So much to do, so little time

I'd like to be able to say I've been steadily writing since completing my 14-day writing challenge, but I suppose unsteadily writing would be a more accurate term. I've mostly been able to maintain my basic goal, which is to be a part of the "The 500 Club", a term coined by author Randy Ingermanson to describe the goal of writing at least 500 words per day, every day. I still tend to be a slacker on the weekends, but I've been pretty good about maintaining my word count during the week. I'm trying to push that to 1000 words per day if possible (and of course, the more the better, so there's no upper limit to how much writing I do per day), but 500 is the very bare minimum I want to make sure I get in. And starting this weekend I'm going to try to add the weekends in as well.

Of course, normally one of the keys to the whole "500 words per day" is that you're writing 500 words on your current work in progress, the goal naturally being to move steadily forward towards actually finishing a novel. Sadly I'm not quite at that stage yet, for any of the stories I've currently got queued up. Of course, the fact that I've got multiple stories queued up is a bit of the problem.

Right now I have three stories that I've at least started development on. The first was a modern-day paranormal/fantasy mystery story. The problem with this story is that the initial idea for the story was nothing more than the opening scene -- a man awakens in a diner with no memory of who he is or how he got there. I loved this idea, this moment. The problem was, I had no clue where to go with it from there. So I started to slowly develop the world of the story, while at the same time trying to develop the plot and move the story forward. Which worked fine up to a point, and then I hit a creative wall. What I'd written so far was mostly just dialogue (generally not a good thing), and I had no idea how to fix it, or how to move the story forward from the point where I was stuck.

Which led me to analyze how I write. As I've gotten more focused on being a serious writer, along with making an effort to actually write every day, I've also spent a lot more time reading about the craft of writing, and trying to learn better ways to write. One of the things I learned is that writers generally fall into one of two categories -- those writers who sit down and start writing with no real plan, just going where their ideas take them (called "pantsers" because they tend to write by the seat of their pants), and outliners, those writers who take the time and effort to build an outline of their plot and figure out all the basics of the story before they sit down and start to write the actual first draft.

In my younger days, I'd always been a pantser (even though I'd never really thought about it that way) -- whenever I felt the desire to write, I'd just sit down and start writing. I was always completely against the idea of outlining first, feeling that would stifle my creativity (and delay me from the actual writing, which was what I most wanted to spend my time on). But when I hit that creative wall on the story I was working on, it made think about the fact that I'd never really finished anything (other than the occasional short story) -- I'd either get bored because the story was wandering around going nowhere, or I'd hit that creative wall and quit because I couldn't figure out where to take the story next.

So I made the decision to set that story aside for awhile, and start fresh with something different, and this time I would try the outliner approach, and fully develop the plot and characters of the story before I started the first draft (this was before I'd done my 14-day writing challenge). My starting point this time wasn't an opening scene; instead, it was a character -- specifically, a new character I'd just developed for the Dungeons & Dragons campaign I was playing in. The character is a bounty hunter living under a curse (well, for the D&D character it's a bit different, but some of the aspects of the character were somewhat unique to D&D, so to avoid any copyright issues (plus not wanting a blatant D&D-based story) I made several basic changes between my D&D character and my new story character).

So with my new character in hand, I started building my story outline, using the Snowflake Method (see the link above to Randy Ingermanson's site -- this method of story development is what he's most known for). I was bit resistant to it at first, since this was very different from how I'd written in the past, but I started to get the basics of the outline together. And then the 14-day short story challenge happened, and I put this on hold to focus on the challenge.

The challenge was a great personal success for me. Not only did I write 14 short stories in 14 days (with an average daily word count over 1800, which for me is amazing), but the second half of the challenge produced a wonderful group of inter-connected stories that I felt potentially had the makings of a novel. So I started working on a basic outline for that, only to quickly discover there were a number of things about the story I needed to research even before I got to the point of outlining, so I set that story aside as well, and turned my attention back to my cursed bounty hunter.

I decided that I needed to know more about the city that is the main setting of the story, so I spent writing time developing and writing the history of the city (which I may post here, once I rewrite it a few times so that it's of sufficient quality that I feel comfortable letting other people read it). But, of course, as I figured out the history of the city, I realized I needed to more of the history of the region as a whole. I was also running into more issues with geography (specifically, when my character leaves the city, I had only the vaguest ideas of what the landscape in his path was like).

