue mist fluttering over the endless void.

Theodora Vismoore appeared unbothered. She skipped over piles of rubble as though they were only bumps; over cracks as though one misplaced foot wouldn’t send her tumbling to her death. She was even humming as she went. The sunny dress she wore - which she termed as ‘completely horrible’ - was pulled through her legs and tied around her waist, a precaution that Silvia wished she had taken with her own. One hand clutched Silvia’s paw, helping her stay steady, the other pointed her father’s - Lord Vismoore’s - sabre in front of her, though its point wobbled. Her father was a bulky, heavy man, with a sword to match, and Theo was still only eleven.

“Won’t Lord Vismoore notice you took that?” Silvia whined. “I don’t like this, Theo.”

Theo snorted. “That man wouldn’t notice if I stole his trousers. He’s completely out of it these days. Come on. It’s this way.”

That morning Theo had begged her mother incessantly to let them take the carriage out for the day. Silvia felt certain that Lady Vismoore had only agreed to get her nagging daughter out from under her feet. She had nodded over to where Silvia waited by the table, clutching an empty tray to the front of her servants’ dress and said; “Though you should probably bring a leash if you’re taking your dog with you.” She then burst into crowing, staccato laughter.

Lady Vismoore was not a cruel woman by habit. Her servants were well-treated. The people who resided in her demesne lived heartily. Nevertheless, when Silvia was found, a sodden, mangy ball of fur in the woods below Castle Vismoore, Theo had to beg incessantly for days on end until her mother relented and allowed Silvia to be taken in.

Silvia scratched at her neck. She was still mangy. Her cascade of blonde curls had grown back, but the raw splits in her flesh were not healing. She was falling apart, piece by piece. “Who lives here? Is there a doctor or something?”

“Nobody.” Theo stopped, perched on a treacherous fallen wagon, tucking locks of her wavy silver hair behind her ears and peering around at the sprawl of streets. “This place has been abandoned for years, ever since the last big collapse. So-” She dropped her voice low and grinned, waggling her eyebrows. “-I suppose I should say, nobody living.”

“A ghost is going to help me, then?” Silvia rolled her eyes. “Come off it.”

“Or a spirit, or- I’m not sure what she is. Let’s just say she’s a witch.” Theo spotted her target and leapt from her perch with nonchalance that made Silvia’s stomach drop. “It’s this way.”

They made their way through the side-alleys to a crumbling shrine - more ancient than the buildings around it by far, its weathered limestone facings cloaked thickly with dirt. The carvings and engravings were smoothed down to rounded, indistinct clumps. The entire place reeked, a sour and musty stench trickling thickly from every crack. The stone door was inlaid with tarnished silver. Theo hammered the pommel of her sword upon it. “Hullo? You there, Ma’am?”

At first there was nothing but the groaning of the wind and the distant calls of birds, left behind outside the town. Silvia tugged at Theo’s sleeve. “Theo, let’s go h-”

“Aaaah-aaaaaaaa.” The moan shook Silvia’s bones, vibrating sharply from behind the door and she jumped away. Theo reached out to steady her. “Thou hast returned, fool child. Thou shalt not thieve it from me.”

“I know, I know, I shan’t,” Theo grumbled. She braced herself with one foot on the ground, and the other up on the slanted door frame. “Do you remember our deal, lady?”

“I am to heal your sweetheart in exchange for my freedom,” the voice sighed, “I recall.”

Silvia frowned. “Sweetheart?”

“I- I don’t know where she got that from.” Theo’s pale cheeks were turning a bright shade of pink.

The voice grew louder, drew closer, now bubbling through the cracks around the door. “Is this to be the day? Thou hast brought the girl?”

“Yes.” Theo hefted the sword. “And something to try and pry these doors open. Ready?”

Silvia shrieked.

Miasma spewed from the door. Black smog billowed and pooled, reeking and acrid, stinging where it came into contact with her skin. This was the byproduct of magic that had robbed her of her family and even now ate away at her flesh. She remembered falling into the swamp, gasping, suffocating, the mist probing hungrily into her and scorching her lungs.

