Discussion in 'Collaboration' started by badgerjelly, Jun 25, 2019.
One week left me! So hurry up ME!
2500 words done now ... but still trying to figure out what to do with the other 2500. I’ve already introduced three more characters so just trying to choose between a few different ideas.
I’ve pretty much finished it. Will post a day late though as I need to at least give it a proper once over in the morning and patch it up as best I can.
Sorry for slight delay
Wouldn't worry about a day over, we all got our first pieces finished in nice time so I think you can allow yourself that! Once it's up I'll try and get my piece done as quick as possible, a lot of shifts over the next few days so might be a week/week and a half till it's up. But looking forward to seeing what's happened so far!
2 weeks is the target so anything less than that is good. Found it quite tough juggling the various threads.
Love to see what you've got
Here it is. I’ve gone over the word limit by 6 words ... I’ll allow myself that much wiggle room though considering
Dear and honorable Arbitrator. It is with deep regret that I inform you of certain misdemeanors on my part. This being my first hunt on Waysome I am hoping, with naive prostration to your good self, that such a happenstance will not sully my good name and hamper further hunts in the name of The Great Humwitter and the legislation decreed by my fair home world, Zshell’l.
It is with the deepest regrets that I inform you that nearly every single member fo my team has been all but slaughtered, the other remaining colleague is unaccounted for, perhaps deceased too. My own hand dispatched one of these. Also, I interrupted the reconstitution of one member of my team whose body I had smashed after a most startling betrayal - said member is Blessi ‘The Baker’ of Waysome. That was something of a misunderstanding on my part regarding the correct procedure for physiological reconstitution and I was going to inform your good self upon assessment of The Hunt in the Scoring Tribunal - the whole situation was due to the most irregular behavior of said member’s emotional constitution; I believe the correct term would be ‘maudlin’ to describe her attitude. Her true identity was unknown by myself, and I assume, the others members of the team.
My recollection is of a diaphanous disposition, as I’m little rested, so I have attached what I can of the recordings from the starway skiffs, in which my team members arrived, and from my own personal logging apparatus. Hopefully with my interjections I can provide a fuller substance to the events ...
A trio of skyway skiffs scudded across the sky and slowed to descend into the scorched opening. Duke Laysmither II, dignitary of Zshell’l, High Guardian of Relsh’l, struggled to his feet with pain-filled grunts of exertion. His leg was still throbbing, but the reconstituting balms he’d applied were doing a good enough job of patching the broken limb up; still he held himself pinioned between two singed westle trees; not yet able to stand without support. The three craft’s engines hummed in pulses as their rotary jets wound down. Branches cracked as the furtherest one lay itself down without care or dignity; its stout shape remorselessly crushing everything under its copious belly. The other two craft were far more streamlined. The graceful one to Laysmither’s left was coloured with ripples of dark greens and flecks of rusty reds, a pretense of camouflage but effectually nothing more than an expression of the lacking visual aesthetics of the pilot. The craft to the right similar in shape and form to the one on the opposite wing; sleek and arrow-headed - unlike the burly hodgepodge resting in, now broken, timbers - yet it possessed less elegance of design; less care and attention. In fact upon closer scrutiny the whole craft looked like a poor example of its opposite’s design. Its carapace untidily arranged in a rash of deadly and garish hues irritating the eye. The grinding drill of its jets dimmed to a clanking, shuddering halt that literally made the whole craft jolt to one side as if with fright.
Tulkan wriggled out of the shimmering sleek craft in a cloud of dense gases, head enclosed beneath an array of petal-like visors that bloomed open as he slithered upon the charred ground - his face fangs were rippling with indignation. Opposite two short beings bounced from their garish craft like two rubber balls attached by some invisible tether, the goggling eyes of Vesa-an and Veso-un bounced around in equally chaotic discord. The two screeched at Laysmither as they bounded erratically toward the scorched tree-line, “Da-da-damn you! W-w-we had an Acullersome beast within our clutches!” Their voices eerily echoing each other whilst in unison at the same time; the high-pitched wail of Vesa-an and the rich, bass timbre of Veso-un, “Y-y-you better not be playing at story making rookie!”
Tulkan uncoiled to his full height as he came to address Laysmither. The creatures eyeless face exuding aromas to communicate, “Settle down! Albeit that our new recruit here be a rookie he comes with many arted skills that have been absented from our team for many season. Having barely survive the last few seasons this ... obscure circumstance may well be our chancer to journey out of this perpetual Hunt! My peoples have no had fortune and many a Hunter has been ... Judged.”
