Brushing Off The Apocalypse

So I decided to brush off my Apocalypse idea that has been rumbling around in my brain since I am going back on the night shift hopefully soon. Looking at WikiHow and their 7 Steps to Write Apocalyptic Stories I know my Step one already. It will be as the world is ending, trying to plan for the survival of as many as possible. Step two Decide why the world ended and how. Alright that is a lot more difficult. Time to look up ways the world could end online? NOT a good idea. After an hour of random searching I have given up. Not that I didn’t get a few ideas:

Pandemic

Solar storm destroying electronics. Just one storm could plunge entire cities into darkness by knocking out power grids and bringing down communications networks.

Super Volcano in Yellowstone or Japan or Europe

Global War

Zombies? Let’s face it zombies are everywhere.

My apocalypse needs to be something that will still allow people to live. Something fast enough to devastate governmental programs. Something to get people to want to hunker down together with strangers. Something that possibly still allows for communication. Something long term enough to have to set up crops and schools within the compound building. I think I now remember part of the reason why this idea ended up in storage.

New Life - A persuasive letter to my husband

New Life

A persuasive letter to my husband.

I am disgusted with living in the trailer. With the mice that multiply faster than I could kill them from the neighbors infestation. The hoarders paradise our Florida room had become, not to mention the closet and the office. Back to rodents, a squirrel has made a home in the roof above our bedroom. We have reset the eves, tried traps, shot it with pellet guns, and even poison but nothing has worked.  That is just the tip of the iceberg.

There is also the park itself and its managing staff. Our rent went up fifty percent when the roads throughout the park were supposed to be repaved; they were just given a half-asked November patch job that did not survive the winter. The sewer lines were redone in the first two rows of the park, I live on the fifth, but all of our rents increased as well as our water and sewer bills. Then there is the new park handyman, a man of a thousand excuses to not come and help. Easier to pay more to have a professional come and do whatever is needed.

The worst by far is the park manager. Since he is too cheap to hire someone to plow the park in the winter he purchased a pickup truck with a plow, I should say we purchased it since he increased our rent for it, to do the plowing himself. I told him what time I work and that with my job, as an emergency dispatcher, I do not have the luxury of not going into work during bad weather. The first major snow storm, more than a foot of snow, and he has not come through with the plow. I call him to say that I have to get to work. He said he was at his other properties and he would be there when he would get there.

In addition, I am tired of traveling nearly an hour every day to a job I despise. So when the sign went up for “Kenwood Commons” on the old convent across from my place of employment I was intrigued. When I looked into it and found it was going to be an artist retreat I was disappointed, at first. Until I read that they included writers as artists. That they will have classes open to the community. It could be a new place for me to learn writing and improve my craft. Therefore, I emailed them to find out more about the classes.

In their response, I found out they are going to be selling condominiums. They will have anywhere from one to four bedrooms available. To quote their brochure “Each of our very special condominium residences, has been painstakingly designed to highlight their historic and architectural beauty and to seamlessly incorporate all of today’s new “Smart-Home” technology.”

Just think about the new life we could have. A brand new place to live.

I could walk to work instead of drive, no traffic hassles and it will help my health and weight loss. The walk back at night might be an issue but we can figure that out together, perhaps you can just pick me up on your way home from work?

We could get a two-bedroom condominium. One bedroom to use as a bedroom. The second to use as an office and guest bedroom with a day bed, desk, and my long dresser. Sort of like the way my office is set up now but without all the clutter.

We could get you a kitchen that would be all yours to do with whatever you want. You could rediscover your passion for cooking in their “performance kitchen for the culinary arts” or go back to writing as you did when you worked security.

I love that the amenities include a “Mail & Package Room with Refrigerated Space” that will be perfect for your insulin if we go away for a while. In addition, they will have a dog park for Jonouchi, Charity, and Simone if Mom and Pa come to visit. Mom and Pa will have to get their own space to stay but Pa might like it for his painting and Mom will like it because of the eight-week complimentary stay in exchange for a painting deal.

They plan on adding a wellness center which means we can truly expand our Young Living business throughout the Kenwood Commons and beyond to those just passing through and then bypass Glenn and the rest. In addition, the supplements if we do Usana with Connie.

I could teach writing courses without having to open up a writing shop. I could still do the Cratejoy business and possibly even get subscribers from people passing through Kenwood Commons and my writing classes. Between those three businesses plus my writing and whatever you want to do, we might be able to finally quit our day jobs.

The other option is to get a one bedroom and have the living room area divided into living room and office space with a fold out couch for guests but that would require a large living room. We can see what they offer. I know you will want a living room to watch television and movies. Personally, I would prefer not to have that in the office, thus my original thought of a two bedroom flat.

This could be great for Angel too. Even with the kids, they will have three-bedroom triplexes. There will be a bedroom for each of them, Angel, Harley, and Logan. Angel can go back to experimenting with art. The kids can get early exposure to great art. If he gets an actual condominium not just an eight-week artist in residence then they will have a secure home and it is not too far from his work too in Glenmont. It will be right on the Route 7 CSEA bus. Do not let me forget to tell my brother about this even if we cannot get it for ourselves!

The Leviathan in the Fog

The fog was thick around the open port. The captain had us each positioned five feet apart at the port and starboard bows so that we did not run into anything in the gloom. We were crawling, with only one sail at half-mast. We could hear the waves slapping the hull of only our boat. I listened hard for the creaks of docks or the sounds of anything really that would mean we were not alone in the white-out mist. I heard nothing but water on wood below me and cloth rustling in the wind around me.

I was on the starboard side and thus spared the sight of the initial assault. The tremendous crunching crash as something ripped through the port beam, ripping amidship outboard. The screams of those stationed along the port bow.

Then shouting from the other sailors demanding to know what happened. Panic.

“Silence” Bellowed our Captain. Not another word was spoken by the crew. “Deckhands to Arms. Riggers Hoist All Sails.”

The riggers climbed like monkeys. I had my rapier in my right hand and my short sword in the left in a reverse grip. Then I saw the huge crab claw. It was bigger than me. Bigger than any man. It clipped the main mast a few feet above the deck and carried it, and a half-dozen riggers, into the gloom.

A leviathan crab in a trading port. It was mindboggling. These vermin, because for all of their colossal size they were no smarter than the basic beach crabs, should be hunted down and destroyed as soon as they approach a port city. They destroyed ships for no other reason than to get at the sailors on board to feast upon.