The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that I really want (probably moreso than need, if I'm being honest) to fully know the world my story is going to take place in. And since I'd like to (hopefully) turn this story into a series, I figured the more world-building I did up front, the more comfortable I'd feel with my setting going forward. And the time spent felt more justified because it wasn't a bunch of time and effort spent prepping for one story, but for potentially numerous stories.

So that's where things stand as of now. I'm still making a point to get at least 500 (and preferably 1000) words written every day, but for now they aren't actual words in my story, they're words in my outline, or in character backgrounds, or world-building efforts (just finished the first draft of the history of the empire the stories take place in, but that one's still got a lot of work before it's a finalized history). My next step, I think, is to pony up some cash for a mapping program, so I can map out the continent and figure out exactly where all the key locations of the story are in relation to each other. And with luck things will steadily move forward from there!

Story challenge completed!

I'm putting the finishing touches on the final story of my 14-day story challenge, and will have it posted to my writing forum some time before the day is over. I can't believe I managed to write a short story every day for 14 days straight! And I averaged over 1800 words written per day, which for me is a stellar number. Of course, the obvious question then becomes, "If you've done all this writing, why are there no stories posted here for week two?" And the answer to that is that a funny thing happened in week two -- the ideas I had for my stories were really, really good (at least, I think so).

In contrast, I have to fully admit that the stories I wrote for week one, while some of them aren't bad (I was especially happy with Day 1's story), at the end of the day they're basically throwaway stories. They were nice little creative exercises that forced me to push my creativity (and my daily word count), but beyond that I have no desire to do anything further with them. They are what they are, and we move on.

When I finished Day 8's story, however, I realized that I loved the concept of the story, and the possible bigger world of that story. The rest of week 2's stories all tied into this same narrative, and as I wrote them, all kinds of ideas for expanding them further came to me (including possibly writing a novella/novel based on this story world).

Because of this, I decided I'm going to sit on these stories until I've had time to really develop them and rework them into something really worth reading -- possibly even publishable (which you certainly can't do when you've only got a 1-day turnaround to get them written, edited, and posted). So stay tuned to this space for further updates as that story develops! And I'll likely post other short stories as I come up with them, or other updates of one sort or another.

If anyone out there's actually reading this silly little blog, if you have any ideas for things you'd like to see here, feel free to drop me a comment!

Story Challenge, Day 7

And so my first story arc, and the first half of the writing challenge, comes to a close. I bring things full circle with this short, simple little story. And starting tomorrow I'm gong to start fresh with something very different for week two.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

Ferrig hid in the woods for two full days before he worked up the nerve to return to the hilltop where he’d left his cannon. He was both shocked and relieved to see that it was still right where he’d left it. His joy turned to heartbreak, however, when he reached the cannon. Right in the middle of it, someone had driven an iron spike down through the top, all the way through so that the tip came out the bottom. Ferrig wanted to drop to his knees and weep. His beautiful, beautiful cannon, ruined! Even if he somehow managed to remove the spike, the cannon could never be used again.

Even though it was now useless, Ferrig couldn’t bear to leave it behind, and so he hooked it up to his horse and pulled it along behind him. He considered going back to Femren, but didn’t know for certain if they knew he’d been the one who’d destroyed the golem. And even if they didn’t, he just couldn’t bring himself to go back. He’d never really liked the place anyways, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d miss if he just left. He would find work elsewhere, and start his life over. Maybe he’d even make a new cannon one day.

*****

The dragon soared just below the clouds, floating along on the air currents. He scanned the ground below him, looking for something to break up the monotony of his day. Then he saw a lone human on horseback, pulling something along behind him down a mountain road. This bore some investigation. The dragon angled down out of the clouds, flying low over the road. This caused the horse to panic, throwing his rider. But that wasn’t what interested the dragon. It was the long metal tube behind them that had caught his eye.

He’d always had a fascination with all types of metal – gold, silver, iron. He’d amassed quite a collection of treasures. And while the metal tube didn’t look valuable in any traditional sense, the size and shape of it was very intriguing. He’d never seen anything like it. Yes, this needed to be added to his collection. Circling around, he dropped down over it, wrapping a massive claw around each end and pulling it free of the wooden frame it rested on. He rose slowly into the air. The weight was significant, but manageable.