“I-I-If true! The hapless fool doesn’t even understand what he reported, look at it! P-p-primitive!”, the duo trilled in agitation; their eyes bouncing around their faces like globules of oil on a drum. Laysmither stood stiff and straight, with some difficulty, before them. His chin pointing at them as if he was listening to children squabble. “If I may interject my good team members. I know the extent of the circumstances and the seriousness of the predicament we’re faced with. I may not be as well acclimatised to the Hunt as your good selves, but I have spent the entirety of my past six progressions as an avid student of the Hunt - the rudimentary technologies on my home world may not compare to yours but isn’t that precisely why I was chosen. My species understands the honour bestowed upon it, and I, being the lucky choice of my peoples, move in these common daily circles with your good selves in the fullness of understanding toward the Waysome planet and the occurrences recorded in the annuals of past Hunts. In short, I know what I reported was perhaps coincidental, yet, as you obviously agree (?)” - he paused briefly expecting a plume of gas from Tulkan - “given your haste to attend to my plea; you AND our less tardy, but greatly experienced, leader yonder,” - he said, nodding toward the stout craft nested in the seclusion of the brush - “all understand what a huge boon or danger we are here faced with.” With that Laysmither lowered himself to the earth and pulled a pair of tweezers and hand-mirror from his hunting jacket, setting to the task of cleaning up his bushy mustache with due care and attention instantly shifting his attitude from the immediate crisis.
“Wh-wh-what of our enemies? You hailed them too! This is unprecedented, in all my seasons of Hunting I’ve never heard of such a thing” - Tulkan released a gaseous interjection “Be honest, we know the potential because our knowledge of previous historical incidents on Hunts. The infamous Rattan incident and the glory’s gained by the Fre-Gefani team are’s but two recorded in the annuals of The Hunt. The question is how we proceed with a truce if any other team believes the distress call - the most desperate and unruly I expect. Also, if no one responds we have to consider calling upon the Arbitrator to tackle this ... this possible cataclysm. If there is an actual Realm Lurker on the loose we’ll need help. It would be suicide to take it on alone, and sharing of the prestige of such a catch would release us from the cycle of The Hunt for generations if not forever! Greed has its place. This is not the place for greed. If it came through the Waysome Shift only the stars know what could be following it ... we need allow time for support to arrive and if nobody harries forth within the next cycle we’ll contact the Arbitrator. Maybe you should have killed it when it was down Laysmither, but we are here now.” The vapors of Tulkan’s voice spiraled back into exposed spiracles on his flanks. His concertinaed suit folded gracefully around his tapering form as he wound himself into a comfortable coil beside Laysmither.
Vesa-an and Veso-un settled down a little and began to slowly rotate themselves to a stop. “At least you dealt with Blessi ‘The Baker’ well enough,” the duo conceded in harmony. “T’was a gamble to recruit a Waysome native and expect them to hold the line. What happened exactly?”
Laysmither grunted mildly as he massaged his leg, checking the blood flow. “Gamble is an understatement. It turns out Blessi is not Blessi. Her real name is Gerli and she used to live just beyond this here Dragglewood Forest. I noticed something was wrong not long before we entered the atmosphere as she seemed unable to hide her agitation - poorly trying to conceal her disposition by blaming some illness. Not long after we landed and begun the preliminaries of the hunt she killed our Tendaron team member by use of barbed traps procured and laid out for our late team member, and tore out his implant; I couldn’t do anything to save him. It seems her plan was to return home and escape with her daughter by use of the implant ... but I managed to hinder her progress, snapping her spine and blasting her face with smut-dust to cloud her vision. I bound her firmly and, sadly, being unfamiliar with the reconstitution process accidentally marred her implant interrupting her recovery. Most of her flesh turned necrotic as a result. I would have reversed the damage, but she managed to sliver out of her binds due to the decomposition of fleshy tissues and skulked away during the cleansing ritual for our viciously murdered comrade - which reminds me, his carcass hasn’t been fully consumed yet so I’d be much obliged if you help me; to be honest those Tendarons are a little bitter on my good palate and I hear Vepsers, like your good self Tulkan, have an aesthetic disposition toward such poignant tastes? Anyway, that was two days ago. I managed to track her for some distance but she was wily enough to cover her trail and my Lark was probably thrown off her scent by the cloak of her decay.”