She ran. Silvia’s claws scrabbled at the flagstones of the street, desperately trying to haul herself away from the danger, breathless. Her foot caught in a crack in the stones and she fell, sliding backwards, past the shrine, careening towards the edge.

Theo’s arms clamped around her, the other girl’s body weight pulling them into a roll. They slid, and bounced, and eventually crashed, slamming into a wonky lamppost that creaked under their weight. They lay there panting, tangled in each other, staring at the distant blue pooling below.

“Okay. We don’t have to do this,” Theo murmured into Silvia’s pointed ear. “I’ll drop it. Let’s go home.”

Blood matted the fur at Silvia’s elbow. A new, stinging wound that would not heal. “Perhaps… another day.”

“Another day.”

@flashfictionfridayofficial :3

Taglist (DM to be added or removed): @indy-gray @sam-glade

#First time doing this!! Exciting stuff. I had fun #The Tectomancy Saga #This is a little prequel piece for Bound By Stone And Blood #I have been wanting to write a bit about Theo and Silvia's childhood for a while so this was great #And thanks to sam-glade for proofreading :3 #BBS&B #Flash Fiction Friday #Writeblr #Bound by stone and blood

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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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The Tectomancy Saga: Her New Captain

Hey folks! I've been playing about with writing some short pieces in the Tectomancy Saga universe, so I'm going to start sharing them! This time I decided to write a chapter that's from Releine's perspective in the actual book from Almyra's perspective instead.

Taglist (DM to be added or removed): @indy-gray @sam-glade

Click through the read more for some gay shit:

Princess Almyra Tectus woke up uncharacteristically early. This was one of the rare occasions in her life when she’d asked her father to send an automaton with a wake-up call. Today was going to be a terribly exciting day.

The red-eyed creature, with dangling, feathered arms and a sloping helmet that wrapped its face, chirped at her bedside until she clambered out from her nest of pillows and blankets to yawn in its face and slap it firmly on the chest. “I’m up. I’m awake.”

It stomped dutifully away while she set about her business, slumping down in front of her dresser and trying not to doze off again. By her estimation, her new guard captain would be having breakfast with father around now - it was a little trick of his, to get them comfortable. Most arrived here expecting every waking moment to be formal and stately, but that was not quite achievable in a house populated by two royals, five servants, and a host of automatons. Father was probably greeting her at breakfast in his dressing gown and pyjamas. Almyra giggled through another yawn thinking about the look she must have on her face.

It was a lovely face. The scar was what caught her eye at first, when father sent her to inspect her potential new guards the previous day. It ran from the bridge of her arched nose, over tan, freckled cheeks, to the edge of a razor-sharp jaw. Then it was her eyes - icy-cold and narrow, set below a dark brow. Then her tall, artfully-muscled frame, and her firm-

Almyra blushed in the mirror. She made herself pick up the hairbrush. Her hair could be messy perhaps, but she couldn’t have tangles, that wouldn’t do - yet. Then she would dab away some of her blemishes with a little makeup - but not all of them. There was allure in imperfection. She thumbed the dent that mother had moulded into the bridge of her nose and smiled. This morning was a first impression, a real first impression. Given they would never be more than five feet apart outside the palace, Releine would see her, warts and all, soon enough.

She brushed out her waves of red, then set to work messing them up again. “Releine, Re-leine…” It was an unbalanced, awkward name. Her previous guard had been Beatrice - an easy name to endear. Betty, Bea. This one… “I shall try calling her Leine,” Almyra mused. “We’ll see if that sticks.”

Almyra grabbed a brush. Beatrice had disappeared two weeks prior. The poor dear had never broken father’s golden rule - she had never spoken a single word to Almyra. In fact, she had barely even gestured. Her slip-up was when she caught Almyra crying in the rose garden, and had reached out for a hand to comfort her. Almyra had grabbed it and stolen an embrace - one that lasted too long. Father, unfortunately, had returned to his office earlier than Almyra had anticipated and seen the whole thing. Beatrice was gone by the next morning, despite Almyra’s protests, and father had Anslo arrange a new selection as soon as possible. “I suppose I overdid that one,” Almyra muttered. “A change of setting next time, I think.”