*****

Ferrig’s horse had noticed the dragon before he had, and it reared up in panic, throwing him from the saddle. By the time he’d gotten back to his feet and realized what had happened, the dragon was already lifting his cannon into the air. Not his precious cannon! He’d worked too hard to make that cannon. He’d destroyed that damned golem with his cannon. There was no way he was going to let a filthy dragon take it away from him!

“You bring that back. That’s my cannon!”

He ran forward and wrapped both arms around the cannon as it rose up into the air. Before he knew it his feet were dangling in the air as the dragon continued to rise higher. He threw his legs up, wrapping them around the cannon as well. He clung tightly to the cannon with his whole body, jerking and tugging on it.

“You can’t have my cannon. Now let go!”

The dragon continued to rise higher, moving away from the road and up into the mountains. But Ferrig’s added weight, combined with his struggles as he continued to try and twist the cannon from the dragon’s claws, was making it more and more difficult to maintain his hold. Finally he just gave up. If the human wanted to keep his silly iron tube so badly, he was welcome to it. There were plenty of other treasures out there for the dragon’s collection. Releasing his hold on the cannon, he gave his wings a hard flap and shot off towards home.

When the cannon was first released, there was the briefest moment of floating. “That’s right, this is mine!” But as Ferrig said this, gravity took hold, and he realized just how foolish his actions had been. By then, however, it was much too late, and he and his cannon were plummeting back to the ground. The cannon impacted with the ground with a resounding thud and a crunch, and that was the end of Ferrig the blacksmith.

Story Challenge, Day 6

Here is the 6th entry in my story challenge. One more and this story arc will be complete. Then it will be on to something different and new for week 2! The story prompt for today's story was to write a story that featured a monster working with humans.


 

The Golem

As the weeks went by, the city council of Femren came to realize that giving up all that gold in exchange for the stone golem may well have been a really good deal after all. The fact that it never got tired or needed to sleep, didn’t need to eat or relieve itself, and most importantly, didn’t need to be paid, proved to be more invaluable than they could have ever imagined.

The first task they set it was building a city wall, a project they had been putting off, since most of the available men were either focused on mining, or wanted to charge more for their labors than the councilmen had been willing to pay. Once given the task, the golem set to it, moving slowly but steadily along. The services of the stonemason’s guild were still required to pull the stones from the quarry and properly shape them to fit the wall, but the golem would ceaselessly haul them from the quarry to the wall and put them into place. It worked day and night, only pausing in its efforts on those occasions when the stonemasons had fallen far enough behind it to not have any stones ready.

The townsfolk were initially more than a little afraid of the golem. While they were thrilled that it had killed the blood mage, at the same time, the fact that it was powerful enough to do so gave them cause to be wary. But as time went on they came to realize that there was nothing to be afraid of. When it wasn’t going quietly about its work, it would simply stand in place. The children, who at first had hidden at the very sight of it, were soon following it around, and climbing on it when it would stand immobile awaiting the efforts of the stonemasons.

Even though it never responded, the people would greet it as it walked past as if it were a friendly neighbor. The people of Femren were very proud of the fact that they had their very own golem, almost like it was a status symbol. There was only one person in the town who really, really did not like the golem, and that was Ferrig, the blacksmith. Ferrig was a big, burly man – the biggest, burliest man in the town, in fact. A fact that he took great pride in. He would often do feats of strength to show off for the ladies, or as wagers to win himself free drinks in the tavern.

At least, until the golem showed up. With its inhuman strength, no one was impressed with poor old Ferrig any more. It didn’t matter that his strength was natural, and human, and built up over years working metal on his forge, while the golem’s strength was inhuman, unnatural enchantment. Oh no, no one could be bothered to think about that when they ignored him or laughed when he tried to show off his muscles. No more wagers for drinks, no more girls swooning over him. And all because of that golem! By the Gods, something had to be done about it.

After much thinking, Ferrig gathered up all the gold he could spare, left his assistants in charge of the smithy, got up on his horse, and headed down the road to the capital. The resources he’d require could not be found in Femren, nor did he have the skill required – at least not yet. But a traveler a while back had told him of an amazing invention, one he’d almost not believed at the time. It was called a cannon, and supposedly it could hurl a metal ball great distances with incredible force. And most importantly, there was no magic to it. It was something a blacksmith could construct, and by the Gods he was going to learn to construct one.