The ship began to move, forward and starboard, away from where the crab most likely was. I strode to the port quarter to try and score a strike against the next attack from the crab. The ship heaved a little over halfway along my short journey. I fell and rolled, careful to not cut myself with my own blades. Then I looked up and saw the starboard bow of the ship in the clutches of both of the crustaceous claws. It pushed the starboard bow of the boat underwater, lifting the stern. The pitch caused myself and others on deck to slide towards the crabs waiting mouthparts. I didn’t think, just stabbed my short sword into the deck of the ship and held on for dear life as the rapier slid into the gullet of the leviathan crab along with more than half of the crew.  Then riggers began to fall from the masts, crossbeams, and ropes they had been clinging to as the beast shook the ship.

Finally the vermin let go. With a huge splash the stern of the ship landed back into the bay. I clung to my short sword. I thought I was the only one left alive. Then I felt the ship turn. I looked up to the wheelhouse. There stood the Captain. He had tied himself to the rails. I looked up into the rigging. There were other sailors up there too. I looked around the main deck. I was alone down here. I looked out over the bow, we were headed out to the open sea again. Hopefully the next port would be close by and relatively vermin free.

Mama’s Broken Hearted Bloodrager

This is just a college extracurricular activity to you. You are not serious about being a professional crawler. Even if you were, your heiress mother would never allow it. XCrawl is my career. I need a female life partner who can help me in and out of the dungeons. Our relationship has run its course.

 

With a scream I threw my phone against the wall. It fell to the floor in pieces. How dare he break up with me via text? Tears streaming down my face I screamed again.

 

Just last week, for his birthday, I gifted him with elven masterwork MiniLynx light armor. I spent three thousand seven hundred fifty dollars getting him the most expensive, best armor legal to our division. It had been fun taking his measurements naked, all those months ago for the custom ordered armor.  Now all that was over.

 

Thinking of better times I remembered I had an expensive bottle of champagne, his favorite, in the wine chiller with my merlots for graduation. I pulled it out. The cork gave a loud pop. When the initial overflow stopped I took my first swig.

 

Someone pounded at my front door. I stalked over to it and, without looking through the peephole, threw the door wide open with a defiant, “What?”

 

The two police officers on the other side were taken aback for a minute. “We received reports of screams from this residence.” The elder officer stated.

 

“Don’t worry. You can tell my neighbors I am done screaming. I think I have found a better outlet.” I said taking another swig from the champagne bottle.

 

“How much have you had to drink, miss?” The officer asked.

 

“Just two swigs so far.” I answered honestly. At his look of disbelief I explained. “Bad breakup. He broke up with me with a text message. This,” indicating the bottle of champagne “was supposed to celebrate our graduation in two weeks.”

 

“Do you mind if we come in and have a look around to make sure everything is secure?”

 

“Sure.” I said stepping aside so they could enter. They did and I took another swig of champagne.

 

“What happened to your phone?” The younger officer asked looking at the pieces by the wall.

 

“I threw it against the wall after reading the breakup text.” I admitted; then, took another swig.

 

The elder officer came back from my kitchen area and looked at me. It was a small apartment. Bedroom/living room that the younger officer and I were standing in and kitchen with bathroom off of it that the elder officer had searched. “It’s secure.” He told his partner.

 

“I promise no more screaming.” I said solemnly. Then I took another drink from the bottle of champagne.

 

“Try not to drink yourself to death too.” The elder officer said walking out the door.

 

“He is not worth it.” The younger officer said apologetically.

 

“Thank you.” I replied.  Then I shut the door on them. I laid down on my bed and continued drinking. Eventually I must have finished the champagne and gotten up for a bottle of merlot because there was an open bottle and a large red stain on the floor next to the bed the next afternoon when I woke up.

 

The Witch’s Plan

I will go to Detmer. First, I shall go overland from my home in Omesta to Erages with my peacock familiar. From Erages we will board a small ship and go to Detmer.

At Detmer,I will sell my poppets as mindless rowers for ships. My poppets need no food, no water, and no breaks. They cost me five hundred gold pieces to make but rich sea captains that frequent Detmer will see the savings. They will order them.

In addition, I can learn other things too there about woodworking. The elves below us do not like to share their knowledge of wood crafting.

I will pack simply. My Obsession Log, my tools, my spell component pouch, a light crossbow, and the battle ladder I had made myself. I put on my favorite outfit and took the rest of my items, except a soap that I really liked that I stuck in my belt pouch, to the provisioner to trade for coins and items I would need for the journey.

Dragon Battle for the Oasis

Authors note: Head hopping story, each paragraph swaps between the two main characters.

It was time for me to leave the lair before my siblings. I grabbed a clawful of gems and coins and flew out into the desert sunrise.

Mother says it is time for me to go. I am the last of my clutch still in her lair. This morning she handed me a sack and says if I come back tonight, she will eat me.

I fly high up in the sky, the blue camouflaging my scales. I see an oasis by a rock formation that looks nothing like the nose horn of a great wyrm. As I land on a high ledge, I see that there are even humanoids present for enslavement.

I fly just skimming the sand. I enjoy the warmth on my brass scales. As dragons go, I am still little and the sand provides swell camouflage. I stopped to examine a rock formation. The walls were mostly sheer. The sandstone was smooth with a deep crag in the center that has a sand bottom.  The few overhangs pointed toward an oasis that contained a temporary encampment. I lay on a lower ledge with a sigh of contentment. Watching humanoids is my favorite pastime.

I heard a sigh from an outcropping below me. I looked and saw a brass dragon, my size, with a sack, staring at my slaves. This is my territory. I breathed a line of lightning at the interloper.

A bolt of lightning struck me from the clear, blue sky. I swung my head to look and saw a blue dragon on the shelf above me. He would not corrupt or enslave these people. “Be gone beguiler.” I blew a line of fire at him.

I leapt off my perch, leaving my coins and gemstones, partially avoiding the return breath weapon. “This is my territory, you be gone.” I felt the tingle in my back teeth and let loose another bolt of electricity.

I rolled to the right, off my pedestal and dropped the sack to the sand, to avoid the second bolt. “Wrong. I will cauterize this territory of your presence.” Flames licked my throat so I sent a second line of fire at the evil dragon.