This Releine girl might come around a little easier. She hadn’t responded to anything Almyra said or did in the solemn military ranks at the selection. However, as soon as father was distracted, she had signalled with a rapid double-blink. Clever, masculine, willing to take risks and bend rules, and smoking hot. Exactly Almyra’s type of girl.

That was probably enough. Almyra batted powder from the brush and tucked it away lest Captain Sholt were the particularly observant type. She took one last glance in the mirror and waddled, satisfied, back to bed.

Everything was ready. She was wearing her most clingy nightgown, and her favourite titillating romance novels were on display in the sitting room downstairs. Anything with two girls on the cover, really. She took one last run at her hair, left the brush on the bedside table, and wriggled back into her cocoon. She was already feeling the soft, woolly curtains of sleep closing over her again. How long will the Captain take to get here? Is Anslo going to give her the tour first? A nap surely couldn’t hurt.

❖

Almyra jerked awake again to a thunderous knocking that made her gasp and flail. How long had she been asleep?! A glance at her bedside clock revealed that it was past noon already. Damn! Her hair would be messed up again.

The knock came once more. She called out in a sleepy slur; “Who is it?”

It ought to be Releine, and perhaps this would catch her out - maybe this could be fun right from the get-go.

Another knock.

Almyra sighed, and said; “Oh, you. Come in.”

She closed her eyes and listened to the ponderous tramp of heavy boots as they approached her chamber. Despite everything, she was still so tired. When the footsteps stopped at the arched entrance of her bedroom, she peeked out and met Releine Sholt’s narrow, icy eyes. Those eyes widened considerably when Almyra wormed her way out of the blankets. A dash of pink appeared in the Captain’s freckled cheeks - the nightgown was especially low-cut. Releine turned her head and stepped back into the entryway.

Oh, a true gentleman? That wasn’t what Almyra had been expecting at all. Most of the mercenary guild heroes and stuffy military types who ended up padding around after her for a few months bore no resemblance to the love interests of her novels. They weren’t shy. They weren’t lecherous either, typically, they were just there to do a job - it was half the fun of cajoling them. Almyra caught a gooey sensation somewhere in her chest and said, through a yawn; “Don’t be daft. Given the rules, you’re bound to see me in more embarrassing states than this sooner or later. Better get used to it.” She stretched. “That said, robe please.” She gestured to where it hung by the door.

Releine fetched it with barely a pause. That was also new. Father specifically told guards that they were not servants and most of them took that to heart. Almyra wished she hadn’t asked as she shrugged the robe over her shoulders and sniffed awkwardly. “So what ought I call you? I can’t go around calling you ‘Captain’, can I?” She picked up

Releine looked at the ceiling, saying nothing, and then shrugged. Powerful shoulders on a lanky frame, rippling below a blue military tunic. Aside from that she wore well-fitted cloth trousers, the heavy boots, and a sabre at her side. Rings glinted in her ears, made visible by the shaved sides of her head. She made straight-laced military dress look roguish.

“Hmph, didn’t think that one would catch you. I took the liberty of finding out your name yesterday anyway. Releine, Re-leine . . . “ She feigned her first attempt at figuring out a pet name. “It’s not an easy one. May I call you Leine?”

Leine was not good at hiding her facial expressions. She looked at Almyra as though she’d just kicked her cat, but she nodded curtly.

Almyra suppressed a giggle. The little storm-cloud gathering over her new guard’s head, now that was fun. Irritation, a sorry attempt at good manners, and completely unsubtle blushes. “Come then, Leine. Let’s go down to the kitchen for some coffee. Then you and I must talk.” There was warmth in her own cheeks as she slid on her slippers and skipped towards the door. Releine took her queue perfectly and followed behind her at a perfectly even distance. “Well, not talk but - you know what I mean.”

Not talk yet. Almyra would find a way.