The Vepser visibly shuddered with anticipation, his suit letting out an accidental hiss as the gaseous miasma within swirled in delight. “It is your duty’s, but it has been some time gone by since I last eat Tendarian fleshes. This game has tired me for long now, but at least we Hunters have respite in the delightful viands we acquire - they say it is nothing in comparison to the release from the bonds of the Hunt though. Of course, before I was a Hunter I believed the delights of the Hunt were exaggerations ... now I am a old hand and wish to shed this privilege because it feels to me now as a prison of normality. The Hunt still has its little satisfactions for me though, and I remain thankful to my people, but I crave more than this! Much more ...” with that Tulkan sucked up its vapors and slivered off in the direction of Laysmither’s camp to feed.
“What’s keeping our team leader? How long does it take to scan for Realm Lurkers?”.
To interject here, and before I play out the rest of the recordings, it would perhaps be helpful to explain my thoughts and feelings at this time. I had long suspected that Tulkan was out for some other purpose as during the arduous selection process which procured my position of the team he had been quite distant at times - my extensive studies of Vepserian physiology and the nuances of their olfactory communication revealed to me something unnerving about his psychological make-up. In more humanoid terms we’d call this ‘psychosis’ or ‘insanity’; his instability was unwillingly seeping through Tulkan’s best efforts at concealment. As the Hunt came closer the facade slipped further and further yet other team members took this as anticipation of The Hunting Season. In hindsight I should have mentioned this to my fellow team members - chances are they’d all still be alive.
There is also the case of my team leader to address. As with most team leaders a certain air of mystery surrounds his history. Some have said - I mean no disrespect to The Order of Arbitrators - that he was once an Arbitrator himself and that due to scandalous circumstances was spared execution and reduced in standing; rumoured to be a fate worse than perpetual death amongst us Hunters. Whatever the truth of his history an unfortunate grudge he bore complicated our predicament once the plea for assistance as answered.
Tulkan returned rejuvenated from eating their fallen comrade as the lugubrious figure of the leader, Ca-lahw Oosh , stomped into clearly, nostrils flaring and stripped to the waist. His muscular frame daubed in goose fat, gleamed as the morning light filtered through the sooty dew. He looked like a newborn babe slick with the fluids of birth - a monolithic babe of a titan or some barbarous god. Laysmither’s leg was mostly reconstituted after a good nights rest, only a subtle limp betrayed the break he’d received. He walked to face Ca-lahw Oosh with his hand extended, palm up, in welcoming salute toward his team leader. Ca-lahw Oosh pounded it with his fist, with what appeared to be a rare glimpse of a grin breaking from his gnarly features; something more like a sneer to any ordinary man, but Ca-lahw Oosh was not an ordinary man.
“So,” his squeaking, raspy tone, both chilling and sharp - like the piercing squeal of air escaping from a balloon that was drowning beneath the thunderous cracks of a maelstrom - “looks like we have one!” Then it happened - something extraordinary - something never before seen by any member of their entire crew.
The others bore witness as a face that they’d only ever seen emptied of pleasure contorted itself into this unfamiliar form - even the bulky man’s facial muscles seemed to twitch in surprised discomfort by what their master was forcing them to perform. Laysmither was new to the team, but even he flinched within, feeling some long neglected emotion, once known as ‘fear’, bubbling within his belly.
The four of them lined up in front of Oosh. Tulkan was emitting a faint aroma of anticipation upon hearing confirmation. They were all silent awaiting for instruction; even Vesa-an and Veso-un were deadly still and attentive.
“There is assistance inbound. We can expect some vicious negotiating with whatever enemy team it is, we have little time to prepare so I have decided we pursue the Lurker immediately. Its trace is strong, very strong. If we can at least locate it and corner it before reinforcements arrive we’ll be able to collect the bulk of the reward - our days in The Hunt will be over, our worlds will be released from bondage, and ... let it be known if we survive this we’ll even have The Arbitrators in our pocket! I have extra kit in my craft if needed, get ready NOW!”