I spent too much on that last blast of electricity. Instead I dove toward the interloper, claws extended, prepared to tear it apart. I screamed, “I shall save my breath and simply rip you to shreds.”

I dodged his attempt to claw me and again spit a line of fire at the offender. “Liar. You have no breath left with which to do battle.”

Now I was below the other dragon and still without a spark. I took off, away from the oasis. I could come back and reclaim it another day.

Typical blue dragon, if they cannot win they run. “Coward.” I bellowed giving chase with a line of flame searing his scales between his wings.

I was in pain and still had no spark. I had one chance, to turn and attack the oasis. I could dry up the water, then kill the brass dragon when it is distracted, then replace the water to my grateful subjects. I banked and turned straight back towards the brass dragon. “I am no coward.” I declared. I would hit it on the way through.

The blue brute was coming back towards me, intending no doubt to hit me head on. I rolled in midair just before he could bite me. His claws missed me but I scraped his underside. “If you are not a coward then why do you run?” I demanded, as I had to turn and again give chase, this time back towards the oasis.

Now I got the electric tingle. I could wait until after enacting my plan; but, I should have another charge built up by then. I was not a coward. I made an S-turn to send a bolt of lightning back at my pursuer.

The electricity stung. I had flames to return fire and did so with gusto. It was a direct hit and the blue dragon smashed into the backside of the rock formation. I flew back to the blue dragons perch and sat triumphant. This was my oasis to guard and these were my people now.

 

The Secret Gift

I am still grieving my mothers death, from nine days ago, when my father returned from his latest round of adventuring. He even came with two lovely spoils from a slain green dragon as gifts for us. He was so happy that mother was not home. He did not even ask where she was. He just wanted to show me the lovely brooch he had gotten for my mother. He had taken it directly from the dragons hoard. It was in the shape of a frog, her favorite animal, with little gemstones set into its back. “I got them all appraised. The dwarf who appraised them said they were all real and some are even valuable. Some sapphires and rubies. Mostly amethyst, aquamarine, garnet, rose quartz, spinels of pink, green, blue, and red, as well as various shades of topaz. The dwarf said that the metal of the brooch was gold, not pure but still high quality.”

“We need to have a conversation…”

“I had a special present made for you.” He continued as if I had not even tried to tell him. “It is a small bag you can wear about your neck. The container portion of the necklace is chainmail and covered in the hide of the green dragon we slew. There are also parts, such as the neck of the container for example, that are made up solely of dragonhide. Sinews from the dragons’ claws are used to hang the container from your neck. It is little bigger than your hand in diameter and height.”

“Father, I need to tell you something important.” I said as he pulled the shiny, green-scaled bottle-looking thing out of his beltpouch.

“The eye in the wood that seals the dragonhide of the neck of the container is one of the actual eyes from the green dragon we killed.” He continued, showing off his gift to me and not paying attention to what I was trying to have him understand.

“Mother is not coming home.” I said softly.

“What do you mean?” He asked looking around the front room that used to be my bedroom. I had already moved her bed out of my mother bedroom and mine into it. The local tavern was willing to take the bed for a good bit of coin. I had also moved my clothing and other incidentals, along with the hope chest they had been in, into the bedroom. Now the front room looked like a proper sitting room. “Where is your mother?”

“As I have been trying to tell you since you walked through the door.” I said finally losing my temper. “Mother died nine days ago.”

“Well I knew I was going to outlive her but I did not think she would be going this soon.” He said sitting in one of the highbacked, fabric-covered chairs I had purchased with the money I made selling mothers bed. He looked up at me. “Who is going to take care of you now?”

“I can take care of myself.” I answered affronted.

“You are barely twenty years old.” He scoffed.

“I am only half an elf. I am half-human like my mother too. If I were fully human, I would be married by now.”

“If you were fully an elf you would just be starting lessons in the arcane arts.” He snapped back. “You are neither.”

“Thank you so much for the reminder.”

He sighed. “You are right, Ouida. You are no longer a child. Come with me on my next adventure.”

That gave me pause. “I am not sure where you are going to sleep since I have taken over the bedroom.” I said not offering it to him.

“I can roll out my bedroll in here.” He said smiling and gesturing between my chairs.

“That works.” I agreed.

“Here is your present my darling.” He said handing me the chainmail and dragonhide bag. I took it and he slipped the brooch into my hand as well. “You would have inherited it anyway.” He said with a sad smile.

“I think it is time we settled in.” I began walking towards my bedroom in the back of the cottage. “I have already eaten dinner. There are some fruits I was saving for breakfast in the morning on the kitchen table if you want.” I had no need to change the kitchen. It was simple kitchen. A table against the left wall with three chairs around it. A counter for cooking along the other wall. A stove built into the outside wall. That was it beyond baskets for storage.

“I will go to the tavern.” My father said, placing his pack against one of the chairs and leaving without another word.

I took the gifts to my bedroom, then closed and barred the door. I had heard horror stories about drunken, widowed fathers. I placed the brooch in the chest of items I kept that had belonged to Mother at the foot of my bed. I had moved my belongings from it to her chest of drawers. Then I examined the bag. It was pliable but had a metallic crunch when I squeezed it.

Then the eye blinked. The eye of the dragon that was supposed to be dead. Inside my head, I heard. “I can teach you magic child. Magic thy elven father will never be able to access.”

“What do you want in return?” I asked suspicious.

“Nothing. I like this form. No pain. I can hold a hoard for us within the chainmail inside my scales. My mental faculties are intact, or at least they seem to be so far. I was a great wyrm in constant pain from former battle wounds, dying of old age of all things. You can be my magic, casting spells for the two of us. I will teach you every spell, spell-like ability, and magical trick I know. It might take decades but half-elves live that long right?”

“I will.” I said grinning. “Can we start the magic lessons now?”

“Of course my apprentice.”

This Isn't Horror

Origionally this was supposed to be for a horror anthology. Once I finished it and was editing and trying to come up with a title I understood the horrible truth. This is not horror. So I am putting it here.


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Growing up my father taught me what to do if attacked by a dog. He said, “If a dog you don’t know approaches you. Put your left arm across your belly. Put your right arm across your neck. When they bite, push back into their mouth breaking their jaw or choking them. Don’t pull away, their teeth are meant to hold and tear. When they shake their heads, use the momentum to continue the motion to snap the dog’s neck.”

My father got me a puppy when I graduated college. A lab mastiff mix. He was my blond baby. I named him Yin.