#Writing #Writing Fantasy #Writeblr #Writing snipper #Writers of tumblr #Writers on tukblr #The Tectomancy Saga #made with crown and claw #MWC&C #oc: Releine #oc: Almyra

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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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Romantic Snippet Tag/OC Kiss Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @sam-glade! Y'know, for all you've accused me of being a romance writer, there honestly aren't that many big kisses in The Tectomancy Saga so far . . . at least ones that aren't spoilery 😉I'll do my best!

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

Gently tagging: @sarahlizziewrites @worldsfromhoney @emelkae @cthulhuloops

It's a blown kiss, but here's one from Made with Crown and Claw -

Upon sealing the creeping frost away again, Releine nearly jumped out of her skin - if only she could - at a sudden touch to her flank. Almyra had crept up upon her, smiling an innocent smile. Now that her treachery was noticed, she burst into a giggle and leapt towards her, rapidly poking her in the ribs. Or thereabouts. “Ha! You like me! You really like me! The big bad guard captain has a soft heart!” Releine rolled her eyes and groaned. “I never said that to either of them.” The thought was sour to her. “But you don’t deny it!” “Oh, do shut up.” Once she had gone to bed - having blown a kiss to Releine from the top of the stairs, which Releine waggled her head sarcastically at - Releine morosely and bitterly considered that either of them liking the other had been the root of their problems so far. It could only get worse from here.

#Writeblr #Writeblr Tag Games #Writing #Writing Fantasy #Creative Writing #The Tectomancy Saga #MWC&C #made with crown and claw #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr

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tisiphonewolfe · 7 months

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15 Lines

Thanks for the tag, @captain-kraken! I hear you're a Tenacity fan, so I shall do Tenacity for this one~!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

“Take out your crossbows and load them. Aim your weapon at the head of the soldier to your left. You will fire on the count of three. One . . . Two . . . Thr-”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“I had considered that I might like to be your friend.”

“I believe I may have a concussion.”

It turned out that Tenacity could be quite a talkative travel companion...she was bursting with trivia to share on most everything they came across. She delivered this sparkling well of information, however, in the tone that one might read an address book...

“I will not hesitate to use the tongue, Releine.”

“Yes, you found me. Congratulations.”

“It will not go tits-up.”

“You know what-” Tenacity swallowed the contents of her near-full glass in two gulps “-my drink is empty. I will go and get another.”

“I have already failed you once tonight. Let me do this so that I do not fail you again.”

“I am grateful that you put your trust in me today. I know that I am not always the easiest person to put one’s faith in. It means more to me than you can know that you did.”

“Crush me then, I care not.”

“I will admit that my previous romantic encounters did not involve so much… jogging.”

I guess #5 is kind of cheating, but... I really do like that line about her.

Gently tagging: @ashirisu @doublegoblin @elshells

#writeblr #the tectomancy saga #writing #writing fantasy #writeblr tag games #writers of tumblr

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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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OC Writers block

Thanks for tagging me @doublegoblin! Sorry it took a while to get to, things have been wild over the last few weeks for me.

Rules: Answer how would your OC would motivate/cheer you up when you have writer's block.

Tectomancy Saga Characters:

Releine: "A good bit of exercise always clears the mind for me. Come on, let's go get some gym time in. Don't make me drag you there."

Almyra: "Have you tried doing some reading? Words go in, words come out, right? Let me tell you about this book I'm reading at the moment-"

Jessa: "Maybe the writing isn't the problem - maybe something else is going on? Do you want to hug it out and talk about your feelings? Let me help you. I need to help you."

Tenacity: "Give the manuscript to me." (She reads silently for a minute) "This is why you are blocked. You see, in this line here, you-"

Ellimane: "Is this really the most important thing going on in your life right now? It is? Well, it's not the most important thing in my life. I have stuff to do."

Naenia, Through Murder Characters:

Naenia: "When I am stuck with my work, I remember that it is a solemn and essential duty. Rededicate yourself to your task. Put your entire soul into it - it is the base of your whole being."

Carina: "Um, yes, we could do that. Or we could go to the pub and try to forget about it for a minute. You'll probably feel better after a break."