During The Hunt tech use was limited, but this was no ‘Hunt’, this was one of those once-in-a-century occurrences that sparked revolutions, destroyed worlds or changed the course of millennia-long feuds. The remains of the team donned ferroplast armour, even Laysmither - the plates clinging like limpets to the skin. Vesa-an and Veso-un brought out their signature weaponry (low tech, but they were specialists; artists some would say) the rippling buzz of their Sacth Wielders dancing in spasmodic fits. They warmed up pulling the threads of energy taut between them so the Warp Spindle could gain deadly momentum as it shuttled back and forth with unnerving jolts of speed between them. Laysmither too was primarily equipped with his ‘low-tech’ stave, but thought it better to compliment his comfortable choice with an energy bow (High spec. Reaver model) acquired from Oosh’s hold. Tulkan had fixed his neural-tap and donned his full-suited sensory array - his voice would now be emitted from a vox transistor and allow his olfactory ‘vision’ to be transmitted to the other team members via auditory channels embedded each of their Hunt implants. The Vepser also held one of the fabled artifacts of his home world, a Prowess Rifle - a sniper-rifle whose missiles could be guided remotely; the projectiles sapping the mental energy of the user with each twist and turn as it magnified in accuracy and sharpness - enough to bypass any known protection. A weapon as dangerous to its target as it was to its user, if treated without considerable care.
Finally Ca-lahw Oosh led them through the smoldering patches of trees where the fires had lashed out; he was armed with a curved Walley-grass Blade, strapped across his back, and a pair of Spagoolie Pistols (aka. ‘Hydra’s Kiss’) which could be used together in no less than thirteen separate combinations to produce bursts of flame, grenade-like detonations, phase-whips and bone-shattering sonic blasts, to name a few of its multiple configurations - potent in the right hands, self-destructive if handled by an amateur.
The team advanced in an tee formation. Tulkan anchored an the rear, his far reaching sensory array scouting ahead in ethereal wisps. Oosh directly ahead, with Vesa-an and Veso-un a couple of hundred paces off to his left, and Laysmither a hundred paces or so off to his right.
“Trace ahead. Same as that of Lark cadaver,” Tulkan’s grating vox-voice conveyed. A faint orange glow sparked to life on each of the team’s visors.
“Laysmither, rotate slowly around the flank. Tulkan, get into the canopies. Vesa and Vesu position and ready yourselves on the opposite flank - flush maneuver will commence in five spans, I’m going in,” Oosh murmured as he stalked through the angled branches and ducked under the gnarled vines that hung like strips of dried flesh from the large boughs of the dragglewood trees; the forest’s namesake flora.
It is here the recordings fall temporarily silent my good Arbitrator. Due to Tulkans vox we were able to exchange readily enough - the boon of the vepser’s olfactory array, it being immune to interference from energy sources.
At this point glares of light struck my good eyes. I was quite startled by hue of the light. Ca-lawh Oosh had spring into action with the intent of flushing the quarry towards Vesa-an and Veso-un in order to ensnare any present thing in their energy bindings, or at least subdue whatever clashed into them enough to slow it and allow for a successful pursuit. What I considered to have happened is that they had sprung their trap and been overwhelmed - the last time I recall such a blinding glare being during a training exercise with the duo; something they called their ‘weave net’ maneuver in which they flung around their Sacth Wielders, threading a field of energy to capture any creature that fell into the warp-furrowed area. Once triggered a bright flash would erupt as the tangled space snapped back into position, stunning, paralysing, killing, or simply slowly, the target.
I was then at the rear of the engagement and so moved in quickly, and with due stealth. Clearly some struggle was underway, but the exchange over the vox array was intermittent; Tulkan was likely trying to target the ensnared thing and unable to offer pristine surveillance - all I could make out was a indistinct bundle of limbs thrashing about and the disfigured form of either Vesa-an or Veso-un, having suffered some mortal blow. The other member of the pair was flailing about wildly with the untethered weapon whipping around their head in a haloed-blur of furious light as the energy streams emitted, snapped taut and then loosen into frayed deadly heads of power. I could barely sense the fragrance of Oosh standing well away from the situation waiting for an opening, and Tulkan was completely hidden in his own olfactory miasma. It was at this point she made herself known to me, a small girl - a native. Her features made me believe it was the daughter of our traitor, this was almost instantaneously confirmed by the tell-tale sign of having recently been infused with an implant; blistered, crystalline welts encircling her neck like a sparkling amethyst necklace. Her breath was laboured and she looked somewhere stuck between catatonia, terror and burning rage. I swiftly rendered her unconscious with my stave and moved with haste toward the turmoil crackling a few dozen paces to my right. The vox-vision spat a vivid image into my head briefly; Tulkan was way out of position and in the fray. In fact he was sinking his face-fangs into some cadaverous monstrosity as another equally hideous half-dead thing flung a tanker-trap at the exposed head of the onrushing Oosh, his Walley-grass blade a dark blur spinning before him to shield from undulating energy bursts peeling away from what appeared to be Vesa-an’s corpse. It was Blessi, the traitorous native that had slunk away from my clutches. The viscous trap was deflected by Oosh like a feline swatting lazily at a moth. I could feel some toxin trying to seep into me, it was worse than any of my initial suspicions, Tulkan had sabotaged the team! I ripped my head gear off and flung myself into a sprint. My good Arbitrator, I had suspicions of Tulkan’s frailty of mind but nothing made me believe he was so far gone as to prey on his own team members. Luck be mine I had studied the ways of vepser physiology and thus knew of some mental tricks to avoid hypnotic supplication. The deranged vepser had clearly ignored the order to hang back and offer sniper fire, having instead thrown itself into an orgy of killing and feeding - the pull of such an exotic bounty of a Lurker must have completely detached any thread of sanity the Prowess rifle had left intact.