We did a lot of training. First Yin was house broken. Then obedience school. Then training as a service dog, as my health was lacking.

Yin and I walked twice daily; in the morning after breakfast and at night, after dinner. Yin was so well trained sometimes I neglected to use the leash. It was one such night that a man came up to me with a knife.

“Give me your money.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Give me your jewelry then.”

I fumbled with the clasp of my necklace. The man stepped forward and wrenched it from my neck. I cried out in pain. He turned to leave. My big dog, Yin, leapt from the side, snarling, knocking the man down. Using my cellphone, I dialed 911 as I took the knife away from the panicked man. That night, cuddled in bed with Yin, I understood why my father had gotten me a puppy that would become such a big dog.

 A few years later I had a massive stroke. I had been out by myself shopping. When I came to in the hospital, all I cared about was “Yin.” They had no idea what I meant by my dog’s name. Then my father arrived, with Yin wearing his service dog vest from when he had graduated as a half-grown pup. After a long hassle, it was proven that Yin was a certified service dog who had just outgrown his vest. Yin was allowed to stay with me in the hospital. He even slept on the gurney with me.

After my first stroke Yin was allowed everywhere with me. He got a new, properly fitted, vest with a little pack for his paperwork. I am slower now while Yin is still a big dog in his prime. Sometimes I would sit on a park bench and let Yin off the leash to run and play. One day he came back limping, his vest torn, the pack missing. I took him to the vet and called the police. The police wrote it off as a robbery with a knife. The vet was hesitant and told me to watch Yin for any changes.

The changes may have been there but I didn’t see them. Not until the last night we were lying in bed together. Yin was staring at me instead of cuddling like usual. Then he lunged. My father taught me what to do if ever attacked by a dog. Yin was just too close. He had gone for my throat. I got my right hand in his mouth but his breath still touched my neck. I pushed. Yin choked. I pushed harder as tears blurred my vision. Yin pulled his head to my right. I pushed further and there was a crunching sound. Yin fell limp.

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My author bio is as follows:

Shana Horn has two bullmastiff labrador mixes, eleven years old now, who inspired this story. One is blond and male while the female has the traditional black fur. The technique in the first paragraph was indeed taught to her by her late father. More of Mrs. Horns short stories can be read on her blog at http://slwhshorts.blogspot.com/.

Tidepool Dragon vs The Mermaid

For two days I looked around my black seaweed forest and gathered up the one hundred twelve crossbow bolts that the gillmen had missed me with. Only fifty were broken. Sixty-two were still perfectly usable. Of the fifty, I could most likely fix them all too. I did not push myself, just strolled around the fronds. When I found broken ones I piled them on top of the pearls that I had removed from the gillmens belt pouches. I would need to make more bolt quivers from the black seaweed. Or better yet remake the belt pouches into them. A project for tomorrow, now that I have found all the bolts.

I was just about to relax for the night when a cone of boiling water surrounded me from behind. It burned but still I turned to see the source. A tiny dragon with scales like the shallows on a sunny day attached itself to the front neckline of my eel skin studded armor by its front claws. “Thief.” It hissed in my face. If I had not turned it would have been secure upon my back.

 “I have stolen nothing from a dragon” I said removing the bayonet off the chain belt. “But I will defend myself,” I added stabbing up into the dragon.

“Liar.” The dragon states biting the tip of my nose. “The gillman told me how you killed his guards and stole my tithe of forty saltwater pearls.”

“I stole nothing from you.” I declared, stabbing the tiny dragon again. It opened its mouth wide and a cone of the boiling hot ocean water hit me directly in the face. I couldn’t see. All I could feel was the pain from it. I fumbled with my left hand at the chain belt and pulled off my potion of healing that I had gotten off a skum I had killed a while back. I uncorked it and drank it quickly. The dragon took a swipe at it but missed. The pain receded. It was still there. I wasn’t even healed from the last fight with the gillmen from just two days ago and now this but I would survive. I jerked my head to the right as the dragon tried to bite me again then stabbed it. I jerked my head straight back the next time, not sure which direction the dragon was going with its neck swaying all over. Then I simply stabbed it again.

Then it happened again. The tiny dragon used its breath weapon to superheat the water and spray it in my face again. I pushed up at its head and neck with my empty left hand when I saw it open its mouth wide and most of the steam missed me this time. Then I stabbed it with the bayonet in my right.

The dragon fell limp. I pulled the sea-knife and went to slice its tiny neck. So tiny was the neck of the dragon and so sharp the blade that I took the dragons head clean off. I noticed an inky blackness like black seaweed between the wings on the back on the tiny dragon. I pulled its claws carefully out of my armor. After all, the armor was new still and it had cost me a lot. I let the body fall backward. Making an X across the chest of the tiny dragon was an oversized thing made of black seaweed. I saw ties in its center and carefully undid them. I unwound the black seaweed revealing a bandolier able to hold eight potion bottles. Right now it held five. The way it was wrapped around the tiny body as well as the extra bulk of the potions had made it difficult to identify.

I pulled the potions out and spread them out evenly around me in a circle. Then I tied the bandolier across my chest and over my left shoulder.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I opened my mental senses. Once per day I could use these senses to detect magic. Anything more than that and I would end up with a blinding headache. If I used the sense for any longer than a minute I ended up with the same result. All of the potions has magical auras, this was a given. All of their magical auras were fain, a given again. Four had auras of the same color but a fifth was different.

I started with the different one. It had the same aura as my wand of healing. The same aura as the potion of healing that I had drunk during the battle with the dragon. It was another healing potion. I would drink it once I had identified the other four.

The other four were the same. A yellow color meaning a form of divination. Yet the potion within was black as ink but with a slight, metallic shimmer. I poured one of the potions in my hand and then rubbed it onto the dead dragon. Nothing happened.

I put the three remaining potions into the bandolier. I could have someone else identify them for me and tell me how to use them at a later date. I spent the rest of the night skinning and butchering the tiny dragon.

Her First Battle

“Little mermaid,” the gillman at the head of the caravan sneered, “just because you have somehow obtained one of our knives does not make you a threat to us.”