He’d been to the capital a few times over the years, so he knew where in the market district the smithies were to be found. He went from one to another, asking if they knew the secret to making a cannon. It took many attempts, but finally he found someone who could indeed assist him in building a cannon. He’d been ready to pay whatever the smith had asked, but one look at his size and strength, and the smith had offered to help him for free, in exchange for him using his muscles to help with several other projects the smith was working on.

And so Ferrig had agreed. He ended up spending several weeks with the smith, learning how to make cannons and assisting the smith in making a number that he needed for the city watch. There were numerous other jobs he ended up being forced to spend time on as well, as part of his payment, but in Ferrig’s mind it was more than worth it. Finally, the smith’s other cannon order was completed, and Ferrig had gained enough skill that he was ready to forge a cannon of his own.

When the cannon was finally complete, Ferrig couldn’t have been more proud of himself. It was a thing of beauty. He had also forged one single cannonball for it. Now came the next stage of his quest – he had to acquire gunpowder for it, and more importantly, learn how to shoot it. This required a trip to the city watch, who were responsible for all the cannons that lined the walls of the capital. The smith who’d trained Ferrig was able to make an introduction to the head of the watch, informing him of how helpful Ferrig had been in constructing the batch of cannons that they had just received.

Ferrig and the watch captain sat down to discuss Ferrig’s requirements, and were able to come to an agreement. Ferrig would assist the watch in getting their new cannons lifted up onto the walls and put in place, and in return he would be taught how to properly aim and fire one, and be provided with a small amount of gunpowder for his own cannon. Ferrig readily agreed to the deal – now here was a place that knew the value of human strength, unlike all those fools back home in Femren!

With his training done and his gunpowder acquired, he had but one more task to complete in the capital, and then he would be ready to return home to complete his quest. Of course, his final task here was not one he was comfortable with, but it was also one he knew would be necessary if he wanted success. For even though the cannon could easily send its cannonball smashing through normal stone, the golem was enchanted stone, which meant that Ferrig would need magic of his own if he was going to end the menace of the golem once and for all.

With help from the watch captain, Ferrig was able to locate a wizard who was willing to place an enchantment on his cannonball that would guarantee it would shatter the golem and end the spell that animated it. Sadly, though, the wizard had no use for Ferrig’s strength, and was only interested in gold. It took almost every bit of gold that he had, but Ferrig was able to make a deal, and a day later he had his enchanted cannonball. Now it was time to return home!

The cannon was attached to a wheeled base, and Ferrig pulled it along behind his horse. When he neared Femren, he left the road, circling around the town to the hills that overlooked it. Leaving the cannon, he road closer to town, eyes alert for the golem. Soon he saw it. Luckily it was not currently engaged in any work, and was just standing there. There were people around it, but no one too close. Perfect!

Ferrig went back to his cannon, hauling it to a better position. Once it was in place, he went through the process he’d been taught, putting in the gunpowder and the enchanted cannonball. Then he very carefully aimed. A smile spread across his face as he lit the fuse. BOOM! The cannon roared, kicking back so far it knocked Ferrig over. The cannonball sped through the air. Ferrig’s aim had been true, and the cannonball impacted dead center in the middle of the golem’s chest.

There was an explosion of stone as the cannonball punched through the golem’s chest and imbedded in the wall behind it. And then the enchantment took over, breaking down the magic that animated the golem. It collapsed to the ground, nothing more than a pile of rubble. Ferrig jumped into the air, his fists raised rose over his head in triumph. That showed that mystical monstrosity! Now he would once more be the strong man of the village.

Many of the townsfolk in the immediate vicinity had been knocked to the ground by the blast. As they stood up and dusted themselves off, there was initially confusion, but all too quickly they realized what had happened. Everyone looked up in the direction the cannonball had come from. The sunlight was such that they could only make out the outline of the attacker, but they could clearly see he was there.

Ferrig’s smile faded abruptly as he watched the townsfolk. The looks on their faces and their shouts of anger as they charged towards him gave him sudden concern. He quickly ran for his horse, eager to get out of sight before the villagers got to him. Maybe destroying the golem hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Story Challenge, Day 5

Five down, nine to go. Almost halfway there! Today's story prompt was to write about a bloody room that is cause for celebration. And so that's what I give you.