The scene was frantic with motion yet eerily quiet, apart from the occasional crack of energy and the rattling buzz of the Sacth Wielder’s power threads finally dissipating. It was then I realised that the thing Tulkan was atop was the Lurker. Just looking at it made me wish I was blind. It blinked from position to position, pulling and twisting the maddened form of Tulkan as it strobed this way and that, turning the rabid vepser’s body inside out and then back in on itself again, and again, and again. It then spun free from the fanged-grip and sprung upon Veso-un dragging him off up into the trees where a cacophony of screams, wails and screeches sounded out, from Veso-un’s weaponry as much as his trilling maw. By this point I had my energy bow readied and trained on Tulkan as his crazed and battered form slithered at me. I took several precise shots, aiming at, and hitting, the spiracles dead centre with each bolt. Tulken was no more, just a withered bag slick with noxious green juices.
The greatest surprise of all was the ability of the half-living ‘Blessi’. Somehow that decomposing form held the attention of Oosh. I managed to catch the last of the battling exchange as Oosh literally tore the decrepit body in two with a point-blank crank-shot from a Spagoolie pistol he’d managed to fire a clean shot right into the chest cleaving her up to her crown and down to her crotch. He then looked over at me, “Harvest the implants and fall back. We cannot corner it alone, injured or not. Get to rally mark beta! Disperse protocol.” I nodded both in agreement and recognition of his leadership. It would’ve been suicide to try and contain the Realm Lurker now. We cut the implants free of the former team members at hand and retreated in different directions so at least one of us would survive if the other was tracked down by the Lurker. I moved off toward where the girl lay unconscious shedding the armour - it was useless stuff to the lone Hunter. All the benefits of symbiotic logistics were gone now most of the team were dead or dying. I cannot honestly say why I didn’t tell Oosh about the girl. Something about her distracted me. As Oosh shadowed off over a hillock toward our pre-allotted rendezvous, and I slung the prone girl over my shoulder and set off a quickly as I could. The canopy above fell silent as the struggling combat ended. It was almost poetic timing as dusk began to usher itself in with a foreboding dull wash of gloom.
After a good number of spans I had put some distance between my good self and the scene, careful to cover my trail, and looked for a spot to hunker down and evade any pursuing doom. I spied a cluster of boulders covered with ivy nestled in a shallow ditch and made my way toward it. Suddenly five figures revealed themselves from behind the rocks as I came within a few paces of it. From here I will proceed with the recording from my personal log.
All but one of them was kitted in ferroplast armour, he limped toward Laysmither, ire and concern mixed upon his face like oil and water, twitching and spluttering. “What have you done to her!?” The other figures cautioned his vigor urging him to hush his tone.
“Nothing at all,” Laysmither calmly answered, careful to keep his eyes on him “she is, I believe, the daughter of one of my teams late members. I happened upon her prior to the furore and knocked her unconscious for her own safety. Lurkers can latch onto sentient creatures and are especially attracted to juveniles - so it is said at least. Not to mention her mother appears to have given her an implant,” he said, showing him the markings encircling her neck, “she wasn’t exactly lucid when I stumbled upon her and, my team being engaged and needing of my assistance, I chose to pacify her.”
One of the other figures stepped forward quickly, “Hand him the girl. Your team? The Lurker? You are Laysmither I gather?” Hissed the voice from behind its visor, “your leader is Oosh?” The last question tinged with anxiety.