“Most of my weapons I obtained from a sahuagin that I killed semi-recently. This knife,” I said idly flipping it between my fingers, “is my second oldest possession.  A trophy from my first kill.  A gillman entered my forest and without my permission began harvesting my black seaweed.  I took one of the fronds he has sliced and slipped it over his head. I had no weapons yet but the seaweed worked very well to strangle the life out of him.  The gillman stabbed back at me with his sea-knife but I swished my tail and tightened my grip.  He stabbed back wildly again and I simply continued to hold on.  He sliced over his head at me and I laughed, accidentally loosening my grip.  I tightened my hold severely as he tried to stab me again.  His knees buckled but I could still feel his pulse under my knuckles.  His pulse stopped before I counted to twenty.”

“Was there anything else he had in his possession?”

I smiled and hedged, “A pouch of herbs, spices, gemstones, chalk, and other odds and ends.  A trident like most of your kind have.  Four sunrods, since your kind cannot see in the dark.  A waterskin.  A bag for my black seaweed.”  I paused as if to think.  The last two items would easily identify the gillman I had killed years ago to anyone who knew him.  “Plus there was a satchel with a turtle in it and a signet ring I sold months ago.”

The gillman stood and pointing at me screamed, “You killed my son.”  His twenty warriors swarmed at me.  I retreated into my forest of black seaweed, where I could pick them off one at a time.

Gnome Fey Hunter

“You’re the fairy hunter?” A gruff voice demanded from behind me. I was sitting at the bar at a tavern enjoying a warm meal I didn’t have to catch and cook for myself.

“I am.” I confirmed, then ate another forkful of stew. I got a potato in this bite.

“How much?”

“How much for what? Be specific.” I suggested taking another bite.

“How much will you charge to get rid of the evil tiny fey that is keeping us from thinning a certain area of the forest nearby?” I turned to look up at the half-orc. “Nevermind.” He grunted and turned away. A half-elf and human followed him.

“Just because I am a gnome does not mean I am not the fairy hunter you seek.”

“Gnomes are of the fey. Why would they hunt the fey?” The half-elf scoffed.

“Elves are of nature. Why would a half-elf take up logging?” I mimicked his tone. The human and half-orc laughed. Without losing the sarcasm I continued. “I bring you the body, you pay me in its weight in platinum pieces. I am sure there is a merchant with a scale we can use in this lovely hamlet.”

“Deal.” The half-orc said with a tusked grin. I grinned back and shook his hand. “You don’t get any coin until you bring us the body.” He said squeezing my hand.

“I take it you have paid to get rid of this fey already?” Shaking my hand once the half-orc released it as if he had hurt me.

“Yes an Erastilian paladin who said it was evil but yet as a fey it was a part of nature and thus he would not kill it. He trapped it and relocated it and then a week later, before we could finish our work, it was back.”

“I have no problem killing the fey for the coins. I just need to know where it is.”

“We will show you.” The human said in a surprisingly high voice.

“Tomorrow.” I agreed with a yawn, trying to pop my ears. “It is not as if you log at night.”

“We will be here at sunrise.” The half-orc said and the trio left the tavern. I returned to my stew.

The next morning I met the trio as I descended the stairs from the second floor. I had dressed to impress with my chain shirt and armored kilt. I had my bastard sword and my short bow for visible weaponry. Two quivers of twenty arrows, two bandoliers crossed my chest each holding eight flasks, and each wrist had a sheath of five more arrows. My belt had two waterskins, two pouches, four daggers, and a handax.

“Are you ready to go?” the half-orc asked.

“I am.” I had woken up early to eat while watching the sunrise.

“Good.” He turned and the three trooped out.

“Do all three of you really need to show me the way?”

“We go together.” The half-elf stated smugly.

I didn’t ask anything else, in case it was the humans turn to answer. We walked in silence into the woods. We walked for a long time, at least an hour, before they stopped. “See that mess of underbrush by those pines ahead of us?” the half-elf whispered to me.

There were seven pine trees, spaced a few feet apart, their lower branches intertwining, and a mess of underbrush surrounding them. They were directly in our path and hard to miss. “Yes.” I whispered back.

“We have been trying to clear the underbrush and lower branches but it keeps attacking us.”

“Fine.” I stood and walked forward, taking the handax from my belt. I began chopping at the undergrowth.

After the forth swing, a spear bounced off the right back of my chain shirt. I turned and looked at the tiny fey. It looked like a bundle of sticks bound by vines and given life. I dropped the handax, it had just been a ruse to get its attention. I drew my bastard blackblade and showed the fey its cold iron blade. “I was hired by the men who are trying to preserve these trees to kill you if you continue to interfere.” I said to the twigjack in sylvan.

“Mine.” It screeched, sending a barrage of splinters at me. I rolled forward, avoiding most of the damage, and sliced up the left leg of the fey and produced flame down the cold iron dealing even more damage. The tiny fey howled as it caught fire.  

“I WILL KILL YOU.” It screamed, sending another barrage of splinters at me. I was too close to dodge. It would be a long process later to remove the tiny shafts of wood. It was a simple process now, to remove the tiny head from the tiny body of the fey. The two pieces fell to the forest floor. I picked them up and shook the torso of the fey. Two tiny wands fell out into my hand. Typical fey.

“We will not be paying you.” The half-orc said brandishing a large ax.

“Let me get my gear from the tavern and I will be underway then.” I responded, absentmindedly turning the wands over in my hands.

“You are not mad?” The human squelched from behind me.

“I did not expect you to have enough platinum to meet my price.” I said walking back towards the hamlet between the half-orc and the half-elf without lifting my bastard sword at either of them. “I expected the double cross. I just wanted to kill the fey. I will do it for free. I often do. I just asked for the weight of the fey in platinum because you all were annoying me.”

“So now what?” The half-elf asked.

“I go get my stuff and move on. You do what you are supposed to with that.” I said tossing the body of the fey over my shoulder towards the brambles and pine trees.