Blood From A Stone

Talk was spreading rapidly through the town – about the missing miners, about the massive patch of ground that had changed overnight from its normal sandy brown to a dark rust red, and most importantly about the nearby mage who suddenly had gold to spare, and was using it to hire all manner of craftsmen and builders for the construction of a massive tower. Finally, the town council decided a meeting must be held on the matter.

“All that gold rightly belongs to the town, not to some filthy blood mage.”

“And who knows what evils he’ll be involved in once his tower is finished.”

“Gods know he’s likely responsible for several murders already!”

“Yes, yes, all very valid points,” the mayor said, doing his best to calm the councilmen. “But let us not forget that he is not only likely a thief and a murderer, he is also a mage. And we have no way of knowing how powerful a mage.”

“So we hire a mage of our own!”

“How can we afford a mage? All our tax revenues are committed to expanding the town.”

“Tell him he can have the blood mage’s gold!”

“That is an excellent idea,” the mayor said. “But I think we shall offer half the blood mage’s gold – we should at least see some financial gain from this endeavor.” This brought on a cheer from all of the council members. “And I think I know of someone who may be just who we need. I will send an emissary to him, and we shall see if he is willing to help us.”

*****

“Master, there is someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“He claims he is a representative of the mayor of Femren, seeking your aid.”

“Hmm, Femren, you say? A lot of wealth in Femren these days. All right, send him in.”

“Master Tenbris, my lord bids me request your aid,” the messenger said, dropping to one knee and bowing his head.

“Oh, get up, get up. I’m not some silly nobleman who expects everyone to speak to him on bowed knee. Now what is it I can do for the mayor of Femren?”

The messenger stood up.

“We are having problems with a blood mage, sir. We believe he has stolen a significant quantity of gold from the mines near the town, and has likely killed several miners as well. The mayor humbly requests your assistance in dealing with him, sir.”

“Oh, he ‘requests my assistance’ does he? You mean he wants me to take care of the problem for him.”

The messenger blushed  slightly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Yes sir.”

“And what exactly is in it for me?”

“The mayor has offered to give you half of all gold recovered from the mage on proof of his demise.”

“A full half, eh? Quite the generous sort, your mayor, only keeping half for himself.” The messenger had nothing to say to this. “But your mayor is in luck. I’ve had my eye on your blood mage for some time now myself. Up till now he hasn’t looked to be more than a minor nuisance, but if he has amassed all this gold as you claim, that could be problematic, especially if he starts acquiring himself more powerful artifacts.”

“He’s currently having a tower built, sir.”

“A tower, you say? Oh, that is amusing. Can’t be a proper wizard without your own tower! That is truly priceless. But more importantly, it means he likely hasn’t gotten around to spending his ill-gotten gains on things of actual worth. Good, good. Tell your mayor that I will take on his cause, and I will even be generous enough to let him keep half of the blood mage’s gold.”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir. I will go tell him at once.”

Tenbris watched the messenger hurry off. Yes, it would appear it was finally time to deal with that fool Sothus once and for all. But the question was, how best to do it? Tenbris had no doubts that the blood mage was nowhere close to his level of skill, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. And blood magic was especially tricky to deal with, because its strength lies in something every living thing has – blood. Hmm. That was indeed the answer, wasn’t it? If his enemy’s strength was blood, the key to fighting him would be in having none. This called for some research.

*****

It took several hours of study, but Tenbris found exactly the spell he required – the creation of a stone golem. This would be the perfect thing to take out the blood mage. Gathering the ingredients he needed, he made a trip to the nearest quarry. There he laid out his ingredients and cast his spell. The stones around him began to tremor, then to shake, then they uprooted themselves and pulled together into the rough outline of a man.

“Golem, I am Tenbris. You will obey my commands!”

Tenbris mounted his horse. He turned and headed off, the golem following along behind him. They traveled slowly cross country until they reached the home of Sothus. It was late in the evening, and the builders had all gone home for the day. The beginnings of the blood mage’s new tower where coming together, right next to his current home.

Tenbris closed his eyes, concentrating. Yes, the blood mage was inside. Opening his eyes, he turned to the golem. “Golem, kill the man in that house. Then your job is done,” he said, pointing to the house.

The golem lurched forward towards the house. Tenbris turned and left. Once the golem had finished its task, the spell would end and it would collapse back into stone, so there was no need for him to remain. He would take up a room at an inn in Femren, and on the morrow he would return to take possession of his gold.