Gentle Tags for: @breath-of-eternity @darthnell @violets-in-her-arms-writes @bethany-sensei

#The Tectomancy Saga #Naenia Through Murder #Writeblr tag games #writeblr #writing #writing fantasy #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr

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tisiphonewolfe · 1 year

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Author Ask Tag Game

My thanks to @doublegoblin for tagging me here!

This is going to mostly be in the context of The Tectomancy Saga -

(1) What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

I don't know if I can say there's a singular main lesson or message that the story is meant to provide. Different characters will learn different things. I want Releine to realise that she has inherent value and isn't only defined by what she can do for other people; I want Almyra to learn that even smaller goals are victories; I want Jessa to learn that you don't have to be who other people expect you to be; I want Tenacity to learn that your goals, however noble, can't come before the people you care about. And I just want Ellimane to get her shit together quite frankly. I don't know that I chose them so much as that that's where those character arcs seem to want to go. I guess they're things I've had to learn to some extent in life.

(2) What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

I honestly find that very hard to pin down! I guess I owe a lot to certain authors in terms of the kind of things I find fun to think about and write ideas from. I guess they would be: Terry Pratchett, Paul Stewart & Chris Riddell, Garth Nix, and Tamsyn Muir. Worlds full of weird creatures, worlds that are weird shapes, worlds that have an edge you can fall off, worlds that are full of cryptic magic. I think I have at least that group of people to thank for getting my brain going. And of course, I have to pay mention to fairy tales and their long history of putting Princesses in towers and guarding them with dragons - that was the whole thing that made me think "and what if the Princess loves the dragon?" in the first place.

(3) What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

Mostly I think I just want others to love them as much as I do. That's a lot of the fun of reading to me, at least - get attached to someone funky and fucked-up and see where they go. Adore them for their wits and weird quirks, and the things they turn to in themselves when the situation is dire. I want readers to worry for them, post their favourite quotes on tumblr, think about them when they're cooking and cleaning! That's what I do when I love a character.

(4) How many chapters is your story going to have?

Well, MWC&C ended with 47 chapters, and BBS&B is currently on chapter 40 and will probably run longer than its predecessor. There are two more books I can think of in the main sequence, so I'd guess roughly 200+. There are a couple of prequel novels I could write, and I had an idea for a sequel trilogy, but I guess whether I invest in that depends on if I can get anyone reading the original books!

(5) Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

It's original content all the way. I'm hoping to get a chance to publish it (agents, please call me), but if all else fails, I guess I'll try and self-publish somehow. Marketing is not one of my great skills though, so it'll be a challenge.

(6) When and why did you start writing?

November 2021. I've talked about this before, but I lost my love of reading for a number of years, mostly because I was depressed and also trying to read the wrong kind of books for me just because I thought that they were the kinds of things that people should read. In 2021 I finally had to know who the spooky bone lesbians on my dash were and read Gideon the Ninth. Then that year I inhaled a dozen more sapphic books and remembered that as well as liking reading, I loved to write once upon a time (har har) and thought I'd give that another go.

(7) Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

What are words of engagement?! Are we courting, or is it pistols at dawn?! I guess I would say - assuming we're talking about interacting with other writers - don't be afraid to just come and chat with me about stuff. If I say something that reminds you of one of your characters, or something about your world, then please tell me, because I'll probably like that too. We can show stuff off to one another and play with our characters like dolls. If you mean words of encouragement, I'd say this: Even a little bit of writing is still writing. Don't beat yourself up if you don't have the energy to bash out thousands of words in a sitting. Do a few hundred; a paragraph; a sentence. You'll get there eventually. And don't bum yourself out waiting for inspiration - sometimes the best inspiration is just typing a horrifically bad sentence. Doing that makes me want to write the next one better.

I follow too many writers to list, but I'm going to tag some for this game (very, very gently), so - @sam-glade @indy-gray @aalinaaaaaa @comicgoblinart

#writeblr #writeblr tag games #The Tectomancy Saga #made with crown and claw #mwc&c #bbs&b #bound by stone and blood

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