Battle of the Patrols - In Game Terms

Battle of the Patrols – in game terms

Excel Spreadsheet “Book”: Word Count 739!
A. ID
B. Initiative
C. Hit Points at start of round 1
D. Actions during round 1
E. Hit Points at start of round 2
F. Round 2 actions
G. Hit points at the start of round 3
H. Round 3 actions
I. Hit points at the start of round 4
J. Round 4 actions
K. Hit points at the start of round 5
L. Round 5 actions
M. Hit Points at the start of round 6
N. Round 6 actions
O. Hit Points at the start of round 7
P. Round 7 actions
Q. Hit Points at the start of round 8

From my opinion post “The comparison of patrols is most interesting to me. Eleven to twenty plus a lieutenant for a patrol of sahuagin compared to three to ten plus two lieutenants of 3rd level and a leader of 3rd–6th level totaling six to thirteen for merfolk. So for the sahuagin lets roll 1d10+10 and for the merfolk 1d8+2 and let the patrols battle it out…”
I am instead going to do full patrols. So twenty level one and one level three sahuagin versus ten level one, two level three, and a sixth level merfolk patrol. The level ones will all be warriors. The third level lieutenants will each be fighters. The leader of the merfolk will be a waves oracle, because it was either that or a cleric or warpriest or ranger. Sahuagin and merfolk both fight with tridents and heavy underwater crossbows with ten bolts according to their bestiary entries. Starting hit points for each warrior is ten, fighters get thirty, and the oracle has only forty-eight, max of their hit dice. Also, merfolk Armor class of 13 and sahuagin armor class of 16, according to the bestiary. I have made a table for each participant of the battle and their initiatives and to track the hit points at the beginning of each round, until that number becomes zero or less.
During round 1 they will be using their heavy underwater crossbows and aiming at random warriors. Actions per round will be 1d20 for merfolk or 1d10 for sahuagin for who they hit, 1d20 to hit, and 1d10 for damage if not a miss. The Merfolk leader will use ice armor to make herself the target of the sahuagin arrows.
During round 2, the sahuagin lieutenant, during his turn, will order them to “Shoot the spellcaster in the Ice Armor.” He tries to show by example but it bounces off her ice armor. The Oracle meanwhile will hold her Ray of Searing Light until the lieutenant gives his order, then she will hit him with it, for 19 damage.
Round 3, the merfolk lieutenants and oracle will shoot at the sahuagin lieutenant, meanwhile all the sahuagin will shoot at the merfolk oracle, and all the merfolk warriors will shoot at random sahuagin warriors. The oracle creates a trident spiritual weapon to attack the sahuagin leader. Spiritual trident misses during attack of opportunity due to the lieutenants ranged attack.
Round 4. The merfolk oracle will cast cure moderate wounds on herself, curing 21 points of damage and bringing her hit points up to 36 before the sahuagin begin to attack her. Spiritual trident misses and misses again during ranged attack. The merfolk lieutenants one missed but one hit with their arrows.
Round 5. The merfolk oracle will again cast cure moderate wounds on herself, Curing 13 points of damage and bringing her HP up to 39. Spiritual trident misses but hits during ranged attack for 6 damage. The merfolk lieutenants miss with their arrows though.
Round 6. Oracle uses a third dose of Cure Moderate on herself, healing fifteen damage and bringing her hit points to 40. The spiritual trident misses both times, as do the merfolk lieutenants.
Round 7. Not needing a cure spell the oracle will again cast Ray of Searing Light at the sahuagin lieutenant again dealing 14 damage. The merfolk lieutenants deal three and ten damage with their arrows too. Killing the sahuagin lieutenant.
Round 8. Casts Cure Moderate Wounds due to taking so much damage, regains 20 hit points for 34. The oracle states to the eight remaining sahuagin, “Your boss is dead. Two-thirds of you number are dead or dying. I give you this one chance to leave here with your lives.”

Now here is the thing. I am thinking of ending it there because after eight rounds of everyone just shooting each other with arrows it becomes a little tedious, no matter what point of view I use. There are only two bolts left if both sides started with full quivers anyways so I might continue on. That is a decision for another day. Right now there are eight sahuagin left, nine with the one playing dead, and eight merfolk.
Also so far I have three points of view to write from, the sahuagin playing dead, the sahuagin lieutenant who dies in Round 8 which was my original idea and why I stopped here, and the merfolk oracle. I can make a part 2 of Battle of the Patrols – in game terms if they decide not to flee for their lives.

Opinion on Merfolk of Golarion plus

Merfolk of Golarion. That is a book I would love to read. I mean they have elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, humans, and kobolds. Did they not learn with Bastards of Golarion that sometimes having too many races in one player companion makes for a not so good book. Not saying Bastards is a bad book, it is still one of my favorites, but they could have done more with it. With the next adventure path, Ruins of Azlant, has a lot of aquatic adventures, hopefully. I really hope that it can be run while playing aquatic races but it does not seem that way in the descriptions. In June, Paizo is putting out the Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Aquatic Adventures. In July, Paizo is putting out the Pathfinder Player Companion: Blood of the Sea. Now the campaign settings are usually bigger books and they can fit a lot in them so I am looking forward to see what they put in that for the merfolk settlements. This sounds like too much to me considering the size of those books “ Pathfinder Player Companion: Blood of the Sea explores the mystical paths and strange abilities of seaborn adventurers—and those who hunt them. Discover the secrets of aquatic elves, gillmen, merfolk, tritons and more. New magic items aid aquatic characters in adventuring on land and take land-dwelling characters into the mysterious deep, while new spells grant mastery over the waters. A host of other new archetypes, feats, and more allow characters of all types to infuse themselves with the power of the sea. “ I mean what a two page spread each for aquatic elves, gillmen, merfolk, tritons, and others, plus a two page spread for new magic items and/or spells. A two page spread for “those who hunt them” which are most likely the non-aquatic races. That right there is the entire book. The new archetypes and feats will have to be woven into those main categories.  I want a book just on merfolk!

With the Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Aquatic Adventures there are things I really hope they include. According to one developer “ it's just a 64-pager. Half of the book is a gazetteer of Golarion's oceans and seas, and the other half gets into the rules for underwater combat and provides some fun new options.”  Since there will be no fire underwater, and humans are a fire based species as much as an air based one, the differences between how things work needs to be addressed. How are weapons forged? How are potions and alchemical items in flasks bottled without sea water contaminating the mixtures? How does a wizard, magus, or alchemist keep a spellbook or formula book, the ink would run, the paper would get wet and break down?