*****

Sothus paced around the room. The building just wasn’t happening fast enough! He wanted his tower finished now. If he had to threaten the builders’ families, he’d get them motivated to get moving. Then a loud crash interrupted his thoughts. He was about to investigate when a massive stone form entered the room.

“And what exactly are you supposed to be?”

The stone golem made not a sound as it approached him. Sothus reached out his hand and his staff flew across the room and into his grip. Rotating his open palm in a small circle, he tightly closed his fist shut. Only nothing happened, no connection to his opponent was made.

“Oh, well done. Whoever has sent you at me made certain you had no blood in your body. But that is hardly enough to stop me!”

He swept his staff through the air in front of him, and an invisible force slammed into the golem, knocking it aside. It smashed into Sothus’ cauldron, shattering it and spilling its bloody contents all over the floor. The golem appeared unfazed as it rose once again to its feet, now covered in blood. It continued its slow, steady approach. Sothus backed away, firing off a blast of mystic energy from his staff. The energy impacted the golem in the chest, and the blood on it burst into flames, releasing an acrid, bitter smoke.

At the same time, the golem’s features began to contort. Its arms and legs grew more human-like, shedding excess stone. A face formed, then changed to a different face, then a third, then a forth. It took Sothus a moment, but he recognized several of the faces. They belonged to his victims, those people whose blood had made up the contents of his shattered cauldron. He sent another blast at the golem, but this time it had no noticeable effect. The golem continued forward, backing Sothus into a corner.

The golem then reached out with its massive hand and grabbed hold of the blood mage’s head. It squeezed, just once, and that was the end of Sothus. His now headless corpse collapsed to the floor, blood flowing from the neck to join the blood from the cauldron that was spattered about the room and soaking into the floor.

*****

Tenbris was relaxing in the tavern, enjoying a pint of mead, when the tavern’s doors were pushed open and a massive stone form entered. Tenbris recognized it immediately, even though its form was completely changed. Instead of the simple, roughly manlike form he had created, standing before him was a stone man, with fairly well defined arms and legs, hands and feet, even a fully formed face. But clearly it was still his golem – he could feel the magic inside of it.

“It is done,” the golem said.

“Now this is an interesting development. What exactly has happened to you? And how is it that you are still up and about, when your magic should have ceased with the death of the blood mage? Hmm, interesting indeed. Wait outside while I think this over.”

The golem turned and left the tavern. Tenbris pondered the matter as he sipped his mead. Somehow, it would seem, during the battle the blood mage’s magic must have merged with the magic animating the golem, creating a new spell of sorts, one that had both changed its features, and given it life beyond his original spell. Which begged the question, now what did he do with it? Oh well, that would be a question for tomorrow.

*****

The next morning Tenbris met with the town council. They were a little alarmed to see the golem standing behind him, but were more than thrilled to hear of his defeat of Sothus.

“Well done, Master Tenbris!” the mayor said. “You have our heartfelt thanks!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. But let us not forget the matter of my payment.”

“Of course. Once all the mage’s gold is gathered and tallied, you will be sent your half.”

“About that. I’ve thought the matter over, and I think I will be taking all of the gold.”

“What?!” The rest of council’s shocked replies echoed that of the mayor.

“Not to worry, I give you something in return for your half of the gold.” Tenbris turned and held out his hand towards the golem. “I have no real need for the services of this golem any longer, and don’t feel it is worth the effort to disenchant him, so I am giving him to you. He is strong, unwaveringly loyal, and I would imagine very useful in both building and mining. So what say you?”

There was a fair bit of grumbling among the council members, but none of them felt so bold as to openly argue with the wizard.

“I guess that would be a fair enough trade,” the mayor responded.

“Good.” Tenbris look at the golem. “Golem, you now belong to the mayor of Femren. You will obey his commands henceforth.”

The golem simply nodded.

“Now I shall be on my way. Cheer up, gentlemen. This is cause for celebration! And now, I bid you farewell.”

*****

While the council felt little desire to celebrate, for the townsfolk it was a different story. As soon as word got out that the blood mage was dead, a group was sent to investigate. With the discovery of his bloody remains, there were many calls for rejoicing (the builders’ and stonemasons’ guilds were especially happy, for they had already been paid for work they no longer needed to do, and to a man they had been more than a little unnerved whenever they’d been forced to interact with Sothus). And so a grand feast was held, while the town council tried to figure out how best to make use of their new golem.