“That he is good enemy,” he hesitated hearing the tension in his enemy’s voice, “I am a newcomer to the leadership of Ca-lawh Oosh. You are acquainted with his good self? Is there something I’m unaware of regarding your history?” Said Laysmither, gladly handing the bundle of the girl off to her father.
“That is an understatement ... we have a blood-feud. If we meet or speak ever again one of us must die. I’m unsure we can work together in such circumstances as the feud was instigated by Oosh and The Arbitrators gave him a seal of approval,” said the visored leader. There was a distinct trace of remorse in his tone the visor couldn’t fully hide, “What of the rest of your team? Perhaps there is a chance we can work together in some limited capacity provided myself and Oosh never cross paths.”
“My team is all but annihilated, just myself and Oosh remain. The Lurker finished off two of them and the other two met with, shall we say, rather unfortunate circumstances. The Lurker may well be coming this way, its injured for sure but quite capable judging by what I glimpsed.”
Something suddenly tugged at the man’s attention as he finished checking his daughter’s condition, his eyes widened in astonishment. “Wait! What do you mean ‘unfortunate circumstances’? What do you mean ... you mean my wife is here?” hope and fear now mixed upon the confused man’s face.
“Good sir,” Laysmither urged, “I only recently come to understand that one of our team member’s was a local and I am glad to hear you knew nothing of this as she murdered a member of our team and used his implant on your daughter. I believe she was attempting to make an escape with your daughter.”
“Wha-,” the man was dumbstruck. His jaw lolled in disbelief. “She couldn’t ... how?”
One of the enemy team member’s gripped his shoulder in consolation. “It was her choice. We were hoping she was still alive, maybe we can reconstitute her if her implant is intact.”
Another member of the enemy team interrupted the awkward situation. It removed its helm, a large plume of feathery appendages sprang up from either side of its rotund head, “Vryth, I-kk can sense-kk it! It’s coming-kk this way, maybe-kk seven fallons off-kk ... that way. I’ve never-kk felt anything like-kk this before,” it clucked, protruding viscous eyes rippling out of its face in amazed horror.
The leader gave the man’s shoulder a quick squeeze, “Stay here old comrade. I’ll explain everything soon,” then Vryth turned to his team and uttered something over their comms. They moved out quickly to secure a perimeter around the boulders; disappearing almost as quickly as they’d initially appeared.
The man grasped his daughter close to him and stroked her hair softly. Laysmither held his gaze calmly, “Good sir, we’re all creatures of circumstance. May we but live long enough to wish for better tidings if not the opportunity to see them come to full fruition.” With that he nodded and toward the nook between the boulders.
Arbitrator, I am still nestled with these ominous stones. The girl is in the sleeping clutches of her father and the enemy team moved off deep into the trees as night fell. It is now nearing daybreak and I’m going to attempt to contact Ca-lawh Oosh after this transmission. If I need to use the implants upon my good self I will, but I will hold off for as long as possible and avoid the Lurker to the best of my luck-full abilities. I’ll try and bring the man and girl with me. Something about this child is unusual. I am formally requesting your assistance and offering up half of my gains. “Better a living slave than a dead prince,” as The Great Humwitter says.
You’re up Piper (2 weeks)
Did I ever mention I'm a slow reader? Might take me 2 weeks just to get through all this!
Wish me luck, hopefully I'll have something up soon!!
'Ang on, mates! Is that not a full rotation? So many questions...
I have ONE more part to write (unless you don’t wish to write the ending?)
I understood it to be a submission each, then a wrap-up ending (chapter-wise/section-wise), then some discussion, and another cycle? Where are we in the cycle, with Maverick sidelined? Does he want to jump in? You were to write the end, yes? That was not the end?
Just cornfuzzled, I guess.
We agreed to do three cycles. There will be no communication about where we are directing the narrative other than by what you write.
You have two more parts to write (The Piper) is next in line. We’re just following the same order we started with. You will be last in line but if you don’t wish to finish the story I am happy enough to write an extra closing part - just let me know before I start on the final cycle.
It was going to be two each but the intros were so short and one person dropped out so I asked (see previous page) if everyone was willing to do an extra cycle. Your reply inferred a ‘yes’. I guess if you are not up for a third part we can make do well enough - just give warning please.
Just needed a compass check. I'm up for it.
Initial sketches of Laysmither and the duo Vesa-an and Veso-un.
Separate names with a comma.