Off Topic idea, in the discussion for the Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Aquatic Adventures they discuss the lakes, especially Lake Encarthan. Lake Encarthan is another thing that could easily have a book all on its own. I mean it is a huge, freshwater body of water, lake means freshwater sea means saltwater, with seven nations along its banks, Druma, Kyonin, Lastwall, Molthune, Nirmathas, Razmiran, and Ustalav. People of the North combined three different kingdoms, Lands of the Linnorm Kings, Realm of the Mammoth Lords, and Irrisen. Granted some of the nations around Lake Encarthan have been discussed before, Kyonin was discussed in Elves of Golarion as that is their homeland and Bastards of Golarion for half-elves, but that in no way means a medium-sized book focused on Lake Encarthan  would not be an interesting idea. Perhaps a full adventure path that goes to each of the countries, somehow fitting two into one book.  Wait, now I am giving away my RPG Superstar ideas.

Back to the merfolk. Merfolk are very xenophobic but yet are on friendly terms with aboleth. They keep animal companions too and thus by extension familiars. In fact two of the three favored classes for merfolk in the advanced race guide are druid and rangers, both of which have animal companions. It makes sense for them to have familiars too as opposed to spellbooks, thinking along the lines of the unlettered arcanist. I just do not see how the merfolk can be friendly with aboleth. Aboleth are aberrations, evil alright lawful evil, and have tried to destroy the world of Golarion once already, see Earthfall. The only thing I can think of is the fact that Aboleth have created some aquatic races, including skum and ceratioidi, which means they may have made merfolk too or at least some Aboleth cults are stating that. Aboleth in their own language translates to “Owner”, “Master”, or even “God” so it is easy to see how the Aboleth see themselves. Yet merfolk will willingly serve Aboleth. I cannot wrap my head around it and I hope that in one of the upcoming nine books, seven for the adventure path plus the other two mentioned previously in this post, somehow this relationship is explained.

Onto happy thoughts, bright colors. The reason I love the gnomes with Pathfinder is they are offshoots of the fey and they have bright colored hair, like troll dolls, and their skin can have colored hues as well. Same with the merfolk, their hair and scales can come in a wide variety of colors and hues, to summarize the Advanced Race Guide. Their upper body, torso, head, and arms, is humanoid, generally described as human or elven in build, while their lower body is that of a large, long fish. I love choosing bright colors for character creation. I use the manga hair color meanings for hair, or I roll 1d10 if I am in a random mood, and I use an aura color chart, randomly rolling 2d20, for eyes and gnome skin tone. I can do the same thing with the merfolk but I like to roll 1d4 first because I like multicolored tails. Snakes do not have one color for their scales nor do most fish. Sometimes the colors are very similar. Sometimes they are not. Yes, I realize that I can get a one on a 1d4 and thus have  single colored tail too. I just like the options of having bright colors in the fantasy setting. I also know that “Despite the potential variety in the race's appearance, merfolk in shared habitats tend to boast similar pigmentation” unlike gnomes. The most I have done so far for a grouping of merfolk has been a caravan so this has yet to really become an issue.

Speaking now on the caravan, it is interesting how the bestiary entry for merfolk has a maximum of 71 with:
solitary,
company (2–4),
patrol (3–10 plus 2 lieutenants of 3rd level and 1 leader of 3rd–6th level),
or shoal (11–60 plus 1 sergeant of 3rd level per 20 adults, 5 lieutenants of 5th level, 3 captains of 7th level, and 8–12 dolphins)
Meanwhile the sahuagin, with which the merfolk share Outsea which is in itself a great settlement, have bands and tribes of higher numbers, but a patrol of a maximum twenty-one. Eleven to twenty plus a lieutenant for a patrol of sahuagin.
band (20–80 plus 100% noncombatants, 1 lieutenant of 3rd level and 1 chieftain of 4th level per 20 adults, and 1–2 sharks), or
tribe (70–160 plus 100% noncombatants, 1 lieutenant of 3rd level per 20 adults, 1 chieftain of 4th level per 40 adults, 9 guards of 4th level, 1–4 under-priestesses of 3rd–6th level, 1 priestess of 7th level, 1 baron of 6th–8th level, and 5–8 sharks)
Making me wonder why the low numbers for merfolk? Merfolk do have settlements beyond Outsea, Stormshoal, Jehyseel, and Chosovosei at least. Chosovosei is supposed to be a small city, in game terms that means a population of five to ten thousand.

The comparison of patrols is most interesting to me. Eleven to twenty plus a lieutenant for a patrol of sahuagin compared to three to ten plus two lieutenants of 3rd level and a leader of 3rd–6th level totaling six to thirteen for merfolk. So for the sahuagin lets roll 1d10+10 and for the merfolk 1d8+2 and let the patrols battle it out…

Ioun Dwarf and the brothers

The Drunken Magic Stone is not only my home but also my livelihood. I had started out as a brewers apprentice and tavern wench. When I was drawn into a life of adventure by the patroness and Wyrdy, my ioun wyrd it had been my dream to someday have my own tavern. Now I have retired from the life of adventure.
Walking up to the three story stone structure I felt a surge of pride. I had built it myself. A tavern, inn, and the third floor my private sanctum. I have a massive garden on the roof, to keep it safe from pillagers and pests. Then the third floor I have a bedroom, bath, Reliquary, and my workshops, my alchemy lab, my brewery area, and our gemcutting and stoneworking workshop. The second floor is simply lodgings and a lavatory. On the first floor is the typical tavern common room and bar, with my small office along the north-west corner and a storefront for my stones along the northern wall. The office leads down to the kitchen and storage areas I dug out below the Drunken Magic Stone. Three storage areas and two vaults.
I had left Wyrdy in charge while I had gone to fetch the water. We had nobody staying on the second floor right now. The chance of adventurers stopping in had not been too high, especially since I would have only been gone less than half an hour. Even with the battle with the giant I had not been gone any longer than planned. Yet there were four houses tied up to the hitching posts outside the front of the Drunken Magic Stone. I sent a feeling of concern to Wyrdy. It sent back a feeling of calm and business.
I walked in through the door like I owned the place, which I did. “How may I help you?” I offered taking quick stock of the room. There were three men in the room. Two human men sitting at the bar. An elf was standing by my storefront.  The fourth horse had not been saddled as a pack horse so the fourth rider must be in the lavatory.
“Your familiar, with the help of unseen servants, has been taking rather good care of us.” The elf said.
“Excellent care.” The blond man at the bar agreed taking a swig of his mug. He put the empty mug on the bar and an unseen servant picked it up and refilled it from the barrel. Then the unseen servant set the refilled mug back on the bar in front of the man.
“Wyrdy, you have been keeping a tab correct?” I said aloud to my ioun wyrd familiar. It bobbed up and down in the air as if a humanoid nodding.
The door to the lavatory opened and a half-elf came out. “I told you the drinks would not be free brothers.” He said laughing.
“But elven said not to worry about it.” The redhead said taking a gulp from his mug.
“You are a purveyor of stones?” The elf asked me.
“I am.” I confirmed as an couple of unseen servants lifted the waterskins and the large greatclub from my hands and took them behind the bar.
“And a spellcaster as well?”
“I am.”
“We recently had an altercation with a necromancer and from said altercation acquired a few magic items and a lot of onyx stones.” The elf said, pulling a very full belt pouch off his belt.
“You would like me to apprise the stones and tell you what the magic items are?”
The elf grimaced. ‘If possible I would like to sell you the onyxes since I really do not want stones touched by necromancy. Possibly the magic items too once you determine their properties.”
“I will take the stones. I will appraise them. Then we can discuss trading their apprised value for my services, my alcohol, and possibly rooms if you would like them. I do have some coin too don’t fret.” I said walking up to him and the counter of the storefront.
“What about the magic items?”
“One thing at a time. First I have to identify them. Then appraise them if you want.  Then we can discuss trading for them if you decide you do not want them. I do not have a lot of coin, perhaps enough to buy one magic item.”
“Alright. Give up your bags brothers.” The elf said turning to the other three sitting at the bar. They reached to their belts and pulled off a bulging pouch.
The half-elf also took off a tube for scrolls and taking the humans pouches walked them over and put them on the counter next to the elf. “You had better be sure about this.” He muttered to the elf before turning his back on me and going back to the bar.
“We can start with the stones as planned.” I said confidently.
“Why not start with the magic items?” The half-elf said scornfully.
I looked at the elf and said “Whichever you all prefer.”
“The magic items.” The elf agreed with his brother.
“I charge 100 gold pieces per identification. I will gladly take that out of the onyx gems with your agreement.”
“One hundred gold.” The half-elf said putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“A typical fee.” The elf agreed smiling. He pulled two wands out of the quiver on his back. “Let’s start with these. Then the four scrolls. Then there is also a potion and a ring.”
The half-elf added, “and a glass bottle with a cork that I am not sure if it is even magic.”
“I keep telling you it is.” The elf snapped at him.
I pulled down a bottle of wine and plucked an owl feather from the basket hanging from the ceiling above the storefront bar. “Just put all magic items on the counter and then I can cast identify.”
The elf took the magic items, one from each belt pouch, as the half-elf demanded “If you are only casting one spell why do we have to pay you for each item?”
“Nine hundred gold pieces worth of identification of magic items is fine so long as she is willing to take those black stones in trade.” The elf hissed at his half-brother.
Without waiting I cast Identify. We could argue about money later. I began, as asked, with the wands. “This redwood wand is vampiric touch. This oak wand is mage armor, a typical spellcaster spell.” I said . The elf put the oak wand back in his quiver and pushed the redwood wand to the side. “I doubt I will have enough to buy the vampiric touch wand, in a settlement you can get ten thousand gold possibly.”
“Alright.” The elf said, returning that wand to his quiver too. Then he handed me the scrollcase.
It was made of hollowed out bone femur with a screw top of the ball joint. I unscrewed it and pulled out the four scrolls. All were obviously written in blood but on vellum as opposed to other, sinister materials. “This first on is an arcane scroll of Make Whole. This is arcane eye, a divination arcane spell.  This is phantasmal killer and the last is gentle repose.” I said looking at the scrolls and handing them back to the elf.
“The bottle is indeed magic.” I said smiling at the half-elf. “It is a bottle of air. The potion is another gentle repose. The ring is a ring of protection, first level.”
“I am keeping my bottle of air.” The half-elf said snatching it back.
“I will be keeping my ring.” The redhead said, acquiring another mug of my ale.
“I don’t see the point of the potion if it isn’t healing.” The other human said offhandedly.
“It has its purpose.” The elf said picking it up and handing it to the half-elf who nodded solemnly. I understood the look. They had lost siblings while adventuring before. Gentle repose would allow them to bring the body home intact. “We do not have any use for the scrolls. We have no arcane spellcaster.”
“Any of you can learn to cast arcane spells at a university.” I suggested looking at the half-elf.
“The humans are too far along in their lifetimes.” The elf said dismissively.
“I need to stay with them to keep the peace.” The half-elf said seeing my look.
The elf glanced at the half-elf then sighed. “Let’s move on to the onyxes.” He said, picking eight or nine stones out of each bulging belt pouch.
I picked them up as he set them on the counter and though a gem loop in my left eye priced them aloud. “Forty, forty, fifty-five, fifty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, sixty-five, sixty, fifty, forty-five, sixty, sixty, fifty-five, fifty-five, fifty, forty, fifty, fifty-five, forty-five, sixty, thirty-five, fifty, sixty, forty-five, thirty-five, sixty, forty-five, fifty, forty-five, forty-five, forty, forty, And forty-five totaling seventeen hundred gold pieces.”
“Time to discuss money.” The elf stated. “Nine hundred for the determination of the magic items.”
“Half a silver piece per mug totals 3 gold pieces for your tab so far.” I added.
“Agreed.” The elf said. “That means seven hundred ninety-seven still owed to acquire the remaining gemstones.”
“I gave you’re the prices I would be selling the gemstones for not what I was willing to pay to acquire them.” I corrected the elf.
The half-elf laughed as the elf scowled. “Meaning?”
“I buy gemstones at three-quarters their appraised value. Meaning I will take them in trade at twelve hundred seventy-five. Minus the nine hundred three means I owe you three hundred seventy-two gold pieces.” The scowl on the face of the elf deepened as the humans stood and turned toward us. “How about we split the difference and I throw in two potions of cure moderate wounds?”
The elf smiled. “Agreed.” He said holding out his hand. I shook it. Then I walked over to the bar and pulled out two potion vials with red-orange liquid. The elf walked over and accepted them.
While the elf had his back was turned the half-elf rolled up the scrolls and put them back into the femur scroll case. “Time to go then?” The half-elf asked hopefully.
“Yes, the day is young.” The elf agreed.
“Excellent brew.” The redhead said as the blond chugged the liquid remaining in his mug. They left without further comment. I walked back to and behind the storefront bar. I pulled out two baskets of onyxes. Those worth fifty gold pieces or more went into one basket, those less into